There is no us

Forgiveness

Gunnar didn’t react at first.

For a long moment, he just stared at her, his expression unreadable.

Then, finally, a slow smirk tugged at his lips.

“Well, well,” he said, tilting his head. “Jackie, huh?”

She clenched her jaw.

Hearing her name on his lips—after all this time, after all the ways she had avoided saying it—felt strangely vulnerable. Like she’d just handed him a piece of herself she couldn’t take back.

“Yeah,” she muttered.

He let the name settle between them, watching her closely. Then, with a low chuckle, he said, “Took you long enough.”

Alex-no, Jackie rolled her eyes. “You’re annoying.”

“Maybe.” He shoved his hands into his pockets. “But I think you like it.”

She scoffed, crossing her arms. “Not even a little bit.”

Gunnar just grinned.

For the first time in days, she felt… lighter.

Like some invisible weight had lifted off her shoulders.

It was strange. She’d spent so much time keeping her name to herself, making sure no one here knew who she was. But now that it was out there, now that she’d said it…

Maybe it wasn’t the worst thing in the world.

But that didn’t mean she was going to start trusting him. Or the rebellion.

Not yet.

“So?” he said, watching her expectantly. “What now, Jackie?”

She hesitated.

What now?

She still hadn’t decided if she was going to stay or try to escape again.

But after the last attempt—after being locked up, ignored, and outcasted—she knew one thing for sure:

If she was going to survive here, she couldn’t be alone.

And Gunnar?

As much as he annoyed her…

He was the closest thing she had to an ally.

“I don’t know yet,” she admitted. “But I do know one thing.”

Gunnar raised a brow. “Yeah?”

Jackie smirked. “If you keep smirking at me like that, I might have to punch you.”

Gunnar laughed. A real laugh this time, not just the amused chuckle he always gave her.

“Noted,” he said.

And for the first time since she’d arrived at the rebellion…

She didn’t feel so alone.

---

The camp was quiet that night, the usual sounds of the rebels carrying out their tasks fading into the distance. Jackie lay on her cot in the tent, staring at the ceiling, the rustle of the canvas overhead the only sound that accompanied her thoughts. She hadn’t been able to shake the tension that had settled over her ever since her name slipped out.

"Jackie."

It was a name she had never wanted anyone to know. And yet, here she was—guilty of giving it up without a fight. The very thing she had kept hidden for so long. She felt vulnerable in a way she hadn’t before. As if the small part of her that had always been guarded had somehow slipped away.

She had to focus. Keep her distance. She had to escape.

But something gnawed at her—something that she hadn’t quite put into words. The more she thought about it, the more she realized how difficult it was going to be to leave now. Not just because of her injuries, but because of the people here. They weren’t just rebels. They were people who, in a twisted way, understood her.

But that didn’t change the fact that she didn’t belong here. She had her own mission. She had to keep moving.

The tent flap stirred suddenly, and Jackie tensed, her hand instinctively moving to where her knife rested under her pillow. But it wasn’t a guard. It was Gunnar.

“Can’t sleep?” His voice was low, almost a whisper, though it carried the weight of someone who was too used to the quiet of the night.

Jackie didn’t move. She didn’t trust herself to speak, not when she wasn’t sure of what she wanted.

He stepped into the tent, the dim light from the fire outside casting a soft glow on his features. There was something about the way he carried himself that made Jackie instinctively watch him. He wasn’t like the others. His calmness, the way he moved with purpose, it unsettled her in the best way.

He stood near her cot for a moment, silent, his eyes scanning her, then he sat down beside her, still keeping a respectful distance.

“Can’t sleep,” Jackie said flatly, though there was a bit of vulnerability in her tone that she couldn’t hide. She wasn’t sure why she said it. She wasn’t sure if she even wanted him to know.

Gunnar leaned back slightly, stretching his legs out in front of him. “It happens. Some people are night owls.” His tone was almost casual, but there was a sense of understanding in it that Jackie couldn’t quite place.

“So, what now?” she asked, trying to steer the conversation in a direction that was familiar. A direction where she didn’t feel so exposed.

“Now? I could ask you how you’re feeling,” Gunnar said, his voice serious. “I could ask if you’re ready to leave or stay. But I’m guessing you’ve got other plans.”

Jackie didn’t answer right away, looking at the ground instead. She felt his gaze on her, but she didn’t want to face him. Not yet. She wasn’t ready to talk about what had been plaguing her for days.

Finally, she muttered, “I’m not staying.”

Gunnar didn’t respond right away. Instead, he seemed to be waiting for her to elaborate, to say more, but she didn’t. She was stubborn like that.

“So, you’ll just leave?” he asked, voice laced with disbelief. “Even after everything?”

Jackie’s eyes flicked to his face, her jaw tightening. “It’s none of your business,” she snapped, surprising even herself. It wasn’t like her to snap at anyone, let alone someone who had helped her. But in this moment, it was all too much. Too much vulnerability, too many questions, too many things she didn’t know the answers to.

Gunnar seemed unphased. He just sat there, observing her, his lips curling into a small smile. It was the first time Jackie saw a hint of humor in his eyes since they met.

“You know,” he said casually, “there are a lot of people here who’ve gone through a lot worse than you. They don’t just leave.”

Jackie looked at him sharply, but he didn’t flinch.

“What are you trying to say?” she asked, her voice quieter this time.

“I’m saying you’ve got more than you think here,” Gunnar said. “People who would protect you. And if you stay…” He paused, letting the words hang in the air. “You won’t be alone.”

Jackie looked away, her chest tightening. She didn’t want to admit that part of her felt a pull to stay, to accept the protection, the sense of belonging. But that part was still buried beneath the layers of distrust and anger.

“I can’t stay,” she said, her voice barely above a whisper.

Gunnar was quiet for a long moment, and Jackie could almost hear him thinking. Then, with a slight sigh, he stood up. “I’m not going to force you to stay. But I’m not going to let you leave if it’s just to throw yourself back into whatever mess you came from. You’re safer here.”

Jackie didn’t respond. She didn’t want to admit he was right, that the world outside this camp was a constant danger she’d spent years evading. But that didn’t mean she could stay. She wasn’t like them.

The next few days passed slowly, the weight of the decision pressing on Jackie more than she liked. She stayed in the tent mostly, trying to heal and figure out what to do next. But every time she thought about leaving, the thought of Gunnar’s words echoed in her mind.

“You’re safer here.”

She wasn’t sure if it was the camp itself or Gunnar’s steady presence that made it feel that way.

It was late one afternoon when Jackie finally decided to venture out. She walked through the camp, avoiding most of the other rebels. They were all busy with their usual tasks, but there was a growing sense of camaraderie that she couldn’t ignore.

It was as if everyone was holding onto the same fragile hope, hoping that they could change something, hoping they could fight for something bigger than themselves. She didn’t know if she wanted to be a part of that, but she couldn’t deny the lure of it.

Jackie found herself at the edge of the camp, where the trees started to thicken and the sound of the world outside seemed to fade. Her fingers brushed the rough bark of a tree, and she closed her eyes for a moment.

Just as she was about to take a step into the forest, a voice interrupted her.

“Going somewhere?”

Jackie froze, her heart skipping a beat.

She turned slowly, her eyes meeting Gunnar’s. He stood just outside the line of trees, his posture casual, but his eyes were watching her intently.

“I was just… getting air,” Jackie muttered, her voice sharp.

Gunnar grinned, his usual smirk appearing. “Sure.”

She didn’t respond.

He took a step toward her. “You know,” he said slowly, “you can’t keep running forever.”

Jackie’s heart hammered in her chest. She wasn’t sure why she felt so cornered, but the truth of his words hit her harder than she expected. “I’m not running,” she said, her voice cold.

“Then what are you doing?” he asked, still smirking.

Jackie didn’t know how to answer him. Instead, she turned away and walked deeper into the trees, her footsteps muffled by the leaves. She didn’t look back.

But part of her wanted to.