Sneak Peek Searching Pt. 5
The forest floor crunches beneath your feet as you try matching Jason’s exhausting pace. He seems to have shaken off the greater part of whatever disturbed him but you sense some of it still lingering. Not that you can glance up enough to take stock. You’re carefully analyzing each step as to not wipe out on the uneven terrain while your head pounds with each bounce.
Your foot does inevitably catch on a root and you curse as your ankle twists unnaturally. The explicit curses flying from your mouth grab Jason’s attention.
“You okay?” he asks. First words spoken between the two of you since you had left behind the Ghuls. Your mind creeps to the two of them regaining consciousness and restarting their mission to drag you and Jason back to the island. Or murder you. They weren’t very descriptive in their mission statement.
“Yeah, peachy,” you mutter. You take the opportunity to lean against a tree and grasp at your ankle. It’s slightly tender beneath your touch but luckily still mobile.
“You’re bleeding,” Jason states. You shake your head while releasing your ankle.
“No, I just twisted my-” You flinch away as his finger suddenly prods at the back of your head. Your eyes trail up his arm to his face. He stares intensely at the wound gracing the back of your head; his mouth set in a firm line and his swirling blue eyes focused. You count yourself once more grateful for being at the receiving end of his sympathy. Better than the alternative.
“Yeah, I knocked it back in the- er, fight. I’ll live. Barely feel it.” You give him a hardly convincing smile. His fingers don’t leave your hair as he completely ignores your blatant lie.
“Alright, take a seat,” Jason commands. His face has fallen into its authoritative state as he stares expectantly at you. You roll your eyes but secretly feel relieved at the chance to rest. Your head throbbing was only slightly more uncomfortable than your aching feet and exhaustion resting behind your eyes.
He pulls out the first-aid kit as you make yourself comfortable. You feel his fingers trying to push away your hair and expose the gash. The sheer difficulty around it has you reaching behind him to the bag. You pull out scissors and hold them up.
“It’s a mess to deal with. It doesn’t help with the whole concealing identity thing. And now you can’t even dress the wound. Cut it off.” You declare. Some part of you is concerned over the shoddy job it’ll probably be. But the much larger part, the part that wants to survive and has barely been doing so in a cell, wants it gone.
You don’t know if he is doubting his own abilities or your changing mind.
He lets out a heavy breath and begins cutting at the locks. As tendrils fall to the ground, you feel a sense of lightness replacing a weight you’ve carried for so long now. It wasn’t just cutting off an unnecessary weight physically but the uncleanliness associated with being cramped in inhumane conditions. Being in the cell was dehumanizing. You were treated as nothing more than an animal.
“Are you okay?” Jason’s voice falls low. Its tone suggests a different meaning than the first time he asked. You don’t even notice the few escaped tears rolling down your cheeks until he speaks up.
You swipe at them and nod your head. “Just…” You turn your head and look at him head on. His expression doesn’t move but you watch his eyes track your own thoughts. “Do you think they’ll find us? We just knocked them out…”
“Now who’s the murderous one?” He cracks. You glare at him sternly and he clears his throat. “Yeah, that one was probably inappropriate. What actually are you asking, Doll?”
Your nose scrunches up at the nickname but you choose to gloss over it for now. “I’m worried we made the wrong move, letting them live. And that thought just-”
“Scares you.” His words swim with recognition. “I know the feeling.”
You scrutinize him, wondering again about his past.
“Now turn around.” You blink at the sudden shift but he jerks his head in command. “I need to patch you up.”
You comply and turn back around, feeling a slight sting as he applies the antiseptic. He continues without comment and is soon wrapping the wound with gauze. His fingers wind so delicately in a way that seems just as comfortable as when they are wrapped around the hilt of his sword. The more you learn about Jason, the more confused you become. Everything he does seems to contradict the previous move.
“So, where’d you learn to do this? I can’t picture Raz sitting down trained killers to teach the basics in medical care.”
Silence follows your question, long enough to convince you that he doesn’t plan on answering.
“I learned from someone in my past.” He finally answers. Rather cryptically, you note.
“Do you not remember who?” You half-joke.
“No.” He replies curtly. Your mouth opens and then promptly closes again. “There, you’re all good to go. How’s the ankle?”
His figures looms over you as he offers his hand. You scrunch your nose and let him help you to your feet. Your ankle handles the pressure with little protest and the pain in your head has reduced to an ache.
“The ankle’s fine. And you, sir, are fitting a stereotype like a cast mold.” You brush off your pants and restart your hike, careful to avoid the damned root this time.
Jason snorts behind you. “And what stereotype would that be?”
Sticks break beneath his boots as he matches your stride.
You clear your throat and try your hand at imitating an action narration, “The mysterious assassin with an even more elusive, and possibly suspicious, past. Brooding and often abrasive but always a hero in the end.”
He chuckles. “You think I’m a hero?”
“You saved me didn’t you?” You reply coolly. Your ears fall flat at the expectation of another snappy retort. A glance up at him finds his eyes spaced, rather pensive. Much like you found him before sparing Jackass’ life. Just as you are about to inquire further, your foot finds a loose rock.
Jason’s hands grasp your arm, saving you from a painful fall. “Why don’t you pay attention to what you’re doing over there instead of me, Graceful.”
You want to wipe the dumb smirk right off of his face. Mostly because he’s right.
