Override (Glitch)

few times a day and brought me food, but otherwise I remained in bed and stayed Linked.
    I was afraid of the rush of emotions I knew would come as soon as I disconnected, even though I probably didn’t have enough power left in my body to be dangerous for a while. After a few days, when I finally did disconnect myself for a few hours, I was surprised that I felt almost as numb as when Linked. I was left alone to stare at the drawings on my wall and let Max’s accusing gaze stare back at me. I had sworn that if I ever got the opportunity, I wouldn’t fail to save the people I loved. No matter what.
    But I had failed. We all had. Ginni said that after the General had been healed, she’d nearly torn up the Med Center in anger. I closed my eyes and I was back in the facility, feeling the blast buckle the ground beneath our feet, watching the ceiling caving in on us. I saw Max lying there tied up before the ceiling collapsed on top of him.
    The hours were tortuous as I replayed the scenes in my head, thinking of all the ways I could have done things differently. But I didn’t let myself re-Link, except at bedtime. I deserved to feel the pain.
    On the sixth day, Adrien pulled back the curtain and sat on the mattress beside me.
    I turned my face away to hide it in my pillow. I knew I shouldn’t blame him for what happened. I knew his visions were only flickering images of a future he had never been able to change, but I couldn’t help it. He should have warned us what was coming. We could have tried to stop it.
    He took my shoulders in his hands.
    “Jilia says you should try to get up today.”
    I closed my eyes.
    He let go of me, shaking his head. “We did everything we could. I know you want to save everybody, but this is the way it is. It’s the way it has to be.”
    Anger lit through me and I sat up. “How can you say that? Max wasn’t just anyone to me. He was my friend. I loved him, in my way.” I grabbed my head, feeling a bit dizzy from the sudden movement. “He only stayed with Bright because he couldn’t bear coming with me when we escaped the Community. I just always thought someday we’d have a chance to start over.”
    “What you’re feeling is guilt,” Adrien said flatly. “Not love.”
    I stared at him, openmouthed. “Why are you being like this?”
    He leaned in, his face dark. “Because anger is what you need to be strong right now, not sadness. Anger will help you get out of this bed.”
    His words surprised me, but then I realized I was sitting up for the first time in a week. And I wasn’t too tired. The buzzing thrum of my power was back, quieter and weaker than usual, but there.
    “You’re right,” my voice was hard, “If I need anger, I have plenty of it. I’m furious with myself. And maybe it’s not fair, but I’m furious with you too.”
    Adrien looked down. “Believe me. You couldn’t be any angrier with me than I am with myself. The whole thing was a trap. The Chancellor knew we were coming. And how else could she have known?”
    I stared at him, not following.
    “Because I told her.”
    I let out a confused gasp, but he continued, “I couldn’t understand why I wasn’t getting any visions of this mission. It was so strange. Usually when something big like this happens, I’ll get long-term visions well beforehand. But I didn’t see anything about this mission, and I’ve realized why.”
    He looked at me, anguish clear in his eyes. “It’s because I already had those visions, a long time ago. Before we escaped the Community, when the Chancellor used her compulsion on me. She made me tell her my visions and then made me forget. She must have known long ago that we would be coming on this raid. What kills me is that I must have foreseen her setting the trap for us. I gave her the blueprints for exactly what to do.” The words poured out of him in a rush. “The only reason we’re still alive is because the explosives in the second half of the building malfunctioned.”
    He’d answered the question I’d screamed in rage at him during the raid. The question I could see had been giving him sleepless nights ever since.
    He hadn’t known this would happen.
    He hadn’t known, but he blamed himself all the same. And I’d pushed him away, reinforcing that blame. The look on his face bored a hole straight through my chest.
    “I’m sorry,” I said. I was such an idiot. I took his face in my hands, then leaned in and put my forehead against his. “I’m so