I gave her a crooked smile and pushed my foot out more, relinquishing the argument. I pulled off the cloth and began eating, using my lap as a table while Margot tugged on the laces. The fare was simple, but good. The best part was the little portion of canned peaches; while they would never compare to the real thing, they were a sweet treat, all things considered.
Once I was finished, I handed the plate over to Margot and stood up, brushing my hand over my lap and chest to clear away the crumbs. “Thanks, Margot. Do you know where everyone is?”
“Oh! Well, Viggo is in the house. Ms. Dale, Cad, and a team left this morning to go raid some of the weapons depots. We’re apparently running desperately low on fuel. Thomas is fiddling around with the silver egg thing that you had with you in the palace, and Amber is currently teaching some of the cadets how to fly the heloship.”
I blinked. “Wow. You are really well informed.”
Margot laughed and shook her head. “Nah. Your fiancé thought you would want to know when you got up.”
I chuckled and nodded. “That sounds like Viggo. Well, if you’ll excuse me, I want to go check in with him, and then go check on my brother.”
Margot nodded, pressing her hand against my cheek, her smile deepening. “Of course, dear. Cad and I looked in on him this morning. Dr. Tierney assured us both that he’s going to be fine, but I’m guessing you’ll want to hear it from her.”
“Yes. And also, I’m just worried.”
“Well, stop talking to me about it and go see for yourself. Unless you want some help getting there? You are looking a bit… stiff.”
I drew in a deep breath and nodded. “That’s a word for it. Another word would be bruised and battered.” She frowned, and I reached out and took her hand, inexplicably happy that I could do that, because she was family. “I’m okay,” I reassured her. “And I’ll take it easy. I promise.”
She gave me a long, considering look, and then nodded. “All right. But you hear me now, Ms. Violet Bates: if you do push yourself too hard, then I’ll make you go to bed myself, even if I have to carry you there. Don’t mess with me, either—I’ve already seen my children through toddlerhood.”
I laughed, remembering Tim when he was a toddler. “Message received, Commander,” I said with a salute.
I was bolstered by the sound of her laughter as I turned and walked down the lane between the rows of tents running along the tree line. The grass was worn down and muddy from all the foot traffic the last few weeks, so I picked my steps carefully, heading to the familiar brown, dilapidated farmhouse that had become our new home.
I was just leaving the row and crossing the yard when Morgan jogged up to me.
“Violet!” she said, coming to a stop just in front of me.
I frowned. Morgan and I didn’t talk much. In fact, she seemed to let Lynne handle most of the meetings between us and the Liberators. “Hey, Morgan. What’s up?”
“Have you seen Owen? I mean, is he okay?”
My frown deepened, and I shook my head. “No, I’m sorry, but I was just on my way to check on him. Do you want to—”
“No!” she said, practically shouting. She took a step back, and then looked around, fidgeting slightly. “Sorry,” she said after a second, looking chagrined. “I just… I know Quinn’s in there, and I heard… I heard about what happened to him.” She frowned, and met my gaze, her turquoise eyes haunted with shadows. “I don’t do well with stuff like that.”
I completely understood. It was hard seeing what had happened to Quinn. The wounds Tabitha had inflicted on him, in order to make Amber talk… they were difficult even for me to stomach. But still, that didn’t make Quinn any less of a person, and I was certain he would love a visit from Morgan.
“You should come with me,” I said softly. “Quinn’s injuries, they’re hard, but I’m sure he’d love to see you too.”
Morgan frowned and shook her head, her short black hair fluffing wildly around her face. “Lynne’s said the same thing to me, but you both don’t get it. It’s fine. Just… if you hear anything about Owen, let me know, okay? I gotta go.”
I opened my mouth to argue, but she was gone, running back over to the firing range. I felt jealousy pulse through me for a moment, envying the way she could just break out into a run like that, effortlessly. I shook the feeling off. I was on the road to recovery, bumps and all, and I would get back to fighting form. It would just take patience—something not entirely within my skillset, but I could learn.
Viggo was sitting at the dining room table, examining some papers, a radio sitting in front of him. He looked up as I entered, his green eyes meeting mine and a smile growing on his lips.
“Hey, you,” he said, making as if to stand up. I waved for him to stay in place and then moved over to him, risking the pain to bend over for a chaste kiss.
“Hey yourself,” I said. “Have you checked on Tim? Is he—”
“Before you go off with your million questions, Dr. Tierney says he’s going to be fine. He is in shock, however, so it might be a little bit before he wakes up. By the way, you were in shock too.”
“I was?” Surprise radiated throughout me for just a moment at his revelation, and then the obvious signs started to fall into place. It made sense, when I thought about it. Still, I felt fine now, in spite of the nightmare from this morning. Then again, it seemed like nightmares were a constant phenomenon in my life at this point.
He nodded, his smile faltering a second. “Intense emotional and/or physical trauma,” he said, sounding like he was quoting somebody. “Want to talk about it?”
I frowned, suddenly wary. I had dreaded this confrontation, dreaded telling him about Owen, but knew I had to. I just didn’t want to do it now.
“I do,” I hedged. “But I need to talk to Owen first.”
Viggo frowned, confusion making the green in his eyes darken. “Why would you need to—”
“As soon as I tell you, you’ll understand. I just need you to trust me on this.”
Viggo’s frown continued, the lines on his face deepening. He studied me closely, and then gave me a bewildered nod. “I always trust you, Violet. Owen’s in the back with Dr. Tierney.”
“He’s all right?”
“His head wound was mostly superficial. He’s got a mild concussion but nothing else, so he should be fine to get to work. Do me a favor and ask him if he intends to stick around, and if so, let him know about our meeting? It’s at noon.”
I smirked at him, crossing my arms. “And when was I going to hear about this meeting?”
“Just now,” he replied tartly, a smile on his lips. “Now go—I know you’re dying to see your brother.”
“Hey, I’m also dying to see you.” I paused, considering my phrasing. “And you know, no more using the word ‘dying.’ It’s beginning to sound too close to my daily life.”
Viggo sighed and then reached out and tugged me close, gently maneuvering me until I was sitting on his knee. He rested his forehead against mine, lacing our fingers together. “How bad?” he asked, his breath caressing my face.
I exhaled and closed my eyes, resisting the urge to just curl up against him and fall asleep. “Bad,” I replied honestly, and his response was to wrap his arms around me, holding me close. “I’m so glad you came for me. Did I thank you for that?”
“No, and I never get tired of hearing it. By the way, am I winning yet?”
I rolled my eyes, but a smile tugged at my lips. “I thought we weren’t playing that game anymore.”
“We’re not, but let’s just call it an oldie but a goody.”
“Oh, just like you,” I teased, and a deep rumbling laugh burst from his chest as he cradled me closer, resting his chin on my head.
“Just like me,” he agreed. He held me like that for a few seconds longer, and then pulled back. “Did that help?”
“A little,” I admitted, taking just a moment longer to soak up his love and support. Then I stood. “I’ll be back in a little bit,” I
said.
He nodded, and I felt his eyes watching me as I turned and walked down the hallway, moving toward the first bedroom. It was partially open, and I pushed through, letting my eyes adjust to the dimmer light. The curtains were drawn, perhaps to keep the patients from having to stare into the sun, and I blinked at the change.
Dr. Tierney was hunched over by one of the walls, and when she turned, I realized she was examining Owen, who sat in a chair with his back to the wall. His eyes widened when he saw me, and then he looked away.
“Hey, Violet,” Dr. Tierney said. “Your brother’s still not awake yet, but—”
“That’s okay, Doc,” I said, leaning against the doorframe. “Viggo filled me in. But why did he go into shock?” I moved over to the bed where Tim was lying, noting the dark bruises mottling his face and arms. “Also, is that much bruising okay?”
Dr. Tierney sighed and moved up next to me, resting a hand on my shoulder. “In terms of blood loss, it’s negligible, but I did give him a blood patch, just in case. And as for going into shock… Well, to be honest, I don’t know. Best guess, it’s probably a reaction to the extreme pain he must have experienced due to the side effects of Dr. Jenks’ experimentation. Owen mentioned he was close to a hand grenade going off—much closer than you two. The kinetic energy alone, even with a wall in between, must have been agony for him. I’m sure he’ll wake up soon, though. I’ve got him on some mild painkillers.”
I nodded, the worry I had been keeping at bay slipping past my defenses. I hated seeing Tim like that, lying still, in a bed. A small part of me was grateful he hadn’t been able to see me that way—I could only imagine the toll it would’ve taken on him.
Turning, I looked at where Owen still sat in the chair, looking very guilty. His eyes met mine in a flick and then shot away, toward the ground. “Dr. Tierney, is Owen okay to leave?”
I turned my head back to her, and she blinked, her brows drawing together in confusion. “Yes? Why? I don’t recommend any missions until I’m sure his concussion is—”
“Nothing like that,” I assured her. “I just need a minute to talk to him.”
“Oh, of course. Yes, he’s fine, and he is okay to leave the room. Maybe not the camp just yet.”
“Excellent. Owen?” I turned more fully, resisting the urge to cross my arms over my chest and speak to him like a child.
“Yup.” He stood up and moved over to the door. I followed him into the hall, closing the door behind me.
As we walked past my old bedroom, Owen informed me, “Henrik’s in there at the moment—he’s been moved to start his physical therapy without disturbing Quinn.”
“I see,” I murmured, and reached over and opened the door to the small bathroom across the hall from Dr. Tierney’s room. “Here will do.”
If Owen thought it was odd for us to have this conversation in the bathroom, he didn’t say anything. I moved in, and he followed, closing the door behind us. I didn’t turn to face him just yet, facing the faded blue tiles of the wall just to compose my mind, trying to calm down the turbulent mix of emotions racing through me. There was a lot of anger and mistrust built up in me, making it difficult to view the situation clearly. I decided to start there.
“I’m angry at you,” I announced quietly in the small, slightly echoing confines of our room. “Angry… and hurt… and frankly, I don’t know if I can trust you anymore.”
“I know,” Owen said from behind me, and I turned.
“You don’t know,” I seethed, the words tumbling out. “You don’t have any idea what it was like, what I had to go through to get us all out alive. And Tim! Did you even think to check him? I mean, how did you even do all this? How could you do all this? It wasn’t even your idea to go to Ashabee’s! How could you have known?!”
Owen took a step forward, his body language and facial expression pleading. “Violet, there are no words I could begin to use to let you know how sorry I am. You’re right—what I did was beyond wrong. I see that now. I should’ve…” He took a step back and looked away, hiding the shame burning brightly behind his eyes. “I should’ve seen it then,” he finally admitted hoarsely.
I fell silent, feeling the hot press of tears behind my eyelids and pushing them back. “I don’t even know if I can believe you.” The words were hard to get out, making my heart ache fiercely at what his decision had cost us.
“I know,” he replied hollowly. I saw something drop from his eyes and splatter on the floor, and I realized Owen was crying. That only made me want to cry more. I turned away, facing the tiles again, and clamped my teeth together, hovering between despair and wrath and wishing none of this had ever happened. If only so I could have my friend back.
“You need to tell everyone,” I said. “You need to tell them everything. I won’t lie for you. I won’t, and you shouldn’t expect me to.”
“Violet, I would never—”
“I don’t need your reassurances right now. Because right now, they mean nothing to me. You do this… you accept their punishment… and then… then we’ll see. But right now, I just… I just need you to let me process this.”
Owen shifted behind me. “Of course I’ll do it,” he said, after a moment. “I was already going to.”
“Good. You’ll have your chance at lunch. We’re having a meeting, and I expect you to tell them then.”
I didn’t wait for his reply. I didn’t think I could bear it if he started making excuses or trying to get out of it. I hated thinking that he even would, but that was where I was with him. I felt like I couldn’t even trust that the person he had been in the past was the person he actually was. It was unfair, yes, but it was how I felt.
Pushing past him, I walked out, making a beeline for Dr. Tierney’s room and closing the door behind me, just so that Owen wouldn’t be tempted to follow me. I inhaled a deep breath, and then turned, pausing when I saw Dr. Tierney leaning over Quinn’s bed, a sponge in her hand.
“Am I interrupting?” I asked, suddenly nervous.
“No,” she said, shaking her head. “I’ll pull the curtains, but he’s sleeping. He doesn’t like it when I do it when he’s awake, although it’s more difficult this way.”
She dropped the sponge into a basin next to her, and then pulled on the curtain that some of the refugees had helped her rig to hang from the ceiling, blocking my view of Quinn’s bed. I tried to push away the image of the rows of sutures crisscrossing Quinn’s body, making him seem more like a patchwork doll than a human. I couldn’t—they would be forever imprinted on my mind, and it was heartbreakingly sad, in spite of his efforts to handle it with humor.
Moving over to the chair Owen had been in earlier, I dragged it over to the side of Tim’s bed and dropped into it. I settled back, adjusting my seat slightly, and then looked up at Tim, surprised to see his eyes open and watching me.
“Oh my God. Tim!”
I was up again in an instant, hovering over my brother’s head. He squinted up at me and then started to raise his hand, wincing when he pulled at the IV. “Violet? Where?” He cocked his head, studying me closer. “Hair?”
I reached up and touched my hair, frowning. “I… I got hurt at the palace. I’m okay, but… they needed to cut my hair for an operation. And we’re at a farmhouse in the country. We’re safe. Are you okay?”
He closed his eyes and then nodded. “Head hurts. Little… thirsty.”
“I can do something about that,” I said. I bent over to the little nightstand by his bed, picking up the glass jar filled with water that always seemed to be present in the sickroom, and poured some into a cup. I pulled out a straw from the drawer, slipping it into the cup, and then presented it to Tim with a flourish. “See? One glass of water.”
I pressed the straw to his lips, and he began to suck, drinking more than half the glass before he was satisfied. I set the cup back down on the nightstand and sank down on the bed next to him, being careful not to actually brush his legs with mine. He’d suffered enough skin damage from
his condition already. “Tim, before Ashabee’s, what happened to you? I was so worried.”
Tim blinked, and then shifted slightly, easing himself up on the pillows. “At palace. I cover Jay. Thomas. Then… explosion. Wall fall. I… sleep. Wake up—still night. Crawl out. Wardens. Everywhere. Grabbing people. Dead. Injured. Put in trucks. Then barrels. Big red ones. Put in different truck. I run. Then… lost. No can call. I look for home, but… don’t find. Three days in forest. Eat corn. Apples. Stolen.”
He gave me a guilty look, and I shook my head at him, impressed all over again at his sweetness. “That’s okay,” I said. “You had to eat. How’d you get back to Ashabee’s?”
“Walk. But lost. Took time. Find, and then hide. Wait for you.”
I bit my lip. “Tim, I am so sorry we didn’t find you sooner. We thought if you had found your way back there, the wardens would’ve grabbed you.”
“I smart. More smart than wardens.”
My smile was sad. “But Tim, you were there for so long. I should’ve looked for you, should’ve come back sooner.”
Tim frowned and then shook his head. “No. You hurt. In palace. Head and hand. You sick. I find you.”
“That’s not your responsibility!” I insisted. “I’m supposed to take care of you.”
Tim smiled crookedly at me, and shook his head. “No. Take care Violet, take care me. Team.”
I gave him a doubtful look, and he shifted his hand over, resting it on mine. “Team,” he repeated, his eyes stern.
I smiled softly under his scrutiny, and then nodded. “Team,” I said back to him, and he relaxed visibly, leaning back into the pillow. “I love you.”
He smiled back. “Love you too.”
10
Viggo
I was so glad Violet had told me about Owen’s confession before he had given it. Although, sitting there in the kitchen at our noon meeting, it was hard not to act upon my initial instinct and get up to punch him. The only things holding me in place were the fact that Violet had begged me not to hurt him, and the tiny voice inside me, still whispering that all of this was my fault.
The Gender Plan Page 8