The tide passes safely, as it has each time since the first. And it's about time for us to leave. It doesn't feel like it did with Ivan, the day we were going to leave. Even though this is also an important mission that I've had days to prepare for and think about, it's different. But I suppose that's not some kind of mystery. This is an important mission, of course, but it's not going to immediately decide if we get home. Unless we die, obviously. But... it's still different.
And...
I've just realized, looking at my papers, that I've only chosen nine so far. I don't know how, but... I need to find a tenth. A tenth person who didn't already volunteer, despite having days to do so, on the day of the mission. I don't know how I missed that fact.
I have no idea who to ask, or even who is left to ask. I push the papers aside and lean back in the chair, rubbing my face with my hands. I'm tired, stressed, and I just... I don't know.
A soft touch on my arm makes me jump, and I look up to see Hestia standing next to me. She's holding a cup of water, her expression concerned. I smile at her, taking the cup, but before I can drink, she places her other hand on my knee.
"What is it?" I ask, my brow furrowing.
She taps my leg, then holds up her hands, as if she's holding a rifle. Her expression is firm, determined. I stare at her, not quite understanding. Then it hits me, and I shake my head.
"No. No, Hestia. You can't-"
She glares at me, her eyes narrowing. I know that look. It's her 'don't even think about it' look. She's stubborn, determined, and she's not going to take no for an answer.
"Hestia, please-"
She stomps her foot, her fists clenched at her sides. She's not going to back down, I can see that. I can also see the desperation in her eyes, the fear. She's scared, of being left behind, of being separated from me. She doesn't want to be alone, doesn't want to be left here while I go off and risk my life.
And I... I get it. After all, I can't imagine how it would have felt to have been left behind, to wait in the base and expect to see Eric and Mia... or Ivan or... and then they're just. Gone. Gone, or worse. I.. I don't know what I would have thought. How I would have responded. I think...
I want to believe that it would be easier not to have seen... that. But would it? Enough... enough to force Hestia to sit here and wait, afraid that it'll happen again, that I'll leave and not come back for her this time?
Yet still, even though I understand, I... "Hestia..." I whisper, "I can't see you die..." I can't. I won't. I can't... I can't protect her if she's right there, on the front lines. I barely protect myself. I don't know what I'm doing. I'm not sure this will even work. What if we get caught? What if I get us all killed? I can't take her with me and risk it...
She looks at me, her gaze unwavering. She reaches out, her hand cupping my cheek, her thumb brushing against my skin. She leans close. Those dark eyes of hers are boring into mine. I feel like she's staring right into me.
Her other hand settles over my heart. Then she releases my face and grabs my hand. She places it over her heart, and looks at me expectantly.
I stare at her, my chest tight, my throat thick with unshed tears. She's saying... she's telling me that we're connected. That we're in this together, no matter what. That she wants to be with me, to fight with me, to protect me, just as I want to protect her.
I let out a shaky breath, my eyes stinging. I don't want to agree to this. I don't want to put her in danger, to risk her life. Out of everyone I...
Her hands let go of me, and she places her hands on my cheeks.
And then smacks them. The sound is a loud, stinging clap. I gape at her.
She stares at me, and her expression is... well. She looks like she thinks I'm being stupid.
She continues those light, stinging claps. Not hard, just enough to make a sound. I grab her wrists. "A-Alright, Alright! Oww, Hestia...! I get it!" I groan. "I... fine. Fine. You can come with us."
She beams at me, a bright, happy smile that makes my heart ache. She wraps her arms around me in a tight hug, her head resting on my shoulder. I hug her back, burying my face in her hair, trying to push down the fear, the guilt.
I'll protect her. I have to. I'll do whatever it takes to keep her safe, to bring her back here, alive and unharmed. It's a promise I make to myself, a vow I'll keep no matter what.
Even if it kills me.
"You have to stay close to me, alright? You can't wander off, you can't take any risks. If I tell you to run, you run, okay? You don't look back, you don't try to be a hero. You just run. You got that?"
She nods against my shoulder, her arms tightening around me. I can feel her determination, her resolve. She'll listen to me, she'll do as I say. She trusts me, and I won't betray that trust. I won't let her down.
We stay like that for a while, just holding each other, drawing strength from each other
Eventually, though, I hear Anna call from the other room, "Lunch! Get your butts in here and eat before you go!"
I pull away from Hestia, smiling at her. "Come on. Let's go eat."
She nods, her hand finding mine, holding on tight. I give her hand a squeeze, and together, we walk to the other room, ready to face whatever comes next.
Everyone is already gathered at the table, the mood a mix of excitement and nerves. Alistair, Maren, Kael, Jess, Rhea, Ben, Cal, and Leo are all there, their expressions varying from eager to grim. Anna and Arden are there too, Anna bustling around the table, serving food, Arden leaning against the wall, his crutch propped up next to him.
"Alright, listen up." He says, as we all sit down, our plates filled with the last of our rations. "This is it. The moment of truth. You all know the plan, you know what's at stake. We're not just fighting for ourselves, we're fighting for everyone here, for the future of every last one of us. So... I want to see each and every one of you make it back here in one piece. Understood?"
There's a chorus of agreement, of nods and murmured assent. I can see the determination in their eyes, the resolve. They're ready for this, as ready as they'll ever be.
Arden's gaze sweeps over the group, his expression stern. Then he looks at me, his eyes softening slightly. "Sarah. You're in charge. I trust you to lead them, to make the hard calls. Don't let me down."
I nod, my throat tight. "I won't."
He gives me a small smile, then turns his attention back to the group. "Alright. Eat up, rest up. You leave at nightfall. Godspeed."
With that, he hobbles out of the room, leaving us to our meal. The food is tasteless, bland, all the good stuff already eaten. But I choke it down, knowing I need the strength, the energy. I can't afford to be weak, not now. Not when so much depends on me.
For a few moments, we sit and eat in somber silence, no doubt...all of us lost in our own thoughts - about this mission. About how different, how dangerous this one is compared to... maybe compared to any other these survivors have handled.
"Blyaaaaaaaaaat..."
I turn to stare at Cal, who has his fork frozen midair to his mouth. He stares at the plate. "What is this?" He asks.
"Food." Maren says, "Eat it."
He glares at her. "This is not food, this is...! Otrava!" He shakes his head. "I need real food. Or alcohol! Not this...starch and sand!"
Alistair snorts, and I turn to see he's still smiling from that. "You need your strength, old man."
"Do not! Mock me, malysh!"
"I'm not mocking you, I'm just telling you to eat!" He retorts, shaking his head, "Even if it tastes like the inside of my shoes, you're eating it, Cal."
"Idi ty..." Cal grumbles something in Russian that I don't understand, but he starts eating again.
"I thought you were Russian." I say, looking at him.
He narrows his eyes at me, but then nods. "Nyet. I am Siberian. Big difference."
I don't understand how it is a big difference.
"Mom used to say a Russian could make alcohol out of anything..." I say, thinking of her odd stories, of the way she would always go on and on about how Russians were all tough bastards, that they could weather the cold and endure anything.
"Ha! She is right! But I am not Russian." He says, with a wag of his fork. "It is not the same. Russian. Siberian."
"There's a difference?" I ask, confused.
He snorts. "Big one. Russians drink weak stuff. We make samogon that burns like fire. And we are tougher! I once wrestled a bear in snowstorm for last can of beans. Won." He puffs up his chest. "So tough, I am."
"Uh... huh." I stare at him. Alistair hides his laugh with a cough, and I roll my eyes at him, before I smile at Cal. "But you can't make alcohol like one...?"
He makes a sour face. "Is... too slow. Takes time. Tasted like govno. So I stop."
I... I guess that's fair. I look around the table, watching as the others eat, lost in their own worlds. Rhea and Ben are talking quietly, their heads close together. Kael is staring at the table, his expression unreadable. Jess is picking at her food, her gaze distant. Maren is fiddling with a piece of metal, her mind clearly on the machines we'll be facing.
And Alistair...he's watching me. His eyes are fixed on my face, his expression intense. I can feel the weight of his gaze, the heat of it. It makes my skin tingle, my heart race. I want to look away, to break the connection, but I can't. I'm trapped, ensnared, unable to do anything but stare back.
Whatever it is Cal's drinking spills on Alistair's arm. "Aaaahhh! Govno!"
"What the hell, Cal?!" Alistair wipes his arm on the table, glaring at Cal. "This isn't vodka!"
"I know!" Cal glares at his cup. "If it were vodka, I would never waste it on your stupid arm." He pouts down at his cup. "Is just water..."
"You threw it on purpose?!"
"You were being creep! Again! Ne zyryay!"
"We're not in fifth grade, you don't have to throw things at me just because I'm looking at my-!" Alistair cuts himself off, and I can feel my face heating. My eyes dart away from him, and I focus on my plate, my appetite suddenly gone.
"Uh huh..." Cal says, but he just drinks more water.
"D-Don't throw your damn water at me, you stupid old man." Alistair mutters, and I can hear the embarrassment in his voice.
I press my lips together, trying to hide my smile. It's... almost endearing, seeing him flustered like this. He isn't someone that I've often seen flustered.
It's... no. It's definitely cute.