Chapter 18: CONFRONTATIONS AND CONFESSIONS

“You’re different,” Rune said.

The interior of the Corvette is cool compared to the hot vapors of the night, which finally commands Noah’s muscles to relax. The pain behind his eyes appears again, and his hand is numb and slightly swollen. He touches his tender knuckles, they’re rosy and battered. His palm is also scraped, form when he fell to the pavement. It’s very common for newbie fighters to break bones, especially when punching with no protection. Noah presses two fingers into the ulnar border, and an intense pain shoots in all directions. He gasps, holding his hand close as if protecting it from further damage. 

It’s a boxer’s fracture. 

He clenches his teeth, waiting for the agony to slowly subside. 

He’ll have to go to the hospital, this isn’t something he can nurse with some antibiotics.

It was worth it, though. Just seeing Sam’s bloody face fills him with delight.

The refreshing cold of the car reminds him of his fatigue. His eyes get droopy with sleep, and he carefully snuggles inside his hoodie, always tending to his messed up hand. The pain is still excruciating, but it’s more of a distant thrumming if he holds it still.

It has been a long night, and he’s tired.

He wants to sleep everything off.

Darkness comes for him, like an old friend that embraces him, whispering to let go of his worries. However, for some reason, Noah doesn’t find this calmness appealing. He starts to run away, but his legs don’t work, no matter how much he wills them to move. He’s trapped, and darkness approaches with delicacy, trying to seduce him, to make him surrender.

But he doesn’t want to surrender.

He wants lo live.

Desperation explodes in every cell, tearing a terrified shout out of his burning lungs. 

He kicks, and his hands look for a hold.

He crawls, trying to get away, but darkness’ presence is undeniable. It’s hovering over his fear, waiting, because it knows it’s only a matter of time.

No.

“You’re talking to a cop. So, be careful,” the man’s voice thunders all around him, and his bones vibrate with a recognition long ago forgotten, and Noah reaches up, because he knows he’s close. But his hands close on air, and a sudden weight in his lap wakes him.

He jumps, the pain of the fracture extending past his elbow in constant waves. He hisses.

Rune is staring at the steering wheel, his knuckles are white from holding on. Noah recoils in his seat, his back to the door. He’s still halfway asleep, the darkness caress is still fresh and burning in Noah’s skin, the remnant of its cool embrace lingers in his terror. He’s gasping, the back of his eyes sending needles up his brain. 

Noah’s gaze looks for any sign of danger. 

“I want to live,” he whispers, tears prickling down his cheeks, rivers of anger and sadness, of terror and survival. “Don’t take me away,” he says to the darkness. “I don’t want to go.”

The adrenaline is gone. But the trembling persists. 

Rune’s jaw is tense. His eyes are closed.

“Explain,” he says, pointing to Noah.

At first, he doesn’t understand. But he follows the finger’s direction to his lap. And there it is. The folder. 

But it’s not triumph that he feels.

It’s shame, and guilt. And disgust.

For a moment, he considers abandoning the investigation.

Noah searches for an answer. A compromise between a hundred truths that can satisfy Rune enough. A rendition of reality which can keep both safe. He hates it so much. He swallows the lump in his throat, fixing his gaze in the sand-colored cardboard. Inside, there are answers. It’s a step forward in patching up Riley’s story.

Riley deserves as much.

He can’t back down.

He owes Riley.

Rune is quiet. And before, silence had provided Noah of a quiet comfort. The unmovable force. But now, it prickles. It reminds him of all his dirty secrets.

“I’m sorry,” he whispers.

“Don’t say it if you don’t feel it.” There isn’t anger in his voice, just a matter of fact tone. “You’re different. You’re not real.”

Noah closes his eyes, his chest hurts.

He wishes he could just say it. Two simple words. His name. But as strong as his urge is, his fear is a beast, guarding the words in a chest with a lock. 

Noah fights with the desire to be seen, to be released of secrets, but the beast battles with the promise of survival.

He doesn’t respond. 

Rune starts the engine. There are no more words to be spoken.

As they leave the parking lot of Roger’s Garage, he sees the crowd is dispersing. Eve and Duncan smile victorious, and they share a kiss. Noah smiles, but he feels sadness tinging it.

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The street lights are blurry lines that spill into the car, staining everything with blinking warmth. People gather in restaurants, and bars, and walk down the street, laughing, talking. Noah watches them through a glass that mutes everything, he’s an alien spectator watching a show in a foreign language.

The energy that carried him through the night is completely gone. Not even a drop. All that’s left is the aftermath. 

Pain—physical and emotional— dances, and Noah is starting to sway with it. 

Duncan’s warehouse shines, the metal frame glinting with the street lamps. Rune drags him out of the car, and Noah has to bite his lips to stifle a groan. His knees tremble with effort, as he tries to keep up with Rune’s fast walking. The bounce aggravates the pulsating pain, but he stays silent, holding it close to his chest. He clutches Natalie’s medical history with him.

Once inside the garage, which is just the first floor, Rune shoves Noah. His back hits the wall, and the vibration sends agonizing waves to his shoulder. The dried tears in his cheeks tense his skin. His breath catches, Rune’s body suddenly close, hovering, like a shadow. Like darkness.

“Why are you different?” He demands.

His hand loosely closes in Noah’s neck, pining him to the wall. He cages Noah with his weight. The warmth of his breath strokes his nose. 

Noah’s tired.

“I wish,” he commences, once he’s sure he’ll be able to talk without breaking, “I could say it.” His voice is barely audible, a whisper, the shadow of words. “But I can give you this much.”

He presses the folder against Rune’s chest. An offering. A truce. “I don’t know what kind of answers we’ll find. We can find out together.”

Rune looks at his own chest. Then back at Noah. He parts his lips, ready to say something. Noah waits. The weight that is holding him in place shifts slightly, releasing a little, but not so much that Noah thinks he’s safe.

He’s not safe.

It’s Noah turn to answer the riddle.

The vibration of the windows, and the engine outside alerts them of the couple’s presence, but Rune’s attention is fully on Noah. Unwavering. Threatening. 

Noah sees the danger in his piercing eyes.

He’s walked on a tight rope since he woke up, and the rope is snapping. Rune’s hand tightens around his neck, warning him. Noah’s attention snaps back to Rune, his nose brushing against his own, their breaths mixing together, sweat running down Noah’s back. 

The door opens, Eve and Duncan are laughing. Likely high on adrenaline. Their chat is cut short, and Noah sees in his peripheral vision their frozen posture. Heavy silence settles. Rune’s breath is quick and shallow. 

Finally, he releases Noah. They look at each other’s eyes, Noah in a silent surrender, and Rune in a vigilant stare. Slowly, Noah opens the file. 

“I… had a sister.” The words are mud in his mouth, unfamiliar. “I lost my memory after the attack. Everything is gone.”

He waits. Rune nods, telling him to continue. He looks at the couple, they are patiently listening.

“You were right to assume someone’s behind Sam. There is someone.” He swallows. “I’ve been trying to find out… my… last steps before… Rose has been helping me, she knows.”

“You can’t remember?” Duncan asks.

Noah shakes his head.

“Did you remember us?” Eve interjects, narrowing her eyes.

Noah shakes his head.

Guilt is bitter in his tongue.

“I figured I talked to a college professor about continuing my studies.” He takes out Riley’s diary, as if it were his own. As if this wasn’t a strangers life he had stolen. He opens spread of the last week of May. He points to the 24^th. “I met with her. She told us about my sick relative, I searched for her, and got Natalie’s medical history.” He shakes the folder. “But Silas attacked me outside of the hospital, and stole this. I figured Sam would have it in his possession.”

Rune seems to release some tension in his muscles. It encourages Noah to keep going, “Whoever is behind Sam was desperate enough to threaten me for this. So I guess whatever is in this is worth it. So much so that they would kill me to hide it. This,” he lifts the folder, “is possibly the reason why they tried to kill me.”

Eve gasps, her eyes wide, staring at the file. “Why didn’t you tell us?”

“This would put you in danger. This is my fight, I told you.”

His injured hand is in his chest, hovering. The pain pulsates through Noah’s tense jaw. He tries to hide his trembling.

Duncan steps forward, “And I told you you’re our people. Your issues are mine, also. You have helped so much in hunting down the bastard that killed Leo,” He sighs, “the least I can do is help you catch the bastard that ordered your death.”

Noah’s chest tightens, guilt spills in his bones, chilling him to his core. He winces.

“I’m sorry I didn’t tell you,” his voice is raw with emotion, with pain. 

Everyone is deep in their thoughts, likely digesting the meaning of Noah’s confession. Noah clears his throat, his eyes hurt, and his knees are wobbly, but he musters the courage.  “Do you have a first aid kit? Wait, no, it’s better if I go to the hospital.”

Rune’s gaze lowers to the hovering hand, then to his stomach. In a second, he’s mere inches away, quickly lifting Noah’s hoodie, where his bandage has turned a deep and rich brown. 

“I’ll call a taxi.” He beings saying, turning to the door.

But he’s stopped by a hand gripping his wrist.

“I’ll take you.”

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