Flight (#3)

"Thanks Jack." She said before scurrying off to write a letter, entailing the details of the situation, her suspicions, location, and angrily emphasized how she was kicked off of the ship. She had a instant flow of letters to her brother, and apologized for ending it in recent events. She stated that Riley had been injured, but is now okay, by a woman with metal legs. She wasn't sure she was actually the person he had lost, but she could be.

She then scurried back to the room where Jack was and handed him the paper while huffing from the running.

"Thanks." She breathed more heavily than she had for a while. "Aw man I'm really out of shape."

The world started to fade back to him, he could feel the burn of his wrists from shackles less prominent as they hung loosely at his sides. He was slumped against the wall, his feet bound together and chains keeping him from going far.

He slowly opened his eyes to the dark room with the singular small hole in the wall supplying him with light, and he stared blankly at a figure across the room from him. Blond hair, he saw, and his eyes slowly regained themselves after being closed for so long. He saw red, maybe too much red, at least half of the blondes face was red with newer burns and older ones. Harvey's mind ran slow as he processed the entire picture, and a sinking feeling began to form in his stomach. The man, or at least he thought it was a man, stared back at him with a cold ice stare he felt he had seen in a nightmare a long time ago.

His throat was dry and his breath raspy as his senses slowly came back to him, and he could feel every tiny cut on him lay against the stone all and dirt of the floor. They stung like hell, but in a way Harvey was glad, they meant he was still alive.

He focused more on the blonde man's face, and it was one he had wished he would never have to see again. His stomach twisted into fearful knots and he leaned more against the wall, pushing as far away from him as he could.

"C-corporal?" His voice shook from the dryness his own body felt and the total fear he had for this man.

"I-I don't understand." He crumpled up on himself further and shook violently, almost as if he was certain if he could make himself small enough, the corporal wouldn't see him. He felt the cold stone press against his bloodied clothes, almost soothing the red hot cuts left all over his back. He wasn't sure what he meant, about information, but a image of what seemed like a dream appeared in the back of his mind.

A flash of white hair, miscolored eyes, and a beautiful smile. He recognized the face, the place, but he couldn't remember a name. A touch that had made him happy, a kiss that had filled his heart. He remembered a sweet tune, a voice that had made him smile and blush, but the actual sound was lost to him.

Small tears had formed in the corners of his eyes, but he couldn't place why. He couldn't remember whether that boy was a dream or not, but he so longed for him. The sound of his own screams and his own flesh coming apart replaced any memory of a name.

He buried his head in his knees, hiding his face from the corporal with the mess of dirtied hair he had.

"I can't remember why i'm crying." He breathed heavily, shuddering as he exhaled. His knowledge had always been what had made him capable, and he didn't know what was going on. IT killed him.

Harvey stared at the corporal with eyes filled with an anger he had not felt before. He didn't know anything and he was in no way rightful to say such a thing to him. He couldn't remember why, but he felt very protective over those small flashes of memories. Words in some foreign language shot from his mouth like poison darts as he glared hateful at the corporal.

"Then who, myself?" He asked quietly. True, it was his own fault for ending up here, for never being good at anything except reading and ocasionally breaking down.