Rose –

"In a time of universal deceit - telling the truth is a revolutionary act."

George Orwell

Tatiana's office is every bit as gilded and pretentious as I had assumed it would be. After being escorted up what felt like fifty flights of stairs, I end up sitting in an overstuffed leather arm chair at the top of an observatory. Each wall is made up of nothing but metal beams and sheets of thick glass, providing a view of Portum in every direction. I cannot even begin to fathom why she would want such a view, the charred buildings and overturned buses are not very aesthetically pleasing. Although, if her venomous smile is any indication, I guess it would make sense that she enjoys staring at the remnants of a catastrophe all day long. I wouldn't be surprised to learn that she's also into activities like pulling the wings off of butterflies, or using a magnifying glass to burn ants.

She sits behind a polished mahogany desk, her hands folded in front of her and her manicured eyebrows raised expectantly. I try not to meet her prickly gaze; instead I stare straight past her. Behind her I can see through one of the windows to the only patches of green grass I have seen in weeks. Brick structures lie between the fields, and there are even a few massive oak trees still standing.

Tatiana turns around to see what has drawn my attention and her chair groans beneath her as she does. "That's the old university," she tells me, her voice high and tight.

I don't respond at first, partly because talking to Tatiana is about as pleasant as chewing on tinfoil, and partly because I'm too shocked. Executor Ozera had taken special care to raze most learning institutions to the ground, and the fact that I am looking at one right now feels like its own tiny miracle.

"It's part of the reason we chose to settle here," she continues, turning back around to face me.

Tatiana had probably been beautiful at one point, maybe she had been softer and kinder in her younger years, but tragedy has a way of turning people to stone. Now, her wrinkled skin is pulled tightly over high, angular cheek bones, and the permanent scowl on her thin lips makes her features even more severe, more terrifyingly defined.

She clears her throat dramatically, "Do you have anything to say for yourself?"

My face is the picture of neutrality, and I sit slumped in the chair, trying to appear indifferent toward my situation and anything she might say. The truth is, I'm terrified.

The only thing I know for sure about the Purge is that my parents supposedly didn't survive it. I try to recall everything that I can about on the subject. I think back to the holding facility, to the door marked "Restricted Access," and to the room filled with filing cabinets. I'm opening the Insurgencies file and flipping through its contents: refocus our attention on the Purge.

"You had no problem blabbing about everything you knew downstairs, why the sudden silence?" demands Tatiana shrilly.

Tatiana and the rest of the council are obviously interested in what I know, the shocked looks on their faces had told me that much. Still, it's impossible to know whether that's a good thing, or if it will get me killed. Claiming to know more than I actually do had been a gamble; one that I'm not sure will pay off.

"If you don't tell me what you know, I can assure you that this will be a very short meeting – one that will end badly for you."

Her threats roll right off of me. "And what kind of sureties can you offer if I do tell you what you want to know?"

For a fleeting moment, Tatiana looks impressed. "That remains to be seen."

I lean forward with my elbows resting on my knees. "Yeah, that's not going to work for me."

An annoyingly high cough escapes Tatiana's pursed lips. "What are you asking for then, Rosemarie?"

"If I tell you what you want, then my friends and I get to walk out of here."

"No," she answers almost immediately. "I'm afraid that's not possible."

"Why the hell not?" I ask, letting my voice rise in volume. "Are you running some kind of prison camp? Is the electricity here powered by the blood of strangers or something?"

I smile triumphantly at the disgusted look on her face.

However my triumph dissipates when Tatiana doesn't take the bait. "If your intelligence proves to be valuable, then you cannot be allowed to leave. Who knows what you might reveal to the wrong people."

Whatever the Purge is, she's worried about other people finding out about it. If I can find a way to make her believe that I know the truth, it could be used as leverage; I could agree to keep the Purge to myself if she agrees to let us go. There's also a chance that the council could decide that a firing squad is the best way to keep me quiet.

"I was trained by the RPD," I tell her pointedly. "Keeping secrets is my specialty."

"Apparently not," she snaps. "If you're willing to barter with them."

"Desperate times…" I say drolly.

"I'll tell you what," says Tatiana. "You tell me what you know about the Purge, and I'll agree to let you see our physician."

My heart seizes up for a moment, could the doctors here fix me? I do my best to curl my right hand into a fist, but two of my fingers refuse to move.

"I'm not here to make deals on my own behalf," I say, pushing myself up from the chair. "I'm here to talk about my friends."

Tatiana's cold gaze follows me as I wander over to the window farthest from her desk. "How noble of you," she says, completely deadpan.

I do my best not to whirl around and glare at her. Instead, I focus on the ground that lays 22 stories beneath me.

"If you're worried about me, then fine, I'll stay," I say through gritted teeth. "But you have to let everyone else go."

Pain coils in the pit of my stomach at the thought of being left to rot in this place, but I would do it if it meant that my friends could go free.

"What is it that you think we do here?" asks Tatiana. Her chair squeaks and then I hear the sound of approaching footsteps. "Why are you and Vasilisa so desperate to leave? Do you have somewhere more important to be? Is there some other haven out there that I don't know about?"

For a moment, I'm not quite sure how to answer her question. Is Portum Lux really so backward that it would be better for us to risk the outside world than to stay?

I can't think of a way to articulate my thoughts, and I decide that I don't really care enough about what Tatiana thinks to try. "This place is fucked up," I tell her flatly.

I hear her scoff from somewhere behind me, but I don't bother turning around. A few people can be seen walking on the streets below me, and I watch them as they make their way from place to place, wondering who they are and what had brought them here.

"You want to kick me out because you think I'm broken. Christian says it's because you're trying to establish some kind of accelerated version of natural selection, by allowing only those you deem the best of humanity to live here, and then forcing them to breed." The disgust in my voice is plane. "You're just as bad as the Executor, forcing people to live by these ridiculous standards. We came here to escape that kind of life, and now that we know the truth, we should be allowed to leave."

Tatiana moves to stand beside me, but I force myself to continue staring out the window. "If you really know what the Purge is, then you would know that I am nothing like the Executor," she says, and her voice washes over me like a bucket of ice water.

I peer at her out of the corner of my eye. There is a faraway look on her face, and for once she doesn't look angry or annoyed, she just looks sad. Tatiana no longer resembles the tyrant I had come to view her as.

"I know that the Purge killed my parents," I tell her bleakly, and I'm not sure why I do.

She doesn't flinch at my revelation, instead she looks eerily calm. "The Purge killed many people," she says solemnly before switching gears. "You may not agree with the way we do things here, but we both know that you have no where else to go."

"First you want to send me away, now you're telling me that it would be bad if I did, which is it?" I ask bitterly, trying not to sound as confused as I am.

"Both," she says after a moment of consideration. "I don't want you here. You're arrogant, defiant, and on paper, you have little to contribute to our society."

"You're too kind," I tell her, my words dripping with sarcasm.

"I thought the same thing about Christian Ozera when he approached me four years ago," she says, sounding almost wistful. "Investigators are a rare breed of soldier. They are the most cunning, a trait I greatly admire, but they are also the most cruel, a trait that some are born with and the rest have thrust upon them."

I feel my body go rigid. She's right, but I won't admit that to her.

"I am former military," she continues, and I open my mouth to respond, but she cuts me off before I can. "Not NAAMA military, United States Air Force. I assumed a different identity after the Pulse, and ended up in the Southeastern Province. I knew after what happened with the EMP that I would be targeted, and I did my best to blend into the compound population, but Christian managed to find me anyways."

What makes her think that she would be targeted after the Pulse? It doesn't make any sense, unless…

Unless she had something to do with it.

"Why are you telling me this?"

"It's important that you understand how we ended up here," says Tatiana before continuing with her story. "I thought he was going to arrest me. Instead, he came to me with an idea – an idea that you now know as Portum Lux. I thought he was crazy, I couldn't believe that an investigator would want the things he was talking about. I couldn't understand what motivated him, until he told me about the Purge."

My pulse quickens, whatever I had been able to piece together so far on the Purge is not the whole picture. I'm still missing something.

"I read about the Purge at the holding facility," I tell her, still doing my best to avoid her cool stare. "It's why the Risk Prevention Department was established." I try to speak my words in the form of a statement and not a question.

"It is," she says, and I let out an inaudible sigh of relief. "It was the start of Natasha's reign of terror, her campaign against the truth. She had people hunted down and killed for what they knew, for what she was scared they might reveal to others."

"What is she so afraid of?" I muse more to myself than to Tatiana.

"Aha," says Tatiana, sounding amused.

This time I do turn my head to look at her. "Aha, what?"

"You're finally asking the right questions," she says with a tightlipped smile. "Maybe you're not as useless as you seem."

"What do you mean the right questions?" I ask, ignoring her dig.

"As much as it pains me to admit, you're a clever girl. And your regard for your friends tells me that perhaps the RPD hasn't completely ruined you. However, it's also clear to me that you don't know nearly as much as you would like me to believe," she says, turning to walk back to the far side of the room.

"That doesn't answer my question," I reply, pivoting to watch as she starts rummaging through the papers that lay on her desk.

"The Purge," she says, not looking up from her desk. "You know what happened, but you don't know why it happened."

"She wants to keep NAAMA in the dark," I tell her, striding purposefully toward her. "She killed all the scientists and teachers to make sure it stayed that way."

"Yes, but why, Rosemarie?" she asks exasperatedly.

"I don't know!" I say throwing up one arm in frustration. "Because she's crazy?"

She looks up at me with a scowl. "Don't be stupid, Rosemarie, it will get you thrown out of Portum."

I narrow my eyes at her. "Does that mean you're going to let me stay?"

She lets out a defeated sigh, "Temporarily."

I try not to appear as relieved as I am. Temporary is actually the best I could have hoped for. Temporary means I can recover from my injuries; and it means I have time to figure out what Tatiana and the council are hiding.

Tatiana opens one of the desk drawers and withdraws a metal object. Judging by the way that she holds it up to her mouth, I'm guessing that it's some sort of communication device.

"Sage?" she says curtly.

A second voice crackles over the device's speaker a few moments later. "Ma'am?"

"Clear tomorrow morning's schedule, I need you to run an EMG on Miss Hathaway."

"Will do," says the voice.

Tatiana puts the device back into the drawer.

"EMG?" I ask.

"It will help us to determine how severe your injury is," she says, turning and walking toward the room's only exit. "My guard will escort you to Miss Dragomir's room. I'm assuming the two of you won't mind sharing?"

I have to blink back my surprise before responding. "No."

"Try to behave yourself," she says, opening the door and then turning to whisper something to the man who stands outside of it.

My only response is to stare at her incredulously before brushing past her. The door falls shut behind me and the guard gestures for me to follow him. The journey down the stairs barely fazes me as I replay my conversation with Tatiana over again in my mind. She's hiding something from me, something that involves the Purge and the RPD.

Why?

What is the Executor so afraid of?

What is Tatiana so worried about people knowing?

I follow the guard down the stairs and through a series of passages until we finally emerge from the capitol building. I blink a few times as my eyes adjust to the sun, and even though it is out in full force, the air is still cold. Then I practically skip down the large stone steps and down the street toward the Duval. I have to find Dimitri and the others so I can tell them what happened. A part of me wants to find Christian first; I have to ask him about the Purge. What could be worse than systematically killing an entire portion of the population? What had been so bad that it would convince Tatiana to come out of hiding to establish Portum Lux? Whatever the Purge had been, Christian can tell me, but would he?

I pass by a few people as I make my way down the street. Some openly gawk at me and others do their best to avoid walking on the same sidewalk as me. I search their faces, hoping against all odds that I might know one of them.

The Duval looms in the distance, and a few people stand in front of it. My heart leaps into my throat when I finally spot a familiar face.

Suddenly I'm running; I'm running faster and faster and the decimated buildings pass by me in a blur of gray and black and white. My tired muscles burn from the exertion. I haven't stretched my legs in what feels like ages, but they begin to remember their old strength as I will myself to move faster. You would think my years of training would have prepared me for this moment, but the events of the past few days have made me weak. My lungs start screaming out for me to stop, but the pain is nothing compared to the dull ache that has begun to leak out of my heart and into my chest. I forget Christian; I forget the council, and the Purge. My only thought is to put one foot in front of the other.

The street seems to stretch out for miles. The faster I move, the farther away he gets, until he finally turns to see me running toward him. Now he's running too.

And then I'm crashing. I throw myself into his arms. I feel him bury his face in my neck and he murmurs something to me in Russian. I need to pull him closer, I need to touch every part of him – but even that might not be enough. The air around us is cold and a gust of wind whips my tangled hair all around us. He pulls away slightly and uses one hand to sweep my hair behind my ear.

He studies me intently, probably wanting to make sure that I'm not hurt. I try to do the same, but my vision is blurry and it takes me a moment to realize that it's because my eyes have glossed over with unshed tears. Maybe it's because his image had been branded into my memory with a hot iron from the moment I met him, but even through my teary haze I can see him perfectly.

He sucks in a deep breath and his dark eyes stare into mine. There is no light reflected in them – no flecks of gold, just endlessly deep brown eyes that seem to suck me in and swallow me whole. He keeps one arm wrapped around my waist, and the other slides across my neck and moves up to cup my cheek. I close my eyes and press myself against his palm, wanting to make sure that he's real – that this moment is real.

"You're okay," he breathes, and I'm not sure if he's talking to me, or to himself.

"I'm okay," I say, and I feel the corners of my mouth pull up into a genuine smile. I had almost forgotten what it's like to smile.

We cling to each other as if letting go would result in the universe collapsing in on itself. I want to press my lips to his, to taste his skin beneath my tongue, to run my hands across the hard lines of his body, but a distant part of my brain reminds me that we're standing in the middle of the street. My need ignites something in the air, and I can no longer feel the wind that rushes past us. I lean my head against his chest, and I smile even more broadly at the sound of his racing heart.

I allow myself a few more moments of bliss before pulling away. We have time now, time to be together, but before that can happen we have to figure out what had led to the founding of Portum Lux.

"Are they letting you stay?" Dimitri asks, his voice a little strained.

I take a breath to steady myself. "For now."

Dimitri arches an eyebrow, "What do you mean for now? What did you tell them?"

"Enough to give us a chance."

He doesn't look any less confused. "That's…cryptic," he says with a slight frown. "Give us a chance to do what?"

To find the truth.

"It's better if I tell everyone all at once."

The hand that had been cradling my cheek slides down my arm. I feel his fingers lace with mine and he gives me a reassuring squeeze. He has no idea what I'm talking about, no idea what I have planned next, but he's still the one trying to reassure me. The thought makes me dizzy and I suddenly feel undeserving of someone like Dimitri.

He and the others have followed me across the country; I can only hope that they'll follow me just a little further.

*Cries bc Romitri*

Everything has been so tense and serious so I had to write this fluffy reunion scene.

Hopefully this chapter wasn't confusing; I had to set up a lot of plot points. Also as far as my citrusy writing is concerned, I think what's gonna happen is I'm going to write two versions of the scene – one that goes with the usual flow of the story – and the other will be smut.

I'm going to introduce Sydney soon. So far, I have some flirtatious interactions with Adrian planned, but nothing too crazy. I was just wondering how many Sydrian fans are reading this? Would you guys want me to elaborate on their story? Let me know! As always, your reviews are appreciated and I love you all!