“What shall we say instead?”
My mind landed on the most absurd thing. When my grandfather had had surgery once to repair an injury—the only allowable surgery in Genesis—he had been silly from the anesthetic when he’d woken. He’d started singing an old song, one I’d never heard, but he claimed it had been featured in one of my grandmother’s favorite films.
“I’ll be seeing you, Caesarion.”
He stared at me a long time before the barest hint of a smile lit his eyes. “I’ll be seeing you, Kaia, my love.”
I helped him row the boat back to the shore, then drag it safely away from the water. Caesarion and I didn’t speak again, maybe afraid to ruin the memory.
Oz’s footsteps were almost soundless in the sand, but I felt his approach. He grabbed my bicep, yanking me toward him, and Caesarion growled. I gave him a look, pleading for his understanding. “I’m fine, Caesarion.”
“Let go of my arm, asshole.” I hoped silent words could feel cold in Oz’s head.
He dropped his hold, looking a little startled. I realized he and I had never communicated that way and how it always felt a little invasive the first time with someone new. I really didn’t care.
“Kaia, you don’t know what you’ve done.”
I gave Caesarion one last look, then stomped away down the beach. Oz followed me until we were out of sight, since we needed to travel and because he’d shown up here without the appropriate attire—he looked completely out of place in his tight black clothes and cape.
At least dealing with Oz held me together when all I wanted was to fall to pieces. To run back to Caesarion. To die with him.
But the Historians were my life, and the people of Genesis might be in danger. Turning my back on my life, on my world, would be to let down all Caesarion had given me.
My brain moved my numbed limbs forward, forced me to focus on the task of getting home, but everything seemed as though it happened to someone else, as though I watched my own body struggle through the sandy Egyptian coastline.
Now that we were alone, I switched to verbal communication, not wanting any more of an intimate connection with Oz than we’d already formed. “Let’s go.”
Without waiting for an answer, I started to set the dials on the cuff, but he reached out and stopped me. “Kaia.”
“Don’t. You’re not my father, you’re not an Elder. I don’t need a lecture from you about breaking the rules to spend time with Caesarion.”
“I wasn’t going to lecture you. I was going to ask if you’re okay.”
“My head is killing me.” Tears gathered in my eyes. It was more than the physical pain. Walking away from Caesarion tore at my insides, ripped like the loss was tangible, and the pain in my head paled in comparison.
Oz handed me a few painkillers, which I chewed. “Thanks.”
“I’m surprised you’re handling it so well, honestly. Denying the bio-tat impulses isn’t easy.”
“You would know,” I snapped, wishing he would shut up.
“I would.”
“I’m still waiting for the lecture.” I was actually buying time to steady myself before having to face my actual life three thousand years in the future.
“I assume you’ve taken precautions to ensure they will not know the extent of your infractions—the interaction, for instance—unless they follow you. There is nothing I can say that you haven’t thought of yourself, and still you came to this decision.” He paused, looking the direction we left Caesarion. “I can only guess you found the risks acceptable in light of the reward.”
The way he said reward bothered me, as though assuming Caesarion hadn’t been worth it. It wasn’t fair. He got to live this every day with Sarah.
I ignored the inclination to bring up his True. I didn’t want to talk about his eternal happiness. “Why did you say I don’t know what I’ve done?”
His eyes remained up the beach, the direction we came, and his body tensed. “This discussion will have to wait, I’m afraid. We’ve got company.”
I whirled to see Thoth, Ammon, and the third guard rushing our direction, weapons drawn. “Yeah, they don’t like me.”
Oz laughed, a startled sound. “I can’t imagine why not.”
“Let’s just go.”
I finished setting the cuff for the return trip, my anxiety growing as the lights turned to green and the blue field surrounded us. The guards were less than ten steps away when the ancient world dissolved, the future tech delivering us safely home.
*
Sanchi, Amalgam of Genesis–50 NE (New Era)
The air lock felt too sterile, too cold, after the warmth and beauty of the Red Sea sunrise. Oz’s presence grated on me, made me hyper aware of the hole in my heart. With each passing moment, I fought harder to hold it together. I wanted nothing more than to curl up in my bed and cry.
My grandfather’s death, and then the loss of Jonah, taught me that grief could be delayed but not bypassed. Walking away from Caesarion hit me every bit as hard, even though I had known from the beginning that I couldn’t keep him.
I supposed we couldn’t keep anyone, even ourselves, in the end.
“I need to show you something,” Oz said.
“In the air lock?”
“No.” He studied my face for several moments. “I know you’re in shock, Kaia, but this can’t wait long. It’s why I came to get you.”
I was dressed in Historian garb, now, but Oz was naked except for a white towel since he’d gone to Egypt in the clothes on his back. The decontamination chamber wouldn’t let us out until all of the outerwear had been tested and analyzed.
His words barely registered. The longer I sat here the less I cared about anything. A buzzing took up residence in my head, separating me from the present. Oz said nothing more, just watched me carefully from across the room, then dressed when the drawer returned his clothes.
When the air lock clicked open he helped me to my feet. “I’ll walk you to your room.”
“I’m fine.”
“I know you are, but I’ll feel much better if you let me help.”