I go find Cheryl, who to no one’s surprise is supervising a sparring session in the training room. Sitting against the wall, I watch two people spar, and make mental notes of their moves, where they shift their weight before striking. But my mind is still spinning, wondering what’s going to happen when I meet up with Barclay.

  I want answers, but I’m worried what else I’ll find out.

  Soon the people are done sparring, and Cher walks over the me.

  “Hey, didn’t think I’d see you so soon.” She uses a towel and wipes the sweat off the back of her neck.

  “Want to go meet my brother now?” She grins at me, and nods. Telling me to give her a minute to freshen up. She ducks into a back room, and I hear water sloshing. A few minutes later, she’s out in a new set of clothes and her hair is damp.

  “Ready.” She says and I lead her upstairs.

  “I’m going to introduce you, and then I’ve got —“ I scramble for a reasonable explanation. “Plans.” I say finally.

  “Plans?” She asks, quirking an eyebrow at me.

  “Yes, plans.” I say firmly, letting her know I don’t want to talk about it.

  “Hmm, okay then.” She mutters, sounding suspicious, but doesn’t say anything else as we open the door to the hospital floor.

  I stay to do introductions as promised, but as soon as Abel pulled out his video game, and gasped, I knew they’d be okay.

  Saying goodbye to them both, I told Abel I’d stop by early tomorrow morning before I left for the supply run. Abel frowned slightly but didn’t say anything as I waved and closed the door to his room behind me, wondering if I should go to Barclay’s room first, but then decided against it. Even if he wasn’t at the roof, I could at least get some fresh air.

  Opening the door to the roof, I immediately noticed the back of Barclay’s figure, but he was walking away from me. Looking down at his feet, he was pacing around the overturned crates where two people from daywatch were playing a card game. The people playing looked up when the heavy door closed behind me. I lifted a hand in a wave, I didn’t know them well.

  Barclay had turned around to come around the boxes, and looked up as well, stopping his pacing.

  In the dim light, I could make out a small smile - was he nervous?

  He motioned then with his free hand for us to walk around the wall outcropping to the other side of the roof. I could see flickering light from around the corner, he must have lit one of the fire drums. I followed him.

  Other than daywatch, no one else was up here. Honestly, no one really came up here unless they were scheduled to. I wasn’t sure why. I loved the height, and looking down at the city beneath us.

  Barclay stopped and motioned to an overturned milk crate with a blanket on it.

  “Sit.”

  “No thanks,” I say as I remain standing and start to pace in front of him, as he sits on the other yellow container. Without a blanket to cushion it, I notice.

  “Please sit,” Barclay tries again, this time sounding exasperated. I cross my arms, and turn to look at him, but I stop moving.

  “Fine,” He sighs, waving an arm at me. “Your choice.”

  “What do you want to know?” He starts, keeping his voice quiet. The roof isn’t huge, and the others probably could hear us if we talked louder.

  “Why did you change my shift for me?” Without asking, I think, but my sharp tone conveys my meaning anyway. “It was my assigned position.”

  “I didn’t want you hurt.” He replies, and I roll my eyes.

  “Yes, you’ve said that but you won’t explain why that matters, or why it seems to be only me you’re worried about.” I start to pace again. “People died last night, and it should have been me down there.”

  “Don’t say that.” Barclay says forcefully, and I inhale sharply. I’m facing away from him, but I hear the crate move as he stands. I turn to face him, and he stand only a couple feet from me, meeting my eyes now. Even in the low light from the nearby fire, they hold the same intensity that his voice did.

  This tale has been pilfered from Royal Road. If found on Amazon, kindly file a report.

  “Don’t ever say that.” He says, softer now.

  “Why? It should have been—“

  “You’ve gone through enough.” Barclay says quietly, as I cross my arms.

  “What do you mean?” I say, my turn to be exasperated. “The fall? I’ve been cleared, I’m healed now.”

  “Not that.” He sighs, and I notice now, despite the intensity in his eyes, they also look tired… and sad.

  “Then what?” The words come out barely above a whisper. “Why are you so worried about me specifically?”

  “I know you’ve been hurting,” He drops his eyes, and runs his good hand along the back of his neck now. “I’m just trying to help.”

  Hurting? What was he talking about? I’d been healed now for, what, months? And— No.

  I turn away from him now, and walk to the edge of the roof, my hands tucked against my stomach.

  He couldn’t know about the nightmares, could he? I’d been so careful, no one knew, how could—

  Barclay stepped beside me to my right, but still keeping some distance between us.

  “I know you feel them, the nightmares—“

  “No!” I shout, and this time, day watch looks up. My face heats and I try to ignore them. “You don’t know anything.” I whisper to him. “You couldn’t.”

  “I do know.” He says, “I know about the nightmares. It’s when people talk about the future and they aren’t going to make it, right? That’s what triggers them?“ His eyes won’t break away from mine now. I wish they would.

  “You know nothing!” My tone is harsh, but I manage to keep my voice down. I close my eyes because I can’t take the intensity of his. The weight that he might know— does know — what I’m going through… I swallow, and ask the question I don’t want to ask.

  “How?” I keep my gaze down as he answers. He shakes his head, but I only see its shadow above me.

  “I don’t know what it’s like for you exactly, only that you’re hurting.” He raises his good arm out, as if to comfort me, but decides at the last second to let it drop, and he walks back to the crates instead.

  Looking out across the city, it’s almost too dark now for me to see the outlines of the buildings. But I start to see the flickering lights of fires in the streets below. I take a minute to gather myself, not feeling rushed. I know there’s more to talk about still, but I also know Barclay will wait for me.

  I return to the crates and sit down.

  “Are you okay?” Barclay whispers after a moment. His head is down and he’s leaning his left forearm against his leg, the other is still in a sling. If anything, it’s him that doesn’t seem okay.

  “Not really,” I admit. He nods absentmindedly, like it’s expected.

  “I’d like to explain - if you’ll let me.” His tone is soft. I nod, and then, realizing he probably can’t see me, say yes.

  “I don’t know what you go through. But I see you.” He looks at me then, and the intensity is back. “The day you fell off that building, my world changed. You were blue, I mean your,” He moves his hand around, gesturing to me as a whole, “Aura, or whatever. It was blue. Still is. I see it all the time now.” I look down at my lap, I feel like the weight of this confession is pressing down on my shoulders, threatening to flatten me.

  “It changes when you — that first time you were in the kitchen, there was a group of guys at the end of the table. Tom,”

  “Don’t.” I say sharply, closing my eyes, willing the feeling to pass.

  “I saw your light that night too, from four floors below me where you stayed on the hospital floor. It was so bright it was like daylight, and during those times it turns more - cerulean, maybe? I was never really into colours.” He laughs slightly. “And I remember wanting to go to you so badly. I knew you were hurting, I knew what you were feeling—“ He pauses, taking a breath. “I feel them too.” His voice turned thick, and my eyes burn with the start of tears. How could he know?

  “I saw your light change every single night you relived their deaths.” His voice is shaking now. “I see it now as you stand in front of me, thinking about it.” He stops, I hear him swallow, and I close my eyes. This time my voice shakes.

  “Why didn’t you come for me that night then? Or all of the others?” I whisper, keeping my eyes closed. “If you knew all this time, why—“

  “And what was I supposed to say?” His voice is thick with emotion, but it’s frustration that seeps into his words now. “That I know you’re seeing people’s deaths, and I know I’m supposed to help you, because your light is blinding me, and the pressure in my chest is pulling me to you. But if I let it, I’m not sure I will ever be able to stop going to you.” His words come out in a rush, and he stops short, like he didn’t mean to say all of that.

  “You asked me why I switch shifts for you.” Barclay looks at me now, and I raise my head too and meet his eyes. “The truth is, I am not sure I will ever be able to stop protecting you, or at least damn well trying.”

  I’m not ready to face what that might mean yet, but something else clicks in my mind.

  “That’s how you’re able to save so many people when you go out on runs.” I pause, suddenly things start piecing together in my mind. “It’s not just me you see, with this aura or whatever, it’s—”

  “Anyone I can help.” He finishes for me.

  “That run, last week, the girl—you didn’t just find her under that shelf did you?” His gaze hasn’t left mine, letting my mind work it out. He shakes his head.

  “She was yellow.”

  “What does yellow mean?” He lets out a short laugh.

  “I have no idea.”

  “So you see the color of those you can help?” I clarify. He nods.

  “So what about me? Why do I need your help all the time?” I ask, my voice coming out bitter for a reason I can’t name. This time he shakes his head.

  “I don’t think that’s it.”

  “Then what is it?”

  “I think,” He breathes out,” I’m drawn to you because we’re supposed to help people together.” I bite back the impulse to tell him he’s wrong. He must be. I take an intentional breath and pause for a moment before speaking.

  “Okay, saying I go along with all of this— your aura, my precognition, or whatever you want to call it, there’s one problem with your theory.”

  “Only one?” Barclay tries to joke, but he doesn’t put in much effort. His smile falls. “What’s the problem?”

  “I can’t stop them. I’ve tried.” I squeeze my eyes shut to stop the images flowing through my mind. Drowning, shooting, stabbing, sickness. Death. Death. Death.

  I feel his hand on mine then, our fingers interlocking. His skin warm against my own. It grounds me, and I look up at him again. The roof has grown fully dark now, and there’s no light around us except for the stars and the nearby fire.

  “We’ve never tried to convince them together.” He says simply.