a/n: I really bet you weren't expecting this  to update anytime soon

The blood in his mouth was warm and tasted like metal. Xavier rolled to the side, spitting it from between his teeth until another blow was knocked to his ribs. He was coughing for air and desperate for a breath but the ceiling continued to crash upon him. He wasn't sure what comment had set the guard off, whether he'd said anything or was it just a roll of his eyes.

"Remember who you work for." The man stepped back, still towering over him as he was knocked to the ground. "You ain't got power here. Now get the hell back to work."

No words came to his mind but he couldn't have responded if he wanted to. His lungs were weak, his head spinning from the beating. The man had walked away but he was still spitting onto the ground, the cold the only thing he was certain was real.

"Hey, buddy," he heard a voice say. The sound was distant but he could make out Marko's face above him. "You gotta get up, okay?"

"It's bad," he whispered. He wasn't even sure of the words he said—what was bad? The pain in his ribs was bad, the spattered blood on the linoleum floor was bad, the ringing in his ears was bad, the way he felt his stomach churning was bad, the way the pressure behind his eyes urged him to cry was bad. It wasn't a strong enough word.

"They knocked you down but you aren't gonna stay there," Marko said. His words were quiet, quiet enough that only Xavier could hear. At least, that was what he thought. The ringing was so loud it might as well have muted everything around him."You're tougher than that, you gotta get up. We don't let them knock us down."

"Prisoner, let him be!" the loud voice pounded—the guard who had beat him. He yanked Marko by the back of his shirt, forcing him away. Marko was a skinny boy, Xavier wasn't quite sure how he'd survived. The guard returned to him on the ground. He could see the hard toe of his boot approaching. "Now get your disrespectful ass back to work."

He slowly pushed himself onto his knees, releasing a sharp exhale as he moved. He reached onto the metal table for support as he stood. The world spun around him as visions of black closed in on his surroundings and the metal inside of him crumbled, like he had gone weak. A piece of him was certain he'd never been weak before.

Marko had his head down at the table perpendicular to his. They trusted him more—he was cutting meat. He had a knife. Xavier's eyes narrowed on the blade, the way he pressed his finger against the handle. One quick move and he could slash the guard's throat.

"Focus," Marko mouthed. He must have felt him staring. For all he talked about unity, about survival, Xavier couldn't shake the sound of him crying in the cell next door. Marko talked about the long game, yet Xavier wasn't sure there was any plan in place.

Time passed slowly, although he wasn't sure what time was passing at all. It felt slow, to say the least. His ribs ached and his head throbbed and every breath seemed to take an eternity. He lost all sense of focus outside the monotony—scoop the food onto the guards' trays. Dinnertime must be soon.

Someone came up behind him, he didn't see who. "Bring your hand down," she whispered. He turned around to see Quinn, the third kid from the forest who'd found herself trapped. She'd hardly spoken to him—hardly spoke to anyone during the day. He knew she was close with Marko but managed to stay nearly invisible. He felt her press a small parcel into his fist. "Get it done before the sirens."

Quinn was already halfway across the kitchen before he could ask another question, but slowly unveiled his fist beneath the counter and saw the familiar dark green bag, the top tied shut by a piece of twine. Nightshade.

He poured the berries into his fist, closing it before lifting it above the table. The guards were preoccupied with Quinn—berating her on who had seen her on her daily drug run. So long as he was quiet they paid him no attention. He squeezed the berries over the stew he ladled out.

The pain in his head and in his chest turned to fire, to power, to poison.

~*~*~*~*~*~

Now more than ever, Terra hated feeling powerless. Eliza, Ronan, and Bianca had left that morning with that spy—Terra was always forgetting her name. Athena, was it? She was never one to volunteer for danger out in the woods but maybe she should have been. Fifty years ago or longer she'd had no problem volunteering to save the human race. If she'd been more willing to look danger in the eyes then maybe Jamie wouldn't be dead. Her brother wouldn't be dead.

It was a funny thing to get her memories back. Sometimes they made everything make sense—why she'd felt such a strong connection with Jamie, why she was always warm to Kennedy who'd been her friend in training, why Wren had always acted so bitter. Yet other times they didn't make sense at all. The girl in her memories was so young she couldn't recognize her. The Terra before thought being a Savior would be exciting, an adventure. She'd never felt fear.

They sat in the dining hall at O'Hara—a large room with glass windows that overlooked the sod planted on what used to be a barren tarmac. Terra, Kennedy, and Casper. Their numbers had felt small since they arrived at the airport. With their memories returned, much of the group had scattered. They found relatives who had survived or partnered with their friends to try and carve out a future. Terra knew it was time they did that as well, but she couldn't even think about the future until she knew the others were back. Ronan, Bianca, Eliza, and Xavier. They all had to survive.

"I'm sure they'll be fine," Casper assured her as she stared absentmindedly towards the windows. "Eliza's smarter than anyone and Ronan's a good shooter."

"Not the best shooter," she murmured. "We could have used that girl Greer Cane on this one."

The group went silent, nobody spoke until she turned towards the boys. Kennedy frowned, "Who did you just say?"

"Greer Cane," she repeated. "She was a girl we trained with, crazy good at everything. Shit, her dad was President Cane, wasn't he? Do you guys remember her?"

Their memories never rolled through in a linear fashion. Some random trigger and they would learn something new about themselves, about their pasts. Like Greer Cane. Kennedy frowned. "What happened to her? She was never with us."

"She woke up before us," said Casper, "Or she never went to sleep. Felix and I found four empty pods with names that never woke with us, Greer was one."

"What were the other names?"

"Lane—Lane Phoenix, isn't it? And then Darwin and Jace," he said. "I remember Jace, he was pompous, close with Ronan in training."

"Darwin Killian?" asked Kennedy. "Weren't all their parents in government?"

"So maybe they woke their kids up during the Exodus," Terra said. "They might be here. There might be census information—" This wasn't helpful and she knew it but she couldn't sit still while the others' lives were on the line and there was nothing she could do. She knew there was nothing she could do but still she had to pretend.

On their way out of the dining hall, they passed Felix and Wren who were just entering. "We have a lead on the missing pods!" Casper called, and Felix didn't hesitate before grabbing Wren's wrist and following them out. A part of Terra's heart lifted knowing Wren was with them. The issues in their past could be blamed on a child she was certain she wasn't any longer. In the past, Jamie was the closest thing to glue holding their family together. Now there was no glue yet she still wanted to mend the wounds she'd caused.

"What do you mean you have a lead?" he asked. "Do you remember the names? I don't remember them, hate to say it." There was a library in the compound and they didn't stop until they made it there, pulled up around a computer.

"Here's the real test," Casper mumbled, "Do we remember how to use technology?" Whether they knew how or not, their skills proved woefully outdated. Fifty years had changed a lot.

"Can I help you kids?" an older man in a tweed vest approached them, leaning over a cane. "Jonathan Christopher, head librarian."

Terra's instinct taught her now to never trust, but Felix was more naive than that. Naive, and fast. "That would be great, actually!" he exclaimed. "We're trying to find old census records for a research project."

"It's for school," Wren added. There'd been so much about Wren's inimitable ability to transform, to play innocent. This was the first time Terra had seen it since they'd woken up underground. They'd all been right—in just three words the quiet darkness that resided inside her had disappeared. In just three words she sounded like a kid.

"I'm sure that's just how you're looking to spend your Saturday night," he chuckled, but leaned in towards the computer and quickly pulled up a white screen to search for any given name. "I hope you find what you're looking for." They began to search the names.

Darwin Killian. Deceased October 11, 2130.

"2130," Kennedy muttered. "These records date back to the bunker."

"We were already asleep by then," said Terra. "Search the others."

Jace Cabener. Deceased October 11, 2130.

The pit grew in all their stomachs.

Lane Phoenix. Deceased October 11, 2130.

Greer Cane. Deceased October 11, 2130.

"It must have been when Maveck was rising to power," said Terra. "He was killing his political opponents' kids, the people who might have the power to stop him if they woke up."

"Eliza said that they knew someone knew information that was potentially dangerous, that's why they wiped our memories," said Felix, and the pieces of the puzzle slowly started to click into place. "That was me, wasn't it? My dad led the Second Exodus, he left the coordinates to here, the code on the gate. Maveck didn't want to let us out."

They were quiet for a moment as the ugly truth settled in the air. Quiet, until Wren spoke. "How do you know it was Maveck?"

"Because Wrigley is evil, they stole our friends—"

"Right before we went to sleep, President Cane had a second child, remember?" she said. "His name was Samuel, Samuel Cane. He's Beth Greenspire's assistant. He's here."

"Maybe he survived," Casper shrugged.

"If the Second Exodus was really such a run in the night, how does O'Hara have computer records from the bunker?"

Another silence hung heavy in the air, settling amongst the dust on shelves of books that had never been touched. Surely there was an explanation, an answer, a hero and a villain and a line so clear they could make no mistake on which side they tread. Surely they were safe now—they had to be.

"It's just past seven," said Kennedy. "Eliza should have the planes down by now." 

a/n

HAHAHA it's been a nice year... figured that since I was so close to the end anyways it might be nice to just check this one off the list.

to be honest I didn't really reread any of it besides like the two chapters prior so if my writing style has changed, that's called taking a year break on a story. Also I apologize if any details contradict things that have earlier been established—feel free to let me know if there are any inconsistencies!