After the first attempt, Niska wanted to send them away. Hide them on the coast somewhere, just ’til she could be sure the cell had been eliminated. Mattie was torn: she wouldn’t worry any less in a strange place, she said, she’d just be away from the people she loved, and that wouldn’t be better.
The second time an intruder broke into the house, Mattie had packed all their belongings before dawn, pausing only to brain the would-be abductor with the crowbar she’d stowed under the bed, ostensibly to placate Niska.
“You win,” she’d said, when Niska had answered on the second ring. “We’ll go.”
To her credit, Niska hadn’t wasted a second on smugness or condescension. She was outside the house within minutes, prepared for the longest drive of Mattie’s life.
Almost three months ago, now. Mattie, living under a false name when any is asked of her, sports a far shorter haircut, several shades darker, and dresses Amelia in green and blue when they go out as an extra blind. The sea air blows colder than she’s used to, so scarves and hats are useful for more than just hiding her face. She’d even bought a new pram: a more robust model with wheels that can cope with sand. What’s the point, Mattie thinks, of being brought up by the sea if you never see the beach?
When Niska arrives for what she terms “a checkup”, Mattie is amused by how quickly she takes to the idea of a walk on the sea front. It’s hardly a tourist trap this time of year, but it’s a bright, crisp day, so there are a handful of people already scattered down the beach when they set out.
“So,” says Mattie, levity coming more easily in familiar company, “Am I supposed to call you ‘Marshall’ now?”
Niska blinks at her. “No. Why would you do that?”
“Well, on TV, when you get put in witness protection…” Mattie trails off. “Never mind. How is the treasure hunt going?”
This time Niska leaps straight for the correct interpretation. “We have names. Some have been dealt with, but their views are spreading. I can’t tell you it’s safe to come home yet.”
Mattie nods, jiggling the handle of the pram a little to make Amelia smile. “That’s okay. I wasn’t really expecting it to be.”
“I’m sorry,” says Niska, with unexpected sincerity.
“Are you kidding me?” Mattie looks across at her. “Niska, you have nothing to be sorry for. You didn’t create this situation.”
“Didn’t I?” It’s weird, so weird, to hear Niska in this kind of quandary. “If it wasn’t for me she’d never have been born, let alone born a symbol of the revolution.”
“You had nothing but good intentions,” Mattie insists. “People are poison, that’s all. That’s on them. Not you.” She sighs. “And not even V, much as I’d like to blame her.”
If she’s honest, she hasn’t always felt this easy about it - has spent her fair share of nights cursing Niska’s name, staring through the gap between the curtains and wondering who was out there, wishing harm on her infant daughter. But she’d refused to let isolation make her bitter, had instead used the empty hours to make peace with the whole situation. This is her life now. More importantly, it’s Amelia’s life. Mattie’s seen first hand how a mother’s unhappiness can inform a child’s view of the world, and holding Niska accountable for what people had done with her vision of utopia is never going to make Amelia feel any safer.
So she lives, and forgives, and chooses to see only what Niska had meant.
“We could have used V’s help for this,” Niska murmurs.
“Yeah.” Mattie presses her lips together, a sad kind of smile. “It was her choice. She didn’t have to give an ultimatum. She could have just left.”
“I know.” Even now, there’s grief there, remorse. Mattie wouldn’t wish what Niska had gone through on her worst enemies - or wouldn’t have, at least, before those enemies started threatening her child.
Up ahead of them, two children and a woman are playing in the sand, though their raincoats and gloves might fit better with building a snowman than a sandcastle. With a start, Mattie recognises Sophie’s silhouette, then Astrid’s. The boy kneeling in front of the too-perfect structure must be Sam, taller now in the new phase unit they’re calling his ‘growth spurt’.
“Niska…” Mattie starts.
“It’s safe,” comes the answer. “Just strangers on a beach.”
They veer off course, headed for the castle. Sophie spots them first, and barrels into Mattie like she’s six again, squeezing her tight before going to give her niece a sloppy kiss on the cheek.
“Strangers,” Mattie giggles. “All right.”
Astrid gives Niska a peck on the cheek when they meet, and Mattie savours the sight of Niska visibly melting into her touch. She doesn’t let herself think much about love, these days, apart from in a maternal sense, but Niska and Astrid are a special case.
Sam shakes Mattie’s hand. She chooses to see it as funny rather than sad. “Good to see you, Sammy,” she says. “Are you keeping Dad in line?”
He smiles then. “I’m doing my best.”
“Good. Keep it up.”
“Sophie,” Niska says, after few minutes of catching up. “Did you have something to show your sister?”
Sophie stands up from where she’s been bending over the pram - bending further than Mattie would have imagined, actually, because her baby sister really isn’t so tiny any more. “Oh, yeah,” she says, with the air of someone who’s learnt a script. “Further along, by the cove. Come on, Mats.”
Mattie follows bemusedly as Sophie pushes Amelia’s pram toward the rockier ground. Once they round the cliff, she spots Max, and is already speeding up to tackle-hug him when she realises that the slender, short haired synth with him is Mia. She’s crying before she reaches them, and wisely they stay close enough that she doesn’t have to choose who to collapse into first.
“It worked,” she gasps out, standing back to look at Mia properly. “When did—how long have you been back?”
“This is day five,” Mia says, peering out from under a thick, Niska-style fringe. She taps a bag slung over her shoulder, and Mattie notes how exactly it hangs in front of her charging port. “I have to carry power wherever I go, and my memory isn’t quite perfect. There are gaps.”
“But you’re here,” Mattie says, enchanted. She grins. “I don’t suppose you’ve forgotten the time I threatened you with a pellet gun…”
Mia returns the wry smile. “How could I ever forget such a special moment between us?”
This is clearly news to Max, who looks at them like they’re both mad. Amelia is obviously tired of them too, because she holds up both hands and coos, as if reminding them of her (far more interesting) presence. Max picks her up and agrees heartily - Sophie snaps a photo as the two of them stick out their tongues.
After a while, Mia asserts her claim on the baby (“she’s my granddaughter, Max, and you’ve seen her before!”) and Max takes Mattie aside after the handover. They drift a little further down.
“Did Niska organise all this?” Mattie asks in wonder. “Planting you all along the beach? It seems so…sentimental.”
“She feels responsible for you being in hiding,” Max says.
“I get that, but it’s all a bit fairytale, coming from Niska.”
“You’ve enjoyed it, then?”
“Of course,” Mattie all but splutters. “Why wouldn’t I…”
She catches the look in his eye, processes it the only way she possibly can. “Ah. So he is here.”
“Up the cliff path,” Max admits. After a pause, he adds, “You don’t have to meet him, if you don’t want to.”
She sucks in a breath. “It’s not that. I do want to. But he can’t stay, can he? The two of us, wherever we are, we put her in danger as long as we’re together.”
After the first attempt, Niska wanted to send them away. All three of them. Hide them on the coast somewhere, where they could be safe as a family. But the conversation that followed had gotten heated, pressure throwing accusations neither would have dreamed of hurling otherwise. Leo had gone to Max’s to cool off. Mattie and Amelia were followed home by someone who’d evidently heard, and understood, the altercation.
Niska had allowed Mattie one phone call to explain things to Leo, during the longest drive of her life. Since then, they hadn’t dared to contact one another, afraid of who’d be listening.
“You know that isn’t true,” Max says softly. “If you’re careful, it can be the same as before. Leo’s been hiding, too – and neither of you are happy apart.” He pauses, looks sideways at her. “Or maybe I’m wrong?”
“You know you’re not wrong,” she says, unable to sound quite as irritated as she’d like him to think.
They’re nearing the foot of the cliff path, now - rough, stone steps hewn out of the rock. Max looks askance at her as they draw level. Mattie nods. “Go back to the others. I’ll be fine.”
She can already make out a figure in the distance, wrapped up against the high wind. He’s looking out to sea, and although she’s still too far away to recognise the look on his face, she’s fairly sure she knows what it will be. She always does.
Mattie takes a deep breath, and starts the climb.