Chapter 9: The Fire

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I wake up again in a daze, Phil beside me. He's holding his arm in pain, brain scanner flashing red with it. I didn't know it had different colors. He helps me to my feet and starts feverishly searching for a way out, testing every nearby exit that isn't on fire or blocked by debris. A wall of fire stands between us and the way he came in, but only I can go through it. Being fire resistant I try the closer doors that Phil can't get to, but still nothing.

Theodore locked him in here to die.

[V, I'm sorry], Phil projects in a melancholic blue. [I'm sorry I couldn't get to you in time, I'm sorry we're in this mess, and I'm sorry I made you ever feel like you were less than you are.]

I try to stand between him and the worst of the heat, both to shield him and create an escape for myself if he tries anything. He's still holding the scalpel.

I keep one eye on the scalpel and hesitantly shout back, "And what am I Phil? What am I to you?"

He notices where my attention is, and I see him make a decision. He starts walking towards me, and I take a step back towards the exit and the wall of blistering heat.

[You are the greatest thing I have ever seen.]

Another step. I tense up, preparing to turn and run.

[You are my nemesis. You are my patient.]

The fire is hot, too hot for Phil, but he keeps coming. I ready myself to tackle him and escape with my life.

He stops, and throws the scalpel into the fire. I watch as it begins to glow and then melt, and I look back at him. His face is inches away from mine, and he ever-so-gently reaches a hand to my face.

[You are my everything. I give myself to you, Vagabond. I am yours.]

I can see his eyes, wet with emotion and clear with sincerity.

I see his arm also, blood flowing as violet as my own, realization dawning on me of how far he went just for me.

I feel his hand, cool and soothing on my cheek.

[I'll get you out of this, I promi--]

"Oh just shut up," and I pull him into a kiss.

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Oh wow. This is nice.

V pulls away slowly, allowing her hand to linger on my neck. She's melting into me a bit, I can feel warmth in my carotid artery as she exchanges her blood for mine.

"There," they say, finally pulling away, "now let's get out of here, together."

He takes my hand, leading me to the corridor I entered from, still blocked by a wall of flame.

[Are you sure this will work?] I ask, already feeling the searing heat reducing to a hot summer's breath.

He squeezes my hand. "Trust me," he says, and we step through.

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(Art by my talented friend MissMagpie. You can find her other works at "https://www.instagram.com/missmagpie14/")

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