For a time, it was hard to remember where and when I was. All I knew was that I had been under great strain, enduring great pain, but that made little sense. Right now, I was warm and comfortable and content beyond imagining.
I was with.…
I first identified the smell: Sarah’s scent, swimming around me, enveloping me in its cool, clear embrace. Far, far closer than I was used to.
And then I felt the small body pressed against my side, unmistakable even through at least a couple layers of blankets.
But instead of waking me up, that jolt of adrenaline drug me back into that dark place, that place in which I had curled up in agony at her loss while something else used my body to rage and destroy.
I gasped for air, eyes blinking open but unable to see clearly. All I saw were blurs. All I could remember was that pain.…
I struggled to breathe, clenched my fists, fought the urge to burn.…
“Ben, Ben!”
First Sarah’s sleep-cracked voice pierced through my fog and then her face filled my vision. Suddenly, I could see clearly, now that I only saw her. Suddenly I could breathe, with her pressing down on my chest.
“I’m here,” she soothed, propping herself up on my chest with one arm and putting the other hand on my face. “I’m here, I’m safe. So are you. We’re all here, we’re all safe, we’re all alright.”
Something about the words seemed familiar, but the memories were still sluggish in returning. Still, the fire in my blood and agony in my flameheart died at this irrefutable proof that they were no longer necessary.
“Where…are we?” I croaked. I could have looked around, but I didn’t want to look away from her. Or risk reminding her of her hand on my face and making her withdraw it.
“Back in my hold,” she said comfortingly. “You’re in your room here.”
And so are you, I thought in wonder, but didn’t dare say it out loud.
Not just in my room. She was.…
Flame help me, I had better not even think it.
But Sarah did. Her cheeks warmed, and she began separating herself hastily. “Sorry, I should—”
I felt a surge of the fear, agony, and burning return, and I gripped her arms as if grabbing a lifeline.
“No!” I cried.
At her startled look, I took a deep, shaking breath. Even if I couldn’t quite control what I felt or let go of her yet, I had to explain. “Er, that is, if you don’t mind, could you…stay? For a bit longer? I need.…”
I didn’t know what I needed. Other than for her to not leave. But I couldn’t think straight enough to put it into words that didn’t sound…crazy. Or desiring.
Oh, there was an element of desire, but believe it or not, most of what I felt in the moment at the thought of her leaving was fear and pain. Some of the darkness still clung to me, ready to drag me back, and I didn’t know if I could resist it if she left.
Finally, I managed, “Having you here is very…comforting.”
Comforting. That was a good word, right? A much milder term than what I felt, like calling an ocean damp or a sun warm. But accurate enough. And not crazy, right? Friendly?
That seemed good enough for Sarah, because she relaxed and even settled back down. Knowing she wasn’t about to leave, I was able to relinquish my hold so she could do so.
Though I longed to reach out in some other way or at least turn on my side to face her, I held myself still, with my hands at my sides.
Thank the Flame for the blankets between us—one over me, and one tangled around her.
She yawned. “That’s good with me, because my body says it wasn’t quite ready to wake up yet.”
“Sorry,” I said sheepishly.
“Oh, don’t be sorry,” she said dismissively. “I’m the one who should be apologizing, again. I was supposed to keep an eye on you, but I shouldn’t have settled down here to sleep. It’s just…you looked so lonely.”
Her cheeks warmed again. “Silly, I know.”
“Not silly,” I insisted, but inside I felt a chill at the degree of her intuition. How much had she already guessed, even subconsciously, about how I felt about her? About how much I needed her? Right now, she felt more necessary than air to breathe.
When her expression remained doubtful, I continued. “Like I said, having you here is…comforting.”
What I didn’t say is that I didn’t know what I would have done if she hadn’t been right there. And if her very presence and scent hadn’t been soothing me from before I was even conscious.
My next words slipped out before I could think better of them. “I think…I needed you. And still do.”
Oh, Flame above, that wasn’t brotherly, was it? What would she think? What would she do? Was she about to—
But to my intense relief, she only smiled contentedly and relaxed further. She pulled her blanket up over her shoulders and tucked her chin. “That’s…nice to hear. I like being needed.”
That gave me pause. I focused so much on taking care of her because that was what I liked doing. Why hadn’t I ever stopped to think before that she…might want a chance to do the same?
As a friend, of course. To show friendliness. And friendship. And.…
Yup, I had better shut up.
So of course, I blurted, “I’ve always needed you.”
Oh, hellwinds, her proximity and scent must have been making my already fog-filled brain even worse. What was I about to do next? Propose?!
Proving how far gone I was, part of me began considering the merits of doing just that. Then, if she said yes, maybe I could do something about the distance that remained between us.…
Thank the Flame, all she did was blink. Then smile again, this time in amusement. “Really? You don’t seem to. You’re so…self-sufficient.”
Ah, she was still thinking of friendly needs. I tried to subtly let out a breath of relief—and desperately rein myself in.
“Well, I suppose I don’t like asking for help,” I mused.
It wasn’t a luxury I was used to. Normally, everyone else wanted me to help them.
Her smile deepened. “I guess that makes two of us. What a pair we are. Both of us like helping but don’t want to be helped.”
I chuckled, partly to hide the warmth increasing—completely unnecessarily—in my face at her calling us a pair.
A pair of friends, I told myself.
Torch it, how many times did I have to say some variation of the word friend before I got a grip?
I smiled crookedly. “I’ll try to be better about that.”
“And I’ll try to have a better attitude about being helped.” Sarah sighed. “Since I need so much of it.”
My smile faded. “You won’t forever. And it’s not a bad thing that you do now.”
“It’s a dangerous thing, though,” she said quietly, not meeting my eyes. “If I hadn’t been so helpless, then.…”
Oh.
Oh, Flame.
It was coming back. The darkness roared up to claim me, and this time, it had memories.
Alya’s scream, my sprinting down the tunnel, running through the jorgen, Yvera holding me back and me knocking her away, facing the fork in the tunnel and nearly pulverizing something from despair, hearing Sarah’s whistle to the right, running again, seeing the rechal almost on Sarah.…
Seeing Sarah.…
Seeing red.
“Ben! Ben!” Sarah said, near shouting to break through to me.
Her face filled my vision again, driving off the red. I gasped again, inhaling and exhaling wildly as if I had been drowning.
This was why I was so afraid for her to leave me. Because my subconscious knew that as soon as it could no longer suppress memory.…
“I’m here, I’m alright, I’m here,” she repeated urgently, over and over again. She was on my chest again, and the solid weight of her, as light as it was, was supremely comforting.
But no longer enough. I wrapped my arms around her and crushed her to me. One hand lingered on her back, the other tangled in her hair at her neck.
She is alive.
With every breath, I inhaled her scent, felt her lungs move against my chest, and repeated that to myself.
She is alive.
I don’t know how long she let me hold her like that. Longer than it took for the darkness to finally settle. Not entirely leave—but it became content to linger as shadows rather than swallow me whole. Longer than it took for my trembling to stop, my breath to ease, and my flameheart’s pulses to slow.
Longer than was necessary.
And yet…she didn’t seem in a hurry to move.
Before the embers of hope could surge, I remembered her words from just before. I like being needed.
I was in need, so she was content, maybe even happy where she was right now.
That didn’t mean she would have chosen to be there had I been perfectly alright.
Yet another, horrible doubt concerning her pierced through me: I was always going to need her. And I was not always going to be able to hide that fact. Even if my need was subconscious, she might gravitate toward it, toward the simple happiness it gave her to help me.
Then how could I ever know if she…felt anything more?
Perhaps more important…would it be wrong of me to ask to court her? Would she say yes and then convince herself to love me simply because she would finally see the depth of that need? Where was the line between persuading someone to feel for you and taking advantage of their good heart that couldn’t help but respond to your pleas?
But…did I have the strength to do anything else but plead anymore? I was barely holding myself back from acting until after…the after. Honestly, one of the few pillars of support I had left was the fear that the Trees would not allow it.
There was a certain way to find out the answer.
But, like a coward, I couldn’t bear to ask Her for fear the answer was no. If it was to be no, then…at least I could have these days of pretending. Of putting off the inevitable until some future point that was safely out of sight for all the other mountains in its path right now.
I wanted—I needed—these days of having her all to myself, before our duties pulled us apart and other people pressed into the void.
This wasn’t so bad, this friendship. Especially right now, with her lying in my arms. I could live with that for a few more days before ruining it. Right?
Too soon, she shifted. But to my sharp relief, she only pushed up onto her forearms to examine me.
“Better?” she asked uncertainly.
I forced myself to think of the retreating darkness, and not on my choking flameheart, to make the words true. “Yes…better. Sorry…about that. Not everything came back at once.”
“Don’t mention it. That’s what I’m here for.” She seemed to really mean it, too.
She hesitated. “Does that mean you now remember…everything?”
I frowned. “I still think there still must be some holes…I remember the arrel grabbing you, then.…”
“Don’t force it,” she urged gently. And…was that a bit of relief in her eyes? “It will come if it will come, but there’s no need to bring it up now.”
I looked at her. Then said, “I’m a torched idiot, aren’t I? Here I am, falling apart and needing you to keep me together, and you’re the one who.…”
“Don’t worry about me,” she said with a thin smile. “I think…I’m going to be OK. But if it hits later, I’ll let you know.”
I just stared. How could she possibly think herself weak?
“How?” I whispered. Before I could stop myself, I reached up and brushed her face in awe. I tried to make the motion casual by tucking some of her hair behind her ear.
Thank the Flame, she didn’t seem to mind. Her eyes were thoughtful, her focus inward.
“I think…” she said slowly. “…it’s because I did everything I could. Everything. The gun, the running, the lights, the whistle. Stalling until you could get to me—because I knew you were coming for me. And everything I could do…was enough.”
“How did you do it?” I asked. “How did you get away? I can’t remember. I couldn’t have flown up to save you, not at night.”
She looked away, and something in my mind stirred. But I was distracted by Sarah’s answer.
“There was a gate, Ben. On the same mountain. I could see it. Then the Tree came to me, and She told me to reach for it. So I did. And…then I woke up here.”
I inhaled sharply. “You can surge to gates?!”
She smiled. “Moongates, at least.”
“Sarah,” I said excitedly, grabbing her by the shoulders. “This is incredible!”
It was a Flamesend, that was what it was. Literally. The relief I felt at knowing that Sarah could get away from danger like that…I couldn’t describe.
“I don’t think I can do it before the gate appears, Ben,” Sarah cautioned. “I think I need to feel it’s there; I need that connection. And I don’t know how far away I can do it from.…”
“The distance you’re able to manage might increase over time,” I said eagerly. “That’s the way it was for me.”
She shrugged, but she seemed doubtful. “Maybe.”
“Sarah, I don’t think you realize—this is a torched miracle.” The best news I’d received in days, by far. Unable to contain my relief any longer, I pulled her into me for another tight hug.
Thank you, I said fervently to the Tree. First to mine, out of habit. Then I said it again to Sarah’s, in case She could hear me, too.
Sarah laughed in my ear. “I think you’re way more excited about this than I am. Is it nice having something in common?”
That gave me pause. I let her push away enough to meet my eyes again. “I…suppose that’s part of it. But I’m just so torched relieved that you have that option now. If something like that were to happen again.…”
I shook my head and sighed. “I really am an idiot. I should have had you try it sooner.”
“It worked out,” Sarah said soothingly. Then added thoughtfully, “I think…I had to learn it that way. It was hard. Really hard. It took everything I had left by that point, and I only had enough faith in myself because of everything else that had happened. I don’t think I would have been able to do it if you had just pointed at a moongate and told me to try.”
“You’re talking as if the Trees put you in danger to teach you,” I growled.
She held up a finger, still thoughtful. “No, hang on a minute, I’m having an epiphany. What if…the Trees are so smart, They know how to use what is going to happen anyway? What if They know how to turn the Devourer’s machinations into…victories? And our own choices into lessons?”
I raised an eyebrow. “Are you sure you didn’t grow up hearing the High Priestess lecture on the Tree’s wisdom every Flameday?”
Sarah laughed. “No, but I’m assuming you did. And I think you’re beginning to rub off on me.”
“Hopefully in a good way,” I said ruefully.
Her smile was bright enough to send my flameheart roaring. “Only in the best way.”