Disclaimer: Characters established from Delirium trilogy are property of Lauren Oliver, the author and creator.

This takes place soon after Alex's departure from Lena's group, and serves somewhat as a companion piece to the events occurring in Reqiem after Alex's departure.

Characters: Aside from Alex, all other characters featured in this chapter are original to the story.

CHAPTER 6

It took me the better part of 6 days to get to my old homestead in the Wilds, and another day to find the group I had originally been with before I was locked up in the Crypts.

The way I was moving and thinking, I surprised even myself when I got to the trailer that I called home for several years. The same one that I had brought Lena to on our first night beyond the confines of the city.

I walked in my trailer, but it felt different. It still looked the same. Everything in its place, and the bed still looked as it did when I had left it last. I was tired, but I didn't want to lie on it. It didn't feel like home anymore. I didn't have a home, not really. Instead, I took what I needed, a knife, some rope, a flashlight, some batteries that I wasn't sure still worked, and some packets of food stuff that I had stashed away in case I ever needed them. Good thing, too. I was starving.

As I was about to leave for the last time, I stopped. It was stupid. It wasn't anything I needed, and it wasn't like I hadn't memorized it by heart, but I was compelled to bring it. In a last minute rush decision, I went back to the wall of books and pulled out the one I wanted, then quickly shoved it into my pack and left the trailer.

I didn't look back.

The hideaway site is about 20 miles northwest of the homestead. It's much like the safety house, but there's no house. It's more like a campground area, and the food lockers surrounding the area provide the storage needed to keep our stock of canned goods.

There are not as many people as Raven's group, but it's enough.

Luckily, some of the group recognized me from my old homestead, because I wasn't sure if they'd take me in otherwise. They checked me for obvious signs of being Cured, but one person I didn't recognize told them he remembered me from the escape from the Crypts. I didn't remember him, but apparently, it was enough for them to allow me to stay.

If they didn't, then I would've moved on, I suppose. I really had no plan beyond the hideaway.

I wake up the next day, feeling a little dazed. I don't remember much about my arrival aside from being let in. There is no house for us, but the large burrow we're in is big enough for the 12 of us and it's hidden in a densely packed area of trees. It would be difficult for anyone to find us.

When I said that the burrow is big enough for the 12 of us, what I mean is that if there were 13 of us, someone would have to sleep just outside the burrow.

I barely remember the last time I was in this place. It was right before I had taken up residence in Portland. I had volunteered to help build the burrow because I was angry and bored and none of the books I had at the time were helping me calm down.

At the time, I didn't want to join the populace of Portland and fake being one of them. I just wanted to stay in the Wilds and read and wait for the time to attack. But they needed me there, to get into a position that would help them infiltrate the city when the time came.

Honestly, I knew that would be a big advantage for us outsiders, and I would be a major asset that way, but I didn't want to go. Part of the reason was because I was scared. I wouldn't admit it, but I was. The other reason was because of Les.

Leslie Martin was part of our resistance group. She was a couple of years older than me. Smart, brave, and definitely a smart-ass. I really liked her. Of course, leaving the group to live in Portland would've separated me from her, even though she didn't have a problem with it.

It wouldn't have mattered if I didn't go, either. She, along with some others, had their own mission, and it was in another city. Needless to say, I was mad. And that anger helped build this burrow that sheltered and hid us.

What is interesting about it is that I thought I saw Les in the group when I had arrived last night. I didn't think anything of it at the time. I was too tired to think straight since I had barely slept during my trek back here. Last night, after being accepted in, they lead me to the burrow to rest. I guess I must've looked like death warmed over at the time, so I went in as far as I could into the cavernous space, dropped my stuff down on the ground, and planted myself next to it, falling right to sleep.

Now that I'm up and I can see clearly the people in our group, I realize my eyes didn't deceive me, as I see the one and only Leslie Martin coming toward me. The blond hair that I remember being long, smooth and shiny is now short and dull and kind of wild, as if she hadn't taken a comb through it in weeks. It's not like we normally carry hair products out in the Wilds, but I know she used to work hard to keep it groomed.

As I look at her, her hair is not the only thing that's changed. She looks down at me, and even though she's not frowning, she's not smiling either. Her green eyes are a darker version of what they used to be. Or maybe that was just my infatuation with her that made everything about her look more beautiful than it was. She was ethereal then. Now, she's just Leslie.

"You don't remember me," she says. "Do you?" Her voice definitely has a rougher sound to it. So, it isn't my imagination. She has changed.

"I remember you, Leslie," I say. Hearing my voice for the first time in days, I don't sound like myself, either. "Leslie Martin."

She narrows her eyes at me, and then says, "It's Les. Apparently you don't remember everything."

I smirk, knowing full well that she hates being called Leslie. Who the hell knew why, but it was always a sore spot for her. I never asked. I don't know why, maybe because I don't care what she could do, what she would do to me, so I ask her, "What's wrong with the name 'Leslie'? It's your name, isn't it?"

Suddenly, I feel her long, pointy fingers dig into my shoulder and shove me off the fallen tree trunk I'm sitting on. I'm on my feet before she can turn around, my anger taking over, even though I had pretty much started it.

"What the hell's your problem, Les?!"

She turns and walks away as if I didn't just yell at her. As if this wasn't the most awkward greeting ever. I look around and see a couple of people stare, but most of them just ignore us as they get breakfast ready.

"Morgan wants to see you," Les shouts, not even turning her head back. I assume she's talking to me even though I barely heard it, but no one else is even looking at her.

Morgan Stanton is the unofficial leader of our small part of the Resistance. He was the one who assigned me to Portland. When I first met him, I thought he was much older than he really was. The lines on his face were deep and he had burn scars on his right arm. I wasn't even sure I could speak to the guy, but he turned out to have a much calmer demeanor than he looked on the outside. All the same, he wasn't someone you messed around with. He was, or still is, a leader for a reason, and he knows how to handle risky situations.

I hadn't seen Morgan since before I brought Lena to my old homestead, but last I heard he was working on something big. He had yet to disclose the information to anyone. The only reason I know something is going on is because the last time I saw him, before I went back to Portland from one of my rare visits, he told me to stay safe. Then he hugged me. Morgan barely let anyone touch him.

Hell if I was going to be told what to do or where to go by Les. Yeah, we may have kissed a long time ago before we knew what we were doing, but that didn't give her the right to boss me around. She didn't know anymore about me than I did her.

But at the same time, I do want to go see Morgan. I didn't get a chance to see him last night, because he was apparently off doing something for whatever it is they're planning, and I of course I didn't bother staying awake to see him return.

I stand there while Les walks away, and take my time following her.

It takes me about two minutes longer than it should since I am too captivated with the extremely interesting foliage around the area. No, it's not really interesting at all, but seeing Les's face get even redder is entertaining enough.

Apparently, Morgan doesn't think so, because when we finally arrive at the table where it looks like he's doing all his planning, he shouts at Les, "Les! What the fuck took you so long?!"

Les directs her stare at me. "Ask the botanist."

The botanist feels justified.

Morgan just looks at me, not smiling. But the brightness in his eyes lets me really know he's at least glad to see me. He's about fifteen years older than I am, but he's always treated me like an adult, even when I wasn't acting like one. Like when he forced me to leave for Portland to live with my fake aunt and uncle.

He's probably the closest thing I have to a big brother. The last thing I communicated to him was that I was going to bring a girl across the fence, for good. Of course, things didn't quite go as planned.

I wonder if he thought I had died.

"Alex," Morgan says. His voice is commanding, but not angry. "Quit taking your sweet-ass time and get over here. I need to show you something."

I pass Les as she heads back to the main camp area, not even glancing at me. But I see her profile and I can see her lips tighten and her brows furrow as she goes. I'm not sure what that means, but I doubt I'll get any answers from her even if I asked.

There are two other men flanking Morgan. He introduces the short-cropped black-haired guy on his right as Angelo. Angelo looks a bit older than me, maybe in his early twenties, but definitely shorter than me. I wouldn't say anything about his height, though, because he looks like he could literally tear my arms out of their sockets with his bare hands. The guy's biceps look about as thick as my thighs. I don't know how he exercises, but it's obvious that he's never been inside the city walls. He would be targeted too easily as a troublemaker - someone who doesn't play by the rules. Someone who could resist. Not even anyone in their enforcement has this much muscle.

The other guy on Morgan's left is Ryan. Ryan is about as tall as Morgan, and maybe around the same age. If it's possible, Ryan's hair is even blacker than Angelo's, and he doesn't have it cropped too short to where you can see his scalp. He's a lot paler than I am, and his brown eyes give off a slight almond-shape to them. He's not brawny like Angelo, but comparing the two, I'm betting Ryan's lean frame can still kick as much ass as Angelo can. There's no doubt that's part of the reason why Morgan has them with him.

Which makes me wonder why I'm here.

I move over to stand next to Morgan, ignoring the stares of the other two. I shouldn't be nervous but I am. I'm not sure what Morgan wants me to do or if maybe I've misread him and he's about ready to rip me a new one. I've misread Morgan before. Luckily, his anger wasn't toward me back then.

Once I'm at his side, I look down to what he's staring at on his table. I recognize it immediately and my heart beats slightly faster with...excitement or anxiety, I'm not quite sure. But I definitely recognize it. I helped make it. It's a map of Portland.

I had started my new "role" in the city. I wasn't supposed to go out as much as I did, but I couldn't help it. I needed to get away. My guardians gave me some grief about it but they let me go anyway, probably knowing that keeping me locked in wasn't going to help me.

After a couple of weeks, they decided that my treks were going to be useful and asked me to memorize parts of the city, to point out important buildings, their entrances, their emergency exits. The simple part was walking around those areas.

Of course, making the map was a little harder. Morgan wanted to know details. The easiest and fastest ways to get in and out. How many yards or feet it took to get from one place to another, how long it took to get there by foot. I thought it was ridiculous at first, but seeing the map now, and knowing a little more than I knew back then, I can see how every detail helps.

"I know you just got back, but unfortunately, we don't have much time left," he says and points to what I remember as being a section of upper-level housing. "How fast would it take someone to get there?"

The seriousness in his voice tells me this is big. Even though it's been a while since I escaped, I surprise myself with being able to recall the area like I had only left there yesterday.

"20, 25 minutes by foot, easy," I tell him.

"And if you're runnin'?"

I can tell he has something on his mind and he's about to let me in on his plan. Despite how I've been lately with thoughts of Lena during my whole journey back, I'm glad for the distraction.

"Half that time, maybe less."

"How much do you remember about that place?"

"Everything."

Morgan nods, straightens his back, and turns to look me dead in the eyes.

"I don't know where you've been, boy, and it's not that I don't care, but I just don't care right now. We're going in, and we're doing some damage, and I'm so fucking glad you're here, because I'm going to need you to help make this happen. You think you can get your shit in order and be ready?"

My heart beats a little faster, and it's not the painful kind of beating, or the fear-induced kind. This time, my heart beats faster for something else. For another purpose.

"Yeah. I can do that."

"Good, because in three days, we're bringing them down."

For the first time in a long time, I feel needed. Really needed.

And it feels good.

We strike the city in three days. Morgan has all the confidence in me. He trusts me even now, even though I hadn't come straight back to him. It's as if he knows where I've been and he was just waiting for me to return.

But he didn't know, and I feel like there's something he's not telling me.

I walk back to the burrow and see Les talking to someone I don't recognize. She gives him a bowl of some food, her arms outstretched to him, as if she's keeping her distance. He looks down at the soup and I can read from his lips that he says "Thank you."

Before he sits down on only of the fallen trunks surrounding the immediately area, he sees me staring at them, then whispers in Les's ear.

Les straightens her back and turns to see me, but before I can even move, she turns back around and pulls on the guy's elbow to turn around and directs him to another sitting area, hiding both her and him.

It's not like I'm jealous. It's been years since I had any feelings for her, but this is not the same Les I remember when we parted ways. Of course, I'm definitely not the same person I was back then, either, but I have no reason to be angry at her.

Not that it matters. I have to prepare myself.

I'm going back into Portland.

After breakfast, I'm going over the information with Morgan and what needs to be done before the final strike. Where to get in, because he tells me security has been ramped up since the breakout from the Crypts.

Luckily for the group, they found someone else to get around in the city after me. Morgan didn't show any kind of grudge about, which I half expected, so I let it go. Until now.

We finish up what the plan will be for tomorrow, and before he even stops talking, I ask, "Why aren't you mad?"

"What?" he asks.

"At me. It's been months, and I'm only just coming back now. I'm sure you were expecting me back, weren't you?" I sound almost disappointed he hasn't shown any anger so far since my return.

"You want me to be mad at you, kid?" he asks, looking completely sincere. Then he sighs, and for a second I see a hint of sadness in his eyes. "Alex." He shakes his head.

"What?"

He turns and looks me straight in the eyes. "Honestly, I didn't expect you to come back."

"What? Why?"

"Because, I wasn't sure where your mind was anymore. The last time I saw you was before the cows, remember?"

I do remember. How could I forget? It was the first time I ever saw Lena. My thoughts meander to that moment that seems so long ago. But I remember it like it was yesterday.

We had it planned out. It was during Portland's Evaluation Day, their way of matching up teens to the most suitable person for him or her. To say they don't trust Uncured teenagers to pick for themselves is an understatement.

I knew we were getting ready to set the cows loose during one of the evaluations, and I was on the lookout from the observation deck. Well, maybe "lookout" is a loose term. I wanted to see what would happen. I knew it was going to happen soon, and my part had been done. I was supposed to keep the doors unlocked, which I did, and then I had to leave the area so I wouldn't get caught. I decided to walk the facility, pretending I was just doing rounds, and entered the observation deck.

There, I saw them evaluating her. At the time, she was just the girl at the Governor. One of the evaluators had asked her about her interests and she goes off, like some kind of robot, about her hobbies and shit. It sounded like she was reading a grocery list, as if she was already Cured. Then after she's done with her list, she goes quiet and looks nervous and fidgety. For a moment, I think she's going to cry, but she doesn't and gets a drink of water instead.

I'm half waiting for the cows to trump the scene at any moment and half listening to her when they ask her about Romeo and Juliet. It's not the original story, of course, but it's the one most used for in warning us about the love disease. I've only seen a few evaluations in my life, and it's usually the same answer given when asked about what it is they like about Romeo and Juliet; that it's scary, or a reminder of the dangers of the disease, or a good lesson to be reminded of.

Instead, Lena says, "It's beautiful." And I'm stunned. I don't normally sit in on evaluations from the observation deck, but even I know that the word is too emotional. It looked like she was stunned after she said it, too, because suddenly she's trying to amend the situation. But when they asked her what her favorite color is, it's like she couldn't help stop herself from saying, "Gray." Of all the colors in the world, and she says 'gray'! It's such an ambiguous color. And ambiguous doesn't suit the evaluators at all.

I listened intently to her explanation, something that even the evaluators had stopped doing, because they were looking at something else. And I knew exactly what it was they were looking at. None too soon did those cows arrive.

I couldn't stop laughing. And she saw me. At first I think I should be running, but for some reason, I had to let her know. I didn't think she would call me out, but I didn't give her a chance to before I shook my head. She didn't. And I winked at her.

I actually winked at her, which seemed to stop her altogether. Then the alarm blared and I knew that was my cue to go.

"You were kind of pissed about that idea," Morgan continued. "We weren't even sure you'd leave the center open for us. It's like you had shut down, or something. So, when you were in the Crypts, we bombed the place so we could find you. But we never did. It was hard enough to get in through the fence after you got caught. Then when we did, and we couldn't find you in the time frame we had, I had two choices. Leave without you, or risk getting caught. And you know I couldn't do that."

"So you left."

His face is a grimace, but he nods. "I did. We came back here. I left you marks to let you know where we were, but after a week, I had to stop. Everyone else was getting antsy, thinking the regulators were going to find us."

"Sorry," I say. For all the time I was dealing with my own emotional troubles, they were here, waiting for me to come back. I didn't see them often when I was living in the city, but they were as close to family as I had, and I didn't even let them know that I was okay before I set off to look for Lena.

"Look, Alex, I ain't pissed. If I was pissed, you'd know. It's been too long, and it was either think you were dead, or that you had somewhere else to go that was important to you. So, if you want to talk about it, that's fine. Just know, I'm not pissed. Okay?"

I look down at my hands and nod slowly. I know Morgan doesn't like to get too personal about anything, but I feel like I owe it to him to tell him where I've been this whole time. So I do. I tell him everything. I tell him about how I got caught after Lena jumped the fence. How they treated me in the Crypts. Where I went after I got out and I even told him why I finally left. I even told him about the "sparring" with Julian got out of hand and I had to leave.

He doesn't say much aside from a few grunts and "okays" and when I finally finish, I realize I feel lighter than I have felt in months. We both take a deep breath.

"So, you finally came back because you let your emotions get in the way of sense." It's more a statement than a question, but I nod.

"And you don't think she loves you anymore?" he asks.

That's a question that's been going between yes and no in my mind ever since I saw her kissing Julian.

"At first I thought she didn't. Then the longer I stayed, I thought maybe she still did. Until that last night."

"Well, shit, boy. You did a number there, didn't you?" Morgan says, slightly shaking his head. Then suddenly, he smacks the back of my head.

"What the hell?!"

"Just thought you needed it," he says casually. "Look, Alex. It just dawned on me while you were telling me your sad tale. You're still young." I want to be angry at him for hitting me, then insulting me, but I'm more curious in what he's about to say next. "I know you've done some really grown-up things and that's not what I'm getting at. You're as smart as, maybe even smarter than me at some things, but when it comes to love… you're all so young. But then again, this is the reason why we're in this trouble in the first place, right? Because of how these emotions affect us. People have died for love. Worse yet, they've killed for love. Gone into war for love. Gotten sick for love. And this thing that they're doing to us all," he nods in the direction of where the wall of Portland is, "is supposed to fix all that."

"Yeah, I know," I say.

"No, you don't. That's the problem. You won't be able to get how important it is to feel what you're feeling. This Lena, she won't get it either. But being who you are, at your age. You get to feel that joy and that pain of what it's like to live. Really live like a human being. And that's just the beginning.

Those people in that city. They've forgotten what it's like to be human. And if you forget that, then really, what's the point of all this? Why do you think we call them zombies or robots? They aren't 'living' anymore. They're just readying themselves to die. They call love a disease, but they're the ones with the disease. We were born like this, with all these feelings, these emotions, for a reason.

And you've only just started. You really are so young. You haven't gotten to the best parts of love yet. And no, I don't just mean the sex. I mean the joy of living and giving all you have to the person you love. To the family you love. They miss out on all that joy. What for? For the sake of not feeling the pain and the hurt. But you know what, Alex?"

Morgan looks at me. This is the first time he's ever said so much about basically anything that didn't involve surviving or planning for our next battle, that it takes me a couple of seconds to realize he's actually waiting for me to speak.

"Wh-what?" I finally ask.

"The pain is what makes the joy all the much better." He pauses, looking at me, his hand on my shoulder. "But you have to struggle through the pain to get to that next level of joy. And they━ they don't get that far. They will never understand that anymore. But you, boy, you will."

I only nod. I'm not sure what else I could say after that.

"Alex, I'm not going to tell you things will get better, and that you'll find someone else. We can't think about that right now. But I will tell you this. If we make it through this, you might get a chance to give more people the opportunity to realize that love isn't a disease. It's just a part of who we are."

"I get it, Morgan. I do," and I do. I've always known these things. But it's reassuring to hear it from him, especially since he's not really the type to talk about stuff like this, despite the fact that we support it.

"Well, damn. You got me talking about mushy stuff. Man, I guess you and Les got me bringing out my feelings and shit."

"Why'd you tell me all this then?"

Morgan chuckles just slightly. "Because, Alex, no one else will."

I take a second to think about that. No one else will, or no one else can. Does he really know how much Lena means to me? Had he been in that same situation? I don't ask, but I don't think I have to.

It's at dinner that I officially meet with the rest of the group. It's good to see all the familiar faces that occupied our former homestead. Not everyone from there had made it when the regulators from Portland invaded. Fortunately, only one was killed. Morgan didn't give me details, but Crazy Caitlin didn't make it to the campsite. It surprises me a little that Grandpa Jones had made it, but he is stronger than he looks.

Several other ones from the Resistance in other areas came to join us in the days before I arrived, which is how Morgan got word of the exact day of our planned attack. I had come just in time, surprisingly. That wasn't my plan, but it works out anyway, because I wasn't sure if I would stay or move on up north.

Now I know I'm needed here. After the attack, who knows?

Morgan takes this moment to introduce all those I'm not familiar with to me, but saves the one I'm curious about for last.

"Alex, this here's Evan," Morgan says as we gather around the small campfire for dinner. Evan is sitting next to Les, and he nods to me, but Les's face is unreadable.

Evan seats himself a couple of persons away from me. His short, black hair is groomed formally and seems slicked into place, although I'm not sure where on earth we would keep such products. His clothing doesn't look at dirty or wrinkled as everyone else's and although his tanned skin can probably hide some blemishes, it's apparent there's not much grime on his skin. How long has he been here, I wonder.

"Hi Alex," says Evan, "It's good that you've finally arrived. We had thought you might not have made it out of the Crypts."

It finally dawns on me why Evan is so clean-cut, so formal. I almost want to jump out of the campfire ring and grab my knife. For what reason, I'm not sure. To attack him? To protect myself from him?

"You're Cured," I say matter-of-factly.

All eyes turn to me, including Les's.

Evan smiles courteously. "Yes, I am."

A/N: There are times when you think you've got things under control. You think you know what to do next and you're confident in your decision, until it doesn't wield the results you expected. Then you're thrown for a loop, and you just don't know how to get out.

I've been having to deal with that for a while and unfortunately, my desire to write took a hit. But hopefully, things will take an upswing soon and I'll be able to find my path again!

I won't make any promises, but like I've said before, I don't plan on leaving it incomplete. Thanks!