Steel Don't Bleed

One Piece at a Time

The safe house corridors were narrow, utilitarian—bare walls, muted lights, doors that all looked the same. Iris followed him on instinct, her footsteps echoing too loud in the silence between them.

When they reached her room, Elias stopped.

He didn’t open the door right away.

“I’m not here to interrogate you,” he said, voice low. “I’m here because whatever’s happening… you don’t need to be alone with it.”

Her chest tightened.

He opened the door and stepped aside, letting her enter first.

The room was small but clean. A single bed. A metal desk. A chair. Nothing personal—nothing that proved she belonged anywhere.

Elias shut the door behind them.

The click of the lock sounded final.

Iris stood in the middle of the room, arms wrapped around herself. For a few seconds, neither of them spoke.

Then Elias said, “Start at the beginning.”

She looked at him.

“The real beginning,” he clarified. “Not tonight. Not the corridor.”

Her throat burned.

Her throat burned.

“I really don’t remember anything from before we met on the beach,” Iris said.

The words felt small compared to everything they were carrying.

Elias didn’t respond right away. He moved instead—slow, deliberate—pulling the single chair away from the metal desk and setting it near the small table bolted beneath the window. Then he gestured to the bed.

“Sit,” he said gently. Not an order. An anchor.

Iris crossed the room and lowered herself onto the edge of the mattress. The springs creaked under her weight, grounding in a way nothing else had been tonight.

Elias took the chair, turning it so he faced her fully. He rested his forearms on his knees, hands loose, open. Not defensive. Not distant.

“Okay,” he said. “Then start there.”

She frowned slightly. “There?”

“With what you do remember,” he clarified. “Or when things stopped feeling right.”

Iris stared at the floor.“Cold sand. Waves. Waking up without knowing why I was there—but not panicking.”

She swallowed. “I wasn’t scared. That’s what bothers me.”

Elias tilted his head. “Why?”

“Because I should’ve been,” she said. “No name. No memory. No idea how I got there. And all I felt was… calm. Like I’d done it before.”

“Because I should’ve been,” she said. “No name. No memory. No idea how I got there. And all I felt was… calm. Like I’d done it before.”

Elias didn’t push. He let her gather herself.

“I remember… the man,” she said finally, voice low, hesitant. “From the power core mission. The one we ran before everything went sideways.”

“He… he looked at me,” she continued, her voice barely above a whisper. “Not like the others. Not like a threat. Just… like he knew me. Like he knew I belonged there.” She swallowed hard, eyes fixed on the floor. “And then he said… he said he would find me."

Her hands twisted in her lap. “I—I didn’t know what to do with that. I told Sadie once, but… I didn’t understand. I didn’t know if it was a threat, or a promise… or if I was just imagining it. I thought maybe he would have answers."

Elias leaned back slightly, letting the weight of her words settle in the room. He didn’t speak right away, just gave her a steady, quiet presence—like an anchor in the storm of her thoughts.

Keep and have him say. Why didn't you tell me. And she will answer back " you don't think I have questions to. I can't remember anything and you don't trust me already. I didn't want to give you another reason to pull away. I'm surprised your even here now.

Elias exhaled slowly, eyes narrowing—not in anger, but in the weight of what she hadn’t said. “Why didn’t you tell me?”

Iris looked up, shoulders tightening, voice low but sharp. “You don’t think I have questions too. I can’t remember anything, and you don’t trust me already. I didn’t want to give you another reason to pull away. I’m surprised you’re even here now.”

Her words hung in the air, heavy with something unsaid—fear, frustration, relief, and a tiny spark of hope that he had stayed anyway.

Elias didn’t answer immediately. He just leaned forward, resting his elbows on his knees, gaze locked on hers. Slowly, deliberately, he let the silence stretch, letting her see that staying didn’t mean pulling back.

Finally, he said, voice softer, quieter: “I’m here. That hasn’t changed. Not because I trust everything you say, but because you’re… not alone in this. Not tonight.”

Iris let out a breath she hadn’t realized she’d been holding. Her hands unclenched, resting limply in her lap. For the first time since the van, she felt a little of the tension around her chest loosen.

“But I don’t even know who I am,” she murmured, almost to herself. “How can I… how can I even start?”

Elias tilted his head, a small, firm gesture. “One piece at a time. That’s all anyone can do. One piece at a time.”

The words were simple, grounding—but they carried the weight of a promise. And for the first time, Iris felt like maybe, just maybe, she could start piecing herself back together without being completely alone.

Iris hesitated, then looked up at Elias again, voice quieter now, more uncertain. “There was… there was one other time.” She swallowed, trying to steady herself. “I saw him again. But… it was so brief, I didn’t think anything of it at the time.”

Elias raised an eyebrow, silent encouragement.

“It was at the market,” she continued, eyes distant, recalling the scene. “During… the fight. Sadie and I were—trying to get out of the way, trying to stay alive—and I caught a glimpse. He was there. Just… there. For a second. Enough for me to recognize him, but not enough to reach him. And then he was gone.”

Her hands tightened in her lap. “I thought… maybe I was imagining things. But it wasn’t like the dreams. It was real. I felt it in the same way… that same… recognition. The way he looked at me. Like he knew me.”

Elias leaned back slightly, gaze steady, grounding. “Then we’ll take it as it comes. We’ll figure out what those pieces mean… together. One step at a time. You don’t have to have all the answers tonight.”

Iris let out a shaky breath, the weight in her chest easing just enough to let the thought sink in: she wasn’t completely alone. Not yet.