By the time we were done that night, all six Circuit leaders were dead, the jeep was burning in a cornfield, and we were miles away from the crime scenes. We took the hoverboards as far as we dared in the morning light, north into the most densely forested area we could find, and there Lucas set up some camping gear. He had a small tent, which I didn't recall him having before, and he had the random things in his backpack. There were a number of gadgets in there that I'd never quite figured out how to use or just hadn't bothered with. I actually felt a relief that they were back in his hands; I hadn't really done them justice. One of the first things he'd done when we settled down was dump the bag and sort through the items. While he did that, I went into the tent and slept for several hours.

When I woke, it was late afternoon, maybe five or six, and I was at first uncertain as to where I was. The tent was sort of dim inside, not letting much light through, and when I'd worked through my initial confusion, I unzipped it and crawled out to find Lucas pretty much where I'd left him, though now he had a small fire going. Had he even moved, at all? I knew we didn't need as much sleep as normal people, but I couldn't remember ever seeing him sleep, not even once.

Approaching him, I sat cross-legged on the ground across from him. Neither of us said anything for a few moments, but I caught him eyeing me through the flames, and when I did, he looked away.

"You're different from when I first met you," he said at length.

"How so?" I knew how so. Maybe I just wanted to hear him say it.

He poked at the burning logs, turned them a bit so the flames caught one of the newer ones. "Smarter. Harder."

I looked at the glowing fire, watched it dance, lost my sight in it. I thought about what had happened with Paolo, and Peale, and Roxie, and him and Amirah. "Not smarter, really," I said quietly.

"I meant that you know how things are, now. What matters."

Sighing, I sat back a little. "You said you'd talk to me, tell me everything, if I helped."

He half-smiled. "Was it really helping? You'd have enjoyed it anyway, I think." The firelight caught in his eyes and he looked like a demon across the way, for a moment.

"Maybe."

Sitting back as well, he acquiesced. "Fine. Ask whatever you want, and I'll answer."

"Can't you just talk? Like, your whole story, from the beginning?"

"There's not a story." He picked up a metal water bottle, unscrewed the cap, handed it to me across the fire. When I raised my eyebrows, he took a drink, said, "See? Just water."

"Ok, fine." I took the bottle. I was pretty thirsty, anyway. But I sensed he was trying to evade my questions, again, even though he'd offered to talk. He had to have a story. "Have they messed with your mind, too?"

"Not for a long time."

"How long?"

He looked irritated, but then he thought about it. "I guess . . . when they first separated all of us. It's been, maybe, fifteen years."

I nearly choked on my drink of water. "That long ago? You'd have been two or three--"

"I've always been this age, whatever it is--as long as I can remember. So have you, and all of us."

I stared in disbelief. "But that's impossible."

He shrugged, like it was nothing.

I pushed aside my shock. I had to take advantage of his willingness to talk while I could. "What was it like, when you woke up? Where were you?"

His eyes glazed, his voice lowered, as he remembered. "The beach house. Underground."

I waited for him to keep going, gave him plenty of time to continue, to move into the memory and develop it, but he said nothing. It was like, he was just done. I didn't want to push him, but on the other hand, he'd promised . . . "You've had your memory since then? What've you been doing?"

He sniffed a little as if to pull himself from whatever dark reverie he'd fallen into. "Whatever they told me to. I was there for so long. Alone. I didn't know there'd been others." His brow lowered. "I had feelings, sometimes, that someone else had been there. They'd let me on the beach, in the house, more and more as the time went on."

"Do you know who they are?"

"No."

A distinct nausea crept into me. "You're telling me that they kept you in that underground room for years? That the things that Henry went through . . . it was like that for you, for years?" He didn't respond. Did they hurt you? I wanted to ask. But there was no way he'd answer that question. It didn't matter; he hadn't even seemed to hear my questions, anyway. And I knew the answer. Of course they'd hurt him. It's why he was what he was. It had to be. "Then, was coming to Animas Forks to find me--was that the first time you'd been away from them?"

Eyes still in the flames, he nodded almost imperceptibly.

"Why'd they let you out?"

"To get you."

"But you obviously didn't do that . . ."

"No."

I huffed in frustration. Lucas was being so difficult to talk to, although I'd been stupid if I'd thought he'd all of a sudden be an open book. It was like he just didn't know how to have a conversation. "So you went rogue when you split me and Paolo up. I know everything with all that."

Lucas narrowed his eyes at me. "Do you?" I scrunched up my face in confusion. Didn't I? "What happened to that--friend of yours?"

"Paolo?" Why did everyone want to talk about him? I just wanted to forget about him. I turned away to look into the trees.

"He's dead, isn't he?"

I didn't answer. My eyes closed and saw Paolo's charming smile, his beautiful face there; I breathed deeply, slowly.

"Well," Lucas continued casually, sarcastically, even, "doesn't he always get what he wants?"

Snapping back to him, I asked, "Who?"

"Henry, obviously."

The forest seemed quieter as I dipped into a sort of fog. Should I even ask? He seemed to be waiting for it, anyway. "What do you mean?"

"I thought you'd have talked about everything. He'd told you everything."

Henry had. We had. Lucas was trying to unnerve me. "Yes, you're right. Henry told me everything."

"That we watched you, every day, when you were in that house with those people? The ones I took out--the car? Did he tell you the house was bugged? Their phones, they were bugged? Every interaction they had with you, every movement you made in that house, in that school, anywhere you went--we watched all of it."

That was disconcerting . . . uncomfortable . . . something to process. And why hadn't Henry told me? But I couldn't immediately see what was wrong with it, really. Of course they'd bugged the Hineses' house. I knew the Hineses were involved with the Circuit. They weren't trusted. Lucas himself had told me as much. Why he and Henry would've been allowed to watch what went on was beyond me, but those masked people didn't make any sense that I could tell. "So--that's weird. But what does it matter?"

Lucas was staring at me, like he wanted to know what I felt, but there was no smile on his face. He wasn't making fun of me, as far as I could tell. "It was his idea, to get your friend involved. Asked them, and they approved."

"Henry's idea? He wanted Paolo to come with me? But, why?"

Something almost like pity but not quite crept across Lucas's features, glistened in his icy eyes. "You'd have to ask him. But he saw you together. Suggested he come with you . . . and now, well, he's dead, isn't he?"

He was saying too much. I lifted my hands, shook my head, flustered. "Wait, wait. Are you suggesting that Henry--that he--that he wanted Paolo dead? Is that what you're trying to say to me? That, that he was--jealous?"

"You were with him, right?"

"Who, Paolo?"

"One night, at the beach house?"

I got hastily to my feet, flushed with heat. "How--why do you care? What is with everyone asking about my private life--"

"Nothing's private for us," Lucas threw a stick onto the fire. Looked at the flames. "Everything's watched. You've never been alone. They're always looking."

"But--are you saying they--"

"Saw everything in that house? You should've known that."

"Ok, but I--"

"They made Henry watch all your interactions with him."

"What? How do you know that?"

"He told me."

"You're full of crap, Lucas. When would he have told you? You haven't seen each other in months."

He got to his feet, too. "How do you think we communicated, when we first met?"

"I--I assumed you just . . . talked to each other."

"They would've heard us."

"Then . . . how did you?"

He hesitated, as if speaking what he was thinking would make him sound stupid. But he caved and said, "Our thoughts. We found we could think things to each other, and as far as we could tell, they couldn't hear us."

"And . . . and you can still do it?"

"Only when we're within a certain distance of each other. I don't know exactly how far we are before we lose the ability. Maybe half a mile."

My thoughts raced. "So you're saying that after I thought you died, at some point, you were within half a mile of us, and Henry was able to tell you about . . . about Paolo?"

"Not then, no. He told me a few days ago."

That caught me. Gave me pause. "You--you're trying--you're lying to me."

"I have never lied to you."

I wanted to laugh at that, but this was far too serious. Almost in a whisper, I formulated my thoughts: "A few days ago . . . if that's true . . . you and Henry were in contact with each other before you took me from the mirror maze. He knew you were alive . . . did he know you were coming for us? Was he in on it? The hat--he dropped it on purpose, didn't he? To signal?"

Lucas didn't answer, but his expression told me everything I needed to know.

My hands went to my head; I felt as if I were suddenly in a vacuum, like in my memories, where everything would suddenly morph and move and vanish. Was everything Henry had said a lie? Not Henry. It couldn't be true. I'd been waiting so long for him, and I'd found him, and we were going to complete each other, and I was the only person for him and he was the only person for me and we'd said this to each other, and . . . and . . . he'd told me there'd be no more secrets . . . I stumbled forward and arms enclosed me, helped me down. Everything was spinning. I thought I'd throw up. I don't know how long I crouched there, my breath jagged, anger and heartbreak contending with each other, attempting to silence the rage in my head. I didn't know how to think straight, it was like my senses were on overload, and I had to shut my eyes to close out the world. I could take all of them lying to me—anyone—but not Henry. No, I determined, Lucas had to be lying. Or he'd misunderstood the situation. I could forgive Henry's feelings about Paolo, but if what Lucas said was true, how could I forgive him for letting Lucas and Amirah split us up? Why would he do that?

In a moment of sudden clarity, I realized that I was on the ground, hands clutching dirt and leaves, and that Lucas was next to me looking inscrutable, as always. And I felt suddenly foolish. So, so foolish.

I shoved him away and stood up, forcing myself not to shake. This wasn't supposed to be about me. I couldn't let other people dictate how I felt. I'd done it time and time again--fall for lies. I knew better. I knew not to trust anyone. But I'd thought at least Henry . . . at least he'd not let me down. And maybe he hadn't--that was what the little chime in the back of my mind rang. Maybe there was some rational explanation for all of this. Maybe he'd been trying to protect me, or maybe Lucas was messing with me. Whatever was going on, I'd see Henry again. He deserved a chance to explain, but that was all. I couldn't let my feelings for him cloud my ability to reason.

Brushing the debris off my clothing, not even looking at Lucas, I asked cooly, "What happened to you, after I thought you died?"

My turnaround must have shocked him. He didn't answer for a moment, and when he did, his voice was low and calm.

"They took me back, to the beach house."

"But that's where we were."

"Yes. I was . . . incapacitated."

"And since then? How'd you find Amirah?"

"They brought her to me."

I turned to him. He stood in the falling light, the fire catching his features in strange, eerie ways. "And they just let you go?"

"No. They made a deal with us."

"And what was that?" I felt fairly sure I knew, at this point, but I needed his confirmation.

Lucas opened his mouth slightly, as if to reply, but he seemed to catch himself.

"You promised," I reminded him. "You said ask you anything."

"I have to tell you, though--I've changed my mind. I don't want to do what they said, now."

Smirking, I laughed a little. "You going rogue, again?"

His mood became veiled, again, the concern I thought I'd sensed there imperceptible. Perhaps he didn't like my sarcasm.

Then he spoke, bluntly: "You and him for me and her."