Sleeping like a peaceful child.

Chapter 68

"You're up early."

"So are you," Jenna whispers. She's curled up on a wicker couch on the porch with a steaming mug of coffee cupped in her hands.

I sit down next to her. "I wanted to be up when Kara woke."

"Me too."

"Any sign of her yet?"

She shakes her head. "Probably not for a few more hours." She stares out at the pond, white mist clinging to its surface. The worry of last night still hasn't left her face.

"She is going to be all right, isn't she?"

"I told you, her wounds are only superficial."

I work to keep my voice low so I won't wake the others, but it is annoying, the way she keeps phrasing it. "Why do you keep saying only, like that's something bad?"

She breaks her stare from the pond and looks at me. "I'm sorry. I just thought you should know."

She looks back at the pond and sips her coffee, her eyes squinting, staring out like she is watching something, but there are only patches of dissolving fog skimming the surface. Is she nervous? She and Kara haven't had a real chance to talk yet. There's a lot that still needs to be said. Will Jenna be able to explain to Kara, the way she did to me? Will Kara even listen?

"There's coffee on the counter," she says without looking at me.

She knows I don't drink coffee. I told her on my first day here. "Nervous?"

She turns. The rims of her eyes are red. "She was my friend, Locke." She looks back out, staring at the pond that's as still as glass. "There are all kinds of friends you make in life. Allys is very dear to me, more like family. But there's something different about someone who spreads their wings with you. That's what we did, didn't we?"

She looks at me like my answer carries all the weight of the world.

"Yes, we did," I say. What's wrong with her? The hollowness in my stomach rises to my chest.

"Even if it turns out badly, those kinds of friends never leave your heart. Never."

"That's right," I answer. It's the first time I've seen her like this, almost like she's paralyzed. She's been so strong since I've been here--stronger than me--but now she looks so weak. I reach across and squeeze her hand.

She turns to look at me with a faint hesitant smile. "You don't like coffee. I know. I was distracted."

I lean forward to stand. "Maybe I should have some coffee--"

"I didn't know how else to say it. That's why I said only superficial, Locke."

I sit back down.

"All of her scratches, gashes--everything--they were within reach of her own hand. And the angle--"

"Are you trying to say--"

"They were self-inflicted."

I jump up and face her. "That's crazy. It has to be a coincidence. She--"

"Locke, that isn't what has me worried. There's more." She sets her mug aside and reaches out for my hand, trying to pull me down next to her, but I resist. "It was her eyes, Locke. I've seen eyes like that before."

Eyes? What is she talking about? I grab her arm and pull her off the couch and down the porch steps away from the house.

"Locke! Stop! What are--"

But I don't stop, not until we are both breathless and at the edge of the pond.

"Now. Say it here. Where no one can hear. Get it out and then let's forget it."

"I can't forget, Locke. I've seen that look in a face before. I've seen so many over the years. The first one was a boy named Dane. I was warned that he was missing something. He was. I still don't know what the it is, but it's the difference between emptiness and connection. And it's a dangerous thing not to have. Dane was eventually institutionalized after killing three people--"

"One psycho guy and you're lumping Kara with him?"

"I told you, there've been others. I saw Kara look at you. There was nothing in her face I could read. Her eyes were empty."

I shake my head. This is crazy. A look in the eyes?

"She was there for me, Jenna. For two hundred and sixty years, when the rest of the world abandoned me, she was there. I wouldn't call that empty!"

"How? Exactly how was she there for you, Locke?"

I look down at my feet. Something. I shift from one foot to the other. My eyes sting, and I turn around so I'm looking out at the pond. Something about her isn't right, Locke. Miesha said it long before Jenna did. I felt it myself. From the beginning, I knew she had changed. Sometimes I'm even afraid of her, but I always thought if I loved her enough I could make up for everything I had done, everything the world had done to us. But she's still not the same Kara. At least not yet, but even that doesn't mean she's empty, whatever that's supposed to mean. She was there for me. Always there. That's something. I owe her so much. Kara has to be all right, because if she isn't, maybe I'm not either.

"She made me know that I still existed," I whisper. I swallow away the stab in my throat. "It's only eyes, Jenna. They aren't even hers. Gatsbro made them for her. He made mine. How can you judge someone by something made in a lab?" I turn around to look at her. "She's been through hell, Jenna. So have I. Do my eyes frighten you?"

She shakes her head.

"Isn't it possible that you're wrong? You only saw her awake for an hour at the most."