'Gi has gone.'
Linka's words, spoken so quietly into the fetid warmth of his cabin, make Wheeler rouse slightly, and he sits up on his elbows to look at her.
'What?' he mumbles, through a mouth like cotton. His head pounds slightly and he's ridiculously thirsty. Linka sits gingerly on the edge of his bed, and he notes a new pattern of bruises on her upper leg, a telltale circle of finger shaped marks, stark and accusing in the early morning light.
He was too rough with her again.
'Shit, babe,' he says with a sigh, reaching for her. He runs a finger along the black and blue mottling of her skin. 'I'm so sorry -'
But Linka puts a finger to his lips. 'As am I,' she says, running a hand over his bare shoulder. He winces when she presses down, ever-so-slightly, on the bite marks she has left behind.
Wheeler sighs again, running a hand through his hair. Since Ma-Ti's death, they've been having sex nearly constantly. It's been an addiction almost, to lose themselves in each other's arms, and at the moment, it seems like the only way they can cope.
And he hates himself for it.
Hates that he's trying to replace that last image of Ma-Ti, drowning in a glass coffin, with images of Linka, naked and on her back, being held down while he fucks her.
Hates that he can't sleep unless Linka is at his side, soft and pliant and warm and forgiving.
Hates that he's reduced himself to begging, pleading with her never to leave him.
And most of all, he hates that she doesn't seem to mind. Hates that she lies there, soft and pliant and warm and forgiving, taking everything he gives her without question and responding to his pleas with words of love and compassion.
Hates that all the fire in her seems to have been extinguished by his tears of grief.
He's adrift in a sea of loss, and Linka is the lifeboat to which he clings.
But he knows he's drowning, knows he a lost cause, and if he doesn't let her go, she's going to sink right with him.
He must be staring at her, because Linka bites on her lip, brushes his hair from his eyes, and runs a finger down his cheek. He hasn't shaved in forever and she smiles at his beard.
'Gi has gone,' she says again, and he nods.
'Yeah. I heard you.'
She pauses. 'She took Ma-Ti's ring -'
At that, Wheeler jumps up, his fists clenched in anger, the muscles of his body taut.
'Fucking bitch,' he spits. 'She had no fucking right - no fucking right - who is she to...' he takes a deep breath at the sudden panic on Linka's face. He forces himself to relax. Forces himself to sit, to pull Linka into his arms and breathe in the smell of her neck.
'Sorry,' he mutters. 'Sorry, sorry...'
'You are saying that word too much,' Linka tells him. She pulls his face to hers and kisses him softly.
He's drowning.
He's drowning, and he's drowning her with him.
'Sorry,' he whispers again, and Linka kisses him once more.
'Stop saying that,' she pleads, 'it was not your fault and -'
It's easy to lose himself in her. Easy to silence her compassionate mercy with merciless passion. Easy to pull the clothes from her body, hold her down and make a whole new pattern of bruises on her skin. Easy to forget everything in blissful pleasure.
When it's finished, he cries on her shoulder.
'Sorry, sorry,' he says, over and over until she is crying too.
'Yankee, please, stop saying that.'
He's drowning them both. He knows that.
But he's happy to drown in misery. He knows he deserves nothing less.
But Linka?
He can't take her down with him. Can't pull her into the black depths to which he so willingly sinks.
He kisses her again, though softly this time. He's tender with her; running loving hands over her curves, kissing each and every mark he's ever left on her flesh. This time, he doesn't hold her down. This time, he cups her face and looks into her eyes and tries to remember each and every detail about her smile, her features,how she looks when she takes her pleasure.
Images he knows will keep him sane in the years to come. Images he will treasure, hold onto like a keepsake of the heart, for the days when he knows her absence will cut through him like a knife.
Images of a navsegda that will never come, little snippets of a future that was never to be theirs.
For a moment, his chest feels so tight he's not certain he will ever breathe again. He feels heavy, lost, bereft and alone.
He's a drowning man, after all.
And today, he lets go of the only lifeboat he could ever want to keep him afloat.
Linka sleeps afterwards, and he watches her.
His decision made; he's almost numb with relief and disbelief all at once.
Ma-Ti wouldn't let Wheeler drown for him. Ma-Ti pushed the button. Ma-Ti released them all.
Well, he sure as hell won't let Linka drown for him either. This time, he gets to push the button.
This time, he's going to release her too.
With one final look at Linka, he gets up.
He showers and shaves. He packs a bag.
He leaves his cabin behind without a backwards glance. Waits on the shore, biding his time, wordlessly watching the waves break before him.
A drowning man on dry land.
Linka finds him on the beach a few hours later, and he knows with one glance that she's frantic with worry, her eyes teary, her skin flustered.
'Yankee,' she exhales with relief when she spots him. She throws herself to the ground, wrapping her arms around him.
But he pushes her away.
'What?' she asks, looking so wounded that he clenches his fists hard so as not to immediately comfort her. His fingernails cut into his palm, and blood seeps across his hand and into the sand.
He stares at the ocean.
'I'm gonna go back home and try new things,' he says casually, squeezing his hand again, feeling more of his blood spill, directly from his heart.
He doesn't look at her.
If he looks at her, he knows he'll break.
'What? Yankee... what do you mean...?' she stammers, laying a hand on his arm.
But he shakes it off as though she burns him.
'This has been fun, but it's done now, you know?' he carries on mercilessly. With a sigh, he throws himself back on the sand, bringing a bloodied hand to his face to cover his eyes.
He knows that looking at the sun will blind him. So too will looking at Linka's pain. Bile rises up in his throat, and he's certain that if he looks at her now, he'll vomit at her feet.
'But Yankee...'
'You should too,' he adds, 'Try new things, I mean. New people.'
New men, his words imply.
Other men, better men, who aren't drowning in a lake of their own making or agony. Men who will love her and care for her and treat her right. Men who will want her and need her and be unable to live without her.
Men like him, he thinks, with a fresh torrent of grief.
Because underneath everything, he knows that no one will ever love her like he does.
He chances a glance at her between his fingertips. She's staring at him, chewing on her bottom lip. Her lip, which is still swollen and red from his earlier kisses.
'Are you finished with the Planeteers... or just with me?' she asks him slowly.
He shrugs at her coolly. 'Honey, you're interchangeable. We've worked well together, both at work and in bed, but it's done now. Our time is up.'
She pales. 'I do not believe you, Yankee... I do not think you mean it... I...'
'It doesn't matter what you think or believe,' he says harshly. 'It never did. Not really. It's basic arithmetic, babe. Once you were convenient, and now you're not.'
At that, she stifles a gasp.
Or maybe it's a sob.
'We can still be friends, of course,' he tells her easily. 'You can call me, whenever you like.'
But she only shakes her head. It's ducked now, her shoulders heaving as she cries. He stares at her, wanting nothing more than to hold her close and brush the tears from her skin.
But he doesn't. He simply stares at her, hating himself.
He's drowning.
And at this point, it feels like it's in a sea of hate.
'I think you are a very good actor,' she says brokenly. 'I think you do not -'
'And I think you're a very good lay,' he interrupts her. 'But like I said, we're done now. It's been fun, but it's time to move on.'
She reaches for him one more time, but he stands and steps away from her openly crying form.
'Linka,' he says, wanting to leave her with at least one honest thought. With one genuine piece of a heart which will always and forever be hers. 'I'm not worth cryin' over, babe. I never was, and I never will be.'
He walks away from her, his heart pounding, his stomach turning.
His heart and soul feel dead. He is a drowned man, inexplicably still walking.
His death was prolonged. His death was agony.
He drowned, after all.
Drowned in a sea of Linka's tears.
He's been a month at home when Trish comes to see him.
His Mom lets her in, ushers her through to his room like he's still fucking sixteen, before leaving them to it.
He stares at the girl dumbly, wondering why her hair is the wrong shade of blonde, the angles of her face all wrong and her voice strange, when it hits him like a ton of bricks.
Right. She's not Linka.
'You're back,' Trish comments, sliding onto his bed and nestling into the crook of his arm like it's the good old days of ragtag-underprivileged-children yore.
'Yeah.'
He allows himself to trace patterns over her arm with his free hand. It feels good and bad all at once to touch another person's skin again.
'You're here alone?' Trish asks.
'Yeah. Why wouldn't I be?'
She snorts. 'Not like you not to have someone on the go.'
He shrugs.
'Where's Blondie?' Trish asks lightly, though he can hear the hidden malice in her words. 'Get bored of you, did she?'
'Nope. I got bored of her,' the lie slips so easily from his tongue even he's amazed by how genuine he sounds.
Trish smiles.
'Your Mom says you've been sulkin' away in your room for weeks now,' she remarks. She shifts slightly so that her hips press into his groin, and he pauses.
'Really?' he asks.
'Yeah,' Trish carries on, shifting again so that her shirt rides up a little, exposing the skin of her hip.
Momentarily, he thinks of Linka, of bruised flesh and kiss-swollen lips and soft sighs against his neck. His body responds to the image, and Trish almost purrs in his arms.
'I'm not sulkin',' he replies bluntly. 'I'm just dead inside, is all.'
At that, Trish laughs. She sits up, pulling her shirt over her head and reaching behind her back to unclasp her bra.
'Dead inside? Really?' she looks down at him, picking up his hands and laying them across her breasts. 'Poor Wheeler,' she hums. 'Well... let's see if I can revive you, then. Bring you back to the land of the livin'.'
He feels sick. His body is aroused, but his heart is a husk. His betrayal of Linka, he realises, is now complete. He lied to her with his words, turned away from her with his heart, and now, will betray her with his body.
'Wheeler?' Trish calls to him, and he sits up, silencing the question in her eyes with his lips against hers.
It's all too easy to move against her and inside her. All too easy to fall back into familiar and comfortable habits.
All too easy to lie there afterwards, Trish content in his arms, a dead weight against his chest.
It's a fitting match, he decides.
He's dead inside, after all.
For a moment he and Kwame stare at Gi, before a rush of air he didn't even know he was holding exits his lungs and he lunges at her, swinging her off her feet and into his arms, before holding her against him and kissing the top of her dark head.
'Gi,' he exhales again. 'Gi... Gi... oh God, Gi.'
Gi giggles happily, flinging her arms around his neck and kissing his cheek.
'Hey, Red,' she says easily. 'You look like shit.'
He pretends to be offended. 'And you look like the worst kind of K-pop band reject,' he remarks, taking in the bubblegum pink jacket she wears, the pair of black and white checked loafers on her feet, and the bright, almost comically girlish make-up she has smeared across her cheeks. 'What of it?'
'Hey, this counts as high fashion these days,' she replies, and Wheeler can't help the grin that spreads across his face. Because this is just like the old days, almost, and -
And he stops, because abruptly and instinctively he knows that this is not like the old days, recognising that something is off about this entire scene. Something is different, something is uncomfortable, and it's not just the missing Ma-Ti, or the absent Linka... it's something else. Something worrying.
Kwame.
Wheeler turns, looking at his friend and wondering why he is just standing there, why he isn't moving to also embrace Gi, why he is just staring at her, as though she's a stranger, and not someone they've both been missing for years. He sees a tension to Kwame's neck, a stiffness to his jaw, and he turns back to Gi, who's still smiling at him, her bobbed hair sleek and familiar, her all pink ensemble giving him a serious feeling of déjà vu.
'We've been worried about you, Gi,' Wheeler says softly. 'Where you been all this time, hey?'
Gi still smiles at him, but it's unmoving now, frozen across her cheeks.
'I've been fixing things,' she replies easily, and Wheeler's insides seem to freeze.
'Fixin' things?' he asks, 'fixin' what, Gi honey?'
But Gi doesn't reply, only looking up at him with her placid smile. Her eyes look hollow, almost empty and all too void of their usual sparkle, and Wheeler steps back, closer to Kwame.
'You boys bring your rings with you?' Gi asks. She's still smiling, and Wheeler immediately looks at her hand, seeing her water ring snug against her finger. Nestled next to it is Ma-Ti's heart ring, and Wheeler inhales sharply.
'Yeah,' Wheeler replies warily. He always carries his ring with him.
Old habits die hard for him, it seems.
But Kwame shakes his head. 'No,' he says clearly. 'Mine is in a safe place.'
'Where?' Gi asks sharply, and Kwame stands taller.
'A safe place,' he says again, more firmly.
Wheeler knows he's lying. They'd briefly discussed his ring and Haya on the drive to Linka's place. Wheeler knows that since Haya inadvertently used his earth ring, that Kwame has been keeping it close.
'I cannot let her near it until she is more practised with it's power,' Kwame had told him, his parental concern evident in the worry of his eyes. 'When Linka is home, when Haya is a little older, I will sit with her. Teach her how to use it.'
'You think Haya will be the next Earth Planeteer?' Wheeler had asked, and Kwame had nodded.
'You remember what Gaia said, just after Ma-Ti died, and she was about to leave us? That she would return once the rings had called to new owners. I do not think it is coincidence that Sam and I were drawn to adopting Haya. I think the rings choose their carrier from birth... I think she was always destined to be the next Earth Planeteer, and thus my daughter.'
'Shit,' Wheeler had exhaled. 'That's heavy. You reckon somewhere out there is a new Fire Planeteer too?'
Kwame nodded again. 'Before she disappeared, I discussed the matter with Linka. We believe all five Planeteers have been chosen. The rings will start to call to their new owners. It would not surprise me if your ring starts to behave...' Kwame paused. 'Well, if it starts to behave erratically over the next few years.'
Wheeler thought about the ring buried deep within his luggage. Thought about the joy being a Planeteer had brought to him, but also, the danger and despair and heartbreak.
'Poor bastard,' he'd sighed, 'they don't know what they've got comin'.'
'No... no they do not. I only hope they are less hot-headed than you,' abruptly, Kwame grinned. 'And that the wind ring does not call an attractive, accented blonde to work beside him.'
But there were no smiles on Kwame's face now.
'Gi,' he begins slowly. 'How did you get in here? I'm certain Wheeler and I closed the door behind us when we came in.'
Wheeler turns to her, watching for her reaction.
'I'm good with locks these days,' Gi shrugs. 'Besides, Linka won't mind.'
Wheeler steps closer to Kwame again. 'You know where she is, Gi?' he asks her gently.
Gi smiles at him, though her eyes lock with Kwame's. 'She's in a safe place,' she tells them.
'A safe place?' Now, Wheeler feels a dart of rage run through him. 'Where? Where is this safe place, Gi?'
'I was just about to ask Kwame the same question,' Gi replies.
But Kwame remains silent.
'Fine,' Gi sighs. Suddenly, she flops down onto Linka's sofa, her eyes trailing to Linka's desk, to the pregnancy test sitting upon her paperwork. 'Oh,' she remarks flatly. 'You know then?' She asks Wheeler.
He nods. 'Only just.'
'Happy?' Gi asks him.
'I will be,' he says, 'once I have Linka back.'
'She's fine, I promise you,' Gi says. She seems more inclined to be kind to him than Kwame right now. 'She was a little groggy at first, when she woke up from the sedative, kept babbling about sat navs, or Segways, or something... anyway, we ran some blood tests on her and everything came back a-ok.'
It feels like a punch to Wheeler's chest and his fists clench tightly. 'Navsegda...' he mutters, and Gi snaps her fingers.
'Yes. That was it. She kept going on and on about it. Didn't make any sense to any of us. What's it mean, Red?'
But Wheeler only stares at her. 'You got her, Gi?'
'I told you already, Red. She's in a safe place.'
'Safest place for her is with me,' he tells her firmly. 'I wouldn't have to sedate her.'
'It was to keep her calm,' Gi instantly protests. 'Getting worked up isn't good for her baby. She's ten weeks pregnant... stress can cause all kinds of damage at this stage and -'
Something ugly crawls up Wheeler's spine. Something ugly and unbelievable and inconceivable and his blood turns to ice in his veins.
'Six weeks pregnant,' he corrects Gi through a mouth that is suddenly, painfully dry. 'She's only six weeks pregnant. She can't be ten weeks. It isn't possible.'
He hears Kwame inhale sharply behind him, and Gi looks at him with a sudden pity.
'I told you, we ran blood tests on her when she first arrived. Her HCG levels - that's a hormone a woman secretes during pregnancy, by the way - were in the range of a woman ten to twelve weeks pregnant.'
'Your tests were wrong -' Wheeler starts to argue, but Gi shakes her head.
'Sorry Red,' she says. 'She's ten weeks pregnant. The tests don't lie. I can also tell you that the baby is a boy. There was male DNA in her blood.'
The rooms falls into silence, and Gi sighs. 'The baby isn't yours, is it?' she asks Wheeler plainly.
But he doesn't reply. He can't. Words, at this point, fail him.
'Well, come on then boys,' Gi suddenly stands, pointing to the door.
'Where are we going?' Kwame asks. His hand is suddenly on Wheeler's shoulder, but Wheeler feels numb all over, and hardly feels it.
'To see my boss,' Gi replies easily. 'She's helping me. We have a... An exchange of sorts planned.'
'Your boss?' Kwame asks.
But they all already know the answer to this question.
Gi nods. 'Yes,' she says easily. 'Doctor Blight and I have been waiting a long time for this moment.'