When All is Null and Void

Chapter Nineteen

 When Titus sat with Natalee, lulled into the peace of her rest, he could ponder the deep topics. She was his sunset on a beach, the fascination which held him in a deep lock. The mystery of the girl who'd never talked to him, who might never look him in the eyes. He loved her in the way he only could, in the unknown, fabricated details of her existence; to say he actually loved her wasn't true. He hadn't ever lovedanyone, or even been close to anyone his age. Instead he longed for the idea of her friendship. For years now, while she'd grown in this sleeping chamber and observed her, Titus hoped she would wake up and smile at him. She knew things he couldn't tell anyone else--simply because there was no one else. He wanted her to know he had been here as her protector. He wanted to know what she was like, and who she truly was amidst the Void that threatened to consume her.

Tonight he'd come for help from Peggy. Seeing the collar of bruises, Peggy hadn't even attempted to inquire. She had simply pulled Titus to the back room and applied the goopy salve. The bruises were gone now, but Titus' trachea still trembled like loose paper where the life had nearly been snuffed from him.

"I got you the violin I told you about," he said from behind the glass. Peggy left him alone with Natalee twenty minutes ago because he'd asked her to. "I forgot it in my room, but I can bring it next time!" Somehow his voice was always bright and cheery when he talked to Natalee. He didn't think she could hear him even though the intercom was on.

Titus paced the length of the room, clacking his knuckles against the metal tables, and biting his lip. "Can you infect people with Void sickness?" he asked with an about face to the window. "Or are you infected with Void sickness? Is that what happens eventually? And you're just the one who got born with it?"

He shrugged when there was no reply and kept going. "I wonder where you'd go if you could just be free..."

Titus bit his lip. "I promise we'll help you." Walking until he numbed himself, Titus whispered, "Night, Nina," before powering down the lights and walking upstairs.

+++

"Mom, I want to know more." Titus' voice broke through the clatter of silver on china. They might have been eating breakfast at the same table, but Titus and Rhea were not eating together.

Rhea glanced up from her own oatmeal with raised eyebrows. "More about what?"

So consumed by thoughts of Void sick it hadn't even occurred to Titus that she wouldn't know what he meant. "About Void sickness," Titus offered up. He laid his spoon crossways on his own bowl, and a butler immediately swept it into the kitchen. "And what keeps us from helping them."

When the same butler had swept her bowl from the table, his mom wiped her lips with a napkin. "When we close the Void leaks, we arehelping by ensuring no other Timewalkers are affected by the disease."

"Yeah, but what about those who already have it?" Titus grimaced as he took a drink of his orange juice. Bile slid up his throat as the juice and remnants of his toothpaste collided in unholy matrimony.

Rhea thanked the butler who refilled her coffee cup. When he'd gone, she said, "We aretrying to help them," in a defensive sort of way that shot embarrassment through Titus.

His neck and ears warmed. "What are you doing, then?" Titus asked. He lowered his voice, though the staff always wore pods in their ears to block out the conversations that occurred in the dining room.

Rhea nodded. "I can show you." Her hesitance was evident. Titus could tell that she was hesitant. "You haven't seen a Timewalker with Void sickness, and I didn't really want you to." She took a breath and stood. "It's disturbing, but it's probably good for you to see."