CELIA FELT RIGHT IN FOUR'S EMBRACE. She could feel his breath on her neck, making her know that he was real. That he was there. "My mom died today. My real mother," she said, her voice muffled by his jacket. "She's gone."
"I know. But she loved you, Celia. For her, there was no better way to show you," he comforted her. Celia moved a little, her head now placed under his chin.
"We have nothing. No home. No faction. I don't even know who the hell I am anymore," she admitted. Four grabbed her chin, moving her head away from his, to look into her eyes.
"I know exactly who you are, Celia." His voice was low, determined.
"You sure about that?" She questioned.
He nodded, "Yeah, I'm very sure," she smiled at his words. At least one of them knew who she was. "Come here." Celia hugged him again, not over her mom's death, but she knew she had to move on eventually.
They were like the faction less now. They left everything behind, but they found themselves and each other. Tomorrow they may have to fight again, but, right then, they just rode the train to the end of the line... And then, they'll jump.
As for Four, his perception of Celia hadn't changed. She was still the calm before the storm, but the hurricane underneath had turned into thunder and lightning.
She was his storm.