Weeks later
"I hate traveling by ship," Christina said suddenly. She was lying on the bed on her side of the ship's cabin. With her usual book pressed against her chest, as she stared at the ceiling.
She had been like that for quite a while now. But suddenly she had broken the silence.
With something surprising.
Even though she had said that, her expression hadn't changed at all. She wasn't usually very expressive, but it was still a little strange. Amy thought so, at least.
And if she thought so, well... who knew her better than she did?
Sometimes she felt embarrassed with herself, thinking that way, wondering if Christina would hear her. She knew it didn't work that way, but her ability came pretty close to that.
Still, it was true.
What could she say?
"Really? You don't show it." Well, the truth, plain and simple. Nothing but the truth.
They had one room to themselves, while Abigail and Desmond were in another. Just like in the palace. But here it was more important.
Amy didn't feel comfortable, surrounded by the kind of people who ran the ship. Not that she was prejudiced against people with jobs like sailor. But they were men, after all, men who spent a lot of time at sea without seeing even a hint of a woman on top of it.
If something happened, Amy could easily deal with it. But she'd rather not have to, in the first place.
So she felt safer this way.
"I'm not usually a problem. And I don't want to make a fuss, like a child. "Right. She had imagined that she would answer her like that. In her opinion, Christina was trying too hard not to be a bother to anyone.
She'd seen her break down only a few times. And all of them afterwards she had felt embarrassed, as if she had no right to express her own feelings. Amy couldn't say she didn't know what that was like.
"But do you get dizzy?"
She wanted to make that point clear, first of all. To not assume too much. It was always bad.
"No, uh, it's not that. I used to get dizzy, when I was actually a child, but I got over it a long time ago." She liked to know more about her. Even if they didn't have much importance, like this, for her they did. "I just don't like... to know that there's nothing but water underneath us. And that at any moment something could happen. Everything could go to shit. It makes me nervous."
Amy nodded her head.
She hadn't expected that explanation. She was the person who knew her best in the world, she could be sure of that. But she was a hard person to know.
So she was a long way from knowing everything. This was another thing.
She had always had the impression... Not that she wasn't afraid of anything, of course. Everyone was afraid of something. But of a certain impassivity. Of strength.
She hadn't thought a little water would make her nervous. Unless...
"You know how to swim, don't you?"
Christina shrugged her shoulders. How? Either she knew or she didn't, there was no mystery. What did she mean by that? Or maybe it had been a nervous gesture and she was paying too much attention to her.
"Yes. But I'm still not very comfortable."
"Well, I don't exactly think it's pleasant either. I understand."
Christina shook her head.
"No, you don't. But that's okay. I just..."
She stood up suddenly. Sitting up on the bed and then climbed out of it. Amy supposed she'd come up for air, that she was starting to get seriously overwhelmed, maybe. But she just stood there, looking at her.
"There's still a long journey ahead of us." Yes. Desmond wasn't even completely sure of the destination to begin with. There was no way to estimate how long they would have to be in this place. "I don't like the atmosphere outside, with all the drunken soldiers and sailors."
Few women would like being in a place like this, she suspected. Desmond wouldn't be having a much better time. He hated drunks and couldn't stand typical sailor nonsense.
But still, the last time she'd seen him had been on deck.
He must have attracted quite a bit of attention.
Even more than the beautiful woman next to him, if anything. It wasn't something you saw every day. Nor someone.
"But I don't want to stand around and do nothing. Cards? Fancy that?"
It was as good an option as any. They had to kill time with something, apart from chatting.
"Sure. Why not?"
——
Desmond was on deck.
He didn't really like being there, but he liked being on the lower levels even less. Here, at least, he could see the water as the boat crossed the canal.
He could take in the scenery and spread his wings, feeling the wind.
Peace. Or as close to it as he could get, under the current circumstances. Because the normal life he had been chasing for so long was finally within his grasp. He just had to reach out and grab it.
He just had to trample on the lives of thousands of people.
No, not people.
Enemies. Nothing more than that.
He heard Abigail walking behind him. The deck was full of people moving back and forth. Making noise all the time, even when they weren't doing what they needed to, shouting orders, pulling levers, cutting whatever it was.
It could have been anyone, really. But Desmond knew.
He always knew.
He didn't turn around to look at her. His gaze remained riveted on the surface of the water.
He took a deep breath.
"It's hard to believe, but the end is near. After all this time..." All this time? It wasn't like that. "Actually, it's barely been a year. But it seems so, so long ago when it all began."
He could hardly understand how so much had happened to him in such a short time. He couldn't comprehend everything that had happened to him in the first place.
And what was about to happen. Even though the end was near.
"It's true..."
He had the feeling she was looking at the water, like him. There was something dreamy in her tone. Desmond looked at her from the corner of his eye.
Did it mean that she felt the same way?
Maybe, up to a point.
"But you don't understand. Not really. More has happened to me this year than in the last ten years of my life." And the funny thing is, it wasn't an exaggeration at all. His life had simply been that empty, until the day he had stepped onto that train, where he had begun this long, long journey. "I hope my future is not as exciting."
This disaster was the best thing that had ever happened to him. But he wanted, and deserved, some stability. Some normalcy.
They more than he did.
Abigail moved even closer.
Placing a hand over his, squeezing. Desmond glanced back at the water. And squeezed back.
"This will end," his dear mother told him. "And we'll be happy at last. I will regret only one thing."
The pleasant and somewhat nostalgic conversation had taken a quick turn. Of course it had. Desmond had the feeling that he wouldn't be able to relax, not completely, until he was really in front of that wall.
In front of the "trigger" of the weapon that would destroy the world.
"What do you mean?"
"What else? You're a good boy. You don't deserve to be condemned to be immortal." She was suffering. Of course she was. But they both knew there was no choice.
There was no need to keep talking about it. About the same thing, over and over again.
Especially now, when it was all going to end. It was all said and done, discussed ad nauseam. There was no more to be done. And there were things he wouldn't change, even if he could. This was one of them. He could imagine that his suffering would be indescribable. He didn't think immortality was some kind of blessing.
"But you have suffered enough. And you deserve peace."
Abigail couldn't respond to that. There was only silence. Perhaps, deep inside, she was wondering if she really deserved it after all. He hoped it wasn't true.
"Who knows? Maybe someday, even after that moment, we'd see each other again."
Maybe there would be something beyond this. This bloody earth. He had never believed in anything like that, but... Wouldn't it be wonderful? For everyone to be together again, for there to be no loss.
"Who knows, indeed," Abigail replied.
Desmond would pay to know what she was thinking. Oh, if only it were as easy as asking. Even though they were so close, even though they were perhaps the closest people in the world, it wasn't.
He wished the world were less complicated. He always had.
But this was what he had.
When it was all over, he'd like to go somewhere far, far away. Away from people. With nothing to bother him. That wouldn't solve problems like those, but at least it would get the distractions out of the way.
Yeah, a cabin in the middle of the woods or something sounded great.
There was only a little more to go.
Just as he was beginning to enjoy the scenery and relax, the conversation took a more serious turn. Of course it did. But it didn't bother him too much, to tell the truth. The only strange thing was that she'd held back until now.
"You haven't stopped since you fainted, but you haven't told us everything either. That Charlotte has agreed, organizing this mission, just shows how desperately she needs a miracle. Will you do it now?" Mom wasn't looking at him, just at the water. But he felt the weight of her attention all the same. "Yes or no. Don't bother lying to me."
Desmond didn't hesitate.
"No."
"Why?"
"Because you couldn't help me, anyway."
Abigail thought for a while, then nodded silently. Her expression barely changed. No one could tell how she had taken that.
"It's okay."
That was it.
No recrimination, no guilt eating him up inside, none of that. Maybe honesty really was the best policy. If only he could have answered her honestly with: nothing's wrong.
But, every time he closed his eyes, he could see that stone room where the weapon capable of destroying the world slept.
And the corpses of his friends around him.
Their blood staining his sword.