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“Of course you do.” St. Maarten scoffed.

When he didn’t go on immediately, she fingered another piece of her unnaturally straight bob off a high, angular cheekbone. When Nick continued to not speak, a few seconds later, she motioned him forward impatiently.

“What is it?” she asked crossly. “Say the words, Nick. Out loud. Now. You have a fight tonight. Or didn’t you hear me? Farlucci has been pestering me all day.”

Nick continued to watch the park turn more golden and redder.

“I want your people to help me to remember,” he said. “If you’re okay with that.”

He watched the colors change and darken under the dome.

“If I can’t return to my world, I at least want to remember it,” he went on flatly. “I can’t get over something I don’t understand well enough to accept.”

He turned to look at her directly, his voice still emotionless.

“I’d like to remember how it happened… how I got here. I also want to know what I’ve been doing here, all of this time. I want to know who I came with through the portal, what happened to them, and how the war went down. I want to know what part I played, how I ended up in the White Death, and what I did while I was with them.”

He studied her face, his voice a touch harder.

“I’ve had dreams that strongly suggest it was Brick who pulled me through that door,” Nick added. “…and that I wasn’t exactly willing. For the same reason, I’d strongly prefer if that informationwasn’tentirely filtered through the dubious explanations of my sire, who likely has strong motivation to lie about what really went down. I’d rather it wasn’t filtered through anyone, for that matter. I want to remember…reallyremember… the truth of what happened to me. At this point, I don’t even know if I fought in the war at all. My doppelgänger did… I’m reasonably sure of that… but I don’t know ifIdid. If Ididdo that, I want to know who I fought for. And why. I also have a vague memory of people being…”

He thought of Charles, of the seer he’d always believed to be the individual who began the wars here, on this dimension.

Now, he wasn’t so sure.

“…dead,” he ended bluntly. “People Ialsoseem to think came here, even after they’d died. I need to reconcile all of these things. I want to know which things are true and which aren’t. I’m tired of living with memories I don’t trust, stories told to me by Brick and others that feel only half-true, or maybe not true at all.”

Nick’s jaw flexed.

“I want the truth about myself, and how I got here,” he repeated, gruff. “I deserve that. Don’t I? If I’m never going to go back… if I’m never to see my home world again, or be with the people I left behind, I at least deserve to have that part ofmyselfback. Don’t I?”

There was a silence.

Nick noticed St. Maarten’s expression had changed, however.

She looked curious almost, even intrigued.

She also looked just the tiniest bit relieved, like she saw this as a good sign.

Like she thought Nick’s request might mean he was willing to seek acceptance.

Of course, it could be an act.

It was probably an act.

Unless she was simply trying to figure out how to use his confession, his mostly-true vulnerability around his desire for the truth of his life, to her advantage.

“Done,” she said. “I can’t promise anything––”

“I wouldn’t expect you could,” Nick cut in. “Which is why I didn’t ask for any guarantees. Only for your help. Or your lack of obstruction, at least.” He gave her a warning look. “I’d like Tai for the seer side of things. And Malek.”

She nodded slowly, but he saw her lips pinch.

“Not Wynter?” she asked.

“Not right away,” Nick said. “It’s personal for her. It might make things harder.”

Lara nodded slowly a second time.