The Butterfly Effect

The first couple of weeks in his new job seemed to be hell, dragging on forever. Then, before he knew it, months started passing by. A whole year went by that he only barely remembered; several followed, filled only with vague memories of working or some downtime spent with Rosie. Occasionally, he thought about asking for some time off to see what his family was doing—he'd seen other coworkers do it before, so it was at least possible. But then he acknowledged that he hadn't been back there since he went away, and coming back now would only make things awkward. He just hoped that his family knew he was okay. Whenever he'd bring it up to Rosie, she'd assure him that they at least knew he was alive; they might not know anything specific about his work, but they have enough information to limit how much they worried about him.

He didn't know how much he believed it.

He didn't really believe anything that happened anymore.

Alexei stood at the furthest corner of the square, far from the events unfolding in front of him. It wasn't the same town that their base was in, but it was one that Priesty was willing to travel to. "I have to make a statement," Priesty had said. "I need to show them that, no matter where they are, they'll know the price of heresy."

Alexei almost liked working in those kinds of towns better. They were close enough to the base that it didn't take a long time to travel to them, but far enough away that after they did their business they were unlikely to return. That meant that he wouldn't need to walk through the square and always be reminded of the stakes set up there. He could forget about the questionable truth of the convictions, and what followed after—the smell of burning flesh and the occasional cry heretics let out before returning to the underworld.

He tuned out most of Priesty's speech. Alexei had heard it a dozen times before and, besides, it didn't really matter anyway. Priesty just liked hearing his own voice, acting like he'd been the one to do anything other than give the order. He took credit for everything, but perhaps that was a good thing.

It meant Alexei was the only one aware of his own deeds, at least for the most part. At least it led to people treating him with caution due to rumors, instead of the truth of what he'd done.

Once the "main event," as Priesty would call it, was done and people started to leave, Rosie nudged him.

"Still have an appetite?" she prompted in a near-whisper. Her voice was kind, even her expression remained fitting of the events of the evening. "I thought we'd go and get something to eat before heading back. I want to see if the food here is any better than what we have back at the base."

Alexei shrugged. "Does it really matter? It's not like we're coming back here anytime soon to try out more. Maybe it'll be better just to live in ignorance about it."

"Because we're not coming back is the perfect reason to try it. Besides, I want to talk to you. I heard from someone else that somewhere around here, there's a place that makes cinnamon rolls. We could go grab a few, and you'll feel comfortable enough to actually talk to me."

Rosie had learned a while ago that he didn't take vagueness very well. He still feared that a moment would come for them to say goodbye to each other, but otherwise… he really did think he could trust her. She made sure everything was laid out and nothing was left unsaid, even if it was worse to hear some of the facts out loud. It was clear that she wanted him to rely on her, to treat her like a friend.

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But that little nagging piece of doubt never really went away.

He nodded, even if just by instinct. "Okay."

The only thing she did to suggest they were leaving was shooting a dark glare in Priesty's direction. She didn't wait for him to notice it, of course; even if he cared enough to check, he wouldn't notice for quite a while anyway. But neither of them made conversation on the way to the cafe.

Alexei always tried his best to stay silent, to think things through before he acted on anything. He extended it outside of work, too, because that meant he didn't have to think about anything as much. The less thoughts he had, the better—otherwise it became loud and overwhelming. He'd never been able to handle any of that very well.

When they got there, they were led to an empty table. Rosie ordered for both of them; she tried to ask for Alexei's opinion, but he just grunted. Food was nothing more than what he needed to stay alive at this point. It brought him no comfort or peace. He'd told her that before, and yet she still always asked whenever they'd go out.

He never wanted to admit that she ended up ordering him exactly what he would've wanted anyway.

"So, how are you holding up?" she prompted as the waiter walked away after giving them their drinks. She barely looked up from hers, too busy idly stirring it.

"Worse than you'd like me to be, if you're asking that question," he responded. It wasn't the answer she was looking for, but it was the answer that he had.

"That's what I was afraid of."

"And yet you wanted an answer anyway."

"Of course I did. You deserve to be asked how you're feeling. I'm trying to make sure you get some semblance of normalcy while you're here."

"Funny, that almost makes it sound like I'm going to be able to leave eventually."

"You can, you know."

This wasn't a new conversation, at least not entirely. It was something she dropped hints about here and there, but he always made his responses loud and clear. He honestly couldn't tell why she still kept mentioning it, when she knew exactly what he'd say.

"If I go back, everything I did—the blood on my hands—would mean nothing. I don't care what you think is going to happen, I know that everything I tried to protect would just be put in danger again. I've already gone this far. There's no point in trying to pull me back out."

Every one of her emotions were clear in that moment, but a sigh forced them all from expressing themselves. "I'm going to strangle that asshole one day, I swear…" she grumbled before taking a sip of her drink. "Alexei, I want you to tell me something. If a siren had told someone to cross a river, and they started to drown, what would you do?"

"Pull them back out." He didn't quite know where she was getting at, but he had a feeling. Still, he answered, albeit cautiously.

"And what if I told you you were the one in that river? That right now, you're willing to listen to whatever the siren says. Don't you think you deserve to be pulled out, too?"

Oh. Of course it was just another spin on this old conversation. "If this is sirensong," he said slowly but confidently, "then it's a pretty convincing one. But what if it isn't? What if it's real? That's not a risk I want to take. I don't want to know if I've done this all for nothing."

That seemed to make her silent for a couple of moments. Finally, she sighed. "Just… remember you're not doing this alone, alright? Say the word and I'll come running to do whatever I can to help. I don't want you to keep going down a path that's only going to hurt. I'm never going to leave you to face all of this alone."