Chapter Text
I was at your side the day Enoch died.
I clutched your hand in mine while you stood over him, watching the last breath leave his chest. Silence lay thick between us, behind the curtain in the infirmary unit. We both knew - he was gone, lying motionless on the bed, his expression calm and soft, as if he were only sleeping. With tears in my eyes, I looked up at you, hoping for some consolation in the person I'd trusted for so long, hoping you would look back.
But your gaze remained fixed on him, cold and unflinching. It was like you weren't here at all. I tightened my grip on your hand, trying to catch your attention. After a long moment, you turned to me, seeing my despairing face, and spoke.
"Benjamin." You spoke my name with a firm yet gentle tone, piercing straight to my heart. "There's no need to mourn him. It's only a necessary sacrifice," you said distantly; it seemed to me that you were speaking more to yourself than to me.
"But..." I objected, trembling. "Was he not one of us, too? Was he not... a human like us?"
"He was," you acknowledged, "but we must not stall progress for a single failure."
I stared back at you, into your amber eyes that no longer glimmered under the unnerving fluorescent light, at your pale face that seemed to hold nothing at all behind it. Everything felt like a disjointed nightmare as I desperately tried to recall what happened in the days leading up to the tragedy before us. I wanted to beg you for something, yet I couldn't begin to know what, and no words came to my throat.
"Ayin..." was all I could utter, my voice breaking as I called your name.
"Yes, Benjamin?"
"What will happen to Lisa? Will she be all right?" I asked, firing off questions at you as they ran through my mind.
"I am sure she will understand, Benjamin. His last moments were more peaceful and meaningful than they could have ever been in the rest of the Outskirts. She will know that he did not die in vain." Your eyes fell back on Enoch, as if you were expecting him to agree.
Again your words weighed heavily on me, yet still felt vacant. I wondered what you might be thinking behind that ever-mysterious gaze of yours, whether you truly meant what you were saying to me or if it was only to justify this decision to yourself and dull the regret that you certainly felt.
I let go of your hand, which now felt cold like death - like Enoch's death. You didn't seem to notice at all, still contemplating the lifeless body that lay in front of us.
"I- I don't understand," I stammered, the sound of my own voice ringing in my ears. "What are we doing, Ayin? Are we really willing to pay such a price for you and your aspirations? Will the regrets of the past not tarnish the light we're looking for?"
You raised your head, looking off into the distance. The monitor behind you, the one that once blinked with the rhythm of Enoch's heart and lungs now glowed blankly, still and bright, framing your face like a halo.
"The Light will come, pure and bright, when it will. We are doing this for the City," you declared, still never facing me, even as the tears I tried to hold back spilled from my eyes.
"And Carmen? How will she take this?" You loved Carmen more than anyone; perhaps you could be convinced to think twice if it was for her sake.
"Carmen... I will look after her. Whatever happens, I will be there for her."
Whatever happens... The words echoed in my head. Whatever happens, I will be there for her. I knew you loved her, and I trusted that you'd never leave her behind, yet I still worried that it wouldn't be enough. Seeing the earnest compassion that she always maintained, I feared that the loss of such a young and innocent life would trouble her spirit too deeply to help, and if more subjects died in these experiments, she might sink even deeper into despair, likely tearing our team apart along with her.
Please, Ayin, listen to me, I pleaded silently, the words I couldn't say entangling my heart in barbed wire. I wanted to tell you this wasn't right, that we needed to step back and consider whether we truly wanted this, that we would lose so many more than Enoch.
But I knew you wouldn't hear any of it. You were always a stubborn man, in this moment more than ever. Even though I found your determination admirable, I knew one day it'd come back to bite you, and here I was today, witnessing it sink its teeth deep into you as you stood tense and silent before its first victim.
You sighed, turned around, and left the room with slow, resonating steps.
Alone, I dropped to my knees, pressing myself to the side of the bed.
And I wept not only for Enoch, but for you, too.