Laura Nolen - The Fall

Wait, that wasn’t a bed. Not exactly.

I turned back to Eren, who’d followed me. “You sleep in a crib ?”

“I kinda put the mattress on the floor, and my legs hang over the—you know what? That’s not important right now.”

“Why?”

“Because you get a little stabby when you’re sleeping.”

“That.” I pointed. “That is a nursery .” My hand went to my belly, and I searched my memory for evidence of a pregnancy. Not that I knew what that might involve, but nothing came to mind.

“You never—we never—Char, nothing happened. They made it a nursery for appearances. This was a long time ago.”

“You’re not that naïve. It’s just a matter of time, Eren. Adam gets bored. He’ll want a new toy.”

“He insisted,” Eren said. “He controls everything.”

“Yeah. Kinda worked that one out already.” I leaned in and lowered my voice. “Eren, this room is bugged. It’s gotta be.”

He shrugged and spoke normally. “It is. I found four.”

“That means there are at least eight, and two of them probably aren’t even electronic.”

“That’s what you said last time,” he said mildly.

“ Last time? Catch me up a little faster, here.”

He shrugged, and I had the impression that he was trying to force his voice to sound bored. “You wake up like this every so often. We talk, and you go back into stasis. I don’t think it bothers him.”

I slid the door to the nursery firmly shut and leaned against the formica counter in the kitchen. A cold prickle waved through the back of my skull. “Eren, how long have I been… asleep?”

He rubbed the side of his head, looking pained. “Well, technically, it’s not sleep; it’s more like stasis. The body ages, but the mind—”

“How long, Eren.”

“You always ask this. It’s not going to—”

“How. Long.”

He met my eye. “Five years.”

Reeling, I put out a hand. He grabbed it, steadying me, but released me as soon as I had my balance.

Five years.

Five years of droning on through meaningless, mindless tasks in Central Command, unable to form memories or connections, while the Arks barreled on toward Eirenea. Five years of listening to Adam talk, of hearing his taunts. Of watching him build a great and merciless empire on board the Ark.

Five years of a lifeless “marriage” to Eren, who clearly no longer returned my affections.

Five years of planning my escape.

It seemed to me that it had passed overnight, but I read the exhaustion in Eren’s face, and I knew that what we’d once had together was long adrift, gone to sea. No one loves a puppet.

That had been my choice, too. Before all of this, I’d told Eren that we couldn’t be together anymore, that we had bigger things to focus on. That I had to become more than a daughter, or even a wife. So I set him free.

And judging by the speed with which his hand had pulled away from mine, he was free indeed.

“That makes me… twenty-two years old.”

I heard a note of panic rising up in my voice, but Eren just stared at me like he’d seen this scene play out before.

“Eren, I have to get out of here.”

“You say that, too,” he said quietly.

“I have to find my family. Do I say that?”

He gave me a sympathetic nod. “Then you won’t let me stay with you. You get back in bed. But you keep the light on all night, like you’re trying to stay awake.”

I hobbled over to his wardrobe, leaving the blanket on the cold floor. Maybe he had a pair of pants I could wear if I rolled the legs up.

The row of uniforms perfectly tailored to my size was like a slap in the face. I yanked one down and stepped into it angrily, pulling it up over my hips and around my nightshirt. Of course they fit me. They were my clothes. I lived here. Eren moved to help with the zipper, but I shrugged him off angrily. It took longer, but I’d far rather put on my own clothes than accept one more second of his sympathy.

I yanked my ID card off the mattress and pulled Eren’s shoulder down towards mine, so that I could whisper directly into his ear. Maybe Adam had planted a bug right inside Eren’s head, and I’d never be free of him. Maybe his Lieutenant noticed the syringe I’d swiped, and he was waiting for me just outside the door. At that moment, I didn’t even care. I was furious. “I’m leaving,” I muttered. “Right now. And you can come or not; I don’t care.” I pulled away, meeting his gaze with fire. “Have I ever said that before?”

I let my eyes glass over as we marched through the hall. The next phase of my plan was significantly less clear. “So,” I muttered, “my plan is to sneak into InterArk Comm Con and ping Europe.”

“Not gonna work,” he whispered back. “They know what’s going on. They don’t care.”

More like, they’d rather leave it alone so we can all get to Eirenea in one piece. Not that I blamed them. From their perspective, Adam had presided over five years of relative peace. Left alone, he was no threat to any ship but his own. “So we’ll make them care.”

“Charlotte.”

The warning in his tone was clear, and I could guess what he was thinking. If I failed, he had another year of waiting to look forward to. Another year under Adam’s thumb. His age had increased tenfold in the dark circles beneath his eyes. Eren had felt every minute of the years I’d lost in the space of a single dream.

“Have a little faith,” I said lightly, speeding up to brush past an oncoming group. “I don’t intend to get caught,” I muttered. “But I can’t just let a twelve-year-old despot control my brain forever.”

“He’s seventeen, now,” Eren said softly.

“They grow up so fast.”

We marched the rest of the way in silence, greeted by the occasional nod to Eren. I was ignored. “How many people has he drugged like this?”

“Unclear,” he murmured. “But you’re the only one who’s consistently under. He’s used it on others. Any one he sees as a threat, of course, and anyone he wants to punish.”

“You?”

His focus slid back to the hallway. “No.”

I barely had time to wonder why Adam never saw Eren as a threat when the door sucked open. Comm Con was much as I remembered it, floating stars and all. This was the place where I’d married Eren. It was where we’d shared our first kiss, and our last.

I half-lowered my eyelids in an attempt to look like I was still in stasis, but no one paid any attention to me. The enormous black amphitheater had maybe four other people, and no one was near the control desk.

“New plan. We ping my dad.”

I couldn’t miss the look of alarm that hit his face, or the care he took to hide it.

“He’s not dead, if that’s what you’re worried about,” I whispered.

“Don’t let them see you talking. Nothing coherent, anyway.”

I angled my face away from the others. “He’s not dead. Adam wouldn’t have made such a big deal out of it all the time if that were the case.”

Eren avoided my gaze with the precision of a fighter pilot. “Adam had no reason not to kill him, Charlotte. And there was opportunity, motive.”

“I’m not sure about that. It was chaos the day of the attack.” I should know. As far as I was concerned, it happened yesterday. “He had a strike team after him, and his Remnant headquarters were obliterated, obviously. There was a big lag between when he lost Isaiah and when you and I got here, which was when he had control of the speaker system.” I paused, reliving the moment, and sucked in a deep breath. “And the oxygen.”

Eren settled himself at his desk, and I sat, robot-like, in a nearby chair.

“Anyway,” I continued, monotone, “I’m not totally convinced he’d take the shot even if he had it. He didn’t know Amiel was dead at that point.”