This would be the second time he would ride a train.
No, the third actually. It had been a long time ago, long enough to make it seem like a dream. Laura had put him on the train and driven it, taking him down the tracks for a while until they came as close as possible to the entrance to the secret base.
That didn't count, though.
It didn't count because he had been unconscious the whole time. He only woke up after he was put into the dank, dark hole that had been his prison.
The three of them were on the platform, waiting amidst a sea of people. It wasn't accurate to say the three of them. There was a fourth person, even if she wasn't really there.
Abigail, of course. You could say she was part of the team too. In his heart she was. She had done more than enough for them to be considered as such, in any case.
"I see. So that's what this is all about," Abigail said after listening to his explanation. "This is going to complicate things. I won't be able to protect you.
That was true.
But he didn't have the power to change the academy's decisions, and besides, it made sense. The conflict was escalating and it was only a matter of time before a full scale war broke out again.
Therefore, this sort of boot camp made sense, as much as he didn't like it.
Things could change incredibly in a very short time.
This was what he had been waiting for since day one, wasn't it?
Away with useless subjects like history or math. Away with anything superfluous to a soldier's development. In boot camp, they would undoubtedly put theory aside to focus on practice.
As many hours as possible. Maybe from sun up to sun down, even.
The moment he had been waiting for. A chance to shine and grow.
Two months ago, it wouldn't have occurred to him that he would ever have cause to protest something like this. But a lot could change even in a day. And, anyway, it wasn't the camp itself that bothered him, though he wasn't particularly looking forward to it either. The thorn in his side was the very thing Abigail was complaining about.
"I know you'll be surrounded by capable people and I know you can handle yourself," Abigail continued. "But both of those things were true before and look what happened last time. No, I'm not comfortable. I'm not going to sit still."
"What do you suggest?" Desmond asked, looking at Christina as he did so.
As he had said, they were surrounded by people. In one sense, it wasn't so risky now when there were only a handful of students on the platform waiting with them. But in another sense, the risk was greater than ever because the pairs of ears that could hear this conversation had increased a hundredfold.
So he had to do things like this for show.
He didn't mind being taken for a crackpot.
Hell, he was, he wasn't going to deny reality.
But he wasn't going to take the chance that someone wouldn't take his talking to nothing as a symptom of insanity.
That would put not only himself at risk, but Christina and Amy as well. For everyone's sake, he couldn't afford to be careless.
"It's too early to suggest anything," Christina said carefully, after a while, looking as if trying to find the woman who, among the team, she was the only one who couldn't see her right now. "We don't know the details".
She wasn't answering him without knowing she was talking to Abigail, though. Christina was helping him on purpose. It wasn't a perfect system, but they had tested it several times and it was better than nothing. The hard part was coming up with a coherent response that would work for both conversations.
He could have informed Abigail of what was going to happen ahead of time. Three days in advance, to be more exact. He wouldn't have had to mess around with things like this. However, since Abigail only appeared before his eyes when she could, when she had a moment, here they were.
He couldn't blame the woman for that.
After all, she was always on the run, but now on top of that she had to run from the authorities. Wanted for the murder of one of the richest and most influential men in the kingdom. No wonder she hadn't stopped for three consecutive days.
The world was neatly divided into two halves.
One of those halves wanted her dead.
In ancient times, there were supposedly countries, not kingdoms. That is, the world was completely divided. Each went its own way, rather than being ruled by the will of the same monarch.
In truth, he found it hard to think that such a way of life could have worked. It seemed like an invitation to chaos. The perfect vessel for disaster. But, if it was true, then Abigail had lived in those times when the two kingdoms had not existed. When the world had been separated not into two, but into thousands of parts.
He imagined that one could escape from their enemies by fleeing to another country. And that Abigail had done so many times in the two thousand years of her life. But nowadays things were not as theoretically simple as in the past.
In Albion, they wanted her behind bars or on a laboratory table.
Dissecting her to discover the secret of her immortality.
As for the other side of the world, as far as Desmond knew she wasn't being prosecuted for any crime there.
But both kingdoms wanted the same thing from her. Wanted what made her special. Different. They wanted to rise above death.
Wherever she went, she had nowhere to run.... She didn't fit in anywhere. That was no way to live. Thinking about it always made him want to burst into tears of grief and rage.
In those two thousand years, he was sure that Abigail had saved many people. From danger to death and, what was more important and terrible, from their own minds. As she had done with him. Giving him a purpose, a weapon against the world.
She had gone about blessing the helpless, those who needed blessings the most. But never, not once, had she ever been rewarded. In fact, the only reward she dreamed of was death.
No. That wasn't true. Desmond had promised her that someday soon they would live a life together before he passed on the curse he wanted to be rid of. He had promised her that they would be happy together.
Abigail wanted to die because she wasn't alive.
But she longed for life, didn't she?
He was clinging to her as tightly as he had in the weeks and months after the massacre that had reduced all his previous life to ashes and rubble.
Clinging to a dream. To the dream of happiness. To the dream of living again.
Yes. What Abigail sought was not death, but life.
So...
"It's impossible for you to pretend to be sick or something so you can stay at the academy. Besides, it wouldn't fix anything, sooner or later we would face the same dilemma again. So I'll go."
"How?"
Christina looked at him out of the corner of her eye.
"Didn't you hear me right? "It wasn't a very natural answer. Not because of the content itself, but rather how she had said it. But he didn't think anyone would notice something like that. And if they did notice, they wouldn't think much of it.
It just seemed like such a giveaway to him, who was in the thick of it and scared shitless of being found out.
"You heard me," Abigail said. "I'll follow where you're going. I'll keep an eye out in case anything happens, without letting anyone see me. With any luck."
"I said we can't do anything. Not at the moment. Prepare mentally, at best. Because we don't know anything."
Amy was actually a better choice for things like this, since she could listen to Abigail and formulate the answer knowing both sides of the conversation.
However, Desmond had turned to Christina first instinctively.
Now it would look odd that they would suddenly change course, and besides, it wasn't like Christina was doing poorly.
On the contrary. She was good at choosing her words without knowing what the other part she had to help cover up was saying.
"Yeah, yeah. You're right, but... I don't know. I'm just worried."
He wasn't so bad himself, all things considered.
"It's risky, no doubt," Abigail said, "but riskier still would be to leave you alone. It's not something I can allow."
"I hear you," he and Christina replied at the same time, and Desmond felt like laughing, but he restrained himself.
Not that there was a need to hold back, but he did it anyway as if it was instinctive. Well. It was. For some reason it was. It happened often enough that he had to admit it, yes.
Not that he never got carried away and laughed openly and sincerely.
Far from it.
But he often held back, and the thought of it was making him uncomfortable.
"I'm fine with that. Be careful," he added the latter even though it didn't fit in with the conversation with Christina, since it wasn't a big risk. It was just two words.
Abigail nodded. And disappeared.
Amy yawned, stretching.
"I think we came here too soon."
Desmond shrugged.
"I did, anyway, I never sleep too well. But you guys could have stayed in bed a little longer."
"I know. I'm not blaming you. It's just that it's getting tiresome. How much longer?"
Christina pulled out a pocket watch, opened it with one hand to look at the now. She'd bought it recently. Less than a week, he thought. He never paid much attention to the passage of time, and when he bothered to look, it always caught him by surprise.
Yeah. He wasn't the kind of person who would go around with a watch. He wasn't that... conscientious.
"A quarter of an hour, give or take. But who knows how long it'll take in the end?"
"Yes," Desmond said. "I' m hoping it'll be sooner rather than later. To get it over with."
They were surrounded by many people. By the freshmen and sophomores, who were the only ones who were going on this little field trip.
They weren't all here yet, he was pretty sure, but quite a few.
And the three of them weren't the only ones talking, of course. The noise was constant. Voices here and there, mingling. Getting lost.
It was a bit annoying to talk among so many people. Raising your voice to make yourself heard, sometimes repeating yourself or asking one of them to repeat what they had said because you hadn't heard it right.
All those inconveniences, discomforts.In truth, it was so noisy that he didn't know how he heard his own thoughts.
And... It wasn't that big a deal, really. He had to stop overreacting.
"Get it over with? "Christina asked, and Desmond thought he'd have to repeat himself, but then she explained, "So you're not too happy about boot camp, then? I thought it would be more the other way around."
"Yeah, that. Combat classes are pretty much the only thing that makes your school days bearable, aren't they?"
"And you're both right. But... you know... And there's also the question of the train."
"The train?"
"Don't sound so surprised, Christina. It's a metal death trap. If I could avoid getting in there, I would."
"I see."
"Wow, I didn't expect you to have such a childish fear," Amy said after suffering a serious bout of sincerity.
Desmond grimaced.
He wanted to respond decisively to deny that, but knew he couldn't.
For she was absolutely right.
It was a fear that was more than childish, completely stupid. Considering what it was... the blessing Abigail had bestowed upon him, even if there was an accident he would most likely survive it. One way or another.
Even Abigail hadn't been able to confirm to him whether his power had a limit or not, so he couldn't be sure.
However, Desmond didn't see why not. He had come back to life after far worse things than a train wreck.
"Don't take it the wrong way, please. I didn't mean it that way."
"Oh, so there's a good way to take it? I didn't know that," he shot back at her , looking away.
Which was, he knew, an extremely childish act.
Proving that she was right about him, after all. But he couldn't help himself.
"Well, it's just weird... with how strong you are all the time. I'm sorry."
"You should have known better by now. I was doing the gun thing when we met for that very reason."
"The what? Say that again."
"You know... "He made the gesture, as if pointing an invisible gun at his head. He wagged his index finger and said, "Bam. That."
"Wait, what are you talking about? "Christina asked, looking at them alternately.
"I hadn't thought of that," Amy admitted. "Anyway, I know it was wrong on me, but you didn't have to react like either, right?"
Desmond deflated.
"I was, you know, trying to joke. And hoping you'd get it. No need to worry. I'm not offended."
"Liar," Christina said.
Yes, I am, but why do you have to say it?
"She 's right. She's right, isn't he?"
Desmond sighed.
"Yes, she 's right. But it's my fault and not yours. For acting like a child. You have nothing to worry about, I repeat."
"That's a relief."
There was silence.
"By the way... "Christina started, after a while, but was cut off. Not by himself and not by Amy either.
It was one of the teachers who did it. He had been present on the night of the incident with the fake Avery, with Laura. The night they had lost Matthew, leaving two teachers.
His position had been replaced, but there were still two.
He wondered if they had been close and concluded that was a silly question. As three of the only men among the faculty, not counting Jacob since he was the headmaster and didn't act as a teacher under any circumstances, they would have become close almost out of obligation.
He wondered how they both felt, now. Both this one, Ben, and the other one named...named...?
Daniel? No, sort of, but... David. Yeah, that!
He was getting better at remembering names.
The train doors opened. All right.
"Go through, one by one, in order. Each of you in your class and in your team, as arranged on this card. Follow the seating order. "
They went through, received the card in question, one for each team. This felt a bit like they were being treated like little children. Troublesome and difficult to handle.
Even if that was the case, it wasn't worth complaining about.
They slipped inside, half walking, half being pulled along by the crowd flowing towards the doors.
They found their carriage and took their assigned seats.
That even the seats were assigned and could not be changed seemed a bit much to him. But then again, he wouldn't complain.
The infernal machine was set in motion.
It rattled down the tracks toward its destination. Only not exactly.
Only that they would have to take another train once this one reached the end of its journey, in order to get to the place where the boot camp would take place.
A two way trip even just for going. He preferred not to think about it, as even this first trip would take forever. It already felt like a long time, even though it had only just begun.
And now that it was a carriage full of people, he wasn't so comfortable with the idea of pulling out his gun and going through the same old routine to relax.
Not that he gave a shit what people thought of him, but he'd rather his school life wasn't full of unnecessary headaches.
"What were you saying before?" Amy asked.
Desmond spent too long thinking about what she might be referring to before he realized she wasn't even talking to him, but to Christina.
He glanced sideways at her. Amy was sitting next to him, and Christina in front of her.
They were a group of three, so the last seat, the one to Christina's left, was empty.
It was far from the only empty seat on this train.
Many had fallen, but not all had been replaced. Enthusiasm for serving the motherland, predictably, had dropped considerably after that hellish slaughter.
"Oh, yes." She had a funny look on her face. Desmond frowned, looking at her silently. "I was about to ask about the gun thing. Before we were interrupted."
That was it?
Ah, yes, Christina didn't know about his sick little habit. The two times she'd been caught in the middle of it had been Amy who had done it. He hadn't realized that until now.
"There's not much to talk about, really," Desmond said. "I have... a trick so that my gun only fires when I want it to. And, well, years ago, I got into the habit of... putting it to my temple and... and shooting without shooting. You know."
When Amy asked him to explain on the train, at their first meeting, Desmond told her all this in a matter of fact way as if he didn't see any problem with it.
Because he hadn't. But now it seemed strange to him, indeed.
Now it seemed to him that it would have been best if he had kept his mouth shut. Too late for that, of course.
"Desmond...something like that.... "said Christina, choking on her words. "You..."
Desmond didn't speak.
He didn't even dare to ask her what was weighing on her. He was hypnotized by those violent eyes that penetrated him and he couldn't do anything else than to pull back, to shrink in on himself.
He had to swallow saliva as if he had a piece of cement stuck in his throat.
He had an idea of what he was going to say.
"Do you think about it? "Christina said, "About shooting yourself for real, someday?"
Her question stole his breath.
He didn't want to hear that.
He didn't want to hear any of that, but especially not now, on a crowded train. Right now he couldn't think of a worse time or place to have a conversation about something like that.
"No," he protested weakly, intimidated by the intensity in her words and in her gaze, "I know it sounds silly. No, it's definitely silly. But I would never, not once...."
Christina rose suddenly from her seat.
Leaning forward like a tiger about to pounce after its prey, Christina grabbed him by the collar of his shirt, pulling him toward her.
That would draw attention.
There was no way it wouldn't attract attention, and sure enough, it did.
Christina looked around for a moment. But she didn't desist. What she did was lower her voice, whispering something close. Not in his ear, but close.
"Did you forget that you can't lie to me?"
"I..."
Desmond slid the barrel of the gun into his mouth. The gun was, of course, loaded. Albeit with only one bullet. A single bullet was more than enough to end his life, if he didn't use the physical reinforcement spell.
Now, all he had to do was pull the trigger.
One squeeze and it would all be over.
Suddenly. Violently.
Just like that, as if nothing had... meant anything. But at least it will be over.
That had to count for something. That would be so easy
(I want wings)
so, so easy it was scary.
He saw
(his own face in the reflection of a puddle of dirty water)
a woman clad in the sun.
I saw flaming ruins
(and a sand castle, hahahahahah, building on the sand)
and also saw a smile.
The gun fell between his trembling hands. Desmond stared at the gun on the ground. His mind blank, but his mind silently working on the fatal decision.
Weighing the risks, considering the possibilities.
With an eye to the past and the future.
Desmond swallowed.
There was the taste of metal in his mouth. And it was only an illusion, but he had the feeling that there was blood in his mouth, that he could taste it, thick as it was.
He left the gun where it was.
"I told you don't lie to me. Don't you dare," she whispered, but with more assurance than a scream could express. Her eyes were locked on his. I know, you...
"You have...
Desmond placed a hand on hers. Without looking away from her piercing violet eyes.
"You're right. I almost did once," he said slowly. Every word was a struggle with himself. But it was only once. Now, I wouldn't even think about... that.
She looked at him for a long time, silently.
As if searching for something in the depths of his heart that even he didn't know. After a time that took forever, she nodded her head.
Then she released him and returned to her seat. Her expression had changed.
He couldn't say how exactly, only that... she seemed more... relaxed?
No. Confident.
That was it.
"Thank you," she said, her voice cracking. "I wouldn't know what to do if you...
She didn't manage to finish the sentence, though.
She choked on her own words and covered her face with one hand. As if she was going to burst into tears.
It was nice that she cared so much about him. Of course, Desmond would do the same for Christina.
However, that she was reacting with such intensity?
It wasn't what you'd call strange, considering they were talking about such an... intense subject. But could it have anything to do with that?
With the secret Christina had revealed to him, meaning that she was being affected by his emotions?
He couldn't say it was nonsense.
He was feeling bad before as it was, but he had also been reminded of that moment when he had been this close to pulling the trigger with the gun in his mouth, a memory he had wanted to bury deep in the darkness of his mind, never to be dug up again.
It was more than possible.
It was...
Christina, with her free hand, was holding the book tightly to her chest.
Previously, he had thought it was a book of spells, and that was the first conclusion anyone would have drawn.
However, it was much more than that.
It was a bulwark to defend her own identity. The only thing that couldn't be taken away from any human being. That it should not be possible...
Yes, that was the case. His raw emotions were getting to her. That was partly why Christina was about to burst into tears.
And what could he do?
He couldn't just... stop feeling the way he felt. It didn't work that way.
Desmond decided to cut the crap. He got up from his seat to give her a hug. Not caring about the stares and the comments. Not caring about anything but her.
And Christina clung to him like she was clinging to a life raft when she was lost in the middle of a raging sea.
Yes. The emotions of others were like waves to her.
They hit her with the force of waves.
The hammer of the waters, he thought, squeezing her tighter, stroking her back. The hammer of the waters.
For some reason, that idea was going round and round in her head, over and over again. As if it had some kind of importance.
Desmond ignored it. He couldn't just stop feeling what he was feeling, of course.
This anxiety in the center of his chest, stuck like a thorn, and the bad taste as if he'd thrown up, he couldn't change any of it.
But he could focus on Christina. On Christina's feelings, and forget everything else.
She was the one who mattered now.
Now and always, he was the least of it, what really mattered were the people around him now. That happiness.
She didn't need to worry.
As long as he didn't lose them all, he would have no reason to think again about... aiming and pulling the trigger.
"I'm sorry," said Christina. For some reason, after she calmed down, that was the first thing she said.
She had nothing to apologize for.
Well, this public spectacle sure wouldn't do them any favors. As a person and as a team. But what would have been really worrying, what she really had to apologize for, would have been not saying anything the whole way on the train simply to avoid attracting attention.
Christina had acted like a teammate and, more importantly, a friend.
He liked to think that he had acted accordingly.
Though he certainly could have done much more.
"You have nothing to apologize for," Amy said, before he even had time to open his mouth. " If anyone should apologize, it would be me. Since I already knew that. I've known for a long time and I haven't said anything. Even though I also... I had my doubts, you know. I didn't say anything because I didn't dare. Because I... Because I wanted to believe that everything was fine, at first, that this was just what I had dreamed of all my life and there was no problem. And then I let go of it and... And... I'm sorry."
Christina had tears in her eyes.
It seemed very possible that Amy would break down at any moment, the speed with which she spoke and the pain in her voice.
Desmond didn't know.
But if this kept up, he was sure he would.
He'd been through too many emotions already, too intense, and this wasn't even the beginning of the journey. It was the prelude. The journey would begin when the training camp did.
"None of you need to apologize," Desmond said, leaning back in his seat, his arms hanging limp, his hands thrown in his lap. He looked like a deflated doll. " That's true. Of course, acting like that would worry you, but I didn't even think about it, not because I didn't care. Of course not! It just didn't occur to me. I could have ended this before it had even started. I should have."
There was silence.
Which was broken by Christina laughing, of all things. But no.
She wasn't just laughing.
As she laughed, a few tears rolled down her cheeks.
"Oh, what a bunch we are. Everyone is struggling to blame themselves. A match made in heaven, yes," she added with a soft smile. "A match made in heaven. All hopeless. I love you guys."
They finished the first leg of the journey and boarded the second train, which would take them directly to their real destination. The place where the training camp would take place.
Christina fell asleep on the way. Too much excitement, she supposed.
Or at least tonight she'd slept as badly as he usually did. Even though he'd slept... he had no idea, but probably not much more than five hours, Desmond wasn't getting sleepy.
Quite the contrary.
He felt wide awake and aware of his surroundings.
Like he was tense, waiting for something to happen. As if he was always waiting for something to happen.
To pass the time, he had been watching the landscape become a blur passing by the window until he felt like throwing up.
Then he had mainly been looking around and talking to them.
Now, he simply stared at Christina as she slept. With the book pressed firmly against her chest.
If she lost it, and if she didn't manage to replace it in time, everything would be over for her in a way so horrible Desmond couldn't even imagine. Even though she would not die.
Of course, when she was asleep, she held it tighter and tighter, as if it were a safety net.
If he were her, she would never let go of it, let alone let it out of her sight.
The three of them slept together every night.
So it wasn't that he'd watch her sleep like some kind of creepy stalker, but it wasn't uncommon for him to see her like this. Or Amy. So that wasn't what this was about.
That wasn't why he was staring at her so hard now, when he could have done it any other time if he wanted to so badly.
He had a lot to think about.
Some things about himself, but mostly about his partner, of course.
About her concern.
About her... identity issues.
And about what they'd talked about. Desmond had been assuring her that he didn't want to die, that there would never be a repeat of that day.
Now he still was.
That wasn't him. He had been driven to the precipice of despair by the darkness in his heart, but he had managed to crawl away from that precipice and into the dawn.
He had managed to recover himself and he was not going to lose himself on that path again.
That wasn't the point.
The words wouldn't come into his head.
Desmond lifted his hand, moving it, opening and closing it as if he could easily find what he was looking for.
Just grabbing it. Snatching it out of the air.
And he didn't find it, not exactly, but... But...
She wasn't well.
Neither was he, of course, he was even worse.
And Amy had her problems too.
Three very different people, who had taken different paths in life, meeting at the same point.
Common sense would say that this could never have worked.
But it didn't. Not really.
They worked.
Oh, what a bunch we are. Everyone is struggling to blame themselves. A match made in heaven, yes. A match made in heaven. All hopeless. I love you guys.
They didn't work, but they worked.
None of them were complete and their loose pieces shouldn't fit, but they fit.
They fit and everything...
Desmond rubbed his eyes with the back of one hand.
Everything would be all right.
Slowly, Desmond drifted off to sleep. The rattling of the train, which he had more than once likened to an infernal engine or a death trap, didn't stop him.
Christina's steady breathing and the sound of her heartbeat, as well as Amy beside him, lulled him to sleep, and he fell asleep at last.
The train was on its way.
To wherever it was taking them.