Rebel (Legend, #4)(72)

I try to picture two young boys bickering with each other while an infant version of me looked on. I try to imagine Daniel frantically putting out a kitchen fire while John watched in horror. The thought is so ridiculous that I can’t help a laugh from escaping my throat.

Daniel laughs once, too, and shakes his head. “I used to fight with him even more than I do with you. Everything was a battle. He hated how impulsive I was, how sometimes I’d stand in the street and complain about the police loud enough for everyone to hear. How many questions I’d ask about why Republic soldiers had roughed up our father or where he’d gone. I lost count of the number of times he had to drag me home after I’d gotten in some argument about Republic history with the kids at school. He was convinced I’d get myself killed someday with my carelessness, or that you’d pick up my bad habits.” He sighs. “I guess he wasn’t wrong.”

A breeze sweeps past us, bringing with it the scent of a Lake night—fried street food, smoke, briny water. I cross my legs and try to ignore the sudden lump that rises in my throat. “I should have listened to you,” I finally say, my voice so quiet that I can barely hear myself.

“I couldn’t protect you any more than John could protect me. You’ve seen the wrong in this world, powerful forces that no brother could ever hope to hide from you. And no matter what John did—or what I do—those things stay with us forever.”

I start shaking my head. “John shouldn’t have had that burden. You shouldn’t have.”

“Keeping you from the truth of the world only made it worse for you.” Daniel gives me a sad smile. “This place was your home too. Every single one of these rotting streets, these back alleys. This is where we were all raised, yeah? But I’m so afraid of this place, Eden. I’m afraid, even now. I wanted to hide it from you, like somehow that would keep you from being drawn back to it, so that you’d never have to know what it was like.” He shakes his head and stares out at the water. “Like somehow, us leaving this all behind meant that it didn’t exist anymore.”

I look out into the darkness, the voices crowding in my head. As always, I can feel myself pulling away, trying to shield the jumbled mess in my mind from Daniel, to turn it inward and let it churn there until it all fades again into the background. But it doesn’t fade.

Daniel’s looking at me now, and I realize it’s because there are tears streaming down my cheeks. I hadn’t even noticed when I started crying. Embarrassed, I wipe them angrily away and try to force myself back into a state of calm. But the tears keep coming. I can’t stop them.

Daniel reaches out and seizes both of my wrists in his hands. “Look at me,” he says, his eyes locking on to mine. They are fierce in the night, and in them I see the same brother who had once stood up to an entire nation. “It is not weakness to open your heart. It does not make you less of a man to ask for help. To turn to someone when you’re vulnerable. To need a shoulder to cry on. You don’t have to bear the weight of anything by yourself. Do you understand me? I know what it’s like to be forced to go it alone. I never want you to feel that way.”

I find myself nodding through my tears, wishing I could have turned to him sooner, wishing I could be more like him in every way. “I see them every night,” I say to him, my words breaking. “They’re there every time I close my eyes. I jump at every sound. I see a soldier in every person standing at a corner. I thought—I thought if I could just drown it all out in the Undercity, if I could replace it with something else so loud and overwhelming, that it might go away—I thought if I could just see the Republic again, return home and understand my past…”

The pain in Daniel’s eyes is raw and real. The fear of this was what had kept me silent for so long. He nods once, his hands firmly on my shoulders. “I see them too,” he says quietly. “I should have talked to you about my nightmares. I can’t expect you to open up to me if I don’t do the same.”

I nod again. “I’m sorry. I—”

“Don’t be.” His eyes soften, and he pulls me into a hug. “You didn’t do anything wrong.”

It is his embrace that finally breaks my last barrier. I cry and cry and cry. I cry because I’d never let myself truly understand my own brother, because I’d never understood myself. I cry for all the lives that our pasts have set on different paths—for June’s loss of her family, for Tess’s loss of her childhood, for Daniel becoming a parent when he was himself just a boy. I cry because I’m grateful that we still, in spite of everything, have all found each other.

Because sometimes, broken pieces find a way to make a new whole.





DANIEL



When we finally return to our apartment in the dark hours of the morning, Eden showers and collapses into a deep sleep. He doesn’t stir again until the sun has already risen high in the sky. At least he doesn’t seem to be dreaming.

I spend most of the time awake, leaning against our balcony railing, watching the headlines and videos rotate on the city’s JumboTrons. News about what’s happening in Antarctica comes out in a steady stream. I watch the screens and see tanks roll through the Undercity, making their way down streets full of bonfires and angry people. There are police struggling to contain the chaos.

ROSS CITY IN FLAMES AS TROOPS, BROKEN VIRTUAL SYSTEM STRUGGLE