On a String

Chapter 12

"Kai," Cole called from the doorway, his soft tone (breathe once more) cutting through the silence delicately. Delicately like small sharp silver knives sliding through-"Let's go to the lounge,"

Kai, weighed down with silence, slowly turned to study him briefly, before turning away; uninterested. Why would I want to go with you?

"We need to talk," Cole explained, eyes searching Kai's face. He was closed off; as if the sudden appearance of The Puppeteers had brought him back to the same dark (black) place Cole had found him.

Black like night.

Black like coal.

Ashes.

...Ashes to ashes (dust to dust)....

The remains of a fire.

A broken fire.

(... the breaking of flames, the darkness of drowning...)

Black.

No more red, for the fire was dead and the warming glow of firelight had faded long ago, leaving nothing but black coals.

(But the color red was still there, wasn't it?

Crimson red like blood. Hazy red like agony...)

Black was the color of the aftermath of burning. Of death. Red was blood; fire. As one came in, the other replaced it.

...The agony remains.

Sensing that Cole and Kai needed to be alone to work through this, everyone else quietly left the dining room and, thoughtfully, Zane and Sensei Wu took the dead body with them.

"He deserved his death," Kai turned back to look at Cole. The silence softened with every spoken word; black fading to dark grey. Like coals to ashes. "We don't need to talk about anything," his tone was cold; his eyes colder. (Like glowing embers turning to cold ash as the fire died).

"What are you worried about?" Cole asked, keeping his voice soft. He'd nearly gotten Kai back from the edge before and, despite all this, was determined to do the same again. Every time Kai displayed a cold front, there was always another emotion lurking under the surface. Some people shielded their fear with anger, but Kai usually disguised his by appearing empty.

Brown eyes looked at him distrustfully. "I am not worried,"

"You know you can trust me," Cole nodded. "Would you like to join me in the lounge?" he repeated the offer, keeping his voice light and kind, like feathers floating on a warm breeze. They needed to talk.

Kai frowned slightly.

Support, comfort, holding.

He trusted Cole...

But he felt so weak having to rely on another person!

And so... so... sick.

He'd killed-

He'd disobeyed Cole-

"C'mon," Cole rested a hand lightly on Kai's shoulder. "Come with me,"

"I don't want to talk," Kai objected.

Cole raised one eyebrow, intelligent eyes searching Kai's face, noting the drawn, almost haggard look it had. "What are you worried about?" he asked again. There had to be a reason Kai was acting like this.

"Nothing!" Kai protested, feeling weak. (Killer killer killer)

He'd disobeyed Cole.

("We don't kill our prisoners,")