The shuttle lands a distance from his residence. I can’t let it land too close or that will put him in danger.

The route is easy to follow. It shouldn’t be, all the buildings look the same, but the turns are etched into my skull. I’m heading back to see him. I shouldn’t be this excited. But I’ve missed him. The first person I truly remember. The person who has always been a voice of reason.

“Nathan” I whisper his name. I don’t want anyone else to hear it, but it feels so nice to say his name out loud.

The buildings get smaller and smaller as I slowly make my way out from the new center of the city and head to the older areas. The buildings look worn, relics left from ages ago. Some are kept up; some are rotting away abandoned scraps.

There are more people out walking on the streets. I get a couple glances, but mostly people purposefully trying to look away. They don’t want to be rude and stare at a religious person, so instead they become so unnatural looking in trying to not be rude.

I turn into a small cramped alley way and come out on a street where most of the houses are in disrepair. Porches clawing at houses, holding on with the last of their strength, rooves struggling to hold their ancient planks. Sheets of plastic layered over walls that gave in to time.

One more alley, and I found myself on his street. A block down, and I was at his place. It looked quiet, empty almost. Was I at the right place?

The porch creaks under my feet as I walk up to its door. The place where the old cracking doorbell used to be is simply frayed wires sticking out of a hole. I knock on the old wooden door.

I wait, but no one comes. Does he not live here anymore? He wouldn’t have moved and not told me, right? I knock again, “Anyone here?”

Maybe he’s at his job. Last time I sat on the porch waiting for a while and he eventually showed up. The door next to his opens up to show the red-haired woman I met the first time I came to his place.

“Ahh, the religious girl is back. I guess you are looking for Roger?” Her voice sounds tired and her hair’s a mess around her face.

For a moment I am confused, and then I remember he goes by the name of Roger now, “Yes.”

“He normally gets back close to sunset.” Her eyes scan me, and I feel uncomfortable under her gaze. “I thought you had paler skin.”

I don’t know what to say, her gaze is making me uncomfortable, and I find myself wringing my hands. “I - I don’t think I’ve changed that much. Maybe you are confusing me with someone else.”

“You are the religious girl that’s visited him before, right? I saw you sleeping on the porch waiting for him last time you were here, though that was a long time ago.”

“Yes, it’s been awhile since I’ve been able to come visit.”

“I’m not sure how he will take seeing you. Last time I asked him about you he tried to avoid the subject. If you care about him, you should just leave. Let him completely forget you and move on with his life.”

“Why do you say that!? I’m not about to just leave after coming to see him. Sure, I’ve missed a couple visits, but I’m here to see him now.”

“Listen girl, I don’t know you very well, but I know him since he lives above me. He’s started to finally get past you. I know what getting over someone looks like. Don’t ruin his life by sitting here and insisting on meeting him.”

This woman is infuriating. The way her judgement radiates. The way she says she knows him. The way she seems to know his schedule. Who is she to him? “You don’t know either of us. You don’t know our circumstances. You say I should just leave, but you don’t even consider why I am here or why I visit him in the first place. You should mind your own business!”

She laughs, “He’s told me many things. I know he was an orphan, that you were one too. You both went your separate ways, but promised to meet up. You failed to keep your promise, and it destroyed him.” She stands up straighter, and she goes from looking like a tired and worn out woman to being a stronger fighter who can take anyone down. “Now, leave. Before I call the cops on you.”

For a moment I feel terrified, her gaze makes me want to turn and run, but then I remind myself, I am Hope. I have no reason to be afraid. If she actually goes to call the cops, I will remove her memory of me being here, hide off to the side, and greet Nathan when he comes at sunset. For now, I will fight back and try to make this woman see reason

“You would call the cops on a religious woman who has done you no wrong? They won’t even come for a call as silly as that in this neighborhood. They only come to clean up the dead bodies after the fight is over.”

She seems to deflate, as if the energy she’d summoned has drained out of her. “You’re right. Fine then. I warned you. You will regret coming here today. But I’m not letting you in. You can wait on the porch for him.” She fades away into her place, the door latching hard behind her shaking the worn-out porch.

I sit down in front of his door, and wait. The wait shouldn’t be too long since it is already the late afternoon, but any wait feels almost unbearable. I just want to see him gain.

What if the red-haired woman is right? What if he doesn’t want to see me? What will I do? Where will I go? Back to Lizzie? Back to jail, lock myself up before Patrick gets to me? What good will that do me. I’m not just another street rat anymore. I’m the cause of the memory sickness. I am the mayor of this city. I am - I am alone.

Except for you. Did you start appearing before me to help destroy my loneliness? Did I create you to combat loneliness, or are you some other entity? Are you the girl who used to own this body? That theory works if I am the Xatron, but it doesn’t work if the Xatron combined with the girl who used to inherit this body to form me, because that would mean she’s still technically alive as me. But it does work quite well if I am just the Xatron who took over this girl’s body. Do you want this body back?

But you say nothing. It seems like you are shaking your head, as if vehemently denying what I am saying. What are you!? You must just be my own creation. That’s the only logical explanation if you deny everything, because why would my own brain want to accept the truth that I am crazy?

The sun touches the horizon, and he appears, surrounded by the setting sun like a human sacrifice stepping out of the flames.

“Nathan!” I stand up to greet him, and he stops. Should I run up to him and hug him? But he looks to be in shock. Maybe I shouldn’t. “Nathan?”

He steps forward, walks up the stairs of the porch directly toward me, not saying anything, and then he stops, and just stares at me. “You-” He grimaces, as if in pain. He looks like he wants to say something. His mouth opens a couple times and then closes. “Let me open the door.”

“Oh, sorry.” I step to the side, and he puts his key in the door, unlocking it. Now that the sun isn’t blind me, I can see the hunch to his shoulders, the lines developing around his eyes, the layer of dirt over his face.

He opens the door, and steps to hold it open. “Let’s talk inside.”

I nod and step in. At least he’s giving me a chance and not locking me outside. Maybe I shouldn’t have come to him. Maybe that woman was right.

He comes in, and closes the door, locking it behind him. “Your neighbor greeted me earlier. She seemed convinced I shouldn’t be here.”

He looks at me, and in the dimly lit hallway, the shadows make his face look more haggard. “Oh, don’t mind Hellen. She’s - protective? Yeah, she gets really protective about those of us that live here. Let’s head to my room, we probably don’t want to run into the other people that live here right now.” He starts heading up the stairs, and I follow behind him and up to his room.

He motions to the bed. “Sorry I still don’t really have good seating in my room. You can sit on the bed for now. If you don’t mind, I’m going to go clean up and I will be back.”

“Ok.”

He grabs clothes from his dresser, and heads out of the room, closing the door behind him. I sit down on the bed, and I remember when I thought it was soft. Now it just seems hard. Like an old tired model of a mattress. I’ve become so used to the luxury I live in; I’ve forgotten this world.

He comes back in. His blonde hair is wet, but spiked from being towel dried. He’s in jeans and a t-shirt, and the dirt is gone from his face, but it just makes the gauntness more apparent.

He stands awkwardly near the door, as if unsure of what to do. “Why are you just standing there? You can sit next to me.”

“Uh, I-. Ok. Just, you’re the governor now, right?” Is my status making him uncomfortable?

“I’m Hope. The same girl you shared a jail cell with.”

He laughs, and shuffles his feet. “Yeah, just, I haven’t seen you in so long. You went and became a big shot. And you’re not pale anymore.”

Is that what’s making him look like he doesn’t know me anymore? I pull off my gloves and hold up my pale white hands lined with the blue veins. “Still the same hope. Melanie just did a really good job with the makeup.”

He steps forward, reaches for my headscarf, and I let him pull it off. “Your hair is still white.” His voice sounds so relieved that I can’t help but laugh.

“Yes. My hair is still white. Melanie helped me with my disguise this time. That’s why it’s such a good disguise.”

He touches my hair, and then pulls his hand back. “Why are you here? Isn’t it dangerous to be out with those idiot protesters on the streets?”

“Idiot protesters?”

“Well, there’s not many of them, and their reasoning is flawed, self-centered, and just plain up stupid.”

I smile at his description. If only I had seen them in that manner.

“Long story short, I think I’m a wanted woman.”

“What? You can’t just say that out of the blue.” He looks so skeptical. “Why would you think that? The people love you.”

“The people might, but the other government officials don’t. Patrick told me that the federal government was sending people to investigate me for abuse of power. I gave him back his memories, and now he wants to destroy me for having taken his memories.”

“Woah! You’re going to have to slow down and explain things from the start. And why the hell did this Patrick person not have his memories.”

I take a deep breath, and then explain everything since I last saw him. How I chose to take Patrick and his family’s memories. How I destroyed the government so I could take over. How I was the memory sickness. And how I ended up wrecking everything I tried to build.

He sits silently after I finish. Not saying a word. The silence pounds away to the speeding tempo of my heart. Does he blame me also? Does he hate me?

I can’t stand the silent judgement, “I know, I shouldn’t have taken their memories, but what else could I do, something had to change.”

His arms wrap around me, and pull me close, “I don’t blame you.”

It feels like the world is melting. Everything that was wrong, all the worries, all the fear. It’s the warmth of him holding me. It’s the simple words without hatred.

“Nathan, I - I had to do something.” My voice stutters and I feel like a rock is sitting in my throat. I let my head lean onto his shoulder.

“I know. You couldn’t sit back and just keep doing nothing. You’ve never been the type to be able to just do nothing.” His voice rumbles against me. He’s so warm.

“What do I do?”

“I don’t know. For now, you can stay here as long as you need.”

I pull back a little, looking into his pretty blue eyes that look like an impressionist painting of a lake, “But what if he finds me here? What if he comes for you? I-I don’t want to get you in trouble.”

He pulls me close, and strokes my hair, “I don’t care Hope. I’ve been working like a dog just to keep this apartment. I’ve been working to build your dreams, but that’s been the only meaning. Day in, day out, hoping to see you on TV. Being unable to ever take you up on your invites for fear - I don’t care if I go back to jail if I can be with you. I was wrong to leave you with Lizzie. I felt wrong every time I let you walk away without me. But I can’t stop you. I won’t ever stop you. You are more than I can ever be. If you need a place to hide, I will give you a place to hide. If you need someone just to talk to, I will be here for you. If you need me to one day come with you somewhere far away, to run to some unknown, I will come with you. As long as you want me, I will follow you.” He pauses, and then says, “I’m tired, Hope.”

I- I don’t know what to say. How to respond. He left me, telling me I had to choose a path. He never came to any of my speeches. But here he is, promising to follow me. Offering to house me even if he goes to jail. I wrap my arms around him, and just let my head lie on his shoulder. And why does he say he’s tired? What does he mean? Is he saying he’s physically tired from his job? Is he wanting to go to sleep? “I’m not sure I understand.” I mumble into his shoulder.

“I - I - I love you Hope! I hope you won’t feel like this is me forcing my feelings on you. I - I’m sorry, I’ve tried for so long to not say anything. I tried to walk away. I tried to just be a friend. If you want, that’s all I’ll ever be. I’ll be whatever you want me to be, but I don’t want to exist in a world that doesn’t have you.”

What? He - he says he loves me? I - I don’t know what to say. Am I the heartless xatron, or is this warmth, this burning fear, the fear of pulling away, of looking up at him and seeing his face, is this fear love?

“It’s your turn to say something, Hope.” His voice is shaking, waiting for my response.

I haven’t seen him in months, and yet I immediately come to him when I don’t know what to do. I look for him all the time. “I don’t know what love is.” I feel him stiffen a bit. “But I know that I look for you. Every time I had a speech, I would hope you would come. Every time I was unsure, your words guided me. I’m not sure what I feel, but I like being here with you. Your words mean more than anyone else’s.”

His tenseness slowly fades away as I speak, and at the end, he rests his head on top of mine. “I think that counts as love Hope. Wanting what’s best for a person, wanting to be close to them, wanting to see them, hold them, hear their words and thoughts. I think that’s love.”

“Then maybe, I love you Nathan.”

We sit there wrapped in each other’s arms, but now the silence is warmth and calm. It is the beating of my heat, racing from this new clarity, the realization that maybe I love him. It is his heart that I can feel matching the tempo of my own. It is the stillness of my mind. Unable to think other thoughts.

Time stretches on infinity held out, but eventually, his voice breaks it, “I’m a bit hungry. Do you want something to eat?” I guess at some point, time must always move forward.

“Yeah, I’m a bit hungry.” I haven’t eaten in a while, but food hasn’t really been on my mind.

“Stay here, I don’t want my apartment mates to accidentally see you.” He pulls away, and I can see now that his cheeks are quite red, are mine like that, they are tingling, flaming with uncertainty. My arms fall away, as he pulls back, but he reaches out, and touches my cheek, and then laughs in a short, sort of self-conscious way.

Why did he just do that, I tilt my head, silently questioning, trying to understand his actions.

“With all that make-up on, I was wondering if you were - eh, yeah. Just felt - er - embarrassed.”

I touch my cheeks, and nod. They are quite warm. Underneath the makeup, they must be as red as his. I see some of that makeup on his shirt, and I want to hide, to wash the pounds of makeup on my face off. To clean his shirt before he notices. If I stay hidden, can I wash away this façade? Should I leave it on for a couple days in case? This has to be terrible for my face to wear this much makeup. Will more rub away over the days?

He walks out, and I hope he doesn’t run into any of his apartment mates. I can just imagine him having to explain the make-up on his shoulder.

He comes back with two bowls. He is somehow opening and closing the door with one of the hands he is carrying a bowl in.

“It’s just some leftover soup. I don’t really have much other than soup and bread. I can grab some toast if you want some to go with the soup. Canned soup is cheap and easy.”

“This is fine.” I say as he hands me a bowl of soup with a spoon in it.

The soup was bland, a watery concoction of some pieces of meat, something that might have been lettuce, and maybe some rice in it. A little salt and pepper, but nothing extravagant. It was poor fair, but it at least sat warmly in my stomach. It was also nice to have Nathan sitting next to me.

We ate in silence, broken only by the slurping of our soup. Nathan finishes before me, and looks around his room, “I don’t really have much room to sleep here, just the one bed.” He pauses, looks at me, and sighs. “I can take the floor; you’re probably used to fancy beds at this point.”

I shake my head and finish gulp down the soup in my mouth. “No, you look tired, and you work long hours. I can sleep on the floor or share the bed. I won’t let you sleep on the floor after invading your room.”

“And you are my guest. What sort of…” He trails off looking at me with this semi-perplexed look. Then he stands and continues with large waving arm motions, “What sort of man would I be to let the girl I just confessed to sleep on the floor?”

I can’t help laughing. It’s a little silly how grandiose he is being in this tiny room. “You are a guy who works hard every day to put soup in bowls. You should sleep in your bed.”

He laughs for a second with me, and then stops, his eyebrows furrow as he looks at me with a perplexed and serious look. “Did you mean it?”

“Mean what?”

“That you would share the bed with me.” The way he says it makes my heart race and makes me realize that he would be right next to me, sleeping next to me tonight. I can’t trust my voice, and simply nod.

He reaches forward and takes my empty bowl. I hadn’t even realized I had finished my soup. He stands there, looking down on me as if trying to read my reaction. I can’t handle how bright his blue eyes look, and I look away, down at the floor. “If you don’t want to, you can take back what you said. I won’t hold you to it.”

I shake my head. I’m not sure why, but I don’t want to sleep alone tonight. I think I like the idea of sleeping next to him.

He kneels down in front of me, sets the bowls on the bed next to me. and puts his hands on either side of my head, looking into my eyes. “If you want to share this small bed with me, I will not reject that idea. It would solve the issue of only one bed.”

I can’t just nod because he is sitting there with his hands on the sides of my face, so I have to speak, “Yes. I - I want to - to be next to you tonight.”

His hands drop down, and he pulls me into a hug. “I love you,” he whispers, and then pulls away. He grabs the bowls, “I should take these back to the kitchen.” I nod, and he heads off to the kitchen.

I stand and pull off the brown garment, leaving only the pretty pale blue dress on. It seems so out of place for this new world I am now hiding in. It’s such an expensive fabric, but it’s soft against my skin. I wish I could tell Melanie thank you again. I pull out the bands tying my hair, and let the white waves fall down. I must look so weird with the hair and eyes of an albino person, but the skin on my face the color of a seemingly “normal” person. I can’t redo that make-up, so for now, I’ll just leave it on.

Nathan walks back in, and sees me in the blue dress. “Wow, that looks beautiful on you. Were you wearing that under the brown dress?”

“Yes. Melanie gave it to me before I left.”

He walks forward and touches it, his hands sliding over the fabric. “It’s so soft and silky. A rich person’s fabric.”

“Yes, I can’t wear it outside of this room, but then again, I probably shouldn’t leave this room without completely covering myself up.”

“Probably not.” He reaches up, and his hand strokes my hair. “It’s so strange how color leached out of your hair.”

“Yes, but everything about me is strange. I can take people’s memories, kill people with a thought, and move things with my mind.” I remember the guard’s I murdered to leave the prison, and I wish I could undo those actions. Back then I didn’t understand anything except pain and misery. But those guards were simply doing a job. Everyone here is desperate for a job. “Do you blame me for what I’ve done?”

I look up into his eyes, and I see no hate, disgust, or horror. Instead, he is looking at me with this soft, sweet look, a look full of absolute… love? “I don’t. I’ve been there with you. You have always done the best thing you can. You fight with a raging fire for what you believe. You’ve fought against unfairness and against poverty. You’ve always fought for others. Even when we broke out of the prison. You fought to free me. You didn’t care about what happened to you. Among the orphans, you fought to give them a chance. As mayor, you fought for the people.”

I’m not that selfless. I am here, instead of doing my job as mayor. I ran away for fear of what would happen to me. Had I lost the core of what drove me? Should I go back, and continue to fight at the top so that he could live a good life? Should I face whatever punishment is coming at me?

He leans toward me, and his lips gently touch my own. I wasn’t expecting this, but it isn’t unwelcome, this soft and gentle touch, like the feel of touching warm hot chocolate to my lips, but not drinking, and then it was gone.

I realize I had closed my eyes, and I open them to see him still quite close to me. “I- I probably shouldn’t have done that.” He whispers. “I’ve been wanting to kiss you for a while, but I should have asked - “

I lean forward and kiss him to silence his words. This is so strange. So weird, but not unwelcome. I linger, for just a moment before moving back to range where I can fully see his face, and he is smiling.

“I guess that means you aren’t angry at me for kissing you?” He asks.

“No you silly, I’m not angry.”

He steps back, and looks serious, “As much as I want to stand here talking and kissing you, I need to go to sleep. I have to get up early for my job.”

“Oh, yeah. I’ll sleep closest to the wall. Thank you for letting me stay with you.”

“I’m happy to have you here. Now, if you are taking the wall side, you should lay down first.”

I sit on the bed, pull off my shoes, and then slide over to the wall. My heart is racing. This is such a strange, but not unliked situation.

He lays down next to me, wraps his arms around, and pulls me close. He whispers to me, “I love you Hope. please, don’t leave me behind again. Wherever you decide to go, bring me with you. I want to be there for you.”

“I - I love- love you too.” I whisper, my tongue thick with these foreign words. I can’t promise anything more though. I don’t want to put him in danger. If I go back to the office tomorrow, I will have to protect him from what is coming. If I continue to run away, would I be able to protect him if he came with me? I say nothing else, but enjoy the warmth of lying next to him, held by him, my heart racing, his smell enveloping me and fighting my ability to think, and at the same time my mind is racing.

He pulls away, “We should go to sleep. Goodnight Hope.”

“O-ok.” and I move as close to the wall as I can. I try to let sleep take over my mind, but I can still feel the warmth of him next to me. My heart races, I try to focus on other things, what tomorrow will bring. What path should I take? Maybe tomorrow I can watch the news, and see what direction I should take.