Evolution by Kate Wrath

our sanity in the presence of this hellish
creature that brings back so many nightmares.  Apollon’s fingers are
clenched into fists pressing down on the metal hand that wraps his waist. 
I wriggle my fingers underneath his, twining our grasps together.  “It’s
OK,” I whisper.  “Don’t be afraid.”  I manage to say this even though
I’m so clearly and incredibly terrified.  I turn my tear-streaked face to
Matt.
    Matt’s jaw is clenched tight, his own fingers curled into
fists.  His eyes are fixed on our intertwined hands.  He doesn’t look
at my face; just at Apollon.  “I have a lot of questions for you,” he
says.  His voice is deadly cold.
    “Matt,” I plead.
    He only glances at me, his gaze as hard and unmovable as his
voice.  Then he looks back at Apollon, but first, for just an instant, his
eyes flick again to our hands.  Jealousy.
    I yank my hand out of Apollon’s and turn all the way to
Matt.  I stand there, between him and the Sentry that clutches my
friend.  I say nothing, but Matt’s eyes pull away from Apollon and find
me.  I can see his understanding.  His brow furrows as he considers.
    I wait out the long agony of his indecision.  His gaze
hardens, flicking again to Apollon.  Then he looks at me and sighs. 
He makes a dismissive gesture with his fingers, and, as if it reads his
movement as well as his voice, the Sentry lowers Apollon to the ground.
    My arms are around my friend in a flash, half-holding him up
as he stumbles.  “Are you hurt?” I’m asking.  “Did it hurt you?”
    He manages to shake his head, though he’s still trembling,
still in shock.  “I’m OK,” he chokes out, and he looks past me.  I
suddenly realize what— who he’s looking at.
    I let go of him, though cautiously, making sure he’s stable
on his own.  Not that I could really hold all of him up without
help.  I turn to Matt.  A few quick strides closes the distance
between us.  I throw my arms around him.  His body, at first stiff
with rage, relaxes against me.  I take his face in my hands and gaze into
his eyes.  “Thank you, Matt,” I whisper.
    Whatever displeasure was left in his expression melts as he
gazes back at me.  His face clouds with tenderness.  He leans toward
me.
    And I can’t.  I can’t do this.  I turn my face
away, down toward the ground.  “I have to go,” I stammer, needing to
retreat.  But Apollon.  Does he need help?  I look toward him
again.  Only he’s not there.  My eyes dart around as I search for
him, and there… just his back, retreating away down the street.
    Home.  He’s going home.  …And how I long to go
with him.
    I glance again at Matt, who looks like a child who has lost
his favorite toy.  “I have to go,” I say again.  But I can’t risk
that he’ll think I’m going after Apollon.  “We were in the middle of
something,” I stutter uselessly as I back away.  A half-explanation at
best.  I turn on my heel and head for the warehouse.  Jacob and
Taylor, always waiting for me, follow along.
    My insides are all mixed up, and I still want to be sick,
but with great effort I remain calm on the outside.  I try not to think
about all the questions, though the task is almost impossible.  There’s
plenty of work to do on my project.  I immerse myself in it, finding it to
be soothing and reassuring.  By the afternoon, my plans are well under way
and I’m more capable of thinking about them for real.  I head home,
fixating myself on the knowledge that the project will continue, and tomorrow
we'll be on to the next phase.  Even if I’m stuck here, even if I can’t be
with my family, there can be something that’s important—something that holds
meaning.  And in the end, I’m thankful.  My friend is alive. 
What else could I ask for?
    When I walk into the parlor, Matt is reading in his
chair.  It instantly makes me think of Apollon, and the pain of missing
him comes swarming back, intermingled with a current of