Black Wings

Thirty-Eight

"You find me interesting enough to just keep staring at me, huh?"

Hawks' voice, both curious and sarcastic, rang like honey in the tiny hospital room. The surroundings were never changing; the bleak light of fall during mid-day lit the space with a semi-gloomy glow that cast long shadows on everything in the room. A nightstand had been pulled over by the high-risen hospital bed of bolts and poles; the contents would've looked exceptionally gruesome to the passerby.

He was in the room with only one other person; the permanent inhabitant of the room whose wings were darker than the night sky. These wings, which the inhabitant was named for, were still neatly folded on top of the mound of pillows that she was currently leaning back on.

The girl in the bed stared at him, her back arching and her eyes narrowing as she picked up his tone. Her hair was down today, and it grew in shoulder-length H/C curls from the braid it had been in. She crinkled her nose as she sniffled the tiniest bit of mucus, and Hawks giggled.

"You remind me of my 'Fan Club'. A bunch of obsessive teenagers made it a few years back. They'd basically stalk me and post all the pictures online. It was flattering of course, but it was a little creepy to have eyes on me everywhere I went."

"Yeah, right. I'm sure you were very intimidated." A voice came from the door, where a woman in nurse's garbs was leaning in the doorframe, a smirk on her pale face.

"I was! Tell her, Little Bird!" Hawks joked, but all the girl in the bed did was stare at him curiously. He had looked at her with bright and mischievous eyes when he asked for her "back up," only to be met by the reflection of his own emotions in her blank ones. He chuckled for a minute, the absolutely devastating realization of her condition slamming into him as it had done many times before.

Since his talk with Rumi on that night, he had changed. Not surprisingly, the alcohol and calming atmosphere had helped him tremendously, even more so that he had been able to get everything out and explain it to someone. Especially since the one he had disclosed everything to trusted, believed, and defended him.

Yes, the weeks of social isolation had helped him to take on a new mindset, had helped him realize that being away from the Commission may have been a blessing in disguise. But just because a new mindset is formed doesn't mean that it's always easy to accept.

To have heard from someone who supported him had meant the world. To be vulnerable had meant the world. And to be free had felt utterly amazing.

That was probably why his drunken mind had wandered to the hospital that night. That carefree feeling was like a high his body had no experience with. It had no idea what had happened; it only wanted him to return to that feeling of depression and pressure that it had been under for so long. It is difficult for people to change, even more so their psyches, and being that Hawks' entire life had revolved around putting other's needs above his own, his mind naturally went to the place where he could feel that burden.

But going to see the girl in the hospital hadn't satisfied his inner glutton for punishment.

She had been curious about him. She hadn't pushed him away. The way she had looked at him spoke of pure, unfiltered innocence and a desire to understand. If she had known how to feel, to show proper emotion, how to speak, perhaps she would have said, "Nice to meet you!"

But just that unspoken understanding had been enough.

"Go on, keep talking to her." The woman, Lily, made her way delicately across the little room, moving to sit next to Hawks in another plastic foldable chair. He broke out of his thoughts, acknowledging her with his words.

"I... isn't that a little redundant?" Hawks' tone was incredibly genuine and curious, not degrading even a little.

"Not at all. She may not understand exactly what we're saying, but speaking to her in upbeat and positive tones all the time helps build trust. It's all about connotation. Parents do it with their toddlers all the time."