Water.

That’s what the sound was, he finally decided. But it was soft, a constant that his mind was far too fogged to pay much attention to. His eyes were open, staring upward, but just what he was seeing, even if it was only the cloth covering of a wagon, was difficult to process. Separate, that’s how his body and mind felt, and when he tried to move, he found the best he could do was open his eyes.

A bump in the road, wagon wheels squeaking as one briefly rose up above the others.

He stared at a tear, a break in the fabric where he could make out a sliver of the stormy sky above them. Thunder rumbled in the air, a sound he hadn’t heard in a very long time. Over a year, he supposed, and whatever conscious part of himself was hit with something that resembled nostalgia.

Numbness.

The ache was still there, duller than it had been but the pain had lessened. His face, where he’d been struck to be exact, hurt worse than the rest of him. It seemed backwards, something so minor outranking the thing that had nearly taken his life. But the numbness stayed and for a while everything felt as if it was teetering on an edge he couldn’t see, just waiting to slip away from him again.

There was a muffled whinny nearby but his eyelids felt far too heavy for him to be able to focus on the sound. A drop of rain fell down, sliding across the tired lines of his face until it patted down softly on the folded fabric beneath him. A cough stirred in his chest, weak as ever.

But as unwell as he felt, something about it was peaceful. After years of chaos, he could finally rest. The pain was fading finally, ebbing away the longer he lay there in the back of the wagon.

With one last roll of thunder, everything slipped away completely.

Darkness was beginning to feel normal.

He’d woken up again, alone and in a place he couldn’t name, but the second time was different and terrifyingly familiar. However, it didn’t reek of death and desolation and the ceiling sported no crack to stare through. The walls were wood, not stone, but the floor was just as rough and unforgiving as the last place.

Even so, it was different.

He was alone again and there were no sounds, no dripping of water that would send him into madness once again. It was smaller than the last cell, still large enough to allow him to walk around if he could, and somehow not as dark. Even if it was still dark, something felt different about it.

For a while he had been laying there, listening to the silence and willing himself to move. It felt like a dream, a waking dream that left his mind in a fugue, a mess of confusion that he wasn’t able to decipher. He only knew it was a cell by the faint outline of the bars and the chains behind him though they weren’t attached to anything at all.

But the cell wasn’t as empty as the last and the pile of blankets beside the straw cot he rested on seemed out of place. However, he wondered just what would feel like it fit, blended with the rest of the cell. Nothing came to mind that would fit in a place where last time he’d been doomed to die only to survive at a cost much greater than he wanted to consider.

The pain was still there.

It was his only constant, a reminder of what happened however long ago. He didn’t know where he’d been or how long he’d been out. But the air was warmer than the cold he’d felt in the east, and he vaguely remembered the rain that fell when he was in the back of a wagon. If it wasn’t the east, then where?

Aurora moved to roll over onto one side, trying his best not to make a sound when the bandages tugged at still healing skin. His eyes stared down at it, the note and the compass placed just beside it. Frowning, he wondered just when it had been taken from him. Lifting a shaking hand, he reached out for it, pulling it up against his chest with a sigh.

The note was more difficult to grab, fingers fumbling for the paper as he brought it closer. Though the handwriting was simple, easy to read, the dark made it difficult for the letters to be made out.

Aurora,

It’s been several days since you’ve been awake. I don’t know if you are going to wake up and if you will even be able to read this when you do but I’ll come soon. You may not remember everything and I’ll try to explain if I can. Just know that you’re safe. Someone still believes you’re worth saving even if that person isn’t me. Rest well, I guess. We have a lot to talk about.

It was unsigned but the handwriting was something he recognized in the back of his mind, familiar after so many years of watching it change from scribbles to something faintly legible. He rolled over again, staying on his back as he held the compass against him. Sleep felt more enticing the longer he lay there and even if he was, yet again, in a cell, something was different about it. He’d been saved, spared from death once more, and there was someone out there who believed that was worthwhile.

That part baffled him.

No one should have saved him. No one should have stopped an inevitable that was only being delayed further. Redemption wasn’t something he deserved, after all.

And yet, whether he liked it or not, he was alive.

Two days have gone by since the chains had been removed from his wrists. They’d been rubbed raw already and, whether it was some form of pity or mercy, Daniel had finally agreed to take them off. He wasn’t going anywhere and that much was the one thing they both knew for certain.

He remembered what happened, slowly at first, but gaps still remained between what he knew and what was still lost in the fog. Getting shot was the worst and somehow the most prominent thing he recalled from recent times. Daniel was there, briefly, and then most things blurred together.

Standing was difficult and at the sound of the door that rang out through the dark, it became more obvious once again. He still leaned against the wall heavily, relying on it to keep himself upright, and his legs still shook when he tried walking. Healing was slow, far too slow in his opinion, and that part was quite possibly the worst.

“Morning, Officer Norton.”

“Quiet.”

Aurora smiled, arms crossing in front of his chest with some difficulty. “A simple ‘hello’ would have sufficed. Why are you being cross with me?”

A lantern came closer, sending shadows reeling backwards as Daniel came closer. He waited, eyes watching as they went, until something landed with a dull thud on the floor of his cell. Aurora frowned, pushing off the wall and limping towards it as best he could.

“I thought you might want it back.”

He bent down stiffly, stifling a groan as he snatched the hat from the ground and placed it back on his head. It slipped down, still a decent bit too large for his head, but as it fell he only smiled brighter.

“I thought you hated it.”

“You don’t look like yourself without it,” Daniel answered simply.

Aurora shrugged. “Well, I’m not myself.”

Silence.

He reached up, nudging the brim away from his eyes. “You told me once that you’d burn it.”

“I know.”

Aurora came rigidly to the bars, walking stiffly and keeping one hand around his middle.

“You’re walking,” Daniel stated plainly.

“Trying to,” Aurora answered with a snort.

“That’s…that’s good.”

Aurora frowned. “Why are you being cryptic, my friend? Two days ago you swore that you wanted me dead-“

“Nothing’s changed-“

“You brought me my hat.”

Daniel’s boots scuffed over the stone as he moved warily closer to the bars between them. He looked up, catching Aurora’s eyes for a moment before his gaze fell to the floor.

“If nothing has changed, like you’re saying, why did you come back?”

A shrug. “I had to.”

“Why?”

Daniel’s eyes hardened. “It doesn’t matter.”

Aurora only smiled. “Can I ask you a question?”

“No-“

“Please?”

Sighing, Daniel ran a hand through his hair. “I probably can’t answer it but you’re welcome to try.”

“Why am I here? Who is keeping me? You know, I had my fair stay in a prison cell, Daniel, and I really don’t appreciate being in one again.”

A cough and Daniel reached up to rub at the back of his neck. “That’s more than one question but…it’s not really for me to say. You’re lucky to be alive and I don’t know if you remember everything but-“

“I remember,” Aurora assured. “I’m assuming I have you to thank for my life. Is someone else involved?”

Daniel shook his head. “You wouldn’t believe me if I told you. Someone thinks you deserve to be alive but-“

“Yes, I know, it’s not you.”

“It’s not me,” Daniel repeated softly. “But yes, I convinced her to let you stand for a trial after you were shot. She was going to leave you there in the snow. You stood up to her and she…doesn’t like that.”

Aurora grinned. “I know. I’m a terrible, but I really would love to know why I’m here and who saved me.”

A small annoyed grunt sounded from the other man as he set the lantern down at his feet, arms crossing much in the way Aurora had done. He cleared his throat, motioning for Daniel to continue with one hand.

“It isn’t for me to say-“

“You’re still being wonderfully cryptic,” Aurora mumbled.

“I don’t know why they saved you because I don’t understand-“

Aurora laughed, cutting him off. “I don’t either. Every day I was locked away, I thought about why I was there. No one would ever come for me, not to save someone like me, Daniel. I’ve given up on the hope of being anymore more than a useless…” He trailed off, unsure of how to continue.

Daniel was silent.

He swallowed. “The way I see it, whoever did save me didn’t do me a favor. All they did was give me more chances to ruin things in my life and…your life. I’ve been a menace to you for as long as I can remember.”

“You-“

“You don’t need to remind me that I’m worthless, Daniel. Believe me,” he said, smiling sadly as he leaned against the bars, “I know.”

Nothing.

Aurora looked down at the ground, chuckling bitterly. “I’m sorry, I got a bit carried away. I may not know who wants me alive, but you saved my life. I supposed that makes us even, doesn’t it?”

Daniel’s frowned, head tilting as he peered up again. “What are you talking about? You owe me…we’re not even.”

From what he could assume, Daniel didn’t remember the faeloren, the attack that left the two of them as survivors. Aurora had been angry initially but it wasn’t Daniel’s fault that he didn’t remember if that was the truth. Part of him wanted to blame him but he couldn’t bring himself to do that, not after Daniel was one of the reasons he was alive.

However, Aurora couldn’t decide if he truly appreciated that.

He frowned, meeting Daniel’s eyes again with a sigh. “Of course, forgive me. I’m not sure I do remember everything.”

But Daniel didn’t answer him, reaching down for the lantern.

“Does she know what you did, Daniel?”

He froze. “What are you talking about?”

“Does Rowena know?”

Daniel was quiet for a while, mouth dropping open but not a sound escaped him. Aurora waited, perhaps more patiently than he ever had. There was some shred of himself that worried, not only for Daniel, but for the possibility that she knew where they were, what had happened. Then again, he considered, something had him worried for Daniel too.

“No, she doesn’t.”

Aurora nodded. “Good.”

“Don’t worry, she doesn’t know where we are or even that I stayed back to…” He trailed off, shaking his head. “As far as she knows, I left the day before you were supposed to be executed.”

“You do know she will find out, don’t you?”

Silence.

“I’ll come back tomorrow. I have things to do,” Daniel answered softly, turning his back.

Aurora cleared his throat. “Daniel?”

“Yes?”

“Thank you.”

Daniel turned slowly, confusion on his face lit by the light of the lantern. “What?”

“I said, thank you-“

“No, I heard you. I just…” Daniel shook his head again, staring off.

Aurora looked up again. “I take back what I said earlier. You don’t have to believe me but thank you for giving me another chance.”

Daniel didn’t speak another word, leaving and taking the lantern light with him. The door closed and Aurora moved back to the wall, limping until he was able to sit back down on the cot once more.

His head fell back against the stone.

It went dark but it was again different than it had been before, softer, a gentler surrounding that didn’t feel so desolate. He was beaten, every shred of the fight in him having died slowly until it faded away to nothing, but he wondered if that was the same was being broken. That’s what he was, a broken man, flawed, faulty, and yet for some reason, someone believed that shell of a person was important.

He’d often considered what it meant to be alive, to live beyond just existing. Perhaps it was simply the hunger, the weeks of maddening silence, but he didn’t ever feel like he was actually living during his time in Rowena’s prison. However, his will to do just that had faded long ago.

And yet, something felt different.

Whether it was good or bad, he didn’t know but it did, in every way possible, different than how things had felt then. It wasn’t him to give up without a fight, without first putting up the greatest attempt he could before something inevitably better, stronger than him, struck him down to his knees. It wasn’t him to give in, bow his head towards something that he knew was wrong.

A part of him didn’t want to believe different would be so bad, rear the same ugly head that he’d stared into the eye of for those months. After all, different didn’t hurt. It didn’t knock him to his back, didn’t rip the breath from his lungs and clutch claws tighter around his heart with every beat. It was simply unlike anything else.

Perhaps different was good.

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