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Well, the rest of me sees myself as one of them. One of these angry, hurting survivors. I get why things are complicated for Carter. I get why he's upset. But I'm desperate for answers. Desperate for hope.
Torn between options, I sit frozen on the couch as Dr. Singh calms everyone down. He tells everyone there will be plenty of time to talk about their feelings regarding the operation and the operatives, but in this session, he'd like to focus on how they're doing as a whole.
"I'm afraid it's a game," someone on my left says. "Like I'm going to wake up to them laughing at me for believing it, then they'll drag me back to reality."
I find myself nodding, remembering feeling the same way just days ago. Others mumble, "Me too," or "Yeah." Some just nod their agreement.
"I'm afraid it'll never be over," I somehow find the courage to say. Everyone looks at me, their eyes sad and full of understanding. My voice shakes as I explain. "I'm afraid ten years from now, I'm still going to be this… thing that they've made me into. Like I'm going to be free, but never happy."
So many, Yes’s, so many, Me too’s, so many nods.
I'm not alone.
Holy shit, I’m not alone.
When I hear the door to the pool room creak open, then quietly click shut, I wait. If it's one of the other survivors, they'll announce themselves immediately. If it's Carter, he'll say something obnoxious or teasing. If it's an operative, they'll apologize right away, even when there's nothing to apologize for.
If it’s Jake, there’ll be a long silence as he watches me.
I’m not sure if he knows that I know he watches me. If he knows that I can hear the subtle sounds of the door. If he knows I'm aware of the weight of his gaze as he takes me. In my short time being here, I've learned that the length of time we've been apart directly correlates to how long he watches, almost like he's refueling himself with the sight of me.
I like that he watches me.
It scares me that I like it.
It gives me hope that I like it.
“You’re going to turn into a fish,” he eventually says. I smile, keeping my eyes closed as I float on my back in the water. It’s been way too long since I’ve heard that warm, rumbly voice. I get that he’s busy - I have been too today - but it still made me ache the longer I had to go without being near him. I missed him terribly, and I’m feeling way too fucking good right now to overthink that.
“Who says that isn’t my plan?” I tease. “I would make an excellent fish.”
“I’d miss you, though.”
I feel my smile widen. “Then come in. We could be fish together.”
“Or we could be humans together instead.”
“No fun.” I force myself to straighten, turning to face him as I push my soaked hair off my forehead. He’s crouched at the poolside, his arms resting on his thighs, hands clasped in the open air between his knees. I realize it’s the first time I’ve seen him dressed as Jake. Yesterday, he had still been wearing part of his tux most of the day as he scrambled from one problem to the next. Today, he’s in worn jeans and a short-sleeved black shirt that stretches across his broad chest and clings to his large biceps, exposing his left arm covered in tattoos that I’d give anything to be able to explore. He was handsome before, but now he’s just… fuck.
I blink, realizing I’ve been staring. My cheeks go hot as I turn my gaze to the rippling water in front of me. “Are you here to tell me it’s time for bed?”
He laughs softly before muttering something that sounds like, “If only.” When I look back at him, trying to decipher what that might mean, I find him looking a little wistful. If only? What-
“I’m not in charge of you anymore,” he says with a soft smile, interrupting my thoughts. “But if you’re tired, maybe you should turn in. It’s been a long 48 hours.”
I stroke the water, unable to help how badly I’d like to tell him he can have the job back. Being in charge of myself sucks. It’s overwhelming and exhausting and every few minutes I remember my life is mine again and it makes me want to dive under the water and not come back up. Jake’s just so fucking good at taking care of things. Taking care of me. He always made me feel so warm and safe. Without him I feel… untethered. Overwhelmed. Afraid.
“I’ll go in a bit,” I decide, knowing it’s probably not the smart choice, but also not sure I care enough. I want to swim. If it’s bad for my health, then it’s bad for my health. I’m too conflicted to care about my well-being today. Maybe I’ll try tomorrow. “What about you? You look tired, too.”
Jake laughs softly, nodding. “It’s been a long fucking day. We still can’t find Mica, information is flooding in from our operatives that are taking down loose ends and we have to make sure it’s all catalogued correctly so no one slips through the cracks, a survivor at one of the other houses is sick enough where he might need hospitalization, which makes things… tricky, two of the survivors from here wanted to leave immediately so we had to rush that process, and Maison almost passed out earlier and is still fucking fighting the order to rest.”
“Wow.” I glide through the water until I’m right in front of him, resting my forearms on the lip of the pool before nestling my chin on top of them. I tilt my head to meet his gaze. Despite the dim lighting, I can still see his scattered freckles and pretty blue eyes. I have no idea how it’s possible, but the sight manages to both comfort me and unsettle me. “And I thought I had a shit day.”
“I have a feeling yours wasn’t great either.” He reaches over, running a hand through my wet hair. His lips twitch toward a smile. “How was group therapy?”
“It… wasn’t as terrible as I thought, actually. Kind of nice to hear that everyone feels just as fucked up as me.”
His hand falls to the back of my neck, his fingers warm and soothing as he cups the spot, thumb stroking just below my ear. “You’re not fucked up, Case.”
