The shooting stops shortly afterward. The silence that follows is terrifying, but Jess insists that we cannot leave the wounded - we have to stay until daylight or until we're driven away, or until the others return. The truth is I don't think I can leave Hestia anyway.
It's near dawn when the doors burst open and the others return. Not quite in the way I expected. A large, bronze-gold vehicle that looks like some kind of oversized army transport jeep with a raised, flat back in which the cargo or troops might be carried, covered by a rounded top, rolls to a stop just outside the depot. Behind it are several transports laden with supplies, more cycles, and what might be more vehicles.
Mikhail is in the driver's seat. Alistair leaps out of the back and runs toward us. His hair is covered in oil, dirt, and blood. He's got a nasty cut on his face, and a burn on his arm. He jogs over to where we are and kneels in front of me, cupping my face in his hands. "You're okay..."
I nod. I'm not sure if it's true, but I say it anyway. "How about you...?" I ask, my voice cracking.
He smiles, but it doesn't reach his eyes. "I'm fine. We're all fine." He looks at Jess and nods to her. "Let's get Ben and Hestia into the truck. It'll be safer for them in there. Then we can get the rest of this stuff consolidated and get out of here before this place catches up so much fire they come investigating." His thumbs stroke my cheeks, and for a moment I almost lean into it. But then he stands and goes to do as he said, and I'm left in a sort of... daze.
I feel like I should be doing something, helping somehow. But... I don't know what. I'm just so... so tired. So drained. I watch as Alistair and Jess carefully lift Hestia, carrying her to the transport. I follow after them, less like a leader and more... just a lost pup. I'm not sure if it's an improvement or a worsening of my role, but I can't bring myself to care. I just need to be near her, need to know she's safe.
I climb into the back of the transport, settling next to her, my hand finding hers. Her skin is cold, clammy. Her breathing is shallow, labored. It scares me, how fragile she seems, how close to death. But I can't think about that. I have to believe she'll be okay, that we'll make it back, that Lena will be able to help her. I have to.
Alistair climbs in after me, his body folding down next to mine. He doesn't say anything, just wraps an arm around my shoulders, pulling me close. I lean into him, my head resting on his chest, my eyes closing. I'm not. Screaming anymore. But I can't quite help myself but to cry. The sound of his heartbeat is soothing, a steady rhythm that grounds me. I don't know what I'd do without him, without his strength, his support. I don't want to find out.
The others load the last of the supplies, the last of the vehicles. I can hear the murmur of voices, the sound of engines starting up. But I don't move, don't open my eyes. I just stay where I am, curled against Alistair, holding Hestia's hand.
We start to move, the transport lurching forward. I can hear the roar of the flames behind us, the sound of the depot burning. It's a bittersweet victory, a hollow triumph. We got what we needed, but at what cost?
Damn it...
We... have to be better. We have to. I don't want to lose anyone else. I can't lose anyone else. I won't. I won't let it happen. I'll find a way, a solution. I'll make it work. I have to.
The journey back to the base is long, tense. The sun rises, the heat bearing down on us, but it's nothing compared to the heat of the fire, the heat of my anger, my grief. I'm so tired, so exhausted. But I can't rest, can't let my guard down. Not yet. Not until we're safe, not until Hestia is okay.
Alistair's arm tightens around me, his lips pressing against my hair. "We're almost there." He whispers. "Just a little longer."
I nod, my throat too tight to speak. I know. I know that I can do this. I have to do it, but...every time I look at Hestia, every time a bump causes her hand to almost slip from mine, I forget... how. I just... I forget how to breathe. I forget how to keep going. I don't know what I'll do if she...
No. I won't think about that. I won't. She'll be okay. She has to be. I won't accept anything else.
And then, finally, we're there. We're back at the base. Even before we stop, there's a flurry of movement. Alistair gathers Hestia in his arms and leaps out, shouting, "Lena! Lena!" I'm right behind him, my heart racing, my hope soaring.
No one is there, of course. They have no reason to be. I race ahead of him, wrenching open the door and screaming, "Lena!" as loud as I can.
There are other survivors - Anna, Tessa, Michal, but Lena must be up above. I race up the stairs, my feet pounding, my breath coming in short, sharp gasps. "Lena!" I shout, again and again. "Lena!"
The moment I'm through the upper-most hatch, she's there, her eyes wide, her expression urgent. "Sarah! What hap-!"
Alistair appears behind me, Hestia in his arms. Lena's eyes go from me to the girl, and her face pales. "Oh no. No. No..." She rushes forward, taking Hestia from him, her hands already checking for a pulse, for signs of life. "To the infirmary! Now! Bring her!"
I follow, my heart in my throat, my mind racing. Lena lays Hestia down on the cot, her hands moving quickly, expertly. She's checking her vitals, her wounds, her breathing. I can see the worry in her eyes, the fear. But she's calm, focused. She knows what she's doing. She'll help Hestia. She has to.
Anna arrives then, her face grim, her hands already reaching for the supplies. Mikhail arrives with Ben a moment later, laying him down on another cot. Anna goes to him, her movements swift, efficient. She's not a medic, but she knows enough to help, to do what she can.
And then there's nothing for me to do. They've taken over, they're handling it. I'm just... in the way. I should leave, give them space. But I can't. I can't leave Hestia, can't leave her side. Not now. Not when she needs me the most.
A hand touches my arm, and I look up to see Alistair. His eyes are soft, concerned. "Come on." He says, gently. "Let's give them some room. They'll take care of her. I promise."
I want to argue, want to stay. But I know he's right. I know I'm just a distraction right now. So I nod, letting him lead me away, out of the infirmary. We stand outside the door, the sounds of Anna and Lena working filtering through. It's torture, listening to it, not knowing what's happening, what they're finding. But I have to trust them. I have to believe they'll save her.
I lean against the wall, my legs shaky, my body weak.
My hands...
The blood that was on them has mostly wiped off, some on my pants, some elsewhere. There's still dried flecks of Hestia's blood on my hands and...
I press one hand to my face and shake my head.
"I..." I swallow, "failed everyone...." I whisper.
"What?" Alistair's voice is sharp. I don't look up. I can't. "Sarah, that's not true. You-"
"I told Hestia I'd protect her. I told Arden to do this stupid mission, he trusted me to pick a team and lead and I-" I grit my teeth. "I didn't...! I just! Stood there and Hestia...!" I can't finish that sentence. I feel like I'm going to be sick.
"Sarah." That's Arden. "Come with me." His voice is heavy. "I want to hear everything."
I hesitate. I don't know if I can talk about it, if I can relive it. But I know I have to. He needs to know, needs to understand what happened. So I push away from the wall, my legs still unsteady, and follow him to his room.
He sits on his chair, his crutch propped up next to him. I sit across from him, my hands twisting in my lap. Alistair stands by the door, his arms crossed, his expression grim.
"Tell me." Arden says, his voice soft but firm.
So I do. I tell him everything, from the moment we entered the factory, to the moment we left the depot. I tell him about the fighting, the fear, the chaos. I tell him about Hestia. How I couldn't shoot, how I just... stood there until Hestia...
And.
I can't even complete the report. Alistair has to because. I was. Just uselessly sitting outside. I couldn't even be... present. I couldn't even risk myself like everyone else was doing.
"Hestia..." I murmur, shaking my head, "Hestia made... that impossible choice because I. I couldn't even...!"
"Sarah."
"No, you don't understand!" I look at him, my eyes burning with unshed tears. "I couldn't...! If she hadn't...! She'd be the one who died! She had to decide to- to-" I grit my teeth. "She's just... she's just a kid!"
"So are you, Sarah." Arden says, quietly.
I shake my head, vehemently. "No, I'm not. I'm. I'm supposed to be..." I swallow the rest of that sentence. I can't say it out loud. I don't know what I'm supposed to be. A hero? That's a laugh. A leader? Don't make me. But... I was supposed to be the one to protect. That's what I promised.
I didn't do that.
I failed.
"Sarah..." He sighs, leaning forward. "Tell me. If I were there. Or Ivan. What would have happened?" He holds up his hand before I can say anything. "I'm not looking for blame. I want you to think. Tell me, in your own words. How would it have gone."
I stare at him. I... don't want to think about it. I don't want to think about anything, because it hurts to think. To try to force the whirling colors in my mind to turn into words. But... I.
"I don't know. He- you'd...find..."
"What way, Sarah?" He cuts me off before I can finish. "Tell me what we would do. Our actions." His eyes are intense, boring into me, not letting me look away, forcing me to think it through.
"You..." I swallow, and shake my head. "I... I don't. Know..."
That intense look in his eyes fades, and he offers a small smile, before reaching out to place his hand over mine. "The same. We would do the same. It's not a condemnation, it's a simple fact. I understand you feel like it was your responsibility. But I would have done exactly what you did, if I had been in your shoes. This wasn't a failure of planning. It wasn't a failure of action. This was... something that you can't plan and decide around."
I shake my head. "But... if I had been better at shooting..."
"But you weren't." Arden shakes his head. "And even if you were, he could have hurt her even after you shot him. And if you'd kept Hestia glued to your side, something else would have happened."
"What are you-"
"Every plan goes wrong, Sarah. Sometimes catastrophically. It's not an if, but a when." He squeezes my hand. "It isn't about making a foolproof plan. It's about surviving the catastrophe when it happens."
I...
I blink, and look up at Arden. The words... I remember Ivan saying something almost exactly like that. More than once. Before that horrible mission. I'd completely forgotten because of... everything. But when he says that, I...
"The point of choosing a team isn't to make a plan that doesn't break, Sarah." He squeezes my hand. "It's to know that you've got the right people to pick up the pieces when it does break. And to trust them to do it when it's time." He pulls his hand back, and leans back in his chair. "Leading isn't always about running into battle. That. Is what Alistair's for."
Alistair makes a sound from behind me, but I don't turn to look at him. I can feel his eyes on my back, his presence a solid, comforting weight. I know he's there, that he's listening. And for some reason, it helps.
Arden continues, his tone serious. "Sometimes, the hardest thing a leader can do is let others handle their jobs. To trust them, to have faith in them. You've already proven that you can make the hard calls, Sarah. Now you just need to learn when to not make them."
I bite my lip, my thoughts swirling. I... don't know if I agree with him, if I can accept his words. But I can see his point, understand what he's trying to say.
I stare down at my blood-flecked hands.
"It's. Hard."
"It is." Arden nods. "But if you can get back up and face it tomorrow... that's what matters. Just... keep getting up."
"I... yeah." I take a deep breath, trying to steady myself. "Yeah. I'll try."
He smiles, a small, tired smile. "That's all I can ask for."
We sit in silence for a moment, the weight of the conversation settling over us. Then, a soft knock on the door breaks the quiet. Lena pokes her head in, her expression unreadable. "Sarah. Can I speak with you?"
I stand up, my heart pounding. I'm afraid of what she's going to say, of what she'll tell me. But I have to know. I have to face it.
I follow her out of the room, down the hall, back to the infirmary. The door is closed, the sounds from inside muffled. Lena stops, turning to face me. Her eyes are tired, sad, but there's a hint of relief there too.
"She's alive." She says, and I feel my knees go weak with relief. "She's stable, for now. But it's... it's bad, Sarah. She's lost a lot of blood, she has internal injuries, burns... I can't give you a guarantee that she's even going to wake up." Her voice is heavy, weighed down with the gravity of her words.
"But... she's alive." I whisper, clinging to that one fact, that one hope. "She's alive."
Lena nods, her expression softening. "She is. And we're... lucky. In this cursed place, the medicine is better. Even for us scavengers. If she can hold on long enough to let that medicine do its work..." Lena draws in a breath, hands flexing and clenching for a moment, before she speaks again, "I can't promise you this. But... it is possible. That she'll recover. Completely." Her eyes search mine. "If she wakes up."
I nod, understanding. That's the biggest 'if'. If she wakes up. If she's strong enough to fight through this. I have to believe she is. I have to believe that she'll pull through, that she'll be okay. I can't imagine a world where she's not.
"Thank you." I say, my voice thick with unshed tears. "Is it... okay? If I-"
"Go on." Lena opens the door, stepping aside to let me through.
I walk in, my heart in my throat. Hestia is lying on the cot, her body still, her face pale. There are wires and tubes attached to her. If any of the supplies we've scavenged are vital monitors, they're certainly not installed yet, so... whatever those machines are, they must have some purpose, but they're silent. Eerily so. The only sound is her breathing, shallow but steady. I walk over to her, my hand reaching out to brush the hair from her face. She's so still, so quiet. It's unnerving, seeing her like this. She's always been so full of life, so vibrant. Now... she's just a shadow of herself.
I sit down next to her, my hand finding hers. I don't know if she can hear me, if she can feel me. But I talk to her anyway, telling her about the day, about the fight, about how we won. I tell her about how brave she was, how she saved us, how she saved me. I tell her I love her, that I'm so proud of her, that I'll be here when she wakes up. I'll be here, waiting for her.
I don't know how long I stay there, speaking softly, holding her hand. I just know that eventually, without quite realizing it's about to happen, I fall asleep.