Target To Save

Chapter 11 - October 30, 2031

Tears streamed down her face again and hate grew in her chest. Her hands were perfectly still. "I failed. I failed again, Jaizya. I keep failing."

"What's going on? Where are you?" Jaizya's voice shook, and they softened her tone.

The words that came out of Ivalin's mouth were jumbled together.

Patiently, Jaizya asked, "Are you alone?"

Ivalin shook her head, even though she knew that Jaizya couldn't see her. Lyia quietly sat down next to her, the bed dipped, and Ivalin leaned into her. Carefully, Lyia took the phone from her hands.

"This is Lyia. I'm a classmate of Ivalin's." Lyia quickly filled Jaizya in with what she knew, "Yes ma'am, I found her wandering on 8th street," Ivalin's panic slowly calmed down. Solemness filled her chest, and she wiped her eyes. She put herself together. Straightened her back, and stared out of the windows and at the growing smokestacks that covered the skyline.

Slowly, she took the phone back. "Agent 56." Her voice was clear, calm, and Ivalin's mind went blank. "A Bleeding Heart agent, level Elite, infiltrated that hospital. His number of victims are unknown. He murdered Dr. Ryan who came back," Ivalin's voice cracked, and she struggled not to break down as she tried to continue the report, "Came back... I'm requesting to be taken out of the job."

Breathing crackled over the phone for a second. "Ivalin, I need you to do me a favour, okay? I'm with the Director right now. We're in Terrietin, and that's ten hours away, okay? I need you to wait for me. I'm leaving right now. Can you do that?" Jaizya was out of breath, but their tone was so soft and kind, and it hurt.

"Yeah. I can do that." Ivalin's voice cracked, and the world blurred for a second.

"I'm rushing out of here, but I need you to know that you didn't fail." Doors slammed open, and Jaizya's voice barely came over the phone. "We're going to be okay, okay?"

"Yes ma'am." Ivalin's tone was stilted, robotical. Jaizya cursed.

"Hang in there. I'm coming. I have to go." The phone hung up, and Ivalin sat there for a second listening to the end dial tone. Tentatively she put the phone down, and looked at Lyia. Ivalin couldn't reach her eyes.

Lyia tenderly reached out to Ivalin. "So you're a part of the Sisterhood?"

Ivalin recoiled from her touch. She looked down, and hugged her chest. "I'm sorry."

"What for?" Lyia stood up, and crossed to a dresser, rummaging through it.

"I understand if you don't want me here now that you know." Ivalin tensed, closing her eyes, her mother's warnings in her mind, the government papers with red warnings stamped on them, her name in black. The dead body of a woman who only wanted to heal.

A pair of sweatpants hit Ivalin in the chest. She opened one eye. "Don't be silly." Lyia threw a sweatshirt and Ivalin watched it fall next to her. Her arms felt too heavy to move. "I think that laws that bar assassins' to vote and get normal houses are barbaric. They serve our country, and they should get some respect for that." Her voice got high and mighty, and it seemed like a phrase she repeated over and over again because no one listened and she didn't care.

"It's only for the dangerous ones." Ivalin's voice was soft and low, but Lyia scoffed.

She paused her search and raised an eyebrow. "The ones with Mercies, you mean?"

"They betrayed their country." It came out harsher than Ivalin wanted it to, but Lyia only rolled her eyes and went back to searching.

"Most of the time not by choice. Now, let's have you take a shower put those on. It'll be warmer than what you're wearing. Do you need a bra?"

Ivalin slowly nodded her head, and Lyia grinned. She quickly grabbed one and showed Ivalin to a large bathroom that had black tile and a glass curtain.

"Need anything? Shout. I'll be finishing up my painting." She smiled and let Ivalin go.

The tile was cold against Ivalin's feet, but she quickly stripped and made her way into the shower. The water warmed up slowly, and she melted in its heat. Blood and sweat slowly peeled off of her. Red sank down the drain, and Ivalin quickly washed her hair. Stepping out of the shower, she breathed, letting the cool air restart her brain. Her brain was still fuzzy, and every movement seemed without purpose, but she mechanically got dressed and paused. The sweatpants and sweatshirts were soft against her skin, and her chest made a shuddering sound. She took a deep breath and walked out of the room.

Lyia was standing before the windows, paint covering her hands and the easel that stood before her. Ivalin cleared her throat, and Lyia snapped around. "Boo," She tucked a paintbrush behind ear, "you clean up nice." She winked, and Ivalin's face burned. "Are there any immediate injuries that I need to tend to? Not that I would know how, but I'm sure between the two of us we could figure it out."

Ivalin looked down at her feet and then back up and shook her head. It had been a couple hours, there would be no trace of her ripped up feet or bruised torso.

Lyia sighed in relief. "Good because I'm an artist and a politician not a doctor." There was a pause, and she nodded. "So, do you need sleep?" Ivalin shook her head, and silence hit again. "How about we go to the diner?"

Ivalin couldn't stop the smile that grew, and Lyia nodded and blew out air. "It's only three in the morning, Mr. Ivory is going to kill me." She paused and bit her lip, "Let's get you some shoes."