Page 7 of Origin (Deridia #13)

She liked her work. She would be the one to do it. And he would have to let her, or... that implied a degree of control he didn’t possess. He would support her. That was better.

And she would help him.

And they would make quite the team.

Hated by all, to be sure. He hadn’t quite decided how he felt about her decision to assist the guards. To know for certain he would have made the same choice rather than make a principled stand not to do anything to make their work easier.

But happy guards meant unharmed prisoners. That was a truth that settled rightly, as if known to this other part of him. The one in the past with all the answers Ellion would never have.

“Ready?” Hana asked, and her smile was soft and so were her eyes, and he rather thought he would follow her anywhere if she looked at him like that.

Not never. Because he had her to help fill in the gaps.

“Ready,” Ellion declared.

Which wasn’t a lie, but wasn’t quite the truth, either.

But it seemed enough for her, because she nodded for him to follow. “It’s not so bad,” she informed him. Or maybe, reminded herself. “You’ll be bored most of the day, I’m sure.” She waved a paper at him. “These don’t make themselves, you know.”

He pulled up his own paper and looked at it. He’d assumed it had been printed. Machines and ink, pressed against crisp paper that was most certainly produced by a factory.

But when he squinted, he could make out that a few of the letters were misaligned. Smudged ever so slightly as if it was a pen rather than a precision laser that had formed it.

“You make these? The maps too?”

Hana nodded. “Not the originals. I have a folder of originals to work from. So it’s really more copying than any great work on my part.”

That wasn’t true. This was skill with a pen, was mastery with ink, and she shouldn’t sell herself short like that. But he did not want to make her uncomfortable with his compliments, either, so he kept them to himself. “You do not have to attend their work orders? Explain their assignments?”

Hana cringed a little. “Thank goodness, no. The farms have foremen to do that. They keep everything running.”

Ellion cast her a look. “And do they hate those foremen as much as they find fault with you?”

She opened her mouth. Closed it again. “Well, no,” Hana said after a while. “Because it’s not really for the guards, you know? It’s because they know best how to get crops to grow and what needs doing. And now with harvest, they’ll teach them what they need to know so they don’t take too early, or know the difference of a spoiled vine. And that’s all for the good of the people here, isn’t it?”

Ellion shrugged his shoulders. Seemed like what she did was pretty good for him, too. Would have been good for the others, if they’d stuck around long enough to listen.

He would not argue with her. Not when he’d just smoothed things over again. “So where are we headed, then?” Ellion asked. “If I will not get a tour of all my future work areas.”

She cast him a worried glance, but when it was met with what he hoped was an expression that showed he was only teasing her, she relaxed.

“The office,” she explained. “We have to recycle these.” She held up the pile in her hands. “I’ve got a few reams of the good stuff left, but we have to be practical. It won’t last forever, but the drop ship will keep coming and people will need their tutorials.”

“Which means...” Ellion urged, because he couldn’t picture what recycling meant beyond throwing something into a... something, and having it disappear. Recycled.

“Oh. Right. You probably weren’t a paper maker in your past life either, were you?”

He gave her a look, and she flushed, biting at her lip to keep from smiling at him.

“Don’t worry, I’ll show you. Not that you’ll have to do it, because it’s one of my jobs, but if you wanted to, I’ll teach you. Just so you’ll... know something.”

She peeked at him to be sure she hadn’t offended him. Smiled for real when it was clear she hadn’t.

“I know things,” Ellion argued. Or... he didn’t mean to argue. He just didn’t want her to think he was a complete fool. “I just... don’t know what I know.” It was a ridiculous point to make, because how did that really help anything? But it mattered to him. What she thought. For her to think him capable.

Why exactly, he couldn’t name, but that was all right.

“All right,” Hana conceded. “So when we discover you’re a master papermaker, you just let me know and I’ll stop teaching you. Maybe you can give me a few pointers.” Her tone was light and teasing, and he knew that, but there was a lump in his throat that bothered him. He wanted to be a master at something. A craft. Or... what else were people good at? Fixing things. Building. Planting crops and helping them to grow.

He worked at each in his mind as he followed Hana to the office. The office. Not hers.

He tried to imagine each of the jobs, hoping it would prompt him to remember doing them. For his skills to unravel in his mind until he could be sure of himself. Of who he was and what he was good at.

“You’re going to injure something if you keep thinking so hard,” Hana chided, reaching out a hand and tugging at his sleeve because he’d taken a few steps ahead of her.

“Is that something that can happen?” he asked, only half-serious.

She shrugged her shoulders when he turned back to her. “Well, your head can hurt. Get a muscle spasm or something. Does that count as injured?”

Maybe that’s why his head wouldn’t stop hurting. All the thinking. Forcing his mind to adapt and grow. To reach back and remember.

He reached up and scrubbed at his face. He hadn’t realised how tense he’d become until he worked to loosen the tension about his eyes. The set of his mouth. His jaw was the hardest, but when he’d managed even that, he looked back at her. “Better?”

“Much,” Hana assured him. They were at a small building, guards doing lazy patrols around the perimeter—much the same as they did with the rest of the compound. “We aren’t allowed in when there’s a ship in port. It’s meant for the wardens when they’re docked.” Her nose crinkled. “Not wardens. I just don’t really know what else to call them. They got the permits for this place. Set the rules. But they don’t stay.” She knelt. Pulled out a key from about her ankle.

She had more than one. She must tuck them into her sock or else they’d touch and jingle as she walked. Did she have more hidden in there?

The thought came slowly that she hadn’t asked him to turn around. She’d offered him that courtesy and he hadn’t done the same, and guilt was swift. “Hana, you could have asked me to turn away,” he scolded, turning now, even though it was pointless. But it was a gesture. A reminder that she could ask him for things. He wouldn’t grow cross. Wouldn’t ask questions about every little thing.

“Oh. Well. I just figured if you’re going to be with me so much, it would be tedious.”

She unlocked the door. A half turn. Two locks, not just the one. Another key. A full turn.

He heard it rather than saw, because he was determined to give her privacy even if she wouldn’t ask for it herself.

“All done,” she declared, even though she wasn’t, as both keys had to be returned to her ankle. He moved so he could stand in front of her, blocking the view of any that wandered by. He grunted when she pulled him in, closing the door.

“Aren’t you going to bolt it?”

“Can’t,” she explained, moving further into the room. “Guards have to be able to access me at all times. But they don’t mind that I like the door closed.”

Ellion frowned. “Anyone could follow you in here.”

“They’re working,” Hana reminded him.

“Night shift isn’t.” He tried to keep his tone level, but he failed. Didn’t she understand the risks? He took a breath. Forced a calm he didn’t feel. Of course she did. She had lived here far longer than he did. Another prison before that.

“Yes, but they’re sleeping.” She gave him a look. He was still by the door, staring at the bolts he very much wanted to slide into place. “Don’t do it, Ellion,” she insisted. “It isn’t worth it. Protecting from potential harm isn’t worth the very real punishment the guards will dole out if they find I’ve disobeyed their order.” He heard her move back toward him. Laid her hand on his arm. “It’s fine. Really.”

It wasn’t. And he would not pretend that it was solely for her benefit. But he could refrain from arguing. He had yet to see exactly what a punishment might look like from the guards, but his interactions thus far had led to a sore head all the same, so he could only imagine what they would do when truly provoked.

He was here now.

Which was...

He took another breath.

She wasn’t in here alone. Where anyone with a grudge could find her. Where she had only her own defences and the ability to scream for a guard.

He was there. To guard the door and keep her safe while she worked.

He turned his head. Looked at her. She was worried. For him. When she should have been concerned for herself and her own safety.

But she had been, hadn’t she? She’d asked for him. Wanted him there with her. Trusted him to know where her keys were kept. Knew that he wouldn’t rake them from her.

It was a startling sort of discovery. Filled with warmth and trepidation all at the same time.

He would not disappoint her. He would take care of her. Would listen to her. Ensure she did not come to regret her choice.

She’d put her faith in him, and he wasn’t worth it. Or...

He rubbed at the back of his head. Maybe he was. He didn’t know anything. She’d said that.

Still trusted he’d look out for her.

“You were going to recycle the papers,” he said at last. Leaving the bolts undone.

Because she’d told him to.

“Yes,” she agreed. Still standing there. Still touching his arm. “Want to learn?”