Glass Planet

X A N D E R

They face each other, flame and ice. I unconsciously position myself in front of Emma, blocking her from Viva. I wish I could say something to diffuse the tension, but I'm never good with words. Out of the corner of my eye, I can see Emma silently taking note of my position in front of her, and giving a small, almost imperceptible, approving nod. All at once, I feel disgusted by it. Dad. Emma. Always judging and seeing and testing and analyzing my every move. Making sure that Emma can see, I step right out from between them. In Viva's eyes, I can see the hint of desperation peeking through the anger, and behind the steely girl, I see the unfortunate survivor.

"Back off, Emma," I say.

"None of this is your fault," I say to Viva. A look of fury flashes across Emma's face like a bolt of lightning, and then it fades back into the cold, calculated expression she's developed over the years. Looking at her now, I don't see my sister.

I see a machine.

"You're right, Xander," she hisses. "It's not her fault, it's yours. What were you thinking? Do you have no idea what Dad's going to do to make you keep your end of the deal?" Rage courses through my veins like electricity. "I wasn't going to leave her like that. She didn't deserve to die on a road as chemicals tore her sanity, her brain, into a million damn pieces!"

"I don't care what happens to her," Emma spits savagely. "I care that our father's gonna ruin your life for this!" My hands shake from the effort of not curling into fists. I know Emma's worried about me, but she has no right to...

"Dad can go fu-"

"Xander." Viva is a step closer to me now, and I'm surprised to see gentleness in her eyes. She now turns to face Emma.

"I'll go," she says. "I will go. I'll get out of both of your lives. I never wanted to be here anyway." I sigh inwardly. She's not really helping my case. But then again, do I want her here? Do I want her to leave so I can continue with my uneventful, and let's face it, safe life? Or do I want her to stay so my life can finally have something interesting? Or worse; am I keeping her here because I have something to prove? Am I just keeping a person against her will so I can prove that I'm not an unprepared boy anymore? I almost say, "Don't leave," but I stop myself. What could Viva Ross possibly do for me? However, it's Emma who says what I want to say.

"You can't."

~

Dad's on a business trip to Titanium City, and Emma decided to go hang out with Maggie and Aliyah after all, because apparently yelling at me didn't take as long as expected. Viva's retreated back to the room I left her in when she first came here, and I stand alone in the kitchen long after Emma's left, with one perfunctory glance before she shut the door. I walk quietly over to the countertop, where someone's left an old map of the United States. San Francisco, I think, putting my finger on the spot where Glass Planet is now. My eyes dart over to the other side of the country. In Titanium City's place, there's New York City. I've always wanted to go there. D.C. is the same. As my eyes skim the coast of California, I find myself thinking about our trip to Los Angeles a few years ago. I was fourteen, Emma was thirteen. I find myself thinking about the expanse of the ocean at the end of the Santa Monica Pier, and I swallow. Thinking about the ocean induces a fear in me that I didn't think was humanly possible. I hear a thud and crackling from upstairs, and I'm bolting up the stairs, calling Viva's name. She lies on her back, blood trickling from her mouth. She gasps like she was just pulled out of the water in the last seconds before she drowned. "Viva..." I look up to the window, the unbreakable window, and see enormous cracks spiraling out of the center like lightning.

~

"You did it."

"No, I didn't." Viva lies on my bed, a bloody tissue in her hands. "Then how did it happen?" I ask. "That window was made of a material so strong, nothing in that room should've been able to break it." She glares at my window, as if she wants to break that as well. Her body folds, and she yelps with pain. I move towards her, but she shakes her head vigorously. "No, don't come, don't come near me, don't, don't, DON'T!" I hear a sound near a crack and a snap, and turn to see that all of the wooden pencils in my desk have broken in half.

Meanwhile, Viva lies motionless on the bed, sobs of pain racking her body. I tentatively take a step closer and swallow. Her shirt is pulled up slightly and I can see the spot I stitched. Next to that injury, before my very eyes, another scar appears as if being she's being cut and healed by an invisible knife.

(A/N sorry about the short chapter)