07

Crossroads

----------------------------------------

Lunar Day 3, First Year of the Exodus.

Sitting in his own private room, John was concerned for his fellow crew members. It had been three days since they were deposited on the surface of the Moon, and while things were starting to move forward with respect to their situation, John was not blind to the consequences of past events. Davidson was still trying to adjust to being the one in charge of their group following Marlon's death. He was not the most sociable person, and John had some doubts about his ability to hold it together at one time, but he seems to be doing fine right now, and he had the support of Ship Commander Miradima to get through the trials he now faced.

This was more than Helen now had. The one person she had staked her emotional support needs on was now dead. She was now without her own life partner, and it had taken it's toll on her psyche.

Any idiot could see that.

Since Davidson and Miradima had materialized on the surface three days ago, and delivered the news that everyone in their small group had never expected to hear, Helen had withdrawn from all contact with anyone, choosing instead to isolate herself in a small room that was situated as far from any connecting zones as possible. No-one was likely to need to go to it, and the only people that might choose to do so would be those that had need to talk to her, or who had ulterior motives for traversing that section of the complex, such as thieves or those looking for trouble. Despite isolating herself from everyone and refusing to speak with any of the others, Helen still had the protection of the guard.

Miradima had seen to that. While the Tau Cetian guard was deployed within the structure of the sub-lunar base, Helen would not be bothered by anyone without a valid reason to talk to her.

John could see that Miradima was also affected by this. She had known Captain Marlon Greenfield for almost as long as John had known Adam and Caitlin, the other two crew-members who had lost their lives recently. It was clear to John, that Miradima had come to respect the man, and he imagined that she probably felt the loss as keenly as he felt the loss of Adam and Caitlin.

Too many people from their group had died already. He was not going to get through the loss of another. That beating Stephen had taken three days ago was a keen reminder that the situation with the survivors from Earth was still volatile, and that was over a simple misunderstanding.

Don't wanna think about what'll happen if one of them gets offended, John thought to himself.

Stephen was surprisingly handling this far better than John had expected. His friend from the training days on Earth before their launch was a good friend, but John had no idea how he would handle recent events. Stephen had pretty much clammed up at the ominous message that his parents had left him, whatever that was, and he clearly looked like he was suffering PTSD from what he saw coming back to Earth.

This of course was no surprise to John, who was still dealing with his own issues surrounding that revelation. It still kept him awake at night, and probably would for a very long time.

Still, Stephen seemed to find a way to deal with it, and John suspected that Janet Fletcher was partly responsible for that. For all of her brusque and abrasive mannerisms and hot temper, she seemed to be good for him.

Just as Miradima was clearly very good for Davidson.

Just as Adam and Caitlin were good for each other.

Or at least, they would still be, if they were alive.

Helen had no-one. Sure, any one of them in the crew roster would be willing to step up if offered, but that wasn't really the same. None of them were Marlon, and never would be.

In a way, the closest person who might understand the loneliness Helen would no doubt now be feeling was John, but John knew he was definitely not the right person to talk to her about any of this. Apart from anything else, none of John's previous relationships had ended with the death of another. He also had never been involved as intimately as Helen and Marlon had been, having limited his relationships to casual affairs because of his career choice.

Now, it seemed to John, that both their decisions had led to different, yet equally disheartening consequences. John might never have a meaningful relationship like Helen and Marlon did, or like Davidson and Miradima. On the other hand, he also hadn't had his heart torn asunder by losing someone so close to him. It still hurt, but he knew it wasn't that intense.

He couldn't talk to Helen, but someone needed to. As much as he understood her need to grieve privately, their core group also needed to make things happen. Pretty soon, ships would be arriving to move the population to the Tau Ceti system, and Davidson had insisted on making sure that the ground-work was laid down for their foreseeable government structure. Helen was a part of that core group, and to exclude her from the decision-making process would be insulting and disrespectful to her, as well as to Marlon's memory... But she needed to be an active participant.

He stood up and left the room, to go find Helen.

* * *

Janet had just left Stephen to rest in the makeshift infirmary so she could stretch her legs. Used to constant exercise, overseeing a decaying fallout shelter on Earth, the recent period of enforced idleness was beginning to wear thin on her psyche as well as her body. She was feeling stiff, mentally and physically, and needed to exercise to dust the cobwebs off of her mind and body. Yesterday was the first time she had experienced a major injection of anxiety-related chemicals being released into her system, only to have no way to release them effectively since she neither had to flee nor fight an assailant. Recognizing that the tension and anxiety of yesterday's meeting with Davidson was unwarranted, Janet knew she had to find a new physical outlet until she could come to grips with it mentally. Taking off to purge the energies was an idea Stephen had given her, and last night, as well as this morning, she had decided to take his suggestion seriously. She was not yet up to the physical demands of a continuous jog, and those few occasions on the surface she had been forced to run had resulted in physical exhaustion afterwards. She did not like the idea of such a thing happening to her while things were the way they existed at the moment, so she had paced herself, switching from a brisk walk to a light jog, and back again, every minute.

She had just finished a lap around the octagonal central zone near Stephen's infirmary room, when she heard a tense discussion. Ordinarily, she might have ignored said discussion, given her place in this group was currently uncertain, but she recognized both voices, and neither seemed happy with their discussion. She decided to investigate.

"I don't see what the problem is," a male voice called out loudly from behind a closed door.

"There are close to a hundred thousand people in this base, and we need to-"

"Stop telling me what we need to do!" a female voice retorted, her tone strident and loud. It quickly changed to a yell. "I'M NOT STUPID!"

"What the hell, man?" The male voice yelled back, surprised. "I didn't say you were, and you go all hostile on me like that?" there was an ominous pause. "Look, I don't know why the hell you think you need to do this right now."

"Do what?!" the female voice scoffed derisively.

"First, you shut yourself away from everyone who might care about your well-being-"

"No, get out." the female voice yelled again. Clearly, she didn't want anyone touching that particular nerve right now. "I said get out, John!"

"The hell is your problem?" John asked. Janet recalled the tall pilot friend of Stephen from their brief meetings in recent days. Was the other person Helen? Janet recalled that she was apparently the only woman among the original group, and the only one of their group who was shutting herself away from everyone else.

"Who the hell are you to ask me that?"

There was a minute of tense silence, before John replied. "Look... I get it-"

"No, you don't!" Helen yelled again. "You don't get it at all! You've never even been with someone long enough to give a shit about them!"

So that was what this was about, Janet realized. Impulsively, and she would puzzle out why she did this later, she opened the door and stepped quickly inside. The tension in the room was stifling, but Janet was used to constant fear and mistrust in the shelter on Earth. This was nothing by comparison.

"You know, your voices carry," she said quietly, deciding that being abrupt or aggressive would not serve anyone right now. "I heard you when I was on my morning jog."

"You, jogging?" John asked, his tone amused, likely because he thought it would ease tension. He was wrong, of course, but not because Janet was blind to his effort, but because Helen was.

"Don't joke around about that which you don't understand," Helen snapped, but Janet was having none of it.

"I'm more than capable of speaking for myself," she told Helen in a quiet, yet firm voice. "And as you might have noticed, right now, I am keeping a lid on things because there is something more disturbing going on in this room."

John said nothing, which Janet appreciated. "Don't you start," Helen snapped at Janet.

"Watch your tone with me," Janet snapped back. "I'll make it very simple-"

"Don't you dare!"

"Enough!" Janet barked, then said nothing, letting the silence sit there for a few moments. In a far quieter tone, she continued. "You reminded me not so long ago, that manners were something you took seriously."

Helen scoffed. "What do you want?"

"It's not what I want," Janet told her. "It's what everyone needs."

Helen let out a sigh. "Look, I'm tired of all the bullshit right now. Too much has happened lately for me to deal with any more of it."

Making a snap decision, she turned to John. "I need to speak to her alone," she told him.

Royal Road is the home of this novel. Visit there to read the original and support the author.

John's facial features turned to alarm. "I don't-"

"Relax John," Janet told him. "If it'll make you feel better, go summon some of your guards to stand by in case you think I might turn aggressive or whatever, but this is a conversation that needs to happen without anyone else to listen in."

It took him a few moments, but John eventually acquiesced and left the room. Now, it was just Helen and Janet, alone in the room. Janet decided that it was time to lay all of her cards on the table. She began to speak. "Now-"

"You can get out as well," Helen cut her off. "I'm not interested."

Janet took a breath. "Your interest is irrelevant," she replied, borrowing an idiom that she had picked up from Edward recently. "I'm tired of this pity party you've been wallowing in."

The look that Helen gave Janet at that moment would have killed her on the spot if such a thing were possible. "Who are you to tell me that?"

"Someone who has dealt with enough bullshit and hypocrisy to last me a lifetime-"

"Get the fuck out!" Helen snapped, jumping to her feet, her face a mask of fury. "NOW!"

Janet stood her ground. "No," she said quietly. She was about to do something that was more agonizing than anything she had ever done before, and she quietly built up her willpower to do it.

Helen was livid with rage, and she walked right up to Janet, stepping right into her personal space, invading her comfort zone without a care for the consequences. "If you don't turn around and get the fuck out of this room right now, I'm going to tear your head off!"

Janet stood her ground. Something told her that Helen was not a violent person by nature, and that this aggression was purely motivated by her grief and loss. She risked her own health and well being on that presumption as she stayed, unmoving for several seconds, facing the fury on Helen's face, without so much as blinking. With what Janet was planning to do, this was nothing in comparison. "Do you think you're the only one?" she asked, in a whisper, then held her tongue. Waiting for Helen to make a reply was an exercise in patience that she had not needed to engage in for a long time.

"I'm not doing this-" Helen started, about to walk around Janet and step out of the room.

"His name was Simon," Janet said quietly. She hadn't said his name to anyone since he died. Not even Stephen knew that much.

This froze Helen in her tracks. She turned back around to face Janet again. "Don't do this," she pleaded. "I can't deal with that right now."

Janet understood, but she pressed ahead anyway. "I'm not asking you to deal with your loss," she said quietly. "I'm telling you about mine."

"I don't know what-"

"Just listen," Janet said firmly. "I'm telling you about a man who was very close to my heart and the hearts of many of the survivors who are up here with us right now. The least you can do is be polite enough to listen."

"Yeah?" Helen scoffed, in what even Janet suspected was an uncharacteristically uncharitable fashion for her. "I never asked for you to-"

"This isn't for your benefit," Janet said in an almost-whisper. "This is for everyone who has to work with you in the future."

Helen frowned, but said nothing, moving instead to go sit back down. Once she was seated, she asked "what do you mean?"

Janet took the opportunity to sit down herself. "I need you to understand something. If that means I have to tell you something that still cuts at me like a knife to this day, I'll do it. Don't..." Janet pointed directly at Helen, who seemed about to protest. "Just don't. You won't like it but you need to hear it."

Helen's earlier furious expression had lessened to one of irritation now, and she frowned at what Janet had just said. "Fine," she sighed.

"You've met Edward," Janet started. "Has two kids?" She waited for Helen's nod of confirmation. "Well, he once had three. One of them was a man named Simon. Apparently named him after his own father from before the second nuke. I don't know, I wasn't born yet. Anyway, Simon was a tall guy, a lot like Stephen is, but with lighter hair. Far skinnier. Had a weird collection of scars just about everywhere. He was impulsive, care-free, irritatingly cavalier at times..." Janet stopped, letting out a wistful breath, surprised at herself that thinking about the man who had once captured her heart was not as painful as she had expected it to be. "And until recently, a man I loved more than anyone else alive."

"You know, if you're going to..." Helen started, but at the look Janet gave her, she trailed off. Finally, Janet had put up with enough, and so she glared, hard, at Helen, until the other one understood just how far she had pushed.

"Last time," Janet warned in the softest voice she had ever heard herself mutter, before continuing. "Now... He's dead because he refused to give in to scavengers who wanted to steal from our shelter. Someone else was in charge, back then. He didn't send out any patrols to keep an eye on a stockpile we established on the surface, so it was easily picked apart by scavengers. One day, Simon and I were up there, moving supplies to be dropped down into the shelter. Two of them came at us, armed with crossbows and knives to our side-arm and shotgun. A third one we didn't see, snuck up behind us."

This part of the story always distressed Janet, and she could feel a quickening of her pulse, and the effects of fight-or-flight chemicals flooding her body. Her breathing started to shallow and become more rapid.

"Hey," Helen said suddenly, a look of concern on her face. Janet suspected this might happen, but it was worth it, and she needed to get it out.

"No," she stopped Helen. "Give me a minute."

It didn't take quite that long to get control of her breathing again, and soon, her heart rate had slowed again. "Sorry... Thinking about it makes my blood boil and scares the shit outta me at the same time."

"Thinking about what?" Helen prompted after a moment.

Janet let out a deep breath, dispelling the last anxious feelings she had just built up minutes before. "The third had snuck up behind us, managed to kill Simon. I only saw the moment he was on the ground, bleeding out, while the son of a bitch stood over him, gloating about how he had fooled us all. I-" she stopped, swallowing hard. She was determined not to lose it right now, so she closed her eyes for a second. She knew she would need to say the words, but she tried very hard to push the images out of her head. The damage she could do any time she lost her temper was frightening, even to her, and reflecting back on it always made her sick to her stomach. "I killed him. No... I mean I did, but I flew into a rage, and I didn't stop. The first two were already dead. Part of survival on the surface, although killing them bothered me all by itself. The third one, he was a soldier though, from our shelter, and should have known better than to betray us... I still don't know what came over me, but I went crazy. I emptied my pistol at him, then I ran up and stabbed him again and again, until I had nothing left. He was long dead by the time I realized what I had done." Helen said nothing during this time, which Janet was thankful for. "After that... I was a mess. I couldn't function for days. Grief, fear, regret, guilt... I'm still not over it."

Silence descended at that point. Janet was silent because she did not know how to continue this discussion and make her point, Helen because... Well, Janet could only guess. At that point in time, she was staring blankly at a wall, her mind elsewhere.

The silence was broken by a hissing sob. Janet looked over to see Helen had her face buried in her hand, propped up against a crate that served as a makeshift table. "What were the last words you two said to each other?" Helen had asked, her voice breaking.

Janet would never forget. It was trivial conversation, but those words were all she had left of Simon. "He said to me 'I have something I want you to see' while we set up at the supply cache. I asked him what, and he told me it was a surprise." After a deep breath, Janet continued. "The last words he ever said to me were when we had spotted the scavengers approaching the cache. He told me to go left and help him out-flank them. That was it," Janet turned to look at Helen again. "The last words he ever said to me."

The silence that punctuated the end of that statement lasted for at least a minute, though it seemed to Janet to last hours.

"Helen," Helen said in a whisper.

"What?" Janet asked, surprised.

"That was the last word he ever said to me," Helen replied, clearing her throat. "We were in the transport room on the ship you were on before. He had just told me he didn't want me to be in danger." The silence at that statement lingered. "I told him to go, and he called my name to try and get me to talk to him." Janet suspected she knew what was coming, but waited for Helen to tell her directly. "I didn't let him finish whatever he was going to say. I said... 'just go' to him."

Janet took a moment to think through that conversation, as Helen appeared to break down, her head dropping to her arm. Just a few days ago, Janet's reaction would have been rather dismissive, her own people having suffered so much, her own troubles too immediate and too serious a concern.

Not any longer.

Having had the last few days of enforced idleness, she had taken the opportunity to look around her. There were many people milling around the shelter almost constantly. Many of them were her own people, the survivors that had been rescued, plus a few that she was not able to round up while she was on the surface. With them were some groups from other shelters in the North American region. No doubt there were many others among them that came from elsewhere, and they all had one thing in common; adjusting to this new reality and trying to survive the changes to their lives.

Having had this new perspective, Janet had realized at the time, that others' perspectives were just as important as those within her group. Stephen was right when he said that the days of summary justice were over. She had not taken it well at that moment, but reflecting on it now, she understood that it was better this way. Her hot-headedness would not now get away from her when she was forced to stop and think. It was a novel experience for her, but one she embraced.

In this moment, it was clear that Helen was keenly remorseful for not taking the chance to tell Marlon what she really felt when she had the chance to do so. That guilt was ripping her apart from the inside.

"I know it's not the same," Janet said aloud in that moment. "But I spent months blaming myself for not saving Simon."

"What?!" Helen asked after a moment's pause, her head lifting up, a bewildered expression on her face. "You couldn't have known-"

"No," Janet said quietly, halting Helen in her objection. "No-one in my position could have." She paused for a moment, considering her next words carefully. "That didn't stop me from blaming myself for not being quicker, for not knowing that there was a third, for not knowing that the third was a soldier from one of our own rank, or for not being able to stop Simon from bleeding out topside."

"How did you deal with it?" Helen had asked.

"I didn't," Janet told her. Reflecting back on it, there would have been many occasions that she would be embarrassed to admit where she could have addressed her grief with someone she cared about, be it Edward or the guards she worked with daily, or anyone else. "I kept a distance from everyone except Edward, and even then, he never really got overly-close to me, at least not from my perspective... Or rather... Not openly."

"I'm not sure I get it," Helen admitted weakly.

"Edward is Simon's father, and he treated me like one of his own kids... At least he did when I wasn't running the whole show down in that place. He was too busy trying to deal with my grief without letting on that this is what he was doing. I still don't know if he ever stopped to think about the fact that it was his own son who had died out there with me that day."

At this point, Helen wiped her face with the sleeve of her clothing, and stood up. "Look," she said tiredly. "You're right. I can't wallow in self-pity while we have everything around us needing to be dealt with at the moment. I'm tired, I'm-" she had to stop, letting out a shaky sob.

Janet did something at that moment she never expected herself to do at any point during her adult life. She approached Helen and impulsively gave her a hug, pulling the older woman close and wrapping her arms around her. She had literally surprised herself with this action, and she banished the idea out of her mind.

"It's like a hole in my gut!" Helen sobbed.

"I know," Janet said softly, surprising herself again. This level of compassion she was feeling was surprising to her, given she had not felt this strongly about another person's pain at any point on Earth's surface. "I know you won't believe me... But it wasn't your fault."

"I should've-" Helen started, but Janet didn't give her the chance to finish that sentence.

"There's a lot that we could've said at any point in our lives that we don't," she told Helen. "I'm learning a lot about what it is to be someone other than a stone cold bitch, and accepting that we sometimes say some monumentally stupid shit is one of those things. You weren't to know that those words would be the last you ever heard, and I'm sure he knew you only did what you did because you were worried and too proud to take what he said without being defensive."

Janet felt Helen stiffen in her arms, and was about to release her, to give her some breathing room, but the moment passed, and Helen relaxed again. "I hate that you're right," she said weakly, her voice containing a humorous tone that Janet was only distantly familiar with.

"It doesn't happen that often," she quipped back, eliciting a slightly teary laugh from Helen.

After a moment, Helen pushed weakly against Janet, who immediately released her hold on Helen. "I don't mean to be rude," Helen said by way of explanation. "I'm still tired. Who knew feeling grief and depression would be so exhausting?"

Plenty of times on Earth, Janet had felt too mentally exhausted to deal with the day's problems. She had not had any choice in the matter, as everyone else was relying on her, and so it was common for her to walk around feeling exhausted all the time despite having had a good night's sleep in many cases, so she knew what Helen was talking about. "I'll leave you to it," she told Helen. "The others still need you though. You might wanna talk to them soon." Helen's sighing nod was all the confirmation Janet needed, so she stepped to the doorway to leave the room. "See you soon."

After exiting the room and closing the door behind her, Janet was startled by the presence of John, who looked as if he had just come running. "I'm glad you're done in there," he puffed. "There's been an incident with some of your people."