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It was the morning of the second day. She knew, in theory, how incredibly melodramatic she was being, to constantly remind herself that there was a gaping hole in her heart and mind--

Knowing this didn't make it any easier to swallow. To reach out for that crotchety presence who had made himself beyond scarce, had made himself absolutely silent.

Are you there? Why aren't you talking to me? Where did you go?

Nothing but her own mind's busy thoughts answered her, running again and again over what Rep had told her yesterday. Clerise squeezed the pillow in her hands, trying desperately not to rip it to shreds. Sunny had told her, very sweetly, that she wouldn't be getting another.

Had it come with a threat of a sedative, the redhead might have disobeyed on purpose. She pressed her face into the pillow, screaming again, long and hard.

The sound was muffled, and she just sat there, one hand chained to the bed and the other curled in her hair.

The redhead looked up from behind a curtain of limp red hair, her eyes angry.

At herself. At the burns on Sasha's neck. At the innocence that the other girl still seemed to possess, radiating rainbows and sunshine and ******** kittens.

Maybe she was projecting a little.

"What do you want," the injured trainee hissed, the scars around her right eye still angry and red, little feather shaped stamps on her skin.

She had no other greeting for Sasha.

Clerise dared Sasha to run-- it probably would have been a kinder fate.

"Spit it out already, jesus christ," she muttered, leaning back against the head of her hospital bed, eyes sliding away from Sasha's to glare a hole into the floor.

"Check on me?" Clerise curled her lip, laughing. "It's not like you can do anything to help. It's not like you can do anything on your own at all."

While the words were cruel, her tone was nigh hysterical, raising up in pitch towards the end of her sentences. Clerise's nails dug into the pillow in her hand, trying her best to get her shoulders to stop that infernal shaking.

Come back. You are a rat b*****d and I hate you but I need you-- do you ******** hear me?

No reply.

There was no reason to be so cruel to Sasha. She was the sweetest little thing Clerise had ever met in her whole ******** life, but at the same time..For just a split second in time...

It felt good to reduce someone to her own levels of misery, to hear the tremor in her voice.

Right about now, Balthazar would have chided his wielder with the ferocity of a rabid dog. Would have defended Sasha-- he had been so fond of her, and she could almost hear him snarling in disapproval.

But no, there was only silence. Silence and the fact that, even after Clerise had cut into her, Sasha lifted up her flute with a trembling hand, offering to play it for her, to sing to her.

To her. A memory of a voice as clear as a bell floated through Clerise's mind, soft and gentle and pure. The choir auditions had only been a few days ago, no matter how long ago it felt like. In a world far away, where she was competent and vivacious and happy.

Clerise deflated, shrinking back-- and looked at Sasha without a word, expression no longer angry. Instead, it was simply broken.

"Sing," she asked, voice gruff, fingers twisting in her sheets. "I remember. Uh. Your ********' voice from choir and s**t."

A long wait. "Please?"

Clerise stared at the bed. "Close the door," she murmured, voice scratchy, struggling to hold back emotions.

She looked up at Sasha, debating.

Why did you leave me? Of all the ******** times, over the pettiest ******** s**t.

The girl had warmly told her. Had told Clerise in sweet, saccharine tones, that she was there for Clerise. Blunt nails dug into sternum, as if she was trying to yank it out of her chest, the pain a dull thud around it.

"The uh. The horseman..." She gripped her skin tighter, gaze downcast. It had been easier to blurt it out to Rep, who had damn near shaken her half to death to get the truth out of her.

"They..." She looked up at Sasha, eyes wet, heaving a deep breath. Her mood was a roller-coaster, and the tears weren't entirely from sorrow. Instead, they were borne from

"Uh. Well." Clerise slid a hand under her pillow, pulling Balthazar out by his chain. She clicked him open, so carefully, cradling him like a baby bird in her hands. "Look."

She revealed her weapon in its unsummoned form to Sasha, the face cracked beyond readability. He wasn't a tablet, but that may just have been because she wasn't dead-- or even usable any more.

You can't be so fragile. I'm the one that's made of meat and blood and fragile bones-- you're metal and runes. Come back, you ******** coward.

I hate you.

It's thought with desperation and little else.

"I uh. Got into a spar with Clarice back a month or so ago. I was in ...this room, actually, for like a week. He got cracked then."

She laid him down on the blanket, staring down at it blankly. "Then I woke up and he was gone." Clerise tapped her temple, brow furrowed.

"Listen, I uh. I didn't mean to..." Her words are tense, and it's a struggle to apologize-- but Sasha, of all people, doesn't need the redhead's wrath.

Please come back.

Clerise kept her eyes trained on the ceiling to keep her tears at bay, rubbing at her arms. "I can't even feel him."

Clerise pressed her face into Sasha's hand, wordlessly appreciating her attention.

She leaned forward as much as the cuff to her bed would allow, giving Sasha a one armed hug.

"You and me both, sweet thing." Her wounds were still tender, the cuts engraved on her face and shoulder barely healed over.

Now that they were cutting down her painkillers, the soreness was starting to seep in, especially her leg.

"If I'm useless--" Clerise struggled to keep her composure, "it'll be bad. I need to research in the labs, but..."

Rep had made it clear to her that she'd need to tell someone. There wasn't really any choice here; Clarice was the best possible option, assuming she wasn't obligated to tell H everything she knew.

"I promise I'll talk to someone," the redhead said with conviction, sighing.

"Christ. I just...I can't deal with the silence."

Clerise smiled at Sasha, half sad and half something enigmatic.

She didn't answer the question, and instead chose to lace their fingers together. "You're a good person, Sasha." It's said with conviction, as if there was no question at all about her statement.

"Assuming nothing goes haywire, I'll keep you in the loop. Don't worry too much about me, I'll...figure something out." Clerise took in a deep breath, calming herself.

Two people knew, now. Two people that Clerise had trusted with what could, quite literally, be the death of her, for all she knew. In the past she would have smacked herself upside the head, but...

She trusted them. The silence was still raw, the familiar irate quips and occasional approving statements a missing staple of her life...

But at least she had her people, precious few as they were.

"Something is brewing, and I need to know you'll have your head in the game." Clerise gave Sasha a long look. "Promise me you'll try to be safe."