A Moment

In the end, it is not such a huge compromise. We gather in the sitting room. Christine has been given something to eat, and she sits quietly in the corner, apparently too interested in her dinner to be interested in the proceedings. All that I know, I quickly tell to the men so all have the same information. Their faces display utter seriousness, and I cannot help but feel myself slipping back into a cold general. It feels different when I am around Christine. She strips away the harsh commander. Her innocence demands it. I am the only one to speak for a very long time.

"Now, as Khan was spotted during the raid, his conveniently-placed house is no longer ours. The only good thing about this is the fact that there are less spies lurking around the houses out here, which was why we were discovered in the first place. Khan cannot leave the house right now, nor can many of you, which puts us at a most serious disadvantage. We cannot guarantee that you will not be recognized and followed. However, there are too many of us here. If there is another raid, it just might break our cause. Radley and Thane, you two must go live with Baden. He was not there, and so his position is still covert. If he reports anything important, I wish to know it immediately. He is not as high up as Khan was, but he will still know useful things. Davin, move to Kennan's place. And Kynan, you are to live with Carrick.

Now, as it is close to nightfall, you will all move tonight. The first two, leave in one hour. Davin, leave at eleven, and Kynan, you are to leave at three. Someone will contact you with necessary information. The new Oligarchy will not have moved from the Capitol; their arrogance is deep, and they believe nothing can touch them there. But we cannot get inside to see the new faces. That is the goal for now. I wish for everyone to think of a way inside, and I will be doing the same." There is silence, and they look at one another. "Radley, Thane, I suggest you prepare for your move," I say as dismissal, and the men all stand in unison and troop out of the room. Khan hesitates by the door, but then he, too, leaves. With a sigh, I turn and look to Christine. She is staring out of the little dark window, her knees drawn up and her arms around her legs. After a minute of silence, she turns to look at me.

"Are you frustrated?" she asks softly.

"Yes," I say. "Are you tired?"

"No. Is there anything I can do?"

I smile humorlessly, and we begin to exit the room. "Do you happen to know a way into the Capitol without risking lives?"

She suddenly stops. "Erik," she says slowly, and I turn to see that her face is scrunched up with thought. "Erik, I…I can get into the Capitol."

I know what she is thinking, and I frown deeply. "No," I say, turning back to the door.

"No – wait, listen!" She grabs the sleeve of my shirt. "It would be easy for me to go back and get the information you need. It would not risk any lives."

"And you would like to assist in the killing of your beloved Raoul?" Her face whitens, and the eager expression disappears. "How would you get this information back to us?"

She is silent, and then her face turns from white to red. Her blue eyes drop to the floor. I sigh; it was not my intent to embarrass her. Without thinking, I reach up and run a finger down her soft, dark curls. Slowly, her eyes come back to mine, and I take my hand back.

"Forgive me, my dear," I say quietly, though I am not apologizing for my hand. With the smallest, sweetest smile I have ever seen, she says,

"Erik, may I ask you something?" When I nod, she asks, "Will you sing for me?"

I am silent, and she quickly says, "Oh – I'm sorry! Do you not sing? You simply have a beautiful voice, and so I assumed – but it was wrong of me, I'm sorry."

"It was not 'wrong of you,'" I say, frowning slightly. "You must stop punishing yourself continually. And…yes," I finally agree. "I will sing for you."

It takes not quite two songs to put her to sleep. She had staggered back to the couch and fallen, staring at me. She then lay down, and it was not long after that. Perhaps I shouldn't boast – but my voice is something God gave to me, and I know how to use it quite well. Christine will now sleep for a very long time. Quietly, I go and pick her up. The couch is small and cramped, and she does have the privilege of using one of the two beds. It is strange to carry her in something other than a gown. The fabric of the trousers is thin, as is the material of the shirt. It is no wonder she is uncomfortable. Her gowns have countless layers that hide much, and she is not accustomed to wearing such little clothing.

When I place her on the bed, I can see a slight protrusion of her stomach. This jars me, and I stand completely still for a very long time. It is almost as if…if I had not seen it, I should not have believed she is carrying a child. The forced ignorance of her condition gave me a soft layer of feeble comfort, but now I can see, and I will be forced to make more plans to accommodate for this. I can feel my head begin to pound, and my stomach complains of hunger. I blink, surprised at the noise. When I try to think of the last time I have eaten, I cannot. And so the two things I want are to rid myself of this headache, which can be accomplished with sleep, and stop my stomach. The house is silent. I relax in a chair that rests close to the bed and watch as she sleeps. When someone else is up to watch her, I will take care of other needs. But, for now, she must be kept in sight.

I look at her absent-mindedly, watching her breathe softly. She looks very peaceful, not at all anxious or worried, the expressions that have often troubled her small, pretty face. Her dark, thick lashes rest on her cheeks, and I think for a moment about her blue eyes. They are very thoughtful and manage to show her feelings quite well. She sighs softly and shifts, turning as if to look at me. Her soft breaths are oddly soothing, and I feel myself relax even more. The night is pressing in, comforting my tired eyes, and the chair is welcoming. For a brief moment, I close my eyes. The brief moment, however, turns into very long minutes, and I find myself thinking ridiculous fantasies that turn into dreams as I fall asleep.

A boy and girl run through the woods, gasping for breath as they climb over fallen trees and rocks. The girl is fair, and her long, dark hair streams out behind her as she runs. She is close to womanhood, older than the boy, whose spindly limbs and wiry frame climb nimbly over the obstacles.

"Stop – stop," she pants, leaning on a large tree as she gulps for breath. "I must rest for a moment."

The boy says nothing and turns around to the direction from which they came. A trail of smoke rises above the tall trees, but all is silent now. The girl follows his gaze, her dark eyes widening.

"Do you…think anyone is still alive?" she says, her voice much more a whisper than anything.

My eyes snap open instantly, and I sit upright. I had rested my upper torso on the bed, much too near Christine. She is looking at me, her expression quite blank.

"I apologize," I say, running a hand through my hair. "I didn't mean to doze."

"Is it possible to go to the washroom?" she asks. "I feel quite ill."

She does become sick when we enter the room, though it does not seem as bad as before. She shudders and gasps for air before washing her mouth with cool water. Unsure of what she wishes me to do, I simply stand near her and allow her to do whatever she pleases. She sits on the floor with a heavy sigh, closing her eyes.

"Do you still feel unwell?" I say, looking at her. She looks up and smiles very softly.

"Not as badly as I felt before. Do you know how long it is expected to last?"

I know precious little about pregnancies, and so I say slowly, "I have heard most stop during the third or fourth month. Do you know how far along you are?"

She places a hand on her stomach. "I…I'm not sure. I know it has been a few months, but I cannot give an exact number." There is a minute of silence, and she begins, "Erik, do you fully realize that you – "

Her sentence is interrupted with the door opening. Khan sticks his head inside and says quickly, "He is awake, if you would like to speak with him."

I quickly help Christine to her feet and say, "Please watch Christine for a few moments while I speak with him." I look at Christine's disappointed face and attempt to reconcile her by saying, "You may see him soon, darling. Just allow me two minutes."

Taurin looks considerably better, though still pale. I take a seat next to him.

"What has happened while I was out?" he asks instantly, trying and failing to sit up.

"Nothing dramatic," I say, shrugging slightly. "I sent some of the men to live with others. There isn't room in this house for thirteen people, and Christine is in the smaller bedroom, so space is still limited." I muse for a moment before continuing. "She is very unhappy with me. For now, she is wearing men's clothing, and she is positively ashamed of herself. I must get something here for her soon."

He doesn't appear to be listening; his brow is knitted, and his eyes are focused on a spot over my shoulder. He frowns. "There is something I must tell you," he says, a slight hesitation in his voice. "I have been meaning to for a very long time. Perhaps it won't matter to you, but perhaps it will." I motion for him to continue, and he sighs. "The night of the raid, I saw Raoul, and I was able to get a very good shot pointed, but…Christine pushed my arm aside. I only managed to hit his shoulder. I am sure he is quite well by now."

There is a tense minute of silence, and I say slowly, with forced calm, "You had a clear shot…but Christine ruined it?"

He nods. I sigh loudly and put my hands up to my face, feeling the white mask rub against the skin of my palm. Surprisingly, it isn't anger toward Christine that clouds my mind. It is frustration and…almost a sense of pity. She is still deluded into thinking that Raoul should live through this, yet exterminating him is one of our main purposes.

Finally, I look at him and say, "There will be another chance. Our only option right now is to let the dust settle, and then we will be able to see." I almost do not say this, but her wide blue eyes tell me I must. "Christine is very anxious to see you. She nearly cried when I told her that I was going to speak with you first. She cares very much about you. Do not accuse or patronize her just now. It is not the time."

Taurin is quiet for a moment, and then he nods. I go to the door and open it quietly, but I am knocked aside as Christine rushes in. She sits in the chair and instantly breathes,

"Are you feeling well?"

I take a seat in the corner, trying not to interfere with their time together. Leaving Christine with an invalid is not something I will do, so I simply wait in the corner and try to occupy myself with something else. Taurin says that yes, he does feel quite well.

"Have you eaten anything?" Christine asks, and I can imagine her taking his hand and pressing it. "You look so pale. Are you warm enough?"

"Yes," he says gruffly, sounding pleasantly irritated. I wonder briefly what it would feel like to have someone concerned over my behalf.

"Is there anything I can get you?" she presses.

"No, Christine, I am quite well, thank you." There is a moment of silence. "You look wonderful." His voice has a gentle, teasing way to it, and I can almost feel the embarrassment coming off of Christine, who replies defensively,

"Well, it isn't for long, and I can tell you that I am not at all comfortable in this…outfit. How you wear this, I will never know."

Taurin laughs shortly and says, "Of course, sister. I am sorry for embarrassing you."

They speak quietly about other things for a few minutes longer. I give them adequate time to speak about all they wish, and, when a comfortable silence is present, I stand and go to the door. Christine nods before turning back to her brother.

"I will come see you again, if you wish," she says.

Taurin says sharply, "I am not dying. You may see me as often as you would like to. Do not treat me like a deathbed patient."

Christine smiles ever-so-slightly and stands. "I will come back soon," she promises, and she leaves. Khan escorts her to the bedroom, and I return to speak quickly with Taurin. He is looking at the door, his eyes bright and his eyebrows raised.

"She does look strange," he says, his lips curling up slightly, "though not in an unpleasant way. I suppose we shall just have to become used to it."

I say, "Yes, I suppose that she will also have to – "

"Erik!" he interrupts loudly. I look to see a wide smile on his face, and he continues hurriedly, "What if she were to stay dressed as a man?"

I am silent for a moment, and then I say, "The only thing resulting out of that would be a tantrum."

"No – listen," he says, the eagerness not gone from his voice. "She is dressed as a man, and if someone should so happen to see her passing by a window, they would not know that a woman is staying in a house that previously held none."

"Hmm, yes," I say dryly. "A long-haired, pregnant man walking around would cause no disturbance at all."

"Erik," he says, now quite serious. "She would cause far less attention if she wears a shirt and breeches than if she walks about in a bright pink, lurid and hideous gown. Someone would simply think that their eyes are tricking them or they didn't see properly. It couldn't hurt anything to have her stay dressed as that."

I think for a moment. He is right, though. Nothing would be hideously wrong to have her stay in trousers. It will take time for her to feel comfortable, but I believe she will understand. I finally look back at Taurin and say, "Very well. But you will be the one to tell her."