Imposter (2 page)

Please Forgive Me

Mira

“Soc?” From my hospital room doorway, George Eliot, Socrates’s wife, stops as though frozen and studies me. “Oh, God.” Stark tragedy darkens her face. Even though I haven’t said a word, she can tell I’m not Socrates. She knows he’s gone. She wipes away the tears threatening to fall. “What happened? What went wrong?” she whispers, her voice so quiet that at first I’m afraid I must have imagined it.

Nerves clench my stomach in a tight, painful fist.
They kill failures, right?
At least that’s what Socrates said before the Exchange. They dissect them, take them apart, and try to figure out what went wrong.

I shift on the uncomfortable bed and clutch the light blue cotton blanket to my chest. “Eliot?” I bite my lip but don’t voice my fears. Here at the Smith, the former Smithsonian Institution that houses our nation’s capital, one never knows who is listening. I peer around her, but don’t see Socrates’s former canine sidekick. “Where’s Ben?”

“I sent him home with some of our luggage. There’s no reason for him to be here any longer,” she says, her voice flat.

Sorrow pinches the lines on either side of her mouth, deepening them into creases that make her appear far older than her middle-aged years. She shuts the door behind her and sits down on the chair next to my bed.

I flatten my hands on the thin sheet, smoothing it out. An apology perches on the tip of my tongue, but I can’t say anything to make it better. Her husband of two hundred years is dead. There isn’t anything I can say to comfort her.

From her pocket, she pulls a small, folded piece of paper, opens it, and studies it as if it holds the most important secret in the world. 

Why doesn’t she say anything?
I ball up the blanket in my lap.

A tear tracks down her face as she stares at the note. “It all makes sense now.”

My attention piqued, I point at the piece of paper. “What’s that?”

Eliot jumps, startled. “It’s a note
you
wrote. Don’t you remember?
You
slipped it into my pocket before the Exchange.” She emphasizes the word “you” as she peers around the room in an exaggerated fashion, reminding me that we may have listeners.

The wounds from the probes start throbbing, and my eyes burn. I take a deep breath. I have to be strong now. Socrates would want that. “I’m sorry. I can’t believe I forgot that I wrote you a note. Things are fuzzy right now.”

She pats my knee. “I’m not surprised. The time immediately following an Exchange can be jarring. Don’t worry, my love, your memories will come back to you in time.” She takes a shaky breath and lets it out, the pain deeply engraved on her face.

“What does it say?”

The sadness in her expression makes me want to suck the words back in as soon as they leave my mouth. I have no right to ask. It’s a private message for her from Socrates. Maybe it’s something they do every time one of them has the procedure, just in case something goes horribly wrong. Like me. I gulp. 

She drags her gaze from the little scrap of paper and a sharp laugh escapes her. “Nothing, really.” She hands me the piece of paper. “Maybe that’s why it’s so important. It’s what you didn’t say.”

I carefully pluck the note from her fingers and hold it up to decipher the strange, scribbly handwriting.

Please forgive me.

I turn the paper over. The other side is blank. “That’s it?” Was Socrates apologizing for going through with the Exchange? Or was this his plan all along?

Eliot holds out her hand, and I give her back the note. She studies it once more and chuckles, an empty, strangled sound that seems far more broken than she intended. “That’s it. Just those three simple words.”

The words bubble up before I can stop them. “What happened? During the Exchange, I thought…”

Eliot’s expression grows stern, and I snap my mouth shut. “I know this has been a rough transition for you,
Socrates
…” She winces as she says his name. “But you need to remember where you are and more importantly, you need to remember fully
who
you are. I know it’s difficult, but you need to try.”

The blood drains from my face as the enormity of her words strike me. She’s right. It’s not only my life at stake if I screw this up. I take a deep, fortifying breath. “I’m sorry. You’re absolutely correct.” I try to think of what Socrates might say. “I think the doctors were right, and I waited too long this time. I… I was so sick. I should have had the procedure sooner.”

A tight smile stretches Eliot’s lips, barely making the ends twitch. “That’s probably it. Most of us don’t wait nearly as long as you did.” She inhales slowly. “You always did grow too attached to your physical form. Maybe next time…”

I shake my head without thinking it through first.
Did she really just say what I think she said?
The thought makes me sick even though I know she’s right yet again. As Socrates, I could now live forever, if I wanted to. “There won’t be a next time.”

She tips her head toward me, accepting this decision because it is, after all, the same one she made. “We’ll talk about this later. We have more pressing concerns right now.”

“Like what?”

Eliot tucks the note back in her pocket before meeting my gaze. “Soon the physicians will be in to conduct your formal assessment and make sure you are, in fact, Socrates.”

It takes a minute for the words to sink in. As soon as they do, bile rises up in my throat, and I feel as though I’m going to throw up. I can’t do this. If Eliot knew the second she walked in the door, the doctors will surely, as well. It might take them a little while longer, but they’ll figure out I’m not Socrates.

Eliot scrubs her face with her palms. “It’s not like they can confirm you’re Socrates with a DNA test. The best they can do is to ask you questions about your past so specific that only you know the details.” The pain battles with resolution on her face.

I’m done for. There’s absolutely no hope I can pull this off. “Questions about my past,” I murmur. I remember Socrates handing me books to read on his past and his accomplishments before the Exchange.
Was that why he gave me those books, so I would pass this test?

Someone knocks on the door. My back stiffens, and somehow, deep inside, I know it’s Will. It’s almost instinct, as if our souls recognize each other when nearby. When I finally see him, my heart beats double time, and my hands sweat. A broad smile stretches across my face. I can’t wait to see his reaction when he sees I’m alive. He’ll smile, take me in his arms, and hold me so tightly he’ll never let me go. His lips will touch mine softly at first, then harder, more desperate, letting go all of his worry and pain now that I’m safe. But that doesn’t happen. He slips inside the room and closes the door behind him. He doesn’t take me in his arms or gaze lovingly at me, and his lips certainly don’t come anywhere near mine.

No. He stands stiffly against the wall, shoulders tense, his jaw firmly set, and his eyes as dark as stones at the bottom of the stream outside the farm. My smile dies quickly. He doesn’t know it’s me. He thinks I’m Socrates.

Without meaning to, I find myself reaching for him, but stop. His gaze meets mine, and for a second, just one second, it’s as if I can see inside his head. Pain, rage, betrayal, and agony slice through me. His words before the Exchange drift into my head.

“I can’t just… I can’t just sit here and watch them murder you.”

“I’m sorry, but there’s nothing you can do. Except leave.”

He shakes his head vehemently. “Not a chance. I’m not going anywhere.”

“Good morning.” Will’s voice, the real one, not the ghost in my head, is harsh and his tone is forced.

A sob rises in my throat. If I concentrate hard enough, I can still feel his touch on my face, his kiss, and hear him tell me he loves me. Now he’s a stranger. Eliot’s stern glare reminds me of my new identity.

“Is there anything I can assist you with?” Will asks.

Eliot squeezes my hands. “Not at this point in time, thank you. We’ll be leaving for our home in Santa Fe as soon as Socrates passes his physical and mental evaluations.” No expression resides on her face. How can she hide it so well? She was married to Socrates for hundreds of years. She must miss him like crazy. The grief must be so ragged and raw she can barely keep herself together. I don’t think I could handle it if I were in her place. I’d be a puddle on the floor.

“Do you need any help packing?” Even though Will’s face shows no identifiable emotion, I swear I see scorn in his eyes. Is it because we’re holding hands when not that long ago I was holding him? It can’t be because Socrates was male and now he’s female. Firsts switch genders all the time. Eliot sports the trim beard and masculine physique of her latest Second, yet she’s still considered Socrates’s wife.

Eliot shakes her head. “No, but as you will be accompanying us, you need to gather your necessities.”

Dual flashes of shock and panic flit across his face. He wasn’t expecting that. “I’m going with you?” Will wipes his hands on the front of his pants. “I have duties here. There is another Exchange coming up, and it’s my job to care for the Firsts and Seconds.”

Eliot smiles warmly at him. “Don’t worry about it. I already made arrangements with your supervisor for you to come with us to Santa Fe. One of the trainees will handle it.”

“But ma’am, this is highly unusual. I’ve never had to go anywhere with a First.” His eyes meet mine quickly before darting away. “After the Exchange, my job is done. I’ve never —”

“This matter is not up for discussion.”

Will’s lips thin the moment he realizes he doesn’t have a choice. “Yes, ma’am.” His words are clipped, as if he’s holding all of his anger inside. “I will be ready whenever you are.”

Unable to look at him any longer, I focus on my hands, and for a second, they blur into another set. My fingers become old and wrinkled, creased and spotted, shaking and unstable. Socrates’s hands.
What happened, Socrates? I’m not supposed to be here, you are. I don’t know if I can do this without you.

Will’s wrist com beeps. When he glances at it, relief fills his gaze at the distraction. I’m sure he’ll be glad to leave. A thick, wrenching pain that’s growing more and more familiar grips my chest. “I love
you” perches at the tip of my tongue but I don’t give it voice.

“Is there anything more I can do for you?”

Eliot shakes her head. “Not at this point in time, thank you. I will send word to your supervisor when we’re cleared to leave.”

“As you wish, ma’am.” Will turns on his heels and leaves the room, clicking the door shut behind him.

After a few seconds pass, Eliot puts a finger to her lips, pulls out a small, silver object, and sets it on the table. I open my mouth to ask her what it is, but she shakes her head a fraction of an inch to either side.
Not right now.
She presses a button on the side and a low humming fills the room around us.

“Okay, it’s safe now.”

“What’s that?” I point at the strange device.

“It’s an EG. The simple ones block sound from anyone listening in. To the casual observer, all noise will be jumbled and quieter. Basically, whoever’s monitoring us won’t be able to make out what we’re talking about.” She smirks as my jaw drops.

“And they just give those out?”

“No, silly girl. But being a First has some perks. Soc never liked them much, said he kept losing them…” Her voice trails off until she shakes herself out of her memories. “Okay. Let’s go over some of the basic facts of your life so you don’t fail your assessment.”

A wide, relieved grin spreads across my face. “How much time do we have? This might take a while.”

The Only One

Will

My tiny, drab apartment is a far cry from Socrates’s hospital room, but right now, there’s nowhere I’d rather go to escape from the world. The worn, scarred carpeting and walls blur as I stumble through the front door and slam it behind me. Once the door’s closed, I lean up against it, glad the simple meal alert had given me an excuse to leave the First’s room.

What the hell was Eliot thinking? How can she ask me to go with them?
She’s crazy. Anyone who switches bodies that often must have a few screws loose, which brings me back to Socrates and what he did to Mira.

I draw in a ragged breath. My chest aches, and I rub it, but the pain doesn’t go away. I never should have taken this assignment. I wanted to help the Lifers, but this? It’s too much.

I stalk to the bathroom, and the lights embedded in the ceiling flicker on. The haggard man in the mirror grimaces. It’s not a pleasant sight. Dark circles surround my eyes, and even my skin appears wan and exhausted.

Waving my hands in the sink starts the water, and at my command, it quickly becomes ice cold. Splashing it on my face doesn’t wake me up, but nothing will. Mira is still dead, and now I have to follow her murderer around the country. I strip off my shirt, ball it up, and chuck it on the floor.

Someone knocks delicately on the doorframe behind me, and I spin around.
Idiot, you should have checked to make sure you were alone. You can’t let your guard down like this.

Evie leans against the doorway, her hands resting on her ample stomach. She wears a high-waisted black dress and her long dark hair cascades down her back.

I think she might actually be happy to see me for once, but then she purses her lips, annoyed. “Where have you been? I didn’t think you were ever coming home.” She stalks into the bedroom and snaps her fingers to activate the light. 

“Since when do I have to tell you where I’ve been? We’re not married yet. Besides, you don’t even live here. You have your own apartment.” I wince at my biting tone.

“That doesn’t mean I don’t want to see you.”

I clench my hands on the edge of counter. “Did you find a way to get out of marrying me? I heard you were asking around.”

Her eyes well up with tears. “Of course not. You know the rules as well as I do. If a girl gets pregnant, you have to get married. You don’t have a choice any longer.”

“If it’s even mine.”

Her mouth opens in a perfect O of shock. “Of course she is. Stop calling her an it.” She places her hands protectively on her stomach. “I know you don’t want to marry me, either, but eventually you’re going to have to accept it.”

“I will as soon as you stop trying to sleep your way out of the Smith.”

Evie’s bottom lip trembles, and she presses her hands on her stomach. “You’re a bastard, Will. You know that?”

Regret strikes me hard, like a fist to the gut. I pinch the bridge of my nose and take a deep breath. “I’m sorry. That was uncalled for. It’s been a rough couple of days, not that that’s any excuse. I’m afraid I’m pretty much useless right now.”

“You don’t need to take it out on me, you know.” She splays her hands on her stomach and scowls down at it, as if it’s her unborn child’s fault. “This wasn’t in my plans, either.” Her gaze finds mine through the soft tendrils of hair surrounding her face. “What’s wrong? I can tell something’s bothering you.”

“Socrates’s Exchange was today,” I snap. “I promised Mira I would be there so I watched.” At her wounded expression, I close my eyes and count to ten. “Then I found out George Eliot wants me to leave with them tomorrow to go back to Santa Fe.”

“You’re leaving me?” she squeaks. “You can’t do that.”

I curl my lip. “I don’t have a choice.”

“Did you even try to say no?” She rubs her stomach.

“Of course I did! It’s not like I had any choice, though.”

Pain contorts her face, pinching her perfectly smooth features. She plants her fists on her hips. “Doesn’t that
First
know you’re engaged and that I’m pregnant? I’m sure even he wouldn’t ask you to leave if he knew.”

I shrug. “I don’t know. Does it matter? It’s not like we all sit down to brunch and discuss our days together.” I turn away from her and walk over to the built-in closet next to the bed.

Evie returns to the bed and plops down on it. “I’m not lying when I said I wanted to spend time with you yesterday. I don’t always have to have an ulterior motive, you know. Maybe I just miss you.”

I laugh, the empty sound echoing through the room. “Right. Can we not get into this right now?”

“Mira.” She sneers when she says the name. “It’s still all about her, isn’t it?”

The hairs on the back of my neck bristle. I ball my hands around the tunic I’m holding and take a deep, calming breath.
Don’t let her get to you, Will.

When I don’t respond, her face twists in anger. “What was it you saw in her, anyway? She wasn’t even pretty. She was too short, stick thin, no figure at all, and her hair was awful.”

“Leave her out of it,” I growl.

“Why?” She swings her legs back and forth. “What made her so special? You’ve never gotten this attached to any of the others before.”

Attached? Is that what she calls it?
My fist hits the wall before I even think the action through. Pain radiates from my knuckles, but I don’t care. Even that feels better than watching Mira die every time I close my eyes.

“It’s not like you loved her. She was just an assignment.” At my silence, she tilts her head to the side, studying me. “Wait a second. You did have feelings for her, didn’t you?”

“Yeah, well, it surprised me, too.”

“I thought she was just another Second?”

“She was supposed to be.” My voice trails off, and I shrug. My job should’ve been over after the Exchange, too.

Mira takes a deep breath, “Can I ask you something?”

“Anything.”

“Will you help Socrates after… after it’s done?”

Evie walks up to me and takes my hands in hers. “I think we should try to move on from the past. I’m sorry for all the mistakes I’ve made, but it’s over now. I can’t change what I did, but I can try to be better in the future. I do care about you, and I think you care about me, too.”

I try to relax, but it feels wrong. It should be Mira standing before me. Mira’s hands holding me, her lips pressing into mine. “I’m sorry, I can’t do this.” I step away from her.

Evie tries to put her hands around me again and draw me closer. Her eyes beg me to hold her, and her bottom lip trembles in the dim light.

I feel myself weaken and gently remove her arms before I cave in. “We need to stop.”

“I need you, Will.” Her bottom lip trembles. “Please don’t leave me.”

The bitterness rises up in me again. I squash it down before I say something I know I’ll regret. “I don’t have a choice. I have to go.”

“But why you?” she whines. “Are you sure you can’t get out of it? They need you here, too.”

“George Eliot already made the arrangements with my supervisor. Victor will be taking over when Van Gogh gets here next week.”

She grabs my hands and squeezes them. “I bet I could ask my dad to get you out of it. Maybe if he explains the situation, they’ll…”

I sigh. “Look, I know it’s not what we planned, but I’m sure it’ll only be for a few days until Socrates gives his speech.” I flash a wan attempt at a grin. “Then I’ll be home, I promise. After this, I won’t leave again before the baby comes.”

She huffs and puts her hands on her hips. “Maybe I could talk to Socrates.” She bats her eyelashes at me. “I usually get what I want.”

“No!” I cringe inwardly at the harshness of my voice. “Don’t. It’s already been decided.”

She studies my face, shrewdly. Does she see what I so desperately try to keep hidden? “You want to go, don’t you?”

“Of course not. I’d much rather stay here.” Frustrated, I scrub the top of my head with one hand.

Evie’s gaze searches mine, focusing so intently I can’t break the connection. After a few seconds, she sighs. “You had to have known it could never work out between you. She was raised to be Socrates’s Second.”

“It doesn’t matter now, does it?”

She plants her hands on her hips. “She chose death over you. That’s how much she cared about your love.”

I flinch, as if her words had actual clout. The tension returns as swiftly as it drained. “Dammit, Evie.” I take her shoulders in my hands and push her away from me. “Leave Mira out of this. You’re not perfect, either.”

She sniffs, her head tilted in a superior air. “That’s different.”

“Right.”

“Sometimes I hate you. You know that, right?”

I smile wryly and lead her to the door. “You’re not the only one.”