“Look at this,” he announces. “Says here I assaulted a handler.” The paper is an incident report and apparently, after his blackout session, James attacked a handler in the hallway. It reminds me of when Realm took down Roger, and I turn to James, thinking for the first time that he and Realm have a lot in common—more than just me.
Dallas tops off James’s coffee, her hand shaking. She asks Cas if he wants a cup, but he passes. She never offers one to me. She clinks the pot back in place just as James calls my name.
“Here it is,” he says. He looks to me immediately and then points to a page clipped to the file. It’s an entrance form, and in the bottom box is a handwritten note in blue ink. The first word I recognize is my brother’s name, and I prepare myself for what comes next.
Patient 486 was first infected after the self-termination of Brady Barstow (drowning), and was later triggered by the self-termination of Miller Andrews (QuikDeath). Under the influence of his medication, Patient 486 admitted to witnessing Brady Barstow’s death at the river, where his attempts to rescue him failed. He has since been struggling with depression, kept hidden with the help of Sloane Barstow, the deceased’s sister.
“You tried to save him,” I whisper. Then, before James can reply, I lean over and kiss him, my hands on his cheeks. My brother wasn’t alone when he died, that I knew, but the idea of James trying to save him fills me with a comfort I can’t explain.
I pull back, smiling at how brave James must have been.
Across the room, I notice a figure standing in the doorway. His shoulders are slumped, his head downcast. I hitch in a breath when he lifts his dark eyes to mine. It can’t be. . . .
“Realm?” My voice cracks and I scramble to my feet. Realm is thinner, his clothes hang on his tall frame. His dark hair is now a brassy shade of orange, as if he’d dyed it blond not too long ago. The shadows under his eyes are deep and dark, and I think he’s been through something. I step toward him. “You’re back?”
A small smile pulls at Realm’s lips, and I’m absolutely overcome with relief. Dallas chuckles, standing at the sink, but nothing else matters as I rush over to Realm and throw myself against him, wrapping my arms around his neck. He’s alive.
“I’ve missed you.” I whisper into his shirt.
“Ah, Michael Realm,” James calls out, still sitting at the kitchen table. “What a surprise. I’d give you a hug too, but I think I’d rather punch you in the face.”
I don’t bother reacting; I just hold on to Realm. I didn’t think I’d ever see him again. He touches gingerly at my shoulders and then glances past me to James. “You’re not really my type, James,” he says. “So I think I’d prefer the punch anyway.”
“Good to know.” James darts a look between me and Realm, smiling but obviously tense by our proximity. It wasn’t that long ago that he saw me kiss Realm, back before we got together. And he knows about the time I went to Realm’s house in the middle of the night. He knows we’ve been more than friends.
I feel a touch on my cheek and turn to Realm as he glides his finger over my skin. “You look good,” he says softly. “I was worried.”
“You were worried? I haven’t heard from you. I thought you were . . .” I stop, not wanting to finish the thought.
“Dead,” James finishes for me.
Realm ignores him, still looking at me with a sort of reverence. “So you’re happy to see me?” he asks, as if he’s scared of the answer.
“Yes. What kind of question is that?”
He smiles, dropping his hand. “Of course. You didn’t take it.” My expression falters when he mentions the pill. Realm doesn’t know I told James about it. He doesn’t know we’ve kept it secret from the others. Dallas slams the cabinet door under the sink, and my heart jumps. When I look up, she’s walking over with a small box in her hand, focused on Realm, and I relax.
“Hey, blondie,” she says with a big grin. “Was wondering when you’d get here. I picked this up for you earlier.” She slaps a box of hair dye against his chest. “I’ve always liked you better as a brunette anyway.”
Realms smiles at her, something affectionate and familiar.
“Thank you, Dal.”
She shrugs as if it was nothing, grabs a kitchen chair, and spins around to sit on it backward. “You really shouldn’t sneak up on us,” she says teasingly to Realm. “Have you gotten my messages?”
“I apologize,” he tells her. “But yes, I got them. That’s how I found you, actually. We shouldn’t stay here. We’ll need another safe house.”
“Working on it,” Cas says, getting up to grab a backpack from the closet. “Didn’t expect you for another week at least.”
They exchange a look before Cas tosses the pack in Realm’s direction. Realm immediately opens it, sorting through its contents. “We’ve found a basement apartment,” Cas continues,
“but I don’t think it’s a good choice. Not enough exits.”
“Keep looking,” Realm says, taking out a cell phone. “This clean?” he asks.
“Just got it today. Why?” Cas smiles. “You want to order a pizza?”
“I need to call Anna and thank her. Let her know I’m okay.” Anna, Realm’s sister, is the one who told us to run, gave us a car and some money. She helped us get away before The Program could catch us. And she did it all just because her brother asked her to.
“Tell her thanks from me, too,” I say, reaching to touch Realm’s arm. He flinches but then looks down at where my hand is on him. He seems a little lost, and I want to ask him where he’s been all these weeks, but I don’t. Not yet.
“I’ll tell her,” he replies.
“Hey, Realm,” Cas says. “I’ll drop your stuff in my room.
I think I’d rather sleep on the couch anyway. Place is getting a bit claustrophobic.” He gives Realm a fist bump before leaving.
Michael Realm smiles at me, somewhat sheepishly, and then he dials a number on the phone and walks into the living room.
I stand, looking after him, and when I hear him choke out a cry, promising he’s okay, there’s a familiar warmth for him. I like how he cares about his sister. He reminds me of Brady.
“I’ll be upstairs,” James mumbles, and leaves. His file is still spread open on the table, but I know he’s distraught. Realm is his insecurity, and I was jerk for not being more sensitive to it.