The Edge

Gideon: Part Ten

They didn't have family breakfast the next morning. It was a mixed blessing. On the one hand, Gideon didn't have to explain his awful, haggard look to the others. He had enough food stashed away in his room that he could eat there and not worry about starving himself. On the other hand, the longer he was alone, the harder it was to get out of his head. His mind kept circling around the memories of that nightmare, over and over again.

He numbly gnawed his way through an energy bar and half a bottle of water. He knew he should get up, move around, maybe have some caffeine to counteract how shitty his sleep had been, but he couldn't move. His body felt like he was weighed down by boulders. A low ache spread across his shoulders and neck.

Hey, God? Is there a reason for this? It was probably the most informal prayer he'd ever offered up. Gideon preferred structured prayer whenever he remembered to pray, because he was never sure what to say otherwise, but the question felt appropriate. Seriously, what am I supposed to take away from this?

There was no reply, not even a vague but sudden epiphany as to what this might mean in a cosmic sense. Gideon sighed and stood up, rolling his neck to try and chase away the ache. Maybe patrolling the ship would make him feel better. It'd give him something to do, at least.

In hindsight, he regretted it. Today, what should have been a rote activity set his mind racing to the things that could go wrong. He checked and double-checked everything more extensively. The paranoia felt crushing, the weight of the thought that it'd be his fault if something went wrong bearing down on him.

Even worse: the thought that he'd be the thing that went wrong.

Gideon stopped and ran through his centering exercises. The thoughts returned as soon as he started walking again. His hands seemed to tingle with the memory of Matthias's shirt in his fists. The material had been more linen-like than he'd expected. Nothing like the soft texture of Arian's t-shirt...

Stop.

...it was more like the texture of the clothes they wore back on...

Stop.

They weren't supposed to fight each other, not technically, but no one intervened if you fought for the "right" reasons. Establish a pecking order. Don't take disrespect from anyone. If someone starts shit, you finish it. That one in particular had been drilled into him from day one. Even if Gideon had never been a leader, he was practically the second in command. He had to show he was worthy of that. Don't show any weakness. Don't take any shit.

Gideon had tried not to carry that into his new life. He didn't need it here. These weren't other soldiers, they were his family. They were all equals. He couldn't treat them like that, and he shouldn't treat anyone like that. It wasn't right.

His track record hadn't been great so far. Gideon might have been able to get over it if it had just been Matthias, a total stranger who had managed to stand his ground and hadn't seemed bothered by the outburst. But he'd done it to Arian, too, his brother. How the hell was he supposed to help Cassandra when he was lashing out at the rest of his family?

Why the fuck can't I do anything right?

"Gideon?"

Gideon nearly jumped out of his skin at the sudden voice. It was just Luca, but that didn't stop his body from responding as if the skinny kid he'd known for years was a legitimate threat.

It's just Luca. It's just Luca. It's just. Luca.

"...I shouldn't ask if you're okay, should I?" Luca said weakly.