JUNE 22
CHAPTER 28 (Part II)
"WHEN THE LIGHTS WENT OUT"
Festus Precious.
Darkness wasn't always the absence of light.
Sometimes...
It was the absence of certainty.
Crystal drifted through a place where sound arrived before memory.
A faint crackling.
The rhythmic tapping of rain against glass.
Wood creaking somewhere overhead.
The distant whistle of wind slipping through trees.
Trees?
His mind tried to make sense of it.
No.
That couldn't be right.
The last place he remembered had been concrete, steel, and the towering skyline of Manhattan.
This...
This sounded different.
It felt...
Still.
His eyelids twitched.
A dull ache spread through his chest and side, deep enough to remind him that whatever had happened hadn't been a dream.
He tried to breathe.
Pain answered first.
Not sharp.
Heavy.
Like his ribs had forgotten how to move.
Then came another sensation.
The unmistakable scent of antiseptic.
Clean linen.
Fresh coffee.
Lavender.
Crystal's eyes opened.
The ceiling above him wasn't white.
It was made of aged timber, stained a warm walnut brown. Soft morning light filtered through cream-colored curtains, painting long golden lines across the room.
He blinked slowly.
This wasn't a hospital.
His gaze drifted across the unfamiliar bedroom.
Bookshelves.
Framed photographs turned away from the bed.
A woven rug beneath polished wooden floors.
A fireplace.
A small record player resting beside a stack of vinyl albums.
Nothing about the room suggested wealth.
Everything about it suggested care.
He frowned.
"...Where..."
Even his own voice sounded unfamiliar.
Weak.
Hoarse.
The effort of speaking sent another wave of discomfort through his body.
He looked down.
His shirt was gone.
Fresh white bandages wrapped around his side beneath a neatly fastened compression wrap.
The stitching beneath the dressing pulled slightly whenever he moved.
Whoever had treated him...
Knew exactly what they were doing.
Crystal slowly reached toward the bandage.
"Don't."
The voice came gently.
Firmly.
From somewhere behind him.
He froze.
Not because he was afraid.
Because...
He knew that voice.
It couldn't be.
Slowly...
He turned his head.
Standing in the doorway, carrying a steaming mug in one hand and a folded towel in the other...
...was Brownie.
For several long seconds—
Neither of them spoke.
Time seemed to fold in on itself.
Brownie looked almost exactly as he remembered.
Yet not.
Her hair was tied back loosely.
She wore an oversized cream sweater with the sleeves pushed halfway up her forearms and dark jeans.
There were faint shadows beneath her eyes.
Not from exhaustion.
From experience.
She had changed.
Not into someone else.
Into someone who had survived.
She looked at him quietly.
"So..."
A tiny smile tugged at the corner of her lips.
"...you're finally awake."
Crystal stared.
His mind refused to believe what his eyes already accepted.
"...Brownie?"
She nodded once.
"Last time I checked."
Silence.
Crystal continued staring.
"I..."
He swallowed.
"...thought I was dead."
Brownie walked inside.
"No."
She placed the mug carefully on the bedside table.
"You were simply making it very difficult for me."
Crystal looked down at the bandages.
"You did this?"
"I did."
"You stitched me?"
"I did."
"You removed—"
"Yes."
She answered before he could finish.
Then she folded her arms.
"And before you ask another question..."
She looked directly into his eyes.
"...you are absolutely terrible at staying conscious."
For the first time in what felt like forever…
Crystal laughed.
It was weak.
Short.
Pain immediately interrupted it.
Brownie sighed.
"I told you not to move."
"I forgot."
"I noticed."
She pulled a chair closer to the bed and sat.
Neither of them spoke for several moments.
The silence between strangers is uncomfortable.
The silence between people who once meant everything...
Is something else entirely.
Crystal studied her carefully.
"I never thought I'd see you again."
Brownie's eyes drifted toward the window.
"I know."
"You disappeared."
"I had to."
"You didn't tell me."
"I couldn't."
"You could've tried."
Her expression softened.
"No."
A pause.
"I really couldn't."
Crystal lowered his gaze.
"So..."
He hesitated.
"...how did I get here?"
Brownie leaned back.
"I was nearby."
"You were at the warehouse?"
She nodded slowly.
"I wasn't supposed to be."
Crystal frowned.
"What does that mean?"
"It means..."
She searched for the right words.
"...I was following someone."
"Who?"
Brownie smiled faintly.
"If I answer that now..."
She tilted her head.
"...you'll try to get out of this bed."
Crystal looked away.
"...Probably."
"I know."
"So you carried me?"
"No."
"You didn't?"
Brownie laughed quietly.
"I had help."
Crystal looked back at her.
"From who?"
Brownie shook her head.
"Not today."
Another silence settled over the room.
This one...
It was gentler.
Crystal's eyes wandered around the house again.
"This doesn't look like you."
Brownie smiled.
"It wasn't."
He looked confused.
"The house belonged to my Grandmother,My Dad's Mom."
"You live here now?"
"I do."
"Alone?"
She nodded.
"Most days."
Crystal noticed a framed photograph resting on the bookshelf.
It faced away from him.
Deliberately.
"Why are all the pictures turned around?"
Brownie followed his gaze.
Then quietly stood.
She walked to the shelf.
Picked up the frame.
Looked at it for a moment.
Then placed it face down again.
"Some memories deserve privacy."
Crystal didn't ask another question.
Something in her voice made it clear.
She wasn't hiding.
She was healing.
Brownie returned to the chair.
"You've been unconscious for almost two days."
Crystal blinked.
"...Two?"
"You developed a fever."
He frowned
"And Daniel?"
"Alive."
"Aurora?"
Brownie hesitated.
"I don't know."
That answer landed heavily.
Crystal leaned forward instinctively.
Pain shot through his side.
Brownie immediately placed a hand on his shoulder.
"Crystal."
He stopped moving.
"You're not leaving this bed."
"I have to."
"No."
"They'll be looking—"
"They already are."
He looked at her.
"You know?"
Brownie met his gaze.
"I know more than you think."
The room grew quiet again.
Outside, rain continued falling softly against the windows.
Crystal watched the droplets race each other down the glass.
"So..."
His voice was calmer now.
"...why did you save me?"
Brownie looked almost surprised by the question.
"I wasn't aware I had another option."
"You could've left."
"I couldn't."
"You don't owe me anything."
Brownie smiled sadly.
"That's where you're wrong."
Crystal searched her face.
"What do you mean?"
She looked down at her hands before answering.
"When people save your life..."
Her voice became almost a whisper.
"...a part of your own life starts belonging to them."
Crystal frowned.
"I never saved you."
Brownie looked up.
There was warmth in her eyes now.
Warmth mixed with something much older.
"You did."
He opened his mouth to argue.
She gently interrupted him.
"You just don't remember."
Crystal fell silent.
The rain outside grew heavier.
Neither of them noticed.
For the first time since arriving in Manhattan...
Crystal wasn't thinking about Gustavo.
Or GEF.
Or the three power centers.
Or the warehouse.
He was thinking about the woman sitting beside him.
The one he believed had vanished from his life.
The one who had quietly stood between him and death.
Brownie reached for the mug on the bedside table and handed it to him carefully.
"Tea."
Crystal accepted it.
"You still remember."
She smiled.
"You always hated medicine."
He looked at the steaming cup.
"You remembered that?"
"I remembered a lot of things."
Their eyes met.
Neither looked away.
Some reunions begin with tears.
Some begin with laughter.
Theirs...
It began with silence.
And somewhere beyond the rain-soaked windows...
Far across Manhattan...
A hidden network was already searching for the man who had disappeared without a trace.
They believed Crystal had simply slipped through their fingers.
They didn't know...
He had awakened in the one place no map connected to the system.
And that single, unexpected detour...
Was about to change everything.