Light in Dark Places

Chapter Forty-Three

In the morning, Clemente Hernandez takes Joan to see Agatha Jaine.

"What's going to happen to her now?" Joan asks. She can't help but remember everything Jude said—Do you think things can get better just because you will it? Wake up, Princess. Even if, and that's a huge if, even if you could somehow 'save' her from Mathiessen, then what? Are you going to make sure she's fed and safe and has somewhere to live? Or are you just going to be satisfied you did something without following it through?

And he's right, of course he's right. She interfered with this girl's life; self-righteously took her out of a bad situation (or at least, enabled that to happen) but it's not like she's in a better one. She has no home, no money, no one to care for her.

Joan thinks, I am such an immense fool.

"She is in military custody now," Hernandez says, in that same clipped, abrupt way that he always speaks in. She's no longer certain that he is angry at her.

My little sister.

"We will provide her with on-campus housing and enroll her into the academy for now. That way she will at least be guaranteed a place to stay and dining options."

She is relieved even as she feels tremendous amounts of guilt. Someone will take care of her; someone who is not Joan. Joan, in fact, did very little for this girl at all, but has perhaps condemned everyone in Sahuaro to a much worse evil because of the very little she has done. She feels almost nauseous with self-loathing.

"Can I talk to her?" Joan asks.

"It is why I brought you here," Hernandez says. He motions for Joan to walk inside the room, but his posture reveals no indication that he plans to go inside himself.

Joan takes a deep breath and steps forward.

*

The girl sits up at her bed, staring down at her hands.

She seems so incredibly fragile—Joan is almost overwhelmed by how injured she looks. The numerous bruises and cuts accented by the incredible frailty of her body all create the impression that she is not so much a person as an open wound.

"Hi," Joan says, wondering if she sounds as awkward as she feels. "Umm. We umm. We met once, er. You probably don't even remember me—"

The girl suddenly buries her face in her hands. Her shoulders start to shake and the most horrible sound escapes. Joan takes a step back, prepared to flee before she causes more damage.

"I remember you."

*

It was such a simple phrase, I remember you, but it quieted Joan's anxiety and inner torment in facing this girl.

"I'm just—I'm," Joan stops, because she wants to apologize. But on the other hand, she is not exactly sure what in particular she did wrong to this girl, although she's sure there must be something.

"You saved me," she blurts out instead. "That night—when the red god attacked. Thank you."

Agatha grips her bedsheets. "You saved me."

"Not, not really," Joan mumbles. "That was mostly Hernandez. I mean, the Thunder King. He's the one who arranged everything. I'm sorry, I don't know why I'm here—"

She turns to run away because the already awkward situation is now unbearable, and she just wants to hide in her bed and never come out again.

"It's OK," Agatha reaches out, as if to stop Joan from leaving, but then winces, making Joan feel even worse. She probably shouldn't be moving at all. "Please don't go. I'm sorry, this has all been sort of strange to me, so I'm— a little off."