Grimspace

Doc shrugs. “She seems to think determination and mental strength should make up for that. They don’t know I’m here. March was supposed to ask you back, perhaps two weeks ago. He said you refused.”

That hurts. As long as I had known him, March never lied. And yet he’s learned how in order to avoid seeing me.

“He never came,” I say quietly.

“I didn’t want to believe what the others said, Sirantha. Now that you know, I can’t imagine you’ll let her do it.”

“I won’t.” My heart sinks as I say it. But like Gehenna itself, these past weeks have been nothing but an illusion. I can’t hide here. I can’t live a quiet, simple life. “Of course I won’t. Just let me get my things.”

Dina has lost so much. She imagines there’s no reason not to take the risk. She might even see it as a way to get back to Edaine. The people we love and lose never return to us, though, no matter how many shades we chase. And March…March would do anything to keep his word to Mair, no matter what the cost.

As I brush by him, Doc touches my shoulder. “You may not want to admit it, but you are a vital piece of the puzzle. No one has been the same since you went away.”

I know there are probably other difficulties, mounting docking fee costs. Obstacles I haven’t even considered. As in my dream, March sits on the edge of his bunk, night after night, trying to find a way to succeed, trying to find a way out.

“It’s not that I don’t want to admit it,” I tell him, weary beyond belief. “But I’ve spent my whole life doing as I’m told. This was the first time I ever did what I wanted. But it turns out I’m not allowed, so I’ll live and die on someone else’s agenda. Burn out jumping, no matter what I want.”

“Oh…” His expression tells me he hates putting me in this position but not enough to leave. And it’s probably best that I go. It would kill me if anything happened to Adele because of me. “If it makes any difference, I don’t think you can burn out.”

I pause in stuffing my belongings into my bag. “What are you talking about?”

“I didn’t want to say anything until I was sure. But I’ve compared your before and after images to other case studies, quite extensively over the past weeks.” He shakes his head. “Sorry, I am getting ahead of myself. In your first scan, I detected brain lesions consistent with AGSS. That test indicated burnout was inevitable and quite soon. Your next jump should have been your last. Instead, you came out, slept for three days, and when I took the next reading, all lesions had disappeared. Your brain looks as if you never jumped in your life, a student straight out of the academy.”

The duffel slips from my hand. “How is that even possible?”

“I don’t know.” Doc shakes his head. “It’s something to do with the L-gene I isolated, but that’s…not a human trait.”

“You’re saying I’m—”

“I’m saying you apparently don’t need to worry about burnout.”

I feel numb as we head out of my glastique flat, like I don’t know what’s true anymore. Doc takes my bag from my nerveless fingers, and I tuck my favorite lamp beneath my arm. Although it’s late, I tap on Adele’s door, declining its offer to let me in.

She answers soon after, groggy but not alarmed, and her eyes go immediately to the man behind me. I glance at him, and it’s like he’s been hit by lightning. They simply stare at one another until I feel superfluous and clear my throat.

“I’m leaving,” I say without explanation or apology. “I’m sorry I can’t stay until you find a replacement for me at Hidden Rue.”

Her eyes are so gentle. “It’s all right, child. I knew your fate didn’t rest with me. Call it a fuel stop for the soul, hm?”

Yes, that’s exactly what it was. I hug her, then murmur, “This is my friend, Saul Solaith. Most people just call him Doc, though.” To him, I add, “This is Adele.”

She smiles with unearthly sweetness. “I’ll be seeing you again, I think.”

I don’t know whether she’s talking to him or me. It doesn’t matter, really. We go then, down many flights of stairs and into Gehenna night, which looks the same as Gehenna dawn or Gehenna dusk. I think maybe I’m ready to go. Doc doesn’t speak during our return to the spaceport.

As I walk up the ramp to the Folly, I glance back once and see my shadow.

CHAPTER 41

I’m unpacking when the door to my quarters slides open.

They’ve erased all trace of my presence here; the room-bot doesn’t even recognize me any longer. So I have no personal control over my environment at the moment although I have propped my fringed lamp up at the end of my bunk. Without turning, I know that it’s March standing behind me.

“You were going to let Dina die before asking me for help?” Attack is the best alternative here. “And then you lied about it? Asshole.”

I face him then, but it’s a casual movement, born of stowing my now-empty bag into the bottom of the storage closet where I’ve hung my clothes. Though I manage not to react, I’m shaken by how haggard he looks. He’s visibly thinner, lean jaw unshaven, and there’s a terrible darkness in his eyes that has nothing to do with their hue.

“Yeah,” he says with a flicker of his old bite. “And that’s so much worse than abandoning people who depend on you.”

You know, I’ve never been in this position before. Never had to remember who I used to be and try to become that woman again. Who was I before I walked away? I remember it hurt me to say farewell to this man. I bled when he left me sitting in Molino’s, his accusations etched in acid, eating at me from the inside out. And now those feelings return as I wriggle back into her soul.

My soul. A thing I didn’t believe in until I spent time with Adele. Oh Mary, I’m so broken. Never realized how fragmented I’ve become until this moment. I’m a mirror where someone sunk his fist, a thousand tiny images refracted from that fissure, and none of them complete.

“I couldn’t make you understand then,” I say softly. “And I can’t now. I hoped you could find someone else. I don’t see myself as irreplaceable.”

He steps fully into my room, and the door swishes shut behind him. “You think jumpers grow on trees? Why do you think we settled for you in the first place?”

That sends a stab of fresh pain through me, but I don’t let it show. Maybe he can feel it. I don’t know anymore. “I thought it was tied to Doc’s research.”

“Trust you to be literal.” March glances around my quarters, which seem smaller with him standing there. He flexes the fingers of his left hand; that’s a new nervous habit. “Yeah, it had to be you. But if you’re just going to run away again—”

“No, I’ll see it through.” Like I have a choice. I’m bound here, and I don’t know why I didn’t see it sooner. “March, I’m sorry for what I said about your sister.”

His intake of breath sounds so loud. “She wasn’t why I stopped piloting.”

“I know. I was mad, so I put two and two together to make twelve.” Hesitate for a moment, then add, “And I wanted to hurt you.”

“You did.”

The words lie between us like a gauntlet. I don’t know what he means, so I choose the coward’s course. Apropos, I think. “I’m sorry.”

He shrugs. “It’s nothing new.”

“What—”

“You think it didn’t cut me every time you thought of him?” His jaw clenches. “You think I didn’t bleed when you left my bed to scrub away my touch and deify his memory? You think it didn’t hurt when you left me? Jax, you’ve been slicing me to bits for months, and there’s damn near nothing left.”

“March…” But he’s not interested in whatever I might say.

He shakes his head. “I’m not letting you do that to me anymore. It’s going to be different this time.”

I know what’s coming, and I’m not going to let him say it, not when I’m just starting to figure things out. “I didn’t think about him when I went away.” I step closer and his whole body tenses, although whether in anticipation of pain or pleasure, I couldn’t say. “I dreamed of you.”

I can’t believe I told him that. But the moment thrums with such stark honesty that I can’t offer him less. I never knew I had the power to hurt him, only that he possessed the power to hurt me.

His ridiculously long-lashed eyes search mine, as if for some sign I’m going to turn this into a cruel joke, but I hold his look, letting him see the truth. Funny how I can tell when he’s reading me now; it’s a little prickle on the back of my neck.

“You mean it,” he says, after a moment.

“Yeah.” That same candor compels me to add, “I wouldn’t have done anything about it, though. I wouldn’t have come back.”

“I know.” He smiles then. “We’re great ones for burning bridges, you and I. Slamming doors hard enough that we’re not tempted to knock on them again.”

“That sounds about right.”

March touches my hair, tentative, as if he thinks one wrong move will frighten me away. I close my eyes and draw a deep breath at the feel of his fingers on the nape of my neck. When I don’t recoil, he pulls me close, and I wrap my arms around his waist, running my hands up his back. He’s so thin I can count his ribs with my fingertips.

Oh Mary, I missed this. He feels…right, just as he did on Lachion. I remember how he drove away the bad dreams, even then. I remember how his arms always felt like they could protect me from anything, but maybe I was afraid because I never accept that from anyone. I never admit I might need it.

“Tell me this isn’t what you were running from.” Lacing our fingers together, he flattens my palm over his heart. “I can’t compete with a ghost, though. I won’t even try. So if you want me to let go, just say so and—”

I shake my head. “I don’t know, it may have been part of it, but I…laid him to rest somewhere on Gehenna.”

March tips my face up, studying my features intently for a moment, then he swings me up in his arms, and I realize I haven’t even asked about his recovery. He must be all right, though, because he carries me over to the bunk and settles with me in his lap. I feel him running his hands up and down my back, stroking my thick, coarse hair. I expect…more I suppose, but he doesn’t even kiss me.

“No,” he says, shaking his head. “That was too soon, and I paid for it. Probably should’ve just let you sleep with Hon. I just—”

“Couldn’t stand to see someone else touching your woman?”

He exhales into my hair, and I shift enough to glimpse his sheepish expression. “I know. Big cliché, right?”

I find myself reassuring him. “A certain amount of territoriality between mates is natural. I know we’re supposed to be enlightened, but some things just don’t breed out.”