CHAPTER 243: Alaska, a Safe Place - 10

CHAPTER 243: Alaska, a Safe Place - 10

Fenix and Marcus walked along the platform in silence.

Around them, people continued with their lives. Some checked their watches, others dragged suitcases or said goodbye with hurried embraces. The distant sound of a train arriving mixed with the announcements over the loudspeakers.

And, even so, that place seemed strangely isolated from the rest of the world.

As if only the two of them existed.

The silence became uncomfortable quickly.

Fenix put his hands in his coat pockets and let out a brief nasal laugh.

—How long has it been since we had a normal conversation?

Marcus raised an eyebrow.

—Normal?

—You know. No gunshots, no monsters, no one trying to rip the other's head off.

Marcus let out a laugh.

A real one.

One of those Fenix had not heard in far too long.

—I'd say… about twelve years.

He brought a hand to his chin.

—Maybe thirteen.

He looked at the glass ceiling, pensive.

—Who knows.

Fenix nodded slowly.

—Sounds right.

Marcus remained silent for a few moments.

His expression became more serious.

—Everything went to hell pretty fast.

The train that had just arrived opened its doors with a metallic hiss.

Neither of them paid it any attention.

—Before, everything seemed simpler —Marcus continued—. We had clear enemies, clear objectives…

He sketched a bitter smile.

—And a ridiculous amount of ammunition.

Fenix let out a slight laugh.

—That hasn't changed.

Marcus shook his head.

—No, but the world has.

His gaze was lost in the orange horizon filtering between the station's glass panes.

—It's not the same world we knew anymore.

The words hung suspended between them.

Heavy.

True.

—Now everything is a disaster.

Fenix kept his gaze fixed forward for a few seconds.

The rattle of a train moving away momentarily filled the silence between them.

Finally, he spoke.

—Are you angry with me?

Marcus glanced at him sideways.

—No.

Fenix frowned slightly.

—No?

Marcus shrugged.

—Why would I be?

Fenix let out a dry laugh, devoid of humor.

—I can think of several reasons.

He lowered his gaze to the polished platform floor.

—If I had paid more attention… if I had listened to certain things about Enid…

His voice lost firmness.

—Maybe neither of us would have ended up like this.

A pause.

—Maybe Vanessa and Lucian would still be alive.

Marcus stopped.

Fenix too.

The station kept moving around them, but that conversation seemed to occur outside of time.

Marcus observed him for a few moments.

Then he slowly shook his head.

—Listen to me carefully, Fen.

His tone was serious, but not harsh.

—You're not that important.

Fenix blinked.

Marcus smiled sideways.

—I mean, yes, your ego is gigantic, but not that much.

Fenix let out a brief exhale through his nose.

Marcus continued.

—You don't control all the variables of the universe. You don't decide every action of every person. You're not some kind of cosmic director with a script in your hand.

He began walking again.

—Enid made her own decisions. Bad, terrible, catastrophic ones… very in her style, really.

Fenix followed him in silence.

—Vanessa made hers. Lucian too. Me too.

Marcus put his hands in his pockets.

—We all chose. We all made mistakes. We all paid for them.

His gaze hardened slightly.

—That's called living.

The orange sunset bathed his face.

—Carrying your own mistakes is noble.

He looked at him directly.

—Carrying everyone else's is stupid.

Fenix said nothing.

Marcus smiled.

—And you've been many things, Fen.

He made a dramatic pause.

—But I wouldn't recommend adding "stupid" to the list.

A slight smile appeared on Fenix's face.

Marcus kept talking.

—What happened wasn't your fault. It was a tragedy, yes. A chain of bad decisions, secrets, and broken people trying to fix things that couldn't be fixed.

His voice softened.

—But it wasn't your fault.

The noise of another train resonated in the station.

—You couldn't save everyone.

Marcus fixed his eyes on him.

—No one can.

Fenix looked away.

Those words hit harder than any punch.

—The only thing you can do —Marcus continued— is keep going.

A small crooked smile appeared again.

Fenix stood motionless.

The bustle of the station seemed to have faded, as if the entire world had decided to grant them a few minutes of intimacy.

His eyes remained fixed on the ground.

For the first time in a long time, there was no sarcasm, no arrogance, no mask of confidence that he wore even when alone.

Only him remained.

A tired man.

A broken man.

—Marcus…

His voice came out lower than usual.

More fragile.

—I'm sorry.

Marcus turned his head slightly toward him.

Fenix swallowed.

—I'm sorry I wasn't there. I'm sorry I didn't see what was happening. I'm sorry… I couldn't save you.

His jaw trembled barely for an instant.

—I failed you.

Marcus remained silent for a few seconds.

Then he let out a small nasal laugh.

—Fen, if I've learned anything after dying, it's that guilt ages terribly.

That drew a slight tired smile from Fenix.

Marcus stopped and placed himself in front of him.

His expression became serious.

Deeply serious.

—Listen to me carefully.

Fenix raised his gaze.

—The best thing you can do for us is not to lament.

Marcus rested a hand on his shoulder.

—It's to keep going.

The station was enveloped in the distant sound of a locomotive.