Chapter Seven

I'd finally managed to fall asleep. The next night, I woke up perfectly on time. I had no idea how I did it.

Call it an agent's internal clock.

I swung my legs around and stood next to my bed. My legs wobbled, my calf burned, and I fell back onto my bed. God. I forgot about my legs.

The scar from earlier this week was deep and painful, but at least it was a scar. Thank you, Color Central. My legs were still painful from last night's mission.

Last night. It all came rushing back.

Dix's voice asking if we were dating. Delstrie's lifeless body laying on a hospital bed. Chief's story about the Colored. Alka receiving her color. The poison.

I looked over at the cereal box. It was sitting beside my bed, out of sight in the shadows. I'd turned the lights off for sleeping. The only lights were from my teal highlighted furniture and the numerous little turquoise lights I had scattered around the room. My glowing art shone luminously in the dark, with its splattered teal paint shining like stars. It was a sight to fall asleep to.

Oh, yeah. Chief said I could take tonight off.

I grabbed my phone off my dresser, where it was sitting among my clothes. I moved carefully to my dresser and grabbed some casual I'm-staying-in-tonight clothes. A cut teal crop top, along with high-waisted black shorts. I went to my bathroom to change and get ready.

Ten minutes later, I walked out of my bathroom. Something on my desk grabbed my attention.

I walked over with some difficulty. My painting sat there, dry and beautiful. The shading I'd done with the purple was truly captivating, with the shades blending into each other like layers of the ocean. Her face was so well done that I stood there shocked for a moment. It was like I was seeing her for the first time.

Who were you?

It was painful to know that I'd never see her face in person, that every moment that she'd ever spent alive was a moment that I'd never know.

It hurt. And it hurt down to my core.

I turned away from the painting, too overwhelmed with non-existent memories of my mother to bear the sight of her.

I wish I knew you. I wish you could know me.

God, I hope that you would have been proud of me.

I hobbled out of my bedroom, too consumed with my thoughts to stand it any longer.

"Sy?" I called. No response.

I walked painfully over to her room, the original pain beginning to die down. I was moving with enough slowness that I was barely making a sound. I had no doubt that I would wake Sytra anyways, but it couldn't hurt to try. At the very least, I was showing that I cared.

I gently pushed her door open. "Sytra?"

"Five more minutes." She mumbled, tangled in her sheets. Limbs stuck out from the folds of her bedding in odd places. The girl knew how to sleep.

I laughed softly, admiring her room. She had as many colored lights as I did. Her neon orange lightning bolt stickers were scattered everywhere, making the room glow with its lights. Her room was shadows and bright orange, a dazzling yet messy display of color.

I envied her room's energy. Mine was more like a calming ocean of teal, whereas hers was a fiery energy of orange. Sytra's room had a life to it, a passion for her color. Something that mine lacked.

She wishes she had my organized calm, but I was jealous of her passion-filled fire.

I sighed. "Sy, do you wanna get breakfast with me or not?"

She only buried her face in her pillows. Her muffled voice spoke through the layers of linen. "Go away."

I smiled at her behavior. It reminded me of a toddler.

"Okay." I sang. "I'mma go get breakfast. Warm, delicious breakfast. All by myself."

I smirked and decided to be extra. "And eat everything there."

She groaned. "Fiiine. Lemme get dressed."

I closed the door with a smug look of satisfaction. I knew how to get Sy out of bed.

Five minutes later, she emerged from her bedroom. Her messy black curls were frizzier than normal. It seemed that she'd just slapped it up and a bun and called it good. She'd thrown on a sweater to cover up her pajamas.

I sighed, disappointed in my roommate. "Sytra! That's not "dressed.""

She whipped her head towards me, her messy bun swinging. "Feckter, does it look like I care?"

My mouth curved into a hint of a smile. The pain in my legs faded the more I spoke with her and her attitude. It became easier to ignore. "No. No, you don't."

She only turned back towards the door. "I need coffee."

"I can tell."

We headed out the door. I picked my keys out of my pocket and locked the door. A satisfying click echoed through the hallway. I looked to the right towards the elevator. The passageway was empty. I guess everyone was sleeping in as late as Sy. She probably would have slept till 1 a.m. if I hadn't woken her up.

Sytra. I remembered last night. She'd called me to her room just as I was about to eat that cursed cereal.

Poison. Someone tried to kill me.

"Hey, Sy." I nudged her. "Last night, do you remember when you called me to your room?"

She turned her tired eyes to me. "Yeah." She slowly moved her hand to the elevator button for up. Her exhaustion was clear.

"I think you saved my life."

She turned her head to me sharply. "What?" She exclaimed, her sleepiness forgotten. The elevator chimed its lovely note. It was a little out of place, considering that I'd almost died last night. But I'd almost died from the mission, so I guess it wasn't that crazy.

"My cereal was poisoned. When you called me to your room, you stopped me from eating it." I faced her as we got into the elevator. "When I came back, bubbles had formed and the milk was turning green."

Sy looked at me with wide eyes as the elevator doors closed calmly. "You're saying I saved your life just by asking you to help me hang up the pole in my closet?"

I smiled and pressed the button for level 3. "Yeah. Thanks."

She arched an eyebrow into a Really? expression. "Thanks? I just saved Grace Feckterhight's life. A top agent in B.L.A.D.E. who single-handedly planned the fall of M.A.S.K. The agent that got a boyfriend in the span of two nights."

"Sy!" I exclaimed, spreading my hands out in exasperation. "Come on! I've known Dix for years! We've known Dixter for years! We've known him our whole lives!"

She gave me a look of disbelief, not taking any of it. "And it took two nights to fall in love? Especially after he left our trio for danger and money? That's what you expect me to believe?"

I rubbed the bridge of my nose. "No, Sytra. I'm pretty sure.." I trailed off.

I glanced up to find her staring at me expectantly. "I think.. I think I've loved him this whole time. And he's loved me back.

"Sytra. I'm eighteen. It's been long enough. We've been keeping our feelings for each other secret so that our friendship stays stable. Even though he betrayed the trio. I think he deserves another chance."

She narrowed her eyes and jabbed a finger at me. "You see, right there, that's your problem. Always giving people second chances. One day, you'll give too many. And someone will come and stab you in the back."

I stood in shock for a moment, my eyes widening. "Are you saying I'm too nice?"

She thought for a moment. "Yeah. I guess I am."

I exhaled loudly. "Well, I'd rather die from compassion than live with a cold heart."

Sytra cracked a smile, breaking her tough expression. "That's the Feckter I know."

I gave her a look. "Fine. Maybe I give too much grace."

She smirked. "It goes with your name." She turned away, her expression fading. "Well, if you trust him.. Maybe I'll let it go. But I won't be happy about it."

I beamed. "Thanks, Sy. Relax a little." The elevator chimed its pleasant note. I welcomed it into my mind. I really did need a day off. Thank you, Chief.

Hard-working people rarely know rest.

The doors opened like curtains to a grand show, the sight of food and delicious aroma overwhelming us both.

Sytra tripped her way out of the elevator, clearly too entranced to watch her feet. "Coffee.." She mumbled.

I chuckled softly and trailed after her. What is it with that girl and food?

We made our way over to the rows of food. Fresh pizza, creamy mac and cheese, rich ice cream. Smooth mashed potatoes, warm scrambled eggs, delicious cheese sandwiches. Classic peanut butter and jelly, ripe apples, buttery popcorn. You name it, level 3 had it.

The cafeteria had the food out in the middle, with sets of tables and chairs scattered everywhere around it. The kitchen sat in the back, busy as usual. The chefs were busy in the morning, with the entire day to prepare food for. Some chopped vegetables, others stirred pans, still others prepared dishes for later in the day.

Chief hired the best chefs she could find, ones who wanted to provide those that fought the evils of the city. As far as I knew, every chef loved their job cooking for the heroes of Kistra.

Chief provided for us, with this incredible dining hall, a lab that was constantly working on weapons, and entertainment. It was the best deal I'd ever heard of. My services and loyalty to B.L.A.D.E, along with training from a young age, in exchange for anything I'd ever need.. and more.

I took a plate from a clean stack. It was warm, as in recently washed. The plate warmed my hands as I scanned the rows and rows of food.

Ah. There it is. My favorite breakfast dish, eggs and croissants, were waiting patiently in the breakfast section. It was neatly labeled with a sign.

I walked calmly over to the station. On the other side of the row, Sytra scrambled around, recklessly throwing food onto her plate.

Guess she really needed food.

I set my plate down slowly and picked up the utensil for the eggs. I got the amount I wanted and set it down. Sytra grabbed a pincher and shoveled sausage onto her plate. I gathered two croissants and stopped to watch the mess that Sytra was. She was nabbing some toast.

I shook my head and turned to find a table. I scanned the room, looking for an open table. I held my plate with one hand.

Before I could look much longer, I noticed someone moving out of the corner of my eye. I whipped around to find Dixter beckoning me over. His other arm was in a cast and resting against his chest. He had a smile on his face, his face had an expression of pure amusement. Whether it was from seeing me or watching Sytra's erratic movements, I don't know.

I was just glad to see him out of the medical floor. I walked over to him with excitement, careful not to drop my plate.

I set my plate down across from him, and he attempted to stand. He gripped the table with his good hand, his face twisting in pain. Eventually, he managed to get up on both feet.

"Hi." He said to me, a little out of breath.

I gave him a little smile. "Good morning, Cast Boy. You gonna need a crutch?"

"Nah. My legs just hurt."

"Same. Mine are sore, but I'm trying not to think about it."

"You wanna sit with me?"

"Of course."

I sat down with my plate of food, my eyes on Braz. "So. What did they tell you about your arm?"

"Eh, not much. Just "Keep it taped up, you can come for a new cast in a couple weeks, don't move it too much, and whatever you do, don't scratch it.""

"Ah. I see." I turned to watch Sytra flailing her limbs in a morning frenzy.

"She is not a morning person." Dix noted.

"Nope."

We both watched her pour her coffee in a grand finale of chaos. She dumped what seemed to be a gallon of milk and a bucket of sugar into her coffee before stomping over to our table.

"On second thought, I'll sit next to you." I quickly stood and squeezed in next to him. I was not sitting with Morning Sytra.

She huffed and set down her plates of food and her wildly unhealthy coffee. "'Morning." She grunted.

Dix and I shared a look. "Good morning..?" He said unsurely.

She proceeded to wolf down her food, barely stopping to breathe. When she did, she took long sips of her cream and sugar with a side of coffee.

I elected to ignore her and kept my eyes on my plate. I picked up my fork and began to eat my eggs.

"So, Dix," I paused to swallow. "Think you can go on missions while you're this broken?"

"I don't know, Feckter. It seems like I can't." He looked over at me. The way he said my name made my heart skip a beat. "Guess I'll just stay at HQ and worry about you."

I smiled and set down my fork, then put my hands together under my chin. I looked at him over my shoulder. "No, you won't have to worry about me. Chief said I can take tonight off. I was hoping I could spend it with you."

He beamed. "My first actual night as your boyfriend and you get the night off. How lucky is that?"

I smiled to hide my embarrassment at his words. My cheeks burned. "Very lucky indeed."

My eyes flicked over at Sytra, who was staring from across the table. Her eyes were darting between the two of us. "Can you please just kiss? For me?"

I eyed her. "What, are we flirting too much for y–" Braz cut me off with a peck on the lips. He pulled away, and I looked up into his eyes. They told me that he wanted to do that for much longer.

"Why do you always want my love?" I asked him softly, our faces still inches apart.

He looked away, uncomfortable. "I.. I'll tell you later."

I swallowed and sat back. "Okay."

Sytra stared, then went back to her mounds of food. I looked down at my croissant. For some reason, I wasn't hungry anymore.

My thoughts ran at a million miles an hour. Is he that alone? Does he just need someone? What could he possibly be so scarred from?

It's like he's never been loved.

I shot side glances at him. It's probably just that he's known me my whole life.. So when I finally accepted his feelings, all he's wanted to do is kiss me.

I tore off a piece of my croissant and looked across the table. Sytra had managed to eat all of her food.

I gave a little laugh. "How did you eat all that?"

"I can eat anything in the morning." She replied, her mouth full of food. She let out a burp that alarmed Dix and I.

I shook my head. "I don't think you'll ever learn table manners."

"Nope. I probably won't." She shrugged and swallowed the last of her food.

At least she's in a better mood.

"Feckter!" Someone squealed from behind me. I whipped my head around to find Alka bouncing towards our table. I smiled wide at the sight of her. I shot up and she ran into me, wrapping her little nine-year-old arms around me. Whatever pain I felt from standing, it was quickly smothered by Alka's love.

"Bonjour, Alka." I stroked her hair. "And how did you sleep?" I asked her in French.

"Bon! Mon nouvelle amies sont gentilles." Well! And my new friends are kind.

"Tres bien, tres bien." Very well, very well. I smiled down at her with affection.

"Seen Chief lately?"

"Non."

As if on cue, Chief herself walked out of the elevator. Every agent on level 3 stood in respect.

She looked around at the members of B.L.A.D.E. with an air of importance and appreciation. "Agents. There's an agency meeting on level 5 tomorrow at 1 a.m. sharp. Attendance is required. I'll put it on the loudspeaker when I get back to my office. Don't be late."

"Yes, Chief." We all said simultaneously.

She nodded. "Enjoy your evening."

After everyone had sat down, she strolled over to us. "Agent Feckter and company. Hope you are all having a pleasant breakfast."

I nodded. "Yes, Chief. I–"

"Yup!" Sytra exclaimed from across the table. "Filling as always, Chief." She finished it all off with a monstrosity of a burp.

Chief and I looked at her with the same face of disgust. Alka looked at Sy with childish eyes of wonder. Dixter just looked impressed.

"Ahem." Chief cleared her throat. "I came to speak with Feckter."

I stood, ignoring the flare of pain from my legs. I winced, putting up a brave face. "Yes?"

She glanced between my best friend, my boyfriend, and my adopted little sister. "Somewhere.. else."

Chief gestured to the food bar. "Come with?" I nodded and trailed after her.

She got a clean white plate and began scooping food. "I know that you and your friends are growing closer by the day. It's a treasure I lack. However, I need to remind you that the muderder that killed Agent Delstrie could be anyone. Even your closest friends."

The Chief of B.L.A.D.E. looked at me from across the row of food. "You need to be able to be suspicious of everyone. Even if it hurts."

I stared at the food. Everyone?

By now, her plate had eggs, bacon, and toast. She lowered her voice, putting a silver serving spoon down. "Feckter, you are our best agent. If I lost you, I'd be losing a valuable piece of B.L.A.D.E. I need you to be careful, and to not get yourself murdered. You've been known to give a lot of second chances. Can I get a Yes, Chief?"

"Yes, Chief." I shook my head to clear my mind. I've known my closest friends for as long as I can remember. How could I be suspicious of them?

She gathered some fruit and took a croissant. Then she faced me in all seriousness.

"Trust no one." Her hands froze, and her mouth pressed into a thin line. She looked at me with a look of emotional pain, like something had happened in her past. Like she'd trusted someone very close to her, and they'd stabbed her in the back.

Who has Chief trusted? What happened?

Who hurt her?

I realized how little I knew about the Chief of B.L.A.D.E. She'd been a mother to me for as long as I could remember, and yet.. It was like I hardly knew her.

Chief turned to look at our table. I looked over to find that Sytra was not-so-successfully attempting to get bites of Dix's food. Alka was encouraging her. Chief only shook her head.

We walked over, and I pulled up a chair for Chief. The pain from walking was quickly ignored when I saw my friends waiting for me. I willed my wounded legs to move faster, even if it hurt. I faked a smile to mask the pain. "Wanna sit with us?"

"Oh.. Agent. I suppose I could."

"C'mon!" Alka exclaimed. "Momma Chief can sit with us."

She set her plate down, then stopped moving. "Momma Chief?"

"Guess Chief's got herself a new nickname from the nine-year-old." Dix noted, taking a bite of breakfast.

She smiled with mixed emotions, her mouth uncertain. "I.. I'm honored. Thank you, Alka." The girl beamed.

I sat down next to Alka, across from Dix. Sytra scooted over so all of us could fit. Chief sat down in the chair I'd gotten at the end of the table. She looked both at ease and uncomfortable at the same time. Chief kept looking around, like she was aware of the other agents, but didn't exactly want to leave. Like she was considering if she cared what they thought.

Chief dug into her full plate of delicious food. Alka spoke up, her excited voice matching her personality. "I love my color! Merci, Chief!"

She smiled before taking a bite of bacon. She swallowed and said, "Of course, little Alka. It suits you."

I shook my head slightly at Alka. She's so childish. All she needed was some love and care. Honestly, I thought she'd be more tainted. Years of being an orphan can do that to someone.

I wonder what's special about her.

I just dismissed it as an odd thought. Who else would Alka be? She must have just been scared to trust us, but as soon as we showed her kindness, let her true self out. All bubbly and innocent.

Who else would she be? It's difficult to fake innocence. For a child.

Right?

By now, Chief was almost finished. "Hungry?" Dix smirked.

"I was." She finished the last bite of toast and stood up. "Well. Enjoy your night, agents. I'll speak to you all later." Chief turned to leave.

"That's it? You're just gonna say something to Feckter and leave?" Sytra asked boldly, her eyes flashing.

The cafeteria got quiet; conversations died out. All eyes were on Sy and Chief.

At this, she turned calmly and spoke directly. "I've given this group more attention than I've ever given four agents. Disregarding the fact that Alka is young and new to the agency, this should be more than enough time for you. Now, if you'll excuse me. I have a war to plan."

The Chief of B.L.A.D.E. left the room. After an awkward moment, everyone resumed their conversations. The sounds of clinking plates and silverware returned.

The four of us were frozen. Chief had never spoken to us that way.

I'd always seen her as a soft mother figure that only looked out for us. She never snapped at anyone.

It must be the coming war.

"Jeez. I've never seen Chief like this." Dixter said, sipping his water.

"It must be the war. Only violence could make Chief this cold." I concluded.

"Is Momma Chief gonna be okay?" Alka asked, her voice sweet. Her eyes begged me to say yes.

"Oui, of course." I replied with a smile. As long as we win. I gave her a hug to comfort her. I could tell that she needed it.

I looked her in the eye. "She'll be just fine. We'll keep you warm and safe, don't worry. There's nothing to fear." I reassured her in French.

I'm done eating, and I want to escape the awkwardness of Chief's outburst. I also wanna spend the day with Dix.

I hugged her tightly and let go. "À plus tard, Alka. Bonne nuit!" See you later, Alka. Good night!

I stood, then quickly bent over and grabbed the table. My breathing became burdened.

Braz shot up and grabbed my shoulder with his good arm. "You okay?"

Alka looked at me, her eyes wide in alarm. Sytra scrunched up her forehead in concern and irritation. "What hurts now?" She said sharply.

I'd forgotten about the pain in my legs. "My legs.. and my scar. They still hurt after I sit for a while." I stood upright while clenching my teeth.

"Maybe we should get you back to your dorm." Dix suggested. "Do you have painkillers at your place?"

I slowed my breathing, letting go of the table. Pain pulsed through my mind. I turned to him, determined to ignore it. "No. We ran out a few weeks ago, and we didn't get more because we didn't need them. Until now."

Braz nodded. "Okay. I have some at my dorm. I need you feeling better."

I smiled, my heart rate beginning to return to normal. I stood up straight, my hand hovering over his good arm.

I inhaled through my teeth. "Better." The pain was still overwhelming.

Braz looked at me with his brow furrowed. "Are you sure you'll be okay?"

I lowered my head. Man. M.A.S.K. really knows how to mess people up.

Sytra wasn't looking too happy. "Why didn't you tell me you needed more?"

"Because it hasn't been this bad until a few minutes ago. I guess sitting then standing up messes with me." I replied, grabbing Dix.

Sy only looked upset. Alka looked like she was going to start crying.

"Let's get those painkillers." I sighed, defeated. I couldn't watch Alka cry, or stand seeing Sy get upset with me. I needed the meds, but it was hard to admit. Being the tough girl (And B.L.A.D.E.'s best agent) made me want to seem invincible. I am not about to crumple to the ground like a useless puddle.

"Bye, best friend! Au revior, Alka!" I waved, then turned and moved towards the elevator with Dix's help. I tried really hard to make it look like it hurt less than it did.

"Bye, Feck." She grunted. Alka waved sadly.

The elevator doors opened, and we shuffled inside. I waved back to Alka and tried my best to smile. My fake happiness bounced off of Sy's grumpy face as the doors closed.

I sighed and leaned against Braz's chest. My legs were tingling from moving so much. "It hurts so badly."

He wrapped his good arm around me. "How could you fake it before?"

"I wanted to be strong for our group. And when I stood up, the pain overwhelmed me."

Dix shifted his cast to talk to me better. He leaned down and looked into my eyes. "You don't have to be strong for me. Just be yourself, and let your emotions flow. I want to love the real you, not a stranger that hides everything. And I need to know when you're not okay." He rubbed my back, understanding my pain. I can't imagine breaking your arm is any less painful.

"Thank you." I whispered into his shirt.

"Hey, what are boyfriends for." He kissed the top of my head. "Is the pain letting up?"

"Somewhat." I glanced up at his smiling face. "But it gets better the longer you hold me."

"Then I better do it until we reach our floor."

And so he did. I let his warmth overwhelm me. It overcame my pain gradually. It felt so good, so right.

Chief's announcement about the agency meeting tomorrow echoed through the elevator. Her voice reminded me of what she'd told me at breakfast. Trust no one.

But being in Dixter's arms, it didn't seem possible. Dix? A spy?

Surely I can trust those closest to me. The only people I have are Braz, Sytra, Alka, and...

Chief.

My eyes blinked wide. There's no way.

The elevator chimed for Dix's floor, bringing my mind back to reality. Back to what was true.

Chief's words are really shaking my foundations. Making me doubt who I can trust.

"So. What dorm are you in?" I questioned, my head clearing. We carefully stepped out of the elevator so that neither of us would get hurt.

"Number 22."

"Okay." I eyed the door ahead of us and to our left. "Well, I'm glad it's close. I'm not sure how much farther we could have walked."

"Yeah. Especially with your legs. I can't believe you could fake it all through breakfast." He paused, shifting so he could support me better. "You're so strong."

I smiled through the pain of walking. "Thanks. You are too."

We stopped in front of his dorm. He glanced at me with an eyebrow raised. "What did I do?"

"Dixter, you are so strong. You managed to bomb a warehouse while keeping us safe. You stormed a shortblade operation. You broke your arm in the process, and–"

Braz looked like he was starting to get mad. Whether it was at me or himself, I wasn't sure. "And I just sat there, almost crying, while you took out a fleet of M.A.S.K. agents. Injured."

I glared at him. "You couldn't move. You somehow made it back to HQ along with me, and Alka."

I got all up in his face. "And you managed to get yourself a top agent of B.L.A.D.E. as a girlfriend."

The door swung open. A male voice broke the moment. "Ooh, guys! Dixter managed to get himself a girlfriend!"

"Actually?" Another male voice said somewhere in the dorm behind the one at the door.

"No way!" Yet another someone said.

The three owners of the voices appeared in the doorway, and seemed to be looking me over. Like Who the heck would date Dixter, of all people.

The three boys looked about seventeen, and their colors appeared to be deep evergreen, burnt orange, and sunflower yellow. The evergreen guy had fluffy dark brown hair and piercing eyes. The burnt orange one had streaked black hair and grayish eyes. The sunflower boy had sandy, light hair and almond eyes.

Braz looked a little red. He cleared his throat. "Gwelter, Heltek, Junir, meet Agent Feckter. My girlfriend as of yesterday. Top agent of B.L.A.D.E."

He got closer to them and covered his mouth with a bandage-wrapped hand. "I wouldn't mess with her if I were you. If you did, I would beat you up, but she can handle herself."

They looked back at me with wide eyes. Dix continued to whisper. "She took down two weapon productions with at least forty M.A.S.K. agents combined. In two days."

He put an arm around me. "And she's mine."

My face got really red really fast. I looked up at his confident face, and that's when I knew that he'd never be ashamed of me, he'd never doubt me, and he'd never leave me.

This was the protective side of Dixter, the one that allowed me to trust him. It made me realize much of a good boyfriend and partner in crime he'd be. And a good father. A voice in my head snickered. I told it to shut up.

"Now let us through."

They moved, still staring at Dixter like he had just transformed into a whole new person. Braz's three dorm mates watched us stumble into the living room.

"Oh, Dix, you two are hurt." Said the evergreen guy. I nicknamed him Pine Tree.

"Great observation skills." He grunted, leaning against a sleek black couch. "Little trouble on a mission last night. Now if you'll excuse us, I'd like to show my girlfriend my room."

Pine Tree put his hands up and left the room. Awkward tension filled the air. Dark Orange and Sunflower Boy quickly turned and left to their own rooms.

We supported each other again, and moved towards the door rimmed in red. A reddish glow from inside promised a sight to behold.

Braz, once again, made a grand sweeping motion like a bellhop. "After you, miss."

"Oh, Monsieur Dixtet, you're too kind." I joked back at him.

He opened the door to his room, and I froze.

Red lights lined the ceiling with a party house effect. Posters of rappers and favorite albums were posted up on his wall in seemingly random places. An electric drum set sat in the left back corner, next to a closet. His bed was placed against the back wall, with sheets of thick red lines. He, too, had black sheets with sections of color. A black fuzzy rug sat comfortably in the middle of the room. A door to the right presumably led to his bathroom. His black furniture was edged in red, from his desk to the dresser in his closet. The door was open, so I got a glance of a tall dresser with multiple drawers. His desk was covered in sheet music. It was dark oak, as usual for B.L.A.D.E. It had a matching chair, which was rimmed in red.

The entire room expelled harsh vibrance, a life that Sytra's room shared.

Only his was different. Sy's room was more of a love for life, a fiery energy of excitement. An orange that was caught in bubbly circles of fun.

Dix's room was.. angry, a capture of life. Like he'd mastered the ability to live. Braz's room was mad with the force of someone who'd been hurt before. It's fierce expression was masking pain.

He was.. a different kind of energy. One that was hiding something, but I didn't know what. Pain? Secrets?

The mix of emotions I felt standing in the doorway of my boyfriend's room was a moment I'll never forget. His room reminded me wholly of him.

It reminded me of Dixter's many sides. His childishness, his protective stance, his loving boyfriend characteristics. His death machine mode, his flushed boy moments, his romantic hottie flirts. It all added up to make Braz Dixtet.

But I couldn't help but feel like there was something I'd forgotten. The glimmer in his eyes when I spoke of loving people, the playful give me love moments in the elevator, the concern for me on missions and on the medical floor.

I'd long suspected that something had happened in his past. Something unspoken. Something dark.

I'd always assumed it had something to do with his parents, or joining B.L.A.D.E. Did it explain why he left the trio for money, for honor? For something more than our tight circle? The price he's paying is losing Sytra's trust, and it's far from a good thing.

I almost wish we could go back to the way things were before. Before the coming war. Before Dix broke Sytra's trust. Before he'd left.

"Grace?" Dix asked softly behind me, touching my arm. "Is something wrong?"

Agh. I got lost in my thoughts. Again. "No, no. Don't worry."

He smirked and decided to mess with me. "Is my room that bad?"

I looked back at him, chuckling. "No, of course not. Can we go in?"

"Yes, yes. Can you make it with your leg?"

"I'll manage." The pain flared the second I moved. I'm strong. I'm strong. Dixter said I'm strong. These thoughts got me all the way to his bed, where I collapsed dramatically. It reminded me of Sytra.

"Look at you." He drew out the you, laughing lightly. "You made it across the room."

"Yay me." I groaned, the pain lessening the less I moved. "Maybe if I sit for a while, it'll heal?"

"Remember what happened last time you sat for a while?"

"Fair point."

He walked in. "Well? Do you like my decor?"

I chuckled and sat up. "You mean your sheet music? The rap artist posters?"

He rubbed the back of his neck out of embarrassment. I only smiled and ended his misery. "Yes. In fact, I love them. They're so you."

"Actually?" He asked softly.

"Yes. I know you write rap." I looked around at all of the lines of words pinned to his walls. "It's good to know that my boyfriend is so passionate about his work."

Out of nowhere, he rushed over to where I was sitting and looked directly into my eyes. "You know what else I can be passionate about?"

I groaned. I should have seen this coming a mile away. And here comes Romantic Hottie, back from his break from flirting with me. "Lemme guess: Me."

"That's right." He winked, only a few inches from my face.

"Agh." I pushed his face away, smirking and blushing simultaneously. "Go away."

"Aww, are you still in pain?" He stood to get something from his bathroom. "I might have meds."

I smiled on the inside. Yeah. I pushed you away because I'm "in pain." I watched him come back with a bottle of pills. I don't mind pretending. If it keeps flirty Dix away.

"Painkillers?" I asked.

"Yep."

"I'm.. not sure.." I trailed off, an idea forming in my mind. "Braz! Do you remember how Color Central starting healing my leg?"

"..Yes?" He asked, tilting his face down while keeping his eyes on me.

"What if your color did the same thing?"

He stared for a moment. "The paint can!" He exclaimed. He turned to get it from his closet.

"Good job, Dix." You figured it out. While he searched for the paint bucket, I eased myself onto the fuzzy black carpet and put my leg out in front of me. If we were going to splatter paint, I didn't want to stain anything.

He shuffled through the drawers in his dresser, eventually returning to me with his paint bucket in hand.

"So, do I just.. throw it on you? Should you put it on yourself?" He sat down next to me and carefully took the lid off of the can. "I've never done this before."

"Me neither." I eyed the paint bucket. "It's your color, maybe you should do it."

"How 'bout we just see what happens?"

"Sure."

He dipped a hand in, the tropical red crab sliding off his hand back into the can. "Ready?" He asked.

"Yeah."

He carefully smeared the paint onto my leg wound. It felt cold on my broken skin.

For a moment, nothing happened. I began to have doubts. What were we thinking? Regular old paint can't just heal wounds.

I continued to stare at it. The red ever so slightly began to change color. It faded slowly into purple, changing quicker around my wound. Soon enough, it was the color of the purple burst that we'd shared in the middle of Color Central.

Slowly, slowly, the pain let up. "Dixter, it's.. it's fading!" I said, excited. I almost shouted. "Quick, my other leg!" I'd injured both legs that night, and it only hurt more because of my previous calf wound.

Braz calmly spread the soothing cool liquid onto my other leg. It felt like heaven was slowly coming down to meet me.

I'd never felt such relief. Who needs pills when you have Color Central paint?

I sighed and let my head fall back. "Dix, this feels so good. The pain's melting away."

He breathed a sigh of relief. "That's so good to hear."

He looked down at his casted arm. "Do you think it would work for me?"

"Try it." I distractingly suggested, too absorbed in my own joy.

Braz carefully undid the clasp of his cast, revealing a bandaged arm. He gently unwound the bandaging, biting his lip from the pain. His breathing became heavier.

"Hey, hey. Calm down. You got this. You've overcome this pain before. You're strong." I reassured him in a soft tone.

He re-dipped his hand, and smeared it across his forearm in one hopeful sweep.

Several moments passed. Nothing happened.

Dix cursed. "Why would it work for you and not for me?"

I thought back to Chief's words. It was usually the color reacting to two soulmates.

"The color reacting to two soulmates.." I breathed, my mind racing. "Of course! When your color's paint touched my wound, it faded to our purple and let up the pain. But it didn't heal the scar itself, because it isn't genuine color. Paint's just a wanna-be."

"So maybe.. because I'm your soulmate, it healed you. So I'd need your paint to heal the pain in my arm." Dix thought aloud. He began wrapping his arm back up.

"That makes sense." I nodded. "Genuine color would heal it completely, I'm sure of it."

"You mean the pure liquified color? The stuff that they sell at Color Central?"

I shook my head. "No, no. That's not a pure Colored extract. I'd need your color."

"Why?"

"It's not just because we were meant for each other. Our souls are tied together. Our colors are tied together. We're both tropical colors. Ever notice that?"

"Huh." The look on his face told me that the thought had never crossed his mind.

"I would heal you and you would heal me."

"But how do you know? What makes you so certain?" He faced me, the question in his eyes.

It was a gut feeling, the side of me that was Colored. The facts and the healing.. it was all because of that part of me.

"Dixter, I.. I have to tell you something. About who I really am." I shifted, my tone serious.

He only stared into my eyes, waiting for me to continue.

"Have you ever heard of the Colored?"