The Language I Spoke Yesterday

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My eyes were heavy, vision blurry. My body as weak. I could barely stand in front of the mirror. My shoulders heaved with the effort to take in oxygen. I felt too cold and too hot and hungry and sick and tired.

It had only been four days since Yannick poisoned me. How was I so weak?

Or was I just being dramatic?

But I was losing color still. A patch of hair on the left side of my head seemed to have lost all pigment in the time it took me to walk from the office to my room. Rude. Shaking fingers created a hasty braid and nervously frayed it. The effect was a sloppy dutch look which strategically hid all traces of the strange white patch.

I wondered absently why I even bothered to hide it at all. Shouldn't I be telling someone?

Still, I pulled out my stolen and quickly diminishing supply of concealer. It was a bit harder to apply today than in the past, and I had to choose between perfect coverage and covering everything.

Law would probably expect me to be a bit pale still after our 'conversation' anyway...

I shook out the pain and put on my game face. I hid trembling hands in the pocket of my grey hoodie, and determined to field any pointed questions with 'I probably need a nap'. I made it to the cafeteria without incident, though if I moved too fast the world started spinning.

The room was crowded and loud. I could feel my anxiety rising even though my posture was relaxed. Voices seemed blurry. I answered greetings with as few words as possible, attempting to tailor each response to the person. I tried to laugh as Shachi demonstrated how hard it was to hold a knife when he had candles for hands even though it made my face feel like it was cracking.

I'm so weak. Law survived for thirteen years... Mom for almost ten...

I dry swallowed and blinked my vision clear. Pasta seemed like the easiest thing to cook in a large batch, and Ikkaku had dried shells fairly recently. All I had to do was boil them and make some sauce.

The problem was, I couldn't follow the directions. The words were like little ants dancing around the page, and when they stood still, I could only recognize half of them. There were weird symbols like 's' and 'j' that I couldn't figure out what to do with.

"Что я делаю? Я не знаю..." What am I doing? I don't know...

I leaned on the counter for support and stared blankly at the page in front of me.

"Andromeda?"

It took a moment to process that someone had said my name, and even longer for me to look at them. Weis frowned at me, a troubled look on his wide face.

"You doin' okay?"

I took a slow breath and forced a smile. "I think... I need a nap. I'm really sorry, Weis, but could you...?" I gestured dismally at the kitchen.

He nodded, worry fading to warm understanding. "You and Captain better figure out how to sleep. Bet if you ate more bread..."

"Ew!" I managed a real, disgusted expression and play slapped Weis's arm as I passed him. "You're gr..."

My chest went cold.

Fingers tingling.

Head light.

The floor rushed up to meet me.

/-/-/-/

Captain Watkins Yannick gave a low, growling chuckle with a dark smirk. "You're an arrogant whelp, aren't you?" He didn't see to be affected by the fact that he was bound hand and foot to a slightly too big for comfort metal chair, or that his heart was beating in my hand. "You have no idea what your place is. Or you're just too stubborn to accept it."