I watched as the grey outline of Damien’s name in my helmet faded to red, our communications coming to an end with one of his painful shouts. My heart stopped at the sight, even though I had seen his name in red so many times if he was offline.
There was no way to prove that now if he was offline or…
No, I couldn’t think that.
“We need to open this door,” I insisted, not caring if I had to pry it open by the seams themselves. Yet, even I knew that to be impossible. Those District One corpses had tried everything on the verge of death and weren’t strong enough.
“Even if we could, Doctor, you would know a contained fire like that would become an implosion with the blast of oxygen at its disposal,” Miles turned to me.
I wasn’t going to listen to some low level agent, only the one in charge with Damien’s absence. That’s all it was, a minor absence.
“Grimes,” I went over to him, seeing him collect his thoughts and his breath, “We need Garcia on standby. Maybe we could even call Owen for demolitions.”
“Jack,” his helmet turned my direction, “we need a moment to think and regroup. We may have to come to the conclusion he’s-”
“No, we won’t,” I scowled, “He wouldn’t do the same for any of us. If it was one of us out there in his stead, he’d come back with a body. The fire could have gotten into the chips in his suit. If you’re just going to stand here and do NOTHING, then put me in fucking charge.”
“You? It’s your fucking fault we are in this mess, Doctor. You’ve put these delusional ideas in his head, putting his life at risk!” Grimes shouted at me, “That’s my brother for god's sake and if you think I’m just going to stand here and do nothing, you’re wrong.”
“In case you haven’t noticed, Grimes, Damien Rok has had delusions in his brain far longer than he’s known me. He had them practically the day he was born. That’s because he’s not a fucking coward like you are!” I shouted back, looking at Regina, signing at her “Where does the vent lead to?”
She looked at her tablet, then back at me. From her body posture alone, I already knew the answer.
“I don’t know,” she shrugged, “Up.”
“That’s very helpful…” I signed back, hoping my angst showcased my fucking sarcasm. But I suppose in a way, she was kind of helpful.
After all, Regina was the one to claim that they were inside the walls, talking.
What if these vents were means of navigation for them? It would explain their quickness to navigate these labyrinths, connecting between multiple rooms at once and avoiding the main halls. After all, as far as I knew, these anathemas couldn’t open the locked doors. Meaning they had different avenues of approach.
“What’s the nearest room to the North East with a door?” I asked her.
“It’s not mapped out…but let me try.”
“Care to include me in this conversation?” Grimes asked, crossing his arms.
“If you learned sign language like your boss, maybe you’d feel included,” I scowled, “The vents…or whatever they are. Damien’s in one, going upward. But it can’t be for long. The anathemas can easily crawl to the surface with the tunnels. Above ground, there weren’t any mechanical or man made looking entrances besides those tunnels. Meaning he’s going up temporarily before going to another room. The anathemas can’t open doors, as far as we know, so to get into those bigger rooms they must use these narrow spaces.”
“That’s mere speculation…” Miles retorted.
“I don’t know if you know anything about science, Agent, but all facts start with mere observation and speculation,” I turned to him. He had his shotgun resting comfortably against the wall, signaling he didn’t seem to have any intention of taking the lead. Fine. I’ll fucking do it.
I grabbed his shotgun, surprising him as he clearly didn’t like his firearm being taken. Also, it didn’t seem like any of the agents here liked the idea of me holding a firearm.
“Whoa!” Grimes shouted, his hand resting on the barrel, “Just what do you think you’re doing?”
“Going to go find him. Regina is going to map this area with drones, and I’m going to find Agent Rok. And if there’s any remnants of the Collector or anathemas, I assume this gun will do just fine.”
“You can’t be serious! Damien ordered you to return back to Camp-”
“And as you can see, he’s gone offline. That makes me the most senior person in charge. Garcia will be on standby as field medic with a small team if needed,” I ordered.
“Ruenova!” Grimes shouted through comms, “Tell her she’s-”
“She’s theoretically correct, in terms of the chain of command, Grimes. However, she’s not ordering you. Regina volunteered. Garcia is the field medic so he’s on-call. Other Milithreat agents haven’t been given orders and can do whatever they please. So can Doctor Deveraux,” Ruenova answered, “Rok’s health monitoring disconnected a few seconds after his comms did, and while they showed signs of distress they aren’t conclusive with him being deceased.”
Which meant he was still fucking alive. I knew that. Damien Rok did not die easily, everyone else should know that too. I was glad at least Ruenova was on my side. That didn’t mean he wouldn’t be badly injured or incapacitated in some way. The faster we could reach him, the better such injuries could heal.
“That settles it, then,” I affirmed, “Regina, with me.”
She followed me with enthusiasm, one hand working on getting those drones released and the other securing her laser sword.
“Hey, you can’t just take my shotgun!”
“Finders-fucking-keepers,” I flipped Miles the bird, hearing an exasperated sigh next to me: Grimes. He followed my lead, barking orders through comms. Everyone else would return to Camp, Garcia would be on standby with a new team, and the rest of the intel team needed to try and get those cameras online. If Damien were to somehow return to the fiery mess of a room, maybe they could pinpoint movement.
The drones took point a hundred yards in front of us, Grimes in the back with his weapons while Regina was between us. The pace was ungodly slow, given we were relying on the drones to lead the way instead of our own eyes and ears. While I wished we could have mapped more of this out before going on a crazy alien hunt, that hadn’t been my call to make.
“I thought you were all about the greater good, Jacqueline,” Grimes spoke to me from a private channel.
“I am, what makes you think I’m not?” I asked.
“Pretty sure one of your dissertations mentioned the galaxies are the way they are because nobody is willing to sacrifice the few for the many…”
“Then you didn’t read the entire thing, did you?” I rolled my eyes, not having it be the first time someone misinterpreted my work, “I’m talking about the little selfish decisions. There are clear defining moments in our life where our brain battles our heart. We often let our emotions get the better of us. When faced with a moment of saving someone, we don’t often think of the consequence of doing so.”
“You don’t think that’s what you’re doing right now?”
“No. I don’t. I’m not ordering anyone to come with me, I’m not putting others at risk that don’t wish to help me. I’m respecting the balance,” I answered bitterly, “What of you? You called Damien your brother. You’re more just battle buddies if anything, but even if you considered him a sibling or best friend, I’d expect more enthusiasm at going to rescue him.”
“Oh, like you would know what it’s like…”
I knew exactly what it was like. I knew what it felt like to do nothing, that there was nothing I could do to help or save someone who had made a decision. I knew what it was like to have a consequence affect someone I cared about. I knew what I had done. I couldn’t make that same mistake again.
“You don’t know Damien that well, Jack. He’s been in plenty of similar situations a thousand times before. We don’t find him, he’ll find his way back to us,” Grimes grunted, “Stop acting like you know anything about him, or stop pretending you give a damn.”
“He may have been in thousands of scenarios like this before. But I’m making sure this is the first time he’s aware that someone on his team is looking for him, that he’s not alone. I know what it’s like, being a part of a team where nobody believes in you, nobody looks out for you. I also know Damien had been a part of a team for years, put into situations where nobody was coming to save him-”
“Oh, I see it now. You’re doing all of this to save him. You think by saving him, you can save the rest of the world. If a man like Damien Rok can change, be forced to change by you, so too can the rest of us…” Grimes spoke with almost disgust, as if I was treating him like some experiment. It was more than that. I knew how Damien felt. I knew the loneliness he could lock himself in, thinking nobody could save him.
Even if I didn’t know how to use the gun tucked into my arm or have any means of ordering Milithreat personnel around, I could do something that all humans could…and should do: care. And not just the care showcased in flowery words, but through action. Nobody else had saved him, and I doubted I could either, but I could at least show him I tried.
“I think it’s painfully obvious, Doctor Deveraux, that he cares for you more than you could ever care about him,” Grimes added, which made me swallow harshly. So, Grimes did know, or at least was hinting at it.
I hated that he accused me of now caring with the same weight or fervor. Damien Rok was a passionate man. He spoke it through his actions, whether being protective or assertive. Why was I any different? I couldn’t protect him in the same way he protected me. But if he protects my body, why couldn’t I try and protect his soul?
I blinked a tear away, feeling Regina nudge my shoulder as she showed me the datapad. There was a room ahead, granted not seemingly large by the perimeter scans, but it was blocked by a door. That was something. We approached it with a bit more pace, given the drones had stopped moving. Sure enough, there was a door perfect enough for me to be helpful.
Why did we always have to judge on being helpful? There were certain professions where that was true. Law enforcement, soldiers, doctors, surgeons, whatever it took to help people, that was what public service was for. Granted, nobody would have gone to Colony Negative if they couldn’t assist in some capacity. I needed to help more than just being the expert door opener.
I couldn’t just leave this place unanswered.
I got to working on the door, running my scans and algorithms as I noticed Regina and Grimes talking. Grimes used his own datapad to speak and translate with her, which means he tried. While he didn’t know the language, he still did his best to learn as much as he could. I felt a little bad for yelling at him earlier. His inaction was pissing me off.
But, I had to put myself in his shoes. If he had seen Damien get himself into a pickle like this thousands of times before and come out unscathed, then he trusted Damien to always get the job done. It was me this time using more of my heart than my brain. Grimes perhaps didn’t mean to accuse me, he wanted me to think about my own feelings.
I knew I cared about him. I didn’t want to put a volume on how I felt, because I knew that emotions and things like love didn’t have a price or value. These things existed without measurement. Anyone making demands at that didn’t know how they worked.
The door opened to a long room, the ceiling much lower than that of the Collector’s little lair. No anathemas or monsters on the walls this time. In fact, the room looked practically empty minus one large blemish. Inside the empty room of no gadgets, ports, or significance laid a giant, massive hole. Another tunnel, very similar to the ones above ground, only this one added another layer.
Which meant there was even more below us still, definitely unmapped and uncharted. There were three other doors across the way, meaning this was a converging point.
I slowly walked over, peeking my head over it. Owen, thankfully, was nowhere around to scare me this time. Grimes did the same as before and let a flare drop, the red light shimmering through the black. It didn’t stop like before, where it kept going only thirty or fifty feet down before landing on the ground. It just kept going, going and going until that light faded, the blackness swallowing it up entirely. Grimes and I looked at each other before stepping back, both of us equally eager to stay away from this pit of death.
A crashing sound was heard, alerting all of us, even Regina who’s aides picked it up. I flicked the stun mode off the shotgun, holding it firmly against my shoulder. I had only seen the gun being shot before, never having once used it myself. But it couldn’t pack that much of a punch right?
Regina didn’t look too phased, looking at the drone data that didn’t seem to signaling any lifeforms. The sound didn’t sound like anathemas, who usually had a crawling, nail digging friction sound to them.
The crashing sound happened again. Then again. Again and again as if something was falling out of the sky. In fact, someone was. A body burst through from the ceiling, crashing into the hard floor with a groan. All three of us were on alert, before realizing who this meteor crashing through the atmosphere was.
Damien coughed in pain, glancing around as if the dust settled around his eyes before seeing Grimes, “Oh! Hey bud.”
“Fuck, Damien, how many floors did you just…” Grimes looked up, flashing his light up to see layers upon layers of black he had fallen through.
I immediately ran to his side, lifting the back of his head up before seeing the slight burns on his neck, “Are you alright?”
You might be reading a pirated copy. Look for the official release to support the author.
“Jack? I thought I told you…” he trailed off, seeing the shotgun at my side before looking into my eyes, almost impressed.
“Like hell I was going to leave you behind. Now again, are you alright?” I asked again, not being so gentle this time. Yet my fingers wiped the sweat and black dust all over his face, avoiding any of his burns.
“Yeah, I think. It’s all a blur. Getting cooked alive like a rotisserie chicken…climbing up who knows how many fucking floors only to fall through them all. Whatever is in those vents is like parchment paper,” he laughed.
Laughed? How the hell could he laugh about a situation like this?
“Garcia’s on his way,” Grimes noted, knowing a medical diagnosis certainly was needed.
“Is everyone else okay?” Damien asked, his hand moving to my thigh, “Are you okay?”
“Everyone’s fine,” I assured him, seeing relief in his eyes as he nodded. Relief was then swallowed by exhaustion. I could watch blue enter his eyes before rolling back. His body melted into my hands from the exhaustion, my fingers moving to his pulse to only sense a steady rhythm. He was fine. Just exhausted with his adrenaline waning, and I couldn’t blame him for that. Who knows when was the last time he had gotten a good sleep either.
Garcia arrived with the team, getting a gurney to help assist him back to Camp. The rest of the afternoon felt like a blur, all of us ready to leave that space, forget the Collector and return back to our safety. Yet, I could feel a slight longing about the tunnel behind me, the same itch I had when I first saw them above ground. I knew what that itch was. I didn’t want to leave this place until I saw what was down there.
It was a deadly itch to have.
Grimes waited for me in the back as we began to move, both of us feeling an awkward tension. I knew I would eventually have to apologize. I just didn’t want to right now. He knew that too.
“He’s never done that before,” Grimes spoke, not adding to his comment.
“What? Fallen twenty feet out of the sky or been almost cooked alive?” I asked, hearing him slightly laugh.
“Hm, so he hasn’t told you about the time he HALO jumped with a faulty parachute…” Grimes continued to chuckle, “No, I meant the passing out. He usually carries on until he knows he’s safe.”
At that, Grimes fell behind amongst the other agents, leaving me to my own thoughts about his words. I didn’t know what to feel about them, so I swallowed it down like the rest, wishing nothing more than to hold Damien’s limp hand dangling from the mobile gurney.
-
The surface wasn’t uninhabitable. It just wasn’t luscious. There were hardly any visible signs of vegetation, where down here on what was the first floor showed intrinsic designs of not just electrical wires but irrigation as well. Damien falling through the walls revealed a lot more than maybe he intended.
The crawl spaces were large enough for humans, but maybe not for someone his size or weight. Anathemas when they turned became lanky, losing a shit ton of body weight and muscle at the transformation. They’d do just fine in these vents without causing an accident.
They couldn’t open doors, at least physically. Yet it seemed their language were the modules to opening them. It didn’t make any sense.
Again, most humans don’t go down without reason. What if this was the opposite? They lived downward until they were forced to the surface…where on the surface it seemed clear those people didn’t live in luxury or safety.
Tests back from the small sample of the Collector, oddly enough, were akin to the enzyme of the anathemas. Not the same thing, but certainly if someone had gotten a bit into their mouth or bloodstream, it could be potent enough for the infection to start and spread. If anything, a lot of the ooze was…excrement. I didn’t know how to exactly tell Damien he had pretty much been a bag of shit lit aflame on someone’s doorstep momentarily, but that’s kind of what happened.
However this layer of shit made the study of the molecules even easier to analyze, especially that extra layer of DNA strand. I ran the genetic information through multiple scans, avoiding having it flagged by my study or anyone else's. For now, I had to push that thought aside and study this raw data as it was: raw. But the more I thought about how they must’ve known about this minor gene…the more deliberate it felt.
And looking upon the genetic sequence, again, it proved me right.
Like I told Damien weeks ago, genetic mutations can only do two functions with DNA: create a loss of function, or gain of a new one. This, somehow, could do both. This wasn’t something natural. This wasn’t something that could mutate out of nowhere, evolve from dust. Whether humans believed we evolved or were created, I suppose it didn’t matter. I knew what I studied and believed in, and I know that belief can be more powerful than mere facts.
At the end of the day, things aren’t spawned from dust. Especially the coding of us, and now this infection that turned people into animals. Animals that crawled in tunnels and vents just as old as the walls around us.
Like rats in a fucking maze.
This had to have been created. This wasn’t an accident. They deliberately wanted to pick what function was gained, and which was lost. The question was, what did they intend to mutate? This wasn’t an anomaly that spawned out of the air and existed just because its will was stronger than the universe’s. No. The genetic structure, this enzyme, this Collector…it all pointed to being created. And to be created, you need a creator.
We were the creators.
“Working hard, or hardly working?” Owen asked, making me jump from my own fright, “Easy, Doctor…you’re always so jumpy around me.”
Yeah, maybe if he wasn’t some lunatic asshole, I’d feel more comfortable around him.
“Please leave my lab, Owen. I’m busy,” I scowled slightly.
“I heard about Rok. Shame. At least he won’t be another gravestone to add to your graveyard. Sounds like he’ll make a full recovery,” Owen tsked, “Sorry for the bad news. I know how much you hate him, even if he’s the only one idiotic enough to put his life on the line to save you.”
I clenched my fist, “How many screws did they put in the right side of your fucking jaw? Seven and a plate? Keep bothering me, Owen, and I’ll ensure Damien puts at least ten on the other side.”
“He does that again, your little essay to Milithreat higher ups won’t be enough to save him, again,” Owen laughed, “He can try and silence me all he wants, so can you.”
“And how is that talkative mouth working? You’ve won over any hearts and minds yet, Owen?” I retorted.
“If you think I meant that literally, you’re as dumb as you are ugly. I can make subtle changes that will ruin your life’s work here, Deveraux. Little changes, like pushing a rock off a hill until it becomes a landslide, all to cover up your work. All at the orders of those with more power than you could ever dream of, Jack.”
My mind went to the day Damien and I had snuck out into the Sioc, how a speeding bike went by, alerting us it had been Owen. A few days later, a Magistrate was dead?
District Seven’s assassin was in front of me this entire time. He was right here, pretending to be some loudmouth idiot when in reality he was just as dangerous (if not more) than I assumed him to be. And while they were all chasing leads into District Three, they weren’t bothering to look here. Hell, even Damien didn’t know…maybe he assumed but he didn’t hint at it. I had to at least let him know.
Owen could see me putting the pieces together, only smirking.
“You think you know it all, huh Doctor?” he grinned delightfully.
“I don’t. And anyone who thinks they do have no thirst for knowledge, only power. What I do know is,” I approached him, my hand gliding my leg towards my knife, “whatever plans you have, they will fail. And you will die.”
“Ooh,” he chuckled, delighted in my spite, “By your hands…or Rok’s?”
I think again, he knew I wasn’t in any position to threaten him myself. I could kill, I knew that. But I wouldn’t give this bastard the death he deserved. Only one man could do that.
“When you’re bleeding out, you’re going to wish it had been me,” I whispered with venom.
The tent flap opened from behind, Grimes clearing his throat.
“Everything alright here?” Grimes asked, his hand slowly lingering to his pistol.
“Of course, boss. Just checking in on the Doctor’s fine work,” Owen pulled away with a smile. But even I could see that smile twitch, faltering against his resolve. No. I couldn’t give him what he deserved. I don’t know if my moral compass would allow it. But I knew there was someone who could, someone who’s deliverance of justice was more than divine.
Owen left, Grimes watching his path of direction before turning back to me. Without his helmet on now, his eyes and face were softer than earlier, in fact he almost looked a bit worried.
“Sorry that he was bothering you,” Grimes apologized, “And…sorry for the words exchanged earlier.”
“I’m sorry too,” I nodded, “I suppose adrenaline can make me a downright bitch.”
He laughed at that, “Adrenaline and passion make a man protective. A woman? Shouldn’t make her a bitch. Just means you are just as protective and passionate as he is.”
An awkward pause lingered between us before he smiled.
“Also, he’s awake and asking to see you. That’s why I came here,” he pointed out. I perked up slightly at that, just wanting to make sure he was alright. I nodded, dropping my things and securing the lab tent before following. The Camp was even quieter now than before. The Collector, who’s status was still unknown, had scared a lot more people shitless. Most liked to stay in their tents for now until ordered.
Which meant getting into Damien’s tent easier, even if Grimes was the one escorting.
Damien was in his cot, gauze wrapped around his shoulder and chest with a few sporadic patches around his neck and backside. He immediately rose up at the sight of me.
“Thanks, Grimes,” Damien smiled.
“No problem, I’ll give you two some time,” Grimes nodded, leaving the tent before locking that as well, making sure nobody else could enter without the code. That was certainly private enough indeed.
I grabbed the nearest stool, residing next to Damien as head level as I could, “Are you okay?”
“Of course I’m okay. Full recovery. Stimuli and the other fancy tools at Garcia’s disposal will have these scars gone in a week’s time. Bones probably three weeks,” he explained, soon seeing my worry, “it’s just a hairline fracture in my arm from the fall. I’ll be fine.”
“I know that you’ll be fine, but are you in pain?” I clarified, moving my hand to run through his short hair, thumb brushing that semi-wrinkled forehead of his.
“I’ve got a really high pain tolerance, no thanks to Sabbath. All those burns felt like a mere tickle. Sad thing is it did burn a lot of my chest hair.”
He laughed at that, again.
“What a shame…” I couldn’t help but faintly smile, “Can I get you anything? Food? Water? Whiskey?”
“No,” he shook his head, smiling back at my helpfulness, “I’ve got everything I need for now.”
“Okay,” I whispered, my eyes watching him to see if there was a facade. He didn’t have to be strong for me, appear with a false front at how he was truly feeling. But Grimes was right. He was a soldier, a remarkable one at that, who’s probably been in worse situations than this.
“Although I do have one request…” he hummed, moving his healthy arm over to run through my hair, “can you remove your mask?”
“Why?” I raised a brow, although I knew the answer.
“So I can ask you to kiss me until I’m better,” he shrugged.
“I thought you had a pretty high pain tolerance…” I teased, seeing him smirk. I took the mask off, inhaling that very faint smell of medical supplies. I don’t know why hospitals and medical gear always had that rancidly clean smell. I never liked it. Always reminded me of waking up with scars all over my body. But for Damien, I’d endure that.
I leaned down, kissing his lips with eager softness. I didn’t know how to express my worry or concern, not without truly admitting my feelings. I suppose a kiss would have to do. His fingers were light into my hair, his other hand slowly sneaking its way to my hip, encouraging me to get in the cot with him.
“Damien…you’re hurt,” I whispered against his lips, feeling his lips inch back up to kiss mine, as if not wanting them to part for too long.
His tongue brushed against mine, making that warm, intimate tingle between my legs ignite. Damn him. Fucking damn him. He couldn’t stop kissing me, and honestly, I couldn’t pull away either. I never had the power to do so when it came to him.
“That’s never stopped me before,” he smirked against my lips, “use my body as a vessel for your pleasure. And such will please me.”
“That is no way to treat a hero,” I shook my head, slowly crawling into the cot. I remained very careful, not wanting any form of my weight to crush him or press against sensitive wounds.
“I’m no hero, Jacqueline,” he retorted.
“We could have easily fought that Collector, instilled more chaos than what happened. But you knew that could have gotten the rest of us hurt. You lured that thing to let us get to the door. That is heroic…and also fucking stupid.”
My hands caressed his face, kissing him with soft fervor as I was now the one afraid he was fragile, at least physically. He didn’t seem to mind, removing us away from our usually fast paced, lustful acts of hard and deep thrusts. We had to trade it for something far gentler today.
“Well, I can think of one way to thank you…” I whispered, kissing him one last time before removing my lips. Hands trailed down his body, purposefully avoiding any parts wrapped up or secured by bandages, only feeling his hot skin, and lack of hair. But upon doing so, he elicited a soft groan and it wasn’t from pleasure.
“I’m fine,” he responded immediately. There was need in his eyes, but also uncertainty.
I suppose one could argue we were using sex as a tool to remove ourselves. Maybe Damien was right, thinking there was this world that didn’t exist in front of our eyes. We could only enter and experience it in a moment like this, bodies joined together in more than just sweat and moans. There was an ethereal realm when we were together, a place where time and space ceased to exist. Worries of anathemas and enzymes, pestilence and war, did not exist when joined together. Same with the pain.
But we couldn’t always ignore that.
“If me being here is going to tempt you, Damien-”
“No. Jack, please stay,” he whispered, “just stay, and we can talk. Save the romantics for later.”
“Later for when you get better,” I corrected him, slowly moving back up to lay at his side. His good arm moved to caress me, his touch not so lustful now, just gentle.
“Have you talked to Angie recently?” he asked me.
“A week or so ago,” I nodded.
“How’s she doing?”
“Same as always…”
“What’s she doing again?” he asked, although he had never asked before.
“Nursing, for the Refugee Program,” I answered.
“Really?! I thought you said she studied….uh,” he paused for a moment, trying to remember, “neuroscience?”
“Yeah, you’re right. She and I got our PhDs around the same time. Her thesis was on "The Cognitive Neuroscience of Empathy - the Orbitofrontal Cortex,” I remembered her presentation, “It was really nice.”
“And you wrote yours on…hold on, I still got meds in my system,” he laughed, “The Assessment of Violence - Analyzing Patterns in a Society That Does Not Benefit the People.”
My heart warmed that he had remembered it…remembered that, and knowing that I never told him about it. He must have looked it up on his own. Whether he read it was one thing. That alone was an achievement. Understanding it though, couldn’t fault him for that.
“Yeah. Yeah that was mine,” I smiled softly, attempting to hide my face into his chest.
“So how does a neuroscientist become a nurse?” he asked me.
“Well, she only worked for about a year at SBH, then six months for our family business. Which, well, given what I know now, I’m not surprised she left. She hated it. Hated even more that she was around our mother. That little, gleeful, compassionate woman I knew was fading away and she knew it too. She told me she was going to join nursing school and that nothing was going to stop her.”
“Huh, sounds like someone else I know…” he teased, his hand sneaking under my shirt to rest on my skin, warming each other up.
“So, she did, against my parent’s dismay. Even worse, she was top of the class. Top of the class gets to pick where they want to go. They could go anywhere they wanted if there was an opening. She walked right up to the dean and announced to everyone that she wanted to go where nobody else wanted. She wanted to go where the most help was needed, and didn't care about the risks.”
“Hence the Refugee Program…”
“Mhm. Everyone warned her against it. She loved it. She loves it…” I corrected myself.
“She’s not on Colony 999 is she…?” Damien asked with concern, my heart stopping for a moment.
“Why do you ask?” I looked at his chest.
“I mean, that’s like really dangerous. That’s the worst of the worst, you know? Refugee terrorists and stuff…”
So, did he not know what happened?
“No. No. She’s on 989. A lot of them were veterans in Sabbath’s wars,” I lied.
“Oh, good. I’d like her as my nurse,” he smirked.
“Oh, sure you would…” I rolled my eyes at that, “She’s a beautiful woman-”
Damien silenced me with another kiss, as if just the very talk of uplifting someone else, meant to downgrade myself, was forbidden in his presence. I curled into his kiss, knowing I only felt…I only felt normal when with him. The scars never phased him... the having to medicate them didn’t bother him either, and he was more often than not asking to help in the mornings we spent together.
“We get off this hellhole…I’m taking you on a date,” Damien mumbled with a smile.
“A date?” I asked, “I’m quite terrified at what Damien Rok thinks is a quality date.”
“Hm, let’s see…” he took my challenge, “Start the day off making you breakfast. No coffee though. A nice parfait and eggs. We go to Coffee of Colours, get you a nice spiced vanilla latte. After that, we take a nice morning ride to the mountains, escape that neon city and go for a nice climb. Lunch is a picnic at the peak, oh, and I also snuck flowers into the basket. Hope you don’t mind.”
“I do like flowers, actually,” I smiled, blushing slightly. This date sounded great already.
“What type?” he asked.
“All of them. I suppose I’d want you to take a look at them and find which ones remind you of me,” I shrugged.
“Okay…” he nodded, “We finish the hike, head back, take a nice shower and clean up for dinner. I make you dinner, a real steak dinner. Dinner and lobster with a bottle of wine. Dessert is also a tiramisu.”
“That sounds like a lot of work, Damien,” I laughed, thinking he was a bit in over his head, “What about things you want to do? Like go to a football game or lounge away watching sports all day?”
“What do you mean? I’d like to do those things with you. I’d love to cook for you,” he frowned slightly, “It doesn’t sound like a good date, does it?”
I laughed, kissing his lips to stop myself from teasing him, “It sounds like a wonderful date. Although, when’s the sex?”
“Who says we need to have sex?” he questioned, which subtly proved my worst fear wrong. Him saying that, instead of him saying that with all that effort of the day that I owed him that…meant I was more than just a body to him. I was more than just someone who gave him attention. We were more than that to each other.
“We don’t…but it’s nice,” I pointed out, seeing him smirk.
“Well, there’s the shower. Or after dinner, making love-”
“Making love?” I gasped to tease him, seeing him blush this time.
“Oh shut up…” he rolled his eyes, both of us laughing.
Yeah, that date sounded really nice. It was nice because it wasn’t real. The nicest thoughts were the purest of imaginations, imaginary outcomes derived from the most miserable, horrible of experiences. The only way to even remotely experience an outcome like that required getting out of this place.
I wouldn’t leave without answers.
I didn’t know what Damien needed to leave.
I just knew that the chances of both of us getting out of here unscathed were small…very small. But a chance was still a chance.