Human Error

BOOK 2 // TWENTY-TWO: Before The World Ends

            The next ten days were relentless.

I knew they were going to be tough, the hours packed to burst with as much preparation as we could possibly squeeze in. The physical toll was to be expected, despite how much stronger I'd become since arriving in Birmingham, where manual labour and miles of walking were part of the daily routine. It was the mental impact I hadn't thought would be so weighty. Rapid was progress was not only expected, but non-negotiable; we had no option but to nail every skill, technique and detail, or somebody else's life could be on the line.

So, no pressure.

The days went quickly, too – slipping faster through my fingers the more I tried to keep hold of them. One minute, we were at the start of the journey, watching Nova's apprehensive demonstrations and taking shaky turns ourselves. The next, night had fallen on the evening we were due to leave.

Just twelve hours between now and what could be the beginning of the end.

Perhaps unsurprisingly, this thought didn't make it any easier to sleep, regardless of how loudly my fatigued body was crying out for a spot of rest. The exhaustion had long since crossed the boundary into terrified exhilaration. No matter how hard I tried, I couldn't let the tension seep out of my muscles long enough to let myself sink into the mattress; instead, I lay stiff as a board, staring at the ceiling.

Really, I knew where I was always going to end up.

So before long, I was out of my room and down the corridor.

Slipping into Jace's room was no longer an unusual occurrence, so I didn't wait for a muffled reply after the three quiet knocks on his door. In fact, it felt nothing less than routine as I crossed his room in the darkness, lifted up the covers and slid into bed beside him.

"Hey," came his voice, before I'd even said a word.

"Hey."

Without request, his arm shifted until it was around my shoulders, pulling me closer to his side. Close enough to smell the soap on his skin and the shampoo on his hair; I now took notice of the little details, like how he preferred evening showers, and scrubbed so hard with the plain bar soap it seemed to seep into his pores. Once upon a time, being wrapped up in his arms like this would've made my heart flutter – but now it felt as natural as breathing. It was funny how things could change.

"How are you feeling?" he asked softly.

I went to answer, but the words vanished at the last minute, coming out as a long breath instead. One that sounded even heavier against the night-time quietness. "I don't know," I said eventually. "Probably about the same as you right now."

My head bobbed with his soft chuckle. "That bad?"

"I'm holding up," I said. "Just about. It would be weirder if I was completely calm, right?"

"Yeah. That's true."

His voice trailed off, but his thumb had found the side of my arm, and the slow back-and-forth motion against my skin was confirmation enough that he was still present. There was also something loaded about the silence, and I knew more was on the way. "I just wanted to say," he said eventually, "that I really admire what you did. It was so brave."

"What do you mean?"

"Standing up to Nova," he said. "We wouldn't be doing all this tomorrow if it wasn't for you. There wasn't a plan to rescue Orla and the others. You fought for what was right, and you changed something."