I thought about that for a second. “I feel… steadier.”
She nodded like she understood exactly what I meant.
Wrecker hovered nearby, not in the doorway, not watching my every move. Just present. Leaning against the counter. Talking with Scout and Brutus about bikes and supply runs and something Cap had said earlier that rubbed them wrong.
Partnership.
Later, when the morning settled into afternoon, I walked the perimeter with Ranger and Smoke. The air was crisp, the sky wide and blue, and for the first time in weeks, I didn’t flinch at every shadow.
I knew the world was still dangerous.
I just also knew I wasn’t alone in it.
That night, I carried a small bag into Wrecker’s room. Not everything. Just enough.
A change of clothes. My notebook. The photo of my sister I kept folded in my wallet.
He watched me set it down without comment.
“You don’t have to,” he said quietly.
I looked at him. “I want to.”
That was the difference too.
Later, we sat on the porch steps as the sun dipped low, the sky streaked with orange and pink.
I watched the horizon bleed from gold into blue, the air cooling inch by inch. The old version of me would’ve been counting exits. Tracking movement. Cataloging sound. Preparing for whatever might come next.
Instead, I noticed how the wood beneath my palms still held the day’s warmth. How Smoke’s breathing evened out beside Ranger’s boots. How the ache in my body felt earned, not inflicted.
That felt important.
Healing hadn’t erased the past. It hadn’t made me fearless or whole or untouched. It had just given me space inside myself again. Room to notice. Room to decide.
I thought about the girl I’d been before the elevator. The one who believed strength meant never hesitating. I thought about the woman I was now. Someone who understood that hesitation wasn’t failure. It was awareness. And awareness could be survived.
Wrecker shifted beside me, close enough that our shoulders brushed. Not claiming. Not guarding. Just there.
That was the part I trusted most.
Not the walls. Not the guns. Not the men standing watch in the dark.
The choice.
The fact that tomorrow morning, when the quiet returned, I would wake up and decide again. To stay. To speak. To take up space.
And that no matter what waited beyond the gates, I wouldn’t disappear to survive it.
Scout joined us for a while, leaning back on his hands, eyes closed like he was memorizing the feel of the air.
Ghost passed through once, silent and focused, eyes already elsewhere. I watched him go, a strange unease curling low in my stomach. It was not fear, exactly. Just awareness.
Some battles weren’t mine to fight.
Some stories hadn’t started yet.
When the stars came out, Wrecker reached for my hand. His thumb brushed over my knuckles, grounding and warm.
