Their paths had to part again. The first separation had been extremely easy. After all, he had lost consciousness from the pain, from his injuries, and by the time he opened his eyes he had been alone.

With the only company of a sword twice his size at the time.

He hadn't had to suffer in parting because he hadn't been awake when the time came. He had felt the pain afterwards.

For weeks, months. Ah, who was he kidding?

Years, he'd dragged it out for years.

Now he would have to be awake, Abigail would not leave him while he was in the land of unconsciousness. But, in a way, this would be easier. Or at least it should be easier.

Because he was certain that they would meet again, even if it would take a long time.

So why couldn't he utter a single word? Why was his throat clogged and his eyes burning with unshed tears?

Even if he could speak, he wouldn't know what to say, so it would be useless.

In the end what he did was hug her desperately, as if he was lost at sea and she was his lifeline. His savior hugged him back, and it was a soft, warm embrace like a mother's. Her warmth enveloped him.

Her warmth enveloped him. Her long hair brushed his forehead, his cheeks.

They were like loving caresses. Or soft kisses.

"We'll meet again," his savior promised, whispering in his ear. Soon. I promise.

Her voice was the straw that broke the camel's back. What made him burst into tears. He didn't know how many times he had cried in the last few days, how frustrated he had felt, humiliated.

But this time it was different.

This time they were tears of joy. His savior wanted him by her side.

She hadn't left him alone for ten years for nothing, and it wasn't that she wanted to use him. She needed him so she could finally die, that was true. But if that was all it was about, she would have pushed him to end it all tonight. And she would have succeeded.

He thought they were both well aware of that. That maybe he would have protested, at first, but it wouldn't have taken him long to give in.

She loved him... Someone really loved him.

Mom. Oh, Mom.

He hugged her tighter than before, carried away by that thought, which was....

He'd say crazy, but it wasn't really, was it? He had called her that. It had escaped him, after she had kissed him, and his savior had not reacted with disgust. Nor the other way around, nor had she called him son or anything of the sort....

But it had to mean that she had accepted him as such, didn't it?

That the last life she wanted to live by his side was a life with the two of them as mother and son.

It wasn't crazy. Definitely not.

It was the future. Even if it seemed so distant now that it would never come, that future would come.

It was very long and very short, very sweet and very painful, at the same time. When they parted, Desmond turned away, muttering a farewell he didn't remember only five seconds later.

And he started to walk. Over the corpses, through the trees.

Through the darkness of the night, towards the nearest town.

He went in search of them. Could it be said that he found them or that the cops found him first? In any case, they took him to a police station and there he explained the situation. In his own way. Omitting the most crucial details.

They left him waiting in the interrogation room, although they treated him well, brought him something to eat and drink.

He had been allowed to take a shower, too. With his clothes in this state, so stained with blood, he stank of death anyway, but the shower gave him a few moments of relaxation in which he didn't have to think about anything except what he was doing.

Besides, it should have done something about the smell. Even if it wasn't much.

Desmond took a deep breath, looked up at the ceiling.

He was a hero who, along with his friends and his savior, had foiled the plans of an invading force that had set up shop in the middle of enemy territory, fearlessly. Dogs of the Empire who now even employed people from Albion, in order to get what they wanted.

But he didn't feel like a hero. He didn't feel rewarded for his efforts, nor did he believe the reward would come any time soon. Or at all.

Still, he didn't care. He hadn't chosen this life seeking attention.

Seeking people's praise.

He had only sought the attention and praise of a single person. Even looking at things that way, the conversation he'd had with his savior...with Abigail, he dared to say, to make it clear that things had changed a lot in one night, had been painfully brief.

A taste of heaven shortly after being dropped back into hell.

Along with all the dead sinners. All the souls crying out, asking for absolution.

That is, along with the rest of the filth.

He wasn't a normal person; he didn't fit in with normal people. But he seemed to belong here rather than at his savior's side, as much as that was his greatest wish. For he was just like them.

Tonight, in case it hadn't been clear to him yet, he had proven it to himself again. That truth.

I'm like a rabid dog, I thought. And it was true.

But she... Abigail, she would make him better. Just spending time with her soothed his soul.

That's how the headmaster found him. Staring at the ceiling gawking, deep in thought like a child thinking about his first love.

"There you are." Should he feel honored that Jacob had come to see him in person for the second time? "We have a lot to talk about."

Desmond lowered his head and looked into his eyes, frowning slightly.

"Yes, I imagine so. However, Headmaster, with all due respect... I've already been questioned several times. I've told the story ad nauseam. And I'm hurt, and I'm tired, and all I want to do is rest. This is the last thing I want."

"I understand. And I don't want to seem insensitive... ah, who am I kidding? I'm too old to beat around the bush in front of a child. Yes, Desmond, I'm an insensitive bastard who doesn't really care all that much about what you've been through tonight. I want to hear what happened from your lips anyway. Not the account written by a third party, with its possible gaps, misinterpretations, and so on."

Eren was a bit taken aback by his brutal honesty.

But, in a way, he appreciated it at the same time. He didn't like to mince words either, because being direct was what he was best at.

"Still, as promised, I will be brief," Jacob continued. "I am a cold man... But I have a heart. I vaguely remember how one should feel after going through something like this."

How should you feel? What did he mean by that?

Well, no, that was the least of it. Once again, Eren began to speak.

■

"What should I say? "Desmond asked.

"By the time you get there, one of your friends, the one who's well, will most likely have already been questioned. Not to mention you're like an open book. I wouldn't trust you to be able to act and lie convincingly enough. No offense intended.

"No offense taken. "After all, it was the truth, whether he liked it or not. Subtleties were not his thing.

"So don't do either," she continued. Just omit what you know about me. Ideally, you wouldn't even have to talk about me. But I don't see that as possible.

"I'm... I'm not so sure. I don't know you very well, Mrs....

"Ma'am? "repeated his savior, with a sort of smug smile.

"Well, I just want to show you the respect you deserve. Calling you by your name seemed too forward. And savior or goddess, a little.... "Desmond fell silent. His cheeks turned red as tomatoes.

"Is that how you think of me? They're much nicer names than demon, abomination, or witch, that's for sure. But yes, it would make me uncomfortable if you called me savior or goddess. And lady is not to my liking either. Just call me Abigail. I want to have a relationship with you. Not be on top of you. Do you understand?

Desmond nodded slowly.

"All right. "What were you saying?

"Ah, yes. That they... I think they're smart enough to keep their mouths shut. Not because of you, not even because of me. But because, despite their duty as soldiers, your existence is clearly dangerous knowledge that it's better for them to pretend not to know. They know practically nothing about why everything happened tonight..., but that's all the more reason to wait and see, rather than be incautious. At least... that's what I think they'll do.

He sincerely believed it. But he couldn't be one hundred percent sure, not until the end. So the decision of his savi.... Abigail's, had been the right one, as he should have known all along by the mere fact that it had come from her lips.

A person who had lived hundreds of years, at the very least. Perhaps hundreds of thousands of years.

A person who had forgotten more things than he had learned in a lifetime.

The scale of her experience he couldn't even imagine.

So why had he felt the need to open his mouth to say something so useless? Was he an idiot?

"If they give you reason to believe that they don't know anything about me, or at least that they haven't said anything, then don't mention me. But don't try to lie or exaggerate to hide the truth. Just omit.

It didn't need repeating, but Desmond nodded obediently as if it was the first time he had heard that.

She didn't know him, so there was nothing wrong or strange about her feeling the need to make sure he understood. Now it was up to him to prove that he could be trusted. In that sense and many others.

It was up to him to take his second chance, not so that she wouldn't write him off, but so that she wouldn't have to give him a third, in her infinite goodness.

■

■

"What should I say? "Desmond asked.

"By the time you get there, one of your friends, the one who's well, will most likely have already been questioned. Not to mention you're like an open book. I wouldn't trust you to be able to act and lie convincingly enough. No offense intended.

"No offense taken. "After all, it was the truth, whether he liked it or not. Subtleties were not his thing.

"So don't do either," she continued. Just omit what you know about me. Ideally, you wouldn't even have to talk about me. But I don't see that as possible.

"I'm... I'm not so sure. I don't know you very well, Mrs....

"Ma'am? "repeated his savior, with a sort of smug smile.

"Well, I just want to show you the respect you deserve. Calling you by your name seemed too forward. And savior or goddess, a little.... "Desmond fell silent. His cheeks turned red as tomatoes.

"Is that how you think of me? They're much nicer names than demon, abomination, or witch, that's for sure. But yes, it would make me uncomfortable if you called me savior or goddess. And lady is not to my liking either. Just call me Abigail. I want to have a relationship with you. Not be on top of you. Do you understand?

Desmond nodded slowly.

"All right. "What were you saying?

"Ah, yes. That they... I think they're smart enough to keep their mouths shut. Not because of you, not even because of me. But because, despite their duty as soldiers, your existence is clearly dangerous knowledge that it's better for them to pretend not to know. They know practically nothing about why everything happened tonight..., but that's all the more reason to wait and see, rather than be incautious. At least... that's what I think they'll do.

He sincerely believed it. But he couldn't be one hundred percent sure, not until the end. So the decision of his savi.... Abigail's, had been the right one, as he should have known all along by the mere fact that it had come from her lips.

A person who had lived hundreds of years, at the very least. Perhaps hundreds of thousands of years.

A person who had forgotten more things than he had learned in a lifetime.

The scale of her experience he couldn't even imagine.

So why had he felt the need to open his mouth to say something so useless? Was he an idiot?

"If they give you reason to believe that they don't know anything about me, or at least that they haven't said anything, then don't mention me. But don't try to lie or exaggerate to hide the truth. Just omit.

It didn't need repeating, but Desmond nodded obediently as if it was the first time he had heard that.

She didn't know him, so there was nothing wrong or strange about her feeling the need to make sure he understood. Now it was up to him to prove that he could be trusted. In that sense and many others.

It was up to him to take his second chance, not so that she wouldn't write him off, but so that she wouldn't have to give him a third, in her infinite goodness.

■

"So you don't know why you were kidnapped instead of killed where you were? "Jacob insisted, leaning slightly back in his wheelchair, his hands clasped. It was a posture that gave him the air of a teacher, which was what he was, rather than that of an interrogator.

Still, Desmond was much more tense than when he had had to talk to the cops.

That man seemed cold, yes, of course he did.

Cold in the same way that Laura was. That is, empty, really. Cold was nothing more than the absence of warmth, after all. Had it not been for the fact that he had seen him mourn the death of the murdered teacher in his own way, he would have believed that he had hit the nail on the head with that impression.

That had been the one moment when he had shown himself as vulnerable as anyone else.

The only crack in his facade.

"No," Desmond replied, even though Abigail had instructed him not to lie. Faced with such a question he couldn't help himself. She would understand. However, what he intended wasn't to lie outright, but rather to dodge the truth. It was a crude technicality, but he hoped it would make it easier for him not to arouse suspicion. "And yes, they asked me questions, but none that I could make sense of."

"Maybe I'd have better luck."

He had promised his god... Abigail, that he would say nothing, absolutely nothing about her or anything even vaguely related.

However, it would be too suspicious to claim that he had been kidnapped by the enemy for no particular reason. Who was going to believe that? Even if the headmaster knew he was lying to him, he couldn't do anything against him without proof, but he would keep a closer eye on him accordingly. And sooner or later he would find something.

So he had to do this.

Even with this, it would draw Jacob's attention to him because he had gotten himself into too much trouble in too short a time.

First his resurrection, now this. As arrogant as it sounded, Desmond Orosco was not a name the director would soon forget.

But at least it could deflect the attention a bit, or perhaps better said, soften.

In any case, it was necessary. It was the best he could do, in his judgment. He only hoped Abigail would agree with him when he had a chance to explain.

Because he'd already gone too far to back out.

And he wasn't so good at quick thinking, not about matters like this in any case, as to change his answer in a few seconds.

"I'm afraid I must disappoint you. She didn't tell me anything useful. Asked me where she was, no more, insisted that I should know. After a while she left me there, in the cell. Then... Well, I think you know what happened next."

"She? That's it?"

"Yes. Maybe if I'd been smarter..."

"What?"

Oh, shit. He'd gotten nervous and started talking too much. That desperate need to explain himself, to cover all the angles, was something liars felt. Bad liars, specifically. Because so much effort only gave them away.

He understood the theory, about this and many other things about normal people. Putting it into practice was another story.

However, now that he had opened his big mouth, he had no other choice but to continue even if that path led to his ruin. I'm sorry, it's nothing. How the hell was Jacob going to let a response like that pass?

Of course not, so he'd screwed up . But he could still fix this.

"If I had played along.... " And, not knowing how to continue even though the idea was more or less clear in his head, he fell silent, searching for the right words.

Even though he was aware that with each passing second he increased the suspicions that had fallen on him.

Because a person who had nothing to hide wouldn't take so long, had no reason to think about it. The truth was the truth, after all. There was no more.

"Maybe you could have tricked her into telling you some things. Yeah, not a bad idea. But what's done is done, kid. There's no turning back now."

"I understand, sir. I'm sorry. I'm sorry."

It infuriated him to have to apologize when the three of them had done the work of the adults, dismantling a secret Empire base and the soldiers who occupied it, as well as those with different, non"combat duties, who were just as guilty. Scientists, medics, hell, even janitorial staff, probably.

They had done a complete job. From top to bottom.

It had been terrifying and many times he thought he would lose everything, that he was going to lose them all, but in the end they had made it.

He had done it, saving Abigail, crushing Laura's head.

But he was the one who had to apologize now. It was like a bad joke. It made him sick, but what good would it do him to lecture the director for the lousy job he and the education staff had done?

His every word would fall on deaf ears. He was a stupid kid and Jacob, just because he had spent a few more years than him on this world, knew better than he did and was right even if he wasn't right.

That's more or less how things work. The barrier between teenagers and adults.

Was he a teenager?

Adult enough to kill, to put his life at risk, but not to be treated with respect? To speak the truth openly, without fear of irrational repercussions?

Such fucking bullshit.

But he...he had made this decision.

Right now he could be halfway around the world, maybe, or literally anywhere, what mattered was that it would be next to Abigail. But he was sitting in this interrogation room, looking at a man he was quickly losing respect for -and not just a man, though he didn't want to admit it yet, something more fundamental- because he had made such a decision.

As an adult, as a soldier, he would bear the consequences.

As far as consequences go, swallowing his pride was a small one.

"You're looking at me as if to say why do I have to apologize."

Oh shit, he had caught him. But hey, better with this than with the other. This was insignificant, really.

"And you're right. "He hadn't expected that. "I'm the one who should apologize. I screwed up. I screwed up again. And others have paid the consequences. Again. Not only for not handling this attack better from the inside, but for not realizing sooner.... I thought Avery..."

Avery, dammit! He had completely forgotten.

He had to clear her name.

"She wasn't a traitor."

"Excuse me?"

"The woman who kidnapped me was another mage wearing her body. The real Avery... died long ago, and she replaced her."

Resting a hand on his cheek, Jacob turned his head and silence fell between them.

He thought he'd tell her, if he told her anything at all, that it didn't change anything. Except having another failure on his shoulders with which to

He thought he would tell her, if he told her anything at all, that it didn't change anything. Except having another failure on his shoulders that he would torment himself with for a long time.

But when he broke the silence, Jacob said the following:

"Thank you." Plain and simple. Then: "Gather your things. We're getting out of here."

■

Eren went back to the room being careful not to make any noise, very slowly, without turning on the light because he didn't even need it.

Still, he wasn't able to go unnoticed. Because Amy wasn't asleep. She was sitting on her bed, in the dark, staring at nothing. Not like she was waiting for something to happen. More like she was asleep or unconscious, even though her eyes were open.

And Christina? Christina wasn't there, of course. He had known even before he opened the door.

That the girl was in no condition to lie on the bed in her room as if nothing had happened to her.

Amy looked at him. Quietly, she stood up on shaky legs, turning on the light.

She walked over to him and... He had expected her to start screaming. That she would slap him.

In the end the expected third thing came true. But only halfway. Amy gave him a tight hug, squeezing him so hard it hurt, but didn't follow it up with a slap. Or a knife"sharp accusation whispered in his ear, which would have been just as... no, worse still, certainly.

Desmond tentatively returned the hug.

"I'm sorry," Desmond said.

Amy pulled away from him slightly, but without letting go, just enough to look him in the eye.

"What are you talking about? I'm the one who should apologize."

"What? I... I turned my back on you, I abandoned you. Without explanations, without anything, I betrayed you. Not that explaining would have made it any better, but..."

Amy broke away from him, left her hands on his cheeks.

"You're... You're a complete idiot, you know that, don't you?"

"That's why I wanted to apologize."

Amy shook her head. She dropped her hands.

"You idiot. You, betray us? You opened a path for us, gave us a chance to escape, and then you went to save that woman? You went to kill and protect, to do your duty as a soldier. I ran without looking back."

"You didn't have a choice, it was for Christina's sake, but I did.I could have stayed with you. My savior would probably have managed without me just fine.... I pursued her not out of duty. Out of selfishness. Because... I wanted to see her, just like that... You could have died because of me..."

"None of the three of us handled the situation perfectly. Let's leave it at that, shall we? You have nothing to be ashamed of. Remember."

Desmond nodded like a child being scolded by his mother.

"So her name is Abigail. You have to tell me everything. I don't want to pressure you, but..."

"I'll tell you. And you'll tell me how Christina is doing."

The girl's face darkened, which was answer enough. But he wouldn't falter until he heard the details. He refused to believe, though perhaps for no reason at all, that this expression meant Christina was dying far away from them.

He swallowed hard.

"But first," he continued, "I'm going to take a shower. And change my clothes. I've never needed anything so badly in my life."