I WAKE TO the feeling of a cool breeze and the sound of rushing water. At least, I think that's what I hear. My ears are ringing, and my head is throbbing. I'm not sure where I am or how I got here.
I try to open my eyes, but it's too bright. The light burns my eyes, and I close them again with a groan. I lift my hand to rub them, but something stops me. I can't move my arms. My hands are stuck, pinned to my sides.
I try to move my legs, but they won't budge either. I'm stuck. I'm trapped. I start to panic, and my breath comes faster. What's happening? Where am I?
"Sarah?"
I hear a voice. It's familiar, but I can't place it. It sounds like it's coming from above me, or maybe behind me. It's hard to tell.
"Sarah, can you hear me?"
I open my eyes again and try to focus. The light is still blinding, but I can make out shapes. I see a wall of rubble and debris in front of me, blocking most of my view. I see a crack in it, though, and a sliver of sky. It's a dull grayish-pink, and the breeze is coming from there.
I turn my head, and see a pair of golden eyes looking down at me. They're set in a blue face, framed by dark blue hair. They're full of concern, and they belong to... Llywelyn.
Oh, right. I remember now. We were in an alley, and then—
A boom.
A blast.
A rush of air.
Pain.
"Sarah," he says again, and his voice is soft. "Are you okay? Can you move?"
"I... I think so," I say, and try to lift my arm again. I feel some resistance, but I can move it a little. I realize that something is on top of me, weighing me down. It's heavy and solid, and it's covering most of my body. It's...
Llywelyn.
He's on top of me, shielding me with his back. He's holding up the rubble that would have crushed us both. I can see the strain in his arms, and the veins on his chest and neck glowing a bright blue-white.
I gasp. "Llywelyn, what are you doing? Get off me!"
"No," he says, shaking his head. "If I move, you'll be crushed. I have to hold this up until help comes."
"Help? What help? We're in the middle of nowhere! Who's going to help us?" I try to push him off, but he's too heavy. He doesn't budge. "Llywelyn, you can't do this! You'll kill yourself!"
"I'm not going to die," he says, and he sounds confident. "I'm stronger than I look."
He sounds... almost amused. Like this is some kind of game to him. Like he's enjoying this. But I can see the pain in his eyes, and the sweat on his brow. I can feel his heart beating wildly against my chest. He's not as calm as he pretends to be.
"You stupid—fish—" I struggle to move, just to get a view, to find some kind of escape.
I know he's strong.
Incredibly strong.
But I also know he has a short fuse. He's not used to this kind of exertion. He can't keep this up for long, and when he fails, it'll be both of us who die.
I try to push my way out again, but it's useless. The weight is too much and his body is too heavy. I'm trapped under him.
"Careful, hetchki! You'll shift the weight and crush us both," he scolds, his voice strained.
I hate that stupid nickname. I wish I could hit him.
I look around, trying to find something, anything, that could help. But all I see is more rubble and debris. There's nothing here that can save us.
Except—
I notice something behind Llywelyn's head. A small opening in the rubble. It's dark, but I can see water dripping from it. It's a pipe, maybe. Or a sewer. Or something. I don't know. But it's a way out.
"Llywelyn," I say, and he looks at me. "There's a hole behind you. Can you reach it?"
He turns his head and sees what I mean. His eyes widen, and he shakes his head. "No. It's too far. And even if I could, it's too small for both of us. It's a maintenance hole. Doesn't fit two people. And—" He closes his eyes and swallows. "It's flooded. You won't be able to breathe."
I bite my lip. "Then you go," I say, and I hate how desperate I sound. "You have to go. You can't stay here. You have to—"
"No." He cuts me off, and looks at me with a fierce glare. "I'm not leaving you here."
"Llywelyn, please!"
"No!"
"Listen to me, you idiot!" I scream and tears prick my eyes. "You're going to die if you stay here! You're going to get crushed! Don't fucking lie to me! I know how little endurance you have! You're not a bodybuilder! You're a spoiled, lazy, self-centered bastard! You can't do this! Just go!"
I don't want to hurt him, but I have to make him see reason. I have to make him save himself.
I can't lose him again.
Not when I just found him.
He flinches as if I struck him, and his glow dims for a moment. He looks away, his jaw clenched. "I'm not going to—"
"Llywelyn, you stupid fish, JUST GO!"
"NO!" He roars, and his veins flash a brilliant white. "I'm not leaving you! I can't! I'd rather die with you than live without you! Do you understand?!"
I gape at him.
Did he just—
No.
No, he couldn't have. He can't mean that. He can't be that stupid.
But his eyes are earnest and his voice is ragged. He means it. He really means it.
He would rather die than leave me.
I want to cry. I want to scream. I want to kiss him.
But I can't do any of that.
"Llywelyn..." I say, and my voice is soft. "Please..."
"Sarah... I can't." He says, and his voice breaks. "Please... Don't ask me to. I can't."
I stare at him, and I see the truth in his eyes. He's not going to move. He's not going to save himself. He's going to die here with me.
He's going to choose me over his own life.
And I hate it.
"I—I hate you."
He flinches.
"I hate you so much," I say, and I feel the tears spilling down my cheeks. "You're the worst. The worst person I've ever met. You're selfish and arrogant and—and stupid! You're a joke! You're a fucking joke! I don't want your help! I'd rather—rather die than have an alien save me so fucking! Stop it!"
I don't know why I'm saying this. I don't mean it. I don't hate him. I love him. But I can't stand to see him sacrifice himself for me. I can't bear the thought of losing him.
I know the words are hurting him. I can see it in his eyes. They're full of hurt and pain. But he doesn't argue. He doesn't fight back. He just looks at me with a sad, resigned expression.
"It's fine." He murmurs, his voice almost breaking. "Say what you want. I'm not moving."
I want to scream at him more, but I don't have the strength. I just cry silently, feeling the weight of his body and the rubble pressing down on us. We're going to die here. Together. And I can't do anything about it.
I hate this.
I hate it so much.
I close my eyes and let the tears fall. I feel Llywelyn's chest rise and fall with his breath, and his heartbeat slow down. He's losing his strength. He's fading.
"Please... please..." I whisper, not knowing what I'm asking for.
I feel his fingers brush my cheek, wiping away a tear. I open my eyes and see him smiling at me. It's a faint, weak smile, but it's there. His eyes are soft and glowing.
"Sarah..." He says, and his voice is barely audible. "I'm... glad I met you."
"Don't—don't you fucking say that—"
"Because you hate me, right?" He chuckles and then winces. "I know. But... well—I guess I already said everything I wanted to. So... I'll just say it again." He leans down and kisses my forehead. It's a light, gentle kiss, but it sends a shiver down my spine. "I love you, Sarah. And I'm happy. That I got to be with you."
I stare at him. I can't believe he's saying this. I can't believe he's smiling. He's going to die and he's happy about it.
Because of me.
I want to slap him. Or hug him. Or both. But I can't do either.
"Llywelyn..."
"Not—really a masochist so if you're just going to insult my glow or—"
"I love you." It flows out so fast that I...
I don't even know if it's true.
I don't think—
It can't actually be but I—
He stills. His eyes widen and his glow pulses. He looks at me like he's never seen me before. Like he's not sure he heard me right.
I want to take it back. I want to pretend I didn't say it. I want to hide from this awful truth.
But I can't.
I look away from him, my face burning. I can't bear to see his reaction. I don't know what he'll do, what he'll say. Maybe he'll laugh at me. Or maybe he'll tell me I'm lying. Or maybe—
"I—I want to hate you. And run away and be free but I came—back because... I don't. And I don't want to leave you behind. I... think..." I swallow and squeeze my eyes shut.
I think that I love him.
I don't. I don't know what kind of a person that makes me. Because I. Am supposed. to love Alistair. And don't I? I think—surely I do. And yet, I could... I should have...
I promised to go back to him and I refused and—
This is such a fucking bad time to realize this!
"Sarah..." Llywelyn says, and his voice is choked. "You... You don't have to say that. You don't have to... lie to me. Not now."
I shake my head. "I'm not lying. I—"
"You are." He says, and his tone is firm. "I know you are."
I look at him, and his expression is pained but determined.
"I'm not a fool, Sarah. I know you don't really hate me. But that doesn't mean. That you..." He trails off and his eyes flicker away from me. "It's okay. You don't have to... pretend. Not now. Not when we're—"
"Don't you tell me what I feel!" I hiss, and anger flares in my chest again. "You don't know anything about me! You don't get to decide what's true or not! If I say I love you, then I love you! Okay?!"
He blinks at me, surprised by my outburst. He opens his mouth to say something, but then—
The ground shakes again.
The rubble shifts.
A rock falls from the pile above us and hits Llywelyn's shoulder. He shrinks down, wrapping himself around me further to shield me from the impact. He grits his teeth, and his glow brightens.
"Lllywelyn! Llywelyn—!" I sob his name. "Just—please just go!"
"I told you—I can't—"
"Go!" I scream, and I claw at his chest, trying to push him away from me. "I hate you! I hate you so much! Just go! Leave me alone!"
"Sarah—"
"LEAVE!"
I scream it as loud as I can, and I hear something crack above us. A piece of ceiling that was holding up the rest of the rubble breaks and falls, sending a cloud of dust and debris over us. I cough and choke, and I feel Llywelyn's arms tighten around me, trying to protect me.
But it's too much. The weight is too much. The strain is too much.
He grunts, and then cries out in pain. His glow flares, and then fades. I feel his body sag, and his arms slip.
For a moment I think that we're about to be crushed.
But he catches his hands in the dirt, nails digging into it.
I feel a horrible weight on one arm now. He's no longer separate from me. But the rubble's not fully crushing me, either. He's... he's holding it up with his left arm, his back arched at a horrible angle.
I can't believe what I'm seeing. He's holding up the weight of a collapsed building with a single arm, at a crooked angle, just to keep me safe.
Why?
Why would he do this?
Why would he risk his life for me?
It doesn't make sense.
It's crazy.
It's—
It's him.
I look at him. His eyes are closed, his face pale and sweaty. His veins are barely glowing, but I can see the effort in them. I can see how much this is costing him.
I can't let him do this. I can't let him die for me.
I have to save him.
I have to do something.
"Lly—"
"Sarah..." He says, and his voice is faint.
His eyes meet mine.
I can't think. Of any words.
He doesn't say anything.
The rubble above us is creaking. His arm is shaking. I can see the blood trickling down his temple.
He's going to die.
"Llywelyn..." I whisper.
He smiles at me. It's a weak, tired smile.
"Don't... nishi'an cry. Hetchki." He says. "I told you. I'm glad. I met you."
And then his arm gives out.
I hear a loud crash, and feel a rush of air. I scream, and close my eyes, waiting for the impact.
But it never comes.
I open my eyes, and see—
Green. A beautiful, shimmering green.
The rock that Llywelyn was holding up, nearly as big as he is tall, has fallen a few inches. But a green hand holds it. The hand stretches up to a gemstone woman with a sweet smile.
Mira is smiling down at us. Covered in dust and dirt. With not a chip or scratch on her.
She flips her hand, and the rock goes spinning out of sight with a crash. She looks between us for a moment, and then smiles.
"Oh. Sorry. Were you mating? I could put it back—" she offers.
"Mira!" I shriek in relief, and sob. I feel a weight shift off of me and I look over my shoulder to see Llywelyn, still alive.
He's unconscious, his veins barely glowing and his body limp. But he's alive.
Mira bends down and picks him up, lifting him as if he weighs nothing. She looks at me and tilts her head. "Sarah? Are you okay?" Her smile fades. "You're bleeding. I think I should take you to the hotel."
I touch my head, and my fingers come away wet. I didn't even notice I was hurt.
I don't know how to answer her.
I don't get much of a choice to anyway, because the bizarre woman slings Llywelyn over one of her shoulders, and then just casually bends over and picks me up with the other arm.
Right over her shoulder.
With a scream.
Oh, no.
Right, that's mine.