Chapter 40: Reluctant Return
Vin returns to a celebratory Resistance stronghold, grappling with grief and doubt while seeking her place amid newfound camaraderie.
As Vin navigated the buzzing corridors of the Resistance stronghold, she flinched as the chorus of jubilation enveloped her. The hidden haven rang with celebration.
Lost in her thoughts, Vin barely registered Reed’s pat on her back and his muffled words, “…you’re back.”
He moved to hug her, but she recoiled and took a step back, shifting her shoulders out of reach. Reed’s expression briefly showed hurt before he forced a smile. “Vin, the stories we’ve heard…”
Vin cut him off, “Not now, Reeds. Please.”
Her voice was a whisper, but her message was clear as she moved past. Then it was Tessa, her face a mix of worry and relief, who pulled her into that brief, tight embrace. Vin squirmed and shifted as she tried to twist out of the touch.
“Welcome home, Vin,” Tessa said, her eyes searching Vin’s. “You’re really back. We feared…” Her voice trailed off as her eyes searched Vin’s face and saw the truth. Vin nodded, the words too heavy to speak.
“Are you ok?”
The words asked a question Vin couldn’t answer out loud; she smiled weakly and moved on.
She wasn’t ok.
They hailed her as a hero, each face familiar and new, mirroring the joy of a victorious return.
I’m not a hero, she thought. People died because of me.
She moved through the throng with a hollow chest; her smiles forced, her heart anchored to the tortured memories of the Company’s dark chambers and her energy sapped.
We’d bloodied the nose of a far larger beast, Vin thought. We’ve written checks you all cannot cash. She knew in her bones the Company’s reply was going to be swift and harsh.
She craved solitude to sort through everything. Memories of Murph haunted her – his sacrifice, his final, heroic moments. Surviving the Company had changed her. Doubts crept in about her place here, her path forward. Once certain of her purpose, now she questioned everything.
Vin’s hero dreams, once inspired by a tattered Mistborn paperback from Murph, now seemed distant with his absence. She looked down, lost in thought.
“Where the hell were you?” she whispered through an aching throat, with hot tears that threatened to cascade down her face. She blinked them back. Now wasn’t the time. She’d cry in private. Murph’s actions, once her aspirations, now left her with a hollow ache, torn between admiration and grief.
Hot tears fell on the wood in front of her as a hand pushed a plate of food across the table in front of her. Something warm and hearty. A biryani, maybe. She looked up and saw Seven, a big guy with a rusty beard and tattoos up and down his left arm. The aroma of spices from the biryani mingled with the warmth of the room. Seven smiled a small smile, an unspoken offer of comfort, and nudged the plate a little closer.
She didn’t smile back, although she appreciated the mirrored sadness in his gaze. He nodded once more, then sat down opposite her. Vin looked down at the steaming plate of food and at the smiling man. He knew she wanted to be alone. He knew she knew. And yet, he smiled that infuriating smile and waited.
“Goddammit, I just want to be left alone,” she yelled.
Those around her paused and stared before Seven waved them off, chuckling, “Too much spice,” he said, and shrugged. They laughed, uncertain, and turned away, their conversations resuming a heartbeat later.
“You know the trick to a good biryani is…” without prompting, Seven started a long, meandering story about his quest to make the perfect biryani. And how hard it was in a time like this when good, clean ingredients were so hard to come by. He shrugged again, as if it was the worst thing in the world. Vin’s irritation grew.
“I’m sorry, I appreciate the food, but I can’t…”
Seven nodded, and he half turned away, but she saw him make a decision and he turned back.
“Vinaya —”
“Vin.”
“Right, Vin, you know, I was a big important hacker once, spent my life in the abstract,” he said, waving his hands around his head. “Big stories, big missions, building my legend. And I know that look in your eyes, the same one I had. Lost.”
He paused, his gaze drifting as if revisiting old memories and his voice hitched ever so slightly, “But I lost people, like you just did. So I now do this.” He gestured at the plate.
“Because it’s real, because it helps, and even if there’s and even if there’s a little too much spice sometimes, it doesn’t hurt.”
Vin felt bad for rejecting his food and she pulled it toward her, and took a bite, smiling around it at him, “It’s good, really good.”
“Thanks,” he smiled again. In his smile, she saw a mirror of her own journey, a reflection of pain turned into purpose. “But what I mean is, you can still help — all of this,” he gestured at everything, “In different ways. You don’t have to fight, you don’t have to go out there and take the hits anymore. Every bit helps.”
With that, he rapped his knuckles on the table, flipped his dishcloth over his shoulder, and cleared some empty plates before gliding back to his kitchen. As he went, Vin watched as people slapped Seven’s back and stopped him to chat. Not just one asked for seconds. Each slap, each request, a testament to the small, yet significant ways people connected and supported each other.
The scent started to get her stomach working, made her mouth draw, and it reminded her of some basic needs. Start with the simple things, Vin.
Things that she needed to do now. Things that had to happen now. Her future could wait. Her place could wait. She could be anxious later. Vin needed to take care of herself now. She took one bite, and then another.
Each one a step forward, a step through fear, a step through anxiety. Vin didn’t know what happened to Murph. She didn’t have to hate him. She didn’t have to love him, but she needed to take care of herself. And she realized that started with accepting not just the food, but the care behind it. She glanced up for Seven, but he’d disappeared somewhere, probably back into his kitchen. She took another bite, and with each bite, she stepped forward, and she came back to herself.
She gradually found the camaraderie she longed for amidst the celebratory atmosphere. But as she let herself feel welcome, like a shadow creeping, a thought wound its way into her mind. It crept up her spine like a wet newt. After working toward a good place, it felt vile, impure, but she couldn’t let it go now. She squirmed and flinched from touching again and looked at every person measuring and weighing.
Who can I trust?
And with those four words thought in her head, she remembered what she’d learned when she infiltrated the Company compound, before they caught her. She watched the gaze of a young man, the touch of an older woman, and wondered.
Who can I trust?
Her eyes locked with Omni’s, the newcomer and Murph’s last protégé. In her eyes, Vin saw a reflection of her old self, eager yet not truly unaware of the cost of their fight. That wasn’t fair; she looked almost as troubled as Vin felt. But that moment of empathy broke against the words, “Murph’s protégé. They twisted a knife Vin didn’t know was in her. She wanted to hate her, to cast her into the streets, but they needed her.
“Probably more than they need me,” she murmured, the truth escaping from her lips.
“Ugh,” she ran her fingers through her hair and roughly brushed away fresh tears. Vin needed to shake free from all these thoughts. She found a quiet corner in the mess hall, the crowd’s jubilation morphing into a subtle hum. She settled on a bench, her eyes scanned the room. Each face a reminder of what once was and what had irrevocably changed.
Her fingers trembled lightly as Zeke approached, his face a blend of bruises and remorse. He was the last person she wanted to deal with now. Worse, he trailed an entourage wherever he went. Sycophants and supplicants. Bodyguards and backstabbers. He stopped in front of her and kneeled down to speak to her, doing his paternal act.
“I’m sorry, Vin,” he said, “for everything,” his blue eyes carrying weight.
She almost believed him. He let the moment linger until the unspoken name vibrated between them.
“Murph… proved himself a hero in the end.”
Vin nodded, her eyes welling up. She wanted to let out the storm brewing within, to shout, to cry, to laugh in relief, but the words clung to her throat, the emotions tangled in a knot.
Zeke stood instead, grabbed a glass off a passing tray, and raised it. “To Murph, the bravest among us.”
The words felt like both a salute and a stab, honor and loss intertwined, an epithet for the lost. Too soon. The hall echoed with the clink of glasses, the cheer for the departed resonating through the walls. Yet, the cheer felt like a sharp twinge in Vin’s heart. She swallowed She swallowed hard, and smiled.
The night rolled on, thick with stories of valor, shared memories, and drunken promises of vengeance against their oppressors. Amidst it all, Vin’s eyes often met Omni’s, the new face, the new hope. As the crowd dwindled and laughter softened, a question wriggled through the quiet of the night.
“What now?” her voice, barely more than a breath, carried the weight of their shared uncertainty and hope. Omni looked back, her eyes reflecting the mosaic of hope, fear, and determination that the morning held.
The dawn was on the horizon, and as Vin looked out at the first rays slicing through the dark, she knew the fight was far from over, the path ahead more uncertain, yet hope flickered amidst the brewing storm.
As Vin lay down on her bunk, the stronghold now silent, her fingers wrapped around a battered paperback. She drew the book close to her heart, the tears flowing as the ache overwhelmed her.