“Did you ever look back? Y’know, as you were leaving?” Liv had asked one night, after they had downed an entire bottle of Glow on their own. The two young women had been laying sprawled against the half-crumbled concrete roof, gazing up aimlessly at the round moon hung in the sky, the very namesake of the substance they’d indulged in. Liv had never seen the inside of Eden, a firstborn of the wastes, and she liked to ask about the city at the heart of their known world whenever she could weasel an answer out of her.
“Just once,” she’d answered, and though her response was hardly descriptive, if she had been sober, she would have never admitted to doing so.
“And? What’d you think?”
“I don’t remember,” she had returned.
At once, Liv had let out a sharp bark of a laugh. “Yeah, right. As if you could forget something as big as your own escape from Eden.”
Slouching against the wall alone, she clutched the dented flask as she took a final swig of the same clear spirit. It burned in her throat, sliding down to nestle in her gut, so hot it felt cold--the typical taste of Moonglow she’d become accustomed to over the years. She tucked the empty silver flask away, kicking off her unlaced boots as she ignored the ruckus going on in the floor below. The sun was just setting outside the grainy window, but no inn in Yehudah bothered to wait until nightfall to begin the drunken revelry, gambling, and fights. Unlike the rest of the population, however, she intended on getting as much sleep as she could before midnight, when she would be heading out to collect. The best and worst ideas always came at nighttime; that was just how it’d always been for her.
It hadn’t been any different the night she’d made up her mind, wide awake in the dark, frozen stiff as she listened to her jailer breathe beside her. Not a single ounce of hesitation had been in her heart in that moment. If anything, such a decision had been a long time coming. From the very instant she’d stepped foot into Eden, the only thing she’d ever thought about was fleeing it and somehow making it back home. Every night in that terribly white ward, hidden deep under white, white sheets, she’d promised herself she’d find a way. Survive and get out--that’d been her singular goal. For that, she’d learned to lie well enough when they ran her through those tired questionnaires, and when that day had come at the end of their time in that wretched place, she had been the first to march up, arm bared and unafraid, because she’d known there was no other way. When it came to her freedom, she’d told herself that she’d never falter, that she’d leave the wretched place behind gladly, without a single regret.
Liv had been right, of course. There wasn’t a moment of her escape she didn’t remember in clear detail, but nothing had stuck as clearly in her mind as that moment. Dawn had broken as she had been ushered away by the pair of men the Second Sons had sent for her, the morning fog slowly beginning to dissipate from the air. Every limb of hers was close to buckling, having crept and run throughout the night to reach the rendezvous point, while her mind had buzzed restlessly even as it grew numb. One had stooped to boost her up onto the great metal truck, more monstrosity than vehicle.
Hurry, they’d urged her.
We need to leave, now. Her freedom was here, just a step away, and yet that was when something in her had stopped short, and she had turned to look behind her, a traitorous part of her longing for one last glimpse of what she was leaving--of who she was leaving--and in that very instant she had never hated herself more. It’d been a stupid thing to do, of course; all she had seen was the looming shape of the walls through the thick white fog. She couldn’t have expected to see the steeple between their houses, the rooftop they’d called their own, nor would he have materialized on top of the walls with his remorseful green eyes--and yet, perhaps a part of her had hoped. Perhaps a treacherous corner of her heart had--for a brief time--thought of this false paradise as home. Perhaps he had been home.
Did you ever look back? Just once, she’d said, but that too might’ve been a lie. She had only turned to look back once in that moment, but in the many years afterward, she found herself turning, again and again--on sleepless nights, at the sound of a laugh like twanged like his, at a pair of eyes as green as his had been, even in the oddest moments. Even now, as she sat alone on the ragged mattress, staring out into the emptiness of the dingy room, the thick white fog was already starting to roll in, transporting her to a dead moment a decade prior.
Once more, she turned.
*************
It was still morning when she pulled into the quiet little strip of water next to the wreckage of a giant cargo ship--two and a half hours ahead of schedule, which was something even she could be pleased with. She let out a quiet grunt as she leapt from her motorboat to dry land, rope in hand. As she tied it off to the rusting metal pole with nimble fingers, the two young men who were posted to the loading bay came out, shielding their eyes against the morning rays. She gave them a curt nod in greeting, wasting no time in leading the effort of unloading the wooden crates that were carefully stacked and tied down underneath a layer of tarp and lugging them to the loading bay floor.
The three of them had just managed to unload everything when she heard the sound of footsteps approaching--not just one or two people, as it typical was, but more. Four? Five? “Honestly, how many of you does it take to count a simple drop?” she called as she turned to greet the group, taking out a folded piece of paper from her jacket and offering it to Cambria.
“Oh, we have no doubt it’s all there,” she immediately answered, waving the note away. Her trust wasn’t all that surprising. This was hardly her first time working with them, and out of the many smugglers operating throughout the cities and the wilds between, she was one who took pride in making sure every detail was correct. Still, the smuggler then turned to Niles, handing him the list of goods she had procured. She didn’t like to leave margins for suspicion, after all. “How ya’ been? Long time no see,” the woman continued, as if she was greeting an old friend.
“Been keeping myself busy,” she answered nonchalantly. “I expect you all have been well, too.” It’d been three months since she’d last made a drop for the Second Sons, which was fairly average for the kind of work they asked of her--typically weapons, medical supplies, and some other handful of oddities.
“Look, we got another job for you,” Niles steered the conversation, taking a meaningful step in her direction. She could always count on him to cut through social niceties--something she didn’t dislike. “Lotta units. I’m talking enough to take a few years off instead of months.”
She said nothing, only lifting a brow in response. A lot of units naturally meant a lot of danger. Not that it was something she balked at, danger--after all, that was where she made her trade. She didn’t bother working day in and day out, competing with all the smugglers scrounging about. No, she had carved out a niche and reputation for herself by doing things others wouldn’t think of, and charging accordingly. However, just from the way she was being approached, she could already tell this was going to be bigger than anything else they’d asked of her. Never before had they come to her as a posse. All the leaders of the Second Sons were gathered here, except Max. Instead, there was someone she didn’t know, partly hidden behind Dru. A new member, perhaps? Just as her gaze began to rove back towards Niles, a little gesture stopped her cold.
It was such a meaningless thing. Scratching his beard, that’s all he’d done. But that stance, that nervous shift from foot to foot as he touched his chin--well, it was familiar. No, that wasn’t the only thing familiar about him. Something lurched within her, her heart dropping like a stone into the bottom of her gut. It couldn’t be.
It couldn’t be… Niles’ voice came again, the words blurred and far away, but at that, the ghost lifted his head, meeting her gaze with those green eyes. A dream? A hallucination? No. His face wasn’t as she’d remembered it. Along with the beard, a certain rugged weariness that hadn’t ever existed in his features before had settled in. He was here, outside his precious Eden...ten years too late.
Five years ago, she would have angrily demanded what the fuck he was doing here. Eight years ago, she would have shoved him, maybe even punched him. But now, a decade since they’d last seen each other, she did neither. It was surprising what time did.
“Hey, Sparrow,” he offered, as if they’d just run into each other in the classroom.
“Hey, Sol,” she retorted, and even she was surprised at how calm she sounded, despite the tightness in her jaw. She could’ve left it there, but she couldn't help but continue, something bitterly amused buried in her tone. “Looks like you lasted longer than a day, huh?”
I wouldn’t last a day out there, he’d said, turning his gaze away from her angry tears.
He said nothing. Neither did she, though she refused to look away. The tension was thick enough to cut with a knife when Cam jumped in, trying to salvage the conversation and lead it back to its rightful track.
“Let’s go talk business. What do you say?” she cajoled, offering her a smile. There was a beat, and the young woman tore her gaze from her old friend’s, surveying the room instead.
“Alright then.”
She was silent as the group escorted her off to what she assumed was Max’s office--she hadn’t had a reason to be taken to his office after they’d moved bases. Once inside, the man offered her a curt greeting, one she returned with a simple nod of the head. Max was something of an asshole, but after she’d left the Second Sons to make her own way, it was a quality she no longer saw as only bad. After all, if he didn’t bother to be nice, it meant she didn’t have to, either.
“The job?” she prompted, to which he leant forward in his seat, steepling his fingers together.
“We need you to help us infiltrate a city to retrieve some cargo,” he explained, and she rolled her eyes. What, was he trying to explain to her what her job description was? Cagey as ever, it seemed.
“Which city, what cargo?” she tossed back.
“Eden,” he intoned, meeting her gaze intently. “The children in the Tithe Center.”
Immediately, she let out a scoffing laugh. “You must be joking,” she shook her head, crossing her arms over her chest as she shifted her weight to one side. “It’s bad enough that you presumably want me to smuggle in a whole squad of your men, but you want me to make it so you can take at least dozens of children back out with you?”
“We’ve got a plan of attack,” he continued, seeming unshaken by her dismissive attitude. “We have maps. Points of security. The works. We just need to borrow your expertise for the final step.”
“And how do you know that this information is viable?” she demanded. There was no way she was heading into such a risky operation just trusting that they had everything worked out.
“Oh, it’s viable,” Cambria chimed in with a knowing look, a hand at Sol’s shoulder, and at once she understood. So that’s what it was.
“Let me see them, then.”
“You know we can’t do that before you agree,” Max snorted. “In or out?”
“How much?” she asked.
“Two hundred thousand units.” Came the answer.
“Four,” she countered without missing a beat.
This time, it was Max and Niles who burst into laughter, long and scornful. “Do you think we’re going to make an exception for you?” Max leant back in the tattered chair, clearly believing that he had the upper hand here. “Just because you used to be one of us doesn’t mean--”
“No,
I’m the one making exceptions here,” she cut him off, her expression impassive as her voice. “You know my rules. No people. No kids.”
“You know that’s not what we’re doing here.”
“Isn’t it?” she challenged, a ghost of a mocking smile hovering above her lips. Max knew better than to get roped into that old argument again, however.
“Two hundred fifty,” he offered, his expression hard. “Take it or leave it, Ava, I’m not interested in games.”
“Mm,” she hummed airly, giving them a small shrug. “Well, you’ll have to find another smuggler to get you into Eden, then.” Leaving an unspoken ‘good luck with that,’ she turned on her heel to walk off, only to have Cambria block her way.
“Now, now,” the older woman began, her hands spread coaxingly. She was smart enough not to try and grab her by the arm--a mistake Dru had once made while trying to proposition her. “Let’s not be hasty. You must be tired, traveling all the way from Yehudah overnight. Why don’t you get some food and shuteye? The room from last time is available.”
For a moment she was silent, but at least she released a weary sigh, nodding in agreement. They wouldn’t let her go like this, she knew. Max said he didn’t like playing games, but this, this was part of the game.
“Let me show you,” Dru piped up, blind to the way both women rolled their eyes.
“I remember the way,” the smuggler said, brushing past them without sparing them another glance--especially him.
“I’ll have some grub brought to you in a bit!” Cambria’s chipper voice followed her as she walked off, soon accompanied by Niles’ hissed words of
I told you it was a bad idea to have him here. Yes, she thought.
It was. It didn’t take her long to find the spare room she had rested in once before--she’d always had a keen sense of direction, and over the years it had become one of her most useful assets. It was a simple room, of course, bare except for a thin mattress on the floor and an age-spotted mirror in the corner. She regarded her reflection in the glass, wondering if she too had changed in appearance as much as he had. It was hard to tell when it was yourself, after all. Even though she could only guess at the physical changes Sol might have noticed, she knew that on the inside, anyway, she had changed.
She had changed, so why did everything inside her still burn at the thought of him? Letting herself fall onto the mattress, she stared up at the cracks in the ceiling. Sol. Here. A defector. How long? But most importantly--why? Why now?
...Why now, and not then?
She uttered a sound, half laugh, half scoff.
God, she sounded insipid.
She wasn’t sure how long she lay there, thinking of nothing and everything. Cam had mentioned sleep, but sleep was the last thing she could think of at the moment when everything in her head was swirling and churning. Still, she immediately picked up on the presence of a person hesitating at the door. “Just come in,” she intoned matter-of-factly. “I know you’re there.”
