Quenin Tran

I don't know why I opened up to Ahji in that way. I don't express my deep emotions to anyone. Like I don't feel that deep trust for others. Instead, I prefer to rely on myself above all others. And honestly, I usually put myself above others. I am selfish. I hide my true feelings under a mask of wry humor. Most of the time, that humor is real. I just stuff the deep feelings into the depths of myself, enclosed in an impenetrable box.

I shove the thoughts down. It doesn't matter. But at the same time, I almost needed someone to talk to, someone who would understand me. And I know that Ahji will. No matter what, because of what he has been through. Kaedin will listen and understand, but he doesn't know what it's like. Not like Ahji and I do.

We stand in silence and I loosen the leash I keep on my emotions just slightly. He doesn't say anything, he is just there, offering silent support like I have done for him so many times.

After some time, Ahji squeezes my shoulder softly and says, "I'm sorry. He didn't deserve that." and leaves me with my thoughts, and I am grateful for it.

++++++++++++++++++++++++

The next morning I find Kaedin sitting on the steps behind his family's house, cleaning his blood-splattered weapons. I sit beside him and drag the tip of my knife through the grass beside the steps and path leading up to them, adding dirt to the already blood-covered blade.

"Do you know yet?" I ask.

A pause. "Yes. I heard about your brother, too. I'm sorry."

I shake my head. "It doesn't matter. What's done is done." but I'm lying. To him and to myself. I sound fine, but if I'm being honest with myself, I'm not.

Kaedin stands up abruptly. He looks mad. "Why didn't you save him? My dad. All the others. Your brother. Why did you leave them to die?"

I gape at him. "What?"

"You left them to die while you ran away." his hands look like they're shaking.

I stand too, stiff as a drawn bow. "I didn't leave them to die! I left to get reinforcements to try and save them!" I snap.

"You could have stayed! Fought, even sacrificed yourself for them!"

"I was ordered to go!" I argue.

"You didn't have to listen! At least if you had died you would have been remembered as a hero." he glares, but I don't back down. I'm not scared of him.

"Well, maybe I don't want to be the hero that dies for everyone! Maybe I want to live!"

"So you care more about yourself than others?" a faint flush appears on his cheeks.

"I have reasons I want to live, Kaedin, but that doesn't mean I want others to die! Are you saying it would be better if I died, even if it was for a noble cause?" I glare right back at him, not backing down.

"You know what, Quenin? You're a coward. You're a selfish, self-obsessed coward! Maybe it would have been better if you died! At least this town would be a better place!"

My control breaks and I lash out at him. The hand I use is still gripping the knife. Blue blood sprays from his bicep as I lash out, slicing his arm open. I don't tone down my glare one notch. "Maybe it would be," is all I say before I turn my back on him and stalk down the path.

++++++++++++++++++++++++

The interior of the Engineering Department is cool, and I calm down when I enter it. My second home. The place where I feel accepted, even honored, because of my smarts. My mom comes running down the hall and pulls me into a hug, and I hug her back.

"They told me you were here," she says, smoothing a hand over my disheveled hair. "I heard about Opez."

I look down. "It's my fault."

"Of course it isn't, Tizien." Sparks. My mom and dad's nickname for me. "This is war, and these things happen. Don't let anyone tell you it is, ok?"

Too late. I nod. "I'll see you later, Mom. I have some things to work on." I pass her and ride a silver-plated elevator to my personal lab.

Bullet-proof, one-sided windows line the walls. Screens cover any wall space not occupied by windows, and metal tables littered with notes, blueprints, and machinery are scattered around the room without any particular organization, and in one corner is a cupboard and mini fridge with drinks and snacks. The snack and drink cabinet is mostly empty aside from some water and a lone banana. There hasn't exactly been food to spare.

I collapse on my electronics-covered cushy chair in the center of the spacious lab and rub my eyes. I haven't showered or changed since the battle, and my face is crusty with my blue blood. I grab a few paper towels, run them under the water, and wipe away the dried blood. The cuts have scabbed over, leaving bluish lines on my face and neck. I take off my bloodstained black jacket and chuck it into a corner, leaning over one of my work tables. Scribbled notes cover the surface with wires and chunks of machinery mixed in.

I twist wires and screw random bits together, not really paying attention to what my fingers are doing while I think. The hunk of wires, circuit boards, batteries, and metal grows, and I'm not even sure it would work if I tried to use it. It's just something to keep my hands busy while my thoughts chase each other around my head.

And then it comes to me.