Riptide Atlas Link Series 3

by Jessica Gunn

  A grin spread across my face. “Guess all those hours of complaining and wandering around the city paid off, huh?”

  I couldn’t have found anything more perfect, more Chelsea, more us if I’d searched for the rest of my life. She’d definitely figure it out right away. I didn’t care. This. Was. Perfect.

  The day of the Secret Santa gift exchange, I hadn’t seen Chelsea beyond a quick update briefing about the panic room until the holiday dinner that night. It was hard hiding the image of what I’d gotten her and even harder to keep her from freaking out about what she’d gotten for her own person. She’d managed to keep it quiet in her head, only disclosing aloud that it was someone on the senior staff.

  People crowded around, some sitting at tables and others standing against the walls. Chelsea helped Freddy and Julie distribute all the gifts, and after a few minutes, they gave everyone the go ahead to open them.

  I glanced down at the small box in my hand and opened it. A gift card to an online gaming store. Was I that transparent?

  My quick work of my gift gave me the ability to watch Chelsea open hers, carefully keeping my thoughts to myself. Except that her eyes were on Captain Marks. Chelsea watched intently, the box I’d wrapped myself still sitting unopened in her lap.

  Captain Marks tested the weight of his own box, a sizable rectangle wrapped in a dark green festive paper. “Whoa,” he said, chuckling. He opened the gift and Chelsea held her breath.

  Please don’t tell me I screwed this up, she thought.

  Captain Marks lifted the gift, a look of awe and wonder on his face. She’d gotten him an old-looking sextant. Where had she found that? It was clearly a valuable antique.

  Captain Marks’s eyes drifted from one person to the next, trying to figure out who’d given him such an incredible gift. I thought it should have been obvious, but he didn’t seem to figure it out—and didn’t appear to want to. “Thank you,” he said to the room at large.

  “Hey, Chelsea!” Julie shouted from across the room, hugging the sheet music and CDs Freddy had picked out. “Are you going to open that or what?”

  Chelsea’s face reddened as she looked down to the box.

  Here we go.

  15

  Chelsea

  I slipped a finger under one edge of the paper and pulled it open. The outside of the package underneath was a deep red velvet. My heart skittered. It looked a whole lot like a jewelry box. Except it was too big, about six inches by six inches, and another four inches deep, with Guliana’s Crystals printed on the top. Either way, this was no stupid gift card that was for sure. Which meant it had to be from someone close to me. Maybe Freddy? He’d sure been acting all weird today, clamming up whenever someone asked about the Secret Santa exchange tonight.

  I lifted the top half of the small box. My breath hitched the moment my gaze settled on the object inside. It was a bird made of blue crystal curled over itself as though it were sleeping or resting—or preparing to snap open its wings and fly out. There were no real edges; every part of the bird was smooth.

  Wait a second… It wasn’t just any bird. The elongated feathers from the back of its head, the waves in the crystal that looked like fire… it was a phoenix. A blue one, but a phoenix all the same.

  My heart jumped into my throat. An Atlantean phoenix.

  I looked across the room to Trevor. He’d be the only one to get me something so perfect, a throwback to our first day here, when I’d explained to him the name of my band. Only he would know what chords this would strike.

  My stomach clenched tight. How accurate was that phoenix, evidence of our gravitation toward and around each other over the years? It was just like the phoenix and lobster in my and my sister’s high school story. I was the phoenix and he was the lobster. I’d come back to him every time, drawn danger into his undisturbed world. I’d brought my fire, my drama, my interference; I’d heated things up in every sense of the phrase. Then what? We withdrew from each other and tried again, hoping that maybe one day things would be different.

  Would they ever be? Did either of us actually want this, whatever this was between us? What we used to have before the war stole it away?

  Is that why Trevor picked this phoenix for my gift?

  The question sunk into my chest, burrowing so deep I couldn’t breathe. I tried to mask my thoughts, tried not to let them show on my face, but I knew I failed on at least one of those things because Trevor’s smile faltered. Emotion stung my eyes, drew my breath away from me. I stood and, phoenix in hand, walked straight out of the room.

  We were happy right now, whole despite the things that had brought us back together. And with the war looming on the horizon with weird time anomalies happening, easy was a more-than-welcome constant.

  But there was still a war to fight and things never went okay in war. One or both of us could die, one or both of us could decide this was all too much. Assuming either of us wanted to get back together, which, until just now when I’d opened Trevor’s gift, I’d assumed was off the table indefinitely. I hadn’t even considered it.

  And besides, technically we were both on different sides of this war, if not by loyalties then by heritage. The Atlanteans were coming for me, to convince me to fight with them. The White City wanted me dead. And the Lemurians? I wasn’t sure they believed I was on their side. Then there was Trevor, stuck in the middle of it all, trying to protect his cousin, me, and SeaSatellite5 all at once.

  I wanted to believe we’d all make it out alive. I wanted to believe that Trevor and I, and our friendship, could survive this. But history had proven that when shit hit the fan in the outside world, so did our relationship.

  All I could think about as I retreated from the Dining Decks was that story from high school. I am the phoenix repeated over and over again in my head. Because I was. Phoenixes only brought fire and destruction.

  And fire evaporated water until there was nothing left.

  I made quick work of all the stairways and corridors between the Dining Decks and my quarters. Footsteps followed me the whole way, but I ignored them and threw up all the mental walls I had at my disposal. I knew Trevor was following me, but he was—uncharacteristically, for once—giving me space. I hated it. I hated that I did this to him, to us. This gross overreaction to a simple freaking Christmas gift was sure to ruin the easy friendship between us.

  My feet kept moving all the way to my quarters anyway.

  I left the door to my cabin open, an invitation for him to come inside and talk. He took it. I sat on the edge of my bed as he shut the door.

  “That wasn’t intended to be a sad gift,” he said dryly, trying to lighten my mood. I wanted it to. It didn’t.

  “Don’t you realize that this is exactly what always happens?” I asked. “Things are good until they’re not, all because of this stupid Atlantean-Lemurian bullshit.”

  “Things are good,” he said as he pulled over my desk chair and sat in it.

  “Yeah, right now.” My words came out sharper than intended. I squeezed the crystal phoenix in my palm. Not tight enough to break it. Just enough to anchor myself in the reality of this moment. In the present, not the past or the future or any variation thereof.

  I stared at him, but Trevor didn’t back down. He swallowed hard, his expression even, when he asked, “Then what’s the problem?”

  Tension filled the space between us like molasses. Unforgiving and dark, everything needed to squash this light moment into something heavy, unneeded. “Not the gift. This was thoughtful, Trevor. Thank you. I really do like it.”

  He grinned despite the worry slipping into his eyes. “I knew you would. I couldn’t believe such a thing even existed until I found it.” Then his expression weakened. “You know I can hear your thoughts.”

  Good thing they were currently clamped down then, wasn’t it? “Not like I can forget.”

  Trevor shook his head. “Not now, before. When you were making your mad dash here.”

  I cringed. Oh, fantastic.
Guess those mental walls hadn’t been built high enough. Had he heard everything, even me thinking about us being a thing again? “Trevor, I…”

  He sat up straighter. “You don’t have to explain. I sort of guessed this might happen.”

  “But I do have to explain.” I lifted the beautiful blue crystal phoenix to eye level between us. The bird seemed to hum in my hand, like the exact weight of my soul’s thoughts were there in my palm. “It is true, you know. This whole phoenix and lobster thing. I’m the reason your life got worse. I may not be to blame for Abby and for what else brought you to SeaSat5, but I’m the reason SeaSat5 is now a target. Both because of the hijacking and because of all the super soldiers showing up on board. If you’d never met me, none of this would be happening.”

  And now for the painful part. I swallowed hard, steeling myself against the truth. “Even if we’re not together, the pattern doesn’t change. Things get good, then they go to hell.”

  “You mean with TruGates?” he asked.

  “All of it, though that’s definitely a big one.”

  Silence fell between us, though Trevor’s gaze didn’t drop from mine. “You still miss him.”

  “I don’t know.” And that was the truth. At first, absolutely I did. But I wasn’t sure it was Josh that I’d grieved losing. Nor was it TruGates. It was that weird sense of normal. No time-travel. No powers except for the occasional use of mine.

  “I still want to shoot him for what he did to you,” he said.

  The uncharacteristic threat startled me. “Trevor.”

  “No. That was uncalled for.”

  “You shouldn’t even have to care.” The words spilled out of my mouth, all filters absolutely gone.

  He shrugged. “Well, I do. We’re still friends no matter what.” His thoughts revealed a different story. Though they were jumbled, a warmth and light I definitely associated with feelings of love shone through.

  I laughed, but it wasn’t from mirth. “I don’t deserve you and your friendship. I haven’t earned it. I’ve done nothing but be a bitch for the last year and a half. And before that, I dragged you into this war.”

  Trevor’s eyes narrowed and he reached for my hand. “Neither of us dragged the other anywhere. We both left the Franklin that night for two very different reasons. As for me caring or you deserving me or not, those are two things you don’t get to decide. I’ll always care about you, Chelsea. No matter what you do or what I say or even who we’re both seeing. If you’re happy, I’m happy. If you’re not, I’m not. That’s just how it seems to work.”

  I smirked at him. “That’s because we’re telepathic.”

  “Stop doing that,” he said, a sudden seriousness in his tone. It startled me, causing my stomach to drop. “Stop deflecting.”

  “I’m not.” Even as I said it, I knew the words were a lie. “Fine. Maybe I am. But it’s only because I know that…” I breathed in deep, holding it like an anchor, and letting the breath out slowly. Tears stung my eyes as a lump formed in my throat. “Every time something goes well, bad things happen. You. Josh. What next? We can’t afford that again, Trevor. Not us. Not the station. I can’t afford it.” My heart couldn’t take another betrayal, another painful loss.

  But this was war. And it wasn’t anywhere near close to being over.

  Trevor squeezed my hand. “I’m going to be here no matter what. I’m not asking you to take me back or anything. I just wanted you to know that while that gift was innocent, I do still have feelings for you.”

  I tapped the side of my head. “I know.”

  “I wanted to tell you with actual words,” he said dryly. “I love you, Chelsea. That won’t change. It never has before. I didn’t even think of the story you and your sister wrote when I saw this. Three years ago, on the one night I wanted to disappear completely, you saw me. Since the day I first saw you onstage at the Franklin, you’ve been like this insane beacon of hope—that lighthouse on the coast that you describe my presence as.”

  I swallowed thickly. I hadn’t realized he thought of me that way. A warmth grew in my chest and toes and radiated outward as chills ran down my spine. The good kind that preluded excitement and joy. But I clamped down on the feelings, too afraid to feel and think and give Trevor a window into something I didn’t understand myself. Was I even allowed to fall back into love with him, especially after I just recently found out Josh had died?

  Trevor leaned forward and put his hands on the edge of bed. When he looked at me, the lights bounced off his blue irises like sunlight kissing the tops of waves. It mesmerized me, reminded me of the home I’d found in oceans and beaches. I’d always felt safe on the coast, at ease and connected with the world. It was no wonder I’d come to find that same feeling in Trevor, only it had been magnified a hundred-fold. There wasn’t a single day—not even when we were fighting each other or when I thought he was working with Thompson all those years ago—that I hadn’t loved him. Never. Not even when I’d been with Josh.

  The realization slammed me in the gut, warmed me from the tips of my toes to my chest and head, like I’d been electrified in the best of ways. I reached out and cupped his face with one of my hands. We’d made it this far, beat the odds in this war, and we’d done it as Chelsea and Trevor, not as our ancestral counter-parts. This—living—we could do. As friends or as something more, I wasn’t sure and I didn’t know if it really mattered. Because throughout all of it, Trevor had been my constant. And that meant something. So did the hope he’d given me.

  I’d fight for that hope. I’d make sure Trevor had no reason to doubt the courage he saw in me, either, and that would be my gift to him. One I wanted to continue giving for a lifetime.

  “I love the phoenix, Trevor,” I said. “It’s perfect. I’m sorry I—”

  He lifted a warm finger to my lips to silence me. “No apologies.”

  My eyes searched his. He really didn’t care that I freaked. I mean, he cared, but it hadn’t ruined the mood of the whole night.

  My heart pounded in my chest, so much more thunderous than that time in the supply closet when I’d teleported to him and we first kissed. Heat swept up the back of my neck and it took everything within me not to blink or freak out. Because I hadn’t been this close to Trevor, hadn’t felt this electricity passing between us, in many months.

  Finally, I smiled. “Okay.” My breath came in shallow, slow gasps, making even speaking that single word nearly impossible.

  “I love you,” he said, eyes trained on mine. His blond hair had grown long since we’d boarded after the ceremony a few months ago. It swooped down onto his forehead in soft curls. I brushed them out of his face out of reflex. Out of a habit I thought I’d long ditched.

  “I will always love you, no matter what,” he said. “From here on out, none of that other stuff, none of what happened in the past, matters. It’s you and me from this moment onward. If you want it. And if you don’t… I’ll still care for you, but I’ll give you that space.”

  I nodded in small motions. “I like this plan.” Even if it sounded a whole lot like the one we’d made after the hijacking two years ago. We’d agreed to take it slow, to rebuild our relationship from the ground up with nothing but the truth. And maybe that was the key; maybe as long as we told the truth and trusted and respected each other, it didn’t matter how many times we had to rebuild. As long as we didn’t give up.

  Trevor grinned his wide Cheshire cat smile and drew closer, his gaze on my lips. “Good because I was really banking on you liking it.”

  He leaned in the rest of the way and captured my lips with his. Holy god it felt like everything that had separated us over the last year and a half had disappeared. I kissed him back with fervor and with every word I’d left unsaid. His tongue slid along my lower lip and I parted to let him in, angling us for a better, deeper kiss.

  He was slow, but thorough, then everywhere all at once. Making up for lost time. Losing us to minutes and hours and whatever future might await in the morning. Wha
tever that future would be, I was sure now that I could face it with him.

  Together.

  16

  Trevor

  I awoke with Chelsea wrapped in my arms, the both of us still lying on her bed. I stroked her cheek, smiling, and brushed hair out of her face. Nothing had happened between us beyond the kiss, but sleeping next to her had left me more relaxed and at peace than I’d felt in years.

  Happiness. That’s what it was. I’d almost forgotten what being happy felt like. Chelsea hadn’t said anything, but I could tell from the way her thoughts had become less like an angry storm that last night must have had the same effect on her, too.

  I glanced over at the clock. It was still early, only 5:45 a.m. It was the first time I’d slept solid through the night—and Waterstar map-free—since sometime before the hijacking years ago. In fact, I hadn’t had a Waterstar map episode in a while now. Why? It wasn’t like anything had really changed, and I knew it was still in my head. Did that mean my mind had gotten used to having all that information, that entire map?

  Stop. I shouldn’t question it.

  Chelsea stirred in my arms, her eyelids fluttering open.

  I kissed her forehead. “Good morning.”

  Her hazel eyes found mine, and she smiled, squeezing me tighter. “Hey.”

  The “hey” had a husky rasp that went straight south. Maybe it was because I’d woken up to the most beautiful woman I’d ever seen, and she might be mine again.

  Chelsea’s face screwed up into a cocky grin. “Oh really? Most beautiful you say?”

  I lifted up her chin and kissed her. “Stay out of my head.”

  She grinned. “No promises.”

  “Oh,” I said. “I almost forgot. Babel is almost ready.”

  Her eyes widened. “That was fast. Can we go see it?”

  “Sure.”

  We got up and I retreated to my quarters down the hall to shower while she did the same. We met up a half hour later and walked to the Bridge. I swiped my keycard at the entrance. The blast doors protecting the Bridge swung open, accepting our entry, and we trailed up to the front of the room where my station now resided. I clicked on my lamp to battle the otherwise dimly lit space and booted up my computer, hoping that to everyone else currently working here, we didn’t look like conspirators. No one paid us any mind, not even the engineer on the lower Engineering station.