Jailbreak

Chapter 8: Jay

A/N: Hi! Amelia819 here. Sorry for not uploading for so long... I had a lot of other things on my mind. Thanks for reading, and I hope you enjoy!

It was his choice. It was his choice.

I shake my head, and turn on my heel to return to the workshop. The clock is sitting where I left it on the customer table, so I scoop it up and take it to the worktable, where I place it next to a little girl's music box which I'd been fixing before the old man had come. Though I would like to start fixing the old man's clock straight away, as a professional repairer who takes money to fix people's precious belongings, I must know my priorities. The little girl's music box came first, so the little girl's music box shall I fix first. Yes, that's how we pros do it.

The music box is fixed in a matter of minutes. When I open the lid, two delicate-looking figures of pretty dancers begin twirling around to the gentle and beautiful song. I find myself smiling as I gaze at the two dancers. It's all so peaceful - a feeling I haven't felt in a long, long time. I feel like I can go on listening to this forever.

But I don't have forever - I have work to do.

I close the lid of the music box gently and push it to a side, and turn my attention to the broken clock. I lie it on it's glass surface to unscrew the hatch at the back. I feel a frown come over my face as I peer into its contents. Tiny bits and bobs have come loose, and the inside of the clock is in a state of chaos. It almost looks like a war has taken place within it. What could the old man have done to mess his precious clock so much?

"Hmm," I mutter, poking at a cogwheel which could have come from anywhere with a pair of tweezers. "This is a lot more complicated than I thought..." I dig out a magnifying glass from the chaotic mess of the work table, and set to work.

After 3 hours of unsuccessful tinkering, I finally give up and sink down onto my work chair with a groan. "Darn it." I rumple up my hair and drop my hand onto the table with a thump. "Can't even fix a simple clock, huh? Stupid brain." The chair creaks as I lean back into it with my eyes closed. The ticks of the clock on the wall echo around the quiet room, and I begin counting them subconsciously. On the 89th tick, a sudden thought pops into my head, and my eyes snap open. "Of course! The blueprint!"

Why hadn't I thought of it before? If I had, I wouldn't have had to waste so much precious time.

I am out of my chair in a trice, and bound over to a large shelf standing against one of the walls of the workshop.

That first time the old man brought in his clock, he also brought in its blueprint. I'd told him, like all the other customers, that the blueprint was unnecessary, that I relied on my senses to fix stuff. But the old man insisted me to hold onto it, just in case the clock needed any fixing again. So I'd accepted the piece of paper, mostly to make the man happy, and had filed it in with all the rest of the unneeded diagrams. And until this day, I'd completely forgotten about it.

I finger through the many files lining the wooden shelf. Skimming my eyes over the dates written on the back of each file, I finally find the one I'm looking for. I slide the file out of its place on the shelf, but as I do, a sheet of folded paper comes loose and falls to the floor. A sigh escapes my lips, and I lean down to pick it up, but then I notice something on the sheet that makes me stop in my tracks. The paper bares a medium-sized blotch of brown on its right-hand corner... a blotch that rings a bell in the back of my mind.

Could this... Could it actually be...?

I take in a deep breath, and slowly pick the sheet from the floor. Ever so gently, so not to rip the delicate paper, I unfold it... and gasp.

The blueprint. The blueprint! The blueprint Raven made back when we were so young, the blueprint to make the aeroplane. The big dream we began to build together, but never finished.

I'd always assumed after he'd smashed the plane, Raven had destroyed its blueprint too, or at least thrown it away. But no, here it was all this time, forgotten, waiting for someone to find it again.

But why did Raven leave it, here, in an old file almost forgotten in the wooden shelf? Why did he keep it, hide it, in this file, if he knew he was never going to return to build the plane ever again? It doesn't make any sense.

But thinking back on it, did Raven make much sense at all? I recall the old days. No. He didn't. Well, at least, sometimes, he didn't.

There were these times where Raven would come up with these ideas so absurd, so crazy, but so amazing. These ideas were complex beyond imagination, that even I had difficulties understanding them - and I was supposed to be his senior in the area of mechanics. It felt to me as if he was living in his own little world. The world of Raven, where the wonderful ideas spring to life. I somehow saw Raven as a person way out of my league.

Maybe this is one of the Raven ideas. The ones I could never put my mind around, no matter how hard I try.

I turn the paper over in my hands, almost subconsciously, and a small scribble on the back of the blueprint catches my eye. I don't remember there being any writing on the back.

The scribble isn't very long, only a couple of words. It looks as if its been written vigorously, like the writer wasn't in a very happy mood when he wrote it down, and the letters aren't very neat. And the writer could be no other than Raven himself - even though messy, the handwriting makes that clear.

IT'S YOUR CHOICE.

"...Hah?"

The sound leaves my mouth before I can stop it.It changes into a laugh of scorn, and I keep on laughing as I stare at the three words on the paper. But I find myself crying too. My nose stings, my eyes burn. My throat constricts painfully, and I'm wheezing for air.

IT'S YOUR CHOICE. It's my choice. It's my choice?

"...Really Raven?"

It's all I can say as I repeat the words over and over in my head.

So that's what he meant. Leaving the blueprint for me to find. Not throwing it away or burning it into oblivion, but leaving it here in the workshop for me to discover some day. He even kindly left me a small message, telling me to choose for myself. Oh, his nerve! Who does he think he is, after abandoning me to join the other side, the keepers' side? The people who killed his mother. Our mother.

But there is this soft side of me who can never despise him, despite everything he did to me. A side of myself I just can't understand, just like the way I can't understand Raven and his ways.

I scrunch my eyes shut, and the tears spill down my cheeks, But even I don't what they are for - are they tears of anger towards Raven? Despair towards this perplexing side of myself? Or just simple tears of nostalgia, wanting to return to those simple days where the four of us - Raven, Anna, Jack, and I - laughed as we worked hard for our next meal? I don't know. I don't think I'll ever know. But there is one thing, just one thing, that is clear to me.

"Fine, Raven." I wipe the tears of unknown meaning with the back of my hand, and allow myself a small, grim smile. "If that's what you want, if you want me to choose for myself, then choose for myself I shall." I stare at the blueprint, and Raven's message on the back. My choice... My choice. I know what I want. And I'm sure it was what Raven had wanted, even if he didn't know it himself back then.

I pull the goggles around my forehead- the pair matching with Raven's - over my head in what I hope looks like a confident and cool gesture. Even if there's no one to look at you, it's quite embarrassing to attempt at saying smart lines and making stylish moves.

I take in a deep breath, and raise my head to stare straight ahead.

"Let's reopen your eyes once more, Raven."

...After I finish fixing the old man's clock, though.