Terminal (Terminal trilogy #1)

23: Gardener

"I just want to talk with you." I was leaning against one of the walls of the elevator, clutching the railing as the old thing buckled and flickered with bronze light.

"I get that." Blake was sitting on the ground and staring at the floor.

"You said you were going to come with me."

"I think I know what's wrong with you at this point, you know? I think at some point I realized that maybe this Hell wasn't much more than a bunch of humans with horns, and that anything odd about you had nothing to do with the afterlife."

"There's nothing wrong with me, Blake."

"Please." He paused. "I'm sorry."

"I just wanted to get you away from the group, okay? We should have gone in the city and stayed there, but now we're here, and we're going to Earth."

"Not through the portal, I notice. Won't this take us to a wasteland?"

"More trees than a wasteland. I just want to talk."

"When we arrive, I'm going to get back on the elevator and head back to Hell. Alone," Blake said, "I'm super sorry, just... I can't deal with you. I don't want to, and I think at some point I have to realize I don't owe you shit."

"Don't-" I squeaked, flinching. Oh God, that was the weakest thing I'd ever done. I was never going to forget it.

"Get yourself together. I mean, who are you? Who are you trying to be? I get this really big feeling you're always lying to me. You're certainly rude as hell, but you seize up the moment the littlest thing doesn't go your way. I'm sorry, but I'm sort of sick of you."

Getting told off by Blake was the next most embarrassing thing I'd been through after that squeak. It was absolutely mortifying for the first few seconds, where I held my head and generally felt shocked. Then it sank in that nothing about it was particularly mortifying- he was just being honest. He was correct, and I could recognize it as such, and-

A lot of me was ashamed then, that I was still thinking I was somehow above his judgement. He was my friend now. He knew me well enough to be correct.

I was just, in general, a fucking mess. That's all.

What I wanted to stay: 'I'm sorry'.

What I said: "If you come with me now, I'll leave you alone forever."

"Really?"

"Yes."

"I don't know if I want that either. I just need a break, and we're planning a protest in the square, and I'm not there, and-"

"Please let me go."

"That's probably a good idea."

We were quiet for a couple minutes.

"We're at th-" I started to say.

Blake interrupted, "I know how much of your emotional wellbeing rests on my shoulders. It scares me. You need to learn to take care of yourself, not just the one or two people you've imprinted on."

"I'm not a demon."

"Is that true?"

"Yes."

"Okay." Blake looked up at me. "I just want you to know that I don't hate you, and you should try not to hate yourself."

"I'm an deathless immortal who's been alive for two centuries."

"I've grown from knowing you," Blake said carefully, "I think you've grown too. But sometimes you run out of growth, and things get stagnant, and then there's no more point."