Til We Come Face To Face
By Laura Schiller
Based on: The Host
Copyright: Stephenie Meyer
"You know nothing of Javert -
I was born inside a jail.
I was born with scum like you.
I am from the gutter too!"
"Confrontation", Les Miserables: The Musical, written by Richard E. Maltby, Alain Albert Boublil and Claude Michel Schonberg
(Author's Note: The name "Terra" for the Seeker – as opposed to Lacey, the host – appears in a list of characters on the Wikipedia website for "The Host". I don't know whether Ms. Meyer approved of this, but it sounds appropriate to me.)
"I don't know how to save you," I whispered.
"Why would you want to? You're one of them!"
Was I?
As Melanie and I fought over the matter in my head, we didn't notice Jeb approaching. The Seeker, keeping watch over my shoulder, saw him first. She cringed into the wall.
I remembered that pose. I knew exactly how it felt to hold it: flattening my body against the harsh stone of the caves, keeping an eye on Jeb's gun, wondering if this was the moment the humans would decide to kill me, or if I had a few more minutes left.
Something about her in that moment pulled at me, in spite of Melanie's hatred, in spite of my own. She had been so fierce, so defiant, so stubbornly brave to go searching for me all by herself when her colleagues had given up. Now to see her terrified like this, as any other soul would be at the sight of a weapon, was appalling. She reminded me irresistibly of myself.
How can you think that? Melanie snapped. She is nothing like you –
"All right there?" asked Jeb.
I answered him automatically, but the look on his face distracted me. He was glancing from the Seeker to me like a spectator at a tennis match: alert, calculating, what I called his pouncing-cat expression. The last time I had seen him looking like that was when he'd been trying to figure out my motives for coming here –
Of course, Mel and I thought in unison. Damn it, she added.
The Seeker and I were far too unlike other souls to be a coincidence. No wonder we hated each other.
"There's … there's someone else here, isn't there?" I asked, my palms sweating against my jeans. "Your host is still there. You're like me." Some vestige of my soul upbringing reminded me how rude it was to cast any doubt on a fellow soul's ability to control a host; such matters should be discussed only with one's Comforter or nearest family.
Do you really have to know? Melanie demanded. Will it make any difference? She's still a murderer.
I need to know, was all the answer I could make.
"How dare you?" the Seeker exploded.
She launched herself at me with her hands held out. I jumped back, but that proved to be unnecessary. As soon as Jeb cocked his gun behind me, she lowered her arms and wrapped them tightly around her middle. If looks could kill, however – as the human saying goes – her coal-black eyes would have roasted me on the spot.
"I'm not like you!" she snarled. "I'm not weak! I'd never betray my people the way you have. You have no idea how hard I've worked to stay in control - "
"Are you calling me weak?" So much for empathy. I had saved my friend from a claw beast on the Mists Planet; I had survived months living in a cave with an enemy species; I had coped with Jared's moods, Mel's jealousy, and Ian's bewildering courtship without going insane; I had watched Jamie nearly die. In that moment, if Jeb had handed me his gun, I might even have used it. "What do you know about true strength? You're afraid of your host, anyone can see that."
A jolt ran through her; I'd clearly hit a nerve. Knowing I was right gave me no satisfaction, however; I was still blazing mad.
"If you were truly strong, you'd find a way to make peace with her, like I have. Altruism defines us, don't you remember? I'm not a traitor. You're the one who betrayed what it means to be a soul."
"Altruism?" She scoffed. "For them?" She pointed an accusing finger at Jeb, who stood leaning against the wall, playing with his rifle and watching us with amused interest in his eyes.
"You don't get to claim the moral high ground anymore," I retorted. "If they're killers, so are you."
"Ah yes." She threw up her hands. "Of course, I forgot. The moral high ground belongs to you, doesn't it? How long before you ruin us for good, Wanda? How long until you tell them - " She jerked her head in the direction of Jeb, hinting at what she didn't dare to say. I guessed her meaning at once. It was the same question Melanie and I had been arguing over.
Don't tell her, said Mel. Don't even think about it! But I didn't need her advice this time.
"That's my business," I told her. "But … I trust these people. They're not the monsters you think they are. They're perfectly capable of kindness and decency when they try, right, Jeb?"
"That's right, hon. A real Southern gentleman, that's me." Jeb winked at the Seeker, whose face twisted as if she were trying to choke back a laugh.
"Or haven't you noticed that, as these caves go, your prison is about as comfortable as it gets?"
The Seeker looked down at the puddle of soup she had thrown earlier, nudged a jicama root with her dusty sneaker, and frowned. It did not seem to be her usual frown, however; it was more thoughtful than aggressive. "Really?" she muttered. Soon, though, her usual expression was back in place. "Does it matter? I won't live much longer to enjoy it all, will I?"
"I won't let them kill you," I said. "I'll find a way to stop them. I promise."
The words came out of my mouth fully formed, before Melanie had time to censor them, before even I could think about what I was saying. Mel let out a soundless scream that made me wince.
"You can't be serious." Behind the contempt, though, there was true hope on the Seeker's face. "Why?"
"Why not?" I shot back. "I'm a soul."
"That's not an answer." Her voice was surprisingly low and even; I had seen her like this only once before, when she'd confessed to me how seriously she took her duty to defend our kind from the human insurgents. "Even I can see your life would have been so much simpler without me. If it weren't for me following you, you might never have gone into the desert in the first place."
"Oh, I would have," I said, smiling ruefully. "Melanie's about the most stubborn life form of any species I've ever met."
"Ha!" She threw back her head and snorted. "You have no idea. I remember one time when Lacey – " She cut herself off, blushing through her sallow skin, realizing too late what she'd just tacitly admitted.
"Lacey? Is that your host?"
She nodded slowly.
"What did she do?"
"None of your business." The Seeker rubbed her forehead. I could just imagine the internal shouting match she must be having. "Suffice it to say … " She tugged on the limp, dirty cuffs of her long-sleeved shirt. "It's not easy, living for twelve years in a body that hates you."
Twelve years? Mel gasped. My God ...
What?
She's a kid. Lacey's still a teenager in there. Her body can't be older than thirty. She's never been allowed to grow up.
A dangerous child, I added, but I knew what she meant.
Mel and I had to absorb a wave of unexpected pity – hers for Lacey, mine for the Seeker, both of us for ourselves, and for each other too. Mel had noticed those long sleeved black shirts, worn even in the desert. Her human history informed me that people with scars on their wrists often wore long sleeves to hide them; scars which, among other things, could be caused by suicide attempts. A Healer could have fixed those perfectly, but a Healer would ask questions, and I remembered only too well how it felt to hide a secret like ours …
Jamie once said they were lucky you ended up with me, I whispered to my sister. We never considered how lucky I was to end up with you.
Not that lucky, Mel whispered back. Those first few days, if I could have cut you out with a scalpel, I would have.
"You'll be free soon," I told the Seeker – and Lacey. "Both of you."
"One can only hope."
Her sardonic tone did not match the sadness in her eyes. She slid down to the floor, wrapped her arms around her knees, and stared into nothing with eyes that were red-rimmed from lack of sleep.
Her first planet. Her first lifetime, not even half completed. She was so young, too young for me to keep on hating her like this.
"You know what's funny?"
"What?"
"I never asked your name. Here you've been chasing me halfway across the continent and I don't even know your name."
"It's Terra," said the Seeker, tonelessly, as if our confrontation – and probably her own arguments with Lacey on the side – tired her. Maybe that was the secret to coping with her; simply let all that ferocity burn itself out.
Terra. It didn't surprise me. I could see her laying claim to her home this way. "You like it here."
"I do." To my astonishment, she smiled. "I like gardening." Her smile broadened into a smirk that would have done credit to one of Mel's cartoon villains. "It bores that little bitch in my head to distraction."
I rumpled my short hair, cut in defiance of Melanie, and laughed. We were alike, all right. Also, now I knew which planet to send her to. Let Terra be a Flower in her next life; if anyone could use some quiet, it was her.
I nodded to her and walked away. I half expected her to shout something offensive after me – Mel was almost disappointed that she didn't – but Terra remained silent, curled in on herself as I had in those first days in my hole.
"You've got some 'splainin' to do, young lady," said Jeb, strolling next to me along the hallway, a hard watchfulness in his eyes. "What was all that about setting her free? I ain't deaf yet, you know."
"I'll explain everything later, Jeb," I said, blinking away a rush of tears. "I just .. I need a minute."
He patted me on the back and returned to his guard duty, leaving me alone – as alone as I ever was with Melanie in my head. I had a choice to make – or, to be honest, it was a choice that had already been made. Hating Terra had made me lose perspective; understanding her made things easier, but not by much.
The only question was, how would I find the courage to give my life?