The Grey. *-(A SciFi Thriller)-*

Part I: Red

There's a space between the deepest sleep and the embrace of death, and Red was there now. He had been here before, a couple of times, but this time felt different. The static nothingness, a ringing quiet - it was all very familiar. No sight, no sound, no senses - only a delicate, yet peaceful dread in this void. Red was afraid, but he wasn't sure why - nor how he got here.

He wanted to surrender, he ached for it - but something kept shoving him back into existence. Every time he felt himself lulling back into the slow steady steps into the desperate black quagmire, something would shake him to the brink of consciousness. Like the sudden falling feeling you get before falling asleep - an electric jolt through his system. Why can't they leave him alone? He just wants to sleep.

Sleep.
There is a sharp, striking pain across Red's face. Then another. And another.

"You Asshole!"

Another SMACK! and there is a sliver of blinding white across Red's vision.

"Wake. Up!"

Another slap, and Red's eyes are open. Everything is blurry, too bright, and too loud. Red tried to lift his arm, but it does nothing. His body is still asleep.

Suddenly, there is a face clouding his vision, blocking the bright lights, and he feels hair tickling his cheek.

"Cil... Shtop... Slappin... me..." Red manages to mumble through slurred breaths.

"Not."

SMACK!

"Until."

SMACK!

"YOU. WAKE. UP."

SMACK! SMACK! SMACK!

Red managed to crumble to his side off of his back and a ricochet of pins and needles shot down his side. Red groaned. Even the slightest move was torture. He started to move his toes but even that was too much. His body did not want to wake up.

It was then that Cil began to shake him, sending a cascade of needles throughout his entire body. Slowly, the pain started to dull, but only after Red threw up on Cil's nice clean floor.

Red had been staring at the hot tea, still warming his shaking hands. The splash of milk was still gently swirling, silent circles in the heavy air. He was on Cil's overstuffed couch now, well worn and full of tiny holes. One of her heavy blankets was now draped over his shoulders. It was a nice gesture, but he still couldn't get warm.

Cil was sitting in front of him, staring daggers, but he was not yet brave enough to look up. She had every right to be mad at him. She had saved him, picked him up from the abyss, more times than he would like to admit. His face still stung where she had slapped him, but the pain was a comfort. He deserved worse. Maybe he could convince her to shoot him in the leg, throw him off the building - anything but this sickly silence that made his stomach contort even further in knots.

"'I told ya so?'" he muttered, in a dry, crackling and unfamiliar voice.

"Hm?"

Red cleared his throat, then took a small sip of the tea.

"I said," he paused, letting out a little cough, "'I told ya so?'"

Cil crossed her arms and shook her head slowly.

"That's what you should be sayin' right now," said Red, taking another sip.

"Red."

"Hm?"

"I thought I had lost you this time. Really lost you," said Cil, finally looking away, "You're my... You're my..." she started, before her words trailed off.

"I know," Red muttered under his breath.

Cil suddenly stood, eyes now filled with a familiar fire.

"No. You. Don't," Cil spat, "You are my best friend. My only friend that I have left."

Cil then began to throw things at Red. Pens, bottles, whatever was in arms reach. But Red did not make any effort to dodge.

"I have lost so many people. People I have loved," Cil paused. She was crying now. "How could you be so selfish," she let out in a final shaky gasp before collapsing to the seat in front of Red, her head in her hands.

Red watched her, thick black braids silently shaking over her slim fingers. He deserved all of this and more. Cil may have always put on a brave front, but he knew her history. He knew what she had been through.

With effort, Red finally stood and sat next to Cil, sharing the blanket over both of their shoulders. There was nothing he could say that could make things better. So he sat there with her, for however long she needed.

It was several moments, maybe hours, before Cil finally sat up straight. It was so abrupt that Red nearly fell off his seat.

"Tell me what happened. Exactly what happened," she spoke.

And so Red told her, well at least as much as he could. He left out some particular details about the Sage trip, but that wasn't very important. However, he did want to let her know just how he felt about Sabrina. She was just a cog in this mess too. A mess much bigger than the both of them.

He emphasized, as much as he could, that Sabrina was not some monster - she was just another victim. Red made a mistake to Sage with her - it was his fault. He knew the potential consequences, but he was weak. A coward.

Cil sat and listened in silence the entire time, eyes intense at the wall in front of her.

Until finally, "Red?"

"Yes?"

"We have to tell N. We have to tell the Vermin. They don't know what they are dealing with."

Red's voice caught in his throat.

N.

Cil continued, "If you really trust her. If you really believe their stories - Sabrina and that Ami girl, then we need to let N know."

Red nodded. Images of the streets, sleeping bodies on the ground, filled his head.

N.

Not him.

Red shut his eyes tight. As much as he hated it, it made sense.

"How though..." Cil was pacing now, "I've gotten close before, but I've never seen him - not in person. But there has to be a way to get to him directly. I think I can talk to one of the rat masks I know, but it might take a while."

Cil shot a look back at Red, "Why are you smiling."

Red stood, shaking off the blanket, and stretching his arms over his head.

"Well... He's my twin brother."