Fractured

6: Hitting a Wall

RACHEL

Since the war began weighing heavily on us, I've found myself unable to sleep. The nights stretch out like endless tunnels, filled with shadows that seep into my thoughts. I'm not alone in this; Marco has become my late-night companion. Our clandestine meetings at the treehouse started as an escape—a way to momentarily break free from the suffocating responsibilities that loom over us. It's become our secret sanctuary, nestled high in the branches of an old oak, a place where we can breathe, even if just for a little while.

In that treehouse, we've shared whispers and quiet moments, spilling our fears and hopes like fragile secrets into the night air. The walls are adorned with the remnants of our childhood—old posters peeling at the corners, a few forgotten toys strewn across the floor, and a couple of mismatched cushions that have lost their shape. The wood creaks beneath us, but it feels solid, a sturdy reminder of the safety we once felt. I cling to those moments; they feel like the only normalcy left in my life.

Tonight, though, is different. After the mission where we destroyed the Kandrona, I'm restless. A chill hangs in the air, biting at my skin, seeping through the open window that frames the night sky. The adrenaline from the operation has worn off, leaving a heavy dread in its place. My mind replays the mission like an endless loop, fixating on the reckless choices I made, the way I threw myself into danger without thinking. I can still see Marco's face when he realized how close I had come to getting hurt. It gnaws at me, a dull ache that won't fade.

I know Marco has been worried about me. He always is. I can see it in his eyes every time I take a risk, every time I push the limits. But what choice do I have? If I don't take those chances, who will? I'm supposed to be strong. The team relies on me to face the danger head-on. I can't let them down.

I try not to think about the way Marco looks at me. It's the kind of look that makes my chest tighten, like he's trying to hold me together with his eyes alone. I don't want that from him, not now. Not when everything is falling apart. But somehow, I can't shake the feeling that it matters. That he matters.

As I sit there, staring out into the darkness, I hear the familiar sound of footsteps on the rickety ladder. A spark of anticipation flares up in me, but it's quickly drowned by a wave of anxiety. I don't know how I'll face him tonight. The tension between us is palpable, and I can almost feel the weight of the unspoken words hovering in the air.

When Marco finally emerges into the treehouse, his silhouette framed against the moonlight, I can't help but notice how he looks tonight—his hair slightly tousled, his eyes glinting with concern. For a fleeting moment, I find him undeniably attractive, and it catches me off guard. My heart races as he steps closer, and I immediately shake my head, willing the thought away. This isn't the time. I can't think about that now.

"Rachel," he says softly, his voice breaking through the silence. "I thought we were supposed to be keeping each other safe. You scared me today."

I bristle at his words, defensiveness rising in me like a shield. "I'm doing what I have to do. The team relies on me," I shoot back, my tone sharper than I intended. I hate that I sound like this, like I'm pushing him away, but I can't help it. "You don't understand what it's like, having to be Xena at every battle."

I can tell it hurts him by the flash in his eyes. He's the one who teases me with that nickname.

"Maybe you should let me in, then," he counters, stepping closer, the warmth of his body radiating toward me. The air crackles between us, thick with unspoken feelings. "I'm here for you, Rachel, but I can't help if you keep shutting me out."

His words stir something deep inside me, and for a second, I want to break down, tell him everything—the fears, the doubts, the weight I carry alone. But mostly... the parts of me that are starting to like the fight. The violence. The way it feels to take control, to have purpose in a world that's falling apart. It scares me—how much I've come to crave it. How much I need it now. But then I remember how hard I've fought to keep that part of myself hidden. How I've made sure no one sees those cracks in me. The walls I've built feel insurmountable.

"It's not that simple, Marco," I say, my voice quieter now. "If I don't take risks, I'm letting everyone down. I'm not just fighting for myself. I'm fighting for all of us."

He exhales sharply, frustration flashing in his eyes. "But what if you get hurt? What if you die?" His voice cracks slightly, and I feel a pang of guilt deep in my chest. "I can't just sit back and watch you put yourself in danger like that. You mean too much to us... to me."

His words hang in the air, charged with a weight I can't ignore. I look up, searching his face, and for a fleeting moment, I'm struck by how close we are. The sharp angles of his jaw, the warmth of his breath, the way his eyes lock onto mine—it's all too much, too real. My heart skips, and I try to will myself to look away, but I can't.

"I can't back down, Marco. Every time I face down a Yeerk, I know it could be the last time I see any of you. But I can't show weakness. I won't." I don't know if I'm trying to convince him or myself.

"Then don't back down from me." His voice softens, but his intensity only grows. He steps even closer, invading my personal space, and the world around us seems to fade. "You can't just push me away like this, like I don't matter."

I feel the pull between us, magnetic, undeniable. My breath hitches in my throat, caught between the anger I want to feel and something else entirely. Something softer, something that makes my chest ache.

I can't think straight anymore. The silence stretches, taut as a bowstring, and I feel like I'm on the edge of something I can't control. My heart races, and in that moment, I realize just how close we are, our faces inches apart. His eyes hold mine, and I know it's not just about the mission anymore. It's about something else. Something raw and aching.

"Do you really think I want to push you away?" I whisper, the words slipping out before I can stop them. The vulnerability in my voice surprises me, but it's too late to take it back.

His gaze softens, his face so close that I can feel the heat of his breath. For a heartbeat, we're suspended in time, the world outside the treehouse forgotten.

But just as quickly, I pull away, the instinct to flee overpowering everything else. I can't—I can't—let him in like this. Not now. Not when everything feels so fragile.

"I can't do this," I murmur, my voice barely audible, the words breaking the moment.

Without another word, I close my eyes and focus, feeling the familiar pull of transformation. My body shifts, wings stretching outward in a flash. In an instant, I am an eagle.

I burst through the open window, the night air rushing to meet me like a familiar embrace. Below me, I hear Marco's voice calling after me, strained and confused.

"Rachel! Come back! We need to talk!"

But I'm already soaring away, leaving behind the unresolved tension, the longing, and the confusion of what could have been.