The sun has barely started to rise when we get back to the base. Our hearts are still pounding, our bodies still thrumming with the adrenaline from the night's events. I can feel it in every step I take, in every breath. It's like I'm still on that wall, still facing off against Eric. I don't think I'll ever forget that moment, that look in his eyes.
We're not the only ones returning. The other teams are trickling in, their faces grim, their bodies tense. We gather in the common area, a sense of relief mixed with apprehension hanging in the air. We did it. We hit them hard, hit them where it hurts. But at what cost?
Leo was the one to return with Kael. He's in bad shape. Really bad. Lena is already working on him, her hands moving quickly, efficiently. But I can see the worry in her eyes, the fear. She doesn't know if he'll make it. And that... that terrifies me. I can't lose anyone else. I can't.
Kael is in better shape, but still injured. He's sitting on a cot, his leg bandaged, his face pale. But he's alive. He's alive, and that's what matters. He gives me a weak smile when I approach, and I can't help but smile back, relief flooding through me.
"We did it." He says, his voice rough, strained. "We hit them hard."
"Yeah." I agree, my throat tight. "We did."
I look around the room, at the faces of my friends, my comrades. Jess is sitting by the door, her arms crossed, her expression unreadable. Arden is talking to Mikhail, their voices low, urgent. Maren is fiddling with her tablet, her brow furrowed in concentration. And Alistair... Alistair is watching me, his eyes never leaving mine.
I feel... numb. Detached. Like I'm watching this all from a distance, like it's not really happening to me. Like I'm not really here. But I am. I'm here, and I have to face it, have to deal with it.
I push away from the wall I'd been leaning on, my legs unsteady beneath me. I need to sit down, to rest. But before I can take a step, the room spins, the darkness creeping in at the edges of my vision. I stagger, my hand reaching out for something, anything to steady me.
There isn't anything. The wall, the bed, everything is just out of reach, and my legs give out all at once. I hear someone shout my name, but it's distant, muffled. Then there are arms around me, catching me, holding me up. Alistair. It has to be. I can feel his warmth, his strength, his presence.
"Sarah." His voice is urgent, concerned. "Sarah, what's wrong?"
"I'm fine." I manage to say, my voice barely a whisper. "Just... just dizzy."
"Like hell you are." He mutters, and then I'm being lifted, my body cradled against his chest. I want to protest, to tell him I can walk, but I can't find the energy. I just... I just close my eyes, letting the darkness take me.
When I open them again, I'm in my room, the familiar sight of the ceiling above me. Alistair is still there, sitting on the edge of the bed, his hand on my forehead. He looks relieved when he sees me awake, a small smile tugging at his lips.
"Hey." He says, his voice soft. "How do you feel?"
"Tired." I admit, my voice still weak. "And... and shaky."
He nods, his expression serious. "Yeah. Adrenaline crash. It happens." He pauses, then adds, "The infirmary was full, so... I brought you here. Lena said you just need rest."
I nod, understanding. It makes sense. And... I'm glad. I don't want to be in the infirmary, don't want to be around the others right now. I just... I want to be here, with him.
"Alistair..." I start, then stop, my throat tightening. I don't know how to say it, how to put it into words. But I have to. He deserves to know.
He squeezes my hand, his eyes searching mine. "What is it, Sarah?"
I take a deep breath, forcing myself to continue. "I saw him. Eric. He was there, at the hangar." My voice breaks on his name, the pain raw, fresh. "He... he didn't know me, Alistair. He didn't... he wasn't there. It was like he was gone, like they'd taken him and left a shell behind." I can feel the tears welling up, the grief threatening to overwhelm me. "He was... so close. I could almost reach out and touch him. But he wasn't there. He wasn't... he wasn't Eric anymore."
Alistair's expression hardens, his jaw tightening. "I'm sorry, Sarah." He says, his voice rough with emotion. "I... I know how that feels. To see someone you love like that..." He trails off, his eyes distant, his thoughts clearly elsewhere. I know he's thinking about his sister, about the last time he saw her. It's a pain we share, a loss that binds us together.
I reach out, my hand finding his. "He... he didn't shoot me." I whisper, the words barely audible. "He could have. He had me, right there. I. I froze. I couldn't shoot him. I couldn't and he... he was right there. Aiming at me." My hand tightens on his, my body trembling. "But he didn't. He just... he looked at me, and I - I think-"
"Sarah..." Alistair shakes his head. "They don't... when it happens they don't..." He grits his teeth. "They don't feel anything. They don't know anything. If he-"
"I think he did!" I don't mean to scream. It's not like I'm angry at Alistair. I...
It's just. That pressure that's been building up inside me. The secret. What I've been telling myself I somehow... misunderstood. But now, standing here, with him... it all just breaks out.
"I think he did, Alistair! He just- he..." I choke on the words. They're still hot tears, burning my cheeks. "When... when Ivan died. He... Eric... he looked at me and his eyes- his face! He...!"
"Sarah, what are you saying...? He looked at you how...?"
"There were... he was crying." My voice cracks. "He was crying, Alistair. Back then. His gun. He pointed that gun at me, and his expression was so- so..." My throat hurts and I can't stop the sob. "He...had that blank expression, just like this time. But that time...his yes. Were... in agony. And I..."
I swallow and look dowwn.
I can't look at him. I can't dare because... I'm afraid. Because I don't know what it means. The man who murdered Ivan and Sinead, who caused us so much suffering. He spared me, so what does that say about me...?
Am I... also responsible? What if I am also guilty...? What if they think I am? What will I do if they-?
I swallow.
"In his eyes, I could see it. Alistair. he was begging me... pleading for me to run. And... I did." I look up at him, wary, scared of what I'll see. "He. Let me go. He let me go twice." My voice is shaking and I don't know why. "What does that mean?"
I don't know what I want him to say. I don't even know if I should tell him. I don't... I don't even know what it means to me. Is it just because I'm looking for something, anything to make me feel less guilty about loving him? Something that proves that he loved me back and he wasn't a monster?
"It is..." The voice who speaks comes from behind me. It isn't Alistair. It's Mikhail, standing by the door with a bottle of something. "Not easy to say." He walks over and places it on the desk. "The boy, I think..." He pauses, as if trying to find the right word. "Was not a traitor."
I stare at him. I don't know what to say. I don't even know what he means. But...
I believe him. I don't know why. It's just... the way he says it. The certainty in his voice. As if he really understands what's happened. The conflicting behavior and emotions. That... the thing I've been afraid to face all this time might be...
That Eric...
My chest heaves, and within the suddenness of a heartbreak, something inside breaks. My hands fly to my face and I double over, sobbing. I don't even realize it until I'm crying, until the tears are pouring down my cheeks, the sobs wracking my body.
Mikhail's hand is on my back, a comforting weight. Alistair is there too, his arms around me, his voice murmuring words I can't quite make out. But I don't care. I just... I let it out. All the grief, all the pain, all the guilt. I let it out, and for the first time in a long time, it feels... it feels good.
At some point, thin arms wrap around me. I can't see through my tears, but I know it's Hestia.
And that...
Makes me weep even more.
Because I...
I'm crying for the one that I can't hold. The one that I can never touch again. My best friend. Who I...
I... think...
I think that I loved him.
And I'll never be able to tell him.