Chapter 142: Taran

We leave the doctor's office a little more subdued, a little more thoughtful, than we'd been before entering. Of course, I knew Bishop must have had a tragic story. We all do. Tragedy defines the people who call Sanctuary home. Everyone has lost someone. Death Kiss, disease, civil unrest. None of us have made it this far unscathed.
My eyes fall to my sleeping son, held securely on his godmother's arms. Even Blaze has experienced tragedy. His birth was a goddamn Greek tragedy. I smile grimly at the thought and wonder if I'll ever tell him of the circumstances surrounding that day, or if I'll leave the world to make its mark on him in another way. Because sooner or later, one way or another, he will fall victim to this damaged planet the way the rest of us have.
"Wipe that look off your face, brat." I'm startled from my reverie by Skye's clipped words. She takes my face in her hands and tilts her head down to mine. "He'll be fine. You and that giant crazy-eyed Warlord will make sure of it. Nothing will touch this child, trust me."
I smile, tears suddenly leaping to my eyes. I wrap my arms around her waist and hold her close. "I've missed you so much. The years were too long without you."
She squeezes me back, quick and tight, before pushing me brusquely away. "It's time for me to get back to my Wol... to Old Tucson. We've had a quiet few days on the front but no one thinks it'll last."
I look at her worriedly, wishing she wouldn't go, but knowing that it would be useless to argue. Not only is Skye as stubborn as I am, but she's a noble, fierce woman too. She won't leave the people she now considers her people until she's ensured their safety.
"Stay safe, sister," I tell her and smile as she kisses Blaze and hugs Emery good-bye.
"Always," she says, getting into her ride with the fierce man who considers himself her personal bodyguard. He doesn't even let her come into Sanctuary alone. We finally gave them a car to use so they can come in for supplies and to visit. My understanding is that they share it with the other refugees, coordinating its use.
Emery and I climb into the car behind Skye's and Wolfe's, greeting Grayson, my constant shadow since Stryker died. The only time he leaves my side is when he's with Emery and Blaze. I'm becoming more comfortable with the idea of leaving my son with Emery since Diogo and I have reconciled. She's as much a grandmother to him as my own would have been. She adores him and takes him every chance she gets. I'm still sad that she decided not to move into the new building with us, but I understand her choice.
"How was the doctor visit, your sister finally give up some blood?" Grayson asks, pulling onto the road and carefully maneuvering us toward the new Tower. He's started driving like every obstacle on the street might attack us. The change in him since taking responsibility for the protection of both Blaze and myself has been heart-warming and a little funny.
"Yes," I say drily. "She doesn't trust many people, and it was hard for her to let a strange man poke a needle into her."
He rolls his eyes. "Doc Bishop is about as harmless as they come."
"Yeah, but she doesn't know that."
"She could beat the man up with a gentle breeze. No, your sister is just one stubborn lady. She negotiates with the Warlord like she'll have any choice in the matter."
"He respects her," I defend Skye. "He knows that she's good at taking care of people and making big decisions."
He snorts. "Sure, but she's still a nuisance."
"Hey, that's my sister!" I'm not surprised by his attitude. If Skye had been a man defending the lives of the refugees and negotiating on their behalf, no one would blink an eye. But since she's a woman, she has to work harder, think faster, and fight for her rights. "I'm proud of her."
He glances at me keenly and then capitulates. "Yeah, I guess she's intelligent and resilient. A little like you. Not hard on the eyes either. I would give it a shot with her if that bodyguard of hers didn't look like he's chewing on nails waiting for the opportunity to dismember anyone that looks at her."
I laugh at his description, but he's not wrong. Wolfe is a strange one, brutal and fierce, but with his own code of conduct, which no one can quite figure out. I decide to go in with Emery when he drops her off. "I'll just be a few minutes," I say, climbing out of the vehicle, with Blaze held against me. "I want to see how Milla is doing."
His lips thin into a line and he reaches for his door. "Not without me," he says, following us. He doesn't trust Milla. As far as he's concerned, the wife of a traitor is a traitor herself. She could've turned her husband in. She could've switched sides or left him. But she stood with him, only coming to us when she knew there was no hope for her husband. This is part of the reason Grayson accompanies Blaze when he goes to visit Emery. He doesn't allow anyone to be alone with the child except for his parents and Emery. But especially not the wife of a traitor.
My feelings toward Milla are a little more mixed. I don't quite trust her, but I do feel for her. In her place I probably would've done the same. When you're at war, the lines between good and bad become blurred. In her mind, her husband was trying to step into the Warlord's shoes in order to bring order back to the city. Yes, his methods were often cruel, but then, so are Diogo's. I suppose the difference between us is I was on the winning side of the revolution and she was on the losing side.
She's lucky to be alive still. Diogo wouldn't grant amnesty for most people in her position. And while Milla knows on some level that she should be grateful, she still hates my husband. She's not a bad person though, so she tries with me.
We enter the house in single file, the smell of fresh baking bread teasing our nostrils.
"Emery?" Milla's voice calls from the kitchen. "Is that you?"
"Yes, dear," Emery says, pulling off her hat and coat and hanging them in the closet by the door.
Grayson looks around irritably and casts a look toward me. "Five minutes. The Commander is expecting you home this evening."
I raise a brow, sorely tempted to tell him that I'll do what I please. When Grayson is with me, I'm in charge and give the orders. Though technically, Diogo's orders do supersede mine. Still, it sucks to be spoken to like I'm a child.
"Fifteen minutes," I counter.
He shrugs and steps outside to guard the door without argument. Damn it. He just played me. He was probably always going to give me fifteen or so minutes but knew I would try to negotiate. Sneaky bodyguard.
As Grayson leaves, Milla comes around the corner into the living room wiping her hands on a cloth. As soon as she sees me the pleasant look on her face turns to a frown. "You," she says dully. Then her eyes fall to Blaze and she reaches for him. I give him up easily. As much as she resents my husband and is cool toward me, I can't fault her conduct with Blaze. She's perfectly sweet to him whenever she gets the opportunity to see him. I'm not surprised, she was never able to have one of her own, a fact that still bothers her.
"How is my little darling?" she asks, taking him from me and turning toward Emery, ignoring me completely. Emery opens her mouth to answer, but I shake my head stopping her. I may understand Milla's actions, her hesitance to warm up to me again, but I won't allow her to continue widening the rift in our friendship.
"He's fine," I answer. "A little fussy the past few days, but I was told by Bishop that this is to be expected. He's becoming more active, trying to move around more. He lifts his head now and kicks."
The sour look on her face melts away as she smiles brightly at Blaze. "What a smart boy you are!" she cries. "Starting to do things on your own. You'll be walking around on your own two feet in no time."
I smile wanly. "Maybe not for a while yet."
She sits with him and shrugs. "He's the son of the Warlord," she says, somewhat bitterly. "I'm sure he'll grow up to be a strong young man, as tough as his father."
"And as unwavering and kind as his mother," Emery interjects before Milla can say anything more.
We drop the subject and I sit down in an armchair, watching while Milla opens Blaze's blanket and tickles his feet and belly with her fingertips. He giggles and grabs for her hand when she dangles it in front of him. She's as enthralled with my son as everyone else seems to be, which is why I trust her with the most vulnerable member of my family. It helps his case that he doesn't cry much and mostly sleeps and eats on a schedule. I've been told over and over again how lucky I am to have such a good baby. Instead of making me feel happy about my good fortune, their words of praise toward him make me fear having another. Blaze exhausts me, and sometimes he does cry and cry and I can't figure out what he wants. Does it get worse? Maybe I should mention to Diogo that we're only having one of these.
Of course, as soon as I have that thought I realize I definitely want more. One day. In the future. I can't get enough of his soft cuddly body, his warm baby smell and the way my heart leaps in happiness whenever I touch him. He's a perfect blend of me and Diogo, I can't imagine not producing another one just like him. Except maybe a girl next time.
"How are the schools coming along?" I ask Milla.
She's been organizing and formalizing the city's education system. Searching for people with knowledge in areas like history, reading and writing, botany, and survival skills. She's been campaigning people in every sector to help her clean out old abandoned buildings, reinforce them and then bring in supplies to start schools. After the coup attempt, when she began spending more time in the poorer sectors of the city, she became appalled at the lack of educational resources.
Her look becomes somewhat guarded as she lifts her head and glances toward me. "They're coming along really well. I've managed to find good locations for the schools in all of the sectors and I've organized teachers and classes in Sectors One through Six, Eight, Eleven and Thirteen. The others are a little more hesitant, less trusting. But I think I'm wearing them down."
"If anyone can do it, you can," I assure her, and I mean it. Milla is sweet, personable and determined. She's impossible to ignore with her energy and enthusiasm. I have trouble imagining anyone saying no to her for long.
"You know..." she says quietly, trailing off for a moment. She returns her gaze to Blaze, covering his little belly and chest with her hand. He grabs at her, curling his fingers around hers, a heartwarming new milestone in his development. "I didn't want Jorje to do what he did. I begged him to wait for news of Diogo, make sure the Warlord was actually gone before taking over the city. I was so afraid of repercussion if the Commander was actually alive."
"I can understand that," I say softly.
"I also hated the idea of him taking such a dangerous position." Her voice shakes in anguish and the tears start to fall. She leans back and dries them on the back of her hand. "It was bad enough when he was second in command, going on all those dangerous missions. But I saw how people were with the Commander. So many of them hated him for the decisions he had to make on a daily basis. Sometimes... sometimes I hated him too."
"Do you still hate him?" I ask carefully, not wanting to stop her confession, but needing to know if any part of my family might be in danger from her. Diogo might dismiss a woman, but I know better. I know what we're capable of, especially when someone we love is threatened.
She sighs, hiccupping a little. "I suppose not. I understand why he did what he did, it was what I was afraid of from the beginning. From the moment Jorje told me he'd made moves to ensure unrest in the city." She looks up at me guiltily, her eyes sparkling blue jewels. "I'm so sorry," she whispers. "I could've stopped it. I could've saved you from falling out of that building, I could've saved the Warlord. I could've... could've saved Jorje. He listened to me sometimes. I should've spoken louder, more often, told him to confess to the Commander. And then, and then... it was too late."
I shake my head. "It's not your fault, Milla. Don't put so much of this on yourself. It was terrible, all of it, but it's over now. And you're doing a brilliant job of helping this city rebuild itself even better than before."
She gives me a watery smile and nods her head. "Thank you." She wraps Blaze back in his blanket as his eyes begin to close and his tiny fists stop waving. "This little guy here is the perfect example of something amazing growing out of the ashes of our Sanctuary fire."
"Yes," I say simply, agreeing with her.
She sighs heavily and stands with him, handing him over. My time is up. She must have overheard Grayson giving me fifteen minutes. "Please come visit more often, I promise I'll behave myself."
"Thank you," I say softly, holding Blaze against my chest and revelling in his warm baby body. "I'll do that."
She turns away, then stops. Not looking back, she says, "I don't hate your husband for what he did. I understand why he had to do it. But I don't forgive him. Not yet. Maybe never."