To Be Free

  The pain that pulls, rips at my insides forces the first sob from my throat, and I quiet the rest, refusing to make a sound as I press my head to my knees and wish for the ability to disappear, to rip the pain and sorrow forcing my heart to beat painfully inside me, mocking me for getting attached to a man who's plagued my nightmares.

  My eyes continue to play the meeting between the men in the dining room, and I try to press my hands to my ears to avoid the sounds, but they filter in anyways.

  I've missed you. I'm sorry, I couldn't protect you. Could you forgive me?

  If you had the chance to change it, change what happened, would you? Would you leave all that behind, everything you've gained, just for me? Would you leave the man who couldn't force himself to sit through this briefing, just for me?

  I don't want this gift. I don't want it.

  I want to die again. The urge, the thought that I haven't had in a long, long time, comes back to me without warning, and it pulls me out of the vision and back into my reality. The pain reminds me of when Sarah would use me as her personal object, an item to use and discard, but this is much worse. This pain is more crippling.

  They say the first love's the hardest. I don't know if Sarah or Quinn is my first love, but this one is painful in ways the other never was.

  It'll always hurt – even if you ever tell him. The pain of the sight of the one you love with someone else will forever cripple you. You just learn to live with it.

  I look up at the sound of David's voice, and the young photographer's sitting beside me, playing with his camera as he holds an unlit cigarette between his lips. The sight of the auburn-haired man still surprises me, and he offers me a smile that holds no joy.

  It's that bad, huh?

  “Of course it is,” I whisper, pressing my chin to my knees and looking out to the Sound. The man lifts the Canon up to his eye and takes a few shots of the water, nodding. “I've seen so many different realities that branch off from this day, so many of them painful to the point of being crippling. I've seen Quinn leave me, never to return, and re-explore that love he felt for his friend on that day. I've seen him leave me simply because he couldn't stay anymore, and what we had fell apart. So many of them...”

  Must be harder for you, then, seeing as how you're a soothsayer. I didn't have that pleasure, but that still didn't help anything...

  I look to the inhumanely attractive man, in time to see him shrug helplessly as he toys with his camera some more.

  “What's he like?” I ask, and the man looks at me, curious grey eyes looking up at me. “Your beloved, I mean. Did... something happen?”

  Oh, a lot of somethings happened, Sebastian. I'm just a projection of my past self's future self, but even after all these years I'll never forget that sight... he fishes a lighter from his pocket, lighting his cigarette and blowing out a puff of smoke. With the stick between his fingers, he continues. I'm not human, see. I'm created artificially, from a project called Prototype Ace, and I was thrown into the world with the instructions “learn everything about people as you can, and how to control them. Every little thing about them.”

  I was sent to Ireland for a while, where I met Cian. He was a freelance musician, playing in the park for tips, and I'd become fascinated with taking pictures of people. I'd memorized his scheduled times there, and I'd come to listen and take pictures of the crowds, of him. Eventually, we became friends. Eventually, more, and we fled the government together.

  Once, though, shortly after I told him about the truth about who I am, my purpose, he refused to see me and left me alone in a world that would stop at nothing to hunt me down for the information I'd gathered – and I've gathered a lot about you Novae, you know. Enough to end you – and Cian managed to convince me to work for the benefit of mankind, not the higher ups.

  Anyways, I'd managed to find him somehow, and I saw him with a girl... a common whore, actually, that he picked up on the streets for a night. It broke me, completely and fully.

  He stops his monologue, frowning as he takes another drag. When he breathes the smoke out again, he looks down to the grass and bites his lower lip.

  I've never told him about that. He's never brought it up. We have a lot to talk about when I manage to free him from prison.

  “So, what you're trying to say is...?” I prompt, and the man looks at me sadly.

  Don't bottle it up. Your beloved, Quinn, seems like the type who needs to know these things. Talk it out with him a bit, your fears; it's a completely normal thing, to feel anxiety and jealousy the way you do. Just don't let him go the way I foolishly did.

  “I love him,” I choke, pulling my legs against me again and hugging them tightly. “I love him so much it hurts... it feels as if I'm dying, David, where I'm sitting. I'm so fucking scared of what might happen if I close my eyes and look, to watch the rest of the scene. I don't know... I don't know what I'd do if he...”

  Close your eyes, he instructs, and reluctantly I do so. What does the past tell you?

  We have to leave in at the latest two hours, Quinn. I expect you'll have an answer for me by then?

  Yeah, just let me go think for a bit.

  Depending on your answer, we can leave him behind. If that's easier. He's capable of making it on his own, but I don't think you're ready yet; he's... well, Sebastian isn't exactly helping you, is he? Someone like him sounds like a heavy burden to shoulder.

  Just let me think for a bit, Kenny. Besides, I can't leave things like this.

  Honestly, Quinn, I don't know how you put up with him. I didn't think cry babies were your type.

  “He's too good for you.”

  I stiffen at the sound of his voice, and David hisses softly beside me, swearing under his breath and throwing his half-smoked cigarette into the Sound. As it hits the water, it disappears. I almost miss his words: you detching prick if I was real right now I'd pound you into next week. You're part of the past, and you should stay there.

  I keep my eyes averted from the man standing a few feet behind me, at the willow tree's shady sanctuary.

  “Don't you think I know that?” I hiss, hating the way my voice breaks. I don't want to look weak in front of this fucking asshole. “Congratulations, you dick, I'm already well aware that he deserves so much better than me. Go the fuck away.”

  He laughs curtly, and I breathe deeply through my nose, trying to control my anger. I can see David shaking beside me, glaring at the Sound.

  How did a man that Quinn described as nothing but kind turn into a man who has so much bitterness inside him?

  “Honestly, I hope you die as you try to cross,” he states lightly, and at that I see David's ghostly apparition stand to his feet, turning in the direction of the American behind me. “You should've died in that facility.”

  “If it wasn't for me, your precious Quinn would be dead,” I spit, gripping my legs so tightly it's painful. I take the pain and use it to try and press my anger down, but I can feel my powers bristling, making the air around me curdle and shine vaguely with red mist. “Get the fuck away from me before I do something I'll regret.”

  “I'm sorry to inform you, kid, but Quinn's good at leaving burdens behind,” he laughs, and the tense coil of anger snaps, making my power flare beyond my control. At the very same time David swings for the man even though he'll go through, but for one second the paradox apparition actually looks solid, his fist striking the man behind me in the jaw and sending him flying backwards. As he stumbles the illusion fades, leaving him as ethereal as I've come to know him.

  “Get lost,” I growl, nails digging into my palms so much they draw blood. “This is my final warning, and if you don't I'm going to do something we'll both regret. Take Quinn and go, for all I fucking care! Just leave me here to die.”

  For a moment he doesn't move, David standing to my left breathing heavily, shaking with anger, and then I hear him retreat, leaving me alone with the apparition once more.

  Only then do I cry.

  I hear a set
of footsteps approach me again, and David looks over to the source while I sit on the dock, one knee up to my chest and my bare left foot trailing in the water. It's really cold, and I idly wonder how long I'd have to soak inside before I caught hypothermia. Probably not long.

  Sounds nice.

  “Just go with him,” I whisper, my heart beating painfully in my chest. The footsteps falter on the wooden surface of the dock, and I look to the ripples caused by my toes, turning a pale blue as time wears on. “I know that's what you want, Quinn.”

  He walks again, passing through David and crouching on his toes beside me, looking to the water.

  “Why do you think that?” Eleven asks, and I shrug a shoulder.

  “I've seen a lot of outcomes where you did,” I reply, my voice sounding strangely detached. I remember this sound in my voice – the sound of having given up. “It's been in my nightmares for a week now.”

  The man sighs, sitting down on the wooden surface and frowning to the water now. Looking all sorts of displeased.

  Without warning, he grabs me roughly by the shoulder and pushes me down onto the wooden surface, forcing a cry from my lips. Then he looms over me, pinning my hands to the dock by my wrists and refusing my escape, even when I struggle against his grip and tell him to let me go. He just glares down at me.

  “It's taking so much self control to stop myself from beating you to a bloody pulp, Sebastian,” he growls, and the sound of my full name makes my blood chill. “I don't know who the fuck you take me for, but I figured you trusted me a little more than this – at least enough to not expect me to run off back into anyone's arms, after everything we've been through together. Honestly, I'm insulted.”

  He just hovers over me like that, and I can't help my next words. They come out, bitter and hurt.

  “Then explain to me why you sounded so fucking angry when I told you I knew who he was before he even came,” I spit, narrowing my eyes. He jerks his head back slightly, and my foot is now stinging painfully as the blood in my foot starts warming again. I ignore the pain – I've lived with pain for over seven years now, and this is honestly nothing worth writing home about.

  It's less painful than the tugging in my chest. The heart-stopping, gut-wrenching, breath-stalling, agonizing pain in my chest.

  “Because I figured you would've told me about it!” he snaps back at me, and I shake my head. “I've thought about it since then, okay! Plus, given what you've told me just now...”

  “You'll never know... how painful it was to live through that,” I choke, turning my head away and watching the water trickle along the Sound. “Seeing the one you love the most leave you for another man... abandoning you with no explanation, over and over, to the point where you'd wake up in the middle of the night and throw up. I hate how much I've come to need you, Quinn. I really, really need you in my life, and it's sickening.”

  You shouldn't have to be ashamed of needing him, I hear David whisper softly, not far from us. I can't see him from where I am, but I know he's nearby. You two are hopelessly intertwined, in ways I've seen in so few. Your feelings for one another are amazingly true and pure, the kind of love people dream about at night and very few find.

  “...why is that a bad thing?” he asks, his voice quieter now. I slip my eyes shut, breathing through the lump in my throat. “Why is needing another person so bad?”

  “The last time I got attached to someone like this, I paid the price with my sanity,” I breathe, swallowing thickly. “...now I've got a paradox clone and my beloved trying to convince me that needing someone the way I need you isn't a bad thing. What the fuck is my life.”

  I punctuate that statement with a dry laugh, looking at him.

  “Promise me one thing, Quinn,” I plea, and he loosens his hold on my wrists, hands clasping mine instead. A gesture of forgiveness.

  “Anything, love,” he tells me, and I take a breath before I begin.

  “If we make it, if we are free by the end of today, I want you to honestly tell me if you plan on leaving, on walking out for any reason whatsoever,” I say, eyes slipping shut at the very thought, the pain making my chest feel hollow. “I want you to tell me if you plan on coming back.”

  You already know the answer, Sebastian, I hear David whisper, and I nod imperceptibly, for his eyes only. You're only making this worse for yourself.

  “Only when we're free?” he questions, and I nod again, this time enough for him to catch it. I open my eyes, the darkness of my lids too dangerous. All I catch is the shine of a silver object, and then it's gone.

  You remind me so much of him. Whether that's good or bad... that remains to be determined.

  We're back in Seattle within a handful of hours, the ride to the ferry and crossing the Sound an extremely awkward experience. Kenny leaves us in Seattle, finding the car waiting for him and casting one long, last-chance look to Quinn, who returns the gaze with nothing written on his face. Sighing, the man gets in the car and drives off, leaving Quinn and I in the black Lexus, where he pulls out onto Interstate five, following the winding road northwards.

  When we're past Bellingham, about half an hour from the border, we run into trouble.

  The ride had been fairly quiet and Quinn and I dutifully kept to our own devices, looking out our respectful windows. One hand on the steering, the other propped his chin up with his elbow on the sill of his window, and I just watched the world roll by around us. We've passed Ferndale a while back, and Quinn presses on the brakes quickly, forcing me to look out the windshield to the blockade not twenty feet in front of us.

  “Fucking fantastic,” he hisses, hitting the steering lightly. I sigh, looking to the rear view mirror where I can see the faint outline of David, sitting in the backseat taking pictures from the windows.

  I've forgotten to ask him if he's also a 'Novae.' He hasn't indicated or hinted at any ability of the sort, but I think he's hiding something. He has one, that's for sure – I just don't know what.

  They're waving cars through after checking the inside and verifying the papers, and the traffic progresses through the blockade fluidly. Then, soon enough, an Officer from Recon One steps up to Quinn's side of the car, frowning.

  “Excuse me, but I'm going to have to ask you both to step out of the car while we check the vehicle. Could you please take out your papers as well?”

  The man's helmet is shining with the bright blue light inside the visor, hinting at a display I can't quite tell, and as he walks the shine of the chrome weapon strung across his shoulder reflects the light of the sun struggling to shine through the dark storm clouds.

  We step out, and David casually slips out through my door before I close it, whistling a tune I don't know. Quinn's going to the trunk, unlocking it and looking through the carry-on luggage for the papers his old friend forged for us.

  Quinn's name, right now, is Alexander, and I'm his younger brother Michael Richard. Our story is that we're visiting family up north for the funeral of our grandparents, and plan to stay for a few weeks before coming back down south. It's not an uncommon occurrence for people to go to Canada to visit relatives, so it's not an unbelievable story.

  He takes the papers while two of his colleagues search through the car, and I idle by the trunk near 'Alexander,' David standing beside me fiddling with his camera.

  Jealousy is a powerful mistress, he tells me, and I turn my head slightly in his direction, a silent plea for a clarification. You know something's going to go wrong. It's too easy, isn't it? Driving north and hitting the border without a hitch?

  He's right. This is almost laughably easy, and the blockade is strangely convenient. There's enough military personnel to fill a platoon, with about half a dozen Humvees lining up the interstate. They're not checking papers for people coming south – they're investigating people going north.

  Jealousy is a powerful mistress, huh... the words roll around in my mind, and the man calls one of his buddies over, showing him the papers. A shiver races up my spine, and my
eyes widen as the accusation graces my thoughts. You don't think...

  If you truly love the man, fight tooth and nail for him. Don't let go, Sebastian. Don't you let go, or else you'll end up like me – hating yourself for leaving him behind to a fate of torture and humiliation. Don't let go of him. David's holding the camera to his chest, for once no cigarette between his lips. Run; grab him and Run like you've never fled them before. For the love of God, don't you fucking let go.

  “Both of you, put your hands up slowly,” the Officer states, and I feel my heart pounding a painful rhythm in my chest. Quinn pauses in his movements, and I feel sick. That Goddamn bastard... “No sudden movements or we'll shoot you on the spot.”

  “If I can't have him, neither can he,” David quotes, and I feel the bile rise up my throat. I barely push it down. Actually, you might be interested to know that the man wasn't planning on being very friendly to Quinn – he holds a lot of resentment to your companion.

  “You're under arrest – h-hey, I said don't move!”

  The Officer pulls out his gun as I shift my stance, flexing my fingers. Quinn takes a step back, confusion plain as day on his face, and I lunge forward, my hands coated with red fog from my fingers to my elbows. I push against his solar plexus, stealing his breath and forcing the man to his knees, turning blue in the face as he asphyxiates. Then I grab Quinn's wrist, turning from the gaggle of Officers rushing to their companion and pulling out their pistols, and pulling him away, towards the border.

  If we cross, we're free.

  “Run, Quinn!” I shout, my legs pushing me faster than I've ever run before. I don't see David around at all. “Your fucking friend sold us out!”