"Ours is essentially a tragic age, so we refuse to take it tragically. The cataclysm has happened, we are among the ruins, we start to build up new little habitats, to have new little hopes." – DH Lawrence

Fleet-footed and frightened, Katia was flying through blackened woods. The only sounds were her breath and Holden's, her pounding heart and his, their soft footfalls on the fallen leaves. The guns were long behind them. After an hour, their furious pace had slowed to a run. After another hour, it was a light jog. They'd gone perhaps twenty miles when they finally stopped to walk. It was her who'd been pushing the pace, and he who had to stop.

He looked pale in the darkness, and his hands covered his belly. She remembered how little he'd eaten at dinner, and a pang of guilt struck her.

"Let's find some food," she suggested.

"I wasn't supposed to chew," he mumbled distractedly. He reached into his pocket and pulled out two energy bars, handing one to her. "I always keep extra on me."

"Do you get messed up when you don't eat?"

He nodded, staring at his bar. "Very."

Katia watched him as he chewed in silence, not touching her own bar. She would save it for him. "We'll need to find more food then," she noted.

He nodded again. He swallowed the last of his food, pulled out his compass and studied it. Quite suddenly, he grunted and threw it against a tree. It shattered. "Of course they gave us broken compasses."

She stopped walking. "It's not the compasses, Holden."

He stopped as well, turning to wait for a better explanation.

She handed him her compass. "Walk away from me, slowly, and wait until the needle stops. And don't throw it against the tree."

He cocked a brow dubiously, but did as she said without retort. One hundred feet away, he pointed, slightly diagonal to the direction they'd been running. "That's north."

She came near to him, and he watched her and the compass with increasing interest. "That's why Frankie and Colton could never find you," he realized. "You don't have a normal magnetic field."

"Not me," she countered. "Us."

He shook his head. "I've been around them all my life. I've never interfered with their abilities, and they've always found me when I was lost. They could never find you."

"Because you were always with them when you looked for me," she answered impatiently. She headed north, and gestured for him to follow. "It's us together."

"It is?" he asked, catching up.

"Magnets." She pointed her finger in the air and spun it around. "When north and south comes together, it causes their respective electrons to spin with increasing energy. All DNA has a polar orientation, similar to how magnets work. Somehow, our DNA is oriented in a way that it causes some sort of magnetic flux when we're near each other."

He screwed up his face. "So you think this... increased spin energy is what's making us stronger."

"I think so."

He was quiet for some time, and they walked along at a lumbering pace. They'd travelled twenty-two miles, Katia estimated. She calculated how much of that was in the northwester direction, and came to the despondent conclusion that they had travelled well off-path. Holden pulled out another energy bar, and she decided to eat the one he'd given her. She hoped he'd brought several dozen.

"Katia," Holden asked quietly.

"Mm-hmm?" she hummed distractedly, chewing on the tasteless bar.

"How did you figure it out?"

She swallowed before answering. "Have you ever heard of people that get along so well, they seem to understand what the other is feeling without having to ask?"

Holden shook his head. Well, she supposed he wouldn't have.

"Well, I got to thinking about what you said, about them searching for your polar opposite. There's a r-" she bit her tongue, seeking a less loaded synonym. "I doubt the researchers were pursuing some sentimental notion of a perfect match, so I started thinking about actual polar opposites. About magnets, which made me think of... MRI machines."

"MRI machines?"

"They use magnetic resonance to see inside the body," she explained.

"I know what they do," he said. "You think we act like that?"

"Well, not quite." Katia stuffed the wrapper into her pocket. "For one, it doesn't explain how we make each other stronger. But we're also living creatures, not machines, so that might be a part of it. It's also why, I think, we can read each other's emotions and the imagery in each other's heads, as well as sensations."

Holden chewed silently, pondering. Then he laughed suddenly, a short, low noise that was almost as sad as it was humoured. "You turned out better than anyone could have expected."

Katia was taken aback by the sudden remark. "What do you mean?"

He finished his bar and crumpled the wrapper noisily before shoving it into his pocket. "You're far cleverer than me. I would have never figured that out."

She was glad for the dark, as it covered her blush. "Well, it's not a fair assessment. You've never been to school."

"I don't know who's been teaching you, but that's not high-school education," Holden decided. "And I've learned enough about magnetism and electric fields, but I would have never come to the conclusion you did."

"No," she disagreed quietly. She was able to conclude this because she'd read her father's medical journals, which had given her insight into MRI machines and how they worked. Which brought her to another point.

She stuffed her hands in her pockets. "You know, I wondered why my parents never told me I was adopted."

Holden said nothing.

"They're not the type to lie. The only reason they would never admit it, would be because they didn't want me asking questions. I mean, why else would they tell me I couldn't compete in gym class?"

He stopped walking. "What are you trying to say?"

Katia swallowed her trepidation. "I'm trying to say thank you. For telling Harper they knew nothing about me. I know it was dangerous to keep them safe, and I know you didn't need to do it, but you did, and I'm grateful."

Holden picked up a stick, and began peeling the skin off, revealing the soft white pulp inside. His voice was quiet. "So you don't hate me anymore?"

"I'm saying thank you."

"Don't bother." His tone was cold. "I didn't do it to protect you. I did it because if they killed them, then there would be nothing holding you back from escaping. You don't care if we catch you again, or even if we kill you. They're the only reason you're still here. And no matter how annoying you are alive, you're no use to me dead."

Katia stood still and watched as he walked away. After a moment, she caught up with him. "I don't believe you."

They walked into a clearing, and the moon was full and bright. As he looked at her, she saw that behind his eyes was clear reality, like the view beyond a shattered window. "You want me to be good, or at least have some form of respect for human life. I don't. I do what makes sense. Not telling Harper about your parents was a calculated risk. I'm sure you know all about those."

He was referencing her conversation with Ethan, back on the cliffs the first time she'd seen him. He'd been watching her that whole time, perhaps longer.

He looked away. "We need to find water and a place to rest. We have a long way to go."

They walked in silence until they found the stream. She considered the chalky turquoise water dubiously. "Are you sure it's safe to drink?"

He shrugged. "No. But dehydration will get us before anything else."

They knelt and drank from the cold water, revelling in the cool splash across their cheeks and down their throats. Since the river ran roughly in the direction of Mount Isis, they followed its curving banks, keeping close to water.

Holden stood up. "We need to find food."

There was a quiet urgency to his voice. She understood. It had been perhaps six hours now, and they must have covered over thirty miles. Her stomach was growling painfully, and every step seemed like ten. Holden was right; they far surpassed the normal limits of human strength or speed, but if they didn't eat regularly, they deteriorated far more rapidly. It had been far too long since their last meal.

Holden was looking down at the stream. "Ever tickled a fish?"

"No."

"I'll teach you one day. Do you know how to start a fire?"

She nodded.

He reached into his pocket, and pulled out a box of matches. When she looked up at him in surprise, he winked as he tossed them to her. "Much easier than knocking rocks together."

She wandered half a mile into the wilderness to find a suitable spot, and settled down to make a fire. She'd done this a few times while camping with Joe, Ethan, and Ninel. Joe had taught her on their first trip while Ethan and Ninel were setting up the tents. The memory brought on a shudder of pain as she realized that she would never go camping with them again.

"Nice work," Holden cut into her thoughts. He knelt beside her and placed eight silver fish, already gutted and strung on a stick, across the fire. "Shouldn't be long before they're ready."

She didn't feel like speaking to him. Not while she was grieving for something he'd taken from her. Instead, she kept her eyes on the fire and tried to melt her memories in the flames.

He'd made plates of woven leaves, which she secretly found ingenious, and handed her four fish. The meat was not the best she'd tasted, but it satisfied her hunger enough that her brain stopped buzzing.

"We can sleep here for a couple of hours," he suggested. "We'll drink some more before we go, and we'll be better for the rest."

She shrugged, and curled up against a tree.

"Are you upset?" His voice was quiet, probing.

She said nothing.

"Katia, just tell me what I did wrong."

"I used to camp," she answered. And we weren't running for our lives.

His face fixed on the fire. It was stupid, to stay angry with him forever. Anger wasn't helping her.

"I'm sorry," she apologized. She settled down onto her back. The fallen leaves provided cushioning to the already soft soil, and the roots were deep enough that they did not break the ground underneath them. She wrapped her jacket tightly around herself. She tried to sound upbeat. "This isn't bad, either."

Holden lay down next to her, close enough that she could feel his warmth, far enough that he would not make her uncomfortable. She focused on the stars, partly hidden by the branches of the overhead trees.

"You asked about the others," Holden began.

The others. The missing Paragons, the unfilled letters of the Greek alphabet. "What happened to them?"

Holden turned to face her, propping himself up on his elbow. "There was a pair after the Lin and Erno- the Gammas- who didn't work out. Between the Epsilons and the Kappas, there were four more pairs. They were all terminated."

She knew what terminated meant. "When?"

"Most died before I was born. They were prototypes that worked initially, but as they got older, they just didn't show enough promise. None of them made it past five years old."

Katia's tongue tasted of bitterness. She swallowed it down. "You must have shown a lot of promise, to stay alive without me."

She'd meant it as a compliment, to atone for her earlier anger, but his eyes dimmed and he rolled away from her, onto his back. He continued, "After the Kappas, they decided it was no longer economical to continue with the project. We were already foetuses when they made that decision, so they let us live, and called us the Omegas, to signify we were the last."

"So it was a financial decision, in the end?" This didn't surprise her.

Holden blew out a long stream of air. "We're expensive to raise and train, and we're not useful for at least five years. Jadis can outsource a thousand mercenaries for the price of one of us. At some point, quantity overwhelms quality."

"Outsourcing mercenaries?" Katia balked. "Like telemarketers?"

"Basically," Holden replied. "The American mercenaries are recruits, and they are very expensive. But there are lots of Jadis-affiliated mercenaries from the former Soviet satellite states who'll fight for wages a tenth of what the Americans demand, and the ones from Africa are even cheaper. They're not well-trained, but they're battle-hardened and easily replaceable."

"The beauty of free-market economies," Katia concluded with a certain degree of sarcasm. A sudden hopelessness overwhelmed her, and she pulled her jacket tighter.

When she woke up, the first thing she noticed was that she was wracked with hunger. The second was that Holden was gone. She sat up, momentarily anxious. The sun had already risen, and for a sickening moment, she worried that he might have left her alone. Then he came strolling back through the trees, whistling. He was bare-chested, his wet shirt clutched in one hand, two dead fish in the other.

"You disappeared," she accused.

He grinned crookedly. "Did you miss me?"

She built a fire as Holden whittled down sharp sticks to roast the fish with. He'd hung his shirt over a branch to dry. It was a cold morning, but he didn't seem to mind the temperature. She noticed the thick, corded scars on his back, each a slash mark that, in combination with the others, made a spider's web of raised, pale skin over dark. For the first time, she felt something beyond the pity. She felt guilty: guilty that she was the one who'd been taken away, and not he; guilty that she'd been given a life, and not him. She wanted to reach out, to let him know how it felt, but she knew instinctively that he did not want her guilt, or her pity.

He turned and caught her staring. Rather than seem embarrassed, he smirked. "Would you like me to flex?"

"We slept too long," she snapped, standing up to hide her flush. "We were only supposed to rest for a couple of hours."

"You're right." He was still grinning. "We should get going. But eat first."

He handed her a stick of fish, and she dug into one hungrily. She was beginning to appreciate their taste even more. She hummed a little as she ate, something she did without even realizing it.

Holden stretched, his eyes going up to the sky. "We'll be there before sunset, at this rate."

Katia had been happier in the past few hours than she'd been since she'd arrived at the camp. In the forest, she almost felt free. At that thought, her forearm prickled, and she touched the letters. She would never be free again.

"Then we should go on." She hoped her reluctance wasn't too obvious.

It was. He laughed, "Enjoying yourself here in the forest, with all the other wild things?"

"They're far less dangerous than those creatures that claim to be civilized," she answered.

"Yet onwards you march, back into their presence," he commented. "You really love your family."

Katia chewed on her cheek, noting that Holden referred to them as her family. They were her family. "What they did for me – the risks they must have knowingly taken. It's the least I can do, to keep them safe."

"And how far would you go, to keep them safe?" he asked.

She felt as if the air had been punched out of her. "I don't know."

They jogged along in silence, her formerly bright mood darkening with every step. They reached another creek, and she knelt and drank deeply, more from necessity than thirst. When she stood again, she saw Holden observing her.

"You're not happy," he stated.

That much was obvious.

"How could I be unhappy? This has been better than a trip to Disneyland."

"What's Disneyland?"

"Previously the happiest place on earth. A little too mainstream, in my opinion. My vision of bliss has always been getting chased through the forest by a group of heavily armed rednecks."

"It's a good thing they're inept rednecks, because it's not like they're chasing us anymore," Holden returned. "The point is, you're unhappy, but you don't let that paralyze you. That tenacity will keep you – and them – alive. But despite that, you're still – " he trailed off, struggling.

"Still what?"

"You can break a boy's wrist, yet you're still the most gentle person I know." Holden shook his head. "You're a study in paradox, Katia."

She didn't know whether to be flattered or offended. She said nothing at all.

He sighed, and skipped a stone downriver. It flicked ten, fifteen times, before finally sinking.

"They'll make us keep fighting, but if you want, when we get back, I'll fight you. It will hurt more than if you fight the other mercenaries, because I will hit you, and because you'll hit me, and that will hurt you too. But you'll learn far more from me than you will from those hacks." He picked up another stone. "I was thinking that maybe, if you feel pain every time you hit me, then you'll feel less guilty about it, and maybe learn better control." He skipped the stone, further than the first. "Because that's what you're afraid of, isn't it? Losing control?"

She nodded. It was a terrible compromise, as it also meant undue pain for him. But it was a kindness, and maybe he was looking to feel less guilty too.

"Thank you," she said.

Holden wiped the back of his mouth, his eyes still on the creek. He seemed to be seeing beyond the forest. She couldn't tell what was in his eyes, but she respected him enough not to touch him then. His throat moved, and then he was speaking.

"You're going to get me killed one day, Katia Yazykova." His voice wasn't sad or angry. It was only resigned.

They trudged through the woods. Fifteen miles was a long way to go, particularly for two who relied on sustenance to maintain themselves, and who had already travelled thirty miles that day. Within five miles, the feeling of thirst touched the back of her throat, licking away any drop of moisture. The thirst spread to her tongue, causing it to swell and stick inside her mouth. It was funny how quickly she could deteriorate. She'd felt wonderful all day, racing through the forest alongside Holden. Within an hour, she'd gone from invincibility to the worst she'd ever felt. The energy in her limbs dried up with the thirst, replaced by a searing agony, as if each blood vessel cried out for more liquid. Her tongue felt like sandpaper, and her vision blurred.

Five miles to go isn't bad, not when you'd already travelled more than ten times that in a day. She continued on. Holden's suffering was far greater. Normally, he was faster and stronger, but now he lagged behind. He was larger than her, and he needed more water and more food to continue. Biologically, because she was smaller, she didn't need as much. Unfortunately, she had nothing to offer him. So she held out her hand instead, and hoped that their skin touching would be enough to pass some of her strength to him.

He hesitated, so she pushed her hand into his, forcibly locking their fingers together. "Come on," she said as gently as she could. "Almost there."

They reached the base of the mountain by the end of the hour. It would probably take at least two hours to reach the top, and that was an optimistic estimate. There was no path, and it was likely they would have to scramble up in many areas. Holden seemed unsteady on his feet, which was worrisome as well. But he was right: if they rested, they would feel worse than if they continued on straight away.

She pushed forward, half-leading, half-dragging Holden. Though she could feel her strength passing through him, allowing him to keep going, she could also feel his thirst, his weakness, passing to her, and it magnified her own. She could feel the dryness of his tongue as acutely as her own. She could feel the pain in his limbs match the weakness in hers. And she could feel his guilt, his disappointment in being weak.

He started to make strange, croaking noises. It took her a while to recognize what he was doing.

"Are you singing Cumbaya?"

"Campfire song," he said. "You like camping. Trying to make it better."

She decided he was delirious, and that he was an appalling singer. "To be honest, you're not making it any better."

Every step was slower than the last, and with every step, the pain was doubly magnified. The sun dropped down in the sky, but the world began to dim in another way. Thirst evaporated clarity and it became difficult to remember to put one foot in front of the other. She reached a point where they would need hands to climb, and she let go of Holden to pull herself up the rock.

His eyes drooped, and he swayed dangerously. She jumped back off the rock and steadied him just as he fainted.

"Great," she muttered. Holding Holden's slumped body, she looked up at the mountain. They'd made it about two thirds of the way up, but there was probably still another mile to go. She knew, without a shadow of a doubt, that she could not quit. She could not let them hurt someone she loved because she wasn't able to complete a stupid trek. And Holden? Could she leave him? What would happen to him if she did? Katia thought of the scars on his back, and she had her answer.

Still annoyed with him for fainting, though she knew he couldn't help it, she tried to pick him up. It was useless. He wouldn't normally have been too heavy for her, but now she was too tired, too thirsty, too weak to do anything more than drag him. Katia crouched down beside him and considered this predicament. After a moment's thought, she removed her jacket. Securing it like a harness underneath him, she pulled up the jacket's arms and tied them into the belt loop at the back of her trousers. His head bumped the back of her legs, but at least it was off the ground. Shifting his weight, she continued on.

Every step was sheer agony, but she kept on, digging her fingers into dirt and branches, using her arms as much as her legs. She stopped only when Holden became caught by a rock or branch as she pulled herself up, at which point she would turn, untangle him, ensure that she hadn't done any serious damage to him, and continue. She knew if she stopped, even for a short rest, she might not be able to continue.

"I hope this is as much fun as you imagined it would be when you took me, you jerk." She knew it was ridiculous, but she was angry, and at this point, anger was the only thing that drove her forward. So she kept going, kept saying all the things she would never say to his face.

"I happened to like living in Haidala. I happened to like believing that conspiracy theorists were crazy. I prefer camping without worrying about who might shoot me in the back. I prefer getting eight hours of sleep each night, and I prefer my mother's cooking."

Her hands began to shake at some point, and the shaking spread to her arms, her lips. Even her feet shook, and she stumbled over loose and stable rocks alike. Each inhalation became a thin, desperate wheeze; her inadequately supplied lungs stabbed painfully in angry remonstration. Her vision was blurred with tears, and she licked them off her cheeks, desperate as she was for any water.

She thought of Irina, of Ninel, of Valentina, of Ethan. She began to apologize to them, one by one, for letting them down, because she knew she would fail. She could only hope that if she died, they would find it useless to punish the ones she loved.

She was crawling now, hands and feet, too exhausted to cry or to be angry with Holden. One hand, one foot, next hand, next foot. Her head smacked into something, and her hand came up to rub it. She looked up with one hand on her head at what she'd run into. It was too blurry to see, and she lowered her hand to clutch it, to feel the material that covered it loosely. It was a leg.

Looking up through the fog of her vision, she saw that the thing was moving, crouching down so that its face was close to hers. A pair of silver eyes looked into hers. Katia couldn't tell if this being was dangerous, or if it was safe. She wasn't quite sure where she was, but as she looked up, she could see the dark forms encircling them. She knew she could not escape. She thought of Holden. She needed to protect him from these beings, and from this thing that watched her with its hungry eyes. She turned, crawled the two feet back to him, and covered his body with her own.