Every Missing Piece

Chapter Twenty-Two

As it turned out, we weren't able to leave immediately. There were too many preparations to be made, too much planning regarding how we would reach the wall undetected, too many minute details to disagree on before we could embark. Mercy has since withdrawn into the ranks of her trusted Desperates, only relying on them to advise her. The last time I'd seen her, I'd made the mistake of offering up my own ideas for the mission, only to see her slowly shake her head in response.

"I appreciate it, Carra," she'd said, "but this mission has been years in the making. Trust me, I know what to do."

Since then, I've stayed apart from the Desperates, not seeing the point of attempting to become one of them when I'd be leaving again in only a matter of days. I close my eyes and try not to let the separation get to me, not just from the Desperates, but from my family and everything else I've come to know in Gotten. The stillness is stifling.

I lean my head against the wall, the coolness of the rock that comes from being underground pressing into my cheek. Maybe I'll just stay here, unmoving, until it's time to leave the Desperates altogether. Almost immediately, a voice calls me back to the present.

"Carra!"

Reluctantly, I open my eyes and look around. I spot a figure limping towards me, unsteady like he's relying on a pair of invisible crutches. Even in the dimness of the room, even with a layer of bandages, there's a gleam in his eyes, a flash in his smile. The ever-shining golden boy.

Jack.

I fight the urge to run away or at least bury my head in my arms while my shame makes me blind to the world. I should be thrilled to see him making a recovery, I should, and I know that my overenthusiastic heart is trembling at his arrival. But the rest of me is selfish and broken and forever ashamed, and seeing Jack is simply another bitter reminder of what I can never be to him. That boy will be the end of me.

"Hi," he says, and he slides down next to me before I can protest. For a minute, he's silent as he takes in everything that the Desperates have managed to hide beneath our city. As for me, I keep my eyes anywhere, anywhere at all but focused on him.

"It's incredible," he says at last, gesturing to the lives in motion around us. "All this time, I never knew...how long have you been down here, anyway?"

I pause to think about it, and I realize I don't know. The boundary between day and night has become indistinguishable, and I'm not enough in tune with the Desperates' routine to recognize when another day has passed. Without an answer, I simply shrug.

"Not that it really matters," he continues, pushing on past my silence. "We're going to be here for long enough, so it might be depressing if we start keeping track."

He doesn't know, I realize. Jack has no idea that any day now, things could be completely different, that I may be gone...

That I may never come back.

It is here, in this selfish moment, that I decide I will never tell him. He can find out when I've left, without me coaxing a goodbye from amidst things that could never happen. If I were him, I wouldn't miss me at all.

It is better this way, I tell myself.

But every ounce of courage, every resolution I make with no intention of keeping, isn't enough for me to be able to ignore Jack's eyes on me. I can feel him quietly watching me, and like always, I don't know what to say.

"It doesn't have to be like this," he says.

"Like what?"

"Like...this," he repeats, now frustrated. "You, not looking at me. Me, not knowing how to fix this. Look, about what you said earlier...I know I didn't respond well, and I'm sorry. Okay, Carra? I'm sorry. I was just surprised and then—"