by Zoe Cannon
Micah nodded. “Then we’ll wait.” He kept his eyes on hers, like he wanted to say something else. Like he was waiting for something. But he didn’t speak.
Something in his gaze made her turn away. Suddenly desperate for something else—anything else—to focus on, she stared out the window at the door of the building, at the road, at the clouds overhead threatening snow.
Micah cleared his throat. “Becca…”
Becca kept her eyes fixed on the clouds. “If I think of anywhere else to look, I’ll let you know.”
“That wasn’t what I…” Micah hesitated. From the corner of her eye she saw him fiddle with the temperature controls, turning the heat up, then down, then up again. “We haven’t had a chance to talk. Not since…” His voice trailed off.
Since she had said she loved him? Or since she had told him she planned to give herself up? Not that it mattered—none of it would change what had to happen. How this had to end. “There’s nothing to talk about.”
“You know that’s not true.”
She still didn’t look at him. She didn’t want to face what she had seen in his eyes. “You know—” The tremor in her voice caught her by surprise. “You know how I feel. And you know what’s going to happen tomorrow.” Eyes on the clouds. On the pavement. On the tuft of grass growing out of the sidewalk. On anything but Micah. “You’ve accepted it, I’ve accepted it, we’ve both accepted it. What is there to say?”
“I’ve accepted it,” Micah agreed. “That doesn’t mean…” He paused. “Will you look at me?”
She dragged her gaze back to the car. Back to the cramped space, much too small for the two of them—how had she never noticed the impossibility of sitting in this car next to someone else without feeling their body heat, without breathing their breath, without coming hazardously close to brushing against them with every move she made?
If the look in Micah’s eyes had been hard to face before, now it nearly leveled her. Pain and peace and fear and hope—it all pierced through her, through every wall she had tried to build between them. And love. Love most of all.
“It doesn’t mean I don’t wish it could be different,” Micah finished, his words barely more than breath.
Becca wished she still knew how to keep herself from feeling anything.
She wrenched her gaze from his. “I can’t think like that,” she said, staring at her lap. “Not if I’m going to do this.”
“Why?” Micah asked, his voice soft. “What are you afraid of? What will happen if you let me in?”
Becca paused, considering how to answer. “A month ago, I would have known I could get through the interrogation,” she finally said. “Even a week ago. But now… I don’t know. I’m not that person anymore—maybe I never was. I’m not strong anymore.”
“That’s not true.”
“It is.” She spoke as calmly as she could. Stating facts, nothing more. “Whether you want to see it or not, it’s the truth. I’m not what they need. I’m not superhuman. I’m weak, and I’m scared, and I don’t know what I’m doing.” She started to look up at him again, but stopped herself at the last minute. “You know how hard this is going to be. I can’t afford anything that makes me…” She hesitated as she searched for the right words.
“More human?” Micah supplied.
She nodded. “Exactly.”
“So let it make you strong instead,” said Micah. “When you’re in there, when they…” His voice tightened. “Remind yourself that you’re not alone. That I’m right there with you.” He placed his hand over hers, barely touching, like a question. “I’ll always be right there with you.”
Becca froze at the touch. The world dimmed as every sensation in her body narrowed to that tiny point. To his hand. To his words.
How could she walk into 117 thinking about Micah, about what she felt for him, about everything this fight had cost them? How could she keep herself from breaking if her heart was already broken?
Let it make you strong instead.
The warmth of his hand sank into her skin. Like the comfort of arms wrapped around her. Like the strength of a fire that wouldn’t die.
If she could carry that with her…
If she didn’t have to be alone…
I’ll always be right there with you.
“You know this is all we’ll ever have,” she warned. “In a few hours, you’re going to lose me. Nothing we say here will change that.”
“I know.”
“And you’re all right with that? You want this anyway?”
“All right with it? No. I want so much more than that with you. I want… I want everything.” His hand tensed over hers—and relaxed again. “But if this is all we can have—a few hours, a chance for me to be there for you when you need me most—then yes. That’s what I want.”
Becca turned her hand over to press it against Micah’s, palm to palm. She let her fingers curl around his.
She met his eyes again—and this time she didn’t flinch away.
I’ll always be right there with you.
“I used to wish you would come back.” She had never said it aloud before. The confession, simple as it was, made her feel skinless. Exposed. Instinctively, she started to pull her hand away—but stopped. Instead, she held on tighter as she spoke. “I imagined getting in touch with you somehow. Telling you that we didn’t need to worry about Internal anymore. That we could have the life—the future—we should have had from the start.”
“I imagined the same thing.” His admission met hers, their voices mingling in the space between them. “I used to think there would be a day when we could be done. When I could come home.” He let out his breath in a wistful sigh. “But maybe we had it wrong all along. Maybe that wasn’t ever what we wanted. Think about it. This fight will never end—at least not in our lifetime. And neither of us could have walked away while there was still work to be done.” He shook his head. “For us—for who we are—I think this was the only way it could have ended.”
Becca turned his words over in her mind. Slowly, reluctantly, she nodded.
Some part of her cried out in protest. The part of her that could still see the life they should have had—something bright and simple, with the future stretching out endlessly before them. A life without secrets, without doubts, without duty or the threat of death.
But he was right. That future had never belonged to them. This messy complicated thing in its place—this tangle of love and loss and sacrifice—wasn’t a failure. It wasn’t second best. It was simply the life they had chosen.
She didn’t regret that choice. And looking at him, she knew he didn’t either.
She was ready now. She could accept what she felt for him, and what he was offering her. And she could let it go.
And that meant she still had one more thing to say.
No. Two things.
“I want you to promise me something,” she said. “Not for now. For after.”
“Anything.”
Getting the words out was harder than she had thought it would be. Let go, she reminded herself. Let go. “Kara.” She ignored the confusion in Micah’s eyes as she continued. “I saw you with her when she came back. I saw how much she means to you.”
“It’s not—”
“It’s not the same. I know. But that doesn’t make it less than what we have. Just different.”
“What does that have to do with…” But he knew. She heard it in the silence as his words faded to nothing. She felt his wordless protest as his hand clenched around hers.
“In less than a day, I’ll be gone,” she said. “I won’t be coming back. And both of you are going to need someone to help you through this.”
He started to shake his head.
“I’m not asking you to replace me,” she said. “But you love her. Not the same way you love me, but you do love her. I’m asking you to give that a chance.” She ran her thumb gently over the fleshy part of his palm. “I’m asking you to let me go.”
&nb
sp; He flinched at the sound of his own words used against him.
And he nodded.
“Are you sure?” he asked.
“I’m sure.”
“A lot has changed since we came back here,” he said. “She might not feel the same as she used to. I might not feel the same. But I’ll give it a chance. I promise.”
She returned his nod. “That’s all I can ask.”
And now the second thing. The last thing.
“I love you.”
Not a desperate confession this time. Not a frantic attempt to save his life.
Just the truth.
Somehow, without moving, he drew her in toward him. Closer to his comfort. Closer to his strength.
Closer. Closer.
When their lips met, she didn’t think about their past. She didn’t think about the future they could have had. There was nothing but this moment. Nothing but Micah. Nothing but the collapse of the last wall that had stood between them.
She felt herself falling as the wall dissolved, as the ground under her feet crumbled into nothing. She didn’t fight it. They would fall together.
I’ll always be right there with you.
Minutes or hours or lifetimes later, a sharp buzz jolted her back to earth. Her phone.
It doesn’t matter. She pulled Micah closer. Let her lips swallow his questioning murmur.
But… there was something. There was—
Kara.
Memory slammed into her all at once. Guilt followed a heartbeat later. Kara. Her disappearance. The reason they were out here in the first place. They had forgotten to watch, had forgotten to think. And if that was Kara calling—
Becca fumbled for the phone as she drew back. She lifted it to her ear. “Kara?”
“I went to her apartment.” Tears and jagged hysterical breaths rendered the voice almost unrecognizable. Almost—but not quite.
Not Kara.
Vivian.
“Vivian?” Becca struggled to orient herself. “What’s wrong?”
“I keep thinking about what you and Ramon said the other day.” A gulping breath. “I keep imagining turning on the news and finding out she’s dead, and knowing I could have d-done something.”
“We can talk about it later.” Becca felt a tiny twinge of guilt at the lie. She would be arrested before they ever got the chance to have that conversation. “But not over the phone, okay?”
“So I went to her apartment. I wanted to w-warn her. To tell her that if I’d overheard that conversation, someone else might have heard it too.”
Icy tendrils of dread began to creep up Becca’s arms.
“The door was open. And inside, it looked… everything was…” A shuddery pause. “I should have gone yesterday. I should have gone the night we talked.”
The cold worked its way to Becca’s chest. “What are you trying to say?”
“Internal. They found out about Heather.” Another gulp, almost a sob. “She’s gone.”
Chapter Twenty
By the time Becca drove back to her apartment, leaving Micah behind to wait for Kara, she thought she knew what she had to do. By the time Vivian arrived at her door, she was sure.
“Have you called your mom?” Vivian demanded as soon as she stepped inside.
“Three times.” First in front of Micah and Kara’s apartment. A second time as Micah drove her home. The third after she had sent him back to his apartment to wait for Kara. Each time had been the same. Dialing the phone with shaking fingers, almost letting it slip from her grasp as she held it to her ear, reminding herself to breathe as she listened to the endless ringing. As she repeated her silent refrain. Please answer. Talk to me. Tell me this didn’t happen.
Just like that night five years ago, when Becca had tried to reach her mom after Heather’s call from 117.
But just like five years ago, her mom hadn’t answered.
And Heather—
She fought to keep her head above the tide of emotion that threatened to suck her under. You can think about it when you’re sure she’s gone. You can think about it when you’re done.
“She isn’t answering her phone,” she finished. “She’s probably in an interrogation.”
“So try her again. Keep calling until she answers.”
“If she’s in an interrogation, she won’t—”
“This is Heather we’re talking about!” Vivian’s shout cut Becca off midsentence. She stood with her hands on her hips, chest heaving. “We can’t let this happen.”
Say it, Becca ordered herself. Get it over with.
“Maybe it’s the right thing,” said Vivian. “Maybe everyone will be safer with her gone. But I don’t care. When I saw her apartment like that…” She choked back a sob as she lifted her chin in defiance. “I should have warned her earlier. I should never have thought about turning her in. But we’re going to fix it.” Her voice wobbled. “We won’t lose her. We can’t.”
Say it.
“Stop looking at me like that!” Vivian clenched her fists. “I know what you’re going to say, okay? I know.”
Becca tensed. She can’t know. She doesn’t have any way to know.
Vivian dropped her arms. She turned away.
“I know,” she repeated in a voice gone suddenly dull, all traces of her ferocity wiped away. “You don’t have to say it. I know.” Her shoulders shook with a single shudder. “It’s too late. I was too late. She’s gone.”
She sagged. Crumpled.
Becca caught her before she hit the floor.
Stumbling under her weight, Becca eased her to the couch. Say it. “It’s not too late.” You have to do this. For Heather. For the resistance. “You can still help her.”
Vivian shook her head. “You think I don’t know how it works? I’ve been with Internal as long as you have. I know what happens when someone disappears. She might as well be…” Another shudder. “She might as well be dead already.”
But Becca hadn’t missed the flicker of hope in her eyes.
“The people from your old program,” Becca began. “The ones Heather has been working with. Do you still have a way to contact them?”
“I can call—”
Becca shook her head before Vivian could finish. “Something Surveillance can’t listen in on.”
Vivian thought. “I know where one of them lives. No, two of them.” Her eyes narrowed in confusion, widened in horror. “Wait. Are you saying they’re part of this? The program was full of dissidents all along?”
“Not exactly.” Becca shifted sideways to face her. “If we don’t hear from Heather in the next hour—or if we find out for sure that she’s been arrested—go to them. Tell them someone from Processing found out about the plan and framed Heather to try and stop it.” For all Becca knew, that was exactly what had happened. After all, they couldn’t have found out about what Heather and Becca intended to do—if they had, Becca would have been arrested by now.
“What plan?” asked Vivian.
“It doesn’t matter. They’ll know what it means.”
“And they’ll get her out?” Hope and fear sharpened Vivian’s voice.
“If they can.” Becca’s own fear rose up to echo Vivian’s. Heather. Cold fear, sick guilt, reaching out to swallow her as the sound of Heather’s imagined screams filled her ears. Heather tortured. Heather executed. And the plan… the resistance…
But Heather still had a chance.
And so did the resistance.
Vivian’s hug, swift and fierce, caught Becca by surprise. She tensed in the grip of Vivian’s arms. “Thank you,” whispered Vivian. “I thought she… I thought I… Thank you.”
Don’t thank me yet. You haven’t heard the rest. Becca pulled away. “There’s…” Say it. “There’s something else you’ll need to tell them.”
“What is it?”
“Tell them…” Becca tried to swallow, but her mouth had gone dry. “Tell them to name me as the dissident leader. The one responsible for the breakout.”
“If you’re joking right now,” she hissed, “when Heather could be dead, I swear I…”
Her voice trailed off as she took a good look at Becca’s face.
“You’re not joking.” Half accusation. Half plea for Becca to contradict her.
Becca let her silence answer for her.
“You’re a dissident.”
Becca nodded.
“You caused the breakout.”
Another nod.
“You arranged those bombings. Killed those people. You’ve been trying to take over the town.” Her voice was as pale as her face.
“No,” Becca assured her. “Never. We’re not what Public Relations says we are. All we want is—”
“I don’t want to hear any more of your lies.” Vivian rocketed up from the couch as if Becca were contagious. “I’ve heard more than enough already.”
Becca lowered her eyes. “I’m sorry.” For three years, she had told herself she wasn’t betraying her friends by keeping this secret. Now, hearing the anger in Vivian’s voice, seeing the raw hurt in her eyes, she wondered how she could ever have believed it.
“How long have you been lying to me?” Vivian demanded. “To all of us?”
There wasn’t any point in trying to make it sound better than it was. “From the beginning.”
Vivian shook her head in disbelief. She let out a single bark of something that wasn’t quite laughter. “First Micah. Then Heather. Now you. Is there anyone left who isn’t a dissident?”
“Heather was never a dissident,” said Becca. “She believes in Internal as much as you do. Everything she did, she did to help me. That’s all.”
“So you did this.” The pain in Vivian’s eyes hardened into something harsher. “You’re the reason they took her.”
“I never wanted her to do it.” It sounded like an excuse.
The storm on Vivian’s face only grew.
Maybe Becca had screwed something up in her confession a moment ago. Maybe if she had just managed to explain it right, Vivian would have reacted differently. Or maybe her mistake had come much earlier, when she had accepted Vivian’s friendship without offering her the truth in return. Either way, she had made a fatal error. She had lost a friend; she had lost her chance.