VICIOUS (II) : peter pan ouat

How to Forget

When I wake up, I check the med tent. Jared is still asleep inside, sitting still and calm. How unfortunate he must suffer when Pan can heal him.

I rest my hand on his; it's so cold. Or maybe mine are so warm, and I just can't tell. I think about his girl. Her name was Katherine, and she had beautiful dark eyes. She was with child, and she was attacked because it was Jared's child. Maybe Jared is a father. Could he even be considered a father, whether or not his child lived? He wasn't there to raise it.

It's not fair he gets no memories. Nowhere near fair.

I don't think of my father as a father. Sure, he is my father, but I never knew the man. I never even saw a photo of the man. I pull out the pocket watch from my pocket, flipping it back and forth in my hand. Why did I think of it when I thought of him?

Maybe it's because my mother gave it to me. At least, I imagine she did.

She once gave me a sketch of my father, though how reliable it is I wouldn't know. I can't manage to think of what it looks like. I would have thought I had it committed to memory.

Jared stirs, sitting up. He looks at me, puzzled. He's awake.

"Your name is Charlie." He offers, confused.

"Good to see you too Jared." I smile.

"No, you don't understand." He stands up before turning to look at me. "You never told me your name. No one did. I don't know how I know you."

I'm not all that sure how I know him either. His name, Jared, is on my tongue but I'm not all that sure how it got there.

"You attacked a tiger." He tells me. "That's how I met you."

I chuckle. That sounds like something I'd do. I'm known for rushing into things before I'm ready. Tigers are just overgrown calico cats. A little more violent, but all the same. Though I don't remember attacking the tiger.

"I found out you were a girl." He continues, his eyes widening at the thought. "I was treating you medically, but that doesn't make sense, I'm not a doctor."

"Aren't you?" I ask.

When I think of the word Jared, I think of the word doctor. They seem to fit together very well. When I think of Jared, I think of the ginger in front of me. I wonder if that's his name.

"You're Jared right?" I ask him.

He looks at me, before grabbing hold of me and sitting me down against the cot.

He must be a doctor, why else would he be so concerned with me? Doctors always take things over the top. Checking for concussions, for fevers, and bruises. It's all a little extra if you ask me. As long as I can move, I'm fine.

He puts his hand on my forehead, before putting fingers against my wrist. "Your heartbeat is fast, and you're burning up."

I shrug. "Probably, but I'm pretty immune to illnesses."

"I checked you for a concussion before." He looks puzzled as if this is new information. "I've checked you for a concussion multiple times."

I roll my eyes. "I think I'd know if I had a concussion."

"I gave you a counter-remedy for the berries," he continues, "this shouldn't be happening."

I shrug. "Maybe it's just because I'm hungry?" I offer. "If you have berries, I'd like them."

He ruffles through a wooden drawer, towards the corner of a tent. We're in a tent, I think. If not, we're surrounded by hanging fabric. I'm sitting on a mattress, with soft white sheets. I bunch them up in my hand. I'm really tired, and this would be the perfect place to sleep.