46 Liberation in Despair

They were gone, gone, gone.

And I was free, free, free.

Not really, of course. If anything, my days were probably numbered. They always have been, obviously, but now... now Zero and Mickey were out there, preparing to start their demented crusade, and who knows how many wraiths were about to become the collateral damage.

Who knows how many, but certainly me.

Or maybe not. Maybe, somehow, I'll slip through the cracks and survive, again. After all, I have until now, and the odds were never in my favor. But really, it didn't matter. Despite all logic, despite the direness of the situation, I felt free.

Because I knew now. No matter how sad, and horrible, and heartbreaking the truth about my mother's fate was, I finally knew what had happened, and how. The pain didn't subside, and the darkness didn't lift, but at least now I knew. And perhaps, soon, I'll be able to begin to heal.

I paced. I solved my Rubik's cubes. I played the piano. I tried to eat, and couldn't.

In the end, I put on my jacket and went outside.

#

It took me a few seconds to recognize the man who opened the door after I knocked. He looked at me expectantly, a polite smile on his face.

'Can I help you?'

Of course. I have forgotten about him. Tanya's husband would be home at this hour. Where else would he be? I wasn't thinking clearly.

'Uh... yes. I'm looking for Ta... Mrs. Duncan. Is she home?'

He looked at me with uncertainty. I probably wasn't looking too trustworthy, at this early hour. Maybe he even remembered me from the party.

'What is this about?'

My eyes twitched a little. I searched my mind for a convenient lie and, for the first time, came out empty. I swallowed too much truth in the past twenty-four hours, and now it was inside me, burning away the protective shell of bullshit I've built around me. The truth, then.

'I just... I just really need to talk to her.'

Peter... that was his name, right?... gave me a long doubtful look, then moved aside.

'Come in, please. It's cold outside. I'll fetch her.'

Damn, why did he have to be so nice?

I stepped inside, only then noticing the biting cold. My hands should have been numb, but they weren't. My hair was dry despite the snow outside. I was strangely warm. At that moment, Tanya came down from the stairs, dressed for work. She froze on the last step, looking at me.

'Honey, this young man is here to talk to you.'

She lingered for a moment and then smiled.

'Oh, right. Peter, this is Matthew. He is a client.' She gave me another look. 'From the outreach program.'

He smiled.

'Alright. I'll be upstairs.'

Then it was just the two of us. Tanya was looking at me without an expression, a shadow over her eyes. I licked my lips. Finally, she moved.

'How about some coffee?'

#

'Cut that shit out, Matt. You're almost steaming.'

I searched myself and noticed the Affects I was holding in my mind, keeping myself warm. When did I learn to do that? Probably when I was stalking Zero through the snow.

Zero...

I released the Affects, and we sat at the table for a few long minutes, silent. I was shivering, not knowing what exactly to say. Tanya probably didn't know what exactly she was ready to learn. Finally, she looked at me with her green, green eyes, and I noticed dark circles under them.

'So you found my father.'

'Yeah.'

'And did he told you what you wanted to know?'

I blinked, remembering. The events of the past night were feverish and blurry, but yes, he did.

'He told me a lot of things.'

Her shoulders dropped, and for the first time since I knew her, Tanya looked vulnerable. Almost defeated.

'So it's true then. He is... was with the PA.'

'He was.'

She swallowed and turned away. I noticed her hands trembling. Some time passed before she spoke again:

'... How is he?'

I remembered the Protector, so long ago, leaning in and saying: 'Twenty-three people are killed by a genetically altered person. How many are left alive?'.

'He's mad with the Disease.'

She nodded slowly.

'Tanya... he told us things. Important, impossible things.'

'And you believed him?'

'I... I don't know. Some of what he said felt like truth. But some of it sounded... off. I think that Zero is full of shit. I think every word he said was meant to produce a certain effect. But it doesn't mean he was lying.'

'You shouldn't have believed him.'

'But if you'd only knew...'

'No!'

She stood up and leaned on the table, dark fire in he eyes.

'Don't tell me. I know one thing, and it is enough: he is poison! He poisoned enough of my life already. I won't allow him to break everything that I've built, again. Whatever he told you, whatever truths you learned, I don't want it. I don't want him.'

Zero's words boiled inside me, asking to be let out. The burden of their unreleased power was almost unbearable. But I forced them down my throat, stifled them, and kept silent.

'Okay, Tanya. Okay.'

She straightened and looked around, as though taking in the cozy kitchen of her little house for the first, or last, time.

'Where's Mickey?'

'He left with your father. He called me a traitor.'

Tanya quickly turned, and spat:

"He's the traitor!'

The machine beeped, announcing that the coffee is ready. I remembered how it all started -- in an old bar, with me, Claire, and a cold cup of coffee. It was so long ago.

Tanya poured us two cups and sat down.

'It is like this, Matt. Most of the things in this life, you can't control. Who your parents are. How you are raised. What happens to you. What happens to the ones you love. And for us, wraiths, it's double that. We are slaves of the fortunes. But some things we can control, little things like the choices we make, people we hurt, bonds we forge. And because of what we are, every choice matters so much more. Every thing we create for ourselves is worth so much more. Because of how much we must struggle to create them.'

She looked me in the eyes, coffee forgotten in her hands.

'I've fought to be where I am. To be in this house. To be able to love someone. To be good at my job. I've fought, Matt. And for me, it's enough. Being a good person is enough. Being happy is enough. Being loved is enough. And if Mickey thinks that it is not, that it somehow makes us lesser than people like him and my father -- he's the traitor.'

'But Mickey and Zero, they want...'

'Fuck Mickey! Fuck Zero. Fuck what they want.'

She leaned forward.

'What do you want?'

I sat, and drank my coffee, and thought, and the answer came so fast I almost smiled. It was very simple.

'I want to survive. No. I want to be alive. For as long as I can.'