Page 62 of Shrapnel

Defeated, Owen let his shoulders slump. “I-I just don’t know anything about him. He’s…”

He’s suddenly become this huge part of my life and I need to know if he’s ok.

But Owen couldn’t say that out loud. He could barely admit it to himself.

Elijah stared at him for a long time. Owen knew he was being scrutinized, but the intensity in Elijah’s normally affable face was making him uncomfortable.

“It’s not like I’m trying to stalk him or anything. Well, a little, but not for anything bad. He just seems to know so much about me, about everyone, but the only thing I know is that he is an average cook, can scale vertical walls, sleeps wrapped up in a burrito, and knows a lot ab—”

“Wait,” Elijah’s arms dropped. “How do you know about his sleeping habits?”

“He slept at my house. Twice.”

Elijah’s eyes widened and he looked from Owen to Jamie’s open bedroom door. “He did? Like…actually slept?”

“As opposed to fake sleeping?”

“It’s just...” Elijah rubbed his eyes like he was seeing something he couldn’t believe instead of standing in his hallway with Owen. “I need to get something to drink.”

For a brief foolish moment, Owen thought he meant alcohol. But apparently, when Elijah needs a drink, he means a fresh, cool glass of tap water. Now he knows why Jamie calls him Boy Scout.

Two glasses in and Elijah still looked like he was at a loss.

Owen had re-taken his seat at the kitchen table and was watching Elijah with concern. “You need something stronger?”

Elijah waved him off. “I’m just surprised.”

“I gathered that. Why?”

After refilling the glass, Elijah joined him. “Jamie doesn’t sleep.”

“What do you mean? Of course he sleeps. Everyone sleeps.”

“You saw the locks.” Elijah jerked his head towards the hallway behind Owen. “That’s the only way Jamie can sleep.”

Owen wanted to laugh. That was absurd. If anyone but Elijah had said that to him, he would have called them over dramatic. He tried to think back to all their overnight missions. Jamie had always offered to take watch—told Owen he caught some sleep while he was focused on something else. He never looked tired, so Owen had just assumed. But thinking back, no. He had never seen Jamie sleep before.

“I don’t…why? What is he scared of?”

Elijah’s eyes looked sympathetic, but he didn’t answer. He fiddled with the glass in front of him, keeping his attention on the way the ice clinked.

Just when he thought he wouldn’t answer, Elijah did. “I don’t know. And if I did, I probably wouldn’t tell you. There’s a reason Jamie doesn’t talk about himself.”

If Owen was a better person, he would back off. Respect Jamie’s privacy and Elijah’s attempt to keep it. But he wasn’t. Jamie was like a fire. The embers started small. Just smoldering bricks that grew and grew, feeding off air, stoking itself, and before Owen knew it, he was standing in the middle of a raging inferno, and he didn’t even have a bucket of water.

He needed to know where the fire started and how he could put it out. Later he would worry aboutwhyhe needed to know that.

“Elijah,” Owen started. “I know it’s not your place. And I know I have no right to ask, but have you ever seen a shiny button? A big, red, fat shiny button with all kinds of warning signs all around it. You know you can’t touch it, but the more you stare at it the more you need to press it. You need to know what will happen when you touch that button.”

Elijah watched him for a long time. His green eyes were dark with suspicion. “And after you press it? Can you handle the consequences?”

Owen swallowed, feeling the weight of Elijah’s words. “Yes.”

Time stopped. Owen felt like he wasn’t breathing, perched on the edge of his chair, waiting for Elijah’s decision. He could tell him anything. A small crumb would be enough to satiate his curiosity.

“Grant found Jamie three months after the Weavers took me in. He was just a kid, maybe five or six? It was raining. Roland and Grant were still young, cutting their teeth in the lower ranks of the gang, doing grunt work. Found him in some back alley, half dead with a knife sticking out of his gut.”

“A knife?”