Vo'ke

Eleven

 Scarlett spent the rest of the evening tossing and turning in my arms, and I received no gifts of sleep. My eyes burned as I drove back to the cabin, only to discover everyone had packed up to leave. Scarlett's grandfather had been driven up to meet us by Raymond, who refused to leave his truck.

We had no proof the Rugaru had been killed except our word, so we were to leave quietly and without ceremony. Atian offered his thanks and gratitude, his eyes steady on me. He and Scarlett deeply understood the transformation I was undergoing, the agonizing metamorphosis from skeptic to believer. My heart was restless and my mind never settled, and I couldn't see straight. Shadows and hues took over my vision that I knew weren't really there and exhaustion settled in so heavily that I couldn't help the crew load their things into the truck. It was Zayn who took the wheel to drive us to the airfield where the same small plane we'd arrived on waited for us.

Scarlett and I said nothing as we stood shoulder to shoulder, watching the others work and talk amongst themselves. I was no stranger to alienation, but this was a level that transcended all else. Only Scarlett, her hand steady at my wrist, understood.

"What will you do now?" I finally asked, breaking the silence between us. Her dark eyes focused on the wing of the plane, blood-shot and glazed like my own. Her skin was losing its color and she hadn't been eating. Neither of us were the picture of health, physical or otherwise. I wondered if all survivors looked this way.

"I'll take care of my grandfather, like I did before. And I'll take care of Niabi, like Henry would want me to."

"Who will take care of you?"

She turned to me then, her cracked lips parted. A breeze picked up, lifting tangled strands of her hair as her gaze met mine. She reached up to pull at a chain around my neck, a relic I wore without ceremony. A reminder of a time before.

Her fingers brushed against my skin softly as she lifted the necklace away, and I let her pull it over my head. Something in my expression must have given her the go-ahead to put it on, and the cross tucked itself away beneath her shirt.

"We're very similar in some ways," she remarked. "The pain will always be there, but very seldom will we acknowledge it."

It wasn't the answer I was looking for, but I wasn't sure quite what that was, either. Regardless, the rest of the team were strapped in and avoiding their gazes from the two of us, the only ones left on the airfield. She pressed her hand to the place above my heart, then lifted up on her toes to meet her lips with mine.

It was soft and careful and tentative. It was a surface kiss, and neither of us were stable enough to delve deeper. Already, I ached for her. She was in my arms, and I missed her with a ferocity I'd never known.

Always strong, she was the first to pull away. I didn't open my eyes until my back was turned to her, preferring the feeling of her warmth and resilience to the sight of her so wrecked. In the coming months, it was the core of her that I would keep close, not the outer shell of a woman changing just as radically as I.

–

In typical English fashion, it was raining when we landed at Heathrow on a commercial flight. The streetlights were on, though it was still early. The clouds were dark enough to warrant them, and I swayed on my feet, trying to keep count of how many there really were as opposed to the doubles I was seeing. I didn't feel the rain, soaking through my clothes as I stood on the curb watching everyone filter into a van the university had sent to pick us up. I entered last and slid the door shut behind me, ignoring how the driver frowned at the water soaking into the leather seats. Something in my expression must've said I wasn't one to be messed with.