Broken Past, Good Path

Those that I guard, I do not love

    Morgan stepped backward, partly from the slap she had received from her best friend and a half from the shock of it. She couldn’t remember a time in her life before that she had been slapped. Even her father had chosen to willfully ignore her rather than slap her. She rose a hand to her stinging cheek, bringing her eyes back up to Noah’s. He was heaving in and out, making it abundantly clear that he was still angry but his eyes were softer and apologetic.

                “How dare you, Morgan! Just because you detest your own life you think you shouldn’t cherish it? How can you not think about the people who have given up their entire lives to protect yours and you dare to say those words in their presence… Or about the people who have cherished your life… like the people who do love you… like me…” Noah spat angrily at her, his light brown eyes dancing with anger. He was pushed back for the first time Morgan averted her gaze from Noah since the slap. She took in the backside of Bradley, the cloth of her own shirt still wrapped tightly around his arm.

                “We do not hit anyone here!” Bradley warned, pushing Noah back to the glass of the cubicle that Olivia was in. Morgan’s eyes flittered between the back of Noah, who now stood with his head against the glass, and the bandaged arm of Bradley, as she thought over Noah’s words. He loved her? How had she not known this entire time? Or had she just been telling herself that she did not see it because she did not want it? Is that why Noah had remained by her side for so long? Morgan bit her lip, doing her best to prevent tears from letting loose once more. She turned and ran past Ryland and Jax, unsure of where she was going. She let her tears fall, blinding her as she ran down one hallway after the next. When her tears began to dry up, she slowed, looking about the dark hallways with questioning glimpses. The walls were completely empty from one hall to the next. The only thing different was the little alcoves halfway down each hallway that was decorated uniquely. In one there would be a stand with flowers, another with a man in armor, and still another with a painting.

                Morgan stopped in front of one alcove that held a rather old looking writing desk. She gathered her thoughts while she looked at the desk in mild curiosity. The top was scratched and nicked but smoothed out in the center from use. The stained brown wood lightened where it was used more often. Morgan lifted her hand, ready to run her fingers over the wood when she heard running feet. She turned away, forcing her hand to return to her side.

                “Morgan! Are you ok?” It was Bradley, his words reaching her in a breathless tone. Morgan turned around, facing him directly, discovering that he had stopped a foot away from him, drops of sweat beading once more on his forehead. The glass shard remained embedded into his arm with the cloth still tied around it tightly to slow the flow of blood that had begun to trickle down again.

                “You shouldn’t run. Or be here for that matter… Why aren’t you getting your stitches?” Morgan turned away again, asking with more anger in her voice than she had intended. She still preferred to be alone rather than be followed around, being questioned if her feelings had been hurt. She definitely didn’t want anyone to see that she had been crying.

                “We have only one doctor and as Olivia’s injuries are the most severe…” Bradley explained. His voice was soft. Morgan turned, finding his grey eyes on her, taking her in. Morgan nodded, facing him.

                “Show me the way and I will stitch you up,” Morgan spread a hand out in front of her, gesturing for him to take the lead. She lowered it a few seconds later when Bradley made no move to leave.

                “You?” Bradley questioned, amusement falling onto his face. Morgan rolled her eyes and crossed her arms. “I’m sorry… I just thought that you didn’t like the sight of blood,” Bradley turned, starting down the Hall of Letters, towards the main area where the glass cubicles were.

                “I do not like it. But I am sure I can withstand puking until I have finished the needling,” Morgan shot back. Morgan noticed the smile that crept up onto Bradley’s face as they walked side by side.

                “And how did you learn to stitch?” Bradley questioned with more amusement and curiosity. Morgan responded more slowly this time, unsure of why he was suddenly so curious about her.

                “My father forced me to take lessons… up until the advanced stage. I feel as though I could be a doctor, with the knowledge I have running up here,” Morgan said, pointing to her head, the distaste of mentioning her father obvious. She squirmed inwardly as Bradley smiled again.

                “Except for the fact that you do not like blood,” Bradley mentioned again. Morgan raised her brows, feeling that the stern Bradley, her high school bully, had made a sarcastic and somewhat funny reference. She hid a flicker of a smile.

                “Except for the blood,” Morgan repeated as they reappeared in front of the glass cubicle. Ryland and Jax had moved to a table nearby while Noah still had his forehead on the glass of the empty room. Morgan stiffened slightly as they walked closer and Noah’s eyes met hers.

                “Morgan… I,” Noah turned and approached them. Morgan held up her hands, visibly asking him to stop.

                “I am sorry Noah. I only have two hands. Your stitches will have to wait,” Morgan cut him off, following Bradley into the glass cubicle that was next to the one that Olivia had used. Bradley swiftly explained where everything was, then took a seat on the gurney, his grey eyes following Morgan, making her feel slightly uncomfortable, as she gathered a few items, sterilized them and donned a pair of gloves. Morgan grabbed a pair of fabric scissors and approached Bradley. She approached him with a new nervousness, unsure of the feelings that were running through her now.

                “Why are you nervous?” Bradley asked, his voice lower. Morgan couldn’t make herself look at him. She shook her head, ignoring her embarrassment, and went away to cutting away Bradley’s shirt from his body. She felt her cheeks turn a little pink as his shirt fell away to a chiseled abdomen. “Do you love him?” Bradley’s question left her speechless, removing the embarrassment she felt a moment ago. She finished removing his shirt, turning her eyes onto his arm as thoughts ran through her mind. She started again a moment later, wrapping a band tightly above the open wound, securely cutting off the circulation.

                “Noah is like a brother to me…” Morgan spoke softly, unsure of why Bradley was asking such a question, as much as she was unsure why she was answering him. “This may hurt,” Morgan grimaced as she pulled the piece of glass out of his arm. Bradley made no noise and she was sure he hadn’t made any movement either. Instead, it was her that squirmed as several dark drops of red followed the removal of the piece of glass and sprayed her and the area nearby. She turned, thinking about the rest of the answer as she picked up a few items to sanitize the wound. “Obviously, I care for him and love him like a sister would. However, in a romantic sense… no,” Morgan explained as she inspected the wound and readied a needle.

                “Why not? He and you seemed very close when I was watching you. The two of you make a convincing couple,” Bradley winced a little as the needle went in. Morgan clenched her jaw.

                “Do you always ask personal questions?” Morgan questioned; her eyebrows raised. Her icy eyes refused to meet his as they followed the needle in and back out again.

                “I am sorry. I guess I am just confused. Many of us thought you were a real couple,” Bradley explained, his eyes studying her face.

                “I have forbidden myself of love. I have never witnessed it. I guess I do not wholeheartedly believe that it exists. In a romantic sense, I mean.”

                “But that doesn’t make any sense… You would not be shown true love unless you let yourself be loved… by Noah, for example…” Bradley said. Morgan heard the distaste in his voice as he added the last part which confused her.

                “Then I guess I do not want love,” Morgan interrupted. “The area around your stitches will be sore for a few days. You may not shower or use that arm for exercising. Let Noah in please,” Morgan turned from him, afraid that her attitude might have gotten the better of her again. She pretended to busy herself, listening to the shuffling of feet behind her.

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                Noah Walstead looked into the glass room from a distance. He had never hit anyone in his life before, but at that instant, he had been the angriest he had ever felt. That was no excuse, he thought. He nervously waited, watching Morgan and Bradley converse, although no sound escaped the room. Must be soundproof. He wondered at the glass they had used to make the cubicle for some time then turned back to Morgan, picking up on her cues; the little smiles and finally her anger showing through her eyes. He walked to the door of the room as Bradley shuffled out, he was not shirtless and showing the muscles that his clothing had hidden.

                “She is asking for you,” Bradley nodded and turned to leave. Noah stopped him by putting a hand on his arm.

                “I never meant to slap her. It just… kind of… slipped,” Noah explained, unable to find suitable words. Bradley looked at him, his grey eyes looking as though they were peering into his soul.

                “Just make sure it does not happen again,” Bradley nodded once more and walked away. Noah sighed, limped towards the door, and pushed it open.

                “Take a seat,” Morgan’s voice was hard and unfriendly. Noah frowned and limped to the gurney, setting himself down lightly on it. “I will cut off your pant leg first,” Morgan turned to him, her eyes looking anywhere but at him. A pair of fabric scissors were held firmly in one hand as she began to cut away his pants. Noah took a moment to steady his breathing.

                “Morgan… I am so sorry! I do not know what came over me,” he spoke carefully, judging the situation. Morgan ignored him and continued to cut away his pant leg. “I was upset that you held and continue to hold your life in such low esteem when I have been treasuring it, since the day I met you!” Noah continued, his words coming in with bated breath. He looked on, finding Morgan with her head low, her hands paused in cutting as they shook slightly. “Say something… anything. Please…. I know that just because I was angry, I should not have hit you… It will never happen again!” Noah said, running a hand through his short blonde hair. He felt hopeless that Morgan would ever forgive him.

                “Noah…” Morgan’s voice shook as she took his hand. “You are my best friend… more like a brother and family, that I have never had… Of course, I forgive you for slapping me. I know it was due to my careless words. I am struggling more with your confession. I can not accept you…” Morgan dropped the fabric scissors onto the table next to her, having an excuse to look away as she felt his body shrink.

                “I have known that since high school, Morgan… I guess I just never knew why… when you spoke earlier, the reason was worse than I imagined.” Noah spoke bitterly. He slid off the gurney and limped past her to the door. Noah felt a hand grab his arm, stopping him momentarily.

                “Your leg…” Morgan reminded him.

                “It is not that big of a deal. It has been like this for a few hours already. It can wait till the doctor is free,” Noah said in a frustrated voice, shaking her hand off of his arm with one hand on the door, his face scrunched up in in agony.

                “Noah, I am sorry…” Morgan restated. Noah nodded, turned to give her one last sympathetic look before leaving the glass cubicle. He limped away ignoring the looks he was getting from Ryland and Jax. He stopped at the edge of the room, turning to look back at Ryland and Jax.

                “Where is Bradley?” He questioned them, a scorn on his face.

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                Bradley Thomas looked through the glass window of the medical room, his eyes rolling from the doctor to the blond girl lying unconscious on a gurney. He was freshly dressed in a new t-shirt, not feeling as conscious about being half-naked in front of a woman, although he did still feel hurt that he was pushed out of his own medical cube impatiently by Morgan. He tapped his toe impatiently, anxious to know the results of the surgery. Another five minutes passed until the doctor exited the room and removed his apron, mask, and gloves.

                “How is she?” Bradley questioned him immediately. The doctor nodded his head.

                “She did well through surgery. No infection. As long as she stays still long enough for it to heal, I expect a rather quick recovery. We are reversing the effects of the anesthesia and Olivia should be awake in a few minutes to an hour,” The doctor informed him, grabbing his arm to inspect this wound.  “And who did this?” The doctor asked with surprise, inspecting it more closely now. Bradley smirked.

                “Morgan Dylan., the woman we are protecting,” Bradley said. The doctor nodded his eyebrows in surprise.

                “She did a good job. I’m sure the boss made sure she would know how to take care of herself… It will be sore for a few days. No showering and no heavy lifting,” The doctor began to walk away. Bradley turned to him, continuing to smirk proudly.

                “She told me the exact same thing!” Bradley called after him, laughing as the doctor tripped and stumbled over his feet. Bradley turned again, looking back at the patient in the room with the long blond hair. He was thankful that today had not turned more disastrous than it could have been. Olivia remained motionless on the gurney as he observed through the glass.

                “Bradley,” Noah’s voice floated to him and he turned to find the man limping towards him with the doctor in tow.

                “You must have that leg looked at now! The lady can fix an arm but not a leg?” The doctor scorned, turning his flaccid eyes on Bradley with irritation. Bradley shrugged his shoulders.

                “You can look at it while I talk to him,” Noah motioned to Bradley again. Bradley rolled his eyes and gestured towards the surgery room, not accustomed to be flagged down in such an unceremonious way. The doctor huffed, proceeding them inside. Bradley stood to the side, watching with disinterested grey eyes at Noah who hopped onto a gurney as the doctor prepared himself.

                “Have a nice chat with Morgan?” Bradley smirked, crossing his arms over his chest, his irritation diminishing slightly. Noah glanced at him, half angry and half surprised.

                “You knew?”

                “I know you have liked her since high school. I have been watching, remember?” Bradley pointed to his own grey eyes that were rapidly darkening. Noah nodded, lowering his gaze to his leg that the doctor was working on.

                “Then you know I would do anything for her… let me help protect her… let me be on of you,” Noah pleaded, looking up slowly. Bradley turned and walked the length of the sealed-off room.

                “Olivia has asked me already to let you join… you know that I would be your leader, right? You would have to take orders from me and given our past…” Bradley began to explain.

                “I will listen to you! Please!” Noah begged, scooting closer to the edge of the gurney. The doctor pushed him back.

                “Now, I will have you done in a minute. Do not get too excited…” The doctor continued with his work. Bradley paced the room once more. A chime went off in the building, stopping everyone in the room to look up at the ceiling. Bradley even paused in his pacing and turned back to look at Noah.

                “I have no problem with you becoming part of the crew. After you helped Olivia you proved yourself. However, you will have to get permission from him first,” Bradley spoke while pointing up to the ceiling. Noah raised his eyebrows in confusion, raising his own hand to point at the ceiling.

                “And, who is ‘him’ exactly?”

                “The commander… Morgan’s father.”