* * *

Sarah woke up with a start, hand raising as if she could stop the bullet.

Something small and a lot less lethal hit her square in the forehead. Robyn laughed, tossing the next piece of popcorn into her mouth instead of at her sister.

Sarah caught her breath, completing the motion with her hand to brush the imaginary stain on her forehead. Robyn only laughed harder.

Mom shushed her, pointing at the TV. Robyn clasped a hand over her mouth, but wasn’t able to stifle her laughter.

“We’ve already watched this movie,” her sister complained when she got shushed again.

“But I like this part,” Mom said.

Sarah sat there while her mind pulled away from the dream, returning to the moment. But had it been a dream? She hadn’t been asleep just now. She couldn’t possibly have been sleeping sitting up.

The heat started to bother her. Mom and Robyn seemed fine. Should she get her fan from the room? She shifted uncomfortably, pulling at her shirt collar.

“Not that one! Idiot!” Robyn threw a piece of popcorn at the screen.

“That makes three,” Mom said from the other end of the couch.

Robyn popped another piece into her mouth. “Actually, it makes four. I threw the first one at Sarah before we even got started.”

“As long as you remember to pick them up before your Dad steps on them.”

Robyn was still laughing when she turned to Sarah. “Hey, you still with us?”

Sarah blinked at her sister, trying not to flinch when the memory—no, the dream—came to the forefront again. “Sorry, I was thinking.”

Robyn offered her the popcorn bowl. Sarah shook her head, reaching for her glass of water instead. Her throat felt dry. She frowned down at the floor. The glass wasn’t there.

Pulling her hair back, she tied it into a makeshift knot. The fan definitely needed to come out. She got up, but she’d barely taken a step when the air got stuck in her throat.

Her eyes were burning, and she couldn’t breathe. Wheezing and coughing, she hurried to the kitchen for a glass of water, anything to wash away whatever was stuck in her throat.

“Are you alright?” Dad asked, following her into the kitchen.

She nodded, not finding a voice with which to reply—assuming the coughing would let her.

“If you choke, you’re going to ruin the movie for the rest of us,” Robyn said.

Their voices combined with the TV and became random patterns in the background, unintelligible words strung together in equally unintelligible sentences.

There was something in the distance, crying, screaming…

She didn’t remember anyone crying in this movie.

Her skin was so hot.

The air itself felt warm and constricting.

She couldn’t breathe.

She had barely poured half a glass of water before she pressed the cool glass against her chest, then her neck. She needed to cool down.

Still the coughing didn’t subside.

Her vision was blurry and the world around her was immersed in fog—no, not fog, she realized numbly.

Smoke.

Fires had smoke.

* * *

Sarah opened her eyes, sitting up as she coughed. The photo album, which had been balancing on her lap, fell to the ground.

She bolted to her feet, catching the tablet as it too slipped off the couch.

The coughing lessened somewhat, the burning in her throat only a distant memory, part of the dream as much as the movie and popcorn. She couldn’t even remember what they’d been watching.

Her eyes were watering. She drank the rest of her water and another full glass, but it didn’t help. Maybe if she got some milk or something more soothing.

It was too late—or too early—for the cafeteria to be running. She wasn’t sure she remembered how to get to the actual kitchen, but the more she tried not to focus on her dry, sore throat, the more it bothered her. So off she went.

Her path took her past Pegasus’ room, but she couldn’t tell if his light was on. They’d all been keeping some odd hours lately because the last two missions turned into all-nighters. From what she’d heard, Pegasus’ internal clock was more opposed to the idea than her non-functioning one.

Looking like the victim of some freak outbreak of tuberculosis, Sarah coughed her way along the halls, fully expecting to get lost at least twice. She didn’t.

By the time she reached the kitchen, however, the cough had subsided. Choking on a piece of imaginary popcorn will do that.

She stopped at the doorway, waiting for her eyes to adjust to the dim lighting inside the kitchen. No one would be happy if she stumbled onto a pile of pots and pans and woke up the entire compound.

Sarah had hoped to find someone working there; she’d assumed this entire place ran on shifts around the clock. Still, she was incredibly surprised that she found the place, empty as it may be.

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“Hey.”

Sarah took a startled step back, almost choking on a breath for real this time.

A small light came on under some cabinets.

Pegasus was sitting on the counter in the near dark with a sandwich in his hands.

“You scared the hell out of me.” He really should fix that habit.

He reached behind him to turn on a couple more lights. “Looks like you found your way to the kitchen easily enough. Most newbies don’t figure it out until their third or fourth month.”

“I thought this place was empty.”

“Pretty much until they start prepping breakfast.” He glanced over at the wall clock. “In 23 minutes.”

She laughed.

“Couldn’t sleep?”

“Just felt like a glass of milk.” She still wanted one despite the coughing and soreness in her throat being gone. “You?”

“Lost track of time, didn’t realize I’d missed dinner until my stomach forced me awake.” He pointed to a cabinet across from her. “Cups.”

“Got anything good over there?”

“Grilled grilled cheese sandwich.”

She cocked an eyebrow.

He shrugged, taking a bite out of said sandwich. “Grill every part of the whole, and then the whole.”

She looked around, unsure if she wanted the milk now. Massive refrigerators and freezers lined the far wall.

“How are you adjusting?” He frowned. “Or should it be readjusting?”

“I don’t know. I was here before, but I wasn’t really here.”

“How are you settling in then?”

Sarah shrugged, feeling like a cheap imitation of him. He was the one who shrugged everything off. She stared at the empty cup cradled in her hands, considering telling him about the dreams and the almost constant thought of her sister.

Faced with his expectant expression, the words were ready to come out of her mouth, but she swallowed them back.

His presence evoked a familiar sort of comfort she’d been struggling with while she’d been away at the academy. The doubts regarding his motives for approaching her and repeatedly reaching out to her didn’t feel real now. And that in itself troubled her.

Fearing he’d see all those thoughts on her face, she turned away. “I’ll catch you later.”

Pegasus didn’t reply. He was probably used to her avoiding his attempts at a lengthier conversation by now. Contradictory as it may be, she almost wished he weren’t.

Sarah wandered back to the elevator, but when her hand hovered above the panel, she found she didn’t want to go back to her room.

She changed course, following her steps as if she had no control over her own feet. Only when she came to a set of familiar large doors did she stop.

Of course this is where she’d come. With a smile, she slowly pushed the doors open, afraid there would be someone there. She shouldn’t have worried.

Pegasus hadn’t been the only familiarity she’d been avoiding. Maybe she hadn’t wanted to be reminded that there could be good memories in this place as well. And there had been.

She let the doors close behind her, drawing in a deep breath. The garden didn’t look any different from what she remembered. The books could have been moved, but she doubted it. She would swear the chess board was in exactly the same place as well. The pieces were there, playing their eternal game. A lonely black knight was charging forward amidst a sea of angry pawns, each king and queen carefully hidden away, safe—for now.

She stepped off the path, drawn to the tree that could have very well have been the one in her yard. A smile blossomed before she noticed it. Placing her hand on its trunk, she closed her eyes. The trees very presence soothed her, her own private connection to the life she had before, the home she missed, and the people she loved who were no longer there.

She pressed her forehead against the tree trunk, inhaling the earthy scent.

The soft click of the door closing snapped her out of it. She hadn’t heard it open.

Footsteps drew near.

She knew she’d gotten away too easily.

“I had a feeling I’d find you here,” Pegasus said.

Smiling, Sarah turned to face him. “I’m sure the security cams had nothing to do with it.”

He sat down on the nearest bench. “Didn’t need them this time.”

She joined him on the bench, frowning at the plastic container he was carrying.

He removed the lid, offering her the container. “For old time’s sake.”

Sarah chuckled when she saw the contents—three slices of cold pizza. “You know you don’t have to do this, right?”

“I know.” He grabbed a slice before she could pull the container away. “Is this you telling me to get lost?”

She hesitated at that. Did she want him gone?

“No.” Besides, she doubted he’d listen. “Just saying you don’t have to babysit me.”

“Not what I’m doing.”

She settled back in her seat, grabbing a slice.

Surrounded by a comfortable silence, Sarah ate her cold pizza while looking out at the trees as if enjoying a lazy day at the park. She didn’t mind his company at all. It felt nice.

It was so easy falling back into the familiarity they’d had before. If for him this was a product of automatically extending the friendship he’d had with her sister towards her, what was the explanation on her end?

Maybe the feeling of instant rapport wouldn’t bother her so much if it weren’t for the jokes she’d been hearing Robyn make over and over again in that damned recording about how he did a good job getting inside her head.

“If I ask you what’s troubling you, would you tell me?” He didn’t look at her, didn’t even shift in his seat.

Sarah held back a shrug; this time, she would have been mocking him. “Sometimes I still can’t separate it in my head, the girl who tried to kill me from my sister.”

“It’s not so simple when they are two versions of the same person.”

“I’m not sure I’ll ever have it completely separate. Maybe I’ll just go crazy. Or maybe this is me having lost my mind already. You could be a figment of my imagination for all I know.”

He tore the remaining slice of pizza in half. “Your imagination is very hungry.”

“I don’t think my imagination can be blamed for that.” She grabbed the last half, resisting the urge to remove the olives.

She took a giant bite and mulled over what to tell him as she chewed. Was this conversation like these olives that she’d rather not have?

She slid further in her seat, staring at the half-eaten slice of pizza in her hand. “It’s weird. I don’t feel like she’s been gone that long. I feel like I lost her just the other day. Sometimes, when I wake up, I have to remember that she’s not here anymore, that none of them are. It should get easier, but it hasn’t so far.”

He took a deep breath as if preparing to say something.

She pointed at him with the pizza. “Don’t tell me to go talk to Athena.”

“How often have you been listening to the recordings?”

“Not that often.” Though she could probably recite that conversation while running laps around the compound. But the recordings weren’t solely to blame. The nightmares should claim their share of the responsibility.

He looked like he didn’t believe her. “You shouldn’t keep doing that to yourself.”

“It’s her voice, even if it’s not really her.”

“If it’s a memory you want, pick a happier one. That’s what I do.”

Sarah nibbled on the rest of her pizza, watching him expectantly. How many memories did he have of her sister that she had no idea?

“You mentioned having bad dreams last time. Did you know Robyn had trouble sleeping?”

“She told me she’d grown out of that.”

He shook his head.

Another lie her sister had told, even if a simple, purposeless one.

“She wouldn’t admit it, but I could hear her throwing things around in the middle of the night. I think she did it on purpose, our rooms were next to each other back then.”

Sarah didn’t doubt it. When they were younger, Robyn used to have outbursts in the middle of the night sometimes when she couldn’t sleep.

“I think it was my fault for pounding on the wall one day to quiet her down.” He laughed. “She started pounding on the wall as if she was trying to use it for morse code. When that obviously didn’t work, she showed up at my door and we’d talk until she fell asleep or I couldn’t hold on anymore.” Any trace of a smile vanished from his face. “We should have seen it wasn’t her. I should have seen it. I’m so sorry.”

Caught off guard by the shift in subject, Sarah evaded his gaze. Loss encircled her heart and squeezed, but the anger was long gone. It had washed out of her with countless tears. “You couldn’t have known. She was almost perfect.”

“Almost. But I should’ve known better.”

“I don’t blame you.” Not that she hadn’t. But most of all, she blamed herself. Despite her mind arguing that she could never have guessed her sister was dead without knowing about the parallel world, her heart wasn’t convinced. Who should have recognized something was wrong with her sister if not her? “It’s not your fault.”

Pegasus let out a long breath as if her words had relieved him of a terrible burden.

Wait. Did he think she’d been blaming him this entire time? Had he thought that was why she hadn’t answered his messages for the past months?

The possibility of it being that way made her feel a little guilty. She was still deciding if she should say something about it when he spoke again.

“I imagine this place will bring back a lot of memories.” There he went, changing subjects again. “It might never be easy being here.”

That wasn’t what she’d been hoping to hear, but she already suspected as much.

“You fell down a rabbit hole, but you can still climb back up if that’s what you want.”

“Can I?”