The streets of Sacramento are dense. Clint has been eyeing the houses and buildings they pass carefully, but they still have yet to see a soul. He and Ellie are in the backseat of the bigass truck, now. Supposedly the windows are all bulletproof. It's no joke. They'd switched vehicles after sunrise breakfast. They're both running on catnaps and adrenaline. They're almost there.
The caravan had been stopped on the I-5 at the edge of the city. It's a wall of vehicles, not even the truck could push through. So they'd taken to the streets.
According to Grayson, Sacramento is one of the cities that was hit hardest at outbreak. FEDRA had never been able to reclaim it, so there's no wall. They'd seen infected, here and there. The caravan makes a hell of a lot of noise. Runners would come out from between some buildings, and they'd get iced pretty quick by sharpshooters in the vehicles around them. There are two Humvees in front of them, and two behind. And a bunch of trucks behind them, more than one full of soldiers. The Humvees behind Clint and Ellie both have those massive, armored machine guns mounted on the back, both manned. God help anyone who attacks them now.
Grayson is showing his version of max caution. His body language is easy, but his eyes vigilantly scan the horizon. He's ready. He keeps the comms tight. At one point one of the soldiers had made a joke on a channel, a short little quip, and Grayson hadn't hesitated.
"Ease off the comms," he spoke into the radio.
It was quiet for a while after that.
Grayson turns back to them at one point. "Eyes up, kids."
Clint and Ellie look, and over the tops of nearby houses, over an elevated freeway, he can see a group of tall buildings. The Med Center.
He looks at Ellie, excited. She looks more nervous than ever, though.
"Easy, Ellie. We're almost there. No force on Earth short of a FEDRA army could stop us now."
She nods, and looks out the window. "Just a weird position to be in."
"Relax, kids," says Grayson. "Any shitbags around here do try something, and they'll be sorry. And it'll be DEFCON 1 long before you two discharge your weapons."
"That's what's weird," says Ellie.
They pull around a corner strewn with abandoned vehicles. The tunnel of an underpass appears before them. Once they cross under the freeway, they'll be almost there.
And when they're about a hundred feet from it, a city bus rolls down the off ramp, running into a cement wall and blocking them.
"Showtime, Ax!" shouts Grayson.
The Humvees in front of them pull to the sides of the street, and Axel lays into the throttle.
Gunfire starts going off all around them. Bullets bounce off the hood of the truck, even off the windshield. A rifle bullet hits in front of Axel, but all it succeeds in doing is making a white blotch in the glass.
"Sons of bitches!" shouts Axel.
At some point, Clint doesn't know when, he and Ellie had taken each other's hand. He looks at her. She's as scared as him.
The truck's engine is roaring, and when they impact the bus, it flips on its side and starts dragging across the road. The shock squeezes Clint's chest under the seatbelt. The truck doesn't stop, and eventually the buss gets pushed longwise against the wall of the underpass, and they're through.
The machine guns behind them are making the loudest gunblasts Clint has ever heard. People are shouting on the freeway above them. Axel doesn't stop, and they pull into the daylight on the other side of the tunnel. Grayson is shouting terse directions as they hit intersections. Now, the two Humvees pull around them and resume their place in the front of the train. As they're turning, Clint can see behind them, and the caravan is indeed rolling without stopping. A Molotov has caused a fire on one of the canvas covers of the troop transports, but it's small and not spreading. Fire is issuing from every vehicle he can see.
"There she is!" shouts Grayson.
They're in a wider open area. The complex looms huge in front of them, at least ten buildings, some more than ten stories. The truck pulls right up a landscaped embankment into a parking lot.
Grayson continues instructing Axel where to turn.
Two pickup trucks with guys in the back come into view on an intercept vector. The machine guns start going off and basically rip the vehicles apart. On bursts into flame, and the other loses control, crashing into a streetlight.
They pull into a narrow street between a low building and a parking garage. There's a building complex at the end of it. There are glass sliding doors that say 'South Entrance' on top.
"Install us!" commands Grayson.
Axels steps on the gas and they blast right into the building. After the deafening crashing sounds are over, they have ground to a stop in a lobby area, lit by the truck's headlights. They can hear infected in the building.
"Alpha, delta, Lima, Quebec, on command!" Grayson shouts into the radio. "Everyone else, secure the entrance and form a perimeter!"
There's screeching on the street behind them, and some more gunfire in the distance. The sounds of boots surround the truck and soldiers pour into view around them. Abby is there. Three runners come out of a hallway in front of them. They're down in less than two seconds. Smoke wafts from the tip of Abby's barrel.
"Out!" Grayson says.
Clint lets go of Ellie's hand and they jump out of the vehicle.
"Weapons hot!" Grayson issues. "Drop 'em long! We're going up!" He looks at Clint and Ellie. "You two on my ass."
Grayson's bearing a rifle too, but he doesn't aim it. He walks toward a nearby hallway, and they follow him. He seems to already know the layout of the building.
The soldiers are showing their training. The surround them automatically, and only those in the front or back shoot.
Almost a dozen runners appear in that first minute, as well as a couple clickers. None get closer than twenty feet. At one point a guy's mag empties, and when he falls back to reload, the guy behind him instantly takes his place, barrel up.
They're walking down hallways lined with dark offices. Outside light is poor, but they all have flashlights. At another point a guy discharges suddenly into a dark office. He gets some looks. "Stalker," he says.
They come up on a metal door with a Firefly symbol painted next to it. Clint frowns. When did that get there?
The soldiers open it and proceed through. Grayson never stops. They climb ten flights this way, but they don't encounter any infected. The landing doors are all closed. On floor six or seven, a runner starts pounding on the other side of the door, but they ignore it.
When they exit the stairs, the floor is quiet. There's a soldier standing at the end of the hallway with a rifle, waiting for them. Clint frowns again, then it hits him. The Fireflies who discovered the Med Center never left. The soldier salutes as they approach.
"Madsen," Grayson acknowledges. They walk through the door and are in a large room with several desks, three of which are occupied. All the soldiers stand and salute.
"Stand down," says Grayson. "Time for shooting, not saluting."
"At your command, sir."
Everyone is in the room, now. "This floor is secure?" Grayson asks.
"And the two above it, sir."
"Alpha, delta, join these fine men and women at whatever vantages they've established around the floor. I want eyes in every direction, no surprises. Kill every foreign on sight unless they are waving a white fucking flag."
"Yes, sir!" the Fireflies reply in unison and there is a flurry of movement.
"Marshall, where are you?" Grayson looks around and meets the eyes of a younger woman with black, curly hair. She approaches. "I need intel. These guys gonna push for a long fight?"
Clint's head is spinning. That was a whirlwind, he looks at Ellie. "Ellie, I think we're safe."
She looks as stunned as him. She looks down at her nine millimeter in her hand, then holsters it.
"And you two stay close to me until the shooting is over, got it?" says Grayson.
Ellie nods. She looks around, then walks over to a couple chairs against the wall and sits in one of them. Clint sits next to her.
"I should like…" he starts. "Go help probably, right?"
She shakes her head. "If I don't get to, you don't get to."
He scoffs.
The gunfire is sparser now. Ten or twenty seconds will pass between a flurry of shots.
"These guys were not ready to deal with us," Clint says.
"Not under Grayson," Ellie mutters.
"These guys do not fuck around."
"The Fireflies have been fighting for existence for years," says Ellie. "It's probably just the toughest motherfuckers left."
"I guess so." Clint eyes her. "You alright?"
Ellie's hands are clasped and she's leaning on her knees, looking down. She's tense, he can tell. "I'll be fine when the shooting stops."
Yeah, it's pretty weird to be in the middle of a full-tilt battle and told to do nothing. He wants to hug her, but it's not the time. "Yeah," he ends up saying.
In the end, the fighting goes on for a couple hours. Clint overhears Marshall's debriefing, and the radio chatter. The building is secure not long after their arrival. The outsiders have no play, they're out manned, outgunned, and outtrained. The ambush was a mistake to begin with. What's more, there is more than one faction.
The Great Staters enjoy operating out of the capitol, dominating downtown and midtown. The Free Faction is based to the East, past the river, but both factions scavenge the areas between. And they hate each other's guts, making skirmishes common. The Med Center is essentially no man's land, which is good for them.
It was the Great Staters that ambushed them. Once the Fireflies took the building and scared off anyone who might approach, the fight continued, but between the GS and the FF, which showed up on scene afterward, trying to capitalize on what is obviously an opportunity for a huge score. Doesn't go well for either faction, essentially turning into trench warfare. It's a stalemate, and eventually, the area is quiet again.
The Fireflies based out of here decided on secrecy, their base remaining undiscovered. They tactically elected not to attempt trade with either faction. Limited ammo has stymied their ability to clear much of the complex, but they've managed to hang in here, with no casualties since they first took the building.
This is a long term care wing. Marshall claims there will be beds for every soldier, but they're low on food.
"We can help with that," says Grayson.
"Filet mignon and champagne?" Marshall asks.
"Nope," says Grayson with his muted amusement. "But you won't go hungry."
The afternoon sun is warm, pouring in through the windows. There are still a few hours of light left. Grayson turns to Marshall, clearly in command of the group of soldiers stationed here.
"How many did you lose, in the end?" Grayson asks her.
"Since embarking?" she replies. "Twelve of my thirty. Every one saw their honors. It was a gnarly trek, ain't gonna deny that."
"S'why I picked you all." Grayson puts a hand on her shoulder. "You had a tough job and you showed up. You will all be commensurately rewarded, and honored, indeed."
There's feeling under the surface for Marshall, Clint can tell. But she's a soldier, and she keeps up her face. "Thank you, sir."
"In the end, you and all you gave orders to will have been instrumental in this thing, make no mistake."
It moves Marshall. "Thank you, sir."
Ellie's watching them. Clint can see sadness in her eyes.
Grayson half turns in their direction. Marshall looks over at Clint, then Ellie, where her gaze lingers.
"Just one piece left, Marshall," says Grayson. He walks to the window and clasps his hands behind his back.
"We last heard from Watanabe's group yesterday. They were not far from the city."
"Excellent," Grayson replies. Then he speaks in lower, more casual tones. "Imagine that. Enough to give you whiplash."
"No kidding, sir."
In the end, the Fireflies take a handful of injuries, but not a single casualty.
Ellie is chewing on one of her fingernails. She catches herself and stops. She's trying not to make that a habit. She shifts her position on the bed.
Clint plays a 7. It puts the total to 17. It's all good though, because she plays a seven on top of it, bringing it to 24.
"Pair," she says, "two points." She moves her peg up two.
"Ooh, hoo hoo," says Clint, smiling inexplicably. He proceeds to play a third 7. "Triple and sum 31. Eight points. Not bad at all…" He moves his peg.
"No way! Eight points? Don't peg that shit!"
"Why, it just happened."
"That's not in the rules!"
"Oh, you're teaching me, now?"
"How is that eight points?"
"You count each card individually. Three cards, and three combinations of cards that make a pair. Three pair, six points. Plus, I hit 31, plus, I played the last card."
"Asshole!"
"Yep."
Cribbage sucks, she decides. "We're playing chess next time."
"Find a board, then."
Ellie's legitimately annoyed, but this is about all she could ask for right now.
It was a weird damn day. After the fighting stopped, she and Clint made the slow and surreal transition from fear of death back to total boredom. The sun set a while ago, and they're sitting on the beds they'd been assigned between their privacy curtains. A little half-room, just for the two of them. There's a little table just big enough for them to play the game on.
Soldiers all around them are settling in as well. Some pull the night shift, but the rest are basically celebrating. She can see a guy hand a girl a bottle of whiskey right now. Chatter is fairly muted, but there's a low key party vibe. It feels nice. Even better, she's not the center of attention. She and Clint have their own little space carved out of it.
It's helping to take her mind off things.
"I'm glad neither of us thought to bring a deck out of Jackson," says Ellie.
"Oh, come on," says Clint. "Here, I'll start with a nine."
Ellie plays. "Six, bitch. Last card." She moves her peg.
"You're welcome."
There's movement and they turn to see Abby and Lev come around their curtain. When Lev sees her, his eyes light up.
"Ellie!" Without hesitation, he runs over and jumps on the bed next to her, sitting cross legged, like her. He could be her little brother. She can't help but smile.
Abby's smiling too, but it's for Lev, not her. Abby walks over and leans against Clint's bed, crossing her arms. She studies the table. "Cribbage, huh?"
"Apparently," says Ellie.
"First round and he's already leading by ten?" Abby asks.
"You wanna shuffle up?" Ellie asks, further annoyed.
"Do it," she says. Clint scoops up the cards and starts shuffling. Ellie resets the pegs on the board.
"How do you play this game?" Lev asks, brow furrowed.
"Well, to begin with—" Clint starts.
"It makes no sense," says Ellie.
Clint rolls his eyes. "You know I know you're not actually that sore about it."
"He cheats," Ellie whispers to Lev. He grins.
"You get to know Ellie," says Clint, "and you quickly learn she can be difficult on purpose."
Ellie screws up her face. She looks at Lev and shakes her head, rolling her eyes. Lev laughs out loud.
Lev is new to the game, but he learns pretty quickly. Abby's actually not bad. She goes after Clint, and she keeps getting plays off of him. It's starting to bug him, which pleases Ellie greatly.
"So what's going on out there?" Ellie asks Abby.
She's surprised at first. "Why are you asking me?"
"I get the impression you're in Grayson's circle."
"I'm a grunt," Abby replies, studying the table. "But he trusts me, yeah. It's pretty much what you'd expect. Those guys lost hard. We suspect they're gonna keep close eyes on us, but probably no further serious attacks." She makes a play. It's Lev's turn. He gets a serious look and studies his hand. It's cute. "Like it or not, we're a player in this region now. I did hear him say that when the opportunity arises, we'll even try to establish trade. They'll doubtful offer weapons, and they sure as hell aren't getting any of ours, but we might be able to get some food off of them."
"Smart," says Ellie. Lev plays and Ellie follows it without thinking about it too much.
Abby keeps glancing at her. Ellie doesn't like it. She's pretty sure she's seeing what Clint is seeing. She should be happy, relaxed, like everyone else on the floor, but she's trying her best to hide that she's stressed out.
"Is something on your mind, Ellie?" asks Lev.
It takes them all by surprise, and play stops. Lev's brown eyes are so… piercing, and gentle at the same time. It reminds her of Eddie, strangely.
She thinks of attributing it to the game, but that would be a weak lie. She doesn't have a good response.
"I just—"
A couple gunshots sound off, in the distance, then some more.
They all freeze up. Abby jumps off the bed, Ellie right behind her. Ellie follows her down the hallway, where other Fireflies are climbing out of their beds, too. Abby looks over her shoulder. "Ellie, you need to stay here."
Ellie clenches her teeth but stops, allowing Lev to pass her. "Keep me in the loop, at least?"
Abby looks over her shoulder again. "When I'm not under strict orders, yeah."
She stops before turning the corner, talking to someone. "Oh, shit," Ellie can hear her say. They disappear around the corner.
"Clint," Ellie says, not even having to look to know he's right behind her. "Stay close to the packs."
He frowns. "Okay, but there's no way anyone pushes in here."
"Yeah, still."
They resume their places on the beds, packs next to them. They don't resume play.
The gunshots are frequent for a few minutes, but it doesn't last. They're on the same floor as the conference room, which is now command central. After the initial activity, the floor is pretty quiet, and Ellie can hear a lot of chatter coming from command, but it's too far away to make anything out.
She looks at Clint, and he returns it, but there's nothing to be said. Nothing, except…
She decides all at once to tell him, and when she does, she doesn't like how much emotion is in her voice. "Clint—"
She hears the stairway door open, and a lot of footsteps. Something is happening. Without another word she gets off the bed and walks around the corner. Some Fireflies are doing the same.
A stream of well armored Japanese men are issuing from the stairwell. Their guns are down, but they move with the stiff gait of well-trained soldiers on an operation. Finally, a man in a camel sports coat and slacks walks through the door, followed by a woman in a white dress.
The man looks around curiously at the Fireflies present. He meets Ellie's eyes for a moment. He smiles. It's warm. He turns, and sees Grayson at the end of the hall.
"Well, look what the cat dragged in!" says Grayson loudly, walking down the hall toward the man. When he reaches him, they hug without hesitation. The man doesn't say anything, but he's laughing. It's a great moment.
"Let's get you situated and apprised," Grayson says, putting his arm on the man's back and guiding him. Before he turns back toward the conference room, he notices Ellie. He beckons her with a single finger.
"Stay here," she says for some reason to Clint, who she again knows is behind her.
The Japanese soldiers line the hallway, not really having anywhere else to go. As Ellie walks between them, it feels kind of like a gauntlet. When she catches the eyes of one of them, though, he nods politely.
The lighting on the floor is dim, since it's late, but the conference room is bright as day. The man is sitting in a chair in the middle of the floor across from Grayson. There are a lot of people in the room. Ellie swallows.
"I hope you brought that sake you promised," says Grayson.
The man's face is curious and receptive. The woman in the white dress, sitting next to him, translates in Japanese. The man smiles and nods his head, speaking in Japanese.
"Business first," the woman says.
"Of course, of course." Grayson looks at Ellie. "And as it happens, business has just arrived."
The woman starts speaking again, and the man looks at Ellie with interest. He stands and crosses the room to her, bowing slightly and extending his hand. "Watanabe Shoji," he says.
Ellie feels light headed. She sways slightly. She takes his hand. "Ellie," she says. The man smiles, then resumes his seat. Grayson is watching her curiously. He gestures for her to sit. She does, and Clint, who had apparently ignored her instruction, sits next to her.
Dr. Watanabe speaks again.
"The California landscape is beautiful, especially this time of year," the woman translates.
"Indeed," says Grayson. "Especially when one may observe it safely. I'm pleased to hear you had a successful trek from the coast."
"Me as well," translates the woman. "Not a single life lost. We could not ask for more."
Ellie swallows.
They speak for a while. Grayson tells Watanabe that they have secured the building and do not expect substantial threats from their new neighbors. It will take a couple weeks, maybe, to secure all the assets they will need from the medical complex, since they are in different buildings. In addition to establishing safe lines of transit to and from them. That being said, they never imagined being in such an excellent position again.
At that, Watanabe laughs. He looks at Ellie, expecting her to share it, but laughing is about the last thing she feels like doing.
He says something to her, that she doesn't understand.
"Thank Heaven for you," translates the woman.
Still smiling, he narrows his eyes a little. He speaks again.
"You seem nervous," says the woman. "And that is fair. In a way, you are offering the most here. And we could not do this without you. Are you with us?"
Ellie blinks. He's asking? What, is he asking for permission? Seriously? To her face?
She's breathing fast and she knows she shouldn't, but she can't help it. It's finally coming into bloom, the feeling. And the petals are red.
"Ellie?" says Grayson. He sounds confused and concerned. "What's the matter?"
She sucks a couple more breaths through her teeth. "What's the matter? What's the matter?" She stands up from her chair. "I'll tell you what's the matter. Talking about all this stuff, like I'm not even here. Why doesn't one of you just say it, already?"
They're all stunned. No one says anything.
"It's going to fucking kill me!" she shouts.
Grayson is nonplussed. He looks at Watanabe.
Dr. Watanabe's eyes are wide, but he is not offended. The woman leans down and starts translating, quietly and urgently. He turns his head, listening. She goes on for longer than Ellie did. As she speaks, his features change. He's totally sober, all of the sudden. He nods, and the woman stops speaking.
He rises in his chair, raising his shoulders formally. He's solemn. He looks at Ellie directly and starts to talk. His voice is level, and diplomatic. At one point he gestures to the side of his head, where Ellie's infection is. At another point he leans forward, raising his brows, impressing upon her. He taps his chest, near his heart.
He finally finishes. He looks at the translator, and she nods. Dr. Watanabe retains eye contact with Ellie while the woman begins.
"Of course. We have been cavalier with you. We are all of the military, or the sciences. You alone are here as a patient. Please know, I am aware of not only the risks you took to arrive in this place, but that you must have endured terrible things to have survived what you have, not excluding the event which caused your infection. Yet you have survived, only to arrive here, to further risk, when all you deserve, as anyone does, is happiness."
Ellie blinks. She's still standing.
"The core of the infection takes root in the brain. And in order for us to accomplish what we seek, the thing that must be, a successful and reproducible vaccine, we will need to sample that tissue. Neurosurgery is very delicate. Sometimes tremendous damage to the brain can have little effect, and seeming inconsequential damage can lead to death. Yes, neurosurgery is delicate, but I," the woman taps her chest, imitating the doctor, "am a neurosurgeon.
"I take my work very seriously. I do not drink, or smoke, on principle. Both to keep my head clear and my hands steady, for my patients. I have operated one hundred and thirty seven infected brains. Thirty one of them were alive. None of them, of course, were immune.
"I am familiar with Dr. Andersen's work. It was relayed to me by your party. I do believe he may have met with success, but my methods are somewhat different. The procedure we seek to accomplish will not be without risks. However, based on what I know and what we need and historical precedent, I would put your chances of survival at ninety-three percent."
Stunned, Ellie rocks back and she feels Clint's hand on her back.
"Ellie, we never talked about that," he whispers.
She looks around, a little dizzy. There are too many people in the room. Watanabe looks concerned. He reaches out with a hand, as if to help her. She turns and walks through the doorway, soldiers parting to make way for her.
Pretty much all eyes are on her, but she ignores them, walking back to her bed and sitting down. Clint sits across from her. As soon as she meets his eyes, he looks away. He flexes his arm. She knows he's angry, but he doesn't say anything, he just lays down on his pillow, staring at the ceiling. Ellie is about to do the same when Abby walks around the curtain.
They're surprised at each other for a second. Was Abby in the room? It felt like the whole fucking brigade was.
"Long road here, right?" says Abby a little stiffly.
Ellie stares. She nods her head slightly.
"Infected, obviously. Bandits, and all manner of assholes, I imagine."
Ellie nods again.
"You can't possibly have left Jackson with any assurance that you would find us, alive."
Ellie shakes her head.
"That's a lot of determination."
This time, Ellie doesn't respond.
Abby's looking down at her, brow slightly pinched. She's trying to piece Ellie out.
"And every step you took here," she says, "you thought you were coming to your death."
Ellie sits there, hands in her lap. She doesn't disagree.
Abby sniffs, looks to the side, and glances at Ellie one last time before walking out of sight.
Ellie notices Lev, who had been standing behind her. He walks over, squeezes her hand gently, then follows Abby.
Feeling tired, Ellie lays back on her pillow like Clint. No one else bothers them, and eventually all the lights go out, and it's quiet again.
She's not sleeping and she's pretty sure Clint isn't either.
"I was about to tell you," she says quietly.
"I bet," Clint responds.
"Does it always have to be about you?" She's knows she's defensive.
"No. But that's not the problem." She can hear him move on his pillow. "The problem is this was one more thing that you were carrying all to yourself."
The moonlight is blue on the metal, card-strewn table.
"That must have sucked," says Clint.
"It did."
"You could have told me."
"You would have been mad."
"Who cares?" he says. "It's not about me, remember?"
Ellie sniffs. It's quiet for a long while.
"What a world," says Clint.
She doesn't disagree.
Abby rubs her nose with her forearm again. She's not crying, not really. She doesn't know what she's doing.
She's crouched in a corner in a dark wing a couple floors above where everyone is sleeping. She just wants a little solace. And a little space to figure out why watching that conversation made her feel like this.
Lev is not far away. She had asked him for space, and apparently that amounts to about twenty feet and a lack of direct interruption. She doesn't blame him for caring. She'd be hard pressed to give him that much space if it were him.
That's a lot of determination. Abby pictures Ellie's face, from just a short while ago.
"Bitch," Abby mutters.
Now that the worst of it is over, it's not that hard to be near Ellie anymore. Abby is seeing a side of her she's never seen before. It's natural… but it still bothers the shit out of her.
"Abby?" Lev asks.
"What?" she replies, annoyed.
"I just feel like eventually you will reach a point where it is better to talk about it."
"Not yet," she says.
She waits another five minutes, out of stubbornness.
She issues a long sigh, and turns around, sitting and leaning against the wall. She plants one foot on the ground and wraps her arms around her knee, grabbing her own wrist. Automatically, Lev walks over and sits down, cross-legged. He doesn't say anything.
"You've taken a liking to her," says Abby.
"I've no reason not to," he says. He works his lips a little. It's rare for him to betray hesitation. "She's pretty easy to like."
Abby snorts softly.
"You told me you forgave her."
"To a great extent," says Abby. "Maybe it's a longer process than I thought."
"It is a lot, to forgive."
I hadn't forgiven him when he died.
That part stuck with Abby, when Ellie was talking about Joel. Why did that matter? She had given it a lot of thought.
Mel's face comes back, from the aquarium.
You're a piece of shit, Abby. It had hurt so much to see her face contort like that. Like the other shoe dropping. Been that way a long time.
She just wanted Mel to say she hadn't meant it, and she would never have that chance.
"What do you think it feels like to realize you've killed a pregnant woman?" Abby asks him. It clicks almost right away, and Abby turns to the side, suddenly not wanting to look at Lev.
"You know I wouldn't say anything just to hurt you," says Lev.
He's softening the blow. Abby braces for it.
"You almost found out," he says quietly.
Abby does start crying then. Her sleeves are too short, she has nothing to wipe it on. She feel so stupid, sobbing in front of Lev like that. He hands her something. It's a handkerchief. She feels his hand on her lower leg.
"Thank god I had you," she says, blowing her nose.
"You did," says Lev. "And you always will, if I have any say."
Even then, she's able to smile for him.
"So I take it you trust me?" says Lev.
She frowns. "You know that. I trust you more than anyone."
"Then know that Ellie is a good person," he replies. He tilts his head. "She's just been through a lot of bad things, I think."
Abby plays with the moist handkerchief anxiously. "It's not that I don't think that."
"Then what is it?"
Abby shakes her head. Her eyes go far away. "When I finally found Ellie, in Seattle, and saw her for the first time, I couldn't believe it. I knew all the things she'd done. All the people she'd killed, and the chaos she had caused. I had just seen Mel and Owen. I couldn't believe this scrappy, little bitch could even be capable of all that."
She clenches the handkerchief in her fists.
"And I saw the other side of her, when we fought. Just how capable she is. She was basically a demon." Her forearms flex, then her hands finally relax. She feels heavy. "It wasn't until that night in Santa Barbara that I finally saw she still had a soul, somehow."
She looks up. She can't see Lev very well in the darkness, but she can see the glint of his eyes clearly. He nods.
"Just forgive me if it's pretty hard to accept any reality where Ellie ends up the hero."
"That makes sense," says Lev. "Thank you for saying that."
When Abby speaks again, it's very quiet. "And I think I wanted to believe that if I forgave her, somehow…"
Lev frowns, thinking for a minute, then his eyes open wide. "That it might also be possible for you to be forgiven, for what you did."
Abby says something but it doesn't come out clearly.
"What?" asks Lev.
"She was there," says Abby, quavering.
"What? When?"
"With Joel," she spits out.
Lev gasps. The night wind moans in the distance. "You never mentioned that…"
"She was screaming."
"Oh my god…"
"You can't really forgive someone for that, can you?"
She remembers what it felt like, golf club seized in her hands, when she delivered the final blow.
"It would not be easy…" says Lev.
She can see Ellie on the beach in Catalina, eyes hooded, distant. She looked so fucked up.
"But it is possible, Abby. Perhaps the most difficult part will be for you to accept it. White Dove said it is that way, sometimes, when our guilt is great."
"White Dove?"
"That was what the Prophet called herself, after her awakening. The elders would punish anyone would called her anything other than the Prophet, after she died. But the more time passes, the more I see in the Seraphites that I don't think White Dove would have approved of."
Abby's honestly taken aback. She feel steadier now. She did not see that woman coming into this conversation. "I thought all that was behind you."
"I carry what I need forward, and leave what I don't behind."
"Is that from White Dove, too?"
"It is."
"I thought she was crazy."
She can tell Lev is offended, but he swallows it down. "The wol—forgive me, the WLF would spread this rumor, but the truth is, few understood her. Her wisdom was obvious, to all who knew her. I saw her a few times, when I was younger. Her presence itself felt like a blessing… but… I know that is difficult to believe, and I don't want to argue with you about her. But yes, to answer your question, I have left the Seraphites behind, but White Dove's teachings, I carry."
"Okay," says Abby. "Okay, I'm sorry I called her crazy."
"It's okay."
Abby sniffs. She's actually feeling better. "How do you always know how to set me straight?"
"Intuition," Lev answers honestly. "The elders used to say mine was strong. And White Dove's teachings, honestly."
Abby snorts. "You're not going to try to convert me, are you?"
"Conversion is not necessary. Right wisdom is proof in and of itself."
Abby laughs. She doesn't even know what the fuck that means. "If you say so, Lev."
"And speaking of wisdom," Lev replies, standing, "perhaps we should go back to our beds, to sleep while it is dark outside, as I doubt Grayson is going to let us sleep in."
"That's for sure," she says. Lev offers her his hand, and she lets him help her up.