The Uprising

Recovery

Hi guys!

Thank you all so much for the lovely reviews! I know I saw this ever week and I know every writer says this, but they really do mean the world. It's so lovely to have the support and know that you all enjoy it, so thank you all so much!

Answers to reviews

- Marina's escape will be very soon I promise! There won't be much more waiting!

- And I'll put so many Navrina moments in when she escapes to make us all feel happier!

- I'll try and put more john/Maren in – it's definitely one of my priorities in this story!

Also as I was planning out this story I noticed that this story will go on for longer than the normal 50 chapters I was expecting for every book!

So please read on and enjoy!

John

Patient: Stanley Worthington, 17, 200Ib, 6ft4. Physical health: Bruises, cuts, nothing severe. Suffering from malnutrition and mineral deficiency. Treatment plan: IV, fluids and diet to restore balanced nutrients. Mental health: Inconclusive.

I frown at that last note on the page. Oh great.

I haven't seen Stanley since the ship. He was taken straight to the hospital, still sedated from the shot they gave him to calm down, and they've kept him in there ever since. I've heard he's woken up a few times, sometimes trying to rip out of his cuffs, but he hasn't succeeded. They took his legacies away whilst he adjusts to life down here. Only today, a week after the escape, am I allowed to see him. Apparently he's been deemed safe enough to visit now.

I hover outside Stanley's hospital room, pretending to want to know how he is when really I don't want to enter. I don't want to see what's become of my best friend who's been destroyed by the mogs one too many times. Yet I have to go in there, show that I'm here for him. It's what he did for me after Sarah was killed. And now our roles have been reversed.

"How is he?" I ask Sandor, watching as he grabs his stuff. He's been with Stanley for an hour already.

"Not good," Sandor shrugs, his face drawn. He hasn't shaved in days and there's a hollow look to his face that I don't recognise. "He...he's coping differently than I thought he would. Grieving, I can deal with. But not this. Not this anger," he frowns.

"Well, Sophia and he were close," I admit. "Closer than I remember them being. Of course her death is going to affect him," I shrug.

"I tried to take his mind off things," Sandor sighs. "I've explained everything to him. The Elders, how Sophia knew about all that, the chimaera, I even told him about Adam...I thought it might help him, but it's not done anything," he frowns.

I raise an eyebrow, confused. "He doesn't care about fighting anymore?" I ask. Sandor shakes his head, looking exhausted.

"That's not the problem," he sighs. "He cares too much. It doesn't matter whether he's an Elder or not, whether Sophia knew or not. All he wants to do is fight," I nod, pretending to understand, but I don't really. I guess it's just something I'm going to have to understand for myself.

"Thanks...I guess," I shrug. Sandor smiles ruefully and pats my shoulder, almost amused. Almost.

"You're a good friend to him John," he says. "If anyone can talk him out of this, it's you," he turns away and I stare after him, feeling pressured. I sigh, turning towards the door and push it open, entering the room.

Stanley lies in bed, staring at the ceiling. His hair is still long, but he's clean now, his skin a lighter colour than before now that the dirt has all gone. He's still as bulky as ever; apparently prison hasn't made him lose any weight. I can see the thick muscle under his skin and I wonder just how many press-ups and sit-ups he's been doing in his cell.