"So, you're saying if I choose red roses, it will be borderline cliché, but if I choose pink, it will be too girly for Sebastian?"

Anna claps her hands in delight. "Exactly!"

The past two and a half weeks have been devoted solely to the hideous tasks of guest lists and catering. My maid of honor decided to give me a break from those particular tasks for today, though I'm flunking nearly every floral arrangement test I get. Anna, who has taken to calling Sebastian, "Your Bassy-poo," makes five choices for every "um" I utter.

"Okay," she says. "How about this: White roses with lilac accents? You said something about purple bridesmaid dresses, right?"

"Yeah, why?"

"Because," explains Anna, like it's obvious, "if the dresses match the flowers, it would be super cute. Ooh, and then we can make purple a recurring theme, and since purple and blue are so similar, we could keep lots of lilac hues in the invitations and the decorations, but we can still add navy undertones so we don't over-feminize your Bassy-poo."

"Sounds good to me. So what's next on our list?"

"Hmm..." Anna ponders. "We could see about Chloe's progress on you dress."

Chloe Martinez, the most skilled seamstress in Phili, took my measurements about twelve days ago. It probably isn't finished, but the walk to Chloe's shop will be a nice break from work. Even so, for a reason I can't quite identify, the idea makes me sad.

"Sure," I say anyway. "Let's just grab some lunch first."

"Do you think we have time to eat out?"

"No, probably not."

Anna sighs. "I guess it's just another day of on-the-go sandwiches, huh?"

"Yup."

We head down to the kitchen. I haven't been down to see anyone for a few weeks. I've had to eat out or ask Anna to bring me something on her way to my room after her shift ends. I have a box of granola bars stock piled for breakfast. On Anna's days off (which she has been getting a lot more of as Monroe's official wedding planner) we are already out and about checking out venues or perusing flower shops, so vendors and cafes wind up feeding us. I may not be complete besties with the kitchen staff, but I like to think of us as more or less friends, and I think it will be nice to say hi.

The kitchen is always alive and buzzing so near lunch, but when Anna and I walk in, the whispering starts. The lively chatter is slowly replaced by a steady hiss. Anna roles her eyes and grabs some sandwich materials from the cupboards. I do my best to casually follow suit, but I can feel the eyes glued to my back as I work. Among the hushed tones, a few solitary words make it to my ears: "Wedding...Power...Monroe."

"Ignore them," mumbles Anna just loud enough for me to hear. I wonder if she deals with this all the time, but she seems too peeved to have had time to get used to it. Besides, these are her friends; she's the one who sees them every single day on the same level, whereas I work far away from the kitchen and can go without seeing them for more than a day or two.

"Okay, that's enough!" my friend finally explodes. Every head swivels simultaneously toward her voice. "You all should just take a picture. It'll last longer!"

Nobody responds, so I suggest we leave.

"I don't see why," insists Anna, stubborn as the mule she must have been in a past life. "It's not like you've done anything wrong. So you fell in love with someone who happened to be powerful? Cry me a river."

"Come on," I plead. "It's fine. There's nothing you have to prove."

"I'm sorry if I don't like to see my best friend treated like garbage," she snaps. "But fine. Let's just go. Let's just give up and let the mob mentality win. Excellent!"

I don't take her anger to heart because I know it's not really directed at me. I just grab the food and follow her out the door. She's grumbling for a while, and I'll be honest: It's a bit terrifying to see someone so easygoing and happy get so pissed off. Finally, though, she begins to calm down as we walk down the streets.

"I'm sorry, Kate," she admits. "I shouldn't have yelled at you like that."

"You probably shouldn't have yelled at your other friends, either," I add. Anna sighs.

"Well, they're supposed to be your friends, too. And when it's just me, I don't get ogled at like some zoo animal. Sure, they'll ask the, 'What's it like?' questions, but it's still me."

"I think I know why." Anna tries to retort preemptively, but I cut her off. "I'm the one actually marrying the leader of the Republic. You, well, for you it's more like you got a promotion."

My friend seems to be seeing reason, but nonetheless she growls a quick, "Still."

"Great. Now that it's settled, let's see my dress."

We eat while we walk the rest of the way to save time. When we finally get to the dress shop, Chloe holds up a finger in the universal finger for "wait." She's with a young woman, who is trying on a pretty dress, and the lady who must be the mother.

"You're so beautiful!" gushes the mom. A memory claws out of the depths of my mind and sinks its merciless claws into my consciousness.

I was eight, about to be the flower girl in my aunt's wedding. My mom took me to try on dresses. I found one with the sort of skirt that lifted like a ballerina when you spun. She kept repeating how very pretty I was, and I felt like a million dollars.

I've always just assumed that my mother would be at my wedding. Yes, se said some terrible things, but so did I. I'm starting to wish she was here so I could apologize.

"Hello? Earth to Kate. Come in, Kate!"

I glance at Anna. "I'm sorry. What?"

"Are you okay?" She frowns. "The gaping morons in the kitchen really got to you, didn't they?"

"What? No! It's not that."

"Then what is it?"

I open my mouth, then close it. Of course, I told Anna everything about the big fight before my mom left, and my friend was more than happy to supply proper rage. Her parents were hippies who didn't care what she did for the most part, and my relationship with my parents was obviously much different. She wouldn't get it.

My gaze remains fixed on the girl and her mom, though, and I don't think to look away before Anna follows my gaze. Now she knows.

"Kate, don't," she says, softly but still firmly. "You can be happy without her. Besides, if she was sorry, she wouldn't have left."

"I told her to leave," I remind Anna. "Plus, she has a terrible back. It wouldn't make much sense for her to travel on the offhand chance that I might maybe forgive her. What if I just need to be the bigger person here?"

My friend stares at me for a minute, analyzing how serious I am. She focuses her hard gaze solidly into my eyes as she says, "Fine. I don't control you. If you want to go visit your mom, then fine. Heck, maybe it's even the right thing to do. But you should know that I won't come with you."

"W-what?"

Anna wouldn't come with? I couldn't make that journey without my best friend.

"No, Anna," I say. "I'm not going to leave you here alone."

"Don't worry about it." She smiles slightly. "I guess if you really think about it, that fight made up for all the lost mother v. teenager fights you could have been having over the past six years or so. Now you're all evened out in the universe or whatever. Time to go make nice. I'll be planning the wedding, and I can go a lot faster if I don't need to explain reasoning to you on every little thing."

"Hey!"

"Chill." Anna's eyes light up with the malicious fire of teasing. "We both know it's true. I can't take a pee break without confusing you. But-" She interrupts my protest. "-on a more serious note, you shouldn't be gone for more than a few days, right? Just try to talk Sergeant Baker about getting a few guards to take you there."

I hesitate. "Should I be worried or grateful that you aren't putting up a fight?"

She laughs. "Shut up, you. Let's get a move on, though, so your boo doesn't come back to find out you're gone."

"Will do, chief."

We wind up going back without checking on my dress at all. As soon as we get home, we head straight for Jeremy Baker, who's been left in charge of Philadelphia while Sebastian and Miles have been in the Plains Nation. He's drinking a beer in his office, reading a report for something that is clearly boring him. He smiles when he sees us.

"What can I do ya for, ladies?"

"Hi, Jeremy," I reply. Captain Baker is the sort of person who is easy to be comfortable around in general, and beyond that, I'm making a conscious effort to act casual around Sebastian's friends.

"What up, Capt Bake?" Anna jokes. He laughs.

"Technically, I'm supposed to send you away if there's not an official purpose, but I'll make an exception because this memo from the Monroe Republic/Georgia Federation border is putting me to sleep. 'No new conflicts have arisen, nothing interesting whatsoever is happening, bla, bla, bla.'"

"Sounds hideous." I grin. "Unfortunately, we do have a legit reason for being here."

"Crap. Okay, then. What is it?"

"I need to take a quick trip," I answer. "There's some wedding-related business a few miles north of here I need to take care of, and I was wondering if you could spare a few soldiers to accompany me."

Technically, not a lie. Jeremy furrows his eyebrows, considering.

"What are you doing and where exactly are you doing it?" he asks. "Because I can't just let my boss's girl run around dangerous territory without all the facts."

"The Sved Family Apple Orchard," I say, trying to recall what my mother had told me. "It's actually a really cool place. Mr. Sved had left the Amish community before the blackout because he didn't like their rigid beliefs, but due to his upbringing, he and his family have thrived since the power shut off. Anyway, I hear they make this phenomenal apple cider, and I want to see if they'll do a bulk order for the wedding. Especially since it'll probably be in the fall."

Anna's eyes widen in awe of my improvisation, and Jeremy nods slowly.

"Alright," he agrees. "Sounds worthy enough. Just be back by the end of the week, or Bass will kill me when you're not here."

"Thanks so much!" I beam. "You're the best!"

"Well, yeah." He smirks playfully. "Just don't tell Bass that."

"Deal. So when will my group be ready?"

"I can get them for you bright and early tomorrow morning."

"Cool. And thanks again!"

"Anytime. See ya, Kate. Anna."

When he says Anna's name, something in his voice changes ever so slightly, and the wave she gives him in return is so flirtatious that even I pick up on it.

"What was that?" I ask once we're in the hallway.

"What was what?" Anna's over-innocent look fools no one.

I elaborate, "That exchange between you and Captain Baker. Why haven't I heard about...whatever this is?"

"Come on, Kate. Jeremy is way too into his work to even consider a relationship. I've just been crushing from afar for a while. No big deal."

"No?" I ask. "Did you not see the way he was looking at you?"

"He was looking at me?!"

The eagerness in my friend's voice is funny enough that I forget to be mad at her.

"Oh, yeah," I say. "Totally."

"Hmmm," Anna considers. "Well, since I'm your maid of honor, I think I'll wait until the excitement of the wedding dies down before I start pursuing a real relationship. Otherwise, it would be too stressful."

"No way," I whisper.

"What? What's wrong?"

"You just used common sense to turn down a potential boyfriend! Quick, where's the champagne? We need to celebrate!"

"You're a turd, you know that?" growls my friend.

"Yeah, yeah," I reply offhandedly. "Now are you gonna come help me pack or what?"

She smirks. "You have so little faith in me."

Of course, by "helping me pack" she really means critiquing my wardrobe. I am trying to dress for practicality, not beauty. But no, I have to be a little more showy and a lot more fashion-forward.

"Come on," I complain. "It's not like I'm going on a date! I'm riding on horseback out into the countryside. Sebastian won't even be there to see my nice outfits before they're ruined."

"Don't be a wuss!" my friend challenges. "Go out there, look hot, and take it like a man!"

"But I'm not a man!"

Of course, then she starts singing "Be a Man" from Mulan. Every time I try to protest, mentioning that "take it like a man" and "look hot" don't mix well, at least not in the context she's using, Anna just sings louder.

Finally, I get everything I need and throw out everything Anna thinks I need. She goes back to her room, defeated, and I collapse on my bed. Curiously enough, I don't have any trouble going to sleep. The next morning, though, I'm awake before dawn. What will happen when I find my mom? Will she apologize and want to come back, or will she throw me out the door and tell me to never come back? Maybe I'm overreacting, but I've seen much stranger things happen.

When it is at last late enough to eat breakfast and head down to meet my escort, I'm still shaking. I do my best to hide it, but Anna notices right away.

"Calm down," she mumbles as she gives me a hug. "It's going to be fine; you'll see."

"Thanks," I whisper.

There are five me and one woman accompanying me. Captain Baker and Anna are the only ones who see me off, and I go through my goodbyes in a bit of a haze. I haven't left Philadelphia in more than a year, and even with an armed guard, I'm more anxious than I ever have been while traveling.

By noon, I'm hot hungry, and saddle sore. I just want to stop and rest for awhile, but I don't want to seem like some dainty little flower that needs to be watered frequently lest she wilt. No, I want to make sure that these soldiers know that I'm not leading them on some stupid errand to satisfy my prissy needs.

By three in the afternoon, I'm downright homicidal.

On the bright side, though, we are finally arriving at the orchard. I grab an apple right off a tree as we head down the path, promising myself that I'll offer to pay for it later. In the thickest part of the woods so far, gunshots are fired at our horses. I fall off and hit my head on the ground. As the world goes black, I see the blurry figures, armed with rifles and machetes, coming out of the trees.

...

When I was little, I had this weird recurring dream. I'm having it again right now.

Mickey Mouse, who I've always thought was creepy, is chasing me around, claiming to have free tickets to Disney World. Somehow, I know that if he really catches up with me, Mickey will pull a knife out from behind one of his freakishly gigantic ears.

I have to get away from the unnatural excuse for a mouse. I run up buildings, defying laws of gravity, and hurdle through a window. Inside, Snow White sits on a rocking chair, knitting.

"Snow!" I scream, forgetting this is a dream. "Help me!"

The princess stands up gracefully, a polite look of concern on her face. She holds her arms out, like she always does at this part, and I run into them like I always do.

"Dear child," coos Snow White. "Whatever is the matter? Such a young girl should never have to deal with such fear."

"He's chasing me!" I scream. "He's going to kill me!"

"Who, darling? I will protect you?"

Just then, Mickey Mouse comes back in, an evil scowl on his face. Snow turns to him, a look of delight on her face.

"Mickey!" she chirps. "How are you?"

"Oh, boy!" he exclaims. "I wanted to give Katie here free tickets to Disney World!"

"Really?" The princess smiles at me in reassurance. "Don't worry, child; all woodland creatures are to be trusted."

I gasp in horror at Snow's betrayal. How could she do this to me? She's a Disney Princess, for crying out loud!

Mickey takes that knife out from behind his ear, along with a fork, and licks his lips menacingly.

When I wake up in a cold sweat, I realize all too late that I should have stayed in the nightmare.

...

Miles waits impatiently for his friend. The past few days, Bass has been pushing the men and horses to get back to Phili long before anyone would expect them back. Why, then, are they making a stop in Ohio?

"Stay here," Miles growls to the troops, who are resting from the hard ride of the morning. No one objects as their co-leader storms into the old, abandoned storage complex.

"Bass!" he calls out. "Bass, where are you?"

"Down here!" grunts an out-of-breath voice from down the aisle. Miles runs around a corner to see his friend struggling to lift a door that's been rusted shut.

"Help me!" he gasps. Though confused, Miles grabs the bottom of the garage door and pulls up. After a few excruciating minutes, the pair manages to get it opened enough to go into the little room.

The inside of the storage unit has a few pieces of antique furniture crammed in, each of which actually seems to have beat the odds and stayed in pristine condition. A few boxes lay stacked in the corners, but otherwise, the area is surprisingly spacious.

"Bass," whispers Miles. He doesn't know why he doesn't speak at a normal voice, whether it be from the echo-y room or the look on Bass's face. "What is all this?"

The man doesn't answer right away. He has a far away look in his eyes, like the blackout never happened, like electricity hasn't even been invented yet. This stuff certainly could have been from way back then.

"Do you remember when we were little," says Bass in a choked voice, "and I used to always visit my grandparents in Ohio?"

"Yeah," breathes Miles. "What does that have to do with this?"

Again, Bass doesn't speak immediately. When he does, his speech is loaded with emotions of the past. "When they died, my dad and his sister thought that some of their inheritance was too delicate to be in a house full of crazy kids, which applied to both of them, but still to sentimental to be sold. In that box over there, there's the first camera my great-grandpa ever owned. Inside these drawers you can find my grandma's wedding dress. And in that crate, my grandpa's old baseball cards. He had a Jackie Robinson from the days he was still playing! And here..."

Bass trails off now, taking a tentative step toward an old, wooden writing desk. He pauses, then takes another step, holding out his hand. Once again he freezes, as if afraid to open the drawer. Finally, he grasps the handle and slowly pulls it toward himself.

"Bass? Is that-"

"Yes."

Miles stares at his friend in disbelief.

"Really?" he asks. "You're really that cheap?"

Bass shoves him into the wall.

"Will you shut up?" he growls. "Kate would appreciate something like this more than one I spent all the diamonds in the republic on!"

"Dude. She's a woman. They all want a really expensive engagement ring. It's a female code."

"First of all, it's 24 karat gold. And second of all, this ring has been in my family since it survived the sinking of the Titanic! It's practically sacred!"

Miles rolls his eyes. "Whatever, dude. Let's just hope your girlfriend is as much of a lady as you are."

Bass just glares at Miles. "You're the one who spent all of high school acting like the 'bad boy' for the sole purpose of taking girls out to show them your sweet, sentimental side at exactly the right moment."

"That doesn't count. All teenagers are idiots. What about that one time when you-"

"General Monroe! General Matheson! Sir!"

The two boys are spared the piss-off when Tom Neville, who had supposedly been in Philadelphia, runs in.

"Officer Neville?" asks Bass. "What are you doing here?"

By the look on his face, it's bad. He actually cringes-yes, Tom-tough-as-nails-Neville-as he hands over the message he had brought. The cringe, as well as the use of a senior officer to deliver a simple message, puts a cold ache in Bass's gut.

Bass,

You are going to freak out, but could you please try not to snap anybody's neck? Kate-

He had to close his eyes. Kate? Kate was in trouble? No, that didn't even make any sense. Bass would have known if she was hurt. He would have felt something change on the inside. What, was she having an affair or something?

No. The thought of that possibility is just ridiculous, right? Yeah, sure she deserves someone way better than him, but they are totally in love. Besides, Kate is the sort of person who would at least have the decency to break up with her fiancé if she met someone else. Except that he hasn't been around...

"Bass? Bass, what did it say?"

He blinks in surprise at Miles's worried tone. "What? Oh, I didn't read very much of it yet."

Ignoring his friend's look of concern, he continues reading the note.

Kate went on a short trip. Less than a day's journey, only a few miles outside the city, and with six armed guards. One of them came back, covered in dirt and blood, two days later, saying that everyone else had been kidnapped. Those rebels, the ones who seem to think that bringing back the United States will transform the land into a magical kingdom of happiness, apparently have a base near Phili. You should come home as soon as possible so-

Bass doesn't read the part where Jeremy mentioned the possibility of a rescue mission. He can't take any more of that stupid piece of paper. He crumples it up and throws it on the ground. A cry of rage resonates from deep inside as he lashes out on the nearest thing within arm's reach: The writing desk with the ring still in it.

How dare they let her out of their sight! He feels the wood start to splinter under his bloody fist, but it's not enough. Why would she leave when she knew I was coming right back?! The little desk crumpled under his blows, but he can't cease until something is as broken as he is. Is she okay?

Tom is long gone by this point, not wanting to get shot for being the messenger. Bass wouldn't have cared about breaking down in front of him, anyway. What even matters anymore if Kate isn't safe?

The fight leaves Bass as quickly as it came. He falls over onto his side, curling up into a ball like he hasn't done since his parents and sisters died. Real sobs, the first in more than a decade, force their way out of his throat. Miles stands off to the side, reading through the note to see what's happened. He looks at his friend, who's in a vulnerable heap on the floor, and knows it won't be enough to comfort him. If anything, it will just add an element of humiliation, which is the last thing Bass needs.

Instead, Miles sifts through the bloody wooden splinters until he finds the ring. Bass would never forgive himself if he left it behind.