Blue

Dead in the Water

He had selected Joel again. Again, he had not a clue how he had ended up in front of him, just that he found himself with his hand atop Joel's shoulder. Maybe it was some form of preservation, that if he selected Joel, nobody else would, and that, given Adam stayed alive, so too would Joel. Adam had too many sirens to kill to die, so Joel would never step foot on the battlefield. Like Curtis, he would be an eternal trainee, training and laughing and helping the new trainees to adjust and feel comfortable.

Joel's face was twisted in confusion at being chosen again. Adam could see the question marks forming in every curve of Joel's skin as his expression soured, practically popping forth from his face like a cartoon. There was nothing Adam could say. He could hardly trust his voice to carry at all, much less in the din that was the mess hall. He could feel the vibrations of stomping feet and shouting voices as they echoed all through the metal room. Adam could imagine the fierceness of the headache that would accompany the noise bouncing around the room. It was strange how much the bitterness didn't fade away. He was tea steeped too long, he had been since the Culling, and who would want him now, lukewarm, aged, and bitter. Adam swallowed thickly as he led Joel to his room again. Joel was speaking to him as he started to place Adam's armor on... Adam couldn't catch a word. He could see some of the syllables, that was an 'o', he thought, or maybe an 'ah', and that was definitely an 'L'; he could tell by the way Joel's tongue pushed lightly through his teeth. Adam's intense stare at Joel's speech must have freaked him out. Joel ceased to speak very suddenly, his eyebrows pulling together slightly. Wordlessly, Joel tightened the straps on Adam's breastplate. He was more sure of himself this time, though he was sending Adam stranger glances this time. Adam would take it, though, the confusion over the resentment. Joel fit the armor solidly over Adam's body, entombing him with protection. Samurai were rising up in Adam's thoughts again. Those who existed to serve. Did he exist to serve now? Was that what he was doing? He was cutting down sirens, serving his Grandmother and Chase. They would live longer with less of a chance at being lured to their death by sirens. But Joel, was he serving him? It certainly didn't feel like it right now, as Joel wordlessly dressed him like a servant, after Adam refused to even listen to him. Adam couldn't listen, of course, but Joel didn't know that. Adam wasn't sure if the impending battle was making him feel this way or if it was benign trapped in this room with Joel. Joel, who would occupy this room and don this armor were Adam to fall. Joel, who had been handpicked by Adam twice for that fate. The first time had been selfish. The first time, he had strangely needed to protect Arnav, even at Joel's expense. But now... he didn't know. He hadn't needed to do this. Why had he done this to Joel again?

Makoto meant integrity. It was part of the samurai code. Those killers, those trained protectors and assassins had held themselves together with the samurai code. This was how you did not fall apart. You held yourself together with some kind of code, instead of letting the death and the loss and the destruction spread you so thin that pieces of you broke off and were lost. Joel began to leave the room. Adam's armor was all securely in place on his body. Adam's limbs felt all... itchy. Skittery. There was something he needed to dislodge, to shake away, but he didn't know what.

"Joel," he said. At least, he hoped he did. His throat went through the previously familiar action of pushing out air; his tongue and teeth shaped the air as it left his vocal chords. He could hear nothing. He thought that he had spoken, but had he? He panicked briefly before Joel turned slowly on his heel to face Adam. He had done it. He had not forgotten, somehow, how to speak. It was perhaps an idiotic worry in the first place.

"I'm sorry," Adam said, though he didn't think that would ever be enough. Maybe Joel wouldn't ever know, but Adam knew what he had done to this boy. He had marked him for death.

Joel's mouth was moving in response, his brows pulled together, his head cocked slightly to the side. There was an angry set to his mouth as he spoke, his confusion accompanied by that horrible resentment again. If the universe was kind, if miracles were real, Adam would have been able to hear just for this, for the chance to defend himself. But all he could do was shake his head at Joel.