#rc abel

Audrey was only able to push away her guilt for so long. Along with the light only just seeping through the palace windows, she slipped into the room given to Lane. Her words came out anxious and fast. “Will you be all right?”

Will, not are. Lane appreciated the difference. Audrey was perhaps the only other person in existence who could understand what she had just been through, having passed on the accumulation of sins she’d absorbed from her during their last meeting. Though Lane guessed her experience hadn’t been as nearly as…intimate. 

Will I be able to endure this? It was a thought that kept returning during the sleepless night. Another was the memory of that woman - the immortal who told them that for the balance to be restored, Lane would have to die. Find another way or accept death. She might as well have told Lane to kill herself. 

As if reading her thoughts, Audrey remarked quietly, “Shephamalum won’t let you die so easily.”

Something about the way she said it, combined with how dull she had appeared in their last visit, made Lane ask a question she normally wouldn't have. “It sounds like you’re speaking from personal experience?”

Audrey laughed, but there was no humour in it. She slid to the floor next to Lane, who obediently scooted over to make room, and tilted her head up to face the ceiling, as if she was searching for life’s answers from a god who no longer existed. Her confession was sudden and frank. 

“I died four years ago.”

Lane jolted. Audrey met her gaze calmly. When Lane didn’t say anything, she continued. 

“It was a few weeks after we met. Someone I thought was a friend poisoned me. I died in the garden.” She went quiet for a bit, obviously struggling with the memory. “My friends made a deal. My life for their servitude. They didn’t consider how unbearable my new life would be. That Shephamalum could destroy me and bring me back as many times as he pleased.”

The silence that followed felt too vulnerable. Eager to break it, Lane blurted out the first thing that came to her mind. “I went to Astrea. I stole some of your clothes.”

The unexpected confession shocked a startled laugh out of Audrey.

“I found the Spear of Longinis. I killed Baal.”

Audrey smiled viciously. “Good.”

It seemed Lane had taken over her friend’s confession. All her failures spilled out of her mouth like dirty water. “The Spear is broken now. And Shephamalum destroyed the Book of the Apocalypse.”

“We’ve given too much of our lives to it anyway. It’s time for something new.” Audrey left Lane to ponder her words for a bit, then stood and helped her to her feet. “Come on. You should get cleaned up.”

Lane allowed the physical remnants of Shephamalum to be washed away by the water and pretended the mental ones would do the same. She hid everything else behind an icy facade. It was with that mask on that she greeted the squad, who were anxiously awaiting her return at the estate. They immediately swarmed her, bursting with questions about her welfare and the dark god. She was hesitant to meet the eyes burning into her from the back of the group. Dmitry may not have possessed the immortal ability to see into her mind, but he did have an unnerving habit of guessing exactly what she was thinking. Mask or not. 

Heels clicked against tiles, announcing the arrival of the professor and silencing the murmurs. She ran a critical eye over her most valuable chess piece. “You’re in one piece. Good.”

“Torendo was captured,” Lane told her. “We won’t be seeing him any time soon.”

Donovan took in the report expressionlessly. “Anything else?”

“The Book is gone. The god of darkness destroyed it.” 

Lane braced herself, expecting an angry reprimand. But Donovan merely sighed, fingers twitching towards the cigars in her pocket. 

“Our ancestors were able to make do without such things when they began mapping the earth. If we can’t adapt to our circumstances with all the knowledge we have now, we deserve to fail.” 

With that, the professor turned and went back the way she came. Lane stared at the others questioningly.

“Donovan’s in a strange mood. I think it's related to the construction of the new city," Greg explained. “We’re calling it Lazarus.”

Fitting. 

Anna clicked her teeth. “Enough. You're going to bore her to death. We should just be grateful we all made it through.”

“What do you mean?” 

She had taken absence of a certain pair of snowy white heads to mean the angels were simply off on some mission. But now…

“Where are Cain and Abel?" 

Surely she would have felt through the bond if something had happened? 

“Abel’s taken your spot in the med wing.”

“And Cain?”

“With him, believe it or not.”

“It’s weird,” Noah muttered. “I kind of wish they’d go back to hating each other.”

Ignoring him, Dmitry said, “It seems that our alliance with the god of darkness has earned us new enemies.” 

“Maybe not,” Yan said. “The immortals we faced spared us.”

Noah rolled his eyes. “Yes, because not killing you is the greatest indication of trustworthiness.”

Lane cleared her throat. “There’s something else.” 

Haltingly, she described her encounter with the immortal woman, leaving out key information like the balance and sins. She resented having to tell them anything at all, but knew the danger would be greater if they weren’t aware of the new target on her, and therefore their, backs. As it was, Dmitry already looked as if he’d aged another ten years. There was no need to burden him further. 

“Anna is right, we can deal with this a bit later. I’ll increase the guards watching you until Abel recovers. And one of the squad will also accompany you at all times.” 

Agreeing to reconvene in the morning, they all went their separate ways. Dmitry escorted her to her room in silence, apparently taking on the duty of first watch. 

He waited until they were privately secluded away behind her door to speak. “How are you?”

“I’m fine.” 

The words came out automatically. They didn’t convince the general.

“Didn’t we agree there would be no more lies?”

“I don’t know what you want me to say. I’m here, aren’t I?”

“If that’s become the bare minimum, I’m afraid for humanity’s future.”

Lane arched an eyebrow, unimpressed. 

Dmitry conceded, “All right, it’s been a tough few days. We’ll revisit it later.”

Lane nodded, though she had no intention of following through. And for once, she was grateful for the scheduling that made her sermons and Dmitry’s missions clash with any spare time either of them had. But Lane had forgotten that Dmitry could be just as stubborn as her when he wanted to be. She was perusing a book she’d swiped from the estate library when he interrupted her, tossing a bunch of fabric her way. 

“Get changed. You’re overdue for a training session.”

Lane almost groaned. “Can it wait? I literally just sat down.”

“The enemy won’t care if you’re exhausted. Consider it practice. Now, let’s go.”

She trudged after him with leaden legs and showed equal amounts of enthusiasm as she half-heartedly copied the demonstrated moves. After an hour or so, Dmitry finally took pity on her, allowing her to drop flat on her back on the cool floor. 

“Do you need me to carry you back?”

“Just imagine the rumours.”

She allowed herself a few more seconds, then started going through her stretches with the hope that she could avoid waking up in hell the next morning. Or at least less of a hell; her life wasn’t exactly sunshine and rainbows at the moment. 

“If I cared about rumours, I wouldn’t have invited you to train down here in the middle of the night.”

“Are you saying you had ulterior motives?”

“Did you think my intentions were pure?” He pulled her up from the floor, but didn’t let go immediately. “I can tell you right now, Lane, that when it comes to you, my intentions have never been pure.”

Looking into Dmitry’s eyes usually conjured the image of a winter landscape, icy glaciers drifting over a vast expanse of deep blue. Right now, though, Lane only felt heat in his gaze. The already small distance between them seemed to narrow – all it would take was a step, and the delicate balance would topple. She wasn’t sure if it was her or Dmitry who took that step, but the distance disappeared. Hands searched greedily for skin, eager to tear away the thin barrier of fabric. They ended up back on the floor, a position that turned out to be disadvantageous for Lane. Dmitry chuckled as she struggled to remove her top. Lane huffed. 

“Are you going to help me or laugh at me?”

Dmitry leaned forward, his dog tags clinking together, and instead of the icy floor, Lane felt the cold surface of a dining table press into her back. Shephamalum loomed over her, thin fingers prodding her as he examined his meal. Every muscle in her body tensed as she was caught between the desire to run or scream. Then, warm hands touched her face. The stench of rotting flesh faded, replaced by the familiar and soothing scent of gunpowder and whiskey. 

“Lane?” Dmitry hovered over her, concern clear in his eyes.

Forcing a weak smile, Lane gently pushed him away. “We probably shouldn’t be doing this here; anyone could walk by and see. Let’s go to my room?”

She winced as the words came out. Yes, because it’s likely that others would want to train at this godforsaken hour. Then she felt guilty for even thinking Dmitry would question her. Because all he did was help her to her feet. 

Any further plans were ruined as soon as she touched the bed, her body succumbing to sleep. But though her physical self was exhausted, her mind was not. It sliced together her worst memories – the fight with General Lloyd; Baal’s torture; the recent ordeal with Shephamalum –  into a looping slideshow of nightmares. 

This didn’t go unnoticed by Dmitry, who was used to sleeping lightly and on the alert for any sign of danger. The first sound of distress woke him from his slumber. The second had him tensing and reaching for a weapon. It was only by the third whimper that he realised there was no physical threat, only a mental one. One he was helpless to guard against. He knew from dealing with traumatised soldiers that it was best to not wake someone from a night terror, but it was hard to do nothing when the person suffering was Lane. She had given so much to the world already. She deserved at least a few hours of peace. 

Lane twisted beneath the sheets, sweat beading at her brow. She moaned again, kicking out at a nonexistent enemy. When it proved unsuccessful, she began to plead. “Stop…It hurts…” 

Her next words made his blood run cold. 

“Don’t touch me! Get off!”

He couldn’t bear it any more. “Lane! Wake up!”

She came to fighting, still lashing out at a threat that only existed in her mind. Dmitry didn’t try to stop her, not even as her nails drew blood, concerned that restricting her movement would heighten her fear. Finally, her gaze cleared. Recognition sparked in her eyes. 

“Dmitry…?” She looked at him, registered the scratches, then recoiled. “I’m sorry–”

“It’s fine.” Struggling to find the right words, he silently handed her his flask. 

Her lips twitched faintly as the scent of alcohol brought back a memory from her first days at Rotkov, when her nightmares had driven her to the sitting room. That time, it had been him drinking. 

Dmitry was lost in similar thoughts. He recalled what had happened soon after that meeting, when suspicion and overcaution had driven him to a decision that was objectively the right measure to take at the time, but still left him uneasy. He’d sworn to himself to never force answers from Lane again, and he wasn’t about to break that oath now. Hopefully, a nudge would be enough. 

“Whatever happens, you can talk to me. You know that, right?”

“I know. Thank you.” 

Despite her words, Lane didn’t look like she’d be opening up anytime soon. 

She fidgeted under the general’s knowing stare, then blurted out, “Actually, I think I could use some tea.” 

She had clearly intended on fetching it herself, but Dmitry was already moving. He had a headstart on Lane, who had tangled herself in the bedsheets during her throes. 

“I’ll be right back.”

He strode quickly and purposefully, knowing it was the best way to avoid being flagged down by people who decided they required his opinion on whatever inane objective they had in mind. 

Perks of being the general, Lester had said. It had earned him a shift in the dead hours of the morning, tucked away in a particularly drafty corner of the base. 

Luckily, said late hour meant the living area was almost completely empty. It was occupied only by a single figure, hunched over a glowing chemlight and scribbling something furiously. Anna, likely obsessing over her latest research. She didn’t look up as she greeted him.

“Everything all right?”

He hummed noncommittedly as he set the water to boil and dug out some tea leaves. He felt eyes boring into him from behind as he rifled through the cupboards for a thermos. Sure enough, the silence didn’t last long.

“The walls are pretty thin.”

Dmitry raised an eyebrow, waiting for her to get to the point. She sighed.

“I didn’t want to overhear anything I shouldn’t, so I came out here.”

“Your sacrifice is noted.”

He stared at the tea, as if his gaze alone could make it steep faster. 

Anna said very quietly, “Do you think she’ll ever tell us about it? Her time with Baal?”

Dmitry’s reply was just as quiet. “I don’t know. But it isn’t our place to push. All we can do is wait, and hope she comes to us if she needs help.”

The tea was finished. He poured it into a thermos and turned to leave, but a sudden request made him pause.

“Would you tell Lane to come by my lab in the morning? Just to make sure nightmares are the only side effects of this whole thing.”

Lane took the news with as much enthusiasm one would expect from someone being told they’d be prodded with numerous needles, which is to say, none. It was with resignation that they made their way to the lab at dawn. 

“We should do a full physical, just in case.”

Up until now, Lane had obediently sat still and followed Anna’s various orders. The new set of instructions made her pause. She cast an uncertain glance in Dmitry’s direction. Anna rolled her eyes.

“Lane, I’m well aware that my brother has seen you naked before. There’s no need for modesty.”

But Lane’s lips had pressed together in a stubborn line Dmitry was all too familiar with. 

“It’s fine, I’ll wait outside.”

And he did wait. And wait. And wait. As the clock ticked closer toward his scheduled training for the new recruits, he strained his ear to try and figure out just what was taking them so long. But unlike the estate walls, the walls of the research base were thick, reinforced concrete. He couldn’t hear a thing. Not wanting to leave without a word, he decided he’d stick his head back in, let them know he had to go, and then make his way to the barracks. But as soon as he crossed the threshold, he froze in his tracks. 

Lane had stripped down to her underwear, revealing unnaturally pale skin. It was concerning, but not what caught his attention. No, what drew his attention was the ink spilled across her stomach and smudged over her collarbone. Because what initially appeared to be ink stains weren’t ink stains at all – they were bruises. 

The door handle creaked treacherously under his grip, and Lane looked up. She yanked a blanket around her torso, but it couldn’t erase what Dmitry had just seen. He had several urges at once: to shout at her for keeping secrets yet again; to destroy the beings that left those marks on her; to kneel at her feet and beg her forgiveness for not being able to protect her. But her face shuttered — the way it did when she withdrew deep into herself, miles away where no one could find her — so Dmitry did the only thing he could do. He sat down next to her and took her hand, holding it tight. 

“I’m here, I’m with you. I’m not leaving you.” Even if you don’t tell me anything. Even if you insist on handling everything yourself.

Hesitantly, Lane met his gaze. He let her see the truth of his words. Allowed her to process what he meant. And slowly, she squeezed back.

Anna ignored them both, fixed on running her tests. She didn’t like what she saw. “I don’t understand. These markers…It’s like your body is…”

Lane quietly completed the sentence: “Failing.”

Anna thought out loud. “You were doing relatively okay after the surgery. It was the presence of the cult members and sins that caused problems, the accumulation of sins, as it were. But the bruises…They only appear at the site of transference, correct? Which means it has to be that process that’s causing all of this. We just need to understand why.”

“Oh, is that all?”

Was it a good sign she was back to being sarcastic? Dmitry wasn’t sure, but he would take it. He cleared his throat. “We’re counting on you, Anna.”

“I am a scientist after all. And almost a doctor. Just don’t start coming to me for therapy. Psychiatry was never my thing.”

At that, Lane did laugh. A real one, like that time they’d ziplined through Atlantis. And it reassured Dmitry that she wasn’t ready to give up. 

“Don’t worry,” she said, eyes sparking at an inside joke only she knew. “I know a pretty good psychiatrist.”