Wings of the Walker - CoraLee June Page 0,189

We might have developed a camaraderie of sorts, but that didn’t mean I had a right to tell her what to do.

"Favorite color?" Patrick asked. We were sitting on the leather couches while playing a game where we each took turns asking each other questions. So far, I'd learned that Patrick's first kiss was a girl that was now married to a man in Saberus, his favorite dessert was apple pie, and he once wanted to be a farmer before being assigned a job at the mines.

"Blue," I replied with a yawn while settling back into the couch. I looked over at Maverick who was once again hunched over and wholly absorbed in his work. The bickering between him and Allaire had stopped. It seemed the carefree lab assistant had retreated in on himself. They worked in quiet politeness, but there was a distance between them. Kemper sat nearby looking over a fetter, only speaking to let out a curse when it zapped him.

"Do you want kids one day?" I asked lazily, but Patrick's bright eyes made me regret the forward question. For the most part, we had kept the questions generalized to avoid deep conversation. We were all exhausted from the intensity of our time in Ethros, and mindless fun was just what we needed. But of course, I dived right in and opened up the potential for feelings again.

"Why? Are you already planning our future together?" he asked with a smirk while massaging my thigh. He kept his eyes on the others as his hand drifted higher. He pressed into my sore muscles with his thumb, and I suppressed a moan as his hand disappeared under the slit in my dress. His eyes flickered to Kemper, who still was absorbed in his work, and a small sound escaped the barriers of my lips.

"I actually don't want kids," he finally replied before pulling his hand away and peering at me mischievously.

"Me neither," I admitted after I allowed my pulse to slow from the excitement of his wandering hand. "Seems cruel to bring something so helpless into these uncertain times." I looked up from my entwined hands in my lap. Maverick looked at me pensively while adjusting his lab goggles and straightening his coat.

"What?" I asked with a shrug. "I like kids. I just feel like I'd love my own too much to subject them to all of this." I waved my hand around the room before placing it back in my lap.

"Have, uh, have you been, uh..." Maverick began, his cheeks turned red from obvious embarrassment .

"I left Galla before I could be sterilized, but I want to. It’s just one shot, right? Painless and simple," I said with a shrug. The sterilization law once seemed like such a burden for Walker women to endure. I remembered crying when the news bulletin was announced. Josiah said it was to prevent suffering and preserve resources. He said it was cruel to allow Walkers to bring children that would die from X into this world. It was easier this way. But now that I saw Lackley’s true colors, I saw the sterilization law as just another tool he used to control the population and breed only those he deemed worthy—the Elite.

"But also irreversible," Patrick interrupted while looking between us. "Maybe once this all blows over, you'll change your mind?"

"Maybe."

I stood and stretched. As I raised my hands above my head, my shirt rose up, revealing my stomach, and I felt Patrick's heated stare caress the exposed skin.

"Uh, Ash. Maybe we should try to find alternative solutions to prevent a baby until you're sure," Maverick said while watching me. I blushed. Despite my growing confidence in the physical aspects of our varying relationships, I knew what this would mean.

Allaire rolled his eyes and began ruffling through drawers of the lab until he found what he was looking for.

"Ah, here,” Allaire said, turning to me. “Cavil sends some of his personal Walker Companions to this lab for sterilization. I usually just give them this. I don't like how permanent the shot is," he said in a clinical tone while handing me a sheet of pink pills. "Take this. It’ll protect you for about six months, give or take. Once you menstruate again, you’ll need to take the next one. I've got about three year’s worth in this pack." He waltzed back to his work station before yelling, "You're welcome, assholes."

I looked down at the pills then back up. I knew what this meant.