But now, the impasse had to end.
Since I figured he wouldn’t be capable of ending it on his own, even apart from being housed in his own private construct inside the tank, I had to be the one to do it.
Besides, I couldn’t handle being separated from his light any longer.
It had been long enough.
And these last few months hadn’t exactly been a party for me, either.
59
WALK THE LINE
HE LOOKED OVER only once.
That was when the door first opened.
Seeing the door open, his narrow mouth curled into a frown, his eyes hardening to glass. Once he recognized me standing there, though, his eyes widened. I saw the clear irises take me in, saw his gaze slide over me and then away, almost as if he’d been burnt.
The frown vanished, unlike what I’d more than half-expected. He didn’t look angry, or even all that reluctant to talk to me. He didn’t order me out.
Hell, he didn’t say anything at all to me, not at first.
When Torek closed the door behind me, swinging the lock shut with a still-audible twist of the wheel, even outside the nearly three-foot-thick door, Revik didn’t even look up. I glanced back in time to see the light over the door go from dark red to green.
Once it had, I exhaled, looking back at Revik.
Only then did I realize he’d activated the transparent pane between his segment of the tank and the one next to it.
I knew, just by which side of the room it lay on, which tank he was looking in on. He didn’t glance over at me again, not for what must have been a few minutes.
“Why aren’t you in there?” he said finally.
He pointed at the window, not looking at me.
His voice shocked me into silence. It sounded exactly the way I remembered it. Maybe that one thing was enough. Maybe it was that deeper tone he used, the one that seemed to come out of his chest as much as his throat, his German accent blunting the syllables.
“I would be in there,” he said, into my silence.
I followed his eyes and fingers to the other tank, where Lilai lay in a crib.
I watched her sleep, her tiny fingers gripping the plush arm of a stuffed elephant that Balidor, of all people, had found for her somewhere. She’d been wrapped in footed pajamas that had elephants on them, too, presumably a hand-me-down from one of the humans on board who had small children. Lilai looked peaceful in sleep, even if I could almost see the denser currents of light around her form.
I knew if I was even a little more aware of myself, and of the reality of her, just watching her there might have terrified me. The fact of being a parent at all might have terrified me.
Looking back at Revik, I saw his eyes on her, unwavering.
Without trying to interpret his expression, I stepped deeper into the room. I focused on our daughter when Revik’s eyes remained on that transparent wall. I couldn’t help swallowing at the tension I could see in her tiny face, even as I made a vague gesture with one hand.
I felt almost defensive once I’d thought about his question.
“They wanted me to wait,” I said.
“Why?” he said simply.
I shrugged, tearing my eyes off her with an effort.
“They wanted me to wait until they’re done checking her light. Until they know what Shadow did to her.” I swallowed again, harder that time. “Because I’m her mother, I guess. They say we’re likely… you and I… we’re likely to light bond with her at a deep level, as soon as we spend even a small amount of time with her. They say the Dreng eradicated any trace of my light from hers, from before––”
I trailed, not really wanting to talk about my brief pregnancy, or the untimely C-section.
Hesitating, I shrugged with one hand, feeling my face warm as I added,
“Balidor’s worried Shadow might have done something to her light. Something that could harm her… even kill her, if we’re not careful. Tarsi seems to think his fears are warranted. Both of them think Shadow had big plans for her.”
I fell silent, seeing Revik wince.
He didn’t answer at first.
He didn’t move, either. He continued to lean his body forward, his face close to the thick organic partition. I watched his clear eyes stare at our daughter on the other side, his chin resting on his arms where they folded over the guardrail under the observation window.
Then he let out a humorless laugh.
“Yeah,” he said.
He still didn’t look at me.
Standing there, I fought with whether or not to approach him.
Most of that giddy, half-out-of-my-body thing dissipated by the time we reached the carrier. Even so, by no stretch of the imagination did I feel normal. I could feel the distance between us being stretched by that oddness in my light, amplified by it, maybe.
I still wanted to touch him. I had to fight not to touch him, or to step any nearer.
I forced myself to just look at him, instead.
He looked lean. Maybe leaner than I’d ever seen him, without being starved, the way he had been when he first escaped from Terian with Jon and Cass. He looked like he’d spent more time running and in the ring than he had lifting weights; I didn’t see an ounce of excess flesh on him anywhere. He looked like he’d defaulted back to his hyper-practical mode, including with his eating habits.
None of that really surprised me, but it was shocking to see him look so different from when I’d last seen him.
He wasn’t yelling at me, but somehow, this felt worse.
I continued to watch him, looking periodically at Lilai through that transparent window only to look back at him. We just stood there like that, not talking, for what felt like a long time.
When he finally straightened, I jumped.
I watched him hit through a sequence of keys on the edge of the window. He did it soundlessly, almost in rote, barely seeming to pay attention to what he did.
Slowly, like paint dripping down from the top and sides of the screen, the image of our daughter in that dimly-lit, greenish-tinted room disappeared. I flinched as it happened, fighting a sickness in my light when I could no longer see her.
I knew she was still there. I had to remember that, not freak out.
She was right there, on the other side of that wall.
I felt something similar touch Revik’s light, but he hid it from me quickly––so quickly, I wondered if I’d felt it at all.
In any case, I couldn’t feel it on him now, and Lilai was gone.
Now it was just us.
He faced me. I couldn’t help noticing he still didn’t look at me, though.
“Do you want to explain?” he said.
He made a vague motion with one hand, his other one gripping the guardrail under the observation window, which now just looked like a regular wall. Still avoiding my face and eyes, he motioned delicately again.
I found myself following his hand and fingers with my eyes.
Pain coiled through my light, even from that simple thing.
“Allie?” he said. “Are you going to explain? Or not?”
I swallowed. It felt like something hard was suddenly stuck in my throat.
Shaking my head, I clicked softly, barely conscious I did either thing. I wasn’t sure what I meant by either thing, either, other than maybe a subconscious part of me that didn’t want to explain at all, but wanted just to skip this part, and what I suspected his reaction might be.
I wanted to slide my arms around him, instead.
I looked at him, in dark pants and a white shirt, and I just wanted to touch him. I had to fight to keep that want out of my light, to keep it away from where he might feel it, and probably misunderstand it.
Or maybe understand it better than I wanted to admit to myself.
“Allie?” he said.
I nodded, barely noticing I did that, either.
Clearing my throat, I nodded again.
“There isn’t a lot to explain,
Revik,” I began, taking another breath. “I mean… you already know what they did to me.”
He nodded, but that look in his eyes didn’t waver.
“Tarsi?” he said.
He didn’t bother to say more. The question was pretty self-evident.
“Yes,” I told him. “I contacted her.”
“When?”
The tightness in my throat worsened. “The first time?”
When he continued staring off to the side, that empty look on his face, I sighed.
“I don’t know. I think after Jon woke me up. Tarsi said I started talking to her that same day.” Pausing for a beat, I added, “That’s what I remember, too. I contacted her… and Vash through her, I guess.”
Revik nodded again. “Why?” he said, still staring off to the side.
I knew what he was asking me.
Somehow, it didn’t help at all that he didn’t say it out loud.
I followed his eyes around the rest of his compartment inside the tank, noticing only then that the room had been furnished, making it look like a studio apartment. A bed stood there, with what had to be a king-sized mattress. I also saw a door, probably leading to some kind of washroom cubicle with a toilet and shower.
On the other side of the wall, I saw a desk with a lamp. On it rested a headset, a hand-held, a decent-sized monitor. Next to that stood a small couch. Someone had given him a bookshelf, too, and filled it with paper books, most of them old-looking, probably scripture, or some kind of commentaries. I guessed Wreg must have given him those, considering the pristine shape of the bindings. I wondered if Revik asked him for them, or if Wreg did it on his own.
Revik and Wreg were the only two people I knew who even read paper books.
Looking back at his face, I could feel him waiting for me to speak.
“Look,” I said. “I’m not sure if I can answer what you want to know. I don’t know exactly why I went to them. Or why I felt it wasn’t safe to go to you. I just did.”
Revik didn’t move. He didn’t even nod. When he still hadn’t said anything, a few seconds later, I gestured with one hand, maybe copying him, I don’t know.
“I’m sorry,” I said, somewhat lamely.
He didn’t say anything to that, either.
Walking over to the bed, I sat down, combing my hands through my hair. Exhaling again, I sat up straighter, my fingers gripping my elbows.
“Revik,” I said, hearing the tension in my voice. “I thought Cass was going to kill me. I thought I was dead, when she had me on that plane to San Francisco. I remember that part. I remember landing in Golden Gate Park in a helicopter. I remember getting to Mom’s house, and her telling me I didn’t deserve to be a mother.”
Seeing him wince, I swallowed, shaking my head.
“Everything after that is pretty fuzzy. Well, not fuzzy exactly… but it’s not clear like being down here, and conscious. I remember a lot of it, but I have to go pretty high in my structure to think about it, or even to see it. I can’t say I wasn’t conscious at all, not exactly… but my mind worked really differently. I remember it differently than I remember things down here, too. And I don’t know if I can explain to you how I was thinking back then.”
Revik nodded, his face unmoving.
He seemed to think about my words.
When he spoke next, I still didn’t hear any accusation in his voice.
“You didn’t think to have them tell me?” he said. “Down here, I mean?”
Hearing the emptiness of his voice, I shook my head, clicking again as I exhaled.
“It came up,” I admitted.
I felt him waiting, and swallowed, telling the truth.
“Don’t blame Tarsi, Revik.” I felt my face warm, and bit my lip, clasping my elbows tighter. “It wasn’t her. It wasn’t Vash, either. It was me.” Not looking up from the floor, I swallowed, shaking my head. “I honestly can’t explain why I said no. It just seemed like a bad idea at the time. I don’t remember knowing anything about Menlim’s construct, but some part of me still thought it was a bad idea for you to know.”
I stopped talking, exhaling again.
When he didn’t speak, I shook my head.
“I made them promise not to tell you,” I admitted. “I made them promise not to tell anyone, Revik. I had Tarsi pull the few people we needed. They helped her with my body, and getting me close to Cass and Lilai… but even they couldn’t know I was alive. Not until she brought me back.”
Seeing a muscle twitch on his cheek, I hesitated.
“Revik, I’m sorry. I really am––”
He didn’t seem to hear that part.
“What you did in our bedroom,” he said, cutting me off, as if his mind still ran on a separate track. “…In the hotel. I saw you die, Allie.”
Watching the stillness of his face, I sighed, clicking softly.
“Yes,” I said. “Yes, you did.”
I could feel him waiting.
Exhaling, I shook my head, feeling a pain sharpen in my chest. “I just knew I needed to. I knew I needed to be connected to all four of you to come back.”
“Come back?”
“From the wires,” I said patiently. “From what Cass did to me.”
Again, he didn’t answer, not even to nod.
“I wish I could tell you more,” I said, frustrated. “I really do. Maybe you should ask Tarsi. According to her, I did connect to the two of them, and that it reconnected the different levels of my light. She says it did more than that somehow, waking up some ‘Bridge’ part of me that had been dormant up until now. She says the death thing made that possible, too… maybe by opening up areas of my light that had been cut off before. Or maybe just by decoupling my light from its previous structure, freeing up my aleimi to take on a new form.”
I felt another shimmer of emotion off of Revik’s light.
It was there and gone, too fast for me to read anything specific, but I tensed.
“She was with you in all of that?” he said. “The death, too?”
I felt my face warm, suddenly understanding what I’d felt.
“Yes,” I said.
I saw his jaw harden, but again, he only nodded.
Seeing the look on his face, I felt my throat tighten more.
“Revik,” I began. “Revik, honey… I’m really sorry.”
I hesitated again, maybe waiting for him to absorb those words, too.
He continued to stare at the far wall, but I doubted he was really seeing it.
“You went to her,” he said finally. “Not me.”
“No,” I sighed. “Not you. Revik… gods. I was dead. I’m not sure I can be held responsible for what I do when I’m dead, even if I am the Bridge. I think I need some latitude here––”
He held up a hand.
“I’m trying to understand. That’s all, Allie.”
Realizing I could hear the defensiveness in my own voice, I forced another exhale.
“I know. I get that.” Forcing my light under control, I looked at him. My hands gripped my thighs now, almost painfully. “I get it, Revik. I really do. But you need to hear me on this. It’s not an excuse, it really isn’t. I don’t fully get what I was thinking through a lot of that stuff. Especially everything that happened after you saw me die. I remember things, like I said, but it’s not from this part of my light. I could show you, if you want to see more about it from those higher structures––”
“No,” he cut in. “No. I understand.”
I frowned, still watching his face.
“Tarsi seems to think I did all of that to protect you,” I said, cautious. “To keep you out of danger, and maybe to keep Shadow from killing you to get to me. At the very least to keep Cass from leaving New York with our daughter.”
Revik nodded, his face impassive.
I still couldn’t see any movement in his eyes.
More than anything, he looked tired. Exhausted maybe.
Combing my fingers through my hair, I had to fight
the impulse to lie back on the bed, to just sprawl there and close my eyes.
Instead, I rose back to my feet.
Walking up to him that time, I caught hold of his arm.
I did that cautiously, too, borderline asking permission with my light––at the very least, I left him a lot of latitude to say no. If I’d felt any hint from his light that the contact wasn’t welcome, I would have released him at once. I more than half expected him to do that, honestly. I expected him to step back, avoid my touch––maybe even push me away from him. All it would have taken for me to back off would have been a small push with his light, his hand.
Hell, a sharp look would have done it.
He didn’t do any of that. He didn’t even flinch.
He didn’t look at me, either.
I felt pain on him, coiling around his light in dim sparks, unavoidable now that I stood so close. The shield around him remained, but I could feel the edges of it fraying somewhat––maybe because we were talking, or maybe it started while he’d been looking at Lilai.
Whatever started it, the fraying felt more like exhaustion, too, rather than any real opening. His light still felt utterly closed to me.
I tugged on his arm. Rather than trying to get him to talk to me––or even look at me––I led him closer to the bed.
He didn’t fight me.
He followed me willingly, almost as if he’d been waiting for me to come for him.
Looking up at him, though, I felt another rush of frustration when he still wouldn’t meet my gaze. His expression looked just as blank and empty as before. I found myself flashing to when we’d first met, when we’d been on that ship to Alaska together… before that, even, up at Ullysa’s place in Seattle. He’d been impossible for me to read then, too.
He’d been worse, really. Back then, he’d stubbornly gone out of his way to be emotionally unavailable to me.
This didn’t feel like stubbornness, though. Not even remotely.
“Revik,” I said. “Are you angry at me?”
There was a silence. Then he shook his head, clicking softly.
“Why would I be angry with you?” he said.
Another silence filled the room.
In it, he stared off to the side, this time focusing exclusively on the headboard of the bed. The headboard stood flush against a dark green wall that shimmered with organics.
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