The Legion

by Melissa Delport

  “But . . . I thought; I mean aren’t we good? I thought we were good? I’ve put an end to all that. I want to be with you.” I barely notice Henry walking away, giving us our privacy.

  “Do you?” Reed sounds dubious. “Do you really? You might have convinced yourself but you can’t fool me, Tiny. You’re doing what you think is right, which is not necessarily what you want.”

  “I love you,” I insist, completely honestly.

  “Yeah,” he nods his head. “I know you do. But I’ve seen the way you look at him. I can’t watch that. I’ll go bat-shit crazy.”

  “Please don’t leave,” I beg. “We’re so close to home, we can sort this out when we get back.”

  “I’m not going home,” he interrupts, sounding cold.

  “What?” That doesn’t make any sense.

  “I’m not going home,” he repeats firmly. “I’m gonna head down to Georgia, I want to check on Cathy and Norman. I haven’t seen them in a while.” It’s a lame excuse and he knows it.

  “When will you be back?” I can’t even believe I am asking; this whole situation is absurd.

  “I don’t know,” he replies ominously. I want to beg him to stay, to grab hold of him and stop him from leaving me. “I’ll need a car,” he adds. “We’re close enough to home that you should be all right getting back with one less vehicle.” This triggers something in my head; it’s like he planned it. Planned it so that we could get home without the car that he intended to take.

  “How long have you been planning on leaving?” I ask, accusingly.

  “How long have you been torn between the two of us?” he counters.

  “You said you would fight for me,” I remind him, “even if you had to fight dirty.”

  “You have to believe there’s something to fight for. I’m almost packed.” He lowers his eyes. “I’ll come and say goodbye before I leave.”

  I turn away before he can see the tears. I will not let him see me cry. I walk until I am out of sight and then I collapse on the ground, hugging myself tightly and trying not to break down. What will I do without him? He is the one person I trust more than anyone, the one person I can rely on. He is always there, saving me, saving the day. I have never felt so alone.

  “Rebecca,” Henry interrupts timidly and I sniff loudly, lifting my face to meet his kind eyes. “I’m sorry to intrude, but you wanted to speak to me?” Concern is written all over his face.

  “Yes,” I wipe frantically at my face and pull myself together. “You said I should tell you if I felt ‘off’?” I remind him and he nods. “Well, I’m feeling off. And after what I saw in the bus this morning, I need to know that I’m not going to get sick. Particularly now . . .” I don’t want to finish the sentence. Particularly now that I am the only soldier with the Power of Three we have left.

  It takes Henry about fifteen minutes to complete his check-up. When he is done he meticulously packs away all his instruments, his face a blank mask, giving nothing away.

  “What it is?” I ask, feeling anxious. “Should I take the antibiotics?”

  “No,” Henry answers, zipping up the bag and kneeling in front of me. “You don’t need it.”

  “Is it viral?” I ask, and he smiles, shaking his head.

  “No, it’s not viral,” his voice is soft and I feel an irrational surge of irritation that he is being so cryptic.

  “Spit it out, Henry,” I snap, my voice losing all traces of apprehension.

  “You’re not sick, Rebecca,” he smiles fondly. “You’re pregnant.”

  Chapter 33

  My first instinct is to laugh.

  “Henry, I hope you were a better neurosurgeon than you are a GP,” I chuckle. He doesn’t answer. “I can’t be pregnant,” I explain patiently. “I’ve been sterilised.”

  At this, his eyes widen in shock, “But . . .”

  “So you see, you must be mistaken.”

  “I’m not, I’m sure of it.” I can see he is mentally exploring all the other options.

  “It’s not possible,” I continue, feeling deflated. We are back to square one. We still have no idea what is wrong with me.

  “How were you sterilised?” he asks suddenly.

  “Tubal ligation,” I answer automatically.

  “Bipolar coagulation or fimbriectomy?” he asks and I roll my eyes, how does he expect me to understand that?

  “The fallopian tube,” he explains in layman’s terms, “did they cauterise a section of it, or did they remove a portion altogether? In some cases, cauterisation isn’t a hundred per cent successful, there’s still a small chance . . .”

  “They removed the tube,” I interrupt, silencing him. Removal of the tube closest to the ovary is entirely effective and completely irreversible, it eliminates the ovary’s ability to capture eggs and transfer them to the uterus. Henry looks perplexed.

  “I could have sworn . . . All the signs are there,” he insists.

  “Well, that’s not it,” I repeat. We both fall silent. My thoughts stray again to Reed and the fact that he is leaving.

  “When was your last menstruation?” The question comes out of the blue. “You still menstruate, right?”

  “Yes,” I answer, flushing to be having this discussion with him.

  “So when was the last time?”

  The question throws me. Now that I think about it, not since we left Vegas. I am fairly regular and I should have had at least two periods by now.

  “It’s not possible,” I repeat, with far less certainty. Henry smiles.

  “I think you’re pregnant, Rebecca.” He considers this for a while and then, “It’s the healing!”

  “What?”

  “Your body heals itself, it must have healed the damaged portion of your fallopian tubes. It’s actually not that big a stretch, considering the other injuries you have recovered from.”

  “But I had it done years ago!” I insist. “And I was married! Surely if my body had healed I would have . . .” I trail off, comprehension dawning. “Oh God!” Eric had been sterilised too. And he couldn’t heal. He could never get me pregnant even if there was nothing wrong with me. Even if I was fertile. But Reed . . . Reed was more than capable of getting me pregnant if my sterilisation has been reversed.

  “Oh God!” I repeat, suddenly feeling violently ill. My body feels unfamiliar and my head is spinning. I put it down between my legs trying to think rationally. I know that he’s right. It explains so much. The past few weeks I have been far more emotional than usual. It started as early as Los Angeles. I had wondered why Tim’s death had affected me so badly. I adored him, but I had lost people much closer to me before and had coped far better. In the tunnels Marcus had died because of my own foolish actions and I hadn’t taken it half as badly. My erratic behaviour, the tearfulness, the oversensitivity, my inability to make decisions. It all makes sense.

  “You’re sure?” I ask eventually, gazing up at Henry.

  “I’m positive. You have all the signs; the nausea, dizziness, fatigue. Your blood pressure is slightly elevated. More importantly, you’ve missed your period.” I think I’m going into shock, and I start to shiver. “When was your last menstrual cycle?”

  “Shortly before I left Vegas. About three months ago.”

  “And any idea as to conception?” he asks awkwardly.

  “About two and a half months ago,” I answer in a monotone, remembering that first time in Toledo after we blew up the lab. When I realised that Reed was alive and how much he meant to me.

  “Mid-cycle,” he nods wisely, “your most fertile time of month, incidentally. Well, I’d say this calls for a celebra . . .”

  “No!” I cut him short and get to my feet. “No, Henry. No one can know, do you understand me? No one.”

  “But,” he frowns in consternation, “why on earth would you want to keep this a secret
?”

  “Henry, no disrespect, but you lived on that ship for twenty-eight years. You have no idea what’s been going on. This little ‘search and rescue’ mission may seem exciting, but there’s a real war going on out there. People are dying. I have an army to lead. You may not understand,” I press as he seems about to argue, “but you will do as I say. No one can know.” Finally, he nods, but I can see the reproach in his eyes. “I need your word.” He sighs, shaking his greying head. “Your word, Henry!”

  “All right,” he relents. “You have my word. I won’t tell a soul, your secret is safe.”

  As we approach the now packed and ready vehicles Reed slams the trunk of the Discovery shut and turns to face me.

  “You’re taking my car,” I narrow my eyes at him.

  “I’ll look after it,” he promises. We stand facing each other, my chest tightening in desperation. I don’t want him to leave. The thought alone makes me want to throw myself on the ground, curl into a ball and never get up again. I know I can stop him all too easily. Reed would never leave my side if he knew I was carrying his child. But how can I be that selfish? I can see the pain etched on his face, it’s not fair to him. I am not over Aidan; I may never be. It’s torturing him; this brave, wonderful man who has only ever wanted the best for me. I have to be selfless and let him go and pray that he finds his way back to me when the time is right.

  “You take care of yourself,” I murmur, my voice breaking. He pulls me into his arms, squeezing me so tightly that I can hardly breathe and I hold on to him desperately. Eventually he drops a kiss on my hair and releases me so quickly that I stumble back a few steps. Jumping into the Discovery he starts the engine and does a U-turn, then he drives away without looking back.

  I have sobbed myself into oblivion, trying to convince myself that I am being overemotional, that my hormones are wreaking havoc, but deep down I know that this has nothing to do with how I am feeling. Reed is gone and I am alone. I can hear the others calling for me and I drag myself into a sitting position, wiping my face with my sleeves. It is Jethro who tracks me down, a brief look of relief crossing his face before he registers the state that I’m in.

  Retreating slightly he hollers back at Archer that we’ll be there in a minute and everyone should load up. Then he walks slowly forward and drops down onto the soft grass beside me.

  “He’ll be back, you know.” He puts his arm around my shoulders pulling me against him.

  “I know,” I nod. I have to believe he’ll come back.

  “With any luck we’ll be home for dinner,” he tries to cheer me up. “You’ll see Alex.”

  “And you’ll see Veronica,” I smile weakly up at him. He can’t hide the goofy smile that stretches across his face.

  “Yeah, I’m looking forward to it,” he grins.

  “I’m sorry that you didn’t get to say goodbye.” Everything in Durango had happened so fast. Jethro had followed my instructions without question and he had not even had a chance to say goodbye to Veronica.

  “It’s okay,” he says. “It’s the life we live.”

  I realise that I barely know anything about Jethro. He is a few years younger than I am, olive-skinned and dark, but he is not prone to prattle and generally keeps to himself.

  “Where did you get your ability?” I ask. Jethro’s Gift is speed, but he has trained extensively with Kwan and can hold his own in battle, regardless of what he comes up against.

  “Eric Dane,” he answers and I blink in confusion. That doesn’t make any sense. Jethro was one of the two hundred people on Eric’s list and he was extricated from the States by the Resistance during our search for these Gifted people. Why would Eric be searching for someone he had Gifted himself?

  Jethro’s answer is not what I expect.

  “My twin brother Mason and I were conscripted into the Dane army when we were twenty-two. I was to be given the ability of speed, while he was given strength. He was excited, proud to be serving his country. I really only volunteered because he did, he was always the stronger and I idolised him. Ironically, I survived my procedure but he didn’t make it.”

  “I’m sorry.”

  “It happens. He knew the risk. My resentment towards Eric grew. He had taken my brother from me and it didn’t take long before I became disillusioned with Dane rule. I didn’t agree with many of his laws and eventually I decided to get out. I couldn’t cross the fences. I believed the propaganda and feared the barren lands, so I fled to North Dakota. I changed my name, started making a life for myself and tried to forget the horrors of those few months. Everything was working out well. I spent six months living under the radar, or so I thought. I must have made a mistake if I ended up on Eric’s Gifted list. Joining the Legion was the best decision I’ve ever made. At least out here I don’t have to hide who I am.”

  “Who got you out?” I ask. When we were searching for the Gifted on Eric’s list we split into teams but I had never been near North Dakota.

  “Kwan and Morgan,” he answers. “They saved my life.”

  “I’m glad they found you, Jethro. What was your real name, anyway?”

  “It doesn’t matter,” he shrugs. “He died along with Mason, almost two years ago.”

  As we reach the others I try wearily to figure out which car I should travel in. I miss my beloved Discovery already and the modicum of privacy and independence it gave me. Seeing my reddened, puffy eyes and no doubt blotchy face, Aidan takes a step forward, but then seems to think better of it. His hand is linked with Sofia’s, but surprisingly, I am so consumed with Reed’s departure that it hardly bothers me. I ride with Jethro and Archer in the Humvee, stretching out in the back and letting the rocking motion of the big car lull me to sleep.

  “Rebecca,” Archer shakes me gently, “we’re almost there.” I open my eyes and see the excitement shining in his. I sit up quickly and move forward, taking the passenger seat. We are almost home, about to reach the entrance to the mountain corridor.

  “Different cars,” I murmur and Jethro cocks his head towards me.

  “What?”

  “Different cars,” I repeat. “They won’t know who we are. This is a NUSA Humvee.” I raise my eyebrows and he registers my point.

  “Ah, that’s not going to get us the most welcome homecoming.” He stops the car and both the truck and the bus creak to a halt behind us.

  I jump down into the soft sand and break into an easy jog, keeping my face tilted up and visible to the scouts. As I pass through the corridor, I see the flash of light on the ridge, one, two, three. All clear. I turn back, waving to the others to proceed and as the Humvee draws alongside me, I climb onto the side rail, watching our home come into view.

  My father is one of the first to reach us.

  “Bex!” His delight is obvious and he lifts me up and spins me around before setting me back on my feet.

  “Dad,” I smile up at him and then I hug him again. “Oh, I’ve missed you!”

  “You were gone a long time,” he reproaches and I remember my concerns.

  “Did everyone make it back safely?”

  “Yeah,” he nods. “It was an interesting trip, but we’re all here safe and sound. Chase is in the holding cells and Adam’s people have been put up in a temporary hostel until we can make arrangements for their accommodation.

  “David and Morgan?”

  “They’re here too; they arrived with three of Adam’s men. Everyone is fine.”

  “Thank God,” I heave a sigh of relief.

  “I assume by your travelling style that you found more survivors,” he stares at the bus, clearly amused.

  “Yeah, a couple more,” I laugh, and start making introductions. Soon enough I leave Adam and my father to sort out the newcomers and I go in search of Alex. I try the school but it has already closed so I head over to Jenna’s.

  “Becca girl!” she scr
eeches as she opens the door, engulfing me in a bear hug. “You’re back!” she wrinkles her snub nose, grinning in excitement and hollers down the passage, “Alex!” I step into the house and the next moment I am practically flat on my back as Alex streaks into my arms.

  “Mom!” he shrieks happily, and I ruffle his hair, pulling him against me tightly and breathing in the sweet smell of him. For a few minutes we snuggle together and I forget everything else. Aidan and Reed, the Ordinary, the Deranged, the whole sordid mess outside fades to grey as I just enjoy this moment with my son.

  “Did you blow up the lab-rat-torry?” he asks eventually, his little face dancing with excitement.

  “How do you know about that?” I ask, rounding on Jenna.

  “Oh please,” she waves her hand airily at me, “there’s no keeping anything from this child, he’s far too bright.”

  “I brought you something,” I tell Alex, trying to distract him.

  “What?” he whispers conspiratorially. I grab the packet I dropped when he launched himself at me and I pull it onto my lap. Alex sits on my leg, bouncing impatiently.

  When I pull out the toys he jumps up and down on the spot, unable to contain himself.

  “Can I play with them now, Mommy?” he asks. “Can I, can I?”

  “You can, boy,” I laugh, as I get up and move to the couch. I flop back and rub my eyes, stifling a yawn.

  “Why don’t you have a shower, Becca,” Jenna wrinkles her perfect nose. “I have soap and everything.” I throw a cushion at her and kiss the top of Alex’s head as I pass, making my way to the bathroom.

  Jenna fetches some clothes from my place and half an hour later I am cleaner than I’ve been in three months, wearing a long-sleeved pale blue V-necked shirt and a soft, well-worn pair of denims. Combing out my damp hair, I join Jenna in the kitchen as she makes coffee.

  “So, what happened?” she asks, pouring the hot water. “You sure sent a lot of people back here.”