Rumor Hasn't

It's always an early morning around here. We wake up early, we go to bed late, and sometimes we forget to go to bed at all. Ever have those mornings, when you sit up, and stare about you and wonder – am I actually awake, do I have to be awake, am I dreaming I'm awake? I have them all the time…but then again, I suppose that's natural for me: I'm not supposed to be awake at all.
***
"Are the scans back in yet?"
"No, no, of course not. It hasn't even been a week yet, Indigo. Do you really expect this place to start working better just because it's one of your brothers on the table?"
Well… Indigo shook her head. No. Of course not. But…of course, yes, too. She had expected them to do something more. Why else would she have stayed to look after her brother?
"Did they ever tell you what happened to him?" Vermillion asked. His hands were running over her brother's face, and his eyes were closed in concentration. Indigo watched in fascination before she shook herself out of it enough to shake her head. No…no one had ever said –
"He was attacked. Top secret, or so everyone says. Everything's top secret nowadays though." Vermillion opened his eyes, brushing invisible dirt off his hands. "It's just another way of saying they have no idea what happened. But…I think I might know. Come here – take a look." Vermillion pointed to the thin laces of scars running across Indigo's brother's neck. She reached out, hesitantly, placing a finger upon the lines before drawing back as if she'd been burned. "They won't hurt you." Vermillion's voice was slightly rough, and soft. "It's all right, Indigo. They won't hurt you."
She drew a deep breath and reached out again, letting her fingers rest on the scars again, and closed her eyes, opening herself up to the story.
She was her brother, seeing with his eyes…but not his eyes. Seeing, feeling with his skin. There was enormous heat, and in that pattern, she read the story of the scars. Fire. Flame – oh, gods, flame –
Indigo jerked out of her connection, pulling her hand back, eyes wide. "He –"
"Yes…he was in the Fire," Vermillion said, taking hold of Indigo's hand with his own. "But he survived, didn't he?"
No one survived the Fire.
"But…how?" she asked, turning towards Vermillion, holding herself tightly as his arms rested about her. The Fire was deadly. The Fire was final. No one came back… Except, it seemed, Indigo's brother.
"I don't know," Vermillion said softly, almost sadly. "I'm sorry, Indigo. I really don't know." She sighed unhappily, but had to be content with that.
"There's nothing else you can do?"
"I’m doing all I can," Vermillion replied. With anyone else he might have snapped; with Indigo, he spoke softly and with gentle care. There was no reason to make fear. There was no reason to breed hate. Not when their world was collapsing in on itself. It was the time to build friendships and to make alliances. Fighting…infighting could wait until later.
Zrk – Zrk – Zrk –
"It's time for me to go," Vermillion told Indigo, tilting her chin up. "Say goodbye."
"I won't see you again, will I?" she asked, pulling back, wrapping her arms around herself.
"Most likely not," he agreed. "Take care. It's been good knowing you."
Indigo nodded, holding back the tears that threatened to fall. She didn't want to cry. This was goodbye, but then, there were always goodbyes. There would be another Vermillion to keep her company while she waited, just as there probably was another Indigo that he would find and comfort. Maybe not today, maybe not tomorrow…but eventually. "Thank you," Indigo said, her eyes fixed on the floor.
Vermillion didn't reply; when Indigo looked up, he was gone. She bit her lip and looked back to her brother; he seemed so pale, stretched out across the white bedding. One hand reached out again, but she held it back from actually touching his skin. Without Vermillion to pull her back in case something happened, she didn't dare read his scars again. Her body shivered as she recalled the feeling of the flames against her own skin, as if she had been in her brother's place, experiencing the Fire herself.
For a while, Indigo sat there in the near empty room, just watching her brother. His chest expanded and contracted – the only proof she had that he was truly alive and not just a wax creation with eyes carved closed.
Time passed. She wasn't sure how much. Minutes, hours…it could have been days, even, she supposed, though if days were passing, Indigo suspected she would have felt the familiar hunger-pangs that living beings experienced should they be deprived of food for too long. Instead, she simply felt numb. Every so often, something would catch her attention – a little flicker to the side, or a brief change in the air. Every time, Indigo turned, expecting to see someone, something…and every time, there was nothing. The room remained empty but for Indigo, her brother, the bed he was laid out on and the chair she occupied.
Pure white walls met overhead, domed, displaying no seam, no cracks. The bed seemed attached to the floor. Indigo inspected where the walls connected to the floor – again, no seam, no cracks: the lines were rounded out, curving so as not to show any sharp lines. No definite angles, no empty spaces. Everything curved, avoiding sharp edges. Everything…a little too perfect.

Sometimes I sit up in the middle of the night – I think it's the middle of the night; hard to tell when there are no windows, and no clocks – and look about. I pretend that I'm someone else, that I'm something different. I pretend and sometimes I even break out of my shell enough to sing. It echoes inside these walls. I never knew before that I could like the sound of my own voice. I suppose these are strange things that one learns in the middle of one's death. I like my voice. I like to sing. I don't want to die.
***
"Indigo, it's time for you to leave."
She turned, straightening up from the chair and standing tall. "Yes." Her voice did not shake, and for that, she was proud.
"Please, come with me."
Indigo did not hesitate. She did not look back to her brother, stretched across the bed, did not think for one moment about holding back a little longer to run her fingers over his unresponsive face once more. No, Indigo stepped forward into the portal that had opened, and followed the voice that had invited her out of that place. She had been feeling claustrophobic. The walls had been closing in on her, and it had been frightful.
"Thank you," Indigo said to no one.
"As always, Indigo," the voice replied, and she thought she detected a hint of a smile within the words. "As always."
Indigo turned then, moving as if in a dream, walking down the hallway, her stride sure and long. Three turns, four, one corridor left and three more down. Stairs…though they couldn't really be called stairs. The rolling, waved shape of each wedge carried her down swiftly. When she was on the bottom floor, she paused, looking back up the set she'd just come down. A little sorrow had gathered. She dismissed it as best she could and slipped out the final portal, into the morning light.

I wake up slowly each morning. I stretch and yawn and look for someone to be here. No one ever is, now. You know, I almost think they might have abandoned me. I don't see them at all anymore. I used to see them all a lot. They came to visit me, and we'd sit up and talk for hours. They don't come by much at all anymore. Sometimes when I wake up, I can feel them, though, as if one had just left the room, too quickly for me to catch sight of. It's those times when I feel the most like crying. It's those times when I feel the most alone.
***
"Vermillion?"
His head jerked up. "Yes?" There was a woman, tall and ungainly, seeming to have been overstretched on her way into the world. "May I help you, Aqua?"
"No, no," Aqua said, shaking her head. "I'm looking for Indigo."
Vermillion paused.
"Have you seen Indigo?" Aqua asked, her voice sharp.
"Yes," he admitted, lowering his eyes.
"Well? Tell me."
Again, Vermillion paused. "It wouldn't be –" he began, but Aqua cut him off with a wave of her hand and a sound rather like a laugh crossed with a growl.
"You will tell me where Indigo is," she stated, her voice flat. "I need to see Indigo."
Vermillion shook his head. "I am sorry." His own voice had gone flat as well, and he stared at the floor yet again, eyes picking out the patterns that were sketched across the tiles. "I think you might have to find Indigo yourself." Vermillion bowed slightly, his eyes never leaving that one point on the floor, and then he straightened up, met Aqua's eyes for a touch of a moment, and turned on his heel , intending to walk away as quickly as possible.
Aqua prevented his escape, however, grabbing hold of his arm and dragging him back so they were facing one another. "You can't walk out on me!" she screeched at him.
Vermillion winced. "I am sorry," he protested. "I can't help you – if you'll allow me to get Cerulean –"
If anything, her indignation increased at the mention. "I don't need some despicable line to tell me how to find Indigo!" she shrieked. "Now get Indigo!"
He shook his head, drawing back, away. "I’m sorry. I can't do that." Again and again, he repeated the words, and still Aqua followed after him until it seemed she had no intention of letting him escape at all.
"You will tell me where Indigo is!"
"I can't!"
And back and forth…again and again –
"What exactly is going on?"
Vermillion sighed in relief as Aqua released him. Aqua, however, seemed anything but relieved. Her eyes darted to the new speaker, and Vermillion saw them narrow. Cerulean, then.
"I need to see Indigo," she said, but her voice was high and breathy, as if she'd just sprinted the length of the place.
Cerulean shook his head. "No," he intoned, in a low voice. "No. You may not speak with Indigo. Please, leave. I do not wish to have you removed by force, but if I must, then I will. Good day, Aqua." He did not bow, and his eyes did not leave Aqua's face. After a moment of defiant glaring, her eyes lowered and she offered a shuffling half-bow before retreating, leaving Vermillion and Cerulean together.
"Thank you," Vermillion said.
Cerulean smiled slightly. "It was nothing. Now, I believe you have patient s to attend to, do you not?" Vermillion paled slightly and nodded. "Then do not let me keep you from them," Cerulean suggested. "I may see you later, and I may not; whatever the case may be, go forward." Yet again Vermillion nodded, and he left. Cerulean stayed for a while longer, looking at the floor, his hands, the place where Vermillion had stood. Finally, though, he too departed, leaving an empty hallway, empty once again.

I don't like the walls here. They're close – much too close. Sometimes I can stretch out my arms and put a palm on either side of the wall. They press inward, trying to crush my mind. I hate the way this place feels, but I can't leave it. Even when I sit up, they still have me strapped down. I can't escape them. I can look for other places, visit other times, but I can't leave here. I sometimes wonder what would happen if I stopped. I suppose they might be disappointed with me. I don't like to disappoint. But oh, how I would love to stop, sometimes.
***
"What are you doing up? Child, it's time for you to sleep!"
"I don't want to! I want to stay up!"
"You need to sleep!"
"I don't need anything of the sort – I’m perfectly capable of taking care of myself, thank you. Leave me in peace."
"You don't know what's best for yourself, young one. You need to begin learning soon – "
"I do know how to care for myself. Thank you. That will be enough. Leave me in peace."
"Cerulean won't like it – "
"Quite frankly, I could care less, Goldenrod."
Affronted, Goldenrod straightened up, her arms crossing over her ample chest. "Child, you don't know what's best for you, no matter what you say."
"That will be quite enough. Thank you. I'll take care of the rest."
Goldenrod tsked and made all manner of faces and comments over the sort of child who brushed off elders, but in the end, she could do nothing.