Galilee Rising(68)

"What?"

"You. Jem Finch. You're a lot alike. Smart, brave, protective, does the right thing no matter the personal cost." I notice him staring at me, and I turn to face him. "What? I had high school English too. I've read it."

"That's not…I…" He glances away, the visible flesh on his face turning red. "Never mind."

"You really can't take a compliment, can you?"

"Not one that's so undeserved, no." His thin mouth sets straight. "I am nothing like Jem Finch. He…protected his sibling. He was the strong one. When we were growing up it was Jordan who fought for me, for us both.

"When we were nine," Nightingale continues, "Dr. Ramone, Father's lead researcher, was testing our healing capabilities. Normally Jordan volunteered to go first, but he was angry at me for not wanting to go swimming with him earlier. Anyway, Dr. Ramone…strapped me down on the examination table and began his incisions. Shallow at first, down my arm, and then…into the muscle. I managed not to scream until he hit bone."

"Jesus Christ."

"When Jordan heard my cries for him, my brother rushed in, barreling at the doctor. Broke his arm and knocked the man out. We escaped to our secret spot, the tree house we built near the lake. They found us later that night. Father was livid, even threatened to 'end the experiment.' He grabbed my still tender arm, and that's when Jordan attacked him with the scalpel he'd stolen. Father received stitches, and Jordan received a week locked in the lab being forced sedatives and reprogramming techniques. Basically, they tortured him for seven days and nights. When he returned to me, he was different. Angrier. And still after all he endured, he volunteered to be first every time after that. He was the brave one. And it destroyed his soul."

I don't say anything for a few seconds because I can't think of a damn thing to say. I've never been much of a hugger, but an overwhelming desire to embrace him must be fought. I'm afraid if I touch him he'll freak and run away. Instead, I don't even look at him. I stare straight ahead. "You know…for such a smart guy, you can be dumber than a sack of hammers. It's a damn good thing you're cute."

"Excuse me?"

"I was twelve when my Pop died, and I was convinced for years I had some part in it. If I hadn't insisted on us leaving my mother, if I hadn't needed new shoes, blah blah blah then he wouldn't have been driving that cab and wouldn't have gotten shot. It made me angry, furious at the world but especially at myself, and I wasn't born little miss Zen to begin with," I chuckle. "But with time, and a lot of help from Justin, I came to realize I'd spent years being a fucking idiot. Blaming myself was just a way for me to control a situation that I had no control over. All I could control was my reaction. I worked hard to stop hating myself, at least for that. Of course then I did other things to hate myself for but…" I chuckle again. I glance over at him but can't tell much with the mask. I look away. "My point is you didn't create this monster. In fact I think you're the only thing keeping him from going nuclear. Literally. You and I both know your brother was born a sociopath. It was just a freak thing. A genetic mutation. He doesn't kill people because you didn't stand up to Dr. Mengele when you were a child, he does it because he has a mental disorder. A crossed wire. You couldn't have done a whole hell of a lot from stopping him down his path anymore than I could have stopped the man who shot my Pop at twelve years old. You have to let go of this misplaced guilt because you're drowning in it. And until you do, you will never have control of your own life. You'll never be able to stop him right here, right now. You'll just be alone with your pain. And then he wins."

I shake my head. "I don't know about you, but I'm not okay with that. He doesn't get to win. He doesn't get to travel the world, doing whatever he damn well pleases while you're back here flogging yourself for his sins. Unless that's what you want. Hell, maybe you're happy in misery. Some are. My mother was. If that's the case, then you must be like a pig in shit right now. Alone, pushing people who care about you away, suffocating in guilt and leaving no room in your life for anything or anyone else. Good times." I turn to him, catching those gorgeous blue eyes. "So, are you? Happy?"

We stare at one another for a second, my impassive eyes challenging his hooded ones. I know I'm victorious when he says, "I know what you're doing."

"Is it working?" I ask with a smirk.

"Yes."

"Good." And I lean across, my lips finding his before the spell breaks. His stiffen at first as I'm sure warning bells chime in his mind, but I don't pull away. I'll win this war no matter how many dirty tricks I have to pull. But this battle lasts all of three seconds before he accepts defeat, moving his lips against mine tentatively at first then with the ferocity of a man lost in a desert who tastes water for the first time in days. I thought he'd be shy, tentative, but as usual with him I'm in for a delicious surprise. His tongue pushes past my barrier, finding mine to dance their dance. The only time he withdraws is to nibble on my lower lip. His fingers dig into my back, drawing me in even closer.