Page 26 of Rising

“What kind of questions?” I asked, holding firm in my decision to not offer up any information I didn’t feel necessary. She studied me, her lopsided hair bouncing as she shook her head in disbelief.

“Questions about your family and your background. Where you came from and how you just happened to end up here on the eve we were attacked. About your past and your hopes and dreams for the future. Nothing too invasive,” she snarled, “just enough to sate any security concerns. After that we’ll do a magic and physical assessment. From there, if invited to stay, you’ll be provided a list of opening jobs around The Compound. You’ll have a week to get acquainted with your new home and to gather your thoughts. I’ll set up another meeting with Prescott, Me or Lieutenant Moore where we’ll discuss your level of comfort and job placement details. Any other questions, Alexiares?” She blinked slowly, right eye twitching as she tried to hold on to what semblance of her sanity remained.

“Ask,” I said, and for the first time since we met, I allowed her to do her job with ease. It’d been days since I’d slept. Hadn’t been off my feet in weeks. At the moment all I wanted was to be offered a bed and a place to put my feet up, maybe a good meal.

“Good, now let’s start with your name, your full name.” She smirked.

Amaia

He was resistant to the question of his name, though I couldn’t understand why. After my third time asking, I understood I needed to back off and give up for the moment. Sometimes in this world there were things people wanted to hold close to them, to reveal when they were ready.

Having done intake on nearly half the residents here, either myself or with the help of Jax or Prescott, I’d learned that early on. Eventually, if you stopped pushing and started just listening, they’d tell you on their own at some point.

Something like a last name wasn’t truly a safety concern, but merely for paperwork and record for our historian accounts.

If there was someone in our territory that we needed to be wary of, we would learn through the network, and those almost always came with pictures or drawings of the person in question. I didn’t recognize his face from any and I had studied them often. Prescott knew them better than me and if he walked him up to my front door, then he’d already deciphered Alexiares was not on any of our lists. Though questionable in terms of his involvement today, he may very well end up on a list soon enough.

“Moving on then,” I offered him a chance at another simple question, “tell me about your magic.”

His brows furrowed together, noting that this time I had commanded an answer rather than asked him a question. “Water and Fire.”

Wanting to take advantage of his newfound willingness to cooperate, I switched gears and moved on to the harder questions that needed answering. “Well, not to get all Rick Grimes on you or anything but I’ve got three main questions for you, given you’re not really open to much else at this point.” I tried to throw some humor at him, hoping maybe that would get him to open up, but by his disgruntled demeanor, I could tell it was no dice.

I gave him a few moments, a small gesture to allow him to prepare for another round of questioning. Right as I opened my mouth to continue, he glared into my eyes and answered, “I don’t know how many of the dead I’ve killed. It’s been a long journey and oh, I don’t know about five damn years. I also don’t know how many people I’ve killed. I haven’t really gotten into the habit of keeping count. I’m not a serial killer. I don’t keep some sick log of names.”

“Odd comparison to make for someone who’s trying to get an invitation to stay, but I’ll look past that,” I mumbled.

“And why? Why do we all do it? To survive,” he finished, his honey brown eyes hardening under his intense stare.

“You said it was a journey. Journey often insinuates a long distance, mind telling me where you came from and why you left?” It was an odd feeling, slipping back into my role. The questions came out naturally, mechanically as they had many times before.

“The Expanse. I was tired of the cold, so I wandered west. Heard it was warmer out here.”

I was growing impatient with his short, vague responses. The vaguer he was, the more drawn out this entire process was going to be, never mind the fact that he still had to do his other assessments.

Seth and I hadn’t even yet had the opportunity to sit down and discuss how things would go now that I was back. How we could work in tandem and utilize each other’s strengths and weaknesses. We needed to develop a schedule. Then there were the rounds we needed to make to the loved ones of those we’d lost today and help with funeral arrangements. Basically, a lot of shit to do and one asshole hogging up my time.

I huffed in irritation. “Ya know what, bud? I don’t have time for this.” Dropping his paperwork with a thud onto the desk, I scooted the chair back and walked to stand directly in front of him, over him. “You don’t want to answer my basic questions, fine. You want to be vague, even better. Quite frankly, if I had been the one to find you out there today, you’d not have made it past these gates. But Prescott found you, not me. Consider this your lucky day.”

He rose to his feet, purposely positioning himself to tower over me, not appreciating the tone of which I was speaking. A man like him probably didn’t let women feel comfortable enough to speak to him in this manner,ever.

“We can drag this out as long as you’d wish. It won’t matter. Not until you finish answering the questions,Ideem important enough to be answered. And until any of that happens, until you’ve been assessed and can be placed, you’ll be stuck next tome.” My eyes narrowed, daring him to push back.

I could have sworn a growl left his throat in challenge at the thought, but I chose not to acknowledge it. It didn’t matter what intimidation tactics he attempted to use or how he went about irritating me. At the end of the day, I was the one with power. He’d either have to fall to it or leave. Simple as that.

He must have been on the same mental track as he put in a bit more effort of pleasantry as he mumbled his next words, “And when can I expect this assessment to take place?”

“Tomorrow morning. Or night. Who knows. I have a few meetings I need to set up and some training to oversee. Of course, there are also the funerals to assist with, and I need to check in with my family. I’m extending a courtesy by saying I can either squeeze you in at dawn or late tomorrow night. Had you not wasted the last hour of our time, I may have been in the mood to get all of this over with. But now I’m hungry, I’m tired, and I really, really don’t want to hear much more of your voice today. Or I might actually lose my shit. And if I lose my shit … well, you’re not going to like the outcome of that.”

He didn’t need nor deserve any of the details; I was over sharing; I knew that. But I found myself not caring to put in any more effort in formalities tonight. I was damn tired of mourning, but evidently, mourning wasn’t yet tired of me.

“Sleeping accommodations?” he asked, clearly just as worn and tired as I was. My eyes shot to his stomach as I heard it growl from my side of our little stand-off.

“There’s a holding room in The Pit. It has a cot and a toilet, the essentials.” Deciding to be somewhat courteous, I added, “We can grab some food on the way back. I’ll have your things brought to your quarters once I’ve had time to check your bag.”

“Check my bag? For what exactly?” His voice went low, not in a threatening way but challenging enough to make you second think your next words.

I understood people could be touchy about it during the intake process. Most of the things they carried with them were the last remnants of their life in The Before.

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