"Femi," Heated lips whispered my name as hot arms enclosed around me. "Burn with me."
It was a command I couldn't disobey. Not like I had a choice, but I did burn. Gods, I burned with him.
The fire took us; skin and bone but it was different now. W...
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I vaguely remember setting the tent from the fremkit, hearing Paul say something about the sand in the wind at early times but as I sit before, the only thought on my mind is hoping Meia got out.
My eyes well with tears as I remember the last conversation we had- when she told me the truth.
"You told me my mother died in childbirth." The silence in the room was thick, almost a tangible thing. "You just failed to mention you were her killer."
Meia shakes her head, tears dribbling down her chin but my head is filled with voices overlapping -her voice; telling me that dread story, how she loved me like her own- that I am her own, how my mother would have loved me had she'd lived.
That one hurts the most, knowing she was the cause of why she hadn't lived.
"I hate you." My words hit her hard and I see her break."I know people will say it and don't mean it but I do, I hate you, Meia."
Tears well in my eyes but don't fall.
The tears fall this time.
I was so angry at her in that moment and now all could think was how I wished I'd forgiven her, hold her longer.
"This is Dr. Yueh's handwriting," Paul's voice breaks through my reverie. He's going through the kit, Jessica observing with her arms wrapped around her knees. "'If anyone makes it out of Arrakeen alive, there's an Atreides beacon in the fremkit. God willing, they'll be able to find you,'"
My brows furrow, this man's betrayal was making no sense though I didn't care to understand.
Continuing to search through the kit, he pulls out a cylindrical object wrapped in a piece of cloth, "It's a thumper."
"Stillsuits?" I ask.
He shakes his head, "the one thing we actually need." He pulls out something else, something smaller wrapped in cloth and unwraps it, revealing... Leto's signet ring.
Breathe in. Hold.
My gaze goes to Jessica, pushing her face into her arms, finger gripping her nightwear tightly. I rest my hand over hers and she flips it upwards and grips my hand tightly.
Her stuttered breath and quiet cries are the only things to fill the tent aside from the howling wind and sand raining against the outside.
My gaze goes to Paul, his hand closes around the ring and his head drops.
My chest caves with the pain and I realize that I am still holding my breath.
I exhaled and reached for him at the same time he reached for me, as if he sensed me, fingers locking around the back of my hand as our thumbs crossed -his grip just as tight as his mother's.
Time passes slowly in the grieving silence.
Light in the tent darkens signalling how much sand now covered the tent and how deep we were and it was starting to affect the air, I guessed by the way Paul was straining to breathe.
