Am I seeing through Abigail's eyes?
Desmond wasn't even sure if it was real. But at least he was hallucinating that that was what was happening. The body he felt as his own was, unmistakably, that of a woman. A body wrapped in Abigail's signature white outfit.
There was no precedent for something like this.
Abigail had never even hinted that such a thing could be done.
But... Too many things were happening lately for which there was no precedent, as far as he knew. So he could accept that this was really happening.
One way or another, he should waste no time.
He should act on the assumption that this was real, that this was happening, even if it was not. Because he needed to rescue her. Because maybe he would never have a chance like this again.
He looked around.
He examined the surroundings, the faces around him. Looking for anything. A clue, no matter how small.
This was just any old compound. A secret base to conduct their experiments. That much was obvious, but maybe he could find out where it was, even so. If he recognized a person in the crowd around him, that would also serve as a clue.
Someone from the Empire or someone from his own kingdom. Apparently there was no shortage of traitors.
He needed something, anything.
But if there was anything in this room, his eyes found nothing.
"Her brain activity had become unusual."
Desmond turned his head toward the voice. A man in a white coat. He'd never seen him before in his life.
There was nothing on him or near him that even resembled a clue, so it didn't matter.
Something. I needed something. Anything.
Desmond had no idea how long this was going to last. He needed to seize every second of this miracle, of this opportunity granted by his willpower. And by his powerful feelings for Abigail. He couldn't waste this opportunity.
He realized that he wasn't just looking through Abigail's eyes, but that he could move her head freely as if it was his own body. He mentally apologized to his savior, for a violation of that level. No one should have to experience such a loss of control.
Control, your own will,, was often the only true thing a person had.
To have it taken away from Abigail, even if only momentarily, albeit with good intentions, made him feel like the worst piece of trash ever. Like a worm crawling on the ground.
But...
At the same time, he hoped she understood his good intentions. Would understand that he had left her no choice.
He couldn't let her rot here. At the mercy of these monsters. Anything was better than letting her carry that weight alone.
Abigail had saved him. Time and time again she had saved him, even in the ten years she had been away from him. In those years, her memory was what had kept him alive. He would like to save Abigail, if only once.
He'd like to prove to her that she hadn't been wrong about him, that the life she' d rescued had some value.
Rather, he didn't want the only value she saw in him to be death.
I'm sorry.
I'm sorry, but I'm not going to stop.
"What does that mean?" a woman asked.
She wasn't dressed in a white coat. She looked more like a office lady than a scientist.
"Ma'am, it's... It's like there are two people in that body. I've never seen anything like that before."
But she was clearly the boss here. Unfortunately, he didn't know who she was.
He wished for a traitor. He wished there was a traitor to Albion in this crowd. Someone known, so he could point his own in the right direction. Or not even that.
A name. The name of a random person in Albion.
Even if it wasn't something definitive, he needed at least a starting point. If nothing else, dammit!
"I see."
The boss approached her (them) on her heels. Relaxedly, as if there was no danger. Abigail's wrists were bound in shackles. Her feet too, and she was elevated just enough so that her feet didn't touch the ground.
That's why she could afford to act as if she wasn't in front of the most dangerous person in the whole world.
Someday she'll be free, and then we'll see if you're lucky. We'll see how far you'll be able to run in those heels.
He felt anger carve his face. Abigail's face, that is. He didn't know why it surprised him. After all, he had been moving it at his whim until now.
But it surprised him all the same. For some reason he was strangely taken aback by it.
A body that wasn't his. That reacted to his emotions, but didn't move like his body would. For everything was different.
The strange thing, he supposed, would be not to be weirded out.
The office lady stood in front of him (her). She looked him (her) straight in the eye.
Have you ever had to get your hands dirty, he (she) thought with all the disgust he (she) could muster. No, I'm sure you haven't.
"You're Desmond Orosco. Right?"
"Where am I?"
He answered her question with another question. And she, with a laugh.
She laughed, turning away. Irritating. Her mocking expression, especially.
I wish I could put my hands around your neck, bitch!
" Yes, I imagine you'd like to know. And I'd like to tell you, and for you to come here so I can add you to the collection. " She turned around. Because we know the witch won't break. "Whatever we do to her, we cannot bend her will. You, however, are another story. Her hope. For you, she would do anything."
"If that's what you want, it's very simple. Speak. Where are you?"
Abigail was remaining silent. She was saying nothing, neither with her mind nor with her mouth. Did that mean she had changed her mind about what she wanted him to do? No, best not to jump to conclusions.
And, anyway, it didn't matter. He was doing this ignoring what she wanted.
That had no relevance, in other words.
"If I told you, you wouldn't come alone. You wouldn't be so foolish. So I'm afraid you'll have to be left wanting to know."
"Of course I'd go alone. I can't risk those in my kingdom getting their hands on her, either. I have to protect her from everyone."
The boss in this place kept looking into his eyes as if searching for something. Searching for the truth, he supposed.
"I'm afraid I don't trust you," she said at last.
"Just because I'm coming alone, you don't have to relax. On the contrary. You can't stop me. You cannot stop me from finding you and killing every last one of you. I will not leave a single one of you!"
The woman narrowed her eyes, smiling as if she knew something he did not.
"I know enough about you to take that threat seriously."
"Good," Desmond spat.
"I'll see you soon, then." With her hand to her heart, she gave a little bow. "Mocking him completely. And fate will decide who will come out on top."
"Time is on my side. Once is enough for me. No matter how many times you kill me, I'll still get up. Whereas once is enough for me to win."
"The same applies to this witch. And yet, killing her once was enough to capture her."
"You said it. Capture her. You're only capable of delaying the inevitable... You're a bunch of animals! And you'll die like animals! I swear it!"
That cry made the world explode. Like a mirror, everything fell apart and was replaced by something that had nothing to do with it. Something is wrong.
Wrong?
No.
He was back where he should be. White walls, which seemed to glow like the ceiling light. Blindingly.
In the midst of that whiteness, two waving black silhouettes. He was waving too.
No, he was shaking. Maybe he'd been shaking since the beginning of this. From head to toe, as if something had hit him.
The light cleared, revealing Christina and Amy.
Of course. Now he remembered. The hospital...
Abigail had contacted him, and then... Then... Then... This. Tremors, and a vision of something happening far away from him. What Abigail's eyes were seeing.
"Thank goodness," Amy said. What a scare you gave us.
"Yes," Christina sighed, "Let's not let it happen again.
Desmond nodded, as if it were in his control. It had happened just like that. If he had done anything, it had been unconscious. He hadn't even known until now that that was possible.
So that could happen again.
In fact, he wished it could happen again. He hadn't seen enough. Rather, he hadn't seen anything. Absolutely nothing, damn it!
And even if Desmond went back again, he wouldn't see anything.
Even if Desmond managed it somehow. That was because Abigail was already trapped. He would see nothing but...
Things he' d rather not think about.
"What happened to you? "Christina asked. You don't have epilepsy or something, do you?
Desmond shook his head. No, it wasn't that.
"I saw..." He swallowed.
"What? What did you see?
Desmond stood up, going from lying down to sitting up. He explained.
Abigail was released.
She felt Desmond's presence leave her. She relaxed, her shoulders and head dropping as if she had been bearing a great weight all this time and the release was almost worse, giving her body permission to collapse.
This...
This was new.
But not worrisome at all.
Quite the contrary, in fact. It was further proof, as if she needed one, that Desmond was the person she had been waiting for all this time.
The person who would free her from this cycle of eternal suffering.
She didn't know that was possible in the first place. That the connection with the people she made a contract with could become so deep. In two thousand years, nothing like that had ever happened to her.
Yet Desmond had done it.
Desmond had surpassed a barrier that no one in two thousand years had managed to surpass.
The last barrier, namely that of her death...
He would also be the person to break down that barrier. She was now more certain than ever of that.
So, bound hand and foot, hanging a few feet above the ground like a lamb in a slaughterhouse, Abigail smiled. It was a sharp smile. It was a smile tantamount to a proclamation of victory.
"I see," Christina said when he finished. " With you it's one surprise after another."
"You don't say."
"So you believe me?"
"As if you'd lie to us," Amy said. " Well, I'm not saying you don't have secrets. Everybody's got some secrets. But you won't lie about something like this, anyway."
"That's true. You have no reason to lie in this case. The real question is whether what you've experienced is real or a hallucination."
He had thought about that too, of course. Judging by the fact that Abigail remained silent, instead of showing concern for him like the others, it had really happened. All of it.
And "it" was what had caused her to remain silent.
"But I have no problem believing it. I mean, you said her heart beats in your chest. From there to that, well, it doesn't take much of a leap of imagination. It seems more like the natural result."
"Well, yes. Seen that way, yes. But that's not the point. We should get going."
Desmond made to get up.
And he did, though not without effort; he was still unsteady, a little disoriented by what had happened.
He got to his feet and soon after stumbled, falling forward.
He would have hit the ground had they not acted quickly, catching him, each grabbing a shoulder.
"You're still not well. We'd better not go anywhere, for now," Christina said.
Desmond shook his head.
"I'll get better on the way. Besides..."
"Besides?" That was Amy. The tone of that question was accusatory, well, not exactly. More like saying "what happened this time?". For which he couldn't blame her, really.
It had been one thing after another from the beginning, as she had said.
Fortunately, this latest thing wouldn't result in any serious problems.
"We'd better leave before someone comes to see us. Because I threatened to break that doctor's arm."
"So that's what you did, huh? "Christina said. "I should have known, the way he was acting."
"Is that all you're going to say? "Amy asked.
"What do you want me to say?
Amy hesitated.
"Well, it's true. I can't complain either, even if I want to. He did it for me, after all. Who knows if I wouldn't have done the same in his place.,"
"Probably. And so would I. By the way," Christina confessed matter of factly.
What a team we make.
I wouldn't trade it for the world, Desmond thought with a fond smile.
He felt better already, just from that.
"Come on. Hurry up," Christina added.
They hurried.
They heard the sound of a whistle blowing. He didn't have any way of seeing it, but smoke would be coming out of the chimney. The train started up and gradually pulled away from the station. It was the fastest vehicle ever created by mankind.
He felt it in his bones.
He felt, at the same time, that they were going too slow and too fast, somehow. But the truth was that he was exaggerating a bit. The truth was that he was starting to get used to it. Out of necessity.
"Seems like every time my life changes, there's a train to take me... to the next station," Desmond muttered, without intending to be heard, as he gazed out the window at the scenery.
What could be seen, that is.
Most of the landscape was nothing more than a blur that disappeared almost as quickly as it had come into his view.
Even if it was something worth seeing, Desmond didn't have time, far from it, to stop and smell the roses.
Not that he wanted to, either.
He wasn't the kind of person who stopped to look at the scenery.
Rather, Desmond was the kind of person who, with nothing to do, spent his time running around in circles like an idiot, as if to burn up all the nervous energy in his body. Or he resorted to an old and reliable habit. Like that of the gun. Like practice, simple training.
So it was all the same.
"Or away from change, in this case," Christina said.
He wasn't so sure. When they got home, he would have to make a final decision. He would have to act.
Desmond would have to decide between doing something about it or not doing something about it. Either would change his life irrevocably.
It didn't matter whether for better or worse, long term or short term. The point was that there would be a big change, that his whole life would be shaken up again. And after that... it was quite possible that he would be left emptyhanded.
Desmond was scared.
Yes, of course he was scared.
Anyone would be scared in his place.
But, it wasn't worth talking about it.
"I guess you're right," Desmond said. He hoped Christina hadn't noticed that pause too much.
But it was silly.
Christina was too perceptive to miss it. She was able to read him like an open book.
With a fist resting on his chin, he averted his gaze, turning it toward the disappearing scenery as the train passed again.
The teachers.
They hadn't heard from the teachers since last night.
The shadow had said it had killed a few but, finding itself outnumbered, had been forced to send some of them away. Just enough so that they wouldn't interfere with the operation.
They had no idea who was alive.
Because there had been survivors, the shadow had no reason to tell a lie to make it look less threatening.
One way or another, they were leaving the answers to those questions behind.
Desmond didn't give a shit. He would see who had died and who hadn't, sooner or later, when they got back to the academy.
When they were relatively safe behind its walls.
Desmond went back to what really mattered, to what in his mind he wanted to go back to.
Maybe he was wrong from the start.
Maybe the change wasn't waiting for him after they reached the next stop, but had already happened.
Without him even realizing it.
Not until now, that is.
All this time had passed without news of Abigail.
No news of any kind.
That phenomenon hadn't recurred, as he had expected. But neither had she contacted him, mentally speaking.
Desmond had slipped into her body, stealing it, stealing her will, albeit temporarily, purely by accident. And his intentions hadn't been malicious.
Desmond had only wanted to rescue her. He had only wanted to do what was best for Abigail, just as Abigail was constantly thinking about what was best for him, not taking herself into consideration.
But, even with that...
It was possible that it had been too much for her, wasn't it?
That it would have caused irreparable damage to their relationship. It seemed easy, even, for things to go that way.
Cruelly easy.
One way or another, better not to think about it.
Better not, but all that awaited him was a long train ride. Without much to occupy his thoughts. Desmond had his friends, of course....
But none of them were the kind of people who were afraid of silence and sought to fill it, no matter how or why.
They didn't mind the silence. Neither did he.
Desmond knew how to enjoy silence.
What he was getting at was that just talking to them wouldn't keep him busy all the way.
Well, why even bother?
Desmond wasn't good at stopping thinking about things. Period.
Even if they talked nonstop for the rest of the way, he'd still manage to torment himself with that dark possibility floating around in his mind.
He noticed that Amy was looking at her arm.
The arm that had been cut off, that is.
Her expression was uncomplicated, not tinged with pain or sadness.
It was, in fact, a fairly normal expression. Almost bored. But even he could see that she was trying hard to maintain a neutral expression.
-Amy, do you notice anything unusual? -he asked.
Amy raised her head, looked at him, surprised, taken aback.
-Huh? -She recovered. No. It's not that.
But her claim that nothing was wrong wasn't at all convincing. She was doing a bad job of hiding it. Her emotions were running high.
-If you don't want to talk about it, that's fine. I don't want you to feel pressured. -That was true. But if it's something to do with your health, we should know about it.
But that was also very true. If it was a health issue, she couldn't just let it go.
He wouldn't understand why she didn't want to talk about it in the first place.
-We still have time to turn back...
-I'm telling you, that's not it!
Desmond gasped, surprised by the intensity of her reaction. Amy, panicking, had screamed at the top of her lungs. As if she felt threatened.
They weren't the only people on the train, of course.
Quite a few had sensibly decided to leave town just in case.
So many heads turned toward Amy, because of the scream she had given. Desmond watched as Amy collapsed under the weight of those stares.
Amy took a deep breath, trying to control herself.
-I'm sorry. I didn't mean it like that. I'm fine. So is this thing. But...
-That's the problem. You see it as a thing.
He hadn't caught it, but now he saw it clearly.
-You said it," Amy admitted nonchalantly. It was as forced an attitude as the expression she had tried so hard to maintain. I know it's silly. That this arm is the same as the arm that was cut off, down to the last bit of skin. Anyway, it doesn't look like my own body. That's why I wasn't able to fall asleep after waking up last night.
Desmond didn't really understand her.
And it certainly wasn't the first time it happened.
Like on the first night after she woke up screaming from a nightmare, he had no idea why she felt that way.
That was because he had never experienced the same thing before.
Desmond's heart had been destroyed and regenerated twice already. It had never felt like it was a false heart. As if it wasn't a part of his body.
He had never been mutilated; if it had been done to him, he didn't remember it. Done to him were the keywords, of course. .He had a cut his own arm, but that wasn' the same thing wasn't it?
In any case, Desmond didn't think mutilation was going to change anything when he couldn't understand what Amy was feeling even after literally losing his heart twice, and that could be called mutilation, anyway.
Even though it was possibly not technically correct.
Desmond wanted to help her feel better, but he couldn't even understand her.
What a shame of a teammate you are.
See, you always find a way to punish yourself. You never learn, you never change.
-But I've only had this thing for a few hours. I'll get used to it. It's not worth worrying about.
One of the people who were dear to him, one of the few people he loved, was going through something bad.
It didn't matter that he didn't understand it, that he didn't understand how much it could affect her.
He knew more than enough that he couldn't help but worry.
But, of course, Amy had to be aware of that as well as he was. And that was why this was so frustrating!
But he would obey. What else could he do?
-All right," Desmond replied, at last. Promising to let it be.
-If that's what you want... -Christina replied, a few seconds after he gave his.
It was all said and done, then.
That was the only thing they were going to get out of her about it.
At least for the time being.
Desmond hoped she was right and would get used to the new arm quickly. Thousands of people did, so he didn't see why not.
If only because they deserved some good luck for a change.
If things went on like this, he would begin to suspect that they had spent all their good luck on the miracle of having met.
On the other hand, we're still alive, he thought. In spite of everything.
That's good luck enough.
The train continued on its way to an unknown station. Only time would tell where and how they would end up.
During the journey, he tried to contact Abigail many times. After returning to the academy, after the explanations, too.
However, he received no response.
Not once.
Abigail's chest was pierced by a knife.
By her own knife, in fact.
But that made no difference, even though it was a special knife. If it could kill her, Abigail would already be dead.
She wanted to be free. She wanted to get out of this spiral.
So she would have tried to kill herself with that knife at least once.
Yeah, it wouldn't kill her.
Desmond grimaced.
It wouldn't kill her, but that didn't mean he wasn't going to care, that he liked to see it.
If he could help it, he would have stopped his savior from suffering at the hands of those monsters for even a second. But he had turned his back on her for the sake of strangers and for the sake of his own useless conscience, and he hadn't even accomplished that.
He was watching her suffer in front of his eyes.
He was watching her die, and that was just as bad as if she might actually die.
It was something he would never forget in life, even though seconds later, or maybe a couple of minutes, she would wake up as if nothing had happened to her.
It didn't matter.
The experience, that horrible intensity, was already too much in itself.
More than he could bear.
Abigail gasped, blood pouring from her mouth. As she was losing strength, the light in her eyes was getting dimmer and dimmer. Until finally it faded.
Soon she would be back. Soon.
Soon.
As always.
As it had been for two thousand years. But...
(but nothing!)
She didn't come back. What was going on?
(nothing!)
This was...
(nothing, nothing, nothing, nothing, nothing!)
(nothing was over!)
Desmond fell to his knees.
There was no light in her eyes. He wasn't breathing, he wasn't moving even a little.
And time passed, and passed, and nothing changed.
The pool of blood beneath her grew larger, but that was all.
(no!)
It was all over.
Desmond woke up with his heart in a fist.
Literally and figuratively. He was cowering, covered in sweat, and had brought his left hand to his heart, squeezing, curling his shirt into a ball.
As if he could touch it directly, through flesh and skin.
As if he could make his maddening heartbeat calm down.
He took a deep breath, trying to calm himself.
In the darkness of his room, feeling crushingly alone even though he knew Amy and Christina were with him, one on each side, he repeated the process enough times to breathe normally again.
The time had come.
It couldn't be postponed.
Desmond's expression changed, filling with determination.
He rose from the bed.
Desmond stepped out into the night.
The moonlight illuminated his path. He raised his head and stared at the moon as if it hid the answers to his problems.
Abigail still hadn't contacted him.
He had no idea where she was. She could be anywhere in the kingdom.
Or she might even have been taken to the Azure Empire.
His search area, in short, would then be the entire world. It wasn't something he could do alone. Without any help. But the time had come.
To make a decision.
To do what he had to do. Desmond had said he would give everything for her.
Sacrifices meant nothing if you didn't care about what you were sacrificing.
That's why he'd never had a problem sacrificing his body, his life, for her.
It was time to prove that he was willing to sacrifice himself for his savior.
Desmond looked back.
He looked back one last time, toward the academy building.
"Goodbye," he said in a whisper.