Chapter 9
Nora’s on the plane again and she can’t move.
Iris’s strawberry blonde hair peeks out from the seat ahead, and Theo’s plastered to the seat at her left. Everyone she cares about, everyone she can’t lose, are all on this doomed plane begging for help as if she could stop it from crashing.
Every plea goes unanswered. The string stitching her lips closed keeps her from giving any reassurances or soon-to-be broken promises. It keeps her I love yous at bay along with those apologies for not being better, stronger, braver.
She can’t reach for them when her arms are stuck to the seat, molded into the armrests.
They call out to her over and over again, close enough to touch, and so far away they may as well be a football field apart.
The plane dips and dives, spiraling out of control until it crashes into a smoldering heap, encasing everyone right along with it.
She’s the sole survivor. The only one to crawl from the wreckage. For a moment, she’s happy and free, exactly how she felt when she learned her first husband had died….right before the all-encompassing grief of losing her child overtook that brief sense of relief.
No. Can’t think about that. She’s not happy.
She wasn’t then, and she’s not now. It’s only her mind playing tricks on her, bringing up the worst moment of her life and shoving it into a new horror.
Crawling back into the rubble is the only way to make it stop, begging the fire to take her like it took the others.
It always should have been her, and this time she’ll make it right.
She’ll offer herself as a sacrifice if it’ll bring them back, but something grabs her snug and keeps her away from the flames.
She struggles, fighting the monster that won’t let her die until her name is spoken in Theo’s rough voice into the shell of her ear.
Her eyes snap open, lungs heaving as the bedroom of the research facility comes into view, replacing the burnt wreckage of the plane.
It’s Theo holding her around the waist, telling her sweet things in the softest way as if she can process any of it.
For a moment, she listens, craving the comfort he’s offering after years of denying herself anything of the sort.
The way his breath flutters against her temple and thumb brushes her arm could easily be an angel’s touch, urging her up into the clouds.
Hard to ignore. Almost impossible to refuse.
She gasps out a single, broken sob on the tail end of a few heavy tears before wrenching herself out of his grip and scrambling to the wall. Her back hits the barrier and she stares at him wide-eyed, holding out a hand that forces him to stop when he reaches for her again.
“I can’t.” She’s on the edge of crumbling already, and he hasn’t even responded. “Please don’t. I can’t.”
Can’t talk about it.
Can’t let him touch her.
Can’t feel it.
Can’t do anything.
“Okay.” He leans away again, sitting up against the pillows, arms hanging off bent knees, while he gives her the space she asked for.
“I have them a lot. Nightmares. But this one…”
“Tell me.”
She shakes her head. This one felt worse than most. Maybe because he was there.
It’s proof that she cares for him enough to insert his likeness into a nightmare right along with her dead family, and that’s jarring and confusing.
Whatever type of bonding they’ve done since the crash is scrambling her brain.
“I hoped they’d stopped after that first one, after the plane crash. But now it’s twice as bad.”
She still can’t get enough air into her lungs. Every effort is a struggle when it shouldn’t be. She’s had worse nightmares and hasn’t been this shaken. Learned how to calm herself alone. How to live with them.
“Feeling lightheaded?” he asks, carefully.
Nora nods almost frantically, on the verge of a panic attack as her skin heats up and flushes red.
“Don’t want me touching you?”
She shakes her head just as fast. If he holds her, she’ll break. It’s not his job to put her back together.
“Okay. Okay. We’re gonna breathe together.
In and out. Just like we did yesterday when I was the one losing my shit instead.
” He takes a few big inhales, holding them a moment before whooshing out, encouraging her to mimic him.
It’s such a comically overt effort that she almost wants to laugh at how sincere he is because it’s so damn sweet.
She didn’t exactly expect them to take turns calming each other down from their ongoing breakdowns.
All her exhales evaporating into bone-shaking shudders keep any laughing at bay. All she can see is the sight of him dead and charred to a crisp, still reaching for her with blackened fingers when she hadn’t been able to reach back.
“You can do it. Come on, with me. You’re not alone.” He holds out his hand for her to take if she wants, offering a second chance to do what she failed at accomplishing in her dream.
This time, she can touch him. This time, she’s not glued to a chair while they tumble toward the ground.
She slowly reaches back, slipping her palm into his and letting the sizzling spark that bursts to life every time they touch ground her.
Leans into it, rolling her head back against the wall and trying her best to breathe along with him.
“You were there,” she admits, when her head stops fuzzing and the desire to pass out fades. “And so was my daughter.”
The more she speaks, the more needy and ridiculous she becomes.
“I’m right here.”
“I know it wasn’t real.”
“They feel real, though, don’t they?”
She nods.
“I used to have them about my mother. Not even my father’s money could save her, but I would have nightmares that somehow I could and then…I’d fail. Again and again. They always felt so real, and it took a while to wear off the next morning.”
He has no idea how similar his nightmares were to the one she just had. She can’t explain that without talking too much, and opening up that far isn’t on her agenda today. Not yet.
“I’m sorry about your mom,” she says, sadly.
“And I’m sorry about your daughter.”
“I don’t want to dream about that anymore.” Her face breaks with a quiet sniffle that’s quickly sucked back in. “What do I do? How do I make it stop?”
She shouldn’t be asking him things that are her responsibility to fix, but here she is doing it anyway.
“If I knew, I’d tell you, sweetheart.”
Her heart vibrates the moment that endearment rolls off his lips. It flows easily until he seems to realize what he’s said, and then he pales, looking away with an embarrassed tint to his cheeks.
It would be simple to let go of his hand now and pretend it never happened, but she holds tight and offers him a comforting squeeze when she still needs that herself.
She wants to crawl right into his lap and never leave.
The urge is so strong that it’s a conscious effort not to follow through and give in to that pull that begs her to seek safety in his arms. That’s when the light bulb in her brain explodes and the glass shards stab her in all her fleshy, vulnerable parts.
She is falling for him.
She’s falling for him fast and hard, and she might not be able to stop it before it’s too late.
She’s felt her fair share of schoolgirl infatuation before.
The occasional bout of lust as she got older is no stranger, either.
She thought she loved Jack at first until he showed her who he really was.
Thought she loved Finn as much as she could love anyone who wasn’t her own blood, as much as she was capable of.
She was wrong both times, so how could she trust herself now?
Her heart is too tattered to make logical choices anymore, if it ever succeeded before.
Doesn’t matter, though, because once he gets tired of her, he’ll realize the error of his ways in even entertaining the possibility that they could be something.
She isn’t easy to be with. She gets caught in her head, and that creates too much back and forth, too many mixed signals. It’s confusing, and men have needs.
She’s heard that one, too, more than once.
Maybe the fact that she’s falling for him won’t matter when he gets tired of waiting for her to put out. It sounds crass even in her head. He may have questionable morals if the story of his infidelity is true, but he doesn’t seem the type to want what she isn’t ready to give.
Then, he offers her a small half smile, and she melts so easily, and smiles back so quickly, that it’s more than a little bothersome.
She motions to his arm still stuck in a sling with her free hand. “I didn’t hurt you, did I?”
“No. I’m healing up just fine.”
“Good.”
The desire to kiss him or run straight out into the Alaskan snow and never look back are equally as strong.
She wonders how soft his lips might be, then it’s her turn to blush the barest hint of pink before looking away. How many second chances is life going to give her, she wonders, before she’s brave enough to reach for a little bit of what she wants, even if she can’t allow herself all of it?
“How about some breakfast?” he tries.
“Okay.”
They eat packages of energy bars under the covers after she’s moved back to her spot at his side. By the time the wrappers are empty, things feel lighter, less dire, less like she’ll make a wrong move and break apart.
The fact that she still wants him is something she’ll have to deal with another time. Preferably, when they aren’t stuck in a research bunker at the end of the world.
* * *
Later, they check out the computers and files in search of information. Trying to figure out who uses this place and what for.
She drops a clipboard on the ground by accident in a loud clatter, and Theo flinches like she struck him.
It only lasts a second, and she doesn’t draw attention to it.
Picks up the clipboard and drags her hand softly down his arm in a comforting stroke that he leans into.
Someone doesn’t flinch like that unless they’ve been hit. She knows that fact all too well.
He’s given her bits and pieces about his life before.
His father was actively neglectful, maybe even abusive, if sending your child out into the wild to battle against their sibling for your affection qualifies, and she thinks it might.
Moments like this highlight how little she actually knows about his past. Did his father hit him?
His brother? Someone else? The last thing she’ll do is ask and make him uncomfortable.
“We should make pancakes later from that boxed mix,” she says absently, trying to lighten the mood and distract him.
“Never made any. I’ve eaten plenty, though.”
“Well, I’m happy to be the one to pop your pancake cherry.”
Fuck, she’s doing it again. Flirting with him.
Can’t help it. She feels bad every time it happens because she can’t give him what she’s promising yet, but he seems to care far less about her inability to follow through on all these flirts that she feared he might.
It’s the tabloid story that remains the sticking point for her.
She has been cheated on once already and she fears setting herself up for a round two…
though that might be a challenge considering their situation.
She flips through a few files about climate change, her interest piqued, and a gasp leaves her lips at Gwen’s name at the very top. “Theo, look.”
“She works here?”
“Looks like it. I don’t know why it’s empty right now, she said she was on vacation, but I assumed someone else would be taking her place. You know what this means, right?”
“She’s coming back.”
Nora nods, a grin spreading out fast and furious. “We aren’t waiting indefinitely for whoever, we’re waiting for someone we know is coming.”
The odds are in their favor this time. She can hardly believe how lucky they’ve gotten to stumble across the same spot her friend works in. The very person she came here to see. It makes her look at everything here differently now, knowing it belongs to Gwen and not some faceless worker.
She slept here in this bed. She ate the food in that pantry, used these computers, and then unknowingly left it all here for the two of them.
“How long did she say the vacation was?” he asks.
“Three weeks. Enough for the wedding and then a short honeymoon.”
“Well, we’re missing the wedding, that’s for sure.”
She raises a brow with a purse of her lips. “We’re the only guests. I think they’ll reschedule in favor of…I dunno….making sure we aren’t dead.”
“We’ll see. People get weird about weddings as if it’s more important than the marriage.”
“Gwen wouldn’t just get married while we’re missing. I know her, she isn’t like that.”
He holds his hands up in mock surrender, clearly disbelieving that this elopement won’t still go off without a hitch despite their unfortunate situation.
Nora hasn’t been keeping track of the days as much anymore, but they’re deep into this journey. It won’t be long before Gwen shows up again. Search or not, she can’t put off work to look for them indefinitely, and that eases her stress by a mile.
Until the radio down the hall begins sputtering to life behind the locked door.
Hello? Hello, is anyone out there? Mayday? Help? Someone, anyone, can you hear me? We need help. There are survivors here from the plane crash, please—
The sound cuts off, crackling to a dead stop with nothing but static left over as Nora and Theo push their ears to the door.
“From the crash,” she whispers. “The other half?”
“Has to be. Who else would be calling for help in the middle of nowhere, right?”
“We can’t leave,” she says, firmly. “No matter what, we stay here until someone finds us. Okay?”
“I’m not going out there. We’ve got everything we need. It would be suicide to hike out again.”
Gwen is coming back. They’ll be rescued within the week. If she gets her wish, that might be enough time to work through what’s holding her back when it comes to Theo, before the real world threatens to pull them apart.