Warning: this chapter is more intense than past chapters. Please do not read if upset by injury, heights, or mentions of blood.

"Standing on the cliff face, highest fall you'll ever grace
It scares me half to death
Look out to the future, but it tells you nothing
So, take another breath"

- Bastille, "Icarus"

Chapter Fifty

There was no white light.

I wasn't sure if that was a good thing, or a bad thing, or nothing at all.

What there was, however, was a pounding behind my eyes, spreading rapidly across the rest of my skull. The blood rushing in my head was the only thing I could hear or feel. All I saw was darkness—it was like floating in nothingness, except someone was hitting my head with a hammer in a steady tempo of agony.

Slowly, I regained awareness, feeling nerves sluggishly switch on and muscles twitch. I realized my eyes were only closed. I wasn't dead.

Reed.

I wasn't dead. My eyes were closed.

Reed.

It was harder to open them than it'd been to close them. Only a crack at first, hesitant and hazy, until my lids snapped shut again at the blinding light that greeted me. A few pulses in my head later, I tried again. I peeled my eyes open and immediately felt the rest of my missing feelings slam into me. What was slow at first, a soft trickle of regained senses, now hit me like a freight train.

Reed.

My head felt like it was split open, and my arm radiated with pain. A burning sensation was buzzing on my chest and face; a swarm of bees spreading and slowly taking over my body. The light in my eyes was too bright, and the air seemed too fuzzy.

Reed.

My eyes couldn't focus on anything as I coughed. Suddenly, I realized the air wasn't fuzzy; it was just the best my eyes could do. They weren't able to focus after being rattled in my skull, and the white smoke filling the car didn't help. Everything was bright white and distorted. It was worse than looking at something underwater.

Did we fall?

I tried to shift my neck to look, but yelped as the muscles contracted in protest. I took a moment to reclaim my breath, then moved a little slower to try again. I looked out the windshield and felt my gut plummet. The left side of the car was dangling off the edge of the cliff; the two left wheels clearly no longer touched the ground. We'd spun to face the opposite direction of where we should've turned with the road. The slant was enough to be uncomfortable, but not so much that I couldn't sit up.

Reed.

The car tilted precariously on the edge; it seemed the mangled guard rail was the only thread we hung from, but the metal barrier didn't offer much support for the teetering vehicle. The stretch of guardrail from where the car dangled was gone completely, pushed over the edge to the open valley below, and the ripped ends were just barely long enough to have an unsteady hook on the car.

REED.

I squinted my eyes, shifting the other way, but I could only see a dark shape in the driver's seat. I tried to say his name but my mouth wouldn't cooperate. It died in my throat and gurgled into a groan.

I remembered the airbags going off, harsh and intense when we hit the guardrail; that must've caused the heat I'd felt.

I shifted my eyes down, feeling like I was going to be sick at the dizziness that surged. My suspicions were confirmed as I stared at the blurry, bright red marks marring my skin. The airbags had done serious damage, but I knew it would've been a lot worse if they hadn't gone off at all.

I fought to keep my eyes from rolling back into my head; the spinning of the car followed by the slamming of my skull had been too much. White smoke still wafted in the air and tickled my throat and lungs. I wasn't sure if the smoke was from the airbags alone, or if we had another issue smoldering under the torn hood of the car.

I tried to move my arms. I still couldn't see very well, and my head was too loud with its throbs, but I needed to know if Reed was okay. Both of my arms responded—but only one arm made it up. The other arm flared in pain and fell back down against my will. My mouth tasted metal at the pain, and even more so when I looked down and saw a sharp angle of bone.

Oh, yeah, that's broken. No doubt about it.

There was another arm across my lap, but it wasn't mine. It lay limply across the center console and partly on my legs. I remembered Reed throwing his arm over me as we spun. He'd extended his arm across my chest with his palm facing me, and it still held the angle even then across my lap. His palm was now open and unmoving, and his arm curved unnaturally where it fell. His skin was red from the airbags.

I wanted to sob at the lifeless curl to his fingers. 

I tried to move to grip his hand, but tears sprung at the sharp stab in my arm. My uninjured arm slowly, but finally, made to hold him tightly, trying to avoid the angry red patches that covered his skin. I hoped his arm would move at my touch. A twitch, a flick, a tremble, anything. As long as it was something; anything that meant he was okay.

But he didn't move. My lungs shuddered in my chest as I tried to breathe through the pain. I squeezed my eyes shut and willed them to clear. I needed to get to Reed.

I opened my eyes again, blinking away the fuzziness. There was no doubt I had a concussion, but that didn't matter. What mattered was I hadn't seen Reed move yet. I didn't know if he was okay. I shifted in my seat, gritting my teeth and swallowing my groans, forcing myself to completely turn to face Reed.

His shoulder and elbow were twisted from holding me back onto my seat, but he made no move to correct their unnatural configuration. He didn't move at all. His body slumped against the seat, his eyes gently closed, and I saw no flutter or flash of green. The side airbag had gone off and blown him back into his seat, but not before his body was thrown around from the force of the spinning car. His mouth was parted slightly, and I could've pretended he was sleeping if it weren't for the trickle of blood that started on his temple. It was the side of his face turned away from me, but I could faintly see the stream of red as it went down his cheek to his shirt.

"Reed?" I croaked. I fought against the seatbelt still containing me to my seat. It dug into my neck and chafed, the skin injured from the strap digging in during the crash, but I didn't care. I didn't care about the pain in my broken arm, the concussion in my head, or the burns across my chest and face. I didn't care about the pain that threatened to consume me and drag me under again.

I cared about the love of my life slumped unresponsively in the driver's seat.

"Reed!" I shouted hoarsely, thrashing in my seat. The seatbelt wouldn't release, and no matter how hard I tugged, it wouldn't let me get to him. I cried out in pain when I tried to use both arms in desperation.

Then I froze.

The car had shifted. Ever so slightly, but enough to remind me we dangled over a fatal drop in a car that'd seen better days. One strong gust would probably be all it took for what was left of the guard rail to give way, for the other half of the car to topple to our grave.

"Reed," I tried again. My voice was still mangled in my throat; the smoke was burning my airways. We needed to get out. I reached with my good arm, gently grasping his shoulder and shaking him.

When he didn't move, my heart clenched harder, and my hand slid up to his neck. My fingers were shaky when they pressed to his throat.

Lord? God? Christ, sir...we've never really talked before. Or at all. So, hi. I'm Avery. I don't know if you're up there, all high and mighty. That sounded sarcastic, it wasn't sarcastic, let me start over. Oh my god, Avery, it's not an answering machine, get it together. Just... God, please let him be okay. Please. Please.

The pounding in my head bowed under the chanted pleas in my head as I searched for his pulse.

When it faintly jumped against my shaking fingers, I could have shouted. I could've cried at the weak heartbeat beneath my fingers. My hand dropped back to his shoulder, and I clutched it like a lifeline as I battled the sobs climbing my throat.

I had to get him out. His side of the car dangled over a chasm that could steal that pulse from him—could steal him from me. I carefully lifted his arm from my lap and put in his, hoping it'd ease some of the strain on his shoulder and elbow.

My seatbelt still refused to give, and I felt my frustration peak as I tugged at the material. It locked in retaliation, pressing tightly against my burned skin. I cried out in anger and pain.

I screeched as I lost it in the passenger seat, pushing down the urge to thrash and throw my body around for fear the car would shift, or topple over the edge. I had a controlled moment of fury as I pounded my hand against the button, cursing at the car and calling out for Reed.

I needed Reed.

I needed him to wake up and tell me what to do. I needed him to be okay, and I needed to get off the cliff, and away from there. Far away from bullets, and hackers, and the dangers of being me. Far away from the people who wanted me dead, and the people who wanted Reed dead. I needed him to be far away from Greystone and the AG's office—from whoever would betray him to the point of trying to fling him off a cliff.

A small groan broke me out of my raging fury. I stopped, fingers excruciatingly pressed down on the button. My other hand paused from clawing the strap that dug into my neck, and I whipped around to stare at the hunched body next to mine.

Reed stirred ever so slightly, like he'd heard both my vocal and silent pleas for him and grimaced with his eyes still closed. A louder groan sounded as he shifted a little more.

"Reed? Reed! Wake up! Wake up, Reed, please." I sounded hysterical as I called desperately for him. My heart lightened its clench when Reed grunted in pain, his eyes opening a crack just like mine had before snapping back closed. He lifted his head slowly before trying to open them again. He was disoriented, and his eyes swam with pain and confusion when they finally met mine.

"Reed," I cried in relief. I was so happy to see those eyes open. Even shrouded in pain and hazy with befuddlement, I was grateful to see him awake.

It took a few seconds for his fog to clear enough to take in his surroundings. His gaze dropped to the seatbelt holding me tightly to my seat, then to my hand trying to tug it off my neck, and down to my other arm that twisted in the wrong direction at my side. Even in his confused state, Reed jolted forward in a panic to reach me. His injured body refused to listen; he fell back in his seat with an agonized grunt, a swirl of fear clouding his eyes.

"Avery?" His voice was hoarse like mine as he tried to reach me again. His face twisted in pain at his injured shoulder, but he pushed through it to extend his arm. I let the seatbelt go, feeling it snap against me as I took his trembling hand. I gripped it with every ounce of strength I could muster, cradling it in clammy fingers and ignoring the pressure on my neck.

"Are you okay?"

"You're okay," I cried, ignoring his question. "You're awake."

"I'm okay." He nodded. The confusion hadn't completely cleared up yet, and the dullness to his eyes told me he had a concussion, too. His skin was pale and tinged with yellow. Bruises were already forming from where he'd hit the steering wheel and dashboard, and I wasn't sure how accurate either of our statements were. His eyes moved down to his body, realizing he was trapped in his seat, too. He tugged at the seatbelt in a daze.

"What happened?"

I balked at his question. His eyes had moved to the airbag in front of him, and he was about to look out the windshield before I stopped him. "Reed?"

His eyes snapped to mine immediately, wide in concern. My mouth fell open as I searched frantically for what to say. After a fruitless pause, I said the first thing that came to mind.

"Don't look down."

He swallowed harshly as my words sunk in. I knew he was going to look down, but I hoped my warning was enough to prepare him even just a little for what he'd see. Ever so slowly, he hesitantly turned to look out the windshield, and he took in the scene we were stuck in. The airbags on his window blocked some of the view, but he could see what I had. He could see the dire situation we found ourselves in.

The dangling car and the guardrail that threatened to drop us.

The smoke that softly billowed from under the hood of the car.

The crumpled metal and crushed frame of the vehicle where it embraced the guardrail.

A soft curse was said under his breath. He took a moment to process and prepare. But when he finally turned to me, I didn't see hopelessness as I'd expected; I saw steel in his eyes beginning to form. A determination that simmered and brewed, and for a moment it made me think we would be okay.

"It's okay," Reed promised, struggling against a cough in his throat. He choked it back down and refused to let it out. The hope in my chest faded with every spasm of his own. "We'll get out of here."

I nodded, unable to let go of his hand or find the heart to point out there was a good chance we wouldn't.

"Don't move, okay? No sudden movements." He squeezed my hand before reluctantly dropping it to tap the screen. The screen remained black and unresponsive, not impressed by his efforts and just as dead as the rest of the car was. Reed pounded his hand on the dashboard as hard as he could without risking the car moving.

The screen still remained black.

His head finally fell back against the seat in defeat. We wouldn't be able to reach Beck that way. I didn't think we'd be able to reach him at all; my phone was in my bag in the backseat and Reed's had fallen between the seats.

"Beck knew where we were. People are coming to us right now." His face flashed with agony as he tried to sit himself up more. His shoulders were slumped as he released his seatbelt with a hard shove on the button. He hadn't thrashed around as I had upon waking; his seatbelt let him out immediately.

His jaw flexed as he gritted his teeth, but he pushed through whatever wracked his body and leaned over to my side of the car. We needed to keep as much weight as possible off the driver's side.

"Careful, you're hurt," I scolded fearfully. I could still feel how faint his pulse had been when it'd fluttered under my fingers. I hoped with every beat of my own that his was faster and stronger now that he was awake.

"I'm okay," he muttered.

His focus was back on me, and his expression was hard as he reached out. His fingers tenderly traced around the burns, carefully avoiding the blistered skin as he gently moved my legs. He surveyed the extent of the burns with an unreadable expression. His hand next drew up to the seatbelt across my chest, his knuckles turning white as he pulled it away. His injured shoulder flexed in protest, but he paid it no mind as he fought the pull of the locked strap. He pushed at the button with his other hand, jamming it as I had, but the seatbelt refused to release. He kept it from digging further into my neck as he struggled with the mechanism.

"Leave it," I ordered. I didn't want him injuring his shoulder any more than it was. But Reed ignored me; his hand abandoned the button to open the center console. He dug around before pulling out a black pocketknife.

"Hold on."

He flicked open the knife and set to work slicing through the belt. I let out a sigh of relief when it snapped and released. He quickly cut the one around my waist as well and closed the blade.

"Thank you." I cradled my arm to my body, trying not to be sick at the bone pain that rattled my well-being. Bone pain was an entirely different ballgame than other types of pain. It was felt in the base of my throat and in my chest like a half-triggered gag reflex—internal and external all at the same time. My adrenaline was keeping the full brunt of it away, but it was growing stronger the longer we sat there.

"We gotta get out of here." Reed winced as he tried to lean over me to my car door. I pushed him back, light but firm in my dissuasion.

"Stop, I already told you to be careful."

But Reed was shaking his head, draping his body over the center console. "Is the door unlocked?"

It hadn't been when we were driving, but there was nothing stopping me now from popping the lock open with my good hand. The car was off and smoking, and whoever'd hacked the car had no power over us anymore. My hand gripped the door handle, but I paused before moving further.

What if opening the car door shifts the car too much?

My mind spun with every tv show, movie, and news report I'd ever seen about cars on cliffs. I didn't know the stability of the soil, the wind speed, the weight distribution of the car and its passengers. I didn't know if my opening the door would seal our deaths. Obviously, we needed to open the door to get out, but what if I opened it too fast? What if it was too sudden, or too much of a shift in weight?

"What is it?" Reed asked breathlessly. His chest heaved as he panted, fingers curled over his abdomen. I didn't know how hard he'd hit the steering wheel before the airbags went off.

We needed to get medical attention as soon as possible.

"What if it causes us to fall?" I mumbled. Reed tilted his head as he contemplated my question, but I rushed on. "I don't want to stay in a car about to fall off a cliff, but what if we have to? Maybe we should wait until help gets here and they can help stabilize the car."

"Avery, we may not have that kind of time," Reed said slowly. "And we can't climb out the window."

"I know. The door's our only option, but maybe we should just sit tight until help gets here."

Reed was adamant as he shook his head. "No, you have to get out. The car could topple over."

"Me? We both have to get out. And you have to get out first," I informed incredulously. Based on the fact his side was the one over the edge, he'd have to climb out first while my weight remained to stabilize the car. If I got out before him, the car could lose its counterbalance and fall, and there was no good way for both of us to fit in my seat so I could get out first.

"No. Open the door and get out," he said firmly.

It was my turn to shake my head. "This isn't the time for 'ladies first', this is math. You have to get out first. Climb over me."

I continued to explain the logic, but Reed just kept shaking his head. "I understand what you're saying, Avery, but there's no way I'm getting out first and leaving you in this car. So, get out."

"Do you hear yourself? You'd rather unnecessarily risk your life to stay behind instead of just following the logical order of you getting out first? Are you out of your mind?" I exclaimed. There was no way in hell I was getting out first. Especially not just because he didn't want to leave me. It made no sense.

I liked sense. I always had.

He needed to get on board sooner rather than later, because I couldn't believe we were still in the stupid car.

"Let's just open the door first," he said.

He wasn't meeting my eyes. Reed always met my eyes. I could see right through him; he wasn't slick with his attempt to be dishonest about his intentions.

"Fine." I breathed through my nose, knowing there was no way I was getting out first. He couldn't make me.

My heart felt like it was in the wrong place in my chest as I stilled my hands on the door. The organ pounded too much to the right, far too close to my airways, but no deep breaths could shift it back into place.

"Careful. Just swing it open slowly." Reed's voice was low and reassuring. "It'll be fine."

I nodded, unable to do much more than that. But I steeled my grip and softly popped the door handle. My broken arm offered little power, forcing me to shift my shoulder to push the door. It swung open as slowly and carefully as I could, pausing every few inches to ensure the car wasn't slipping underneath us.

I used my aching leg to push the door open all the way when my arms couldn't reach any further. The skin around the burns pulled taut and threatened to crack, but I ignored it as I straightened out.

First my knee, now this. I need a better insurance deductible at this rate.

The door was open, revealing the settling dust and dirt from our unintentional donut driving. Black marks painted the road from where our brakes had finally started to work, all the way up until the road gave way to the gravelly soil of the lookout.

"Alright, out you get." I turned to Reed with an expectant and unwavering look. A look that hopefully informed him I would not be entertaining any more bullshit about me getting out first. We were in a time-sensitive emergency.

I looked down, trying to tuck my body into the seat as much as possible to let him pass.

"Look at me, Avery."

I pursed my lips at his voice.

He better be telling me to look at him so he can climb over. It better be so that we're on the same page about the coordination this will take.

I relented slowly. His face was blank, and his eyes were calm. That wasn't good.

I pushed the topic immediately. "Are you climbing over?"

"Do you trust me?"

If there was ever a question to throw someone off balance, it was asking if they trusted the other person. The internal conflict that question created was so intense, and so overwhelming, that the tongue seemed unmovable; thoughts became too muddled.

Of course I trusted him.

But that was the sort of question that created suspicion and paranoia no matter how deep the well of trust ran. That was the sort of question that made you wonder if you should trust them in that moment, even if you usually did.

I remembered that same question, asked in a small doctor's office near the safehouse.

"Avery. Do you trust me?" He asked. I paused and thought about it.

"I want to," I answered, as truthfully as I could in the moment.

I did trust him; I trusted him so much. But I also knew what that question meant. "That's exactly what someone says before they do something stupid, Reed."

I stared, waiting to see where this was going. He nodded at my words, a small smile flickering at the corners of his lips.

"Yes, it is. I love you."

It was swift. It was unforgivable. Reed's arms shot out and pushed me, not hard, but just firm enough to topple my unsteady body out of my seat. Even with the suspicion his question had caused, I was caught off guard as I hit the dirt. I'd expected him to argue with me, not push me out of the car.

My body tumbled out with an air-relinquishing 'oof'. Luckily, I fell on my back, since I'd been facing Reed when he pushed me. I didn't land on anything directly, like my broken arm. Still, my flailing as I fell was enough to send electric waves of pain from the snapped bone through every inch of my body—my lungs lost their air even before the ground had the chance to knock the wind out of me.

I laid startled in the dirt, eyes wide as I stared up at the sky and fought for breath.

What the hell just happened?

My mind wasn't able to catch up with my surroundings before a dark shadow blocked the sun. With a grunt, Reed's body flopped out of the car after me. He crashed down, catching himself before he landed on me, but his elbows buckled. He just barely missed me as he collapsed to my side.

My head turned to face him. I still couldn't get the air back in my lungs; I wheezed as I looked at his panting form beside me. Shock, anger, and relief swarmed me, making my already dizzy head spin just as a loud groan sounded through the air.

But it wasn't me or the injured man next to me that groaned; it was a mangled groan of bowing metal and crumpling guardrails.

I felt the car's disappearance before I saw it. I felt it in my chest as it fell, feeling as if the rapidly descending car was falling down the empty space inside of me, instead of into the open valley. When I found the strength to lift my head, aided by a gasp of air I was finally able to snatch, I looked at the empty space where a guardrail should have stretched across.

But there was no guardrail. And there was no car.

I laid my head back down. Reed's eyes had found me when I'd first looked at him; I still felt them as I burned my retinas with the sun again. His gaze never strayed, not even to glance at where the car once was.

No, he only looked at me.

We laid in the dirt and caught our breath. We laid in the dirt and prayed it was over.

It wasn't. We had traitors to confront. We had hackers to catch, and duties to fulfill. But for the moment, we laid in the dirt. We laid there and held each other; we let our hearts settle and our minds accept that we made it. Accept the other was okay. That he was there, and I was there, and we were under the sun that still shone down on us.

We laid there, together, and waited for our friends to find us.