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The voices wouldn’t shut up about how much danger she was in, or how she had to fight back. It wasn’t as if she was unaware that she was in danger. She had forgotten who she had been before, but she still remembered what they’d done to her in that lab. And it scared her to think of what they might do next.
She screamed and thrashed against the restraints. Her throat burned, and she was vaguely aware of how much sweat poured from her body, but there wasn’t much else she could do.
“Path! Eliott! Natalie! Somebody help!” She suddenly had a feeling something wasn’t right. She hadn’t known her friends when she was held in the lab. How did she know to call for them?
Whether her friends were there or not, she knew one man was. Black hair on his head and face framed cold blue eyes. He seemed curious, even fascinated with her struggles. She felt like she ought to know who he was, like they’d known each other before, but his name escaped her.
She squirmed under his cold stare. The longer she watched his detached expression, the more her terror was slowly replaced by rage, as if she were suddenly aware he was responsible for her memory loss. She shut her eyes and shrieked, “Let me go!”
She turned to her other side and whimpered.
"He’s right outside.”
Renee’s eyes snapped open. She snatched her kunai from the nightstand and threw the covers off. Bursting from the room, she shoved the man against the opposite wall with her forearm.
“Woah, woah, woah! Renee, it’s me!” Eliott struggled where she’d believed the scientist to be. Wait, Eliott?
Only a dream, Renee repeated in her head to herself. Only a dream. She knew it was a lie, but it helped to believe it. She let him go and lowered her knife.
“What are you doing up, Eliott?” she asked in a tired groan. “It’s. . . whatever time it is. Late. It’s late. Why are you late up?” She was aware of how ridiculous she sounded, but aside from the adrenaline rush, her brain was running too slowly to care.
“Woah, you really are sick.” Renee shot him a glare that prompted him to answer her question. “I was just going downstairs for a midnight snack—you know how hotel kitchens are the best stocked—and I, uh. . . heard you crying. Are you okay? You look terrible.”
“I’m fine,” she said shortly, turning back inside and wiping away tears she hadn’t noticed before.
“Are you sure? I could get you some—”
“Didn’t you hear me?” she snapped, turning back. “I said I’m—”
Blasey’s lack of empathy and short temper are a detriment to the department. Possibly even a danger to her fellow scientists.
Remembering the file detailing her past life, Renee suddenly fell silent, feeling sick in more ways than one. A burning feeling in her gut made her moan and clutch her stomach.
“Get to the bathroom.”
She didn’t question the voice. She stumbled over to the bathroom, flicked on the light, and vomited into the toilet.
~~~~~~~~
Eliott had known Renee was sick, but it was something else entirely to see it in person. He had always known her as that stoic, focused, no-nonsense fighter with a tragic backstory. To see her exhausted and delirious was, to say the least, unexpected.
He stepped inside and switched the lights on. Instant noodle packages littered the nightstands and the short kitchen counter. The disarrayed sheets and pillows told Eliott that Renee hadn’t slept well.
After he heard her empty her stomach, she came out of the bathroom looking like death. As if she had forgotten about his presence, Renee pulled a water bottle from the mini fridge and took short sips. She sat on the edge of the bed and continued drinking with her eyes closed. He took a seat next to her and saw how badly her hands trembled.
You are not fine, he thought. But he knew better than to voice his opinion while she was in a bad mood, even—no, especially if she was sick.
“I’m not fine,” she mumbled. Eliott was surprised she admitted her condition honestly. “And I’m sorry I yelled at you.”
“Are you okay?” If an honest self-assessment from her was unexpected, an apology was out of the question.
“I just said I wasn’t.” Her tone lacked the heated temper it was often backed by. She rubbed a hand over her face and sipped more of the chilled water. “I feel lousy.”
You look the part, too, Eliott wanted to say. But he knew it wasn’t the time for jokes. She obviously had problems beyond the physical. “Did you, uh, have a nightmare?” There was little else that would explain the state of her bed and the crying he’d heard outside her door. Renee nodded and stared blankly at the floor.
“Memories. Ones I wish I could forget.” She hugged her middle as if her stomach were still disagreeing with her. Eliott knew she didn’t like to share about her past experiences. But maybe it would help if she did.
“Do you. . . feel like talking about it?” He wasn’t used to being so serious, even with Renee. She must’ve been really out of it, because she nodded after a moment.
“I was stuck in Singh Labs. They had me again. The needles, and the— the scientists. . . and the voices. They wouldn’t stop telling me I had to get away. I was so afraid.” Her voice cracked and Eliott saw a tear slip down her face. How was he supposed to react? How does one go about comforting their feverishly-delirious and apparently-traumatized friend?
Renee put the water bottle on the floor and looked Eliott in the eye. “Eliott, could you... um... I...” She broke off the eye contact. “Never mind,” she mumbled.
“What is it? What do you need?” As much as he hated to admit it in public, Eliott missed her presence, in and out of the arena. If it would help her recovery, he would do whatever she wanted. She gave the slightest of smiles and shut her eyes.
“I’m pretty sure this is just the fever talking, but could you... give me a hug?” she asked. A hug? Wraith, one of the most intense legends in the Games, one of the people Eliott secretly admired, asking him for a hug? Was this a joke?
“A hug? Really?”
“I wanna feel safe.” Out of habit, Eliott’s first instinct was to turn it into a joke or a boast. Of course she would feel safe with Mirage beside her. But deep inside, he knew Renee didn’t need Mirage. She needed Eliott.
He wrapped his arms around her smaller frame and pulled her close. With her head against his chest, she completely relaxed, practically melting in the embrace. The feverish heat pouring from her body was uncomfortably warm against his, but it was clear she craved the comfort of his touch.
In less than a minute, Renee was asleep in his arms. As much as he relished being there for her, Elliott didn’t want to be stuck there all night, paralyzed by fear of waking her up. He slowly lowered her body onto the bed and lifted her legs up as well.
When he moved to replace the covers over her slightly shivering form, she stirred. She hummed something that sounded vaguely like his name and reached weakly with one hand. He took her hand and knelt next to her.
“I’m still here, Renee.” She smiled with her eyes still closed.
“Mm. It only sounds good when you or Nat says it,” she said quietly.
“Your name?”
“Mmhmm.” Renee squeezed his hand and pulled hers back again. She shuffled from the edge of the bed, and Eliott brushed back her hair and pulled up the covers. Satisfied that she was comfortable, he turned to go.
“Can you stay?” She asked so softly Eliott thought he imagined it. “Please?” He turned around to see her staring pitifully at him.
“Yeah,” Eliott whispered. “I guess I can stay.” No matter what the fans thought, or what Eliott tried to tell himself, Renee took precedence over a midnight snack any night.
She smiled. He realized at that moment that he liked to see her smile. He laid down on the other side of the bed on top of the covers. She turned over to face him and looked at him for a moment before closing her eyes.
“Thanks, Eliott.” He brushed his fingers through her hair, heedless of its dampness.
“You’re welcome, Renee.”