Never before had ten days gone by so quickly. Each one trickled through my fingers like running water – and the more I tried to cling onto the hours, the minutes, the seconds, the faster they'd slip away. Nights were even worse. Lying there in the dark was a recipe for self-torture, telling myself I should be out there doing something, even though I didn't have the faintest idea what.

I needed to speak to Jace. That much was obvious; I could barely process all we'd uncovered the day of the rally, and if anybody could help, it was him. At first, my plan had been to corner him the first day back at school, but a couple of hours into Monday morning and I realised it wouldn't be that simple. I peeked into the door of every classroom he was meant to be in, pleading with the voice in my head to catch a glimpse of the back of his hair. And yet I never did. Three days in, and I had to accept that my luck had run out.

But what else could I do? Catching his face on the TV screen a few times was the closest we'd got in days, and even then I'd been distracted by the nasty-looking gash slashed across the side of his face. I had to do something. The consequences of sitting back and letting things unravel didn't bear thinking about.

There was something I couldn't get out of my mind. I thought going for a walk might clear my head. Way past midnight. The echo of Jace's confession was on a constant internal replay, even though I could recall every other word of the conversation. With the youngest Snowdon, it was famously hard to dig deep, but this was the one thing I did have. The thread of possibility that, cloaked in the darkness of the early hours, he might be wandering the streets.

It was a real long shot. I knew that much, but in such desperate times, it had to be worth something. It wasn't like I spent those hours sleeping anyway.

So I started sneaking out. I channelled my inner Nova, and as the final hours of Wednesday crossed into the next day, I pulled myself onto the rooftop above her room and tried not to shiver in the frost. There was the risk of being caught, of course, but I had to hope the Astrid-shaped pillows under my duvet would fool my parents in the dark.

Like it mattered anyway, in the grand scheme of things. If I didn't try, we were facing far worse consequences than a week's house arrest.

I knew where he lived. The Snowdons' extra publicity had been useful for one thing, at least, and the press had plastered their apartment block all over the TV. It was right over in the west, on a street as upmarket as its name – Silver Terrace – suggested. Towering apartments reached for the sky all around me, but theirs stood out amongst all the others. By no means a remnant of the old city, a shard of glass rose from the ground, the walls reflecting moonlight like a glittering statue. I couldn't get in unaided – but there was little point anyway, unless I wanted to roam the halls and knock right on Max Snowdon's front door. Instead, I took to lurking down a nearby alley, edging close enough to the street so I could maintain a view of the door, but also duck away at a moment's notice.

The bitter cold was brutal. I learnt my lesson that first night, out there for hours – long enough for my hands to turn blue and sting like needles. From then on, I started wrapping up, layering everything I could find in my wardrobe in the hope it might keep the wind out. It worked to some degree, but the hours of exposure had ways of getting in anyway. My bones had to be freezing from the inside out, but as long as I kept my eyes on the Snowdons' front door, it felt like I was doing something.

Three days in, however, and panic started to settle over the cold. Daylight hours weren't much easier: Nova's birthday was approaching, and tensions at home were at an all-time high. This was the third since she'd vanished, but all signs pointed toward it being as difficult as the previous two. Though Mum and Dad did their best to pretend Nova didn't exist most of the time, their ignorance failed to gloss completely over the date on the calendar.

It was almost a relief to get back out again that night, convincing myself that the icy wind was better than the atmosphere at home. It worked for a while, but got harder as the hours wore on, and the lack of movement around Jace's apartment began to take its toll once more. How many days were left now? Not enough – and yet I couldn't help wondering if I should give up and try a new tactic. Even if I did find him, what then? There was no guarantee he'd know what to do, no guarantee he was even still willing to help me. The gash on his face – some kind of punishment, for sure – could've made his final decision.

I was seconds away from giving up. I couldn't feel my hands, and my exposed face had started to burn in the wind. The whole thing had been for nothing, and I was beginning to feel stupid for even thinking it would work in the first place. Of course Jace wouldn't be wandering the streets at a time like this. It was the most dangerous move out there.

And then, suddenly, it happened. I was just about to break away from the seclusion of the alley, and the dark figure appeared in my line of sight. They were moving fast, a pace fuelled by either urgency or the cold. Their hand turned, glancing ever so slightly over their shoulder, and my heart skipped a beat.

Jace.

It was definitely him, even bundled up in the scarf he'd pulled over half his face – a move I suspected wasn't just to keep out the cold. He hurried along the street, pulling something from his pocket on the approach to the glass entrance. Only once he'd reached out, swiping it through the keypad on the side of the wall, did I realise that it was an ID card.

With my heart in my throat, the realisation struck me: this was my chance. He'd already reached for the handle, pulling the door open and moving to step inside. Once it clicked into place behind him, my chance was gone – and I couldn't let this opportunity slip through my fingers like the rest of the night.

I darted out from my spot in the alley, feet hammering against concrete as I sprinted toward the closing door. The path couldn't have been longer than a few metres, and yet in that moment it seemed to stretch for miles, opening up ahead like I was running on a treadmill. My fingers stretched as I threw myself toward the door, and I managed to grab the edge right before it slipped against the frame.

I yanked it open again, casting a single sweeping look around the lobby. The place was empty – even the reception desk had been deserted overnight, seemingly confident that the exterior security would keep intruders at bay. Jace had already made it to the other side of the room, and he was now stepping through the lift doors that had parted at the touch of a button.

There was no time to think. Sprinting in his direction, I tore across the hotel lobby, trying not to ponder the consequences of being seen. I watched as Jace pressed a button on the wall, and as he turned back to face the lobby, our eyes met for the first time.

There was barely time for him to register the connection before I'd bundled into the lift, slipping through the doors just as they started closing behind me. I noticed the frozen look of sheer panic on Jace's face as the momentum half-slammed me against the wall, and the ping of the lift punctuated the end of my pounding footsteps.

Jace was frozen on the spot, struggling to string a coherent sentence together. Which, I guessed, was kind of understandable. "Astrid—"

"Jace," I breathed, finding suddenly that my own explanation had evaporated. The stealthy entrance hadn't left much time to choose the best first words.

Then, suddenly, he seemed to find some. "What are you doing?"

"I had to talk to you," I said quickly. "Time's running out. I couldn't think of any other way."

"You could've been seen." He moved closer, and for a strange minute I thought he was leaning in, until I realised he was aiming for the buttons on the wall behind me. "You should not be here right now."

"What are you doing?"

"You can't be anywhere near my apartment," he said. "Not even on the same floor. It's way too dangerous. I'm not even supposed to be out right now."

"But you are," I said. "And so am I."

For that second, he just stared at me, and I wished more than anything I could read beyond the disbelief that masked any other emotion. Dark eyes squinted behind thick glass frames, rimmed by the blue-black shade of insomnia. On his cheek, pale skin gave away to an angry red wound. I briefly wondered how the side of my own head, now free from its bandages, looked in comparison.

I realised then he'd changed the floor: the lift, which had originally come to a clunking stop, was picking up speed again in its upward motion. I glanced at the buttons behind me, noticing that just the top sat illuminated. "Where are we going?"

"The roof." Jace's hands were making nervous movement, two fingers rubbing repeatedly over a patch of skin on his wrist, which was difficult to ignore once I'd noticed. "It's not perfect, but it's got to be safer than anywhere else here. I can't believe you got in."

"I've been hanging around for days." Part of me wanted to shake him, to make him realise how much time we'd already wasted. Was the date not burned into his head like it was mine? "I had to do something. We can't just sit back and wait for it to happen."

"We don't even know what it is."

"I'm willing to bet your father's not planning a surprise party for the entire academy," I said scathingly. "We've got to figure this out."

It was then that the lift came to a stop, letting us know with a soft ping that we'd reached our destination as the doors slid open. The rush of cold air hit me at once; we were no longer within the warmth of the apartment block, instead left to battle the elements alone. Four nights on the street had toughened me slightly, but conditions twenty floors up were in a whole other league to the shelter of the alley. Wind rushed past our ears with its own roar, while the air had an edge of ice that seemed to scrape at the top layer of skin. The only consolation was that we were at least slightly dressed for the outside.

We stepped out of the lift together. "You sure nobody will come up here?"

"It's not a guarantee," Jace said, "but it's our safest bet. They were supposed to be renovating up here – building a roof terrace or something. But they've been saying that for years, and I don't think I've seen a single builder."

I glanced across the space. It looked nothing like the rest of the apartment building, like the lift had transported us somewhere else completely. While the rest of the block pointed upward like a splinter of glass, the square of metal and concrete that sat on top seemed ancient, like the previous gloomy plot had simply been elevated twenty storeys. Electrical wires snaked around our feet, and industrial-sized vents caged us in.

"It's not exactly pretty." Jace's voice pulled me from my thoughts. "But the view makes up for it."

I followed as he sidestepped the wires, leading the way across the concrete jungle toward the edge of the building. My eyes were had started to water with the assault from the wind, and even shoving my hands into my pockets couldn't stop their stinging, but when my gaze landed on the sight before me all of it seemed to melt away. Twenty floors up, and I'd never seen New London look so beautiful.

The city of glass twinkled against a three a.m. sky, fighting off the cloak of darkness the night was trying to lay. Day to day, it was easy to forget how lucky we were; most of the nation's other cities hadn't been so lucky during the collapse. The capital was the only one that had truly risen from the ashes – instead of being pieced together using broken fragments. Fifty years on, and anybody could prosper here, in the aftermath of our genetic engineering success. New London, in a sense, had saved the world – and perhaps that was why the view took my breath away.

"Wow." Even after several seconds, this was all I could muster. "I've never seen it like this."

"Not many people have." There was a rail at the edge of the building, a barrier between us and all those metres below. As Jace leaned against it, I wondered briefly if it had always been there, or added shortly after Eva Kelly's drastic action. "It's weird, you know. Sometimes, looking at it like this... it makes it easier to forget what goes on here. And then other times... it's all I can think about."

I glanced over, noticing the way moonlight seemed to unfold onto his pale face. "What is it tonight?"

There was a pause – one that went on so long I began to wonder if an answer would come at all. Then, without any movement, it did. "The second one."

It was what I'd expected, but the three words managed to shake me anyway. Or perhaps that was just Jace in general. "We have to do something," I said eventually, when it started to feel like he might never look in my direction. "I don't know what. But we can't just sit back and wait for it."

"I know."

"So what do we do?"

"I don't know." It came out so suddenly, so forcefully, that my entire body flinched. Jace's gaze had been torn away from the city view, and caught under its sudden intensity, I felt stupid for even wanting it in the first place. "Look, I don't know who you think I am, Astrid, but I don't have all the answers."

I was taken aback. "What?"

"I just..." He raised a frustrated hand to his hair, tugging his fingers through it like this action might soothe him. "Sometimes... I feel like you look at me as if I'm the one who's going to solve everything. And I'm just not."

It was weird to hear this kind of infliction on his tone, a furious unpredictability to a voice that usually reassured the nation. "I'm sorry," I said, shrinking backward. "I didn't mean to."

Perhaps he sensed the shift of balance, the way I suddenly felt six inches tall. He looked away, leaning further onto the railing, and sighed deeply. "I'm caught up in this entire thing as much as you are," he said quietly. "I don't know whether it's because the bad guy is my father, and you think in some way it makes it easier. But it doesn't. If anything, it makes the whole thing a thousand times more difficult."

I didn't know what to say, finding the words had suddenly drifted from my head. Maybe I had to count it as luck that Jace continued.

"I want to help you," he said. "Of course I want to be the hero that solves everything, saves the day, aligns the moral compass of the whole world. But things are much bigger than that. Yeah, my dad's Max Snowdon, but in the grand scheme of things... I'm tiny."

I took a deep breath. "I don't expect you to be the hero, Jace. I've never expected that. It's just... this entire thing is so overwhelming, and I'm caught up in the middle of it – but at the same time I feel like I don't know anything. Without your help, I'm pretty much useless."

He looked over, and I wished more than anything I could read what was running through his mind. "Well," he said, "without your help, I'd probably still think Eden was safe."

I couldn't bear the look in his eyes: painful resignation, glazing over what had once been bright and optimistic. I'd seen something undeniable in them that first time he'd told me about Eden, a flash of hope that perhaps nothing else in this world could ignite. And even though I barely knew him, I couldn't stand to think it might never come back again. "She still could be," I said quietly. "You don't know."

It was supposed to be an offer of weak comfort, but he only managed a humourless smile and turned back toward the city view. "Right," he said. "I don't. And that's the whole problem."

I didn't know what to say. Any words I could offer had lost their significance in the ocean around us, all my energy spent as I battled to keep afloat in the waves. Perhaps Jace was right: maybe the situation was bigger than both of us, stretching far beyond our capabilities and into the realm of far-fetched dreams. There was no guarantee either of us could do this. Do anything. And yet giving up was out of the question – I could read that much from the darkness in Jace's eyes.

"God, I miss her." The sudden voice pulled me from my own thoughts, right back into the moment encased by a night chill. "Even now, when I try to push her out of my head, to make things easier... she always finds a way back."

I swallowed, wishing more than anything I could help. It hurt to see him like this, somehow made the permanent pang of longing in my heart that much worse. Losing Nova was one thing, but the impact of this whole situation stretched much further than just a single person. This wasn't just my sister. This was all of us.

Suddenly, he turned his head, and I found dark eyes staring straight at me with a new kind of intensity. An intensity that came across slightly unsettling. "I think I see her sometimes," he said. "In you."

My breath caught. "What?"

"Only ever for a moment," he said, "before I realise. But for that one second... it's like she's right in front of me."

I was frozen. Frozen by the howling wind, the darkness, the pain in his eyes. There was nothing I could say. No words that would mean anything to the guy wishing with every ounce of energy that I was somebody else.

I wasn't Eden. But in that one moment, for some inexplicable reason, I wanted to be.

"But then I realise," continued Jace, after the pause had stretched beyond what either of us could bear, "and that's when I think maybe I'm just going crazy."

"You're not crazy."

"Aren't I?" With resignation etched into every line of his face, I could tell convincing him would take more than words. It was a belief buried deeper than I could reach – perhaps that only Eden could draw out of him. "I don't know."

I wasn't sure what made me do it. Instinct? Recklessness? Either way, it was something – and the reason my hand shakily crossed the gap between us and rested itself on top of Jace's.

At first, the contact seemed to cause a jolt, and it seemed like he might pull away. But a couple of seconds later, I watched him relax. His palm settled under my own, and I curled my fingers just enough to enclose it. The cold metal of Nova's ring pressed against his fingers, but he didn't seem to notice. The action felt surprisingly natural, like we'd been leading up to it for a long time, despite never having consciously crossed my mind.

"You can't think that," I said firmly. "Hurting doesn't make you crazy. It just makes you human."

"Well." He swallowed. "Making other people hurt this way kind of undoes that, don't you think?"

"It's not you."

"It's my dad, though."

"And you're not your dad."

Jace shrugged. "Half his genes, though. I think that's bad enough."

For a moment, I just looked at him, pondering the strength of conviction in his words. Could he really not see the difference between the biological dictator up on that podium, and the boy doing everything in his limited power to track down the girl he loved? A girl whose altered genome didn't, in his eyes, make her less of a human to be loved?

"Your genes aren't what define you," I said. "Isn't that what we're fighting for? Isn't that what we're trying to prove?"

He didn't say anything, and I could see in glazed eyes that his thoughts were miles away. Never mind that he was stood right in front of me – I still had to put every last ounce of my own effort into dragging him back.

"You have to fight for her, Jace," I said, hoping that if I stared long and hard enough at the side of his face he might be forced to look at me. "I'm not saying that because I know her, or because I know how much better this world will be with her in it. I'm saying it because if you don't fight for this... I think you might regret it for the rest of your life."

And it was here that I noticed it: the almost imperceptible shift of balance that somehow changed the entire atmosphere. Like my words had burrowed through that outer layer of despair, emerging into the unchartered territory beneath.

"I know," he said quietly. "I know."

"We have to do something," I told him, though I was sure it came as just an echo of what was already deafeningly obvious. "I'm not saying we need perfect plans or hard guarantees. That's not possible. But if anything, we've at least got to try."

Somewhere on the street below, an alarm sounded, though only the faint last whispers of each wail reached us on the wind. It seemed to centre both of us, reinforcing what had always been true yet not obvious: the city carried on without us. The night may have cushioned us in the safe belief that our moment was frozen in time, but the inner clockwork of New London continued to tick away, moving steadily closer to the unknown inevitable. Time would always move; it was us that had to catch up.

"Astrid."

It felt like the name came out of nowhere, even though I'd been waiting for it all this time. "Yeah?"

"You're right," he said, and the faint glimmer of hope flickering behind his expression told me he meant every word. "And maybe it's crazy... but right now, you're the only thing in my life that feels that way."

It caught me off guard, a string of words that only seemed to have a place this far above the city, but I managed to keep looking at him. "I know," I said, though every conscious thought begged to differ. "I get the same feeling. And surely... that's got to mean we're doing the right thing."

Jace smiled, a tight movement that somehow managed to remain empty of any real optimism. "I hope so."

"Yeah." I swallowed over the lump in my throat. "Me, too."

-------------------------

Hi, everyone! I'm actually really, really excited about this one because I loved writing this scene so much. We were very much overdue some Astrid/Jace deep conversation... and 4000 words later, I think I've delivered.

Any ideas on what you think Jace's big plan might be? Hedge your bets now...

Hope you enjoyed, and I'll try to get the next chapter out as soon as possible. If it's not before Christmas, Merry Christmas!

- Leigh