Perak’s gaze went to the windows, to the ominous orange flicker that said everything that needed to be said. Storad in Top of the World, more at the gates, more in the tunnels too, probably, mining, cracking. We had men, we had everyone now, fighting for us. But against those machines, with Storad in place up high, perfectly placed to rain down death on anyone and everything…
This was a chance. A chance to put everything right, make a fresh start, do it properly this time. It was the only chance we had and he knew it.
Perak went and opened the door.
I shuffled over, not wanting to look inside, at the machine that I’d last seen with Pasha’s body on it. I didn’t want to die. I still don’t. I had no choice, not really, not if I didn’t want to drink myself to death over what-ifs. I wished I’d taken the time to ask Lise if she’d fixed the machine.
Erlat helped me, and I leaned on her. Funny, I’d always admired Jake because she fought back against all that happened to her, fought with everything she had until this last, when it had become too much. She’d refused to stay broken. But up there, in Top of the World, when I’d seen the world clearly, like glass, I’d realised.
I admired her, thought I loved her, because I’d thought she was strong. Then I’d seen, at Erlat’s, that perhaps I thought I loved her because she was safe, because Pasha was always there so I wouldn’t have to try, and get it wrong in my usual style. Now there was no Pasha, the illusion crumbled.
When I fall for a woman, I always fall hard. But this time, I hadn’t realised I’d fallen. Not until now, when there was piss all I could do about it. At least that meant I wouldn’t do my usual sort of screw-it-up. No, I was going to do a different sort of screw-it-up.
“Rojan, are you sure?” Her voice. Erlat’s, soft and smoky, no teasing now but still pushing the black away for me, letting my mind back.
I fell into the chair attached to the demented machine that was going to save everyone. Had to keep my breath for the words that mattered, so I only nodded.
Funny how she always knew the right things to say and do. She held my hand, and I gripped it tight enough I probably almost broke her fingers. She didn’t flinch. Strong inside and out. I hoped so, because she was going to have to be. Strong enough for us both.
Enough breath for a few words. Not many. “Perak, first Top of World. Next lot, gates. You’ll have to sort the tunnels, I’m not sure I can manage that too.”
“Twice? You want to use this twice?”
Again, only a nod. Last few words. Make them count. “Erlat.” She looked at me, her face dim in the faint light, but I saw. She’d tried to hide behind teasing, behind making me blush, and I’d hidden behind Jake, behind thinking I loved her. Out of fear. But right then there was no hiding. There was no fear, or not of that at least. I was out in the open, not even any scathing words to hide behind. It was just me, and her. Use the right words. Don’t screw it up. “You ruined me for other women.”
Just for once, because the world is a contrary and fucked-up place, the words were the right ones. But her sudden, radiant smile was twisted, and when she kissed me – Always save the best till last. And it was, my last kiss, my best kiss even if I was covered in blood and had no breath left. It was the kiss that meant the most, out of all the kisses, and there have been a multitude. But none like that, never like that, because I meant that one with everything I had. Finally, when it was too late, I’d figured it out. Typical.
“Come back,” she said at last, one hand smoothing my hair back from my sweating forehead. I lied even without breath when I nodded. She knew it too, I was pretty sure, because with a last look she turned and ran. Not fast enough that I didn’t see the tears, and they pained me more than anything, more than my stupid buggered hand, more than that machine was going to.
So, at the last of it, it was Perak and me. Brothers to the end. He’d dropped me in it, again, but that was all right. I’d done plenty of dropping myself. If I’ve learned one thing, it’s that responsibility is something you have whether you like it or not. There’s no running, only movement that makes you think you’re escaping. And when you’ve fucked up, you have to take the consequences.
Perak held the syringe in shaking hands. “I can’t.”
“Have to.” And then, because he was my little brother and I loved him, “It’s all right. It’ll be all right. I’ll take care of it, I promise. Just a quick trip into the black then back again, right as rain.”