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Mitchell groaned as he awoke, lifting an arm and covering his face, as had become almost customary for him. He was vaguely aware of pain in his leg, but he currently was ignoring it. He'd been in and out of consciousness for a while now - exactly how long, he didn't know, but it was always the same. He would wake up, become faintly aware of his surroundings, and then decide to go back to sleep. 

This time, though, that didn't happen. After fully coming to his senses, he realized that he was in a small room, lying on a bed with the door to the room ajar in front of him. The walls were a sort of off-white color, and were completely bare of decoration. Mitchell began to try to get out of bed, but was stopped almost immediately by a sharp pain shooting through his left leg. 

He grunted from the pain, settling back into the bed. He heard a voice.

"Whoa, whoa. Calm down. Just try to relax. With that leg in the condition it's in, you won't be going anywhere fast." 

Mitchell looked to his left, and noticed for the first time that he had company. There sat a young woman, probably in her mid-twenties, wearing a white jacket and a pair of glasses balanced precisely on her nose. 

"Just relax," she repeated. "You're in one of the Guild's underground medical wings. We're doing everything we can for you, but that leg isn't going to get better anytime soon. The best thing you can do for yourself is to keep as still as possible."

Mitch rolled his eyes. He couldn't just hold still. That wasn't him. He had to be moving, he desperately needed the freedom that came with being able to run through the desert, to feel the sun on his back, and to fight. If he couldn't do any of that, he sorrowfully thought, then what was he?

"Yeah," he responded, "fine."

The doctor seemed concerned - and annoyed - by this answer. "You," she said, "and all your kind are always this stubborn, aren't you? Why can't you just accept the fact that you and your own foolishness got you here in the first place?"

Mitchell was silent. He didn't know what to say to that. Ever since he had graduated, he'd needed to be in the field like he needed to breathe. 

The doctor, or nurse - whatever, they were all the same to Mitch - stood and left, and another figure entered the room. 

This new arrival was dressed all in black, with black hair to match. And of course, he was wearing those gloves...

It was Seth. But they hadn't seen each other in years - what could he be doing here now?

The End

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