There were times when the prospect of an ordinary life was an appealing notion. It was an impossible fantasy, something that he could never achieve, never even desire in truth. Did they suffer as he had? It was easy to believe they didn't, that the faceless crowds were barely human, but the last week had revealed those impressions for the conceited lies they were.
Merestan's streets were in total disarray. The military checkpoints had, for the most part, been abandoned in all but the most important sections of the city. Riots, unrest, enormous protests, and even armed resistance showed than the average citizen, as he thought of them, was more than willing to show how deeply they had suffered.
Leaning on a brick wall outside one of the few open stores in the western residential area, Edward Kirk watched with interest as an organised group of citizens coordinated a patrol group. The military had been given a choice: leave peacefully or use force to maintain control. They'd chosen to withdraw, at least for now, and it was undoubtedly the only intelligent choice.
He heard them speaking as he walked the streets. They all had so much hope that the military would side with them, that they could rely on Anton Royce to do what he'd always claimed he would and lead them to victory. It was enough to bring to a sneer to his face. Relying on one man for their salvation. It was pathetic. Others, however, were far more willing to lead in his place, and there was something admirable in that.
None of them even realised they were simply playing a part in someone else's game. When the time came to make his move and lead Royce had stumbled, told himself it would be enough to reform without the misery of revolution. Kirk knew better, and he knew self-deception when he saw it. Eliza Anders understood this and she was undoubtedly punishing the colonel for his imagined transgressions. It was what he would have done in her place, and the realisation made him uncomfortable.
"Hey, wake up. I bought most of it, let's get out of here," a soft voice whispered in his ear. Blinking rapidly, he saw the voice made a good point. The crowd was growing with each passing minute.
"Nobody following you?" he asked, turning to leave for the least busy direction.
"Don't be paranoid. Everyone's too busy to care about us," she replied, a hint of admonishment in her calm voice.
It was difficult not to be paranoid. Only a week had passed since his ridiculous scheme to thwart Anders' supposed hostage exchange plot had been put into action. Given her history Jane should have understood the risk just as well as he did, unless she was simply hiding her fear.
The two of them had the unfortunate task of purchasing supplies. Regina was too injured and Harper was so irritable and sullen that they hadn't asked, but he was potentially in more danger than the rest of them to begin with. Living in a warehouse was difficult, but they had few other options. Leaving the city would be next to impossible, and it wasn't as if they had anywhere to go. Fortunately most of the violence was centred on the more affluent or influential parts of the city; for the most part the streets were clear of corpses, the western districts' residents showing unusual solidarity in their cause.
"They tripled the price of medical equipment because of the riots, you know. How disgusting," Jane said, making idle conversation. The price was fairly inconsequential, given Harpers' grudging admission that he and Anders had siphoned off military funding for their own purposes for years, giving them more than enough money to stay alive, at the very least.
"Idiots. These people would sell rope to their own executioner, wouldn't they?" he replied, taking a careful look back before turning a corner. How was he supposed to know if he was being followed?
"Doesn't this city import its food from the south? Maybe that's why everything's more expensive," she said, motioning at him to follow.
"I've never been any further south than here, so I don't know. If they've stopped exporting it's even more obvious that they're lost control of an entire district without so much as a fight," he said, ignoring his surroundings once again while she did the work. Jane nodded, again remaining silent.
As they approached the industrial area, free from the incessant sounds of machinery at work due to a long series of general strikes, it was hard to reconcile his growing sense of hopelessness with the reality that for the first time in years the feeling of weight in his chest had grown lighter. He, along with so many others, was quite likely to be dead by the end of the year, but he felt more alive now than he had for far too long.
Even the woman next to him, calm and soft-spoken and dangerous as she could be, treated him as if he were her friend, and it was growing harder to ignore the reality that perhaps he actually did have relationships based on more than mutual need for what must have been the first time in his life.
"Nobody's following us today either. We'll head straight back, alright?" she said, calm as ever. All this stealth made him uncomfortable. They knew what they were doing; as far as he could tell, both she and Harper had been forced to learn these survival skills well before adulthood.
He nodded, though Jane was too busy looking at a small crowd of workers on the other side of the street to notice. Two of them stared back and she pulled her long coat even tighter, immediately looking away. He was never going to get used to that. Dealing with Regina was easier even if her personality was much more abrupt; nothing had ever broken her composure in his experience, and if a protracted torture session wasn't going to do it he didn't know what would.
A surprisingly forceful breeze greeted them as they emerged onto the side road concealing their makeshift hideout. The warm blue sky and unexpectedly hot wind felt entirely wrong, though the citizens' militia members filling the streets looked to appreciate the comfortable weather.
It was only after Jane made her final assessment of their surroundings and unlocked the side door that he realised he'd let her carry three heavy bags for twenty minutes without offering to assist.
"… Not going to have the luxury of waiting forever, and we both know it even—"
Entering the dusty warehouse and blinking once or twice to adjust to the light, and then again to adjust to the sight before him, he stopped abruptly in the doorway and felt Jane's head hit the back of his with a sharp crack. The speaker's words were far louder than the background noise of the state channel emanating from an old television precariously sitting on a crate.
Regina was reclining on their poor excuse for a couch listening to a clearly agitated Harper. He stopped mid-sentence, staring at them both.
"Don't feel obligated to stop on my account," Edward said while they entered, Jane hastily dumping a few days' supplies on the floor. A twitch of irritation on Harper's face hinted that he'd been slightly too scornful with those words, but it was hard to care.
"It's nothing important, just forget it," Regina said with enough finality to close the issue. Neither of them pressed the issue.
"Streets still full of rioters?" she asked, making an obvious attempt to ease the tension.
"More or less. The military's completely withdrawn from this area. Whether that's a good thing or not, who can say?"
"I can," Harper said. "Anything that hurts the military is fine by me. They're tearing themselves apart. We should keep the momentum going before they all get bored and go home."
Regina groaned loudly and stared at the ceiling, as exasperated as he'd ever seen her. "You need to give it a rest."
Edward looked from her, calm and collected, to the man she was addressing. When his façade had finally cracked none of them had expected the change to be so permanent.
"You've indirectly complimented your enemy, you realise? Not that I expect you forgot that. Odds are she's behind this mess in the south too. You know, in our last conversation she told me to tell you she's still going to 'do it', whatever that means," he said, restraining the urge to resort to sarcasm.
"And I haven't forgotten your promise either. Easy enough to agree to help us crush them when you wanted help rescuing her,' Harper said, pointing sharply at Regina, "but now that it's done you're a pacifist. I assumed you were lying when you told that military bastard you'd stay out of this, but apparently not."
The harshness in his voice went beyond anger, approaching resentment. How was he supposed to respond when the accusation was entirely correct? He'd told both Harper and Gail what they'd wanted to hear so they'd ignore their distrust and do as he wanted. Simply ignoring the issue entirely wasn't proving as effective a stratagem as he'd hoped.
Lying. That was the best option. He shrugged. "How do you expect me to help you? We're in hiding and entirely powerless. Even if we weren't, between the military, Royce's armies, and whatever Anders is doing, we'd be exposing ourselves to far too much risk for no reward."
"You're the worst liar I ever met, Kirk. You think I don't know when someone's lying? I didn't get half my friends killed stealing those devices just so you can sit here and tell me you've changed your mind," Harper said, taking a step forward, his expression losing any semblance of neutrality.
"What do you want me to do? Even if the Third Energy was functional, and even if we did control a generator, destroying the military is what Anders wants, and I'm not going to do anything that helps her. Are you?" Kirk replied, holding his ground. Harper was intimidating, but he'd never been prone to unprovoked violence just because a conversation went the wrong way.
"Just what do you think you're implying?" Harper asked. He took an almost unconscious step forward, his jaw clenched with clear anger. A firm hand on Harper's upper arm came as a welcome distraction, and the man turned sharply to see Jane holding him back. For once she did look troubled.
"Come on, we're going outside. You've said enough," she said, and to their surprise Harper followed without argument, his harsh features softening as she spoke.
The door slammed shut behind them and Regina exhaled sharply, sinking back in the seat. "That was getting bad. I thought you'd figured this out by now, but some people respond really badly to that approach. Even if you weren't lying, and I know you were."
Of course, she'd known for too long. Known ever while held captive. "You're right. I think I knew it, but I couldn't stop myself."
Regina snorted derisively and shifted to one side. The sight of her right hand was still off-putting. Sometimes he thought it bothered him more than it did her.
"Just remember," she said, throwing her right arm over the side of the couch, "if you pick a fight with him now I'm in no shape to get you out of it. It's a good thing she can calm him down. You're always picking fights with the wrong people, you ever realise that?"
He took the seat next to her, still oddly uncomfortable with their proximity. More so with the ordinariness of the situation, in truth.
"So you said you'd help him get revenge in return for what? And Gail? Where'd all this diplomacy come from, 'cause I'm having a hard time seeing it," she continued, raising an eyebrow. He couldn't help but notice her black hair dye was fading, revealing a more natural shade of red underneath.
"You're that oblivious? I said it so they'd help me pull you out of that mess, a mess you could have avoided if you weren't so overconfident."
"Yeah, I knew that, just wanted to make you admit it. Sorry."
"Never satisfied, are you?"
"Is anyone?" She waved her left hand dismissively, grimacing slightly. "That's a lie. Like I said, I'm grateful. I'm used to being expendable, to tell you the truth."
"Why would anyone ever join the military? It was a blunt, abrupt question, but something he'd genuinely wanted to know for more years than he could count. Becoming a disposable tool for society's elite had little appeal, despite how close he'd edged to that fate.
Regina shrugged and looked over at him directly. "Why does anyone do anything? They think it'll be worthwhile. Nice uniform, better salary, and it feels like you're actually contributing to something."
"Did you know?" He pointed flatly at the door, hoping she'd take the hint.
"Not really. I knew there were things a lot of the older veterans and officers wouldn't talk about. Gail never spoke about his early years, so we guessed it wasn't good. Anders told me, you know. Everything they'd done, all the messed up little details she could remember."
Regina scowled, losing her cheerfulness for a moment. "After all that, I even told her I was done with the military. Not taking another order without reason, you know? Not long after that she cut my finger off. Said it was your fault for being a liar, but I could swear she thought it would help me in her own sick way."
"He's fine with that change in priority. Or he said he was."
Her brow furrowed in confusion. "You're being vague again. Who? Harper? Why should he care?"
"Your old boss. Gail," Kirk replied with a slight twitch. He'd never liked saying names directly.
She managed a short laugh but couldn't quite conceal her surprise. "I thought he'd want to bring me in for questioning. I wasn't sure whether I was more surprised to see you or him that night. Always knew he had a soft spot somewhere."
They fell silent for a moment, the silence only broken by the warehouse's industrial fans softly rotating and the murmuring voices on the state channel.
"I don't know if you're the one to ask," Regina finally said, a slight, almost imperceptible, hint of hesitation in her voice, "but what happens to us next? It's not that I mind taking a break, but someone's going to come looking sooner or later."
It was a question he'd wanted to avoid, in truth. With her, himself, or anyone. Ever since their first meeting after Ibis Island they'd relied on Harper to dictate their course of action. Now it was hard to say. If Regina was asking that she understood more than he'd realised.
He remained silent to buy time for thought, her intense stare making that especially difficult.
"I don't know. You want honesty, and there it is. If we do what Harper wants I think all four of us will be dead by the end of the year. He'd like that, I can see it in his eyes. One last moment of reprisal and then it's over."
"I don't think I can do it," he continued, leaning forward and running an agitated hand through his hair. "I thought I knew how to be callous. In hindsight all I can see is misplaced pride. You saw what's she's like. How do I stop someone like that? How can anyone?"
"You find out what she's really like under that mask. Same as I did with you, and you did with me. Everyone's hiding something," Regina replied, making it clear she'd hoped he'd have come to the same conclusion by now. "Or you hide until this is done. I don't think there's much middle ground anymore."
"You make it sound so easy," he objected, waving one arm dismissively, which she caught in her left hand and squeezed.
"Not easy. I stopped trying to ignore hard truths a long time ago. Surprised you haven't, all things considered. Maybe that's why she outsmarted you."
Releasing his arm, Regina leaned forward and groaned again. "I hate having to ask, but could you help change these bandages? I've been putting it off for too long, and I don't want to ask Jane again."
Momentarily taken aback, Edward stared in surprise. "Why not? I can do it, of course. An infection would be inconvenient at a time like this."
Regina reached for a medical kit by the side and the couch and threw it at him. "I can tell it makes her uncomfortable, that's all. I saw her scars. You try having your arm carved apart just once, it's not something I'd recommend. At least I avoided the worst of it."
This obliviousness to obvious truths was becoming frustrating. Opting for silence, he set to work carefully unravelling the mass of bandages covering her left arm from the wrist to the shoulder, grimacing at the mess underneath. Not for the first time he noticed her extraordinary physical condition, the lean muscle under her ruined skin visible with the slightest movement.
"Less staring, more working. Doctor Kirk, that's what they called you. Live up to your title."
He didn't fall for the obvious bait, at least, but reached for the fresh roll of bandages with a slight smile. Her sense of humour was appealing, able to make light of even the darkest situations with ease.
"What do you mean, the worst of it?" It was something he'd wondered ever since seeing her chained to that chair.
For once her expression darkened, and the muscles in her arm stiffened involuntarily. "You know as well as I do. It could have happened, but it didn't. Not everyone on Anders' side is a sociopath, I learned that much." She fell silent for a moment, visibly altered her grim look with effort, and looked back at him. "Keep going. You've still got to do my leg after this, if you can be bothered. I really hate being so useless."
Finishing his work with more skill than either of them had expected, Regina lowered her arm, fell back on the seat and stretched her long leg out with a slight frown. "Thanks. Shouldn't need these for much longer. Only a few of the cuts were deep, but that—"
She broke off as the door opened again, reaching down with her freshly bandaged. To Edward's surprise, he realised she still kept a pistol within reach. A prudent measure, something he hadn't considered. Intellectual details were one thing, but he'd only ever skilfully dealt with the physical world in an abstract, scientific sense.
"Don't mind me," said Jane's listless voice, staring at the state broadcast while she closed the door. As always they were broadcasting what might as well be blatant propaganda. He heard her approach, likely drawn by well-founded doubts about his medical skills.
The bandaging, centred on the wound just above her knee, showed signs of recent bleeding. Clearly she'd been moving too much even though it seemed to be healing well otherwise, as Jane confirmed with some examination.
"This is so uncomfortable, you know that?" Regina muttered, looking back at the ceiling. "Hey, why'd you come back alone?"
He was certain a flicker of annoyance flashed across Jane's face, but it was gone as quickly as it'd arrived. "He's going out for a while. What do you expect after saying something like that?"
"Was I wrong?" It was a poor choice to continue this argument. "Once we've annihilated anyone powerful enough to hold this country together he's got no interest in what happens next. Even if I agreed, the first move we make and they'll find us."
"You promised you'd help. You knew what that meant and you still agreed. Now you're not going to do it." Her words were free from accusation, simply stating an undeniable truth. Somehow it was harder to hear her calm statement of fact than any of Harper's intense accusations.
"And you disapprove, I suppose?"
Finished, she returned the medical kit to its place and shrugged. "I understand. It might be best to do nothing. Not sure yet." Once again she was using every tool in her power, from her controlled voice to the long hair masking her face, to hide her actual thoughts. "I can say that lying to him isn't going to end well. You're a little like her, you know? Not too much, but enough."
"She's got a point. Remember Ibis Island and all that ranting you did? Anders did that too, and she even does that other thing you do. You know, pretending to be all cold inside and letting it out in bursts of weirdness," Regina said, an insolent smirk growing with each word. At least one of them wasn't taking it seriously. "Come to think of it, if you don't get a haircut soon you'll look a bit like her. Bony face, unhealthily thin… not much chest..." She broke off after eliciting a rare spurt of laughter from Jane and leaned back with a satisfied smile.
"When you have as much to think about as I do such worldly matters as haircuts are easily forgotten. You wouldn't understand, of course," Edward replied, feigning complete and even melodramatic seriousness. He stood and stretched to loosen the stiffness in his shoulders. Her comparison, amusing or not, was enough to make him uncomfortable.
"Hey, you two give it a rest for a minute would you? Something's happening," Jane said, sitting on the couch's armrest and pointing at the broadcast. Regina's stare told him wasn't quite finished with him yet. That could be entertaining, at least.
"On the state channel? I've been watching this for days. Nothing's ever happening," Regina said, but she leaned forward again to take a look anyway.
For once, however, Edward was surprised to see she was mistaken. His last encounter with the state channel had been while a captive, forced to watch a dual speech held by Hereson and Royce, the latter's words filled with thinly veiled insubordination, the former nothing but inconsequential lies.
"… showing a second live broadcast from Polostin's southern command centre. A repeat of our first interview with Polostin's military leadership will be shown at six this evening. After the district's stunning decision to declare itself independent only three days ago, we've been given permission to broadcast certain footage as a direct response to the military's decision to reposition artillery within firing range of Polostin's outer residential area," a blonde newscaster said, masking any emotion with her carefully monitored professionalism.
"After the stunt they pulled during the massacre this ought to be interesting," Regina said, making an attempt to stand up and pulling back, obviously frustrated.
Not that she was wrong. The displayed footage had been nothing short of gruesome, showcasing the worst examples of brutality, as if they'd wanted to paint the military in as poor a light as possible. Nobody believed their attempts to claim rebellion in the ranks had been to blame, even though it was almost certainly true. If the rumours were true up to half the garrison had defected, something he'd usually have found hilarious.
A wide shot of a similar fortress to the western command centre was shown, though this one was built on level ground, placed on the outskirts of a smaller city. The fields of crops and grassy plains would've been tranquil under normal circumstances, but a heavy military presence ruined the effect entirely.
The newscaster continued speaking, giving all the required context with the usual bias, though again: the military was portrayed in an ever so slightly negative manner.
"I don't recognise any of these people," he announced, an indirect way of telling them both that the various officers and officials responsible for the secession couldn't possibly be of importance. Regina was quickly losing interest, opting to pull at the bandages on her arm instead.
"I do. See in the back? Past the military guys, standing by the exit." Jane murmured, glancing over to see if he was listening. Both of them looked up immediately, scanning the scene. A mass of blue-uniformed officers were speaking to representatives from the western and central districts while the media waited respectfully in the back.
A sharp gasp from his right was enough to confirm something was wrong. Regina stood up, ignoring the pain, and knelt down next to the screen.
"That doesn't make any sense. Not any, you understand?" This was new. A hint of anxiety, uncertainty, in her almost permanently relaxed voice.
The two by the rear exit looked to be waiting for something, one a man in a vaguely formal outfit, the other a foreign woman in a short black dress. The camera was positioned to show every person in the comfortably appointed, almost rustic, meeting room.
"This is bad. Or maybe it's not, I don't know," Regina said, looking back at them for only a second. "Kirk, you have to remember. The third member of our team on Ibis Island? You met him at the heliport. That's him. I'd recognise him anywhere. I always wondered what happened… but that can't be right."
"She's a Borginian official," Jane murmured. Neither of them questioned her.
Truthfully he'd all but forgotten the man. Without Gail's frustrating persistence and threatening demeanour or Regina's far more interesting personality the man, Rick, was it, had been deemed uninteresting.
The interview continued without pause. For them to be allowed in the same room as the command staff and elected officials of the southern district, well, he could only see one real explanation. An enormous man, taller than anyone he'd ever met, separated from the media staff's group and approached them both.
Regina burst into laughter and covered her face with the palm of her hand. There was an uncomfortable edge to the sound. "I get it. This is the real show, not the interview. Is this for our benefit? That guy, the one pretending to be from the media? He runs the Borginian militia they've been so busy trying to stop. I'm barely even surprised."
"How do you know?"
More laughter, even harsher than before. Something was undoubtedly wrong this time, and he didn't know how to handle it. "Because he was right there with Anders when they cut me apart. Told me his whole life story. Now he's meeting Rick? What happened to us, can one of you tell me? When did it all turn to shit? I just can't remember anymore."
"Don't assume anything." It was poor advice, but what else was he supposed to say? It wasn't hard to make the obvious connections.
"What a joke, hearing that from you," Regina shot back, standing up despite the difficulty. "Don't pretend you don't see it either."
The screen turned black before he could answer, and so did the warehouse's interior. Fortunate timing, considering neither he nor Regina ever refused the chance to argue, but a muffled boom several blocks down was enough to replace his sense of relief with anxiety.
"You two argue too much," Jane whispered, staring out the half-open shutter. "I don't know what's happening, but there are people on the streets again." Regina limped over to take a look, but he was sure she was only doing it to hide her expression from them both.
"Your friend is with them now," he stated, making no attempt to hide his confidence. She could handle the truth.
"You think I don't know that?" she snapped back. Turning with more haste than he'd seen since her return, Regina left for the back office and locked the door behind her, ignoring the pain in her leg entirely.
He stood there motionless for some time, replaying the conversation in his mind and analysing potential causes for her abrupt change in mood. Was it such an error to say what they were all thinking? The sounds of a gathering crowd could be heard in the distance, and not for the first time.
"You're not very good at this, are you?" Jane said, looking back with a faint smile.
"I'm working on it," he said, forcing himself to meet her gaze. It was so tiring, forcing himself to put on these performances. "I was right, wasn't I? Anders' man controls the state media, Royce's man, her friend, is in Polostin; therefore the southern district has surrendered to them without a fight? They're sending a message through the media to those in a position to understand it?"
"Why are you even asking? We all know. You think she needed you to point it out?"
They watched each other for a long moment, and he felt more was said with that long stare than in any of her words. He turned to leave with a stiff nod, each step heavier than the last.
"I know you're a liar, Edward. I know you used us; I know why. I won't tell him. Not yet." Jane's words were soft, remarkably so for their honesty. Edward looked back expecting a confrontation, but she'd already turned away.