Living on Writer's Block

When she woke up again, she immediately recalled Gide. She sat up, staring darkly at the door. “I’m gonna kill him,” she muttered.

“I wouldn’t, if I were you,” said the familiar drawl of Samuel’s voice from the other side of the room. She glanced over.

“If I may remind you, Captain,” she said, her voice trembling, “I’ve had a bit too much drugged sleep in the past week. I’d — rather not — have it forced on me — again — by people I presumed to be my friends.” She glared icy blue daggers at him, chest heaving with pent-up emotion. She hid her wet eyes in her hands. A brave girl like you wouldn’t be caught dead with a teary eye. Now, where did that come from? Oh — the tavern. She quickly pressed her fists, knotted up in the wool blanket, into her eyes, feigning rage but, really, crushing back the tears. 

Samuel stared blankly at her. “Oh,” he said quietly after a moment. “Oh, d– er…  dear.”

“Oh dear? Oh — DEAR??” she burst out, emerging from the blanket with a jerk and glaring hard. “Really, you remember that and you say ‘Oh dear’!” 

“I had other words on the edge of my tongue, Redhawk, but I decided against using them,” he said coolly, looking away from her. “You ought to know I think a bit more of the situation than that. And, I don’t suppose you noticed, your pain is gone? Hmm?”

She blinked in amazement as she realized he was right. She could move again without the racing, fiery trails of sparks swirling up and twisting agonizingly around her body. She sighed, burying her face in the blanket again. “I’m sorry, I shouldn’t’ve — yelled — like that. Of course you realize… I —” She suddenly went still, relaxing with another quiet sigh. She brought her face out of the blanket and let her hands rest in her lap with a sigh, staring down at her fingers as they loosened around the blanket. “They’re not… scarred over… yet,” she said softly. 

He glanced briefly at her. “I understand. I’m sorry, of course, I didn’t consider that when Wilhelm told me of his intentions to make you sleep a little longer once you woke. However, we both thought it might be a good idea to help you rest under the influence of some medicines we know and can control. But I never thought of your past — or how it could affect you.” He gave a tiny bow, as much as he could muster from the bed. “I beg your forgiveness, Redhawk.”

She looked over, considering for a moment, then bent her head low and lowered her gaze in a minuscule bow of her own. “Of course, Captain. You did what you thought best.” As she raised her head again, there was a long, peaceful pause as they each returned to their own separate thoughts, then Ramona said, “I don’t think I’ve actually really thanked you yet for saving me, Captain.”

“Probably true,” he said.

“Well — may I?”

He looked over at her. “I suppose, if you must.”

“Then, thank you, Captain Samuel,” she said, with another slight bow.

He nodded. “It really wasn’t a big deal,” he said nonchalantly. “You’re a friend, the only one I’ve got; I mean to look out for you.”

“N-not a big—?” She stared at him in disbelief. “But Samuel, you nearly died! How — how is that not — a big deal to you?”

He gave her a slight smile. “I’ve come as near death many times before, Redhawk. I don’t have all these scars for no reason.”

“I’m sure,” she said drily. 

“I’ve gone toe to toe with the hooded skeleton over much more trivial things as well, I nearly regret to say; I was a bit wilder then.” He grunted as he shifted himself against the pillows to sit up a bit more. Only then did Ramona see the number of bandages swathing his arms, and see beneath the collar of his shirt the bandage wrapped tightly across his chest. She drew in a breath in pained sympathy.

“Samuel, your wounds…”

He glanced down, and the corner of his lip curved up slightly in amusement at the number of bandages wrapping his body. “It does seem a bit drastic, doesn’t it?”

“And you say it wasn’t a big deal—!”

“Redhawk, if it weren’t for you, I’d most certainly be dead by now. If I may remind you, you saved me from the witch, remember?”

She flushed. “Well… yes, I suppose so.”

“There, you see? Not a big deal. It’s a big deal if I die, alright? Or if I fail to succeed in my goal. It’s not a big deal to me if I lose some blood or I’m a bit sore for a while. I’ll be on my feet in no time.”

She smiled at his words. They didn’t seem careless or blasé so much as focused; focused on the two main things he needed to continue. And that, according to him, was success, and just one breath left in his body.

He spoke again. “By the way, Redhawk, I remembered, I know someone who might be able to give you answers about whatever that magical business was with the witch.”

Her ears perked up in interest. “You know someone that has to do with this? Really?”

Samuel nodded. “Yes, I do, and he knows a lot — and I mean a lot — about magic. If you’re that curious, I can tell you where to find him.”

Her eyes quickened with gold, intrigued. “Really? Who is this friend, that knows so much about magic?”

He smiled slightly. “If you go see him, you’ll find out quick enough I suppose.”

Ramona nodded. “I want to know about what happened, but I don’t know how I’d get there.” She laid back on her cot slowly, one arm flung wearily across her forehead. “I have no money, no connections, I don’t own any mode of transportation except my own two feet; I couldn’t even get there if I knew where to go.” She sighed. “I suppose… I’m just stuck here… in this grey, horrible little town… just like before.” Samuel waited silently, watching the red streak in her hair mute to a dull, dead-rose sort of color and her eyes turn to a drab, hopeless grey. Her arm flopped to her stomach. “I want to go somewhere, though. I just can’t be stuck in this dead town anymore.”

“I hesitate to offer it,” Samuel said slowly, “but the crew’s really taken a liking to you, despite not meeting you  — especially little Jiminy — ” he added, smiling to himself, “ — and I don’t think they’d mind having you come with us for a while, at least till you find someplace you like.”

Ramona looked at him. Not hopeful, not judgmental, not thoughtful; she just looked at him. Her eyes flickered faintly with gold, lacing thin streaks of sparkling amber veins through the grey storm-clouds and breaking them apart.  “I might,” she said softly. “Give me a while to think about it. I want to meet the crew before I decide if I want to spend a few months with them.” 

Samuel sat up carefully and swung his legs slowly out of his cot. “If you’re feeling well enough, I’d be glad to introduce you now, Redhawk.” He took a moment to pull his black leather boots on, but Ramona didn’t move. He stood up and stretched. “Criminy, it feels good to move,” he said. He looked down at where Ramona still lay on her cot. “Since you haven’t moved at all, I’ll assume you’re still too tired. Take your time, we want you going full-speed by the time we let you off, whenever that is.” He turned stiffly toward the door, removing the dark blue vest from the back of a chair beside the desk that stood at the foot of his bed.

“Thank you, Captain,” Ramona said, “But I — I really don’t know that I’m that far recovered, just yet. I think another day should do it, maybe two.” She gave a gentle smile. “I had very little time to recover for any wound I ever received, and I think now my body’s taking as much as it can before something else happens. Thank you for your hospitality.”

He finished donning the vest, wriggling one last silver button into place. As he straightened it he turned and looked back at her, placing one hand on the doorknob, and after a moment he inclined his head in a slight bow. “Of course, Redhawk; take all the time you need. The ship won’t be moving till you’re good and ready.” With that he turned and was gone.