“What else is he supposed to do? Really, Noam, I’d love to know. We don’t have resources to support the entire population of Atlantia—”
“The entire—Jesus. You are so fucking privileged, Dara, it makes me fucking sick.”
“Privileged?”Dara barked out a laugh, something raw and strangled. He hunched over, pressing a hand to his chest, and from the manic grimace on his face it was impossible to tell if he was amused or in pain. “You have no idea what you’re talking about.”
“I grew up starving,” Noam hissed. “I grew up hiding my father from the people who would take him away. I watched my mother kill herself and my father hide from the real world. I went toprisonbecause I did what was necessary to protect my family. You grew up...you had Lehrer. You had everything.”
Dara’s eyes were bright obsidian stones in his face, gaze sharp enough to cut. “No. What Ihadwas—” He cut off abruptly, like he’d thought better of what he’d been about to say. Dara exhaled, a brittle smile twisting his mouth. After a moment, he said, “I don’t know what to tell you. I don’t know what Icantell you, or how much I even want to. You’ve put me in an interesting position, Noam Álvaro. In that way, I suppose Lehrer’s already won.”
Noam had no idea what Dara was talking about.
Dara lifted his face up toward the darkened sky, exposing the long line of his throat. Noam wanted to reach for him. He dug his fingers into the sand so he couldn’t.
“What do you mean, he’s won?” Noam asked. “Won what? Dara...”
But Dara’s expression had fallen back into the same placid mask of normalcy Noam had come to expect.
But itwasa mask. How had Noam never noticed before?
Another wave crashed onto the sand, this one creeping up far enough that the foam slipped over the toes of Noam’s boots. He bent his knees to draw his feet out of range.
It was one thing for Dara to hate Lehrer, or even work against him. But if Dara was with Sacha, then Noam would never forgive him.
“You’re right,” he said. “I trust Lehrer. I’m not going to tell you you’re wrong or that I don’t believe you, but I don’t have to agree just because we’re friends.”
“Oh, we’re friends now? I hadn’t realized.”
“Fuck off, Dara,” Noam said, but Dara just smiled and tossed a broken piece of shell toward the ocean.
The salty sea wind was what burned his cheeks, Noam told himself. It had nothing to do with the unsteady patter of his heart.
After a moment, Dara leaned back again. That smile was gone, replaced by the same old unreadable expression.
The void from earlier was back, yawning wide in Noam’s chest. Dara felt it, too, he thought. Dara might not have lost his family, but he had that same hole inside him. They matched.
There was so much more to Dara than the cold, bitter façade he’d presented. He was that, too, but he was also Dara: the effortless genius, the political critic and poker cheat, the boy who analyzed everything he read according to poststructuralist theory and kept fresh flowers in a vase on his bedside table. Dara, who claimed he hated everything but secretly dreamed of counting the stars.
Noam needed a moment to get up the nerve.
“Dara...” Noam started, but he didn’t know how to finish. He reached over instead and touched Dara’s arm.
Dara flinched away so violently that it felt like being struck himself, Dara’s entire body recoiling as if Noam had branded him with a hot coal. His eyes snapped to meet Noam’s, wide and overly bright as he shoved himself up again.
“I’m sorry,” Noam said quickly, holding his hands up. Surrender.
“No...you’re all right. I’m sorry.” Dara looked away, gaze skittering out toward the ocean, the barracks, then finally settling somewhere in the vicinity of Noam’s shoulder. “It’s...been a long day. We should go inside.”
Noam’s gut shriveled. Still, he nodded and followed a half step behind Dara back up to the barracks.
Dara seemed normal the next day, smiling at jokes and doing his work with the swift single-mindedness that he was known for. And maybe Dara was right—they weren’t friends. Better if Noam remembered that from now on, instead of...instead of whatever he’d been thinking lately. But sometimes Noam caught Dara looking at him from across the room with a thoughtful expression, and Noam wondered if he really understood Dara at all.
Scanned analog file stored on encrypted MoD server.
FEDERAL BUREAU OF INVESTIGATION
To:CounterterrorismFrom:Chicago
Re:10-29 Witching Militant Attack
