Deep-seated instincts took over in a flash.

Someone was coming at her. Large. Male... She was unable to spot any facial features. That didn't matter, though. She didn't care what he looked like. A flare of fire erupted within her chest. A burning, flickering rage that licked at her heart. She was still mourning. Still grieving for the child she had lost.. She would take it out on him, as she had done to many before him.

Lips pulled back in a feral snarl, teeth bared and yellowed in the glaring sun. Unkempt raven hair hung all around her. Serpents wriggled within, beady orange eyes locked on the approaching figure. They hungered.

The Greek stood still, a statue within the dust that billowed past. The swathes of mismatched fabric that she had bathed herself in did nothing to disguise her from the shoulders up. Dark, unknown stains littered the clothing. Each had it's own grim story. She watched the male approach, orange eyes half lidded and shaded by dusty lashes. The grime and dirt smeared over her cheeks did nothing to hide the wild look in her eyes. The fury.

She waited. She watched.

Hidden behind her, held flush against her side, she clutched a lengthy kitchen knife. Though the blade had not seen as much blood as one would surely think, it had scared off more than a few fools. This man, however, would receive no such mercy. The grief had won over her today. Flooded through every vein, muscle, and bone until she was filled to the brim with rage.

And underneath, buried deep within her core, the cold emptiness of devastation brewed away. It was people like him, this wild man charging head long toward her, that had stolen away the life of someone precious. Animals. Monsters. Beasts such as he, were the reason she could not sleep at night. They were vermin and she had taken it upon herself to exterminate as many as she could.

Someone needed to avenge his death.

When the man was in range, she lifted her arm and shot forward. Every muscle in her body had been tense and waiting like a snake coiled and ready for the strike. All she needed him to do was step into her range so she could raise her eyes-- no, she did not even need those-- and lash out at him with one un-gloved hand.

Life had just started to look up... Well, to be truthful, there wasn't a whole lot of looking involved... More, a dimness that allowed foggy glimpses of the world from one side on his face, but be had bounced back enough to be able to be humorous about it. Where his eyes were mostly ruined, his sixth sense seemed to be taking a step up...

The scarred and mutilated mutant had sworn he'd felt a real life heartbeat the other day, from across the room... It was crazy... Still, he could only really go out when day was in full swing right now; it was the only time he could see far enough to make his way out to forage... And that's what he was doing... foraging... for the group of people who had saved his life.

Indeed, his only purpose had been paying them back for their kindness; the healer had told him that he could fix the wounds, but not the scars, and his eyes would never be the same... He was fine with that, though. Having someone to protect, no matter how damaged he was, made him feel like his life had a purpose... He stopped in his tracks, and looked down to the ground... He'd been so broken, at first... not just physically... Mentally.

His one goal had been protecting the people he loved; one in particular, he'd failed more than any. She must have been so scared when the bomb went off... So alone. Part of him had wanted to give up; let himself fade away into nothingness like countless others had, but the rest reminded him that there were good people to protect... and maybe... maybe he would find her one day...

It put a broken smile on his face. One day he would find her, and everything would be alright.

His head snapped to the side at the sight of a color he hadn't seen in quite some time... Green... A green not covered in the grey dust of concrete... A gasp was drawn from him as the color moved... He took a step forward, squinting his one good eye... Another step.... He felt movement... It was a someone... Another step was taken; the pace quickly sped up into a rushed hobble, and as it did, the image befoer him got clearer and clearer....

It was a person... A person with green skin... a woman... it felt almost like a dream as he approached, and he tried to cough out the words he'd rehearsed a thousand times in his head... 'Andrea! it's okay! you're safe! I'm here! I was so worried you'd been hurt, but i'll defend you now! You have nothing to worry about! I love you!'

All he could get out were sobbing yelps as he neared her, his arms outstretched to embrace her. A hand pressed against his chest, right over his heart... the dream was real, he could feel her...

And then he felt pain... The dream became a nightmare. As the pain crept into his chest, and shock came with it, he spoke the words he'd failed to before.

"A-andrea... it's... it's okay..."


A numb right hand moved up to caress her face as blank eyes tried to look into blurry orange ones... Heh... that was silly... She wouldn't even feel that hand... what was he thinking? The already dark world went darker, and then black.

The flesh of her palm connected solidly with his chest. She was merciful still, as she had aimed for the heart. Specialized glands buried under the skin of her hands were already working to pump out deadly venom. The moment she touched him, even through his tattered clothes, it set to work. She could feel the fabric change under the pads of her fingers. From dirty and soft, to rough and scratchy. In seconds it was sinking into his flesh, carving a vicious path through skin. Nothing was spared.

But then, a voice. Something deep inside twisted, and she jerked herself away as a scarred hand touched her cheek gently. She hadn't even noticed it, so intent had she been on putting an end to his misery. The rage vanished, dissipating in an instant. Her skin tingled and buzzed like electricity were coursing through it and from somewhere within the darkness that consumed her mind, she heard that voice again. It spoke of love... Love for her. Images suddenly accosted her, things she hadn't bothered to think of in nearly a year.

No.. no! The ghosts of the past were long dead and buried. No one had survived.. no one had come looking for her. He was dead! ...And yet, as she fought to control suddenly rapid breathing and looked down at the man before her, a terrible truth reared it's ugly head. Who was this man? Pieces of the puzzle snapped into place. The voice... She had heard it for months in her dreams. Rumbles of laughter that shook her to the core and left her sobbing when she awoke to find it was only a lie.... A memory come to jab a sour finger into her wounds.

The touch.... A ghostly feeling. No, not a feeling at all. The absence of the sense. She could recall so suddenly and clearly all of the times she had held that hand of his. It had felt like nothing at all..

"...S-saph...?" It was near painful how her voice wavered and jumped.

Her eyes darted to the wound she had planted on him. She had missed the heart slightly... her perfect hand print had wandered too far to the right, but...

But he wasn't moving. Oh, god... He wasn't moving! The Gorgon dropped to her knees, trembling violently, and hunched over him. Her hands reached out, intent on feeling for a pulse or breath... anything that signaled he might still live. But she paused.. and withdrew them. She could not touch him... not without gloves. The blood drained from her face as she sat there, unable to move, or breath, or even think.... if he wasn't already dead, he was surely dying before her.

Then, a scream tore its way out of her throat that was so shrill and forceful it didn't even sound human. There were no tears... she hadn't cried in months, but god did she wail. Saphirus... Saphirus... Saphirus... She had killed him. She had killed him with her bare hands! The only person she had ever loved... the man she had dreamed of, prayed for, and begged to come find her... she had struck him down the moment he had appeared. The words he had spoken danced around her head, mocking her mercilessly as she fixed her eyes on his face.

...What was left of his face.

”It's okay...” With his dying breath he had tried to reassure her. Everything would be okay.

But you killed him.

That scarred face suddenly shifted, changing right before her eyes. The body shrank, and before her lay Charlie. The tears came then, blurring her vision and distorting the picture. Was she seeing things?... Had she finally lost her mind? ..No... no. She was being punished. She had failed... Failed with her life, failed in her faith, failed to save a child from being slaughtered. And now... now she had failed Saph. Panic gripped her chest. It was suddenly hard to breath... her eyes darted left and right, no longer seeing Saphirus at all, and she crawled back to her feet.

He was dead.. She had killed him. There was nothing left now... no hope, no future. She was truly alone.

The sounds of voices reached her ears. Somewhere, someone was approaching. She blinked, her self induced stupor lifting, and stared down at her hands. Somewhere in between dropping to her knees and them crawling to her feet again she had lost her weapon. When she dropped her eyes to look for it, they landed on the body. Saph's body...

No. Not Saph anymore. Saph was dead.. long gone. The body was just another slab of meat to feed scavengers. Her features relaxed, slipping back into a placid mask. She was gone before the small group of foragers stumbled upon Saph's unconscious form.

Megan wiped sweat from her brow and sighed wearily. It had been a long, hot day... the many who still needed tending too were numerous, and those who were capable of cleaning and patching wounds, changing bandages, or giving out proper doses of the few medicines they had. She'd been learning for nearly a year now all of the duties of a nurse. She'd learned the proper techniques for dealing with many different types of injuries. She knew three different ways to sew someone up with sutures. At the moment, she was elbow deep in cleaning out an infection from a gaping wound in a man's leg... and yet there was still so much more she needed to learn.

Pouring the last of her clean water over the injury, she dabbed gently at the leakage spilling out. She would need more water before it was clean enough to slather in ointment and patch up. "Keep really still, okay? I need to go grab some more water." The man she was nursing nodded weakly, unable to look at her through the bandages covering his eyes. With another sigh, she hefted herself up and grabbed her bucket. Halfway to the supply tent, however, she was stopped in her tracks. Three men were rushing into the camp, another held aloft between them. Her training kicked in and she set her bucket down in order to rush over and assist them. Another, thankfully professional, medic joined her. The unmoving male was hauled quickly into the largest of the tents, a makeshift operating room. He was deposited on a table while doctors and nurses of all sorts huddled above him. They knew the man... he had been in the camp before for a long while.

Megan watched from the sidelines, a tray of sterilized utensils clutched in her hands. She recognized him as well. She had never spoken to him directly, but his wounds had been some of the worst she had ever seen. "I don't seen any wounds... no blood either. Let's get this clothing off." They set about peeling stripping him of the upper half of his wardrobe, only.. some of it refused to budge. Mummers and curious whispers floated around the table as they snipped around what appeared to be a solid chunk of rock fused into his chest.

... in the shape of a human hand.

They thought it was fascinating. Megan thought it was downright creepy.

"...he's... still breathing. I don't see any trauma, and his pupils are still dilating correctly." It was decided rather quickly that with such a strange injury, they would simply have to leave it alone. He was moved into a different tent, one filled with cots and many injured and dying people tucked away with in. Megan found herself swiftly re-assigned to aid the man until he woke up, seeing as he couldn't aid himself. She didn't bother arguing. Instead she dragged a small stool over and fished out a cool water drenched washcloth. In the heat beating down on them, anyone who didn't attempt to keep hydrated and cool themselves down was sure to expire quickly.

With another sigh, she wrung the cloth out and pressed it gently against the scarred man's forehead.

It's okay... It's okay

The words swam about in his head endlessly... But the truth was...


It wasn't.

It was very much not okay.

All he knew was pain. A string of fire that started at his skin, and dove down deep into his chest, reaching for his heart told him all he needed to know about the world; the world was bad. The world was a horrible place filled with agony, pain... and... what else was it?

Oh yes... Betrayal.

The image of a woman, more clear than he's seen it with his foggy eyes, appeared before him. Her face was a mask of rage, her hand reaching out for his heart in order to stop it in it's tracks...

Why? Why had she killed him?

"Why...." The word echoed through his mind and out of his mouth... He struggled as the cloth touched his forehead. "Why..."

The burning in his mind slowly cooled momentarily, and she ceased struggling...

It would be hours before he awoke, and when he did, he would do so in silence, his eyes slowly opening, and staring at the ceiling... seeing nothing.

After a few more moments, he spoke in a deep, grating voice. "I'm not dead..."

Hours passed by. He moved in small fits, legs or arms twitching every now and then and a soft writhing... as if he were touched by a bad dream. It wasn't the first time she had seen it. More than a few of the poor souls that ended up in the camp were plagued by nightmares. Of what exactly, she wasn't sure. She'd learned not to ask, but to simply sit and offer a patient smile when the victim awoke.

It was no different this time. The man's voice awoke her from a dreamless nap. The book she had been reading had fallen from her lap onto the ground. She paid little heed to it as she retrieved the cloth from the man's forehead and stood to re-soak it. "..No, you aren't." Once the rags were cold and moist again, she returned to his side.

Gently, the cool cloth was laid back against his forehead, and she bent to retrieve her book. "I would rest if I were you, though, and not get too exited about all that living you get to do just yet. You need to catch your strength, and let your wound heal." Megan let her book close and folded her hands over it. The guy was a walking trove of scar tissue. The doctors had told her that he would have issues with his eyes, due to the scarring over them, as well as issued with his hearing. Really, Megan didn't even know how it was that he had been out there moving around on his own. If she had been subjected to whatever it was, massive amounts of heat if she had any guesses, she would have curled up into a ball and let herself die a long time ago.

... which, only made her reflect back to the very reason she was still alive in the first place. Someone throwing away his life for hers. In a terrible way, she wished he had survived so that she could tell him what a terrible mistake he had made.

"..No, you aren't." A woman's voice chimed in...

The rest of her words fell on def ears... He wasn't dead... He was alive... Why?

"Where am I?"

He couldn't tell... there was movement around him... he was in a place with many people laying and stirring... it was familiar, actually... He'd been here before.

The woman's voice was familiar as well... from a past life... One he'd all but given up on... He hadn't even told anyone here his name. He was just that burnt guy who brought back salvage every once in a while... A cough tore from his throat, and he growled under his breath. "Water..."

His eyes closed, and he saw the image from his dream... The angry green woman he loved... tearing out his heart. His eyes opened again, and a warm tear slid down his burnt face... he almost didn't feel it.

"You're safe, and in good hands."

The twenty six year old reached over to the metal tray at her side and lifted a Styrofoam cup. Standing, she gently hooked her fingers under his head. "I'm going to help you tip your head up so you can take a drink, okay?" Every action came with a soft warning these days. After the last time she had been socked in the chest for trying to arrange a pillow under a blind man's head. "Alright, here we go..."

With slight pressure, she let the guy do most of the moving and angled the cup toward him. A slight tip, minimal pressure against him in case he passed out again, she let the water flow in short spurts until he was finished. With the task complete, she removed herself from her bubble in order to let him relax again. Over the months she had spent in the camp she had learned not to try and baby people. Some wanted attention, sure, but most were content with knowing that help was never to far away and simply wished to be left alone. While she didn't know which type this guy would turn out to be, she was comfortable with letting him adjust to his surroundings and the situation at hand, before she accidentally overwhelmed him.

"You should rest. I will be right here if you need anything else." Reclaiming her seat, the wooden chair creaked quietly and she opened her book once more.

Several months would pass, with him in that bed... stewing, hurting, silently gravitating between sorrow and rage.

With time, though, the pain faded away. The sorrow began to fade as well.

The rage did not.

Back when he'd been scavenging... before... before he had the now deep, deep scar in the shape of a dainty little hand in his chest... He'd thought his hate had dissipated. But it had only been covered by a thin, and fragile gloss. What was it called... hope?

Something like that.

He could feel it now... tattered and weak, trying to hold back a raging beast. He was stubborn, and grumpy. Blunt and on a short fuse. Any person caring for him was surely an unfortunate soul... But at the same time, a loneliness hung about the air in his presence that would pull on the heart strings of any kind person... maybe it would balance out. Being caught over and over working his body when he should be resting tended to sway his caretakers the wrong way, though.

It kept his mind off things, though, and he needed that as much as he needed not to feel like he was sitting in a bed and rotting.

Time seemed to fly by before her eyes. Weeks passed, and before she knew it all of the people she had been tending to no longer needed her. Some healed and were able to move on, others fell into worse condition and needed someone with more knowledge at their sides. She did not find herself bored, however... New faces seemed to show up daily, crawling out of the shadows to offer their services to the small community in exchange for medical attention and food. Megan found herself dolling out rations twice a day, as well as stopping by to help out in the infirmary tents when she had the time.

With lunch over and nothing better to do, she tucked two quarters of bread under an arm and carried a bowl of soup with her toward one of the large medical tents. As she approached the makeshift shelter, she narrowly avoided walking straight into a woman who was storming her way out.

"I can't believe that man! Never listens to a damn word out of my mouth, and I know it's not because of his damn hearing!" Tired, icy eyes watched the women stomp away, all while muttering soft curses under her breath, before Megan smirked and turned back to the tent.

She was rather familiar with the few regulars that still remained from the months prior, but she know only one who managed to throw the other nurses into such fits. ""Riling up the staff again, are you?" Barely casting a glance his way, Megan set the bowl she carried down on metal tray that sat next to his cot, and dragged her usual chair over. After dropping one of the chunks of bread, she sat herself down and tugged her book out from under her other armpit.

"Today's some kind of chowder, pretty good if I do say so myself." The old, worn out book cracked open and she crossed her legs lazily. She'd read the thing five times now at least, but it always helped to calm down the speedy pace at which her mind liked to travel these days.

He'd been working out again... The head nurse, a chubby, shrew of a woman, had given him an ear full... He ignored here, and kept to his push ups. He felt a bead of sweat form on his brow, and he felt it fall to the ground, its perfectly spherical form smashing into the ground...

Most people didn't know that water droplets were round... or spherical he supposed... He did. He could feel them.

He could also feel the pudgy woman charging out, her face in a wrinkle of frustration. He almost felt like chuckling... almost. A familiar form entered as the other left. He finished his last push up, and settled into a sitting position on his cot.

The smell of food made his mouth water, though he didn't show it. "Who's that?" He grumbled... He still hadn't told anyone he could see them. He really hadn't said much of anything... As the woman got comfortable with her book, he nodded dismissively. "Oh, it's you." He slowly picked up the bread, and dipped it into the soup... he would leave it there to cool, and soak... it made it easier to eat, what with the burns and all.

"It's never been good. All tastes the same... Like crap."

He grumbled, and laid back to relax, wincing as his chest complained.

"When can I leave?"

She didn't bat an eyelash at the guys comment, simply replying with a airy chuckle. She was used to that sort of attitude by now, from more than just him, and accepted it. It wasn't like he was rude or outright nasty to anyone, anyway, so there was really no reason to make a big fuss over it. After everything he'd been through just from the looks of him, she was more than willing to at least let him grump at people to his hearts content.

"When you stop wincing like that every time you move too fast." She responded back, biting off a small chunk of bread. Another nurse finished his task off in a corner of the tent and carried his bundle of dirty bandages out with him. Megan watched him leave, her eyes momentarily lifted from her book, before she pinned them on the man at her side. With a sniff, her gaze shifted back down to the blur of words she had read one to many times... but she wasn't really paying attention to them anymore. She had more than a few spiders scattered around the campgrounds, who had been ordered to radio in every now and then to inform her of the what was going on outside of her line of sight. As she concentrated on the murmurer of arachnid voices, her vision actually blurred momentarily and a sudden dizziness overcame her. Flashes of random, incoherent images swam before her eyes... and then with a blink they were gone.

The twenty six year old shook her head, pressing a palm to her temple, and frowned. It wasn't the first time she'd experienced that... whatever it was. Each time she'd see things she couldn't quite make out and then it would be gone, just like that. It was distressing, really. She was starting to feel like she was losing her marbles, and it didn't help that the only other person she's mentioned the strange occurrences to called her a hopeless loony.

As the dizziness lifted, she picked her book up again and glanced back toward the man, her unnamed patient. "Next time i'll make sure to tell the cook to add less ass. Maybe that will make it taste better."

His food was about ready... Soggy, warm, and soft... He took a few slow bites of his bread. It really wasn't bad today; he would have to sneak more of it later... maybe tell the other nurse he didn't get a meal. The late shift was a little slow, after all. Another few bites slowly silenced his complaining stomach, and he took a break from eating, opting to let the rest of the bread soak a bit longer.

Her comment about his wincing almost drew out a snarl, but he held it back... no use snapping at her again. "I'll be here forever, then... some wounds never stop hurting."


He returned to his meal, frustrated and grumpy as always. As he ate, he noticed her movements; a little wobble, a hand placed on the head...

Head ache, perhaps? He debated inwardly on whether or not to bring it up. His eyes had been closed the whole time, though... he found it more comforting to keep them shut; at least then he wouldn't be reminded of their worthlessness.


"Next time I'll make sure to tell the cook to add less ass. Maybe that will make it taste better."

It pained him greatly that the statement didn't draw a chuckle from him... Years, or even months ago it would have... but... he just couldn't laugh anymore. He wondered if he ever smiled, either... he couldn't remember off the top of his head.

The distant pop of a gun going off, pleasantly enough on the side of his good ear, broke him from his thoughts... The hunters, perhaps? They usually didn't find food so close...

"What was that?" He asked, putting on his helpless blind man act. He had to keep it up, after all... where else could he stew in his own self hatred and confusion without people making him work?

She chose to ignore his comment entirely. Responding to things like that had only ever opened up opportunities for arguments in the past and she honestly rather liked not having to get heated about anything these days. With tensions already as strained as they were, and the level of stress at an all time high, it was best to just let it be and keep her trap shut... It didn't stop her from smirking ever so slightly, however. Lifting her book and flipping a well worn page, Megan proceeded to bury her nose as far into it as she could and attempted to lose herself in the story.

She had found over the months that reading took the edge off of the real world and gave her something else to think about while she was elbow deep in other peoples problems. Recently she had taken to fictional stories. Tales with dashing heroes in not-so-shiny armor who took on dragons with magical swords and wooed damsels in distress (or tavern wenches, as it were). Though it wasn't as realistic as some of the other books she had already conquered, like the 'Soup for the chickens soul' series, or a few of the books recommended by Dr. Hill... It was nice to read about someone, even if they were a complete tool (and imaginary), who was worse off that her.


... at least for the moment, anyway.

The usual silence had settled over them, something that had become a habit in her time spent with the burned man. Until the sharp echos of what sounded like gunfire reached their ears. She didn't pay attention to it at first, not until her companion voiced a question about it and she forced herself to pay attention. Her book lowered, blue eyes rose and pinned themselves on the entrance to the medical tent, Megan frowned in concentration.

What's going on?

...nothing. Her spiders were uncomfortably silent. The frown deepened with agitation, and she slapped her book closed. It landed with a soft thump in her seat as she stood, "I dunno... I'm gonna go find out though. Be right back." Her feet moved her swiftly toward the door, but before she managed to so much as set a toe outside something small and fast punctured through the tent wall to her left. The canvas was suddenly imprinted with clean new holes, and the bullets smacked into a metal tray beside a cot, sending it flying across the rooms length.

Megan flinched, caught completely off guard.. and then screaming reached them. Fear jolted up her spine, followed quickly by adrenaline. Something was wrong... She reached out to her spiders again instantly. After a moment that seemed like forever, one of them got back to her.

Danger... death... weapons.

It was a raid!

Before she could turn and bolt for the small stash of weapons in the tent, her vision was once again flooded by erratic flashes of images. Red... red... bodies... flashes of light and glimpses of people fleeing. The screams grew in numbers quickly, as the rest of the camp started to react to what was going on, as did the sound of gunfire. Someone flew into the tent in a blur, one of the nurses, and moved directly to the stash of weapons Megan had been aiming for. "We're under attack! Megan, you need to help Sasha and the Derick get the children out of here, they're waiting for you over by the su-" The rest of what he was saying was cut off abruptly as another small spray of bullets whizzed through the thin canvas walls. THe man collapsed, his rifle clattering to the floor as Megan dropped to the ground and covered her head.

"..Oh.. oh #@%$.." She waited until it was safe to look up, and flinched. The guy was dead.. there was no way he was would survive such a head wound. Her instincts and minimal training took over and she scrambled for the gun. Megan was up on her feet in a flat second and already tossing all sorts of medical supplies into a messenger bag before she even realized she was doing it. A glance over her shoulder at her injured companion came a moment later, to see if he was even still among the living.

The unnamed man knew what was happening even before the girl did... The shots became more frequent. Closer... He could feel them; slight taps off in the distance, peeking over the din of the camp outside, and then slamming into soft pillows. He felt one stray as it smacked through the tent, and hit a metal tray. His hand moved like a blur, catching the shrapnel before it hit him in the face. By instinct alone he aimed his head at her and opened his eyes, seeing a fuzzy image; a blob of a man falling, and the girl as well...

Good, she hadn't noticed his catching of the bullet. The former super hero picked the remains of the bullet from his hand, and slowly stood, walking toward his would-be nurse... The man, now very much dead, had been telling her to help fight and withdraw the children... his senses told him they were surrounded... there was no way they would get out alive with all of the camp's children. She scrambled toward the medical supplies after picking up the gun, he stood watching her from his spot in the middle of the room. Bullets were zipping about outside, and panicked people were running. "They'll try to sell the women children as slaves... They'll kill everyone else. We need to leave."

He seriously hoped she didn't plan to try and fight the invaders off... he could tell from the gunshots alone that there were quite a few of them; more than she could fight off... More than he could fight off alone... at least... without some assistance. "We can come back for them... but if you don't want to die, you need to come with me. Do you hear me?"