The Little Lightning Girl

59- Can't Stop Falling

I spooked myself awake as the clock struck four in the morning. Realizing immediately that I was nearly hyperventilating, I forced myself to drag deep breaths into my lungs, focusing on the open sky lights above me. Every time I awoke from a nightmare, the stars above winking at me through the glass soothed me.

While I'd been at the World Cup, Noah had put a fourteen foot tall grandfather clock in my cabin. He'd meant it as a joke, but little did he know, I actually loved the look of old antique things and had thought it was a gift. I kept it and asked Raegan to help me figure out how the gears worked so I could fix it up to actually work. Usually the chimes of the clock didn't wake me up, but tonight I was glad that they had. I sat up and absentmindedly reached for my wand, shooting a silencing spell toward the clock.

Though they happened less frequently now, nightmares still plagued me a few times a week. Memories, I supposed they were really. Reminders of a time when all I could do was tap in Morse Code to James through thin walls. When all I could hear outside my cell walls were the anguished screams and cries of other witches and wizards from around the world who had been captured just as we had.

This particular nightmare was the worst one. It was about Pietro. I never knew his last name. It had occurred to me recently that really, I remembered him for one reason and only one: he was kind. Those books he'd slipped me late at night saved me. I might very well have gone insane if I hadn't had something else to focus on. James might have gone insane. And learning a language, as strange as it had seemed at the time, had given me something to learn and something to look forward to. I couldn't say enough words to thank Pietro, and even if I could, I had no one to say them to. Although he hadn't been able to break us out, he had saved my life. He'd gotten us out in the end, with that spell and by letting us take his wand.

The dream, though, wasn't about those late nights reading.

It was about hearing him tortured after his boss found out that he'd been communicating with prisoners. I had listened from my cell, trying to convince myself to do something, to do anything at all. Instead, I sat in my cold dark, cell of concrete and curled in a ball to wait for his screams to stop. To wait for him to die. I knew I'd regret it for the rest of my life, not doing anything to save the man who'd done so much for us.

So when my clock jolted me away from my nightmare, I wasn't longing to go back to sleep. I sat up and curled my knees toward my chest and buried my face in my flannel pajama pants, trying to breathe.

Soon enough, though I fought to keep them at bay, tears leaked silently from my eyes, "Please forgive me, Pietro. I am sorry."

I didn't realize until after I'd said it that I had spoken in Russian, the language he taught me. And then I let loose a sob, muffled by my sleeve over my mouth.

My cabin door creaked open. A familiar frame cast a shadow on the moonlit floor boards. Adrian came towards me, sat on my bed next to me and opened his arms. I fell into his body and he held me as I cried. I'd told him more about what I endured than most people. Aside from him, only Raegan knew more. Even Kaley, with her incredible gift, was missing some details that I'd likely never tell her. But Adrian, with the grim understanding he showed whenever we spoke... I knew he was safe. 

"I'm here for you," he whispered into my hair, "Always."

Despite my sobs, I felt it keenly when the hand that smoothed my hair back moved aside a couple strands from my face. His touch was more tender than ever. After several more minutes, I managed to get my tears under control. Adrian pulled away and held my shoulders at arm's length to look into my eyes, "Do you want to talk about it?"

I shrugged and leaned my head on his shoulder, still taking in deep breaths and counting the seconds between each one.

"His name was Pietro. He was a guard at the place we were kept. He was just twenty-three. He snuck us books and taught us Russian."

Adrian looked confused, "you know Russian?"

"Sort of. He didn't know much English, so we figured it out. He was kind to us. But then he was found out and tortured for being our friend. His boss thought that we might have told him things that they hadn't been able to torture out of us, but might be able to torture of out him," tears streamed down my face as my voice grew unsteady, "I listened to him scream for hours."

I choked and desperately tried to control my shaking breaths as I went on, "I sat in my cell saying nothing, doing nothing, as he died. I hate myself for it. I should have fought, I should have tried to-"

Adrian cut me off by pulling me into his arms again, rubbing a hand up and down my back. I felt his warm breath on my neck and could feel his heartbeat pounding through his chest. Although I'd told him so much of what had happened, I had kept the part involving Pietro rather short. I didn't quite understand why he wasn't running away, now that I'd told him of my cowardice and weakness. I'd listened to a friend die, and I hadn't done anything about it.

"Why don't you hate me?" I asked, still mumbling into his shirt.

He pulled back enough to press a gentle kiss against my forehead. Even in the midst of my tears, it made my heart pound.

"Because you're you," he said it as if it were really that simple, "and you are the most selfless person I know, and anyone else who has ever been in your position, did the same thing. I would know."

"What?"

He paused, and it wasn't hesitation in his eyes so much as it was fear, "You know I had a quest when I was thirteen, and my friend died in front of me. But what I didn't tell you, didn't tell anyone, was that while I was tied to a burning pole, I managed to get my hands free of the rope. I could've saved Mara, and I didn't. For the good of the quest, the stupid quest, I let her die. I was furious with myself. So yes, I know how you feel. But later I realized that if I had tried to save her, they'd simply have killed us both. And if I'd died then, I would have never met you or James, I'd never have met so many of the people I care about today."

After his confession, I just looked at him. Actually, 'stared' might have been more accurate. Gods above, I loved this boy. His beautiful stormy eyes shone in the moonlight from my skylights, his dark hair messy from sleep and his long, muscular limbs stretched out so he could hold onto my hands.

He must not have thought me staring was strange, because he let go of my hands and stroked my face gently, brushing away my tears with feather-like touches.

He leaned closer to me and when our foreheads touched, I heard him barely whisper, "You are... an angel."

I reached out and grabbed a fistful of his shirt, "How can you say that wh-"

He cut me off by gently lifting my chin and pressing a sweet kiss to my lips. It may sound completely cheesy, but I'm fairly certain that fireworks really did go off. After I got over my shock, I wound my fingers into his hair and he pulled me closer so he could wrap his arms around my waist. He held me like he never wanted to let go, and I couldn't have broken away to save my life or his. But after a few moments, he pulled away and after we caught our breath, he delivered the perfect line, "Because without you, nothing in my life makes sense. It's the same reason I can say that I think I'm falling in love with you, and I couldn't stop falling if I tried."