by Coralee June
"Now? Kemper's going to find out how to get these fetters disabled. Maverick's going to find a cure. And we're going to enjoy whatever time we have left together."
There were still a million questions floating around the tip of my tongue, lashing against my teeth and begging to break loose. I wanted to feel in control of the situation and know that there was happiness at the end of our story. I could've spent all night trying to solve the problems of the empire, but more than I needed systematic control, I needed them. I needed normalcy and the comfort of our makeshift family. So instead of responding with all the concerns that plagued me, I simply said, "Okay."
Chapter Twelve
There wasn't enough room for all of us in the upstairs loft of the lab. However, none of us seemed willing to head back to Cavil's manor. Even though he was leaving, we all agreed to stay as far away from there as possible. So we made do, and even though we were in a small lab, in a strange land with cruel people, it was the first time I felt at home since leaving Dormas. Even Jules stayed with us despite her complaints about her stiff pallet on the floor and the lack of accommodations. I sensed that she, too, seemed happy to be surrounded by people she could at least marginally trust.
Once again, Maverick dived back into his work. I felt no resolution from our earlier argument. I knew it was foolish to linger in my feelings of disappointment. In the end, he was doing it to protect me—everything he does is for someone else. But when will he allow someone to look out for him? Looking back over the last few months, I realized that for all his talk and chastising, it was Maverick that was a martyr, not me.
Allaire came downstairs late in the afternoon. His nose was bloody and blue, but he didn’t bring it up. He simply shook Maverick’s hand, then asked, “Where do you need me?”
There was a strange shift in power between them. Where before, they argued about decisions, now there was respect in Allaire’s eyes. It was like he understood Maverick’s potential and determination with certain clarity. Even though they were able to shake hands and work on the task at hand, I wasn’t in a place mentally to comprehend everything that happened. I couldn’t dwell on the way Maverick held Allaire at the tip of his needle or the blunt force of his punches, because it made me question everything I knew about my soft, kind, considerate Black brother.
When I brought Maverick a plate of dinner brought over by one of Cavil’s Walkers, he refused to make eye contact with me, and only responded with "Thanks." It hurt.
"Why don't you take five minutes and eat your dinner. Sit with me," I said softly. Maverick looked like he wanted to do anything but talk. However, instead of arguing, he simply nodded his head and followed me over to the couch nearby where Kemper was hunched over, looking over the mechanical elements of a spare fetter.
Maverick opened his mouth to speak but closed it again, and the next time he opened his mouth, instead of talking, he simply forced as much food into it as possible, prohibiting him from speaking. Cheeky bastard.
"Do you know when I first started to think that I could love you?" I watched as Maverick struggled to swallow, both wary and pleased by the direction this conversation was going.
He sipped water before answering. "No?"
"It was at the clinic with the Walker woman. I didn't exactly know what the feeling was then, but I do now. I admired you. I thought that only someone wise, compassionate, and full of empathy could sit and hold a stranger's hand as they died," I said. It felt wrong to recognize such a sad time as when I started to fall for Maverick, but sometimes tragedy bred new beginnings. Emotions from a time that seemed so far away still felt raw and consuming. "I shared a part of myself with you, but now I realize that it wasn't just you at the clinic. I was there, too. We both guided and cared for her together. I need you to include me. I need you to not take on the burdens by yourself, because we work better when we share them."
"It's hard not to feel like I'm alone in this. I feel a lot of pressure at the moment, Ash. I can’t think straight when the people I care about are threatened. If Cyler would have done the same as me, I doubt you’d be having this conversation,” he said while looking over at his brother who was talking to Huxley.
He was right. I’d almost come to expect that Cyler and Huxley were the brute force of the group. They were the ones I’d expect to do whatever was necessary to protect the group. Protect their people. Perhaps that’s why I felt so disconnected from the Maverick that acted on impulse. It was a side of him that I wasn’t familiar with. I was used to the meticulous humanitarian.
“You’re right,” I replied with a shrug. Maverick looked into my eyes, and I smiled while staring back. I wanted to tuck a piece of his fallen red-brown hair behind his ear. “I’ve come to expect that from Cyler, and even Hux. With you it was different, maybe because I see you as the person that fixes the broken, not the one that does the breaking. It’s unfair of me to put each of your personalities into little boxes. So, I’m sorry.”
Mavericks fingers found mine, and I was soothed by the touch. “But, can I at least say I’m worried about you?” I asked. “I think you wear your burdens differently than they do. When I saw you threaten Allaire’s life, it was like a dam cracking.”
“I’m tired of being the one that thinks through every problem. I’m tired of not being the one to get the job done. I guess I just wanted to know what it felt like to fix something. When you were brought to the lab unconscious, it was terrible. I was stuck here while you suffered. It’s the same way I felt when my parents…" Maverick trailed off, and I watched his expression slip into helplessness.
"Your mother didn't just allow your father to suffer alone, she joined him. She embraced his fate, and in a way, I can see why you've done this. You've quite literally taken on my pain and suffering—possibly even my death.” I let out a slow exhale full of fear. “I can't fault you for that. It’s hard to believe or accept that anyone actually loves me that much."
Maverick untwined our fingers, then tentatively rested his palm on my knee, easing it up my thigh. I scooted closer to him so that our legs touched. While leaning on his shoulder, I wrapped my arms around him and held on tightly. We both stared at the matching fetters on our wrists while silently worrying over what would become of us.
"I just want us to survive together,” I said softly. “And if you did this to reconcile some of what she did, I understand. I forgive you. But I'm allowed to be angry, too. These feelings aren't one-sided. I'd do anything to make sure all of you are safe. Even if that means I'm not."
Maverick let out a dark chuckle. It lacked humor and restraint. "I guess we're all martyrs, then. When did we all become so quick to jump in front of death for one another?" Maverick asked.
Maverick, my sweet man with a heart that carried every burden he came across, seemed ruthless now. Maybe to some, this wasn’t a big ordeal. A few punches and a death threat seemed like a daily occurrence for Huxley. But as I fell for each of these men individually, I saw their unique struggles. Maverick may have been the peaceful nurturer but, when pushed to do the unthinkable, would dive into the depths of his moral boundaries to save those that he loved.
Chapter Thirteen
The next day, we watched from the lab's windows as Cavil and his men traveled down the street in their sleek, black transports. They had their windows down so they could wave at pedestrians as they went. I couldn't see his expression, but I could feel his confidence. I wanted to feel relief at his departure but couldn't. Cavil would be back. We were working on stolen time.
I wondered how Josiah was. I knew giving Cavil a false lead was not only dangerous, but it cost him. I shuddered to think of the torture he endured.
Last night, I kept mostly to myself. Although I was worried about Maverick, I still needed time to process the pain I endured, as well as all the feelings that kept being dug up while here in Ethros. I used to think life in Stonewell manor was bad, but being here made me realize that Josiah protected me from a lot of the evils of the world. Even though our s
ituation wasn't ideal, it was a lot better than what many other Walkers had to experience.
The guys crowded me, I sensed their need to be near, but I needed space to process it all. They were used to leaning on one another when times got tough, but I'd spent a lifetime in solitude, relying on myself and internalizing my process for coping. I'd never shared my pain with another person, let alone six, and it was too much to handle.
I openly gaped at Maverick's efficiency and emotionlessness. I felt uncomfortable with how detached he was becoming but didn't know how to bridge the disconnect and find the Maverick I once knew. Both he and Allaire dove into work, Allaire acting like a dutiful soldier as they worked through the puzzle of the disease.
After the excitement ended, Jules disappeared. She fought with Cyler for a good hour, but he eventually accepted defeat and let her go. I understood the need to feel less restricted, but I simply didn’t have the motivations to go outside and risk running into Blan or Webb again.
I spent most of the day lingering in the lab, watching Maverick. I made sure he wasn't pushing himself too hard, not that he'd let me intervene, regardless. I couldn't help but become consumed with observing him while secluding myself in the corner. Watching him felt compulsive almost.
The others seemed tentative around me. Each of them lingered but didn't cross what felt like an invisible barrier between us. It felt like we didn't know how to proceed. I knew what I wanted, but felt too damaged to reach out and grab it. It was Cyler that pushed past my barriers and approached me. He didn't seem to feel stuck in the limbo of doubt I created by secluding myself. He brought my lunch and massaged my shoulders while I ate. Still feeling stiff and sore, I stood while shuffling my feet, the constant movement helping to keep my muscles warm.
"Mav's going to be fine, you know," he whispered while pulling me to his chest and inhaling.
"I know, I just...I just worry," I tried to explain.
"Can I give you some advice?" Cyler asked while clutching me tighter. I abandoned my plate and relaxed into him.
"Yes," I replied.
"It’s not just Maverick that needs reassurance right now. Huxley is still recovering from watching you be tortured, Patrick is feeling helpless, Jacob is moping, and Kemper is itching to do something useful," Cyler said softly.
I closed my eyes and groaned. How would I ever be enough for everyone? How could I navigate their demons while fighting my own? I turned my head, and my cheek collided with Cyler's lips. I felt him smile against me, then his tongue snaked out and licked my jaw.
I giggled, the sound forcing everyone to turn and look at us. I saw the jealousy and pain in Patrick’s and Kemper's expressions. Huxley's juniper eyes still looked vacant, and I didn't even know where Jacob was. He disappeared upstairs an hour ago.
"We never got the opportunity to discuss this. It’s not fair of us to expect you to innately know how to juggle us, even in the best of conditions, let alone while being held prisoner. But as much as you're worried about Maverick, he'll be okay. They need you. I—it was really hard, watching you go through that. I feel like shit for even saying this. Hell, you're the one that's suffering—"
"Cy, I get it," I interrupted while rotating my body so that we were facing one another. I wrapped my arms around his neck and smiled. "You're the fearless leader. You're just doing what you do best."
"Messing shit up?"
"Leading."
I nuzzled into his chest as I felt their eyes on my back. This was hard to do even in normal circumstances, but despite it all, I wanted Cyler to feel my love, too. "And what about you? What do you need, Cy?" I whispered.
His gaze drifted over my head, probably connecting with someone behind me. I saw his eyes go hard for a second before they trailed back to me and softened.
"I need you," he whispered before lightly kissing me. I should have felt embarrassed about the public display of affection, but the love he poured into our kiss diminished all doubt.
I pulled back and smiled up at him. His long hair a mess and past his shoulders, his strong features and playful smile.
"But even more than that, Babe, I need this to work. So go reassure them. Patrick does best with words. Huxley needs touch. Kemper needs to feel like he's helping you—give him shit to do. And Jacob? He's going to need alone time, more so than the others."
"Okay," I mumbled before kissing him on the cheek. I took a moment to look at him again. Cyler was ruthless, yes, but even more so, he was intuitive and caring. I squeezed his hand before turning away and walking towards Kemper.
"Hey, Kemp?" I asked. He uncrossed his arms and straightened his spine, suddenly alert. "Do you think you could help me find some other clothes?" I looked down at the oversized t-shirt I woke up in. Kemper smiled at my request.
"Absolutely," he replied with enthusiasm. I was momentarily amazed by how he preened under the opportunity to do something. After opening and closing his mouth and blushing, he asked, "Do you want anything in particular?"
"Just something comfortable. Maybe a hair brush, too?" I ran my hand through my hair and frowned at the mass of curls and tangles. "What a mess," I said.
"A beautiful mess, but yes. I'll find you one." He kissed my cheek and excused himself. I noticed a lightness to his step that wasn't there before.
Once he was gone, I tiptoed over to Huxley, who was sitting on a leather loveseat and staring blankly at a wall. Patrick sat next to him, resting his forearms on his knees and looking at the ground. When I got closer, I placed a finger on Huxley's knee and said, "Mind if I sit here?" Huxley slowly turned his face towards me while clenching his jaw."Will it be because you want to, or because Cyler told you to?" he asked in a cold voice.
Patrick looked up at me, instantly curious about our conversation.
"Can it be both? I won’t deny that I make mistakes. I don't know how to be in a relationship, especially one with six men. Also, I'm trying to survive. So, maybe you can have a little grace and hold me?" I asked.
Patrick grinned a little while licking his lips.
Huxley simply nodded and held his arms out for me, and I crawled in his lap. He instantly relaxed at my touch, and I was surprised at the relief I felt as tension left his body.
Patrick placed a hand on my thigh, and I laced my fingers through his. It was a light touch, one that reassured me of his presence, but still felt respectful of Huxley's space. Huxley eyed our entwined fingers for a moment before resuming his staring contest with the wall.
"How are you doing?" I asked Patrick. I knew Cyler said he needed words of reassurance, but I didn't know where to begin. Was he not feeling sure about me? About us? About our situation?
"I don't even know," he replied. From the corner of my eye I saw Hux's lip twitch. "I had to stand by and watch you suffer," he swallowed. "Then you passed out. Cavil was mad that we weren't staying in the ivory room, but none of us were interested in those Walker Companions. All we could think about was you."
I knew nothing happened; it was strange feeling so confident in something still so new, but even though it hurt to see the Walker women hanging all over them, I knew it was nothing compared to what we had.
"Then I was passed out, and by the time I woke up, Cavil arrived and Maverick took charge," I added.
"And here we are," Patrick ended. I leaned my head against Huxley's chest, listening to his heartbeat and allowing the cadence to ground me.
"I love you, Patrick. I never wanted to take you back to that place of feeling stuck in your circumstances. I avoided you because it kills me to know I put that sad, faraway look in your eyes," I admitted while my vision went glassy with unshed tears. I gripped his hand tighter.
Patrick swallowed deeply before responding. "You're really okay though, right? You'd tell us if you didn't feel well or if something wasn't right?"
"I promise. I'm sore, but I'll survive. I know you would have saved me if you could."
"I love you," he murmured before leaning back on the couch. While our hands remained e
ntwined, he closed his eyes, as if he couldn't sleep until he felt resolution between us. And when light snores filled the lab, I pulled myself from his grip and stood, Huxley following after. He then adjusted his brother so that he was lying down on the couch, and covered him with a blanket. The act was so incredibly thoughtful and second-natured that I couldn't help but smile at the love and bond between them.
Huxley grabbed my hand and walked me upstairs, where Jacob was nowhere to be found. I frowned as my eyes scanned the place looking for him.
As if he knew exactly what I was looking for, Huxley answered my thoughts. "He went to town for something, but he'll be back." I nodded as Huxley pulled me towards Maverick's bed and laid down. I joined him, and rested my head on his chest.
"Patrick didn't sleep at all last night," Huxley said in a low voice, the sound like a low grumble in his chest, vibrating against my ear.
"And what about you?" I asked.
"I slept plenty, just didn't sleep well."
I began stroking his chest as my eyes grew heavy. I wondered when I became so comfortable around Huxley.
"Ash?" he asked.
"Yeah?"
"I'm not good with words," he said, and I smiled.
"You don't say?" I bit the inside of my cheek as he squeezed my hips and laughed.
He let out a low chuckle before continuing. "Surprising—I know."
I took my leg and placed it over him. My oversized shirt that smelled like Cyler rose, and my thigh touched his stomach on the bare patch of skin between his shirt and pants. Huxley took his hand and rested it on my butt while shifting me so that I was more on top of him.
"I always say the wrong thing to Patrick. You get it right with him."
"I'm trying," I replied with a yawn. We didn't talk anymore. We both enjoyed the comfort of one another as he told me he loved me without saying a word.