ROGER (Read Until 7/31)

F O U R T E E N

A hand rested on my shoulder in an attempt to keep me still. I was made to stand straight and still, to fall back into Matthews' chest, and in one swoop, he lifted me in his arms. It wasn't until I found myself laid on a warm bed that I realized Matthews hadn't made me fall back against him. I fainted.

The world spun and slipped out from under my feet. Roger's voice was more like the wind outside than a voice within my head, and though I heard him, I couldn't listen. No one listened to the winds, because no one wanted to know a storm was approaching.

Except me.

I'd asked him to tell me; demanded he'd say the truth. I was the only person who stood in front of a storm and insisted it'd tell me its oncoming blitz; only, I didn't expect the storm to be tranquil, like a somber rain that did nothing but wet soil.

Would it have been easier to take it in if he'd been a hurricane? Or was it because his words simply watered a garden visible to everyone else but me that made it hard? I wouldn't know, because I'd asked for it all before I even had the chance to understand it. There was no going back now.

I wasn't sure how long I'd been out, but I knew I spent well over an hour in bed. My mind ran away with thoughts and ideas, and my heart tried to keep up. The feeling made me sick, woozy, and I'd covered my face to hide myself from the world.

It was just like me to run away and hide.

There was a point where Roger's voice sounded in my head and he tried to talk to me, but I'd allowed myself to slip so far into my feelings, he couldn't get through. Again, for me, it was just a soft, gentle wind, blowing against my windows. The blankets around me were my blinds, the ones I kept closed. Yet, when the wind stopped knocking, and the echoes stopped, my selfish thoughts were replaced with guilt.

I'd made the whole situation about me, instead of him; instead of everyone else. Who was I to sit in bed and hide, when out there in the halls of the Domes were people who fought to save everyone else? Roger fought to save the world, foregoing himself.

What was it he had said before?

He believed in self-sacrifice. I needed a page out of his book.

I needed to change.

♦

From the conference room, conversations echoed like whispers I wasn't meant to hear. But I did; I heard them. My name was said twice, and Roger's name quickly followed. Standing in the hallway, I felt like a fly on the wall.

"Clara?"

I'd almost forgotten about the watch on my wrist. Its gentle light flashed out the corner of my eye. Glancing down at the glass screen, I smiled at Roger's concerned face. He had every right to look like that.

"How are you?" he asked.

Taking one small step back, I leaned against the wall. "Shouldn't I be asking you that?"

"No." He shook his head. "This isn't about me."

"But it is," I said quietly, glancing back at the room. The conversation calmed for a moment and someone slid past the room, like a shadow against the light.

"This is bigger than just me, Clara."

"How big?" I lifted my watch to look into his eyes, but he'd closed them. And smiled. I hadn't realized that I missed his genuine smile. It sent my heart a flutter, as well as the butterflies inside my belly. Their wings flapped against his gentle, blowing wind. My storm. "How big is it, Roger?"

"Douglas and I are going to brief everyone on the task ahead, but we'll fill you in on everything you need to know. And anything you want to hear. So, if you're up to it and ready..."