Greys IV - Chains

Chapter 36 - Trust Me

It was unlike any feeling I had ever experienced - trying to piece together and understand a Fallen, trying to triage something so powerful yet so broken. He was a volcano - huge and looming, powerful and dangerous, but causing itself just as much damage as its surrounding, burning everything as the cost of its own power. Chaos and smoking rubble filled James, rooms and walls all torn down or blown apart. The jagged edges that Malachi had when he first arrived seemed like tiny fissures in a stone where James had gaping chasms. Empty trenches split him apart like a wasteland - and all of it, every last piece, was in ruin.

But there were pieces, and there was no Ambriel, no draw to her, no sinister power, no ice. There was nothing in him, just rubble, just dust and shadows and a vast stretching void of emptiness. But it was him, as far as I could see and feel, it was only him, though not all of him. I gave it another pass, another check, then quickly checked the hearts of the four others pouring themselves into their leader.

In theory, the math checked out, James could lose all of his poisoned blood, every last drop, and each of the others could give just a liter, less even, and everyone should walk away weak but relatively unscathed. But James wouldn't stay unconscious forever, which meant timing was everything now.

With little more than a thought and a flick of my fingers, I closed up Kael and Nevaeh's hands, then Malachi's, and finally Jordan's. She stepped back looking dazed, but only for a moment. Then she straightened, standing tall like she knew eyes were on her. Her jaw set as she watched James.

There was something in her face, even Shifted, like she was searching, but not James - herself. She wanted to feel something for him so badly, and I knew at times she did, but she wanted more, she wanted what they had had before, that connection, that inescapable draw - she wanted fate. And even as he stirred, as I stitched together his arms, Jordan's face still said she didn't find what she was looking for, didn't feel what she wished she could.

"Leave - all of you. I need to talk with my Pair."

Her voice was cool and empty. And though Kael and Nevaeh turned to leave, to obey, if slowly, reluctantly, Malachi didn't twitch a muscle from his spot just ahead of his sister, between her and James, whose eyes were still closed.

"Malachi, go."

"Is that an order? Because that's what it will take for me to leave you alone with him." His voice was low and rough, a complete contrast to his high features. His fists were clenched down by his sides, his muscles tensed like he was planning to fight the physical reaction her order would have on him.

But Jordan didn't take his bait, bait I didn't even think he realized he was dangling before her. In his mind, everything had to be a fight, an injury or order. Everything had to be forced. And if she was to be his leader, his master, it meant she had to force her will on him. Because to him, that's what leaders did, what they were. But that wasn't Jordan.

She pulled her eyes away from her Pair, and looked at her brother with storm cloud gray.

"Trust me."

He audibly growled at her soft words, her lack of fight, glaring at her even as she calmly watched him back, the controlled balance to his wild emotion. It mirrored their upbringing, their past and personalities. One apathetic for the majority of her life, uncaring and unconnected to a world she thought she didn't belong in - until she learned she did belong, but in a very different way, a way she was determined to fight, to fix. To control. And one born and bred for anger, for violence, for striking first before he could be dealt the same damage - until he was pulled out of it and given a choice. Just like the choice Jordan was giving him now.

He was used to being forced, never having to take responsibility, and I think, deep down, he had found comfort in that. I think that was all that had kept him together for a long time - telling himself that it wasn't really his guilt to hold or his mistakes to carry because it wasn't really him that had chosen them. But there was also tension in that life. He liked his freedom, craved it, even if it scared him, and he was still finding the balance between those two opposing pulls. A balance Jordan was trying to gently guide him toward. He was easier for me to understand now, to see, really see. It was clear he was only at ease when he was in pain or chaos, but I didn't want either for him. And neither did Jordan.