Triple Crown

[Sonmi-451]

More added.

“Lightning, shut your mouth. You’re going to catch flies if you don’t,” Max tells me as he stares down at me, a smirk on his face at the stunned expression on mine.
“What… what are you…?” I stutter, looking up at him in amazement as I’m not able to articulate anything because of my surprise.
“What am I doing here?” Max finishes for me, and I nod my head wordlessly in a yes. His grin gets even bigger – I mean, it’s not every day that you can render me speechless, so you have to enjoy the moments when you can – and he replies, “Getting you out of here, obviously. I mean, unless you two want to die in here?” He looks between Luke and I expectantly, and we both shake our heads vehemently in unison.
“Good,” Max says, and then orders us, “Now on the helicopter, both of you,” to give me a huge shove in the back that almost sends me falling into the helicopter.
As soon as both Luke and I are inside, and Max has closed the door behind us, he barks out, “I need medics for these two, right now!”
Immediately, an army of white-coated people runs towards us with syringes and bandages and various other medical tools, and, with part of my mind still being in the arena and still associating white with El Nieve, I react instinctively.
A gutteral snarl comes out of my throat, and I can feel myself vibrating as the wolf part of me wants to change form and rip these terrible white people to shreds. Fortunately, I’m not so far gone that the reasoning part of my mind has disappeared completely, and I’m able to control myself and shut down the wolf inside of me before I actually succeed in doing anything like that.
However, I do make everyone around me jump in surprise, and many of the doctors begin retreating, their hands shaking as much as my whole body was a few seconds ago.
In fact, the only person who doesn’t look perturbed at all is Max. All he does is look down at me with a critical eye and say, “Shapeshifter, huh? Probably should have seen that coming, with all that unnatural body temperature and not getting tired and everything.”
“Shapeshifter?” Luke exclaims in amazement, and I turn to look over at him and find him staring at me in shock. “Are you not… are you not human then?” he asks me quietly, his eyes wide, and I force myself to swallow deeply.
If I answer yes, I will have betrayed him completely by not bothering to tell him that I’m not even the same species he is, but if I answer no, I will just be lying to him even more. I guess I just have to be truthful for once, and hope that Luke doesn’t hate me for lying to him earlier.
I bow my head slightly in admittance, and Luke stares at me with such shock and amazement and betrayal that I can barely live with myself. I try to tell myself that not telling him was the best thing to do, that it would have been dangerous for both of us for me to tell him, but I can’t bring myself to think things like that, when he’s right in front of me with his faith in me shattered in two.
I hear the question of “What are you, then?” echoing around in Luke’s mind, and, not being able to bear listening to his broken tone anymore, I answer simply, before he can ask the question, “I’m a wolf.”
“Oh,” Luke exclaims quietly, and now he’s the one Max should be telling to shut his mouth or he might catch flies. In fact, Luke’s expression would be incredibly funny if it were under any other circumstances, but, right now, it’s just a painful reminder of how I betrayed his trust.
I feel compelled to say, even though I know that it probably won’t fix anything – to be perfectly honest, I don’t think anything I say right now will fix anything – “Luke, I’m sorry I didn’t tell you. It would have just been too dangerous for both of us for me to tell you anything about what I really am. I’m sorry, Luke,” I end sincerely, my voice trailing off and threatening to crack as I look over at the hurt and betrayed expression on his face.
For once in his life, Luke doesn’t lie to me and tell me that it’s alright that I lied to him, that he’s not hurt at all, that everything’s fine. In fact, he just doesn’t say anything at all, and lets the doctors lead him away with his eyes on the ground and unbearable sadness plastered across his expression.
“Max, what did I just do?” I murmur quietly as I watch Luke go, my heart threatening to crack with every step that he takes away from me.
“You told him the truth. That’s all that you can do,” Max replies, and I turn to look at him to find him staring down at me with compassion and maybe even commiseration on his face. I guess he probably had to tell someone that he loved that he was immortal too, at some point, and they probably reacted in the same way Luke did.
“Humans always act like this, when they find out what we really are,” Max continues, and my suspicion is confirmed. “They always come around though, if they really love you, but the relationship is never quite the same.” I stare up at Max to find him watching Luke go with sadness and nostalgia on his face that truly makes him seem, despite the fact that he doesn’t look any older than forty, the ninety-one years old that he is.
“Who did you have to tell?” I ask Max, to have him turn his calculating, blazing gaze onto me for a long moment before answering.
“My girlfriend,” he replies quietly, tearing his gaze away from my face to look down the helicopter. “She dumped me right after,” he adds, his voice trailing off, and I lower my eyes out of respect for what he’s lost. After all, she was probably the only girlfriend he’s ever had, and that might be because he latched onto her so tightly that he couldn’t ever bring himself to be with another person ever again. That’s the thing about immortals: we tend to get so glued to one person that they might be the only person we’ll ever want or love. It’s almost cruel, the way that works, because most of the time we get latched onto mortals and then end up killing ourselves when they die.
“She was it for you, wasn’t she?” I question, my tone just as hushed as his now, and he nods his head yes, his expression even more sad now.
“I guess she didn’t feel the same about me that I did about her,” he adds quietly, and again I lower my gaze out of respect. I can’t even imagine how painful that must be, to have the one person for you reject you for being what you are. It would be like Luke telling me that he’s over me, or that he never really loved me to begin with, and that he doesn’t want to be around me anymore.
We stand in silence for a few moments longer, Max mourning the loss of the girl he loved – who is probably dead now, now that I think about – and me mourning the potential loss of Luke. I mean, Luke has been through a lot with me, and has put up with a lot of things that I’ve done, but I don’t know if he’ll stick around and put up with this one. This is basically the largest lie that I could ever tell him – pretending to be human when I’m not, because that makes my whole human existence false and everything he presumed to be true about me doubtful. After all, if I didn’t tell him the truth about what I really am, what else am I not telling him?
“How did you guys – I mean, I’m presuming you’re with the rebels now, considering that there isn’t any Triple Crown branding on this thing-” – I explain in the middle of my thought, to have Max nod his head in confirmation – “get in here, or even get a helicopter, for that matter?”
“The Sections are a lot stronger than I think you realize, Lizzie,” Max tells me, meeting my gaze, and takes my complete attention as a prompt to continue. “We snuck into El Nieve in the middle of the night and stole this thing right out of their armories-”
“I’m sure Rush just loved that,” I can’t help but interject quietly, smiling slightly as I envision all of the shades of red and purple he probably turned.
“-and stripped it all of specifically-El-Nieve parts. We then flew up here, and let ourselves in to the arena with the force field destroyer on this bad boy-” – Max pats the steel wall behind him, and, for the first time I’ve ever witnessed, something Max pats doesn’t try to collapse underneath his hand – “-to get you two out of here. Unfortunately, we didn’t get here in time to save more,” Max ends quietly, his face falling some. Even though he didn’t even know the other kids in the arena, he obviously didn’t want any of them to die – I mean, who would, unless the person you’re asking is from El Nieve? – and clearly he feels bad about not being able to save them all. Man, the more I think about it, the more he really is like me. I guess that means that Triple Crown victors tend to be a specific type of people, and Luke, who is definitely not the type of person who would normally be a Triple Crown victor, just happened to survive this long because he had me on his side.
Max and I share a few more moments of silence, both of us mourning everyone who was lost in the arena, until Max seems to come to his senses and realize that my hand still needs healing – my body doesn’t seem to be doing a very good job of fixing it by itself, which is not a good sign at all about the damage I did to my hand, because my body can heal almost any wound I receive – and turns to me to say, “Lightning, we need to get that hand of yours looked at. Your neck’s fine – scabbed right up, and you shouldn’t even have a scar if you leave it alone – but your hand’s not doing so well.”
He then turns to the rest of the helicopter and yells, “I need a doctor for Lightning! I need a doctor for Lightning!”
When no one comes forward after a few moments – I can’t really blame them for not rushing in here, considering I snarled and was prepared to rip them apart the first time Max called for them – Max snorts and shakes his head in disgust, and mutters under his breath, “Bloody cowards, all of them.”
However, as soon as Max says that, a familiar tall, thin man with a shaved head in a white coat steps out of the main hallway of the helicopter to turn to Max and ask, “You called?”
“Lars!” I cry when I recognize him, and a smile bursts out across both of our faces.
“Miss Lightning,” he greets warmly, and steps forward to shake my hand – the non-damaged right one, of course. “That storm was quite an exhibition of your talents, my dear,” he tells me, and I can’t help but feel my smile get bigger and bow my head in admittance. It’s nice to actually have someone compliment you on what you can do instead of freak out and insist it’s not normal, that you’re a monster who needs to be exterminated, or run away from you in fear, for once.
“Now, let me see about that hand of yours,” Lars says briskly, and, without waiting for me to say anything, takes my left hand, palm-up, in both of his and examines it critically.
After a few moments, he looks up at me again and asks me, “You weren’t really planning for the future when you did this to yourself, were you?”
I shake my head no, feeling almost sheepish now, to have Lars sigh deeply. I guess whatever I did to my hand must be even worse than I originally realized.
“Miss Lightning, I’m afraid you’ve probably caused permanent nerve damage to the fingers above the cut in your hand at best,” he tells me, meeting my gaze concernedly.
Immediately I ask, “What did I do to my hand at worst?” to have him reply, his expression falling even more now, “At worst, we might not be able to save the top part of your hand.”
“Oh,” I mutter quietly, turning my gaze away from Max and Lars so they won’t see the dismay and fear on my expression. A life without the top of my left hand… I might not be able to ever play basketball or baseball or football or volleyball or softball ever again, and I don’t know what I’d do without my sports.
“Well, letting your hand sit certainly isn’t going to help anything, and we have a better chance of saving it if we treat it quickly, so come on, Lizzie. There’s still hope for your hand yet,” Lars finishes, and gives me a beaming smile that seems to warm me from the inside out and makes me believe everything he’s saying, that my hand isn’t gone yet and that there’s still a chance to save it.
“Thank you Lars,” I tell him sincerely as I let him lead down the cavernous main hallway of the helicopter.
“No thanks is necessary, Miss Lightning,” Lars responds as he stops in front of one of the numerous identical steel doorways lining this corridor, pulls out a key, and opens the door. He then looks up at me and gives me another smile, “I always try to make my patients be optimistic about the situation, as things tend to go better when you think they’re going to go better.” I can see a twinkle in Lars’ eye as he looks over at me, and I know that he knows that I’ve had difficulties with that whole optimism thing before, which, by the way, is completely overrated. I’ve succeeded so many timees with a pessimistic attitude that optimism shouldn’t even show its face to me.
“After you, my dear.” Lars motions for me to enter the newly-opened room, which I, of course, do, to gasp in amazement.
He has just walked me into a huge, spotless and white operating room, with a gleaming, padded operating table occupying the middle of the room and rows and rows of glistening surgical tools that I could probably kill thousands of people with lining the walls. There is also a huge white chest off to one side, which I figure must contain gloves and hospital gowns and all of that stuff, what appears to be a stainless steel refrigerator off to the other side, and a little machine sitting in the corner with buttons labeled with such things as “I-200.”
The little machine piques my curiosity, and I gesture to it as I ask Lars, “What does that thing do?”
“Oh, it’s a medicine maker,” Lars replies. “You plug in the medicine you want, and, a few seconds and some humming later, it pops it right out.” To demonstrate, he steps forward, presses the red button marked “A-1000” and, a few seconds later, five little red tablets with “A-1000” engraved in the top of them pop out of the machine and into his waiting hand.
“Whoa,” I can’t help but exclaim. A medicine maker, huh? If we had that kind of technology in the twenty-first century, we could save a lot more people than we already can, presuming that thing can make any kind of medicine.
“It’s a very nice machine,” Lars agrees with a smile and a twinkle in his eye as he looks over at me. “The best medicinal technology known to man.”
I am about to ask a million other questions about the machine, like, “How does it work?” and, “Where does it get the ingredients for the medicines from?” when Lars takes me by the hand, sits me down on the operating table, retrieves a bottle of water from the refrigerator – so I was right, it is a refrigerator – and hands me the bottle of water and the pills the machine just made.
“What are these?” I ask him suspiciously, staring down at the little red tablets warily. Presuming they still use the metric system, the “1000” on the tops of the pills stands for one thousand milligrams, but I have no idea what the “A” stands for.
“Anasthetics,” Lars replies promptly. “They’ll knock you out almost immediately, so make sure that you’re seated away from the edge of the table when you take them.”
He then looks at me expectantly, and, after regarding them, regarding him and sighing, I pop all five into my mouth to lose consciousness only a few seconds later.

[loyal]

[If Lars dies, I'm gonna be very upset, 'cause I like him. c:
I think he might be my new favorite character.... since I have to keep getting new ones. xP ]

[Sonmi-451]

Yeah, I like Lars too, so I wouldn't like to see him die. Then again, I liked Marshall and Marcus and McKenzie and Adelaide and absolutely loved Abby and all of them died, so we'll see. xD Anyways, more added.

I blink my eyes blearily to find myself staring up at a steel ceiling. In my confusion, I wonder, “Where am I, a holding cell?” However, after a few moments, everything comes flooding back in, and I sit up abruptly to find myself hooked up to some kind of drip. Huh. I don’t remember that being there when I took the anasthetic.
“Finally you’re awake,” a familiar voice comes from the right, and I turn my head to find Max, seated in a chair that’s threatening to break under his weight, watching me with a smirk on his face.
“How long was I out?” I ask him immediately, shaking my head in attempt to clear my muddled mind and get myself thinking straight. Unfortunately, those anasthetics seem to have numbed my mind as well as my body, and I end up slightly dizzy and just as confused as before after shaking my head for a few moments.
“An hour,” Max replies, and, as I make sure that he’s watching, I look down at the drip in my arm pointedly. Max immediately understands, and answers my unspoken question, “Your body burned off the anasthetics Lars originally gave you in fifteen minutes, so we had to hook you up to drip anasthetics. The funniest part is that bag that you burned through in forty-five minutes is supposed to be strong enough to knock someone out for two days,” he ends, his smirk getting bigger as he does so.
“Part of being a wolf: we burn things off quicker,” I tell him, and he nods his head in understanding. It then occurs to me why I was knocked out in the first place, and I look down at my hand in anticipation to find nothing but a tightly-wrapped white bandage.
“It’ll heal up soon enough, and then you’ll get to see how good of a surgeon Lars is,” Max tells me, and rises to his feet to pull the IV out of my arm – not very gently, I might add – to unhook from the IV. “Come on Lizzie, there’s someone you should meet,” he then says, and half-pulls me to my feet off of the operating table to push me out of the door and nearly in to someone standing right outside.
“Oh, sorry,” I immediately say, and, when I back up and get a closer look at who I nearly took out, I see that there’s actually three people there: two men dressed in all-black that are almost as big as Max and a small woman standing in between them.
She’s short, probably five-four at best, with long black hair that nearly reaches down to her waist and piercing blue-gray eyes. However, her eyes aren’t friendly like Luke’s are, they’re merely calculating, like I’m a specimen she can’t wait to dissect, and it’s almost enough to send shivers up my spine. I wonder if this is what the scientists that experimented on Jackson looked like, before I burned them up with their building.
“Who are you?” I ask her bluntly, my social skills apparently being numbed by the anesthetics as well. I can tell that she’s important, sure, but I don’t really care what her position is, as I’ve never really had much respect for authority.
Her nose wrinkles at my less-than-hygienic appearance and smell, and she answers, “Caroline King, the officially-elected leader of the Seceding Sections of El Tiempo.”
I don’t like the fact that she’s talking down to me, and I definitely don’t like the fact that she’s making her dislike of my appearance so obvious, so I tell her, my tone cold, “Sorry about looking like this, I just haven’t had time to take a shower, with fighting for my life and all that. And, by the way,” I add, my temper really getting the best of me now, “I don’t really care who you are, but you have no right to talk down to me like that. Just because you happen to have been elected leader of the ‘Seceding Sections of El Tiempo’ – although I don’t know who on earth would actually want you as their leader, unless all of them have sticks up their asses too – doesn’t mean that you’re any better than me, and it certainly doesn’t mean that those big bodyguards of yours can keep you safe from me.” I stare her down menacingly, fully enjoying the fact that I’ve got a half a foot on her at least.
“Are you threatening me?” she says incredulously, her tone more surprised than offended or angry. I guess she didn’t really plan on anyone being brave enough to stand up to her with those two bodyguards hulking next to her, which I, as a safety precaution, have frozen by making the air around them completely solid. I also have frozen Max, who tried to burst into our conversation a moment ago, in the same fashion, and have bent the air around him so that she can’t see him. However, he can still hear us loud and clear, and I can’t help but hope that he’s hearing every word I’m saying to this stuck-up, stick-up-her-ass, holier-than-thou, grade-A bitch, because she deserves everything I’m saying to her.
“Yeah, I am, and I even can carry out my threats,” I reply, hardening my gaze even more so that I’m half-surprised she doesn’t become frozen like her bodyguards.
“But… why?” King’s – I’m definitely not calling her ‘Caroline,’ after all, because calling her by her first name implies that I can tolerate her some – tone is utterly stunned and at a loss, and I can’t help but burst out laughing at her ignorance. She honestly thinks she can treat people the way she does and not have them react negatively?
Oh, right, she probably actually does, because everyone’s been kissing her ass up until now. In me, she’s finally found someone her own size –in a figurative sense, or course; if it was literal, almost everyone would be bigger than her – someone who won’t bend to her will and do exactly as she wants, and she doesn’t really seem to know how to deal with it.
“Because arrogant bitches like you, with your holier-than-thou and kiss-my-ass-because-I”ll-kick-yours-if-you-don’t acts annoy the hell out of me, and I don’t exactly like your attitude either,” I tell her, to smirk when she seems at a loss for words. “What’s the matter, Caroline?” I say derisively. “Can’t think of anything to say to someone who won’t kiss your ass or treat you like you own them?”
“You’re making yourself a dangerous enemy, Miss Lightning,” King finally says, her tone as cold as my gaze, with her blue-gray eyes flashing as they lock on mine.
“King, I’m not afraid of governments, or even of gods, so why in the hell would I be afraid of you?” I shoot back, staring her down as intensely and with as much hostility as I can muster.
“Your bravery amuses me, Miss Lightning,” King tells me, her mouth curling into a malicious smirk. “We’ll see who’s afraid at the end though,” she ends, and then turns and begins to walk away, prompting me to release her bodyguards and shove them all down the hallway with one big burst of wind.
I turn around to face Max, who is currently invisible to everyone but me – the only reason he’s not invisible to me is because I’m the one who made him invisible – and unfreeze him and make him visible again to have him yell at me, “What in the hell did you do that for?”
“She deserved every word I said to her,” I shoot back defensively, hardening my gaze as I stare him down and contemplate freezing him again.
“I’m not saying that she didn’t, Lizzie,” Max begins, which stuns me into silence, “but she’s right: you just made yourself a very dangerous enemy, because she can make the people of the Sections love you or hate you by saying just a couple words up on a stage.”
“Oh,” I exclaim quietly. So that’s how she got elected leader of the rebelling Sections: she manipulated the people with her words. And if she chooses to manipulate the people again, and turn them against me, then I’ll get burned, alright, but burned at the hands of the people of the Sections.
“I probably should have thought that through better and not have frozen you to stop you from breaking it up, shouldn’t I?” I murmur, and Max nods his head in confirmation.
“Yeah, you probably should have,” he agrees, and places his hand on my shoulder and begins to guide me down the hallway. I don’t protest, as there’s undoubtedly another person he wants me to meet, and he probably should be there to moderate me and make sure I don’t cuss them out like I did with King.
However, after a few seconds of walking in silence, a question occurs to me about the conversation I just had with King, and I ask, looking over at Max, “Why does King look at me like I’m a tool she can’t wait to use?”
“Well, I like to think of this rebellion against El Nieve as sort of a chess game between King and Rush,” Max answers, meeting my gaze.
“And that makes us both chess pieces of King then,” I say, and Max nods his head in confirmation. “Max, I don’t want to be used. I want to be the one playing the game.”
My eyes lock on his, and, after a few moments of this staredown, he agrees quietly, “I don’t really want to be used either, but I’ve been used all my life, so I guess I’ve gotten used to it by now.” Max shrugs and then sighs with weariness, and the sadness and tiredness on his face begin to truly hint at how long he’s lived and how many terrible things he’s seen.
Our conversation lapses into silence, and we continue walking down the hallway, both of our eyes on the floor.
However, it’s not in my nature to keep quiet when I have so many questions, so, after a few moments, I look back up at Max and question, “Well, if we are chess pieces of King, then what am I?”
“The queen,” Max replies immediately, and I narrow my eyes at him suspiciously. If there’s anything I like less than arrogant bitches, it’s royalty – even though I am technically royalty myself – and I don’t want to be it, even if just from a figurative sense. Fortunately, Max sees the confusion and suspicion on my face and elaborates, “You’re the queen because you’re the weapon King can’t win without. You’ve caused this rebellion, and you can either further it or shut it down. However, King’s screwed, and the rebellion’s doomed, if she loses you,” he finishes, and I nod my understanding. As much as I don’t want to be royalty or a chess piece, I see Max’s point loud and clear. However, I think I just showed King that it’s even harder to tame a spark than it is to catch one.
“Then what are you, in this game of chess?” I ask him, and he shrugs noncommittally. I guess he doesn’t want to be equated to a chess piece either.
However, I won’t accept that as an answer, and he seems to know this, as, after a half-second of silence, he answers, “Rook, bishop maybe. Someone who can help out the war effort some, and maybe make some inspirational speeches to help the Sections, but not someone who can really change the game.”
“Oh really?” I shoot back, my eyes locking on his. “I’ve won a lot of chess games with rooks and bishops.”
“Then you haven’t had me as a rook or bishop,” Max replies, and, despite the fact that I just insulted someone who can make everyone I’m fighting for hate me, and that Luke probably hates me, and that everyone I knew and loved from the Triple Crown is dead, I can’t help but laugh. In so many ways, Max reminds of my dad, except for the fact that my dad is a two-thousand-year-old god and Max is, well, not.
“You found me, and helped me be the spark though, so, if it weren’t for you, this rebellion wouldn’t even exist,” I tell him, to have him shake his head in denial.
“Mitchell was the one who made you into a spark. I was the one who suggested you break Luke’s heart to get liked by the audience,” Max says, and I sigh. In many ways, Max is like me, too: he doesn’t like to take praise for anything, even if it is something he actually did.
“I still wouldn’t be here if it weren’t for you though,” I murmur, my eyes locked on his face, and here he finally bows his head in admittance. After all, Luke would be dead if it weren’t for him, and I would have gone with Luke too, so I guess I really do owe my life to Max. Of course, he also gave me that tip – when he was drunk, but he still gave it to me – about the land mines underneath the ankle cuffs that definitely helped me win One-Person Survival, which means that I owe him my life twice over.
We walk in silence for a little while longer, the bitterness that both of us have at being pawns – yet again – palpable in the air. In fact, we probably would have continued the whole walk down the hallway without speaking if it weren’t for the fact that I spotted another one of the unmarked steel doorways and had my mind immediately go to Luke.
Max, being a step ahead of me by reading my mind, immediately answers, “Luke’s fine. Lars patched him up, and he’s just resting right now – because, unlike you,” Max interjects, looking over at me with a smile on his face, “anasthetics that are supposed to knock you out for four hours actually do knock him out for four hours-” – I can’t help but smile at this comment myself – “but you can go see him as soon as you wake up.”
Max’s reply doesn’t do anything to calm my fears that Luke will hate me, and that he won’t want to see me, but Max seems to notice this, as he adds gently, his tone causing me to look up at him and meet his gaze, “Lizzie, he’ll come around. He’s been through so much with you already that he can get through a little more.”
My heart immediately begins to fill with sadness at his words, not because of what they actually mean but because of who they remind me of, and I say, looking over at Max, “That sounds so much like something Marshall would say.” After a half-second of silence, I add quietly, “I miss him, Max.”
“I know,” Max replies softly, his eyes locked on mine. “You can’t let yourself drown in it though, because people still need you.”
“I know,” I echo, then add, looking back up at Max to give him a sincere smile, “Thank you, Max.”
“No problem, Lizzie,” he responds, returning my smile.
I then drop my eyes and slip my hands into my pockets, and we continue to walk down the hallway, with me idly wondering how long this hallway is, as we haven’t seen the end yet even though we’ve probably been walking for five minutes at least.
Suddenly it occurs to me that, while I do know that the arena was in someplace cold and snowy, I have no idea where that was, so I turn to Max and ask him, “Where are we coming from?”
“Alaska,” he answers immediately, and I almost curse my stupidity out loud. Of course the arena would be in Alaska; I mean, where else are there large expanses of untouched snowy wasteland in US – or, I guess it’s El Tiempo – borders?
“And I presume we’re going to El Nieve?” I prompt, to have him nod his head in confirmation.
“Yeah. After all, the only way for us to win this is to take the fight to El Nieve, and catch them sleeping,” Max adds, and now it’s my turn to nod my head in understanding.
“You must have already caught them sleeping, for you to have stolen this,” I point out, and Max smiles slightly and nods his head again.
“Yeah, I guess we did. To be perfectly honest, I don’t think El Nieve really thought the Sections meant business till we stole this thing,” Max elaborates, and I nod my head and stare down at the floor, feeling kind of like a bird by nodding my head so much while walking.
After we walk in silence for a little while longer – during which time we pass lots of other steel doors and see the first signs of human life on the helicopter besides Max, King, Lars and the other doctors – and don’t stop for anything, I finally turn to Max and ask him, “Where are we going?”
“There’s someone who wants to see you, and someone I think you want to see too,” Max tells me, and, before I can even begin to guess about who that might be, he stops abruptly to knock on one of the steel doors to the left side of the hallway.
I hear someone from inside call, “Coming!” and feel the floor vibrate under my feet slightly as the owner of that voice gets to their feet and crosses the room to open the door. I then gasp audibly when I see who that person is.
Jackson.

[loyal]

[I honestly don't know how I feel about Jackson. I mean, I like Luke a lot better, but that doesn't mean I don't want Jackson to end up with his girl or anything. I kinda want him to fall in love with someone else and just leave Luke with Lizzie. ]

[Sonmi-451]

Yeah, I like Luke a lot (seeing as Luke is basically my model of a perfect guy xD) but I also like Jackson very much too, considering that he, in the fact that he hates himself for what he is, is a lot more like Lizzie than Luke is. I don't think I really have a favorite out of those two though, because that would be like picking favorites among children for me. xD Anyways, more added.

“Lizzie!” Jackson immediately cries, his voice relieved, and he runs towards me to wrap me in a huge hug and hold me against him so tightly that I think he might crack a couple of my ribs. After a few long moments, during which time I hug him back, incredibly relieved and happy to see him too, he pulls back to stare down at me and murmur, his tone becoming concerned now, “Are you alright? Is your hand alright?”
“I’m…” I begin to say, and quickly backtrack to end, “My hand’s fine,” because God knows, with all that’s happened in the last few hours, I am not fine.
“Thank God you’re alive,” he murmurs, and presses me against him again, causing his sharp but not unpleasant scent to fill my nostrils and almost intoxicate me. It’s amazing to think that I thought I could survive much longer in that arena without him there.
“I missed you, Jackson,” I say into his shoulder, and cling onto him even tighter. As much as I love Luke, I still need Jackson too, and nothing that happened in the arena could change that.
“I missed you too,” Jackson whispers in my ear, his lips tickling my neck. Taken by surprise, I jerk backward to stare up at him and find him looking down at me with a smile – one of those true smiles that lights up his eyes and really shows how handsome he is – on his face.
Suddenly, I realize how truly fatigued I am, with the stress of everything that’s happened lately, and that I’m about to collapse on Jackson.
Fortunately, I’m able to keep my feet, and he apparently notices my weariness, as he tells me, “Come on. We can talk after you sleep,” and then places a gentle hand on my back to guide me into his room so that I can fall onto his bed. He then closes the door behind us, and comes over to sit down on the edge of the bed next to me.
I roll over to look up at him and murmur, “Those three days in the arena were three days too long without you, Jackson,” before rolling back onto my stomach and immediately falling asleep, the last thing in my mind Jackson’s smile, which I haven’t seen in what feels like forever.

Everything around me is soft and fluffy and incredibly warm – in the case of the person next to me – which isn’t right. In the arena, nothing is soft and fluffy, and that’s where I am, right?
Groaning and rolling onto my back, I open my eyes to find myself staring at a steel ceiling that definitely doesn’t exist in the arena. I then feel the person next to me stir, and roll over a little more to find myself staring at Jackson, which causes everything that happened before I fell asleep to come back. Unfortunately, the thing that comes back the most powerfully is the look on Luke’s face after he learned that I’m not a human and I didn’t bother to tell him about it.
Just thinking about how irreparably I may have damaged my relationship with Luke makes me sigh and want to suffocate myself with the pillow my head’s resting on.
However, Jackson, being a step ahead of me by taking advantage of my weakness and reading my thoughts, immediately steals my pillow and pulls me closer to him with a murmur of, “You’re not committing suicide on my watch.” What sends shivers up my spine is that it sounds like Jackson’s been prepared to say that line for a while now, as if he’s been expecting me to attempt to commit suicide.
However, I decide to play along with the ruse and reply, “Yes, sir,” with a little smile on my face, and sigh in happiness when he locks his arms around me and holds me to him.
“How are you so beautiful when you’ve just woken up, when it seems like I always look terrible?” Jackson asks me quietly as he raises a hand to gently trace the outline of my jaw.
“Actually, I was wondering the same thing, except about you,” I admit, and it’s completely true. It seems like Jackson always looks like a young god, no matter what he’s doing, and that amazes me because it seems like, half the time, I look terrible enough to disgrace his beauty.
“I don’t know what you’re talking about, Lizzie, because if anyone has eyes, they’re going to be looking at you.” He then gives me a kind smile, and I see some more of the worry that’s been hiding at the back of his eyes for a while now disappear in oblivion.
“You really are so much like Luke that it’s scary sometimes,” I murmur, as I allow myself to think about Luke. I wonder if he still hates me as much as he did when my secret first came out; undoubtedly he does, since I haven’t had a chance to explain it to him.
Unfortunately, I have the feeling that, no matter how much explaining I do, I can never truly fix our relationship, because that ultimate deception of him cannot be mended by a few words. After all, it takes a lot more than words to mend a broken heart, and that’s basically what I’ve stuck him with; I mean, I have to think that he feels betrayed and let down, maybe as badly as if I had downright rejected him the first place, which I think qualifies as him having a broken heart.
After a few moments of silence – obviously Jackson doesn’t really want to talk about the subject of Luke, although I suppose I can’t really blame him – I look Jackson in the eye again and ask him quietly, “Do you think Luke will forgive me?”
“Lizzie, he loves you so much that he would forgive you if you killed him. I’m sure he’ll forgive you,” Jackson tells me, but there’s something about his tone that makes me think that those words are scripted, memorized, come up with beforehand, and I can’t help but wonder how long Max spent talking to him and how many other things Jackson has scripted responses to.
“Jackson, I did something even worse than kill him: I killed the girl he was in love with. Do you think he’ll ever forgive me for that?” I repeat.
“Lizzie, you didn’t kill the girl he was in love with,” Jackson replies immediately, his tone more lifelike now, so that I think these words might actually be his own. “You merely told him that she wasn’t who he thought she was,” Jackson says, and, when he sees me open my mouth to protest, immediately keeps on talking, “which isn’t the same thing as killing her, because the girl that he still loves is alive and well and laying next to me right now. She just... isn’t human, that’s all,” Jackson ends lamely, and I can’t help but shake my head as a bitter smile crosses my lips.
“She’s just not human, that’s all?’” I repeat, and continue to shake my head. I’d say – and Luke seems to agree – that me not being human is a whole hell of a lot more important and deserves a lot more care than a “that’s all.”
“Lizzie,” Jackson begins again, obviously in an attempt to stop the violent protest he sees I’m going to make, “it’s like a blind cat falling in love with another cat, only to find out that that cat is actually a dog. The essence of the thing the blind cat fell in love with – the dog-cat’s personality and opinions and everything that made that dog-cat so perfect in the blind cat’s eyes – are still there, just in a different exterior than the blind cat originally thought.”
Despite the fact that Jackson’s trying to make a very serious, very real point, and that all of the points in the world – even ones as good as the one Jackson just made – might not be able to make Luke not hate me for lying to him for so long, I can’t help but laugh at the analogy Jackson chose to use. “So you’re calling Luke a blind cat?” I choke out, collapsing into hysterical laughter as I lay against Jackson.
“Yeah, something like that,” Jackson says after a moment, and begins to laugh with me too, his deep chuckles filling the room and serving as a living reminder of how incredibly amazing he is when he’s happy.
“You have a beautiful laugh,” Jackson murmurs in my ear after we both quiet down, and I lean against him, enjoying the way his hard body presses against mine.
“You kind of have a beautiful laugh too,” I murmur after a few moments of resting with my head on his shoulder, and I look up to give him a genuine smile that soon becomes a smirk as I see the look of amazement on his face – like he’s fearing for my mental health. Although, now that I think about it, I suppose I kind of have given him reasons to worry before.
After a few moments of just laying next to him in a contented silence, something that I find incredibly interesting occurs to me, and I begin, as I look up at him and meet his gaze again, “Jackson?”
“Hmm?” he murmurs back as he absentmindedly traces the outline of my cheekbones with an outstretched hand. He doesn’t seem to notice the sincerity and thoughtfulness of my tone – he seems to be too distracted by the fact that I’m lying in front of him – but I have a feeling that he’ll be paying very close attention as soon as he hears the gist of what I’m going to say.
“You know, I think this is the longest I’ve ever been in your company without kissing you. Why is that?” I meet his gaze almost fearfully, as I think I know the answer but don’t want to admit it to myself.
Jackson – like I predicted – immediately snaps to attention and regards me carefully for a few moments before replying, “Well, you tell me. Even though I could if I would, I can’t read your mind and have no clue what you’re thinking.” However, I know that to be a blatant lie as well, as I know that Jackson must at least have theories about where I’m going with this, but, in the interest of continuing the conversation, I decide not to point this out.
Instead, I say, starting out quietly and gaining volume and confidence as I speak, “Jackson, I think being with Luke in arena, and seeing him forget me completely, and realizing how terrible life would be without him, changed something inside of me, and tipped the scales in Luke’s favor.”
“Are you saying that you don’t love me anymore?” Jackson asks me, his eyes locked on mine, and immediately I shake my head no. Of course I still love Jackson, because I know that I can’t live without him either, but I don’t think I need Jackson as much as I need Luke anymore.
“Jackson, I definitely still love you, because I know that I wouldn’t be able to survive without you there next to me to talk to me and help me face the things I don’t want to face, but I don’t think I need you as much as I used to, and I think I need Luke more now. It’s almost like-”
“You’ve found a new addiction in Luke, and he’s helping wean you off of me,” Jackson ends for me, as I give him access to my thoughts for once, and I nod my head in confirmation to look at Jackson almost fearfully. I have no idea how he’s going to react to this – I can’t even imagine how much pain and emotional turmoil I must be putting him through by saying those words – and I know that I’m screwed if he happens to lose it now, as I’m weakened from my stay in the arena and by the emotional turmoil I’m going through with Luke.
“You think that almost like we’re drugs,” Jackson says quietly, his intense golden gaze boring holes into me, and I nod my head in confirmation, because it’s definitely true. Jackson and Luke have become the drugs I need to survive, the things that are as critical to my existence as water and nutrients and air. After all, I know that I wouldn’t be able to live without either one of them, and just thinking about attempting something like that makes my head and heart hurt.
“You guys are, to me,” I tell him quietly. “I’ve grown to need both of you for survival, so much so that I don’t know what I’d do if one of you went away, or I did something that would make you hate me and never speak to me again,” I end, finally voicing the issue that’s been truly nagging at me about what would happen if Luke really does hate me for lying to him.
“Lizzie, Luke will never hate you, and he will never want to not speak to you ever again, because he needs you for survival as much as you need him,” Jackson tells me, and my eyes immediately shoot open wide in surprise. Jackson notes this and continues, “He loves you with all of his heart, and he knows that he wouldn’t have a reason to live if it weren’t for you – I mean, he wouldn’t even be alive right now if it weren’t for you, but that’s beside the point – so he could never not speak to you again, because for him, that would be like holding his breath because he decided to shun the air: it just wouldn’t work, and eventually he’d either crack and breathe, or die. You are as necessary to him as we seem to be to you, so he will never hate you, and he will never think about leaving you, because he needs you, just as much as I need you.” Jackson’s voice trails off, and I hear the desperation in it as he looks me in the eye with so much passion that I’m almost scared.
He doesn’t want to be losing to Luke, and clearly he’s trying to gain some ground. Unfortunately, his bit of truthfulness about what Luke will do only help Luke gain ground, even though it did exhibit Jackson’s honesty.
“Jackson,” I begin, seized by a sudden pulse of emotion that drives me away from him and onto my feet, “I really need to go talk to Luke.” I stare down at him for a few moments, the betrayed stamped across his forehead almost too painful for me to look at, before I bend down and kiss him gently on the lips.
After a moment, I pull back, for fear of being tempted to stay, and tell him gently, as I look him in the eye, “I’ll be back.” I then give him one last smile before turning and leaving, feeling a little bit better about my relationship with Luke, even if I just ruined the one I have with Jackson.

[loyal]

[I have nothing to say, really. Well, except... :D :D :D about Luke and D: about Jackson... ]

[Sonmi-451]

Yeah, that's kind of how I felt too after writing that chapter. xD More added.

“Luke!” I exclaim instinctively, upon walking out of Jackson’s room and turning to the left to find Luke standing there, almost like he was waiting for me. “What are you doing here?” I immediately ask, as I can’t help but wonder if he really was standing there waiting for me. If so, he must have heard some of Jackson’s and my conversation.
“I was waiting for you, because I think we need to talk,” Luke tells me quietly, his eyes locked on mine, and I can tell that he too wants to talk about what I said and what he heard in Jackson’s and my conversation.
“Here, let’s go to my room.” Luke takes my hand gently in his – his mere touch makes me feel a little bit better, and heartens me some – and leads me down the hallway to another, identical steel door about five down from Jackson’s.
“Come on in,” he says as he opens the door and holds it open for me, like the true gentleman he is.
The first thing that I notice about Luke’s room is that it’s distinctly different from Jackson’s. Jackson’s almost looked like a military bunker, the kind of room a full-time soldier who’s never known anything but battle would set up, while Luke’s room looks like a much-neater version of the average seventeen-year-old boy’s room, with a small laptop sitting on the desk next to his bed and the shelves completely empty. In fact, the whole room is completely empty except for the change of clothes hanging in the open closet and one framed picture sitting on his nightstand. I walk across the room to see what picture it is, as I’m very intrigued by it, and my breath catches in my throat as soon as my eyes fall on it. It’s a picture of the painting Abby did on the wall of my room in the Champion’s center, except, in the picture, the always is emphasized a little bit more than it actually is in the painting.
“We’re allowed to have one personal item in our room,” Luke says quietly behind me, and I set the picture down and turn around to find him watching me with unbearable regret and remorse in his eyes.
A moment goes by in silence, my eyes locked on his, until I finally work up the nerve to say something, and burst out, at the exact same time that Luke does, “I’m sorry.”
“Here, I’ll go first,” I immediately say after I realized what’s happened, and, after taking a deep breath to calm my nerves – of course, it doesn’t really help at all – I continue, “Luke, I’m sorry for not telling you that I’m an immortal shapeshifter, and lying to you by leading you to believe that I was human, and I’m sorry for thinking that you wouldn’t be angry at me when you found out. I should have thought more about that beforehand,” I end quietly, looking at Luke from underneath my eyelashes, to see him give me a kind smile.
I then look all the way up to have him tell me, “Lizzie, I’m sorry for taking the news of your immortality and non-humanness so badly, because I know now that you really were just keeping it from me to keep me safe, not because you didn’t want to, or because you didn’t think I deserved to know. I shouldn’t have flipped out on you like that when you kept me ignorant because you cared about me and didn’t want me getting hurt, and I’m sorry for that. To be perfectly honest, I think I should have given myself fifteen solid minutes to think about it and process it all before actually reacting to what you told me.” Luke gives me another smile, and I feel all of the fear and anxiety that’s been hanging over me and making it hard to breathe leave my body as I truly process his words.
“So you don’t hate me?” I ask him, and he shakes his head no, his smile changing to a smirk as he does so.
“Of course not. I could never hate you, Lizzie; you’re too amazing for that.” After giving me one last kind, sincere grin, he leans forward and kisses me gently on the forehead, at which point we stand in a contented silence for a little while, me enjoying the feeling of Luke’s arms wrapped around me as I rest my head on his shoulder.
However, I know that Luke’s questions about the specifics of what I really am will get to him eventually, and, sure enough, Luke soon bursts out, “So... is there anything else you are, besides an immortal shapeshifting wolf?”
I pull back to look up at him, a smirk on my face at his naive curiosity that gets bigger when I see the almost anxious look on his face, like he’s fearing that I’m offended by his question.
Of course I’m not – I’m the opposite of offended by it by finding it amusing – so I tell him, “Well, I’m a demigod too, and technically royalty, a princess, if you want to get real specific about it.” My lip curls when I say that I’m a princess, as I don’t like royalty, especially not princesses – because they tend to be the most dramatic and stuck-up, in my experience with them – and I definitely don’t like being royalty.
“So your dad’s a god and a king?” Luke asks, his expression completely blown away, and it’s all I can do to not crack up and answer his question coherently.
“Yeah,” I confirm, nodding my head and allowing my smile to get even bigger as Luke shakes his head in amazement.
“What about your mom, and your brothers? Are they immortal shapeshifters too?” Luke questions, and I nod my head again.
“Yep,” I reply shortly. I don’t really want to think about my family right now, with the fact that I still might never get home and see them again, even though I survived the Triple Crown. In fact, the only way I’m ever going to get home is if the rebels win the fight with El Nieve and remove the barrier between Luke’s and my dimension and this one. However, Luke is still full of questions – I mean, who can blame him? – so, before he gets a chance to ask his next one, I read his mind and answer, “And yes, that does mean my parents are older than fifty-two and forty-nine.”
“You just read my mind, didn’t you?” Luke asks, narrowing his eyes at me, and I nod my head, feeling almost bad about it now. What if he freaks out and decides that he is going to hate me? “So that’s how you could always answer my questions before I asked them,” Luke murmurs. “I had always wondered about that.” He sees the fear on my face and gives me a reassuring smile, as if directly telling me that it’s alright, he’s not going to freak out or get mad or suddenly decide to hate me.
“Well, even though you can read my mind, I’m going to ask my question anyways: how old really are your parents, if that’s not offensive or rude for me to ask?” Now it’s his turn to look at me with trepidation, and I can’t help but smile. He really is incredibly cute and incredibly naive. I guess it’s better that he’s naive than like me though.
“My parents are two thousand and twenty-five and two thousand and twenty-two, respectively,” I reply, a huge grin spreading across my face at the amazement plastering Luke’s expression.
“So they were alive when Jesus was then...” Luke murmurs, sounding like his breath honestly was taken away by that last bit of information.
“Yeah, although my dad was the only one who was actually in the Middle East at the time,” I add, and Luke looks up at me with his question just written across his face. “And, before you can ask,” I quickly begin again with a smile, “yes, my dad did get to meet Jesus Christ, and yes, my dad got to see how amazing that guy was. In fact, seeing everything that Jesus did was what truly affirmed my dad’s belief that there had to be something higher than him because, in his words, he’s too human to be the most powerful being in the universe.”
“What did your dad mean, he’s too human to be the most powerful thing in the universe? I mean, he’s a god. He’s not human at all.” Luke eyes me curiously, and I can’t help but smile and shake my head at how completely Luke is missing the point my dad originally intended to make.
“What my dad means is that he’s on too low a level, he’s too physical to be the most powerful thing in the universe,” I answer, to leave Luke looking as clueless as he was before. Taking a deep breath, I continue, “My dad is a physical god, a god that walks this world.” I look at Luke for a sign of understanding, and, when he nods his head, I keep on talking. “Let’s say, for argument’s sake, he’s on this level.” I hold my bandaged left hand up at about chest level, and Luke nods his head again. “The god that created the universe – and also, in my dad’s first-hand witness, the father/creator of Jesus Christ – is on this level.” I hold my right up about four inches higher than my left hand, and Luke nods again. “The god that created us is on a completely different level; that god is not physical, nor does that god walk this world. That’s what that god used Jesus for.”
“So you’re saying that the real god, the one that actually created the universe and is the most powerful thing in it, is too high up for us to be able to physically see or touch that god?” Luke questions, and I nod my head in confirmation, pleased that he’s finally picked up on it.
“Yeah. That god is like... too perfect, I guess you could say, for him-her-it to walk on the imperfect world.” I nod my head in confirmation, which prompts Luke to nod his head in understanding.
“So I guess that makes your dad a physical god, and the god that created your dad a metaphysical god, right?” Luke questions, and I nod my head in confirmation again, very happy that he’s finally beginning to understand.
We sit in silence for about a half-second before Luke finally realizes that I’m not going to read his mind and answer his questions for him right now and voices the question on his mind.
“You said something to Puck about your friend Kuro, when you flipped out on him during the last interview we did.” Luke meets my gaze for confirmation, and I nod my head again, wondering if Luke has actually picked up on what Kuro actually is. “Well, I looked up Kuro, and it turns out that it means ‘evil’ or ‘blackness’ in Japanese. However, Kuro also is a god of evil, according to Japanese legends, and there are recurring themes in many other older religions – like the Greeks and the Egyptians – that made some scholars think that Kuro might have actually existed, for the idea of him to have spread to such different places over such a long period of time. So, I guess I was wondering if the Kuro you were talking about is actually that Kuro, the one that so many ancient civilizations feared and hated.”
“Ding! Ding! Ding! We have a winner!” I say, to smile halfheartedly at my own joke. While I am almost proud that Luke connected all of the dots on his own once I let him in on the whole immortals-exist-gods-walk-the-earth thing, I don’t really want to talk about Kuro right now, especially not with the knowledge that he’s actively watching me and recording everything I’m doing so that he can torture me with it later.
“So, is Kuro actually a god of evil then?” Luke asks, his brow furrowed in confusion, and I nod my head briefly. Luke immediately then asks, “Well, if you say that the god that created your dad is a nice god – I mean, if you presume that the general gist of Jesus is true, then that god did send down his son to die for us – then why would that god create a creature of complete depravity and evil like Kuro? It just doesn’t make sense, for that god to love the world but also create a creature such as Kuro to harm the world.” Luke looks over at me for an explanation, and I take a deep breath. If Luke had a hard time grasping the metaphysical versus physical concept, then he’s going to have a hell of time grasping why on earth Kuro was created.
“Well, I presume you already know that old saying about too much of a good thing, right?” I ask before beginning to explain, to have Luke nod his head yes. Good. That’s one less thing I have to try and fail at explaining.
“Well, that also applies to good itself. If there’s too much good, too much light, too much life in the universe, then the universe can’t support it all and things begin to die off. It’s like if you have too large a population for the world to support, then people are going to start dying off.” I meet Luke’s gaze to make sure that he’s following to continue to talk when I see that he is.

[loyal]

[Well, you'd think that Lizzie would never get bed-head hair. Just sayin'. xP ]

[Sonmi-451]

Yeah, I guess so. xD More added.

“Well, Kuro was created in the year 6666 BC to keep the order between good and evil in universe. At that time, there was too much good in the world for the world to support it all, and too large a population in too small a place for everyone to be supported by the land, so all of the good in the world was starting to literally kill. The metaphysical god seemed to notice this, and created Kuro as a way to counterbalance all of the good in the world and return order to the universe. Ever since then, Kuro has been responsible for every large natural disaster and every major war that we know about, and probably lots others that we don’t know about. To be perfectly honest, he has probably changed the course of human history more than any other single being or person, even if he has generally affected it negatively.” I meet Luke’s gaze almost warily, just anticipating all of the questions Luke’s going to have about Kuro, to read his mind momentarily and find... nothing. Luke seems to grasp the concept of Kuro perfectly, if you can believe that.
In fact, the only question he has is about my dad, which he quickly voices, “Well, why was your dad created then? I mean, you’re dad’s a lightning god, so what did he have to counterbalance? Were there not enough storms at around 15 BC?” Luke meets my gaze curiously, and I can’t help but smile.
He’s so full of questions, that, to be perfectly honest, he reminds me of a little kid. I guess I can’t really blame him for having so many questions though, considering that the topic he’s asking about is one where basically everything is unknown.
“Well, my dad actually isn’t just a lightning god,” I begin, to have Luke nod his head in understanding. I guess he didn’t really think that the god up in the sky would really just create another god just because there wasn’t enough lightning.
“My dad happens to also be a force for good in the universe, the exact opposite of Kuro basically.” I look over at Luke to double-check that he’s still following to see, with happiness, his gaze locked onto my face with complete attentiveness. Man, if every kid listened to their teachers the way Luke listens to me, everyone would get As, no question about it.
“So your dad was created to counterbalance out Kuro some?” Luke questions, connecting the dots without any prompting from me, and I smile and nod my head yes. You know, it really is amazing how quickly he’s figuring everything out.
“Yeah. About fifteen years before Christ, Kuro was getting too much power, and causing too many bad things to happen. I mean, it was right around that time that he was in the process of ending the Egyptians, and he had ended the Greeks not too long before that, and he was already laying out the seeds of Rome’s demise, and, with more people being born and therefore more possibility for evil – Kuro feeds off the evil in humans’ hearts, which means that he basically gets more powerful every day,” I explain as an aside, to have Luke nod his head in understanding – “-coming into the world every day, Kuro was getting so powerful that the world wasn’t able to support his evil, and the balance between good and evil in the whole universe was being threatened. The metaphysical god decided that it had to intervene and do something before things got too serious, so it created my dad, in the hopes that he could counterbalance out at least some of Kuro’s evil. I mean, my dad couldn’t be too powerful and completely counter out Kuro, otherwise we would be back to the too-much-good issue again, but my dad also had to be powerful enough to counter out at least some of Kuro’s evil, lest the whole world become evil and things completely get screwed up, so my dad was made to be not as powerful as Kuro but powerful enough to keep him in check.” I look over at Luke to make sure that he got all of that to smile when he nods his head in understanding.
“So what has your dad done to counterbalance out Kuro’s evil, over the centuries?” Luke asks me, and I have to think about which instances I’m going to use, as there are so many recognizable and famous ones that I could spend hours listing all of the times my dad has kept Kuro in check and saved something good.
“Well, my dad kept the Roman Empire alive for three centuries longer than Kuro had originally intended,” I say, to have Luke nod his head. “My dad also helped the Americans win the Revolutionary War, to show that progress and forward, good thinking have a place in this world.”
“Kuro backed the British?” Luke asks, and I nod my head in confirmation.
“Yeah, as Kuro is definitely not a fan of progress or forward thinking, and he hates democracy and the idea of freedom with a burning passion,” I answer, to add after a moment of thinking, “In fact, if I’m remembering right, Kuro even commanded some British troops in that war. Unfortunately, my dad’s influence was too strong and Kuro just didn’t care enough for the British to actually win, so the Americans prevailed.” I shrug my shoulders, and then look over at Luke to find him with a completely stunned look on his face that completely puzzles me. What did I say that was so confusing?
“So would the Americans have lost if Kuro cared more?” Luke questions, his eyes locked on mine, and, with a small sigh, I nod. It kills me to admit that Kuro could completely destroy my dad and the world if he wanted to, but unfortunately that’s the truth.
“Definitely,” I answer shortly. Unfortunately, Kuro happens to be the single most powerful physical being in this universe because of all of the humans in this world whose evil he can feed off of, so Kuro could tip any war or conflict in whatever direction he wanted to if he put all of his power behind one side.
“So our country only exists because Kuro didn’t care enough to tip the war in the British’s favor?” Luke looks me in the eye curiously and almost incredulously, and I nod my head again, a half-smile crossing my face at the shock on Luke’s face. I guess he doesn’t understand how much power Kuro truly has and how much he could and already has affected human history.
“Yep. Isn’t that scary to think, that our country only exists because Kuro didn’t favor the British enough to help them win?” I think aloud, and Luke immediately nods his head in agreement.
“That’s downright freaky,” he murmurs, shaking his head in disbelief. “We’re only Americans because of Kuro’s apathy.” A half-second goes by in silence before Luke looks up at me and asks, “Why do you think Kuro spared America, if he hates progress and free-thinking as much as he seems to?”
“Because we’ve caused so much chaos over our existence to give him quite a show,” I immediately reply, knowing that what I’m saying is true, even though it makes me angry just thinking about it. “All Kuro wants is chaos, and, while he can’t see directly into the future, he can read humans’ minds and hearts with one glance, and he can also tell if the person he’s reading will make a big difference in the future, so he can roughly figure out the future until the newest generation of people on the planet right now die. Because of this, he can see what chaos is going to occur in that period of time, and if any countries are going to rise and fall, and I guess he figured out by reading people that he could get a lot more chaos later by letting America survive by giving up on the chaos of watching the country get destroyed.”
“So Kuro’s willing to give up momentary chaos now for more chaos later?” Luke asks me, and I nod my head in confirmation.
“Kuro is always looking to manufacture the most chaos, so he’s always open to letting people and countries survive if they’ll cause more chaos later, even though that means forgoing the chaos that would occur from those people and countries falling and dying now. He also has been known to intervene and stop people from dying at a certain time if he can see that they’ll come to a more entertaining death later.” When I see Luke looking at me in confusion, I explain, “He’d much rather see someone burn after having their best friend lock them in a room and light the whole building on fire than have that person put a gun in their mouth a few years earlier.”
“Oh,” Luke exclaims quietly, and I look down to see his hands balling into fists. Luke stares down at his lap and clenched fists for a few moments before looking back up, staring me down and saying, “So Kuro treats us all like we’re entertainment?”
“Yeah,” I respond shortly. “Kuro lives to cause and create chaos and evil, and he just happens to enjoy doing so.”
Luke shakes his head in disgust and anger, and sighs deeply. “Well, this Kuro of yours sure sounds like a son of a bitch. I feel bad that you ever met him.”
“You have no idea how bad I feel that I met him too,” I mutter quietly, shaking my head, and a small half-smile flits across Luke’s face.
“Yeah, I guess I don’t,” he murmurs quietly, and silence overtakes us as I stare down at the floor and try to stop the rising tide of anger at Kuro from rising and taking me over. After all, I don’t think it would be very good if I lost it, shapeshifted and broke the helicopter on a rampage.
Suddenly I hear Luke’s thoughts – he really is an incredibly loud thinker, from the perspective that it’s almost like he’s shouting his thoughts for me to hear them and from the perspective that his face almost always gives away what he’s thinking – and, before he can vocalize them, I rise to my feet off the bed and face him.
“Luke,” I begin quietly, my eyes locking on his, “I won’t shapeshift in front of you, because I know that it won’t do any good and will only freak you out more.”
“You don’t scare me, Lizzie, and nothing you ever could be could ever scare me,” Luke tells me firmly, his eyes locked on mine as he rises to his feet to regain and use the four-inch height advantage he has on me.
I can’t help but smile bitterly at Luke’s comment, because it’s so obviously untrue – there are tons of things that I could become that could utterly terrify Luke – and I say, in a challenging, almost confrontational tone, “Oh really? You so sure about that?”
“Yeah, I am,” Luke replies, his eyes locked on mine as he takes full advantage of him being taller than me by literally staring me down.
“You’re an idiot then,” I tell him quietly after a moment of just meeting his gaze, and I turn away from him to sigh. If I weren’t as tame of an immortal – or at least an immortal that can tolerate humans, unlike Kuro – Luke would have been dead a long time ago.
“No, you’re the idiot for thinking I should be scared,” Luke tells me, and I whip around to look up at him in indignation and anger.
Me, the idiot? I mean, I know I’ve made a lot of stupid decisions over my seventeen years, but I’m definitely not making one now. In fact, he’s just made himself an idiot twice over by calling me an idiot when I could literally erase him from history! Besides, I know I’m right for refusing to shapeshift in front of him, because I don’t really want to scar my boyfriend/husband for the rest of his life.
“Lizzie, I will never be afraid of you because I trust you not to hurt me, even if you are as dangerous and frightening as you say you are,” Luke says quietly, his eyes boring holes into mine.
However, all of his attempts to manipulate me by using his steely ice-blue gaze are for naught, as I immediately reply, “Luke, trusting me is even more idiotic than wanting to see me in my real form, and it could get you killed just as quickly too.”
“Lizzie, I trust you with my life because you’ve earned that trust, so what I don’t get is why you don’t trust yourself,” Luke says, his gaze glued to mine, and, after a half-second of staring him down, I look away to stop him from seeing the doubt as to how to respond in my eyes.
Luke takes my silence as an opportunity to get heard out and adds, “Because that’s what this really comes down to, Lizzie; I mean, if you trusted yourself, you’d have no problem with me trusting you.” I turn back to look at him to have my eyes captured by his again, and I decide to let him keep on talking – mostly just because I like the sound of his voice, and the way my name rolls off of his tongue. “But what I don’t understand is why you don’t trust yourself, when you’ve done so many amazing things and kept so many promises-”
“I’ve kept my promises?” I exclaim incredulously, my gaze immediately hardening as it locks on his again. “Luke, if I had kept my promises, Marshall wouldn’t have died in One-Person or Team Survival, and Abby wouldn’t have died in One-Person or Team Survival, and I wouldn’t have let losing you for a while in Team Survival get to me so badly, and I would be dead three times over. Luke,” I say commandingly, “if I’ve done anything, it’s let down people, not keep my promises.”
“And I’m telling you, that’s not true!” Luke immediately shoots back. “You have kept so many promises, the biggest one of those being the unspoken one you made to the Sections, and the only reason you didn’t keep that promise to its end – your death – is because Max pulled us out of there before you could kill yourself! Lizzie, you are one of the most, if not the most, devoted and dedicated people I have ever met, so I don’t know how you could ever think that you let people down and don’t fulfill promises when you really do the exact opposite.”
I stare at him in dumbfounded disbelief for a few long, silent moments before finally realizing what he actually said to me and beginning to laugh bitterly.
Me, dedicated? That’s especially funny, considering it’s coming from the master of dedication himself. It just makes me wonder what the hell was Luke was thinking when he said that, or if he was even thinking at all. I mean, that is a blatantly false statement, and an idiotic one to boot, considering that it will never be true.
“Lizzie, why don’t you think you’re dedicated?” Luke asks me, and I stare at him blankly because I don’t know why he even needs to ask when the answer is so obvious. “I mean,” Luke continues, and I can’t help but smile bitterly as I wonder what justification Luke is going to come up for his ridiculous argument, “you were ready and willing to give your life up for a people you don’t even know just because you think they should have a chance at freedom, so am I missing something? Is that not dedication?”
I stare at him wordlessly for a few moments longer – to be perfectly honest, his argument makes so much sense that I have no idea how to respond – before finally formulating a rebuttal and saying, “Luke, devotion to a cause doesn’t matter as much as devotion to a person, and God knows I’m not devoted to a person. I mean, all you have to do is look at our relationship for proof of that.” I stare him down to have Luke shake his head in denial, and I take a deep breath as I prepare myself for the wearying, obviously fake points of my goodness Luke is going to throw at me.
“Lizzie, you were prepared to die to give the people of the Sections a chance at freedom, so how is that not devotion to people?” Luke asks me, and it’s my turn to shake my head in denial.
“Luke, what you’re missing is that I wasn’t really thinking about the people of the Sections when I volunteered to be the spark. I just wanted to defend freedom, and make a political statement that would prove to everyone there are some things worth dying for,” I tell him, confident that I’ve just won the argument, to have him immediately respond.
“Lizzie, you still ended up being undyingly devoted to the people of the Sections though!” Luke shoots back, which prompts me to immediately reply, “Not because I actually was trying to though!”
I then take advantage of the fact that Luke shuts up momentarily to add, “And the means, the intentions, matter, don’t they?” I stare him in the eye, daring him to deny his own words, to have him bow his head in defeat.
“You’re still devoted though,” Luke murmurs, and I shake my head and roll my eyes but wisely say nothing. Continuing to argue the point would get me nothing but irritated at him, and that’s the last thing I want right now.
A few seconds go by in silence, neither one of us really knowing what to say or even if we should say anything – after all, the silence is kind of nice, in my opinion – until my curiosity finally gets the best of me and I read Luke’s mind to find him wondering about if I actually meant the things I said to Jackson. However, I think I should let Luke ask those questions himself – and I don’t really want to let him know that I’ve been invading his mental privacy – so I keep my mouth shut and wait for Luke to say something.
Sure enough, it’s only a few moments longer before Luke looks over at me, and I look over at him to meet his gaze, and asks me, “Lizzie, I heard some of the things you said to Jackson, like that being in the arena with me had changed you, and I was wondering if you actually meant those things.” Luke seems almost abashed asking – I guess he thinks that I might be mad at him for eavesdropping – but he has no reason to be abashed. After all, when you’re dealing with things as odd as immortals, you have to ask your questions when they come to you or you’ll end up drowning in them.
“Luke, I wouldn’t have said them if I hadn’t meant them,” I say quietly, my eyes locked on his. “Those days are over.”
Luke nods his head in understanding, and a small smile begins to creep across his face despite his best efforts to fight it. I guess he’s happy to hear that he’s been steadily growing on me. “So do you really love me more than him, then?” Luke questions, willing me to answer with the sheer intensity of his gaze, and I nod my head yes and give him a small smile as I do so.
“You know, now that I look back, I don’t know how I could have ever loved him more than I love you,” I add quietly, my smile getting slightly bigger, and then lean forward to kiss Luke gently on the lips.
Immediately his arms lock around me and hold me to him, and he kisses me back urgently. After a few long moments of this, we both run out of breath and simultaneously pull back, at which time he looks down at me and gives me a genuine grin that lights up his eyes in a way that I haven’t seen in a while.
“You’ve missed me, huh?” I murmur quietly, my eyes locked on his, and he nods his head yes.
“You have no idea,” he replies quietly, and just stares down at me for a little while longer, just drinking in the fact that I’m there in front of him, before bending down and kissing me again, this time gentler but with just as much passion.
It’s a few more moments before we both pull back this time, and, when we do, I whisper, “I think I do.” I hadn’t realized how much I’d missed physical contact with Luke, even if it was for only a day, until now.
This brings a smile to Luke’s face, and he agrees, “Yeah, maybe you do.” He then leans forward to gently kiss me on the forehead. I lean into him, thoroughly enjoying the way his hard body presses against mine, and dreaming of just curling up with him and never leaving this room again.
A few peaceful, contented moments go by in silence until a very profound thought comes to me and I pull back to meet Luke’s gaze and tell him quietly, “You know, Luke, I think I’ve finally realized something that basically explains our whole relationship. You’re the means and I’m the end.”
“Very true. Very, very true,” Luke agrees quietly, his eyes locked on mine, and he bends down to kiss me gently one last time and hold me against him comfortingly.
I then continue to fantasize about staying in this room and just talking with Luke forever, only to be abruptly jolted out of these fantasies by a huge blast rocking the helicopter and sending both Luke and I sprawling onto his bed.

[loyal]

[Yay! I ship Luke&Lizzie. c: ]