I never imagined myself getting involved in this war. I\u2019d planned to throw myself into my political career after I finished with school and steer clear of my people\u2019s conflict with the volucri, but of course, I hadn\u2019t anticipated falling for Septima. <\/p>\n
We\u2019ve been acquainted since childhood, as our parents ran in the same social circles. I remember chasing her up the stairs while our parents sat at the dining room table discussing business, or maybe how humanity should\u2019ve had a tighter claim to Electra than the bird-men known as the volucri and how these beasts wanted us all dead to reclaim the land they\u2019d had to themselves before our people arrived. I remember eyeing with awe how meticulously pristine she kept her toys while mine had suffered breaks and scuffs from overuse. I didn\u2019t understand how anyone could be so careful and still manage to play. <\/p>\n
Then one evening, she tripped over a model spaceship I\u2019d left lying on the floor and tried to steady herself by grabbing onto one of her shelves, and the impact sent one of her delicate porcelain figurines–We can\u2019t play with those<\/em>, she\u2019d said, they\u2019re too fragile<\/em>–crashing onto the hardwood. I should\u2019ve known from the size her eyes swelled to that something horrible was going to come of this, but I tried to calm her, to tell her that her parents would understand that it had been an accident. I ran down the hall in search of a broom to sweep the mess away, but I froze outside her door on my way back at the boom of her father\u2019s voice from within, sliding back to flatten myself against the wall and avoid being seen. <\/p>\n \u201cStupid girl! Do you enjoy breaking things or are you just incapable of paying attention?\u201d <\/p>\n I\u2019d never heard the air go silent after a hand smacked flesh, and it wasn\u2019t until her father had gone and I hurried into the room, broom in-hand and heart thudding like a bird\u2019s wings against my ribs, that I understood that was what had happened when I took in the tears streaming down Septima\u2019s cheeks and the scarlet imprint of a hand on her pale face.<\/p>\n It was in my third year at the Electran Arts Academy–her second–that I realized I was completely in love with her. I was running late to class already, but I paused to hold the ladder that had started to sway as she descended from hanging a poster for the upcoming dance, bits of glitter flecking her face and her smile unwavering even as the ladder wobbled. She beamed at me. <\/p>\n \u201cIt\u2019s all coming together, Leo. I\u2019ve been going crazy trying to get everything organized–we\u2019ve gone through three different catering companies, but I think this one will work. I can\u2019t wait for you to see all of it.\u201d <\/p>\n She\u2019d found a way to give herself some form of control over her life–she\u2019d thrown herself into the dance preparations completely and given her whole self to them, and gods, I almost didn\u2019t recognize her. I\u2019d never seen her so happy, and I\u2019d never realized how beautiful she looked when she smiled, even with her makeup smeared from sweating and her nose peppered with glitter. I realized then that I\u2019d hardly ever seen her smile since our playdates had decreased in frequency after her father and mine had disagreed about something I couldn\u2019t recall, and I knew I wanted to see this expression much more often. She deserved happiness, and I planned to make sure she had it. <\/p>\n \u201cI can\u2019t wait to see,\u201d I told her. \u201cAre you going with anyone?\u201d She shook her head, and before I had time to second-guess the impulse, I blurted, \u201cWant to go with me?\u201d <\/p>\n Her smile brightened, and I knew I was trapped by my need to keep it in place, but I didn\u2019t mind. If she was happy, I would be. <\/p>\n \u201cI\u2019d love to,\u201d she said, and her blush mingled with the gold of the glitter. <\/p>\n Though we\u2019d known each other for so long, I was still somewhat surprised that she agreed. I had no idea at the time that I would become so entrapped within the war effort, but my plan to ascend to the Electran Senate wasn\u2019t something I bothered to hide, and I feared someone who disliked conflict as much as Septima would find little appeal in moving anywhere near the cutthroat world of politics. When I finally managed to ask her to dinner, however, my hands trembling behind my back as I walked her home from school the week after I\u2019d spent the entirety of the dance unwilling to let her leave my arms, she just smiled her crooked smile and asked \u201cWhat took you so long?\u201d <\/p>\n I\u2019ve always considered myself to be strong. She\u2019s the only one who\u2019s ever managed to bring out the cracks in my armor. <\/p>\n A few months ago, I was in the middle of a debate with one of my enemies in the Senate when a thunderstorm started to rock the building, and I let the man believe he\u2019d won the argument so that I could rush home, where I found Septima exactly where I knew she\u2019d be–curled in a ball on our bed, her hands pressed to her ears as she muttered that the storm would pass. The other Senator went on to brag about my concession, and I couldn\u2019t find it within myself to care, despite how embarrassed I should\u2019ve been, because at least I\u2019d gotten home in time to hold my wife through the worst bouts of thunder. <\/p>\n Storms and her father are the only things I\u2019ve ever known her to fear. I, on the other hand, have always been deathly afraid of the volucri. <\/p>\n The day the volucri bombed our high school, we\u2019d been together for less than a month. I followed the masses out onto the lawn and immediately began to scan the area for her. For what couldn\u2019t have been more than five minutes but felt like the sum of several lifetimes, I had no idea whether she\u2019d escaped, and I\u2019d just shoved my way through a group of teachers in my charge back toward the crackling, smoking building when I felt her hand on my arm. I can\u2019t recall a time before or since that I\u2019ve felt such indescribable relief, like I\u2019d finally reached shelter after being stranded in a hurricane. <\/p>\n \u201cYou\u2019re all right,\u201d I breathed, pulling her close. <\/p>\n \u201cI\u2019m fine, Leo,\u201d she assured me, tears shining in her eyes. A glance at her hands told me otherwise; her skin was covered in deep cuts and scrapes, blood caking her pale flesh. I reached for her wrist to lift it gently and examine her injuries, my brow furrowed. Septima sighed. \u201cA few people were trapped under rubble. I couldn\u2019t just leave them.\u201d <\/p>\n \u201cYou could\u2019ve been hurt. Badly. Or–\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cBut I wasn\u2019t,\u201d she snapped. \u201cAre you telling me you wouldn\u2019t have helped them?\u201d <\/p>\n \u201cOf course I would\u2019ve, but\u2026\u201d I paused, attempting to determine the best way to phrase my disagreement. Yes, I would\u2019ve done the same. Yes, I knew she\u2019d done the right thing. But the idea that she\u2019d been in danger charged through my mind like a livid hornet, leaving my thoughts a jumbled, buzzing mess. I could handle danger, but the thought of losing her\u2026 \u201cYou could\u2019ve been hurt,\u201d I said again, lamely. <\/p>\n She stared at me for a long moment, and then her face softened and she wound her arms around me. \u201cI\u2019m okay,\u201d she said. <\/p>\n But I wasn\u2019t about to allow any harm to come to her again while I was breathing. <\/p>\n I missed our third date to volunteer for a covert group led by Lieutenant Commander Moore. He called it the Human Liberation Army<\/em>, and at the time, I believed liberation was truly the goal. I thought we\u2019d finally be fighting the volucri in the open. I thought there would be a full-on war and then this would end. I didn\u2019t realize then that I\u2019d signed up to become a shadow in the night, gaining information by force and disposing of those who could offer no further assistance. <\/p>\n Now, a little more than a year into our marriage, I\u2019ve admitted exactly where I\u2019ve been going after the Senate adjourns and before I stumble in covered in injuries worse than those she sustained in the bombing–a broken clavicle, a few shattered ribs, my finger cut to the bone.<\/p>\n Perhaps I shouldn\u2019t have told her I\u2019ve killed. It was a weak moment, admittedly, but I had to tell someone, to unburden myself, and she\u2019s the only one I trust. <\/p>\n \u201cHow could you do this?\u201d she demands, her fists clenched so tightly her arms tremble and shake her shoulders violently. \u201cHow could you agree to help him with something so–so insane<\/em>? This isn\u2019t you, Leo. This isn\u2019t the man I married.\u201d Her lips are pressed into so tight a line they\u2019ve started to drain of color. <\/p>\n \u201cSepta\u2026\u201d I reach out for her shoulder, but she draws it back so quickly I flinch. I let out a frustrated cry, throwing up my hands in surrender. \u201cDon\u2019t you get it? This is all for you!\u201d <\/p>\n \u201cFor me?\u201d She rolls her eyes and shakes her head, scowling. \u201cThat\u2019s–\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cIt\u2019s true,\u201d I say through gritted teeth, my fingernails biting into my palms. This time, I\u2019ve come back with my chest aching, and I\u2019m afraid another rib is broken, but I ignore it, for now. I need to focus on Septima. \u201cFor you and the family we\u2019ve always wanted. Do you think I feel safe in a world where the volucri could wipe us out at any second? Do you think I want to bring our children into that world? If I can stop the volucri before they have the chance, then–\u201d<\/p>\n She laughs shortly and turns away, toward the wall. \u201cOh, so you\u2019re perfectly fine with throwing yourself into the line of fire. How the hell am I supposed to sleep, knowing you\u2019re out there risking your life?\u201d <\/p>\n I sigh and lay my hand on her arm, and she doesn\u2019t pull back, though she still doesn\u2019t look at me. \u201cI can only sleep,\u201d I tell her, \u201cbecause I know that if I\u2019m doing this, you won\u2019t have to.\u201d <\/p>\n \u201cYou\u2019re ridiculous,\u201d she says, and though her tone is hard, I catch sight of a tear sliding down her cheek. \u201cYou want to protect our future, but at what cost? I\u2019d never have asked you to go this far.\u201d <\/p>\n \u201cI\u2026 haven\u2019t scared you away, have I?\u201d My heart thuds against my ribs, and I\u2019m not sure I can bear the answer. I can\u2019t begin to imagine my life without her. <\/p>\n She\u2019s still for a moment, and then she lays her hand over mine on her arm. There\u2019s pain in her eyes, and I hate myself for causing it. \u201cSomeone has to help fix you when you come back like this,\u201d she says. \u201cYou\u2019re an idiot if you think I\u2019d let it be anyone else.\u201d <\/p>\n","protected":false},"excerpt":{"rendered":" I never imagined myself getting involved in this war. I\u2019d planned to throw myself into my political career after I finished with school and steer clear of my people\u2019s conflict with the volucri, but of course, I hadn\u2019t anticipated falling for Septima. We\u2019ve been acquainted since childhood, as our parents ran in the same social …<\/p>\n","protected":false},"author":84575,"featured_media":0,"comment_status":"open","ping_status":"closed","sticky":false,"template":"","format":"standard","meta":{"footnotes":""},"categories":[3,19584],"tags":[19585],"class_list":["post-111987","post","type-post","status-publish","format-standard","hentry","category-fiction","category-tcl-24-summer-2017","tag-the-colored-lens-24-summer-2017","entry entry-center"],"_links":{"self":[{"href":"http:\/\/thecoloredlens.com\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/posts\/111987","targetHints":{"allow":["GET"]}}],"collection":[{"href":"http:\/\/thecoloredlens.com\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/posts"}],"about":[{"href":"http:\/\/thecoloredlens.com\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/types\/post"}],"author":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"http:\/\/thecoloredlens.com\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/users\/84575"}],"replies":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"http:\/\/thecoloredlens.com\/index.php?rest_route=%2Fwp%2Fv2%2Fcomments&post=111987"}],"version-history":[{"count":1,"href":"http:\/\/thecoloredlens.com\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/posts\/111987\/revisions"}],"predecessor-version":[{"id":139476,"href":"http:\/\/thecoloredlens.com\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/posts\/111987\/revisions\/139476"}],"wp:attachment":[{"href":"http:\/\/thecoloredlens.com\/index.php?rest_route=%2Fwp%2Fv2%2Fmedia&parent=111987"}],"wp:term":[{"taxonomy":"category","embeddable":true,"href":"http:\/\/thecoloredlens.com\/index.php?rest_route=%2Fwp%2Fv2%2Fcategories&post=111987"},{"taxonomy":"post_tag","embeddable":true,"href":"http:\/\/thecoloredlens.com\/index.php?rest_route=%2Fwp%2Fv2%2Ftags&post=111987"}],"curies":[{"name":"wp","href":"https:\/\/api.w.org\/{rel}","templated":true}]}}