Kenji and I have been staring at each other in nervous silence for the last minute. I spent the first ten minutes telling him a little about Emmaline, which was its own stressful distraction, and then Kenji helped me wash the blood off my hands and face with the few supplies we have on board. Now we’re both staring into the silence, our combined terror filling the plane.
It’s a nice plane, I think. I’m not sure. I haven’t actually had the presence of mind to look around. Or to ask him who, exactly, among us even knows how to fly a plane. But none of that will matter, of course, if Nazeera and Warner don’t get back here soon.
It won’t matter because I won’t be leaving without him.
And my thoughts must be easy to read, because suddenly Kenji frowns. “Listen,” he says, “I’m just as worried about them as you are. I don’t want to leave Nazeera behind and I sure as hell don’t want to imagine anything bad happening to her while she’s out there, but we have to get you out of here.”
“Kenji—”
“We don’t have a choice, J,” he says, cutting me off. “We have to get you out of here whether you like it or not. The Reestablishment is up to some shady shit, and you’re right in the center of it. We have to keep you safe. Right now, keeping you safe is my entire mission.”
I drop my face in my hands, and then, just as quickly, look up again. “This is all my fault, you know? I could’ve prevented this.”
“What are you talking about?”
I look him straight in the eye. “I should’ve done more research on The Reestablishment. I should’ve read up on its history—and my history within it. I should’ve learned more about the supreme commanders. I should’ve been better prepared. Hell, I should’ve demanded we search the water for Anderson’s dead body instead of just assuming he’d sunk with the ship.” I shake my head, hard. “I wasn’t ready to be supreme commander, Kenji. You knew it; Castle knew it. I put everyone’s lives in danger.”
“Hey,” he says sharply, “I never said you weren’t—”
“Only Warner ever tried to convince me I was good enough, but I don’t think I ever really believed it.”
“J, listen to me. I never said you weren’t—”
“And now he’s gone. Warner is gone. Everyone from Omega Point might be dead. Everything we built . . . everything we worked toward—” I feel myself break, snap open from the inside. “I can’t lose him, Kenji.” My voice is shaking. My hands are shaking. “I can’t— You don’t know— You don’t—”
Kenji looks at me with actual pain in his eyes. “Stop it, J. You’re breaking my heart. I can’t hear this.”
And I realize, as I swallow back the lump in my throat, how much I’d needed to have this conversation. These feelings had been building inside of me for weeks, and I’d desperately needed someone to talk to.
I needed my friend.
“I thought I’d been through some hard things,” I say, my eyes now filling with tears. “I thought I’d lived through my share of awful experiences. But this— I honestly think these have been the worst days of my life.”
Kenji’s eyes are deep. Serious. “You want to tell me about it?”
I shake my head, wiping furiously at my cheeks. “I don’t think I’ll be able to talk about any of it until I know Warner is okay.”
“I’m so sorry, J. I really am.”
I sniff, hard. “You know my name is Ella, right?”
“Right,” he says, his eyebrows pulling together. “Yeah. Ella. That’s wild.” “I like it,” I say. “I like it better than Juliette.”
“I don’t know. I think both names are nice.”
“Yeah,” I say, turning away. “But Juliette was the name Anderson picked out for me.”
“And Ella is the name you were born with,” Kenji says, shooting me a look. “I get it.”
“Yeah.”
“Listen,” he says with a sigh. “I know this has been a rough couple of weeks for you. I heard about the memory thing. I heard about lots of things. And I can’t pretend to imagine I have any idea what you must be going through right now. But you can’t blame yourself for any of this. It’s not your fault. None of it is your fault. You’ve been a pawn at the center of this conspiracy your entire life. The last month wasn’t going to change that, okay? You have to be kinder to yourself. You’ve already been through so much.”
I offer Kenji a weak smile. “I’ll try,” I say quietly. “Feeling any better now?”
“No. And thinking about leaving here without Warner—not knowing if he’ll even make it onto this plane— It’s killing me, Kenji. It’s boring a hole through my body.”
Kenji sighs, looks away. “I get it,” he says. “I do. You’re worried you won’t have a chance to make things right with him.”
I nod.
“Shit.”
“I won’t do it. I can’t do it, Kenji.”
“I understand where you’re coming from, kid, I swear. But we can’t afford to do this. If they’re not back here in five minutes, we have to go.”
“Then you’ll have to leave without me.”
“No way, not an option,” he says, getting to his feet. “I don’t want to do this any more than you do, but I know Nazeera well enough to know that she can handle herself out there, and if she’s not back yet, it’s probably because she’s waiting for a safer moment. She’ll find her way. And you have to trust that she’ll bring Warner back with her. Okay?”
“No.”
“C’mon—”
“Kenji, stop.” I get to my feet, too, anger and heartbreak colliding.
“Don’t do this,” he says, shaking his head. “Don’t force me to do something I don’t want to do. Because if I have to, I will tackle you to the floor, J, I swear—”
“You wouldn’t do that,” I say quietly. The fight leaves my body. I feel suddenly exhausted, hollowed out by heartache. “I know you wouldn’t. You wouldn’t make me leave him behind.”
“Ella?”
I turn around, a bolt of feeling leaving me breathless. Just the sound of his voice has my heart racing in a way that feels dangerous. The jarring shift from fear to joy has my head pounding, delirious with feeling. I’d been so worried, all this time, and to know now—
He’s unharmed.
His face, unmarked. His body, intact. He’s perfect and beautiful and he’s
here. I don’t know how, but he’s here. I clap my hands over my mouth.
I’m shaking my head and searching desperately for the right words but find I can’t speak. I can only stare at him as he steps forward, his eyes bright and burning.
He pulls me into his arms.
Sobs break my body, the culmination of a thousand fears and worries I hadn’t allowed myself to process. I press my face into his neck and try, but fail, to pull myself together. “I’m sorry,” I say, gasping the words, tears streaming fast down my face. “Aaron, I’m so sorry. I’m so, so sorry.”
I feel him stiffen.
He pulls away, staring at me with strange, scared eyes. “Why would you say that?” He looks around wildly, glances at Kenji, who only shakes his head. “What happened, love?” He pushes the hair out of my eyes, takes my face in his hands. “What are you sorry for?”
Nazeera pushes past us.
She nods at me, just once, before heading to the cockpit. Moments later I hear the roar of the engine, the electric sounds of equipment coming online.
I hear her voice in the speakers overhead, her crisp, certain commands filling the plane. She tells us to take our seats and get strapped in and I stare at Warner just once more, promising myself that we’ll have a chance to talk. Promising myself that I’ll make this right.
When we take off, he’s holding my hand.
We’ve been climbing higher for several minutes now, and Kenji and Nazeera were generous enough to give us some illusion of privacy. They both shot me separate but similar looks of encouragement just before they slipped off into the cockpit. It finally feels safe to keep talking.
But emotion is like a fist in my chest, hard and heavy.
There’s too much to say. Too much to discuss. I almost don’t even know where to start. I don’t know what happened to him, what he learned or what he remembers. I don’t know if he’s feeling the same things I’m feeling anymore. And all the unknowns are starting to scare me.
“What’s wrong?” he says.
He’s turned in his seat to face me. He reaches up, touches my face, and the feeling of his skin against mine is overwhelming—so powerful it leaves me breathless. Feeling shoots up my spine, sparks in my nerves.
“You’re afraid, love. Why are you afraid?”
“Do you remember me?” I whisper. I have to force myself to remain steady, to fight back the tears that refuse to die. “Do you remember me the way I remember you?”
Something changes in his expression. His eyes change, pull together in pain.
He nods.
“Because I remember you,” I say, my voice breaking on the last word. “I remember you, Aaron. I remember everything. And you have to know— You have to know how sorry I am. For the way I left things between us.” I’m crying again. “I’m sorry for everything I said. For everything I put you thr—” “Sweetheart,” he says gently, the question in his eyes resolving to a measure of understanding. “None of that matters anymore. That fight feels
like it happened in another lifetime. To different people.”
I wipe away my tears. “I know,” I say. “But being here— All of this— I thought I might never see you again. And it killed me to remember how I left things between us.”
When I look up again Warner is staring at me, his own eyes bright, shining. I watch the movement in his throat as he swallows, hard.
“Forgive me,” I whisper. “I know it all seems stupid now, but I don’t want to take anything for granted anymore. Forgive me for hurting you. Forgive me
for not trusting you. I took my pain out on you and I’m so sorry. I was selfish, and I hurt you, and I’m so sorry.”
He’s silent for so long I almost can’t bear it.
When he finally speaks, his voice is rough with emotion. “Love,” he says, “there’s nothing to forgive.”
