Chapter 72: Diogo

Taran is quieter than usual for the rest of the evening, less smiley, less chatty. I don't like it, but I understand. She's struggling with her transition from rebel to Commander's wife. She's beating herself up in ways she shouldn't. She had no choice in her situation. I would've married her regardless of the ease of our relationship. I couldn't be happier with how it's developed, but I do wish it weren't at the expense of her conscience.
"Do you want to talk about it?" I invite, watching her pick at her dinner.
This is how I know she's definitely struggling with something. An array of delicious courses, including baked carrots, mashed potatoes and sausage are in front of her. I even managed to get my hands on fresh baked bread with honey, a rare commodity. I thought the mouth-watering food would perk her up after the somewhat contentious end to our greenhouse visit.
"No," she says shortly.
I wait a moment. I've come to know my wife over the past six weeks. She might be feisty, occasionally hot-headed, but she is, in the end, always thoughtful. Experience has taught her to use her head to work through problems. This is something I admire about her. She may have had the rebellion chosen for her, but she came up with her own reasons for staying. Now she's been removed from the rebellion and is forced to reside on the opposite side. Instead of fighting the transition every step of the way, she's working through her philosophies and moral dilemmas, coming up with solutions to merge the two worlds. I'm proud of this wife I've managed to acquire.
"Yes," she says with a sigh. "I don't know what there is to talk about though."
"Start with how you're feeling and let's go from there."
She nods and lifts her eyes to mine. The anguished look in them is gut wrenching. If I could wipe that expression from her face and never see it again I would die a happy man.
"I'm sad I think. I miss Garrett."
I quickly smother the anger rising up over her feelings toward another man. A dead man. Jealousy won't heal what's bothering Taran.
"He was with me all the time, and we'd just become friends. I I tried to save him, but I don't think Xavier was ever planning to let him live."
"Xavier needed the head start," I agree with her. "He couldn't allow your bodyguard to radio that you'd been taken."
She swallows hard and continues to move the food around on her plate. "I hate that he ended that way. He was like me, no family."
"There's nothing you could've done, baby." I try to reassure her.
She lifts stormy grey eyes to mine. "I have no family, Diogo. And it's beginning to feel like I don't have any friends left either. Xavier is dead, and I don't know what's happened to Emery."
"You have me."
She stares at me, not saying anything to that. A combination of guilt and annoyance rises up within me. I'm not enough. She might love me, but she wants more. More people, more purpose. I can't force her happiness, as much as I want to, so I give her something else. "Your friend, Emery, was arrested in the rebel sweep after the wall explosion."
She gasps and sits up straighter. "Why didn't you tell me?" she demands, accusingly.
"You didn't need to know," I tell her bluntly.
"Because I'm a rebel security risk."
"I'm going to say this once more and then never again, Taran. You are no longer a rebel, you are my wife." The wounded look she gives me is a jab to the heart. I relent. "You weren't told about her arrest because there was nothing you could do for her. You would have worried and, despite your anger now, I don't regret saving you that concern. Emery was released two days after her arrest. I determined that she had nothing to do with the explosion and didn't constitute a risk to the city."
She bites her lip and nods but stops short of thanking me for my action. We both know I did it for her. Most of the other rebels picked up in our sweep are still languishing in cells, two of them scheduled for execution. Only a few were released. Emery is high up enough in the rebellion that she would still be imprisoned if I wasn't married to Taran. Emery's genuine and selfless care of the young Taran has created a soft spot for the other woman in my almost non-existent affections.
It's time to change the subject. Unfortunately, I need to address another uncomfortable topic. "I need to ask you some questions, about your family."
A look of surprise crosses her features and then she gives me a strange look. "You know what happened to my grandparents. I don't really think that's a topic we should discuss. Especially after you've just told me you had a woman I considered a second mother arrested."
My feisty girl, always in there with a jab to keep me on my toes.
"I'm not asking about your grandparents. I want you to tell me about your sister."
"Skye?" she asks, her confusion growing.
"Yes, tell me about Skye."
She picks up her fork and shoves a mouthful of potato into her mouth, chews and then swallows. "I don't know what you're looking for. She was a lot like me, except taller, prettier, more determined. She was part of the reason we survived as long as we did when we were travelling south. Her stubborn tenacity went a long way toward saving us. She wouldn't let anything get us, not starvation, not Primitives or illness. And never despair. She was the rock in our family. I think my grandparents might've given up long before we reached Sanctuary if it weren't for her."
"You looked up to her."
"She was a complete asshole." She laughs, remembering her sister fondly. "But yes, I loved her dearly, and looked up to her. Losing her was like losing a limb. I didn't know how I would survive. How any of us would survive. Honestly, Diogo, it was a miracle we made it here without her."
"Tell me what happened to her," I urge.
"She died," Taran says shortly.
I push my chair back from the table and lean forward, taking her hand in mine. "I know it's hard to think and talk about, but I'd really like to know about your family."
"Really?" she asks, her eyes shining bright with tears.
"Yes." I give her fingers a squeeze and bring them up to my mouth, kissing them. "Please tell me. I'd like to hear, and I think it'll be good for you to talk about it."
I feel like a complete dick, using her love and feelings of nostalgia toward her dead family to get her talking about her sister. But I need to know what happened to the girl, need to find out if Talon told me the truth about Skye. I'm not ready to tell Taran about the possibility that her sister still lives though, she's been through enough without raising her hopes and then crushing them again.
She gives me a watery smile. "Okay, I'll tell you." Then the smile disappears, and the haunted look comes back. "We'd barely arrived in the Las Vegas Sanctuary when the illness hit, the same type of flu that killed my parents and brother back in Old Canada."
The reminder of the amount of loss Taran has seen in her short years is difficult to hear. If I could go back and save her every second of pain, I would do it in a heartbeat. Even if it changed our future. Even if we never met. It would be worth it, knowing she was happy.
"The sickness swept through the city faster than the Death Kiss spreads. It was terrifying to watch people fall sick one at a time and never get back up again. My grandparents were already in the process of packing us up to leave the Sanctuary, fearful that we'd get sick too, when the city guard weakened to the point that Primitives were able to penetrate the defences. There weren't enough people left to defend the city. The Primitive's swept through, killing and turning everything in their path."
She pauses here in her story, reaching for her glass with a shaking hand and taking a big gulp of water. A tear escapes, dripping down her cheek, where she impatiently brushes it aside. Taran often lets her emotions have free reign. She laughs when she sees something funny, she cries when she's sad. I love this about her. Her ability to take life as it comes and simply react. In a world where we are suppressed by the constant grim truth of our impending demise, Taran's emotions are entirely human and entirely welcome.
"We were lucky. The place we were staying in was located near the edge of the city, near a side gate, and we were already packed and set to go. We grabbed as much as we could and we ran as fast as we could, joining another group of survivors. We were just about to go through the gate and escape into the desert when a horde caught up to us. They began picking us off one at a time. The slow and the sick went down fast."
She stops again, gulping in deep breaths and blinking away more tears.
"Did Skye fall behind?" I ask softly.
She shakes her head and takes another moment before she's able to speak. "No, she was faster than everyone else. I was the one falling behind. I was only thirteen and small to begin with. I couldn't keep up with the adults. I was about to be attacked."
"She saw and intervened," I guessed, finishing for her.
Taran nods and gives me a watery smile. "She was such an idiot. She turned around and launched herself at the zombie, attacking it with her bare hands and screaming like a banshee. I swear, if a zombie can look surprised, that one didn't know what the fuck was coming at him."
"Brave girl." Yet another person I'm grateful to for giving my wife the opportunity to live.
"She sacrificed herself to save me. I would've gone back for her, but my grandfather grabbed my arm and forced me through the city gates. The last I saw of her, the Primitive was dragging her down onto the road, his teeth buried in her neck."
This is what I was waiting for, what I'd begun to suspect. Skye was bitten, probably left for dead right there in the road. But the same blood that runs through Taran's veins also runs through Skye's. If I'm right, the sister didn't turn. She survived the Primitive attack and somehow managed to survive the fall of Las Vegas. A few years later, as she was making her way south, toward her sister, she was taken. Intercepted by Talon and sold.
I watch Taran for a moment as she struggles to contain her emotions. I grip the back of her neck and drag her forward, off her chair and onto my lap where I tip her face up to mine. "Thank you for telling me, baby."