Chattering voices fill the air around me as I cross my arms and tap my foot. Thankfully, Marcel was all too willing to share what we’d discovered, so I didn’t have to talk much about it. As word spreads, people continue to pour into town square.

There are a dozen people here more able than I to lead, and plenty of people whose decisions will be sound. This is out of my hands, and that takes a burden from my chest. Still, I can’t help the instinct to try to comfort the scared citizens. I try to remind them that we don’t know the strangers’ intentions, or convince them that those people likely don’t want to fight either.

Instead, though, I stay silent and drop my eyes. I have lost my resolve. The old me is dead. I’m not a motivational speaker – I’m a humble farmer. Finally, a confident voice does speak up, silencing the crowd with the first syllable.

“Calm down, everyone,” Danny Cunningham orders. When we established our town, we tried to avoid a government structure at all. I think all of us are too afraid to try to replicate the Council. No one knows how to lead if they weren’t doing it right – and we’re all terrified of somehow causing another war. At least, that’s my reasoning.

Nonetheless, I have been able to see a Council slowly forming among us. The guards look to Danny for direction. As much as I try to avoid it, the farmers and ranchers turn to me. I don’t mind it, because it’s often simply for knowledge on various crops. However, over time, they’ve started asking me to make more and more decisions. It’s almost like they’ve all forgotten what happened.

The chefs also have Valerie as their leader – but that makes sense. A group of chefs can’t all operate independently and efficiently. Still, as each group starts to elect their leaders, I’m worried they’ll start to push us into a new Council. If Dante couldn’t keep everyone satisfied, I have no idea how I – or anyone else – will be able to do it. Giving one group too much power will always result in failure.

Of course, trying to divide the power too much also works against the group. Without Danny’s powerful presence, the citizens would likely have simply spiraled into panic. Perhaps we do need someone in charge – and perhaps that should be Danny. Whatever the case, I know I’m unqualified to make that decision. One way or another, it’s going to have to come from someone else.

“I have heard no new information today,” Danny continues. “We all knew there were people outside the wall. Sure, most of them are living inside now, but we never had any reason to believe they’d all migrated. We also have no reason to believe they’re violent.”

“They killed our sheep,” Stephanie argued.

“Perhaps they were hungry,” Danny smiled.

“Then they’re thieves!” Someone called from the crowd. “Who’s to stop them from coming here and stealing everything else?”

“That’s what the guards are for,” Danny sighs. It’s too late. I can feel the dissention stirring in the crowd. He’s lost them. People start to argue with one another and once again start talking over Danny. Guards rally for him, but the other citizens disregard their comments as well. Hours ago, we were all friends in a well-functioning society. All it took to derail that was the sight of a potential threat.

The Council never would have let this happen. Even in the face of imminent death, they were composed. It’s becoming rapidly clear to me that a structure with no government works only as long as the group can make decisions. When a quick decision regarding people’s safety must be made, there is no time for deliberation. Someone has to rise up and comfort the frightened. They need a voice – someone to trust.

“Lance,” Danny interjects, cutting me off from my thoughts. Somehow, he’d navigated through the crowd and ended up right at my side. Thankfully, he knows me well enough to avoid physical contact when he startles me. I flinch and step back, but he’s too far for me to accidentally attack. “A little help here?”

“What do you want me to do?” I mutter.

“What you’re best at, I think,” he laughs.

“I can’t help you,” I snap. The voices seem to be growing louder and blending into a massive buzzing. For some reason, the light of the sun becomes more intense by the second. My breaths are shallow, but I can’t force my lungs to hold anything more. People are going to die and there’s nothing I can do to stop it. If I don’t interject, people may start to flee, but that will only put them in danger. Either we stay here and risk getting killed or uproot everything and start over, which will make us lose people as well. I thought I’d lived through my last war, but that camp proved to me that there will always be another battle. Why is the light so bright? I close my eyes, trying to get a brief respite from the sun. Desperately, I try to stabilize my breathing and convince myself to focus on one problem at a time, but my brain continues to make every imaginable tie to the war. Through my closed eyes, I can see Carson’s arm pouring toward the capital. I watch my friends die all over again and I know I can’t stop it. I hear their screams rising over the buzz of voices in my ears.

Then, suddenly, it’s all gone.

“Lance,” Danny whispers gently. Slowly, hesitantly, I open my eyes to see his face. I’m lying down, but the surface beneath me is far too soft to be the stone. The light is also dimmed, and the voices have been muted. Somehow, I’m inside.

“Where am I?” I choke.

“You’re home,” he responds calmly.

“How?”

“You fainted,” he whispers. “I told everyone it was heat stroke, so they’ll probably be reminding you to drink a lot of water for the next few days.”

Danny stands up, leaving my bedside and walking to the window. I watch him smile and give a thumbs-up to someone on the other side. Then he turns back toward me and leans against the wall. There is a sadness behind his smile I recognize too well.

“They really trusted us, didn’t they?” Danny chuckles.

“Who?”

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“The Council.”

Danny can see through me, and it’s exhausting. Of course, I don’t think I’ve been doing a good job hiding my emotions. Since the formation of this town, I’ve carefully avoided any leadership roles. However, with the presence of this other group, it’s bringing everything back to the surface. I’m scared and helpless, but I can’t let anyone else know that.

“They made us feel special. We were meant to be their replacements. But we weren’t commanders, Lance. We were soldiers. We followed their orders and nothing more.”

“And we weren’t strong enough,” I stammer.

“No. No we weren’t. We’ll always live with that. Everyone here will, but especially you and me. We were supposed to be the strongest.”

I don’t know if he thinks he’s helping, but he’s not. I assume there’s a point to his ramblings, but he may just be trying to commiserate. Danny is a great person, but he isn’t the first I’d turn to for any type of emotional support. Actually, on second thought, I think he is. That’s probably why I haven’t sought any out.

“This isn’t that,” he assured me.

“It could be.”

“It isn’t. History doesn’t repeat itself, Lance. That’s just something people tell themselves because humans have an obsession with patterns.” As he speaks, Danny steps off the wall and moves toward me, holding his arm out in front of him. He turns each of his fingers into a blade of different thickness in no particular order. “We want to see things repeat. We can’t make sense of randomness, so we pretend it isn’t real. Yet sometimes, there is no pattern.”

“I don’t get it,” I laugh sadly.

“History is history, Lance. We’re here now – and that’s what matters. Right now, we decide our future. Nothing repeats if we say it doesn’t.”

“I couldn’t stop it then,” I counter.

“Well, I doubt you’ll be fighting another Carson Adachi. If you were, you’d be more prepared. And you know what – maybe you’d lose. Even if you do, the story will be different. You can’t keep living the same one.”

“I can’t stop living it.”

“Neither can I,” he admits, sitting back down beside me. Together, we sit in silence for a few minutes. I don’t know what else to tell him, but I appreciate his presence. Danny is the only other person in the world who truly understands what I’m feeling. We all experienced the war – and we all lost friends and family – but Danny was Class I. He and I were supposed to be the heroes of the next generation, and we failed. With him, I feel like I can be myself – even if that is broken.

“I’m going to talk to them,” Danny finally tells me.

“No, you can’t!” I argue, shooting up in bed. A wave of dizziness washes over me and I have to lean back against the headboard. I also feel nauseas, but I hope it will pass. Still, it’s enough to keep me from detailing my argument before Danny cuts me off.

“It will be better if we approach them. Then, we can try to establish peaceful communication. If they are violent, I’d rather know now than when they show up at our doorstep.”

“You’re going alone?” I choke.

“It would be a lot better if you could come with me,” he admits. I freeze up. I want to support him, but I’ll only drag him down. I shake my head and drop my eyes.

“I don’t need you to talk, just present a united front.”

“I can’t, Danny.”

“We can get through this together.”

“I can’t!” I cry. Tears well up in my eyes, so I press them tightly shut in shame. Still, the water forces its way through the corners. I hear Danny stand before I feel his hand on my back.

“It’s okay, Lance. I’ll keep everyone safe. I promise.”

I try to stop him, but he disappears before I can stop heaving. My teeth chatter as my brain starts to throw accusations at me. I know I’m weak – even after all of the training I went through. I can’t protect anyone. I can barely even function myself. Now, as Danny rushes into danger alone, I can only picture his broken body when Carson left him for dead. He and I only escaped that battlefield because we blended in with the corpses.

Trying to force away any thought, I drag myself out of bed. Trudging to the mirror, I can barely see myself in the darkness. Still, I stare into my eyes and ground myself. This is who I am now – the old me is dead. Those memories aren’t mine – they’re nothing more than stories I’ve heard which now float around in my mind. Lance Quill died that day. That’s the only way I can move forward.

My legs feel weak beneath me and I’m lightheaded. I know the heat stroke is nothing more than a story Danny told the citizens to protect me, but I’m starting to believe it myself. I can’t remember the last time I’ve eaten either. I need to take care of myself – and as long as I have a task I can stop myself from thinking.

Leaning on every available wall for support, I make my way to the kitchen. First, I pour myself a glass of water and drink it too fast. After my stomach settles from the sudden influx of fluid, I start gathering ingredients from the refrigerator. I have a few more pieces of steak, and I think the protein will help restore strength to my muscles. Cooking steak alone will be too easy, though. I need something in which I can lose myself.

As I start searching the kitchen for various spices, I realize I don’t need to use anything to support me as I stand. My mind is blank as I heat up oil in a pain and start combining ingredients. Cooking is an art as much as anything else, and it demands my concentration.

The last rays of the setting sun vanish into the depths of night, and time passes smoothly for the first time in a while. Selfish as it is, I don’t even feel concerned about Danny. I’m avoiding thinking about it. All that matters right now is the meal I’m preparing.

Of course, that only lasts as long as it takes me to cook. My brain resumes its typical job of beating me to a pulp as soon as I turn off the heat. Before I even have time to make myself a plate, my stomach is churning once again and I’m not sure I’ll be able to keep a meal down. For my health, though, I have to try.

A few bites into my steak, I hear a commotion outside. Worried, I rush to my window and peek outside. In the light of the streetlamps, I see a shadowy figure racing into the middle of town. I try to squint and get a better view, but it’s too dark. Judging by his outline, though, it’s quite clear that Danny’s returning. He’s transformed his legs in order to allow for more mobility.

I hope he’s returning with good news, but my paranoid mind refuses to accept it. His speed implies, to my broken brain, that he’s running from someone. I look behind him, fully expecting to see an army in pursuit. Thankfully, he’s alone. If it weren’t for the scent of blood permeating my closed window, I would have believed he hadn’t had any problems creating peace with the Outsiders.

Instead, though, every negative outcome vies for dominance. I try to convince myself he’d simply had an altercation with a Beast. Of course, I should have been there with him, and I can beat myself up for that later. However, he is a capable young man and he clearly escaped alive. When he reaches the light, I see that my theory is invalidated. Though he’s covering the wound on one side, I see an open hole through his shoulder.

I see Danny crawling on the ground outside of the capital, all of his limbs broken. Desperately, he claws at the ground with one arm which barely reacts to his brain’s signals. His face is covered in blood and one of his eyes is swollen shut. Rapidly, I blink, but I start having trouble determining which is the real Danny – the one on the street or the one in my mind. There’s nothing I can do to help him. I’m not a doctor. I’ll only get in the way.

He needs help, though.

I step away from my mirror. I have to help him. He’d do the same for me. I have to go outside and help him. I’ll bring him to the hospital and they can take care of him. There are people trained for this. I take another step backward, but I can’t pull my eyes from Danny. I just have to get out there and help him. For some reason, though, my legs won’t move. They’re frozen beneath me.

“Come on, Lance,” I beg myself, but my body refuses. It shuts down and my legs buckle. Sliding against the bedframe, I drop to the ground. I pull my knees to my chest and drop my head onto them.

“I’m sorry, Danny,” I cry. Just like in Sanctuary, I’m useless. There’s nothing I can do to change that. I’m a failure. Danny’s wrong – history does repeat itself. No matter how much I try to stop it, and no matter how much I try to run from myself, this is who I’ll be.