Wilde Card, page 53
So, yes, Tia was finding it hard to reconcile these memories with the idea of Harry holding Jessie, kissing her, making her smile. It was the thing that tortured her most: the images. She pictured Jessie’s every declaration to Andy, a lie. Every touch, a space filler. Every promise, a betrayal. And if no one was going to be on her father’s side, then she had to be, right? She had a duty to him, and she would carry it out. He never prioritised anything over her, and she would return the favour. Harry, as nice as he had been to her, was a vulture swooping down on the remains of her family. Not content with stealing Jessie from Andy, he was stealing her from Tia too.
Immature logic, she knew, but accurate.
“Are you dating Harry now?” Tia mused.
Often, when she came home now it was to find Jessie on the phone, laughing like a schoolgirl. She was always surprised to see Tia, as if she had forgotten that another person lived in the house. Dinner - which had always been the one constant in Tia’s life - seemed to be an option now. She spent most of her time in the Tunnels, reading away into the night or sparring with new partners every day, picking her way through the night owls. She kept herself busy so that she didn’t have to see the lovesick eyes Harry made as he walked through the halls, or the way he smiled at everyone. He practically skipped.
She had tried to think about it from his point of view; how long he had been alone, waiting for a miracle he didn’t know could exist. Andy’s death was the change in the rhythm that had freed Harry from his own prison. How sickening was that? And that was why she couldn’t accept him. Not yet, if ever.
Jessie hesitated. “How did this become about me? You’re lying in an infirmary. When was the last time your wound was cleaned?”
“Answer the question or leave. I’m sure Harry is around here somewhere.”
That hurt. Jessie’s breath was a rush into the open air, her cheeks flaring up. “If he were here, he would have been by your side the whole night. He sees you like-”
“If you say like a daughter, I will throw up.”
“You’re acting like a child,” Jessie snapped. Even her patience had its limits. Tia wondered, briefly, if she had ranted to Harry about her daughter’s stubborn behaviour. How long had that conversation lasted, she thought, before they had moved on?
“And you’re acting like a lovesick teenager,” she shot back. “You could be here, helping the cause, helping to avenge your husband. Instead you’re dating, sending sickening love letters and making empty promises.”
The look Jessie gave her then was strange. She stood up, slowly, still looking down at Tia. A hand found its way to her own forehead, and she pressed the palm to her skin as if she were trying to take her own temperature. Beneath it, she frowned. “What happened to you? When did you become so bitter? I didn’t raise you to be like this, Valentia. I raised you to love, to be loved...to be compassionate to the world around you.”
Tia snorted. “I grew up.”
“These walls are consuming you. Like they did your father. If you’re not careful, you’ll become more revolution than human. Is that what you want?”
“At least I’ll be alive. Some things have to be sacrificed-”
“Sacrifice? What would you know of sacrifice?”
“Your generation are not the only ones who can do that, you know.”
Jessie looked stricken. “What are you giving up for this place?”
Tia didn't answer, not sure how she would go about explaining the whole year that had just passed. But her mother didn’t need the answer apparently. Jessie’s hands stilled and a knowing look gave her face an ominous glow.
“Talia.” She shook her head. “She has loved you for years. I thought you were finally growing up, making good decisions. The woman that I raised would either put her out of her misery, or finally allow her to love her. If this Rebellion is forcing you to choose between duty and happiness, then you’re not paying attention.”
The fact that Jessie was resorting to emotional blackmail to rouse her...was surreal. She wondered - briefly - if Taliah had said something to her mother. But she remembered her pride, that she would never do anything like that. Still, the comment about having loved Tia for years was very dramatic and caused her to think of their stand-off earlier. That alone annoyed her all over again. She grimaced, turning it into a full glare that she felt Jessie deserved.
“Oh, God, don’t lecture me.”
“I’m trying to help you!”
“I have better things to do! I won’t let myself get distracted like you.”
She bit back the rest: that Andy had been distracted, holding himself back for the safety of his family, letting the bloc get away with their experiments. And now look where they all were. Jessie drew herself upright, her eyes hardening into gold flecked fury. “I’m happy, Valentia. It’s been nearly a year since your father’s death. If you don’t let go of that anger you’re holding so tightly onto, you’ll become no better than Anya. And we all know what that looks like.”
Tia didn’t have a chance to say anything - a crushing reply that would have broken their bond for good, probably. She was too drugged up to have any real inhibitions. She had stopped herself once already and even that had taken a lot of energy out of her. Someone politely cleared their throat in the doorway. Eliza stood just inside the room, her arms filled with towels, packs and bowls. She wasn’t the type to interrupt a conversation, so she had definitely done it on purpose. Tia tried to ignore her relief.
“Hello, Mrs Wildehurst. I’ve come to change Tia’s dressings.”
Jessie tried to smile back but it didn’t reach her eyes, barely even her mouth. Tia had noticed on several occasions that she grimaced every time she heard her father’s birthright. It made Tia angry to see how easily she could disown something as important like that. Her father was a legend. He had built something up from the ground and died fighting for it. How did you grow up under an influence like that and end up like this? Weak. Missguided. Woefully ignorant.
Eliza still stood in the doorway, her face arranged into pleasant blandness. She showed no signs of leaving, not even to give mother and daughter another moment. Frustrated, Jessie simply left, refusing to look back at the glowering mass of pain in the bed behind her. A few seconds passed - Eliza watching Tia, Tia watching Eliza.
“You’re a lot more sly than anyone gives you credit for,” Tia eventually said, letting her head fall back. Cracks ran through the ceiling much in the way rivers converged into the ocean. They differed in size, the wide cracks overlaid by the thin ones outraced by the wide ones again. She wanted to stand on the bed and feel them, just to see if they went beyond the surface. She wanted to know what secrets she could pull out of them.
Moments later, a cool hand pressed stray hairs away and settled on her forehead. A smile flirted along plump lips. “You could both use the time out.”
Eliza, such a calm presence, with her flame-red hair and gentle eyes. She was the only person so far who hadn’t looked back at Tia with exhaustion. Well-rested, her palor was creamy and welcoming. She wore plain leggings and an oversized jumper that was vaguely familiar. Eliza never seemed to overheat, not like Tia who was constantly sweating in these tunnels. She pushed herself back up, bringing her shoulder forward. She was glad it wasn’t Anya who had come to clean her up.
“Do you want to shower first?” Eliza mused. “So I don’t have to change them twice.”
Tia practically drooled at the thought of hot water hitting her skin, of being clean. She leaned into Eliza as they shuffled to the small bathroom at the end of the infirmary. It hadn’t been used in so long that several cobwebs gleamed in the harsh glow of the overhead light, but she barely noticed as she turned the head on. The water was actually thin and lukewarm but she allowed her dirty clothes to fall to the floor, supporting herself against the wall as grime and blood were washed down the drain. It was slow going because the stream was so weak. She couldn’t really scrub at her skin without crying out, so she settled for an awkward shimmy under the spray. She shook her hair out and let the water do what it could. She would have asked for soap but she didn’t want to wait for Eliza to locate some. It wasn’t great, but at least she felt human again.
When she emerged, Eliza was changing the bedsheets. She looked over her shoulder and saw Tia, barefoot and shivering. Frowning, she lifted up the blanket and gestured for Tia to climb back in. There was something very maternal in the action. “The last thing you need is a cold.”
“I never get sick,” Tia boasted as she leaned over to inspect the wound.
“I bet you hadn’t ever been stabbed, either,” the girl said.
Tia gaped. “Did you just make a joke?” In the whole time she had known her, Tia had never heard her make a joke. Or, thinking about it, draw unnecessary attention to herself at all. She was quiet on all fronts, and more likely to watch a situation then get involved. Where Raghida was all explosive energy and aggression, she was soft and calculating. Not weak, but observant. She knew where her strengths were, and they were better reserved for more intelligent manoeuvres, apparently.
Eliza flushed and didn’t reply. She picked some unavoidable debris out of the wound in Tia’s shoulder, tittering the whole time. “What were you guys arguing about?”
“Oh. Urm.” Tia saw her focused expression. “Just unimportant stuff.”
“Didn’t seem unimportant to me.”
Was she being nosy? It was the most they had ever spoken in one go. Tia laughed, though it was without humour. What the heck. “She wants to date.”
“And your father died recently.”
Tia was shocked at how blunt the girl was; it was the kind of observation that Talia would have made. She opened her mouth to say something - anything. But then her shoulder flared up and she hissed, looking down to see that Eliza was pressing alcohol to it. Oh. “You’re so good at this distracting thing.” And she laughed, this time for real.
“I am also curious, but I apologise if I’m pushing.”
There was a gentle tugging as the cotton pad was pulled away from her skin and it adhered to the material. She gulped and forced her head away. She didn’t want to pass out again - she had had enough of that. “I didn’t know you were into medicine.”
EIiza didn’t mention the change of topic, and didn’t seem to mind either. She shrugged as he pulled out another cotton pad and doused it in alcohol from a clear plastic bottle. At some point she had donned a pair of surgical gloves and the white of her hands was so pale that the latex almost blended straight into her wrists. “I’m not.”
“Urm…”
“My mother is a doctor. So I must be a doctor.”
It was the strangest thing, but Tia could have sworn she heard disatisfaction in her voice. Eliza didn’t seem the type to argue or disagree with anything but it was clear as day to see. She was unhappy with this choice. But if it was so plain to see, then how come Anya couldn’t see it for herself? She had given birth to the girl, raised her, lived with her. At this point, it was just sheer laziness.
Tia raised an eyebrow. “And what do you want?”
Eliza lifted her eyes to meet Tia’s. She seemed confused by the question, as if it was being spoken in foreign words. Wanting versus doing; a notion she was clearly unfamiliar with. “I don’t know.” She carried on swabbing and the stinging sensation soon faded into the background. Tia’s mind was busy with other things, mainly wondering how Eliza would ever explain her relationship if Anya found out. If instructed to break it off, would she stand her ground? Or would she do what her mother wanted, once again? Tia was reminded of Kal and his ever trusting faith in doing ‘the right thing’- even if that meant suffering. Why were mothers so demanding?
She tried another topic. “I never see you fight.”
“I don’t fight.”
“Sparring is compulsory now.”
“I surrender every time.”
The idea of surrendering made her feel slightly nauseous. Good God, imagine that. She had never backed down from confrontation in her life. She didn’t know how to. It was in her blood, that natural compulsion to win and conquer. She observed Eliza as she worked, head bent close to criss-crossed stitches. She was soft spoken, soft everything...what would it take to push her to breaking point? Did she even have one? Everyone had a limit, even kind-hearted Eliza.
“So why join the Rebellion? If you won’t fight?” Tia demanded.
“It wasn’t really my choice.”
“Don’t you feel suffocated?”
“Have you ever watched a live clip of a battle?” Eliza surprised her by asking.
“Can’t say that I have.”
Eliza sat back and removed her gloves, the latex snapping against her hands. She dropped them into a metal bowl and dusted her skin off. She smiled, gently, encouragingly. “A battle consists of many things,right? Your leaders, soldiers, allies, weapons, formations, landscape. But those soldiers would die instantly without a plan, without those formations, without intel. Weapons are useless if you don’t know where you’re aiming them.”
“Go on.”
“During the Cold War, the US tried to overthrow Castro using exiles from his own country. The Bay of Pigs, heard of it?”
Tia squinted. “Vaguely. Science student over here - I was never great at history.”
Eliza laughed and it was little more substantial than air. “Well, it failed. The plan fell apart faster than their reputation. They were outnumbered and outmanoeuvred. They had soldiers, they had weapons. But their strategy was a disaster. They were doomed from the start. Without strategy, you don’t have a battle: just a massacre.”
“So you’re saying...you’re not a fighter, you’re a thinker.”
“Hey, no one ever accused you of being slow.”
Tia gaped as she pulled on a fresh pair of gloves. “You just made two jokes within the same month! Are we like best friends now or…?.”
The girl flushed again, to the very tips of her ears. With her red hair, it made her look like a tomato. She started to wrap a fresh bandage around Tia’s shoulder. “I just don’t see the need to talk when I’m around you and Jay. You both talk enough for me.”
“You should definitely talk more,” Tia exclaimed. “I never say anything that doesn’t involve my anger and he has nothing interesting to say that doesn’t involve his stomach or his looks.”
They laughed together at this very accurate observation. They then lapsed into a comfortable silence as Eliza finished up. She passed over a fresh pile of gear and helped Tia dress, wrapping the damp towel around her hair. Then she handed over a handful of protein bars she had grabbed from the supplies room. Tia tore into one, chewing long and hard with each bite. They were terrible but she was ravenous and hadn’t realised it until the first bite hit her empty stomach.
“Have one.” Tia poked Eliza with a bar. Almost shyly, Eliza ate with her, making faces at the bitter aftertaste. They washed the taste down with bottled water. She realised that they had never been alone, not since her first day. There was a calming presence about Eliza that she liked. It was like being inside a bubble, pushing aside all of her anger and her sadness. That was, of course, until she remembered.
“You should stand up to her, you know.” Tia said suddenly, staring into her empty bottle. Silence. She raised her head to see her new friend picking at her own leggings. “Eliza?”
“She’s all I’ve got. And I’m not strong like you. I don’t want to lose her. If I don’t do what she wants me to do and walk the path she’s paved for me, then she won’t want me anymore.”
“She’s your mother. She wouldn’t dare. And I would kick her from here to hell if she did.” Tia caught the look Eliza levelled at her. “Okay, sorry, that’s your mum. But you know what I mean.”
“I am happy to do this for her.”
“You are not. She controls your whole life! She wants what’s best for her, not what’s good for you.”
“Tia, some things are just not worth fighting for.”
The statement was a fact, apparently. She paused, considering it. Some things...such as what? If Jessie was correct, then love was definitely worth fighting for. But over fifteen years of marriage...wasn’t? Other people were worth fighting for...but not their feelings? The world didn’t make sense when you broke it down into all its morals and realities. She was tired of spinning around in circles, trying to work it out. Much in the same way Talia forced her emotions to fluctuate.
Tia tried to push her from her mind but she seemed to expand instead, taking up all her thinking space. The furrow in the middle of her forehead, in particular. Tia still couldn’t believe that she had gone straight to Jessie. She would have been dragging her feet, close to falling onto her face, and limping. And still. Tia scowled at her own soft-heartedness. If Talia thought that one small act of kindness would bring Tia to forget her transgressions…
Tia remembered her words. Her anguish. The quiet acceptance.
“I’m going to head to the canteen for some real food.” Eliza interrupted her thoughts. She came back to reality, blinking hard. “Do you need anything else?”
“I-urm,” she stammered. “I need to find Marcus. I think I’ll go to the library.”
Eliza protested. “You need to rest more.”
“Please. If I have one more visitor, I’ll scream.”
◆◆◆
Tia found the library empty, which was no surprise at this time in the morning. After the protein bars, she felt much more capable of supporting her own weight. Her legs were like two matchsticks beneath her but it was her shoulder that was really trying to drag her under. She ignored the pain the best she could and lowered herself into the seat opposite Marcus. He had watched her approach without offering help, something that she greatly appreciated. At least one goddamn man in these tunnels doesn’t see me as a damsel.
“Wilde-fox,” he inclined his head. His hair exploded all over his head and his shirt was creased in every single place it could be. He looked pleasantly rumpled.
“Do you ever go home?” Tia asked.
He smiled, his jowls lifting into genuine amusement. He closed his book, marking the page with his finger. “Do you?”
Immature logic, she knew, but accurate.
“Are you dating Harry now?” Tia mused.
Often, when she came home now it was to find Jessie on the phone, laughing like a schoolgirl. She was always surprised to see Tia, as if she had forgotten that another person lived in the house. Dinner - which had always been the one constant in Tia’s life - seemed to be an option now. She spent most of her time in the Tunnels, reading away into the night or sparring with new partners every day, picking her way through the night owls. She kept herself busy so that she didn’t have to see the lovesick eyes Harry made as he walked through the halls, or the way he smiled at everyone. He practically skipped.
She had tried to think about it from his point of view; how long he had been alone, waiting for a miracle he didn’t know could exist. Andy’s death was the change in the rhythm that had freed Harry from his own prison. How sickening was that? And that was why she couldn’t accept him. Not yet, if ever.
Jessie hesitated. “How did this become about me? You’re lying in an infirmary. When was the last time your wound was cleaned?”
“Answer the question or leave. I’m sure Harry is around here somewhere.”
That hurt. Jessie’s breath was a rush into the open air, her cheeks flaring up. “If he were here, he would have been by your side the whole night. He sees you like-”
“If you say like a daughter, I will throw up.”
“You’re acting like a child,” Jessie snapped. Even her patience had its limits. Tia wondered, briefly, if she had ranted to Harry about her daughter’s stubborn behaviour. How long had that conversation lasted, she thought, before they had moved on?
“And you’re acting like a lovesick teenager,” she shot back. “You could be here, helping the cause, helping to avenge your husband. Instead you’re dating, sending sickening love letters and making empty promises.”
The look Jessie gave her then was strange. She stood up, slowly, still looking down at Tia. A hand found its way to her own forehead, and she pressed the palm to her skin as if she were trying to take her own temperature. Beneath it, she frowned. “What happened to you? When did you become so bitter? I didn’t raise you to be like this, Valentia. I raised you to love, to be loved...to be compassionate to the world around you.”
Tia snorted. “I grew up.”
“These walls are consuming you. Like they did your father. If you’re not careful, you’ll become more revolution than human. Is that what you want?”
“At least I’ll be alive. Some things have to be sacrificed-”
“Sacrifice? What would you know of sacrifice?”
“Your generation are not the only ones who can do that, you know.”
Jessie looked stricken. “What are you giving up for this place?”
Tia didn't answer, not sure how she would go about explaining the whole year that had just passed. But her mother didn’t need the answer apparently. Jessie’s hands stilled and a knowing look gave her face an ominous glow.
“Talia.” She shook her head. “She has loved you for years. I thought you were finally growing up, making good decisions. The woman that I raised would either put her out of her misery, or finally allow her to love her. If this Rebellion is forcing you to choose between duty and happiness, then you’re not paying attention.”
The fact that Jessie was resorting to emotional blackmail to rouse her...was surreal. She wondered - briefly - if Taliah had said something to her mother. But she remembered her pride, that she would never do anything like that. Still, the comment about having loved Tia for years was very dramatic and caused her to think of their stand-off earlier. That alone annoyed her all over again. She grimaced, turning it into a full glare that she felt Jessie deserved.
“Oh, God, don’t lecture me.”
“I’m trying to help you!”
“I have better things to do! I won’t let myself get distracted like you.”
She bit back the rest: that Andy had been distracted, holding himself back for the safety of his family, letting the bloc get away with their experiments. And now look where they all were. Jessie drew herself upright, her eyes hardening into gold flecked fury. “I’m happy, Valentia. It’s been nearly a year since your father’s death. If you don’t let go of that anger you’re holding so tightly onto, you’ll become no better than Anya. And we all know what that looks like.”
Tia didn’t have a chance to say anything - a crushing reply that would have broken their bond for good, probably. She was too drugged up to have any real inhibitions. She had stopped herself once already and even that had taken a lot of energy out of her. Someone politely cleared their throat in the doorway. Eliza stood just inside the room, her arms filled with towels, packs and bowls. She wasn’t the type to interrupt a conversation, so she had definitely done it on purpose. Tia tried to ignore her relief.
“Hello, Mrs Wildehurst. I’ve come to change Tia’s dressings.”
Jessie tried to smile back but it didn’t reach her eyes, barely even her mouth. Tia had noticed on several occasions that she grimaced every time she heard her father’s birthright. It made Tia angry to see how easily she could disown something as important like that. Her father was a legend. He had built something up from the ground and died fighting for it. How did you grow up under an influence like that and end up like this? Weak. Missguided. Woefully ignorant.
Eliza still stood in the doorway, her face arranged into pleasant blandness. She showed no signs of leaving, not even to give mother and daughter another moment. Frustrated, Jessie simply left, refusing to look back at the glowering mass of pain in the bed behind her. A few seconds passed - Eliza watching Tia, Tia watching Eliza.
“You’re a lot more sly than anyone gives you credit for,” Tia eventually said, letting her head fall back. Cracks ran through the ceiling much in the way rivers converged into the ocean. They differed in size, the wide cracks overlaid by the thin ones outraced by the wide ones again. She wanted to stand on the bed and feel them, just to see if they went beyond the surface. She wanted to know what secrets she could pull out of them.
Moments later, a cool hand pressed stray hairs away and settled on her forehead. A smile flirted along plump lips. “You could both use the time out.”
Eliza, such a calm presence, with her flame-red hair and gentle eyes. She was the only person so far who hadn’t looked back at Tia with exhaustion. Well-rested, her palor was creamy and welcoming. She wore plain leggings and an oversized jumper that was vaguely familiar. Eliza never seemed to overheat, not like Tia who was constantly sweating in these tunnels. She pushed herself back up, bringing her shoulder forward. She was glad it wasn’t Anya who had come to clean her up.
“Do you want to shower first?” Eliza mused. “So I don’t have to change them twice.”
Tia practically drooled at the thought of hot water hitting her skin, of being clean. She leaned into Eliza as they shuffled to the small bathroom at the end of the infirmary. It hadn’t been used in so long that several cobwebs gleamed in the harsh glow of the overhead light, but she barely noticed as she turned the head on. The water was actually thin and lukewarm but she allowed her dirty clothes to fall to the floor, supporting herself against the wall as grime and blood were washed down the drain. It was slow going because the stream was so weak. She couldn’t really scrub at her skin without crying out, so she settled for an awkward shimmy under the spray. She shook her hair out and let the water do what it could. She would have asked for soap but she didn’t want to wait for Eliza to locate some. It wasn’t great, but at least she felt human again.
When she emerged, Eliza was changing the bedsheets. She looked over her shoulder and saw Tia, barefoot and shivering. Frowning, she lifted up the blanket and gestured for Tia to climb back in. There was something very maternal in the action. “The last thing you need is a cold.”
“I never get sick,” Tia boasted as she leaned over to inspect the wound.
“I bet you hadn’t ever been stabbed, either,” the girl said.
Tia gaped. “Did you just make a joke?” In the whole time she had known her, Tia had never heard her make a joke. Or, thinking about it, draw unnecessary attention to herself at all. She was quiet on all fronts, and more likely to watch a situation then get involved. Where Raghida was all explosive energy and aggression, she was soft and calculating. Not weak, but observant. She knew where her strengths were, and they were better reserved for more intelligent manoeuvres, apparently.
Eliza flushed and didn’t reply. She picked some unavoidable debris out of the wound in Tia’s shoulder, tittering the whole time. “What were you guys arguing about?”
“Oh. Urm.” Tia saw her focused expression. “Just unimportant stuff.”
“Didn’t seem unimportant to me.”
Was she being nosy? It was the most they had ever spoken in one go. Tia laughed, though it was without humour. What the heck. “She wants to date.”
“And your father died recently.”
Tia was shocked at how blunt the girl was; it was the kind of observation that Talia would have made. She opened her mouth to say something - anything. But then her shoulder flared up and she hissed, looking down to see that Eliza was pressing alcohol to it. Oh. “You’re so good at this distracting thing.” And she laughed, this time for real.
“I am also curious, but I apologise if I’m pushing.”
There was a gentle tugging as the cotton pad was pulled away from her skin and it adhered to the material. She gulped and forced her head away. She didn’t want to pass out again - she had had enough of that. “I didn’t know you were into medicine.”
EIiza didn’t mention the change of topic, and didn’t seem to mind either. She shrugged as he pulled out another cotton pad and doused it in alcohol from a clear plastic bottle. At some point she had donned a pair of surgical gloves and the white of her hands was so pale that the latex almost blended straight into her wrists. “I’m not.”
“Urm…”
“My mother is a doctor. So I must be a doctor.”
It was the strangest thing, but Tia could have sworn she heard disatisfaction in her voice. Eliza didn’t seem the type to argue or disagree with anything but it was clear as day to see. She was unhappy with this choice. But if it was so plain to see, then how come Anya couldn’t see it for herself? She had given birth to the girl, raised her, lived with her. At this point, it was just sheer laziness.
Tia raised an eyebrow. “And what do you want?”
Eliza lifted her eyes to meet Tia’s. She seemed confused by the question, as if it was being spoken in foreign words. Wanting versus doing; a notion she was clearly unfamiliar with. “I don’t know.” She carried on swabbing and the stinging sensation soon faded into the background. Tia’s mind was busy with other things, mainly wondering how Eliza would ever explain her relationship if Anya found out. If instructed to break it off, would she stand her ground? Or would she do what her mother wanted, once again? Tia was reminded of Kal and his ever trusting faith in doing ‘the right thing’- even if that meant suffering. Why were mothers so demanding?
She tried another topic. “I never see you fight.”
“I don’t fight.”
“Sparring is compulsory now.”
“I surrender every time.”
The idea of surrendering made her feel slightly nauseous. Good God, imagine that. She had never backed down from confrontation in her life. She didn’t know how to. It was in her blood, that natural compulsion to win and conquer. She observed Eliza as she worked, head bent close to criss-crossed stitches. She was soft spoken, soft everything...what would it take to push her to breaking point? Did she even have one? Everyone had a limit, even kind-hearted Eliza.
“So why join the Rebellion? If you won’t fight?” Tia demanded.
“It wasn’t really my choice.”
“Don’t you feel suffocated?”
“Have you ever watched a live clip of a battle?” Eliza surprised her by asking.
“Can’t say that I have.”
Eliza sat back and removed her gloves, the latex snapping against her hands. She dropped them into a metal bowl and dusted her skin off. She smiled, gently, encouragingly. “A battle consists of many things,right? Your leaders, soldiers, allies, weapons, formations, landscape. But those soldiers would die instantly without a plan, without those formations, without intel. Weapons are useless if you don’t know where you’re aiming them.”
“Go on.”
“During the Cold War, the US tried to overthrow Castro using exiles from his own country. The Bay of Pigs, heard of it?”
Tia squinted. “Vaguely. Science student over here - I was never great at history.”
Eliza laughed and it was little more substantial than air. “Well, it failed. The plan fell apart faster than their reputation. They were outnumbered and outmanoeuvred. They had soldiers, they had weapons. But their strategy was a disaster. They were doomed from the start. Without strategy, you don’t have a battle: just a massacre.”
“So you’re saying...you’re not a fighter, you’re a thinker.”
“Hey, no one ever accused you of being slow.”
Tia gaped as she pulled on a fresh pair of gloves. “You just made two jokes within the same month! Are we like best friends now or…?.”
The girl flushed again, to the very tips of her ears. With her red hair, it made her look like a tomato. She started to wrap a fresh bandage around Tia’s shoulder. “I just don’t see the need to talk when I’m around you and Jay. You both talk enough for me.”
“You should definitely talk more,” Tia exclaimed. “I never say anything that doesn’t involve my anger and he has nothing interesting to say that doesn’t involve his stomach or his looks.”
They laughed together at this very accurate observation. They then lapsed into a comfortable silence as Eliza finished up. She passed over a fresh pile of gear and helped Tia dress, wrapping the damp towel around her hair. Then she handed over a handful of protein bars she had grabbed from the supplies room. Tia tore into one, chewing long and hard with each bite. They were terrible but she was ravenous and hadn’t realised it until the first bite hit her empty stomach.
“Have one.” Tia poked Eliza with a bar. Almost shyly, Eliza ate with her, making faces at the bitter aftertaste. They washed the taste down with bottled water. She realised that they had never been alone, not since her first day. There was a calming presence about Eliza that she liked. It was like being inside a bubble, pushing aside all of her anger and her sadness. That was, of course, until she remembered.
“You should stand up to her, you know.” Tia said suddenly, staring into her empty bottle. Silence. She raised her head to see her new friend picking at her own leggings. “Eliza?”
“She’s all I’ve got. And I’m not strong like you. I don’t want to lose her. If I don’t do what she wants me to do and walk the path she’s paved for me, then she won’t want me anymore.”
“She’s your mother. She wouldn’t dare. And I would kick her from here to hell if she did.” Tia caught the look Eliza levelled at her. “Okay, sorry, that’s your mum. But you know what I mean.”
“I am happy to do this for her.”
“You are not. She controls your whole life! She wants what’s best for her, not what’s good for you.”
“Tia, some things are just not worth fighting for.”
The statement was a fact, apparently. She paused, considering it. Some things...such as what? If Jessie was correct, then love was definitely worth fighting for. But over fifteen years of marriage...wasn’t? Other people were worth fighting for...but not their feelings? The world didn’t make sense when you broke it down into all its morals and realities. She was tired of spinning around in circles, trying to work it out. Much in the same way Talia forced her emotions to fluctuate.
Tia tried to push her from her mind but she seemed to expand instead, taking up all her thinking space. The furrow in the middle of her forehead, in particular. Tia still couldn’t believe that she had gone straight to Jessie. She would have been dragging her feet, close to falling onto her face, and limping. And still. Tia scowled at her own soft-heartedness. If Talia thought that one small act of kindness would bring Tia to forget her transgressions…
Tia remembered her words. Her anguish. The quiet acceptance.
“I’m going to head to the canteen for some real food.” Eliza interrupted her thoughts. She came back to reality, blinking hard. “Do you need anything else?”
“I-urm,” she stammered. “I need to find Marcus. I think I’ll go to the library.”
Eliza protested. “You need to rest more.”
“Please. If I have one more visitor, I’ll scream.”
◆◆◆
Tia found the library empty, which was no surprise at this time in the morning. After the protein bars, she felt much more capable of supporting her own weight. Her legs were like two matchsticks beneath her but it was her shoulder that was really trying to drag her under. She ignored the pain the best she could and lowered herself into the seat opposite Marcus. He had watched her approach without offering help, something that she greatly appreciated. At least one goddamn man in these tunnels doesn’t see me as a damsel.
“Wilde-fox,” he inclined his head. His hair exploded all over his head and his shirt was creased in every single place it could be. He looked pleasantly rumpled.
“Do you ever go home?” Tia asked.
He smiled, his jowls lifting into genuine amusement. He closed his book, marking the page with his finger. “Do you?”
