Levi folds his arms, one over the other, and then nods his head slowly. “Yeah I was listening,” he tells me, as stone-faced as I’ve ever seen him. “I was right there when you laid out all the big bad secrets ARC had been keeping from us. I was also there when Edo hit the kill switch on more than a few of my friends when they disagreed with your assessment that ARC is the devil.”
“Are you kidding me?” I throw my hands up. I can’t believe what he’s saying. He doesn’t think that ARC is the enemy? “Are you saying you agree with your brainwashed friends?”
“I never said that, Ryn. I just said that I was there. I was there when they died and I was there when we pulled in their parents and gave them the deluxe ARC treatment so that now they think their kids are off at some year abroad. They can’t even grieve their own children’s deaths.” Levi kicks his toe in the sand. It hits me that maybe Levi might actually have feelings, as I see this particular injustice weighs heavy on him. I could try to justify my actions, but there’s no point. Even though it was the only way to ensure the life of our rebellion, he is right: It was a vile thing I did to those Citadels’ moms and dads. I hate that I have to defend those decisions, so I remain silent while Levi keeps talking. “I was also there when you made sure that everyone else on that base was either loyal or drugged to become loyal. This is a messy, ugly thing that you started. I’m not saying you weren’t right to do it, but your methods? Not good, Ryn.”
“You’re right, I fucked up,” I admit. He’s not saying anything I don’t know and haven’t agonized over already. “But I’ve copped to that and I’ve apologized as much as I’m ever going to. I was only trying to save everyone, so please stop holding my good intentions against me. They don’t teach ‘How to Effectively Start a Coup’ in our training, you know?”
To my surprise, Levi starts to laugh again, though I am sure it’s not because of the joke I just made. He’s laughing at me, not with me. Then he drags his hands through his hair, clearly frustrated. “I’m not holding anything against you. I’m trying to make you see how huge this fucking thing is. It’s bigger than you and your Boy Wonder. It’s way bigger than your bizarre sense of morality. You can’t not help me because it’s inconvenient, not when you’re all in everywhere else.”
Now it’s my turn to snicker. He just doesn’t get it. “Morality? I’m not being moral. I’m being realistic. It isn’t a question of convenience. At all. You want me to deprogram you? Okay, well, that involves shedding layers and layers of emotional armor. It involves intimacy and truth. So let’s start there. Why don’t you tell me exactly how you feel about me? Can you even do that?”
Gotcha, I think to myself. Because although I know that Levi is attracted to me physically (girl, boobs, pretty good hair, an ass I’m proud of—for a white girl—but I’m no supermodel), I doubt very much that he can verbalize his feelings for me beyond that, and more likely than not, there aren’t any of real significance. But instead of trying to avoid the question and redirect the conversation, Levi says nothing. He just stares at me. His gaze is intense. It’s so powerful that it makes me want to look away. I steel myself. I’m not going to give him the satisfaction of watching me squirm.
“Fine,” he says finally. My heart starts to beat a little faster as I realize I don’t actually want him to answer that question. I don’t really want to know the truth, because if it goes beyond the physical, I wouldn’t know what to do with that. It dawns on me that I might have just made things worse between us by asking him to fess up: opening the door to a series of more tense conversations and weird, awkward silences.
But there’s no going back now. He’s already started talking.
“I feel a sense of loyalty toward you, but maybe that’s just because you’re a Citadel. I feel protective of you even though I know you don’t really need my protection. I think you’re strong. I think you’re beautiful, but I also think you’re a pain in the ass, and honestly, I’m not sure I even like you.”
I sigh and throw my hands up. “Well that’s just great. I can totally see how deprogramming someone who doesn’t even like me is going to work.” I’m relieved. He’s confused. He doesn’t know how to separate attraction and real feeling. No surprise there. Still, the conversation has me a little freaked. Hearing Levi say these things makes my heart race a little. Is it guilt? Because I’m with Ezra and I’m pretty sure this level of openness is inappropriate, but since I’ve never had a boyfriend before, it could very well be that this is the absolute best way to handle a situation like this—by acknowledging it, even if there’s no way to know exactly what “it” is. I should probably say something, but Levi holds out a single hand to stop me from continuing.
“I wasn’t finished, so calm down.” I let out a low growl that I’m sure he hears, along with an increasingly ascending pulse, but so what? This shit is intense. There is nothing I hate more than someone telling me to calm down as if I’m some crazy Real Housewife who screeches and wails all the time.
“I don’t know how I feel about you,” Levi admits. “I really have no idea. Mostly I’m just angry and everything else I feel is pretty much a mystery.” Levi stops talking and I sigh. I had been trying to prove a point, that despite our hormones the Blood Lust is not really sexual. I didn’t think Levi understood that, but by the look on his face right now, I know he does. Damn. There is something in his eyes, something lost and bewildered. This is Levi’s version of intimacy. “I am ashamed,” he tells me softly. “I’m embarrassed that, basically, I have the emotional intelligence of an eight-year-old. I know there are other things to feel besides anger and guilt, but fuck, I don’t know how to get to them.”
“Oh, Levi.” I exhale his name, pressing my palms into my eyes as if I can somehow ignite the right answer inside my brain.
“Listen,” he says with urgency, seeing me falter. “I don’t think it matters if I like you. I think what matters is that I trust you. With my life. Right? I need your help, Ryn, please.”
Sometimes I wonder if it’s possible to be a good leader and a good person at the same time, because let’s face it, there are precious few examples. After all I’ve done I think it might be too late for me to ever call myself a good person. But a true leader, the kind that I want to be, doesn’t hold fast to an opinion in the face of overwhelming evidence that it’s wrong. A strong leader is secure enough to change her mind.
I stare off into the distance at the light reflecting off the water. It’s gorgeous here, but it isn’t real. It’s a plucked moment. A pause before we jump again. Into God knows what.
There is no absolute right answer here. This isn’t something I can win. This isn’t a contest or a fight. My new partner may or may not have feelings for me that go beyond the way I look in an absurdly tight uniform (I get it, it’s supposed to fit like a second skin, but it’s more Black Widow than real black ops). I shouldn’t deprogram Levi because it’s dangerous and intimate and I have a boyfriend. But if I want to get that boyfriend back in one piece, there’s really only one logical choice.
As much as it annoys me, Levi is right.
It would be safer if he were deprogrammed. He’s asked for my help. He’s done it as honestly and authentically as he can. That’s huge for him. I can’t turn away from that. Ezra won’t like this, but again, props to Levi. I’m trying to apply normal relationship logic to this situation and it won’t work. By agreeing to help with the deprogramming, I could very well be saving my own life and the lives of others. It might be suicide—there’s that, too—but I think the odds are in my favor on this one. Ezra will get over it once he takes the time to think it through. Once I explain to him that it is the best chance that all of us have to survive. So, now the real problem is time. Deprogramming takes time, which we are desperately short of. Once we start, we can’t stop; doing so may ruin any chance he has at being cured.
But really, this mission can’t possibly succeed unless we do it. So …
“Okay.