Echoes

Echoes
Connor

Nico doesn’t usually ask to see me. He just shows up, laptop in hand, mutters something about “updating the firewall before one of your psychopaths breaks it again,” and then disappears back into whatever cave of code he lives in. So when he sends a message — Need a word. My cabin. Alone. — it gets my attention. By the time I cross the courtyard, the morning air smells like rain and gun oil. Winnie’s outside, sleeves rolled up, patching one of the recruits who learned the hard way that Sage’s version of “training” involves being punched, tripped, or both. She’s scolding the boy in that soft way of hers that somehow still sounds scarier than shouting. I nod to her, and she smiles, tired but kind. Nico’s already at the door, hair wild, eyes rimmed red like he’s been up too long again. He jerks his head for me to follow. No words. Just that sharp, clipped movement he uses when his brain’s already three steps ahead of his mouth. Inside, it’s the same chaos as always — cables, half-finished machines, empty coffee mugs. The air hums faintly, like the room itself is thinking. He doesn’t sit. Just stands by his desk, rubbing the bridge of his nose.
“What’s wrong?” I ask.
He exhales hard. “It’s D.”
I lift a brow. “What about him?”
Nico turns, opens a drawer, and pulls out a tiny black object no bigger than a coin. Sets it on the desk between us.
“I got a message from him last night,” he says. “Asked me for five of these. Micro-cameras.”
I frown, leaning closer. “For what?”
“That,” Nico says, “is the problem.” He crosses his arms. “He didn’t tell me. Just said not to tell you or Sage.”
For a second, I almost laugh, and then I do. Low, rough, shaking my head. “Jesus Christ. That’s the kind of unhinged I fell for.”
Nico gives me a look somewhere between disbelief and exhaustion. “That’s not reassuring.”
“He’s fine,” I say. “He’s just… curious.”
“Curious?” Nico’s eyebrows shoot up. “Connor, he’s installing surveillance equipment on a woman he barely knows. I’d say that’s a few stops past curious.”
I rub a hand over my jaw, fighting a grin I shouldn’t have. “Let me guess. Ricci’s sister?”
Nico blinks, caught off guard. “How the hell did you—”
“Because it’s exactly what Sage would’ve done,” I say simply.

There’s a pause, the kind that’s half frustration, half reluctant agreement. Nico leans back against the counter, muttering, “Yeah, well, that explains it. The kid’s a carbon copy. He even tilts his head the same way when he’s lying.”
Before I can answer, the side door opens and Winnie steps in, wiping her hands on a towel. She takes one look at our faces and sighs. “What’s he done now?”
Nico groans. “He’s stalking people.”
“People?”
“A person,” I correct, lifting a hand. “Just one, apparently.”
Winnie arches an eyebrow, unimpressed. “That’s not really helping your case, Connor.”
I shrug. “He’s not hurting anyone.”
“Yet,” Nico mutters.
She gives him a warning look before turning to me. “You know what this sounds like, right?”
I nod. “Yeah. Sounds like Sage.”
“Exactly,” Winnie says, gesturing with the towel for emphasis. “Which is why maybe — and hear me out — we should try steering him a little less toward ‘borderline assassin’ and a little more toward ‘normal functioning human being.’”
Nico smirks. “So what, you want me to tell him to buy flowers instead of spy gear?”
“Yes,” Winnie says flatly. “Maybe teach him that if he likes a girl, he can just ask her out instead of wiring her apartment like he’s in a Bond movie.”
The image makes me snort. “Yeah, good luck with that. He doesn’t take advice well. Must run in the family.”
Winnie plants her hands on her hips. “He’s eighteen. You can still course-correct him before he turns into another Sage.”
“Hey,” I say with mock offence. “Another Sage isn’t a bad thing.”
“It is,” she says dryly, “if you don’t want him to end up with half a police force on his tail.”
She’s not wrong, but I can’t bring myself to agree. I just shake my head, smiling despite myself. “You can’t change who he is, Win. The kid’s got shadows in him, sure. So do all of us. But he’s loyal. He’s smart. And when he decides someone’s his — friend, family, whatever — he’ll burn the world before he lets them get hurt. That’s not something I’d ever want to take out of him.”
Nico sighs, dragging a hand through his hair. “So your solution is to let him spiral into obsession and hope he channels it productively?”
“Pretty much.”
Winnie huffs a quiet laugh. “You’re all insane.”
“Occupational hazard,” I say.
She shakes her head, still smiling, and heads back toward the infirmary. The door closes softly behind her, leaving the faint scent of antiseptic and lavender.

For a while, the only sound is the faint hum of Nico’s machines. He’s fiddling with one of the cameras again, the small lens glinting in the lamplight. Finally, he says, “So what do I do?”
I think about it, watching the light shift through the room. “What you told him,” I decide. “Get him the name. Nothing else. The rest, he can figure out on his own.”
“You really trust him with this?”
I meet his eyes. “I trust him to make mistakes and survive them. That’s the only way he’ll learn.”
Nico studies me for a moment, then exhales. “You sound like Sage.”
I grin. “Guess it’s contagious.”
He chuckles under his breath and pockets the tiny camera. “Fine. But if this ends with someone calling me in the middle of the night about a hostage situation, I’m forwarding the call to you.”
“Wouldn’t expect anything less.”
When I step back outside, the air has shifted, heavy with clouds, quiet except for the wind. From here I can see the faint outline of Diego’s cabin in the treeline, the window glowing dim. There’s movement, a shadow crossing behind the curtain. For a second, I swear I see Sage’s reflection in that light, not her now, but her then. The one who’d break into government buildings just to see what secrets she could pry loose. The one I fell in love with. I understand what she meant when she called Diego mine. Because he is, he’s her, he’s me. He’s all of us, every piece of darkness this family ever learned to turn into love. And God help whoever tries to stand in his way.