Judaean | The Darkest Minds Fanfic

Chapter 5

I've just... had it.

　　My calm got me through most of the day—debriefs of Oasis, picking up Dr. Gray, even figuring out the sleeping arrangement for that carrot—with a smile on my face, but at ten in the evening, my sanity was wearing thin.

　　I know—I know—how bad of an idea it was to go down there when I'm like this, but it's not like I have a choice. Ruby surely wasn't that well off herself—her fight with Lee was so loud, half of the Ranch heard it. And somehow, letting the kid starve seemed to be an even worse option.

　　At least he didn't need me to fake a smile for him.

　　So I braced myself, and soldiered on. It was late, the dinner we had was long since been cleaned off the plates, so I took it upon myself to make the dinner—some bread, some ham, some lettuce, and I made it a point to grab a bag of crackers so I wouldn't have to go in there tomorrow morning, too.

　　He was still up when I got there, reading. I recognized the book by its cover—I brought that in for him two days ago—The Prince. I remembered it being mentioned in classes during high school, but much of it had escaped me.

　　"Oh, hey." He didn't look up from the pages. I walked towards his cell, and opened the slot to dump the food in.

　　"You're late today." He said, nose still buried in the book.

　　I didn't say anything, only walked away.

　　"What's wrong, Stewart?" He finally put down the damn book, and looked at me. "Did the operation not go according to plan?"

　　In a way. "Wouldn't you like to know?" I grunted. "It worked out fine."

　　"Then why the long face?" He asked, crossing his legs.

　　"Just eat your food." I snapped.

　　He sighed. "You should know, I only asked out of curtesy." He said, "I heard pretty much everything. Through the airduct." He pointed upward for emphasis. "Including the argument of the... not-so-happy couple."

　　"So?"

　　"I think you know by now—" He said, "—that your brother will be a liability. A dangerous one at that."

　　"Don't you dare talk about him." I seethed.

　　"But we must." He stressed, as if it was a truth, not an opinion. "You and Ruby refuse to face it because it's easier to not talk about it. It's easier to just let him be him, as long as he doesn't interfere with the grand plan. But you are wrong, because he will, whether you like it or not, and what happened last night proves it."

　　"I don't see how that's any of your business?"

　　"As long as you're keeping me here, it will be my business." He sighed, "As much as I hate it, I am only as secure as your plan allows me to be, and he is detrimental to your plan. In time, there will come a choice you'll have to make—to lose, or to cut him loose."

　　Something flash into my eyes at his words—a scene from a recurring nightmare—and for an instance, I couldn't feel my feet. The image of Liam's pale, lifeless blue eyes staring back at me from under thousands upon thousands of corpses. This dream started when he first left the League, torturing me for months on end, charring my bedsheets, reminding me of my mistake.

　　Cut him loose?

　　Before I realized what I was doing, I was inside his cell. My hands balled up on the front of his shirt, and I slammed him onto the glass. It didn't crack, even after the back of his head made contact with it in a shuddering thump.

　　"Ugh..." He groaned, a hand up, pushing me on my chest weakly. He was about a good six inches shorter than me, maybe more, and his toes were barely touching the ground. Our faces were inches apart, my breaths came out hot and musky between the small space. His hands traveled to my arms, and I couldn't tell if they were pushing or pulling anymore—his fingers pressed into my skin, his knuckles white, as he strained to keep himself standing.

　　He kept his words. It dawned on me. He didn't stop me with his ability. He let me do this to him.

　　For a brief second of heat-fueled madness, my eyes traced down from his eyes, past his nose, and...

　　I let go of him.

　　This is wrong. This is wrong... My hand came up to my forehead, and I didn't know what it was that stopped me from screaming. My throat was dry like it had been burnt, and my mind was racing—fuck, fuck, fuck, get out, get out, get out, get out—

　　He slid onto the floor, choking for air. I looked down to him—to his curled-up body and bowed head—and in that instance, the power of having him at my disposal no longer excites me, but rather, frightens me.

　　I let out a harsh breath through my nose, and with a trembling hand, helped him up.

　　I opened my mouth, but the blood was still roaring through my ear, I didn't know what to say. I'm sorry? Are you okay? Nothing sounds right. Everything sounds like feeble attempt to gloss over the gravity of what just happened.

　　"You don't have to." His hand came up to stop me as soon as he found his footing.

　　I looked down to my feet, and felt how odd it was to be in the presence of him without the sheet of glass between us. That he was no longer just a vivid moving image that comes with sound, but a person, with body heat, with heartbeats, with a scent...

　　I backed away, but didn't leave. Somehow, that didn't feel like the right thing to do.

　　"Shouldn't have said that." Finally, he leaned back on the glass, and said.

　　I let out a shaky breath. My hands were still twitching involuntarily, but I just let them. It's not like he can find out about me being Red twice.

　　"And I shouldn't have come in here." I said, backing away from his arms' reach, shifting towards the door, where I could once again pretend that he was nothing but a threateningly realistic three-dimensional projection.

　　He didn't say anything, just holding me in his gaze, carefully, and the longer he looked, the more I wanted to run. But a part of me had already realized it even if I wouldn't admit it—that there's no running from this. This... awareness, will follow me out of this cell, even if he won't.

　　"It's okay, you know." He started when my hand had found the edge of the door. "It's not something you need to be ashamed of."

　　How is it not? Not that I'm against anyone for being... but this is not just that. Other than being a Red, I had always been secured about myself, with what it meant to be me, and everything that the others added to my image—even gladly played along—until... this.

　　I all but escaped out of the door, and locked it behind me. I gave myself a second to swallow down the bile lodged in my throat, and made sure my breaths were even before turning around.

　　"I'll be back tomorrow." I announced. "I don't know when though, so pace yourself with those crackers."

　　On the other side of the glass, he held my gaze for a moment, and nodded.