Part Six: Awakening

When Gabriel woke up, he was in a hospital bed, covered by blankets and surrounded by machines making whirring and beeping noises. His throat hurt.

. . .why did his throat hurt?

He sat up, rubbing his head, then froze as he saw the uniformed guard sitting in the corner. The guard was older—close to his father’s age—and looked at him with a not-unkind smile.

“Do you need some water?”

Gabriel swallowed a few times. “Yes.” His voice came out rough and dry, and forming the words made pain shoot through his entire upper body.

The guard walked over to a nearby sink, filled a glass with water, and handed it to Keats. He started drinking it, grateful, until his brain fully awoke, and he remembered what happened.

The pill. They must have drugged him. . .some kind of hallucinogen. And what’d he’d done. . .

. . .he wouldn’t think about that. His head was clear now.

Hell. He was drinking the water. Who knew what kind of go se was in it. Gabriel stopped mid-gulp.

“You’re being very nice for someone who’s keeping me under arrest.” When he spoke, his voice was still a bit raspy, and it hurt like hell, but the water had made him more confident. Angrier.

“You’re not under arrest.”

“Then why are you here?”

“To give you these.” The man reached inside his jacket and pulled out a leather folder, placing it in Gabriel’s lap before retreating to the far wall.

Hands trembling, Gabriel opened the folder. Inside were several papers, printed on thick, elegant looking stock.

Certificate of Discharge.

“I’m discharged,” he said, disbelief ringing in his voice. “How in the hell did—why?”

“Do you really want to know?” Lucky son of a bitch.

Gabriel jumped at the insult, but forced his voice. “I’m sorry—what did you just say?”

“Do you really want to know?”

With a frustrated sigh, Gabriel shook his head. Must be imagining things. Must be paranoid. Hadn’t he been through enough to earn it?

“How long do I have to stay here?”

“Until you feel well enough to leave.” The guard lowered his voice, and moved close to Gabriel. “You have a reprieve, son. I’d advise that you move as quickly as possible, before the powers that be change their minds.”

As the guard spoke, Gabriel felt a powerful wave of emotion come over him; it was anger, pure and clear, more intense than he’d ever felt in his entire life. The bastard was threatening him; he should strike out; he should stop him; how dare he? He’d kill the hwun dan, watch his brains leak out. . .

A broad, wild smile emerged on Gabriel’s face, but then the feeling was gone as quickly as it had come, and he was left pale and shaking, smile fading as the horror of his thoughts washed over him. Silently, he stood from the bed, the sheets falling from his body, leaving him completely bare to the world.

“Get out,” he said, voice level.

“I’m not authorized--”

“Get the fuck out!” Gabriel screamed, voice filled with fear and rage. The guard looked at him, then nodded and backed away and out of the room, latching the door behind him.

After a few moments spent gaining his composure, Gabriel looked around the room. A set of clothes was resting in a chair on the far side of the room. He walked over, looked at them for a moment, then put them on. The feel of the fabric felt strange, alien against his skin.

Dressed and more-or-less presentable, he looked at the leather folder still lying on the bed. Without hesitation, he scooped up the folder and walked to the window.

It was so high up.

It was too high.

He sighed and headed to the door, where the guard was waiting. Wordlessly, he walked past the guard and out of the hospital, into the bright, shining lights of the Core.