by Ashley West
"Sore, are you?" she asked, coming around to the front of the couch. There was a smile on her lined face, and a light dancing in her eyes.
He'd only met her once so far, and at the time she hadn't seemed all that inclined to talk to him. But now she was studying him with open curiosity, clearly over whatever reluctance she'd had before.
"Yes," he admitted, wincing and rubbing at his neck. "This couch is comfortable, but not a good place to sleep."
"You're right about that," she said. "Is there something wrong with your bed?"
Samel hesitated, not sure why he was on the receiving end of this line of questioning. "It's...very small," he said finally.
She looked at him for a moment more and then laughed brightly. "Well, that makes sense. You're a big boy. Never seen anyone your size in all my time."
"I'm sorry," Samel said, unsure of what else to say to her.
"Don't be sorry," Samantha said, shaking her head. "It's just who you are. Nothing wrong with that." She smiled at him and then wandered away, feeling confused.
"She's like that."
Immediately his eyes snapped to Camille who was curled up in one of the arm chairs off to the side. "You're very quiet," he said to her.
"I know. Most people don't notice when I'm around, but you always find me."
"Only after you say something," he said, and she smiled at him slowly.
"I like you," Camille said decisively. "I think you should stay."
Oddly, he was touched by that, and he found a smile for her. "If I can't remember where I belong, then I might. I wouldn't have another choice."
"You should stay because you want to," Camille said, giving him a stern look that was almost comical on her young face.
Samel blinked, unsure of what to do with that. "Alright," he said.
She nodded and then made a face. "I have to go to school."
"Have fun," Samel said weakly.
Her facial expression seemed to indicate that she would not be having fun at all, and she slid off the chair and made her way into the kitchen.
All of the people who lived in this house were so strange. They all had their own stories and their own pain, and yet they overlapped in a way that seemed to fit perfectly. They were a family, of sorts, and it was clear that they all cared about each other, despite their sniping.
Even now he could hear Matthew and Priscilla fussing at each other in the kitchen. Something about coffee, for all he could tell. It was messy and chaotic, and it made him ache inside for something he couldn't even remember.
"Are you alright?"
Samel jumped this time, and flushed with embarrassment as he looked up to see Naomi standing there in the doorway. "I'm fine," he said.
"When I said you should go to bed, I meant your actual bed, not the couch," she pointed out.
He wondered if he should say something about how small his bed was compared to his size and then decided against it. She had already given him so much, and it would be beyond rude to complain about it.
"I know," he said. "I didn't make it."
"Clearly. You're going to be sore all day."
"I already am."
Naomi shook her head and smiled. "Well, if you don't have anything else to do, do you want to come out with me? Apparently we need more coffee."
Samel blinked, taken aback. "I...shouldn't." It was all well and good to be around these people who he was just starting to feel comfortable around, but other people were a different story. There would be so many of them, and they would be loud and he didn't know if he could control the fire, and...
"Alright," Naomi was saying, shrugging a shoulder. "That's fine. Will you be alright here by yourself?"
He nodded. "I'll probably sleep."
"Sounds like a plan. See you later, then."
He watched her disappear up the stairs and sighed once more. If it came down to it, and he didn't have another choice or anywhere else to go...then yes. It would be nice to stay. To belong here. To allow himself to get swept up in the chaotic nature of this house and the people who lived in it.
And...to stay with her. He thought he could easily be happy like that.
Chapter Six: Flame
As one of the most important factions on the planet, the fire warriors had their own sectioned off part of the city where they trained and lived.
It was divided into complexes, places for training and working and the administrative things that went on, and further up the hill from that were the residences where the warriors lived if they so chose. Most of them did, though a few wanted to live with their families in the city proper.
It was pretty much always a hub of activity, with patrols and training happening at almost all hours of the day.
Ever since Captain Samel had disappeared, the activity had been higher than usual.
It had been several days since the Captain's shuttle had gone down, and the seven Generals had called a meeting to discuss what their next step was going to be. So far they had done a good job of not letting it get out that the Captain was missing. No one wanted a panic on their hands.
Well.
More of a panic. With the Hillsiders showing up in more and more places and causing chaos, people were already worried enough. So something clearly had to be done.
General Farleen was the last to arrive to the meeting chamber, and she let the door slide closed behind her before she moved to take her seat. The other six Generals were already seated around the table, and there were small holo disks on the table already.
The planet was divided into four quadrants, and each quad had its own warrior band, which was governed by seven Generals. So there were twenty eight Generals in all, and every last one of them had been called to this meeting. As soon as Farleen took her seat, the holo disks flared to life, showing each General that was elsewhere.
"Thank you for coming," Holin said, taking charge as he was wont to do. "As you know, we have had an...incident that we believe needs to be addressed sooner rather than later."
"You've lost one of your Captains," said one of the Generals via hologram. It was hard to tell which one, but he had a severe looking face.
"We did not lose him," Farleen said, speaking up, clearly annoyed that someone outside of the seven of them had heard that news. So much for keeping it quiet. "We believe that foul play was involved."
"Foul play?" said another of the long distance Generals. "Who would do such a thing?"
"Have you heard of the disturbances lately?" Dala asked, tipping his head to one side. "There are Hillsiders everywhere."
"You think a Hillsider took your Captain?"
"No, but we think they're involved."
"What exactly happened?"
"Yes, that's a good question. You're so secretive there in the capital," said one of the Generals, and no one could miss the bitterness in her tone. "We don't know what you're claiming happened."
"Are you implying—” Holin started, angry. But Dala put a hand on his arm and shook his head.
Dala was one of the more reasonable of the seven of them. Before this, Farleen would have called him soft, but she would admit now that it was diplomacy that kept him from letting Holin lash out. Fighting amongst themselves would solve nothing.
"Farleen," he said. "You were the last to speak with Captain Samel. Would you explain what happened, please?"
Any other time, she would have pointed out that it was Holin who sent Samel on the mission in the first place, but this was neither the time nor the place for dissent in their ranks. So she inclined her head, waiting until everyone was looking at her to speak.
"Captain Samel was sent on a simple information gathering mission. He was to circle our planet and see if there was anyone or anything out there that shouldn't have been. We had reason to believe that we were being watched, and so we wanted to know by whom."
The others were nodding, so at least they could see the wisdom in that.
"After spending time in our orbit, the Captain had nothing to report, so he was
instructed to return here. He never made it back. The last known location of his shuttle was at the refueling station, designation 6149-beta-7. Then there was some manner of explosion, and his shuttle was sent flying away from the station and into space. We sent search droids out to look for any sign of him, but other than some debris, there was nothing to be found. Our working theory is that he managed to get himself sucked into a warp star and ended up elsewhere." Which was a terrible theory, however likely it was that it was the right one. It meant that they wouldn't find him.
Warp stars had been mapped to a certain extent, but it was impossible to locate which one he'd gone through and where he'd come out. Sometimes they managed to take you to a place you didn't want to go, and while they could cut travel times down to a tenth of their time, they weren't as reliable as warp paths which always went in straight, even lines.
If the Captain was alive, then he would try to come back home, they were sure of that, but if he wasn't...
Well. There was no use dwelling on that.
"Grave news," one of the Generals was saying, and Farleen thought she recognized him as General Nundus.
"Yes," she agreed.
"There is one more thing," Holin said, and Farleen shot him a look. "Samel wanted to scout further out. He thought that we had a better chance of finding something if he used his scanner where our tech couldn't interfere with it."
"Do you believe he faked this incident so he could look?" asked Nundus.
"No," Holin said firmly. "I don't. But it is likely that Samel was only at the refueling station so that he could use the shuttle scanner away from our planet."
Farleen shook her head. Holin was far too lenient when it came to things like this. She had told the Captain to report back, and what had he done? Gone and got himself blown up and sent to who knew where.
"Do you believe that he is working with the Hillsiders?" someone else asked, and Farleen's eyes snapped to the hologram in question.
"We do not," she said sharply. "And he would not."
"With all due respect," he said, and his voice made it seem like there wasn't all that much due. "How do you know?"
"Because Captain Samel is one of the most loyal and trustworthy warriors we have," Holin put in. "He works harder than anyone else, and his love for his people and this planet is obvious to anyone who has met him. He takes this seriously, and would never betray us."
The General who had brought it up looked unconvinced, but he didn't say anything more.
"This is getting us nowhere," Dala said. "Throwing around accusations will not help. The Hillsiders are a problem and a growing threat, and no matter where the Captain is, alive or dead, we have a problem we need to face now."
Everyone else murmured their agreement. "We believe they are working with someone else who is in charge," Holin said. "Hillsiders aren't smart enough to mobilize like this on their own."
More agreement at that. "So then we need to figure out who is holding their tethers."
"And why," someone else pointed out. "We know they broke into the library of the Elders, but for what purpose. We are a prosperous planet, but we have no great treasures. There are many other places that they could strike if that was what they were looking for."
"And it seems like they're only targeting us."
"Actually, that isn't true," spoke up someone else. One of the younger Generals that Farleen hadn't met in person yet.
"What do you mean?" she asked.
"We intercepted a transmission from Earth. Hillsiders have been spotted there."
"On Earth?" Holin asked, incredulous. "Whatever for? What do they have on Earth that could warrant going all the way out there?"
The General shook her head. "I am not sure. And it doesn't seem to be a large force. More of a scouting party, perhaps."
"But scouting for what?" Dala wanted to know. "This just gets more and more tangled."
Everyone fell silent for a moment, lost in their own thoughts. They had all faced threats on both small and large scales, and they had lived to talk about them. Each group of seven Generals was in command of a large group of warriors, and they each knew that their band would stand firm and fight whatever came at them. But this was turning into a twisted maze of a thing, and that never boded well.
Chapter Seven: Conflagration
One week turned into two and then that turned into three, and their Saturday morning breakfast tradition lived on. Every Saturday, when the house was quiet, they would both find their way into the kitchen. For a while, neither of them would speak. Naomi would make tea and Samel would fish juice out of the fridge, and they'd let themselves wake up at their own pace.
Eventually, Naomi would ask what he wanted for breakfast, just to see the look of bewilderment on his face as he tried to think of something he wanted to eat.
It wasn't necessarily nice of her, but it made them both laugh, so she considered it an okay thing to do. And besides, she'd relent before long and make waffles or french toast, or grits with bacon, and Samel would smile at her like she was the sun, and all was clearly forgiven.
That was another thing that she found herself looking forward to. When it was just the two of them, Samel had this way of looking at her that made her insides warm all the way through. He would meet her eyes and hold her gaze, and then smile so slowly and genuinely that it made him look like a large puppy instead of a brick wall of a man. It made his eyes crinkle up at the corners, and they got so bright and warm as they looked at her. She always ended up blushing and then ducking her head and looking away.
Honestly, it was getting ridiculous. She was a grown woman. Beyond that, she had never been the type to go to pieces for an attractive man. All manner of quick smiling, charming men had tried to woo her in various shelters and under bridges, and she'd always been proud of how she never went with anyone she didn't want to go with. It was always her choice. Always something she pursued, rather than something that was pushed on her.
The thing about Samel, though, was that he was beginning to feel almost inevitable.
Naomi caught him looking at her all the time. Deep, searching looks, which were oddly perceptive for a man who didn't even remember who he was. When she said something funny or Finn was teasing her, he would laugh softly. Samel seemed so surprisingly gentle for someone of his size. And for someone she had seen shooting fire out of his hands.
She knew Raven and Priscilla thought he was dreamy, and Samel was perfectly polite to them. He was polite to everyone in the house, though he seemed to spend the most time with her and with Samantha, for whatever reason.
But she'd never caught him looking at Samantha the way he looked at her, and that made her happy and perplexed all at once. Because she'd seen this before, and if it was the same thing as the little crushes people sometimes got on those who had helped them out of a tight spot, then she was going to be pissed off.
It was a common thing, she'd learned. Some kind of strange backwards savior complex, where someone who had given you a place to live and food to eat and warm and dry clothes was your new favorite person and it was easy to fancy yourself infatuated with them.
It was probably worse with Samel because even if he wasn't suffering from that where she was concerned, it wasn't like he remembered anything from his life. Maybe he had a girlfriend or a wife. A boyfriend, even. Maybe he had kids and a job and a whole family life that he couldn't remember.
So no matter how much he sparked heat in her when he was doing pushups and sit ups and crunches half naked in some part of the house, and no matter how his smiles made her want to melt into him, she had to ignore it. Because she'd made a promise to help him, and that was the right thing to do.
Sometimes she hated doing the right thing.
Things had been so much less complicated when he was homeless.
Something that had surprised Naomi during her first couple of years running this house was that even people like this, people who were vulnerable and hurting, had places to go on holidays.
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Samantha's granddaughter turned up every year without fail and helped her down the attic stairs and into her bright red SUV so they could go to her niece's house for Thanksgiving and Christmas. Matthew and Raven disappeared together every year because they were both from small towns that were close to each other, and they took turns giving each other rides out to see their extended families. Priscilla didn't have any family, but she saved up during the year so she could travel a little and stay in a nice hotel over Thanksgiving or Christmas, so Naomi always dropped her off at the train station the night before. Finn had a twin sister who apparently did an amazing holiday spread, and he went to see her every year, and this year, he'd invited Camille to go with him.
"No offense," he'd said, when he'd asked Naomi if that was okay. "You know I'd invite you, too, if I thought you'd come. I figured Cam would say yes and that it'd be better for her to be around a family than to hide in her room here."
Naomi rolled her eyes, and wasn't hurt at all. Not because Finn didn't invite her, after all. Not even because Cam had chosen to go with him instead of staying at the house. Finn was right. It would be better for her to get out and see people. And he'd invited her his first two years in the house, and both times Naomi had turned him down.
"Don't worry about it," she'd replied, waving his words away. "I like it when the house is quiet. I'll have something to eat on Thanksgiving, and then get some stuff done."
Finn had rolled his eyes right back and then dipped down to kiss the top of her head. "Don't work too hard," he'd said and then he and Cam had gone.
It happened every year, and Naomi was used to it. Although this year, she supposed she wasn't actually alone.
Samel was still in the house. He'd given her a blank look when she'd asked him if he had any recollection of what he usually did for Thanksgiving, and so she was going to add the holiday to the ever growing list of things it seemed like Samel had never heard of before.
Once the house was empty, she went into the kitchen to make tea. Everyone always left on Wednesday, and with the exception of Priscilla, who she was picking up at the train station on Friday evening, everyone would be back on Saturday night or Sunday morning.