The Epic Tale of Cregan

Chapter 4: To Hell and Back

"Are you sure about this, John?" Tyrell asked.

John simply smiled and nodded with his usual unwavering confidence. "Am I ever not?"

"I know, but... helping machines? Is it really worth risking our lives for?"

"You don't gotta trust or even like the SRL. Just trust me." John flashed that familiar smirk that showed him how sure he was of what he was saying. "You trust me, right?"

Tyrell nodded. "I do. I'd follow you to hell and back if it came to it."

"Good. 'Cause that's where we're goin'."

Cree blinks his eyes open and squints against the morning light that shines through the opaque windows of the rented room. The air is cold against his skin, reminding him that he currently isn't wearing clothes.

Then he remembers what happened last night. He remembers it all, especially when his headache won't let him forget about how strong his drink was.

He'd forgotten how nice it was to not sleep alone. Sure, he likes his solitude, but there's a comfort in knowing that someone will be there when you wake up and prove that your trust in them wasn't misplaced. How he hadn't thought to be with anyone since things went south with Data, he doesn't know. Maybe it's just that when he takes a liking to someone, he gets attached and wants no one else. But perhaps seeing Data move on and get with Peace has pushed him to move on as well.

Whatever the case, he feels content.

He takes a long deep breath in and exhales in relaxation. But he notices something seems off. He shouldn't be this cold in the presence of another person sharing the warmth.

He turns his gaze down from the ceiling to the bed, only for his brief contentment to instantly dissolve.

"Fuck..." he groans as he pushes to sit up.

He's alone. His trust was misplaced. It's not too surprising considering how they met just last night, but it still stings. But his headache is what hurts him most now. He pinches the bridge of his nose and rubs his eyes. His body aches and his stomach churns, both in hunger and nausea. How he has both, he doesn't know. All he knows is that he hates it.

He can already tell it's going to be a bad day, if there are any good ones anymore.

He sits up fully and shifts to place his feet on the stone floor, his back slouching as he sits on the bedside with his head down and his eyes shut tight against his pounding migraine.

He opens his eyes a little but keeps his head lowered as he reaches for his bag. "At least I had no money for her to steal..." he grumbles to himself and goes through his things. Once he sees that all his stuff is accounted for, he sets the bag back down and begins pulling his clothes back on.

Once he's gotten his dark brown cargo pants and black leather boots on, he starts searching for his discarded dark grey t-shirt. As he finds it, there's a soft but energetic knock on the door.

He sighs and slings his shirt over his shoulder as he makes his way over and grabs the handle. He pulls the door open to see Regan standing with his hands in his pockets and a smile on his face. His eyes glance down at Cree and the moment he sees that he isn't wearing a shirt, his face turns beet red and his eyes light up.

"T—Ty! I, um... You're awake!" He clears his throat and glances away once he starts feeling a little faint.

Cree winces and shuts his eyes. "Shit, keep it down... My head is fuckin' killing me..." he says in a tight voice.

Regan nods and glances back at him to watch him pull his shirt on, which is when he notices that Cree has two faded long symmetrical scars running beneath his sculpted chest. He questions them for a moment, when the realization hits him and his understanding shows in his eyes. He opts to say nothing, as he doesn't really want to start the day with a black eye or a broken leg. But he can't help the small knowing smile that melts into his features.