Roenan was dreaming. In the dream, he was sitting on a blanket on the beach. Everything was bright; almost painfully so. The trees off the sand were vividly green and light of the sun played across the ocean in twinkling flashes. There was a warm breeze brushing past his face and rustling his hair. It smelt like the sea and the sand and his mother's perfume.

He heard his mother laughing and looked to see her and his father sitting on the blanket next to him. She brushed strands of her brown hair behind her ear, dimples on her cheeks and crows eyes appearing. She reached for the picnic basket that was sitting in front of her and slid in onto her lap. She placed her hand in the basket, and rummaged through it. When her hand came out, she was holding a gun and shifting to point it at Roenan's father, a shot echoing out. Roenan jumped up and began to back away. His mother tossed the gun to the side and turned toward him. She stood up and lunged at him, tackling him to the sand and throwing her hands around his throat.

Roenan's eyes shot open. He made a choked sound as he stared up into the silver eyes hovering above him. The boy from the other bed was sitting on top of him as he straddled Roenan's waist and his hands tightened around Roenan's neck. The boy's stare was blank and his nostrils were flaring. The look in his eyes almost reminded Roenan of the last time he'd seen his mother's eyes. Crazed and silver. Roenan looked down as far as he could as he attempted to pull the boys hands from this throat, but the attempt hurt his wounds and he was too weak. There was no way he would be able to fight back. 

He looked back up into the boy's dead eyes and he felt sorry for him. He thought of the end of his dream, with his mother hovering above him, in the boy's stead. Before he could realize what he was doing, Roenan slowly reached up and lightly placed his palm onto the boy's cheek. A light suddenly seemed to flickered in his eyes and he shot backward, releasing his grip on Roenan's neck. Roenan desperately sucked in a painful gasp of air and began coughing, and crying out as his wounds seared.

The boy was sitting back on his hands and breathing unevenly. He shook his head rapidly and blinked his eyes as if trying to toss his thoughts away. He sat up, still straddling Roenan's waist. He began to shake his head more, bringing his hands up to hit at his own temples with frustrated yells.

"Stop it!" Roenan gasped, still breathless and hoarse. He shot a panicked stare toward the door. "You're going to make them come back in here!" He reached out and grabbed at the boy's forearms to contain him from hitting himself, but the boy pulled out of his grip with quick, practiced movements and hit one of Roenan's arm's in a way that made it go completely numb.

"Ow!" Roenan gasped as stared at the boy in bewilderment.

"Don't fucking touch me!" The boy yelled down at him. It sounded distant, but Roenan knew he was close. Too close. He could still feel his heavy weight on top of him.

Roenan turned back to face the boy, a look of distaste on his face, "You just had your hands around my throat, don't fucking touch me!"

The boy stared at him blankly, his expression morphing into confusion. "Huh?"

"Get off of me!" Roenan whispered harshly, jerking his body as if to toss the boy from him. He gasped as the movement seared more pain through him. He laid his hands down on top of his wounds as if it would help contain the pain. The boy winced as swung one of his legs over Roenan's body and brought it down so he was kneeling to the left side of Roenan on the bed.

"What's wrong with you?" The boy mumbled.

"What's wrong with me? What's wrong with you?" Roenan asked in exasperation, while gently shaking out his arm in a way to relieve the tingly discomfort that set in as the feeling returned.

"No. I mean, what's wrong with you?" The boy drawled, pointing toward Roenan's hand.

Roenan looked down at his other hand laid over his ribs. He thought about his mother shooting him, the sound of the two shots still fresh in his mind. Just like the one in his dream.

"I... broke them." He answered.

The boy stared at him as if waiting to hear more. Roenan stared right back until the boy abruptly looked toward the door when he realized Roenan wasn't going to explain.

"What about you? Are these just from the restraints on that bed?" Roenan asked as he went to touch the large bruises surrounding the boy's wrists.

The boy pulled his arms back harshly. One of his hands had dried blood on a swollen lump where he'd ripped his IV out. 

"I said don't touch me! What do you not get about that?!" He hissed before looking back toward the door.

Roenan stared at him for a long moment and then sighed, "You're Jaedan. I'm from Jaeda too. Let's not do this right now." Roenan took a deep breath. "What's your name?"

"Saive."

"Saive," He said, testing the name. "I'm Roenan."

The boy still hadn't moved and he was still staring toward the door with a determined expression on his face. He was a good-looking Jaedan kid. His skin was a dark olive-tone and he had black, ruffled hair accompanied by silver eyes. He had an incredible build to him that was fitting to his swift movements. Everything about his movements was practiced, which Roenan found off since he must have only been in his late teens.

He followed Saive's stare toward the door and then looked back at his face.

"What...? You actually think you're going to escape from here?" Roenan asked, a hint of annoyance in his tone. "We're dead men. We were from the moment they took us. You know that, right?"

Saive looked back at Roenan with little expression. "The only dead man here will be you. And him."

Before Roenan could even question his comment, Saive slid swiftly off the side of the bed. He bent down and grabbed one of the long strips of cloth which had secured him to the bed at one time. He looked down at the cloth, his expression growing dangerous as he squeezed it into his palm that then gave out another pent up yell that shook his entire body. He violently pulled the sheets off of the bed, tossing them to the side before ripping the mattress up off of its frame and tossing it into the wall. He then grabbed the IV stand and sent it scattering across the floor to the foot of the bed on the other side with another yell. The bags that had been attached to the stand popped open, spraying fluids across the floor and onto the wall and beds.

Roenan stared in silent horror.

Saive grabbed the strip of cloth he dropped in his rage and turned around sharply walking toward the door in what was an oddly patient stroll, considering how he had just violently upended his corner. Once he tested the handle and realized it was locked, he turned and pressed his back against the wall to the side of the door by the hinges. The ends of the long cloth were twisted around his hands. He tugged outwards a couple of times to check the elasticity of the fabric before he leaned his head back against the wall and closed his eyes. It was hard to tell from across the room, but Roenan would have sworn that Saive's mouth was moving. Maybe he was trying to calm himself or perhaps he was muttering a prayer.

"What the fuck..." Roenan whispered to no one in particular. He wiped the wide-eyed gape of horror from his face when he realized he was making it, rolling over onto his side with his back to the boy. He didn't think he'd like to watch Saive's breakdown any longer.

It felt like twenty minutes or so had passed before the handle to the door twisted. Roenan was half asleep when he heard it but his eyes shot open and he quickly turned his head to glance over his shoulder. Saive still had his eyes closed and the back of his head pressed to the wall.

The door opened with a small creak. Another man in scrubs started to walk through the door. He was instantly bombarded by Saive, who jumped onto the medic's back to wrap the cloth around the man's throat. The medic fell onto his knees, startled and unprepared. Roenan jumped back, in his own bed and with a gasp leaving his mouth agape, as Saive crossed his arms into an x-shape behind the man' the cloth was wound tight around his throat. The medic's fingers helplessly grasped at the cloth at his neck. Roenan stared in stunned silence, not sure how to react. His body remained frozen.  

After a minute or so, the medic finally dropped his hands and slouched forward to the floor. Saive pressed one knee onto the man's back, tightening his grip even more. It felt like a lifetime before he finally let the cloth drop from his hands. When he did, he instantly stood up and turned in one smooth motion and walked straight out of the door without another word.