I let the question hang in the air between us as though it were a bomb, ready to explode, and all it would take is the lightest touch from me to set it off. I didn’t look at him, but took a few steps back to where I knew the cot was, and I lowered myself down on it. “I don’t know,” I said, more out of reflex than truth. I was stalling, unsure of what to say or how to say it.
“That’s it?” He shook his head and started to shut the door.
“Wait,” I said, quiet. “Because there’s no future for us.” I looked up at him and saw eyes filled with pain. “None. With me, you’d always live half a life, and you didn’t have the guts to pull the trigger, so I did.”
“Oh, you’re so noble,” he said, words dripping with sarcasm. “Thank you for thinking of me when you did that. When you started to sleep with the other guy, were you thinking of me then, too?”
“Yes,” I said. “I was thinking of you then. I was wishing it was you.”
The little head of steam, of righteous indignation, I could see building in him just deflated. His wounded look crumpled into something else, his face fell, the anger gone. “Why did you do it?”
“I don’t know,” I answered honestly. “I was a little drunk. Not too gone, but just…there. And he touched me, and I realized I could touch, and I just…” I shook my head. “I just did. It was stupid, and it was reckless, and it was unlike everything I knew I should do, and I did it anyway. Because I wanted to.” I blinked at him. “Because I couldn’t with you.” I didn’t put an ounce of blame into the last bit, just let it ooze with regret and pain, and I saw him take another step back, stare at me from the door for another minute without saying anything, until he finally closed it. The clunking noise it made as the lock slid back into place was the last noise I heard for several hours afterward.
The look on his face stayed with me long, long after that.
Chapter 17
The lights stayed on, even when I lay for a while on my cot, staring up at the ceiling, composed of (what else?) squares of ceiling tile. They were one-foot segments, I figured out at last, ten in a row on each side, a hundred in total, and for some reason that number appealed to me, and I found it oddly comforting. I counted the walls and realized they were in the same configuration, then looked at the floor and realized that though the tile there was different than the steel walls, it was the same size. I was surrounded by six hundred equal-sized squares, six hundred little squares that made up the big cube that I was in.
One big box.
I spent a little time examining the watch that I still had in my pocket. I didn’t know if it was a mark of trust that they hadn’t bothered to search me, or if they were just that lax in their security. I had no idea if it was set to the proper time, but I watched the second hand tick away, the finest entertainment I had with me. No one burst into the room and took it from me, and I was sure they were watching, so I chalked it up to them not caring I had it.
When the door opened again, the noise of the lock sliding cued me to look for it. I didn’t bother getting up, though. I hadn’t eaten yet today, which was a mark in nobody’s favor, but I hadn’t asked, either. I was a little thirsty, but again, I hadn’t asked for anything to drink because it hadn’t gotten urgent yet. Frankly, this was nothing. I had plenty of space to move, if I wanted to. I didn’t want to.
The door opened and Ariadne came in with a tray, cafeteria food resting on it. I saw meatloaf, which I hate, but I was past the point of being picky. I stared at Ariadne when she came in; she stared back at me. “I brought you lunch,” she said at last, reluctant. Her heels clicked on the tile like a hammer hitting concrete, each step at odds with her manner, which was mousy and hesitant.
“I didn’t know we’d moved past breakfast yet, since I didn’t get any.”
“I’m sorry,” she said, and brought the tray over to me, extending it with one hand. It was light, I could tell, a styofoam plate on a brown tray, with a little plastic spork and a couple cartons of milk, like I was a kid. The meatloaf itself had some red ketchup on it, the only point of color on the tray, and it reminded me of my hands after my fight with the vampires. Or after Andromeda died.
“I asked Zack if you were going to ship me to Arizona,” I said, breaking the spork out of the little plastic bag that it was sealed in. I balanced the tray on my knees and Ariadne stood above me as I took my first bite, taking care to get plenty of ketchup to cover the taste of the meatloaf itself.
“No,” she said. “I wouldn’t even be holding you like this if not for the fact that finding the bug in your room is the last in a long line of circumstantial evidence—”
“My circumstances suck.” I took another bite and chewed as I thought about that.
“But it could all be wild coincidence,” she said, as she lowered herself to sit next to me. She didn’t look at me as she did so, and I cast her a sidelong glance that it was probably better she didn’t catch full-on. “I’m aware that nothing we’ve got is really proof; not the kind I’d like before accusing a long-standing trainee of betraying us—”
“Why?” I said with a shrug. “I think it’s obvious at this point that my mother is playing some sort of game here. If she was willing to keep me locked in a house for over a decade, is it really out of the realm of possibility that she’d try and stick me undercover here for six months to pull off whatever it is she’s up to?” I shrugged, balancing the tray. “I don’t think that’s farfetched.”
Ariadne looked over at me. “I don’t think it’s out of the realm of possibility for her. I think it would be completely out of character for you.”
I froze, spork halfway to my mouth, and just held it there. I didn’t want to look at her. I forced the bite into my mouth and chewed it slowly, swallowing it with extreme difficulty. “What are you going to do with me?”
She seemed to crumple under forces that were not visible to the eye. “I don’t know. Wait for the Director to return from Texas and make the decision for me.”
I could have made some crack about the pressure of leadership on her, or how she might not be up to it, but I couldn’t think of one, and I didn’t really want to anyway. “I don’t want to be in here anymore,” I said, and meant it. I sat the tray on the ground and looked at the walls, and the room seemed smaller than ten by ten by ten now, much smaller.
“I know,” she said.
“Know, but don’t care?” My voice was shot through with more than a little ‘don’t care’ as well.
“I wouldn’t say that.” She leaned forward, placed her hands on her knees and then stood up. “I’ve got J.J. in a cell, too, which isn’t making me feel any better. And Kurt.”
My eyebrow spiked in a raise. “Kurt?”
She cocked her head. “They left him alive when they ambushed you; that’s more than a little suspicious since they tried to kill the rest of you. I’d put your friend Reed in a cell too, but I can’t really afford to alienate Alpha since they seem to be the only allies we’ve got.”
Words broke through the wall around my head. “Why do you have J.J. in a cell?”
“Because he, you, Reed, Parks and the pilots were the only ones that knew about Reed’s little excursion home to call his bosses,” she said, looking down at me, her shock of red hair the only color in the room.
“But I thought your office was bugged,” I said with a shake of my head. Wasn’t that the reason I was here?
“It appeared to be,” she said. “But my office gets swept regularly for listening devices, and this one just happened to be there right after our conversation. It could have been placed by any number of people, but the timing is just strange. The last sweep of my office was at midday. I have a list of appointments during that time, a half-dozen people, and Mormont is interviewing every one of them, too.” She shrugged. “I’m following Mormont’s recommendations on this until the Director has a chance to weigh in. It’s clear that the chopper flight was betrayed to Omega to give them a chance to shoot it down and kill Reed, cutting off our only line of communication to Alpha.”