Altered

Forty-Nine: Some Life

Charlotte's mind went blank as she stood in the doorway. She had had things to say to him but now... now they had just vanished from her thoughts. She could feel her cheeks reddening, as she remembered how she had acted. She was happy that she had won. She felt elated at their triumph, but somehow she felt guilty for how she had acted with James. He was sitting on the cold, steel, table, his elbows resting on his knees, his head in his hands and his eyes on the floor. He hadn't seen her yet. Charlotte realised she could leave and delay this confrontation, though she expected the longer she left it the worse it would become.

From the way he was slumped over she knew he hadn't been conscious for long. She knew only too well the drowsiness and headache that lingered well after the sedation had worn off. The first time she had woken after been shot she had vomited on the floor, unceremoniously. "Reaction to the drug," a Forgotten mumbled sulkily as she had begun to mop up Charlotte's sick, which had been mostly water. "You aren't the first and you certainly won't be the last". Her tone had been annoyed and weary. Charlotte had mumbled an embarrassed apology. She wondered if James had been sick the first time he had been shot, though she doubted it.

Charlotte cleared her throat, dropping her hands by her side to stop herself from wringing them anxiously. Her insides were churning violently, her skin clammy. Frowning she tried to calm her nerves. She had taken to the pitch effortlessly, excitement coursing through her veins as she fought before the entire island population and the patrons, while now speaking to James alone made her feel weak and nauseous. James looked up at her, his skin slightly grey. His green eyes were tight, full of suspicion and anger, as she had expected. He had witnessed projection after projection, his mind being forced to fight to recognise what was real and what was not. He would doubt her now, doubt her motives. He pressed his lips together in annoyance at the sight of her, and then his expression softened slightly, his eyes glazing, before he became stern once more.

"Hey," Charlotte said slowly, tentatively taking a few steps into the room. "How are you doing?" He looked at her warily, before sliding off the table and standing. He tensed slightly, trying to hide the slight unsteadiness in his stance, fighting off a wave of dizziness.

"As you would expect. My pride feels worse than I do," he mumbled, running a hand through his blonde hair, looking anywhere but at her. Charlotte gritted her teeth trying to supress the blush she could feel creeping up her neck. She clicked her tongue trying to figure out what to say, what she needed to do to break the awkwardness.

"You're just going to have to learn to shoot me," Charlotte grinned, but quickly realised he wasn't quite ready to joke about it. "That's the third time," she mumbled, bashful. "You need to take the shot or..."

"I know I will look weak," he grunted, unhappily. "Keep singing the same song - I get it Charlotte". His tone was bitter, his pride sore and wounded. She watched him, too triumphant to allow him sour her victory, but that didn't stop the heavy weight of guilt forming in her gut. He strolled grumpily passed her and out the door towards the stairs, deliberately not looking at her. Pausing uneasily, she wondered if she should follow him, or wait and try to talk to him later, but she knew that time would only unsteady her nerve. She followed him, keeping a slight distance between them. He headed straight for the exit, and out in to the cool air. The crowd had already left the stadium, only a few stragglers remaining, laughing and joking amongst the trees. The excitement had still not abated and there would be a feast in the food hall on their return. Charlotte had already sent the rest of her elated team on their way, but she had waited, waited for James to ignore her.

Despite everything, his mood, though expected, wasn't helping her conviction in acting how she had during the game. Perhaps, she began to doubt, she had been wrong, made everything too complicated. Perhaps he didn't really see her like that. She frowned, biting her lip. No - she was certain of how he viewed her. She had known for a while, known he had wanted to say something, but she had kept putting it off. She had known since he had told her of their lost past. She knew him, knew him better than she should have since they had become head students.