Allie's War Season Three (34 page)

I DIDN’T KNOW where I was.

Truthfully, I didn't much care, either...not for what felt like a really long time.

Weight pinned me down, but I was all right with that, too. Whatever it was, it cocooned me in a familiar, protective warmth, even as it kept me from having to do anything else. In time, I noticed other things, too, but they all fell within the same collective sensations of comfort and safety. Breathing paced mine, a heartbeat, the occasional stir of muscle and skin...for another timeless stretch, those things were all I noticed, all I thought to notice.

Slowly, though, I opened my eyes for longer and longer periods.

The room around me started to look familiar.

Even more gradually, I became aware that I had to go to the bathroom.

The knowledge irritated me at first, if only because I could feel the clock winding down on my previously blissful lack of doing...as well as the lack of caring about the non-doing which in some ways felt even more precious. I mulled this over in my mind, trying to decide if the downsides of leaving my nest, even for a short time, would be worth the relief to my bladder.

Part of me thought the quicker I did it, the easier it would be...and the sooner I could return. Getting it over with might be the best strategy. I was still thinking about this when the weight around me shifted...then pulled me closer. Looking down, I found what I should have expected to find, if I'd thought about it for anything longer than a few seconds.

It was an arm.

I knew the arm, recognized it, even before I saw the tattoo on the smooth inner skin. My brain was back enough for that. It also made the decision about the toilet harder.

"Just go," he murmured. "Come back."

I glanced up at him, but didn't see his face as he'd already lowered it to kiss my neck. Even so, his words ended up being the tie-breaker.

Despite what he'd suggested, he resisted moving his arm off me. He didn't do it at all in fact, but left me to slide out from under him, disentangling myself from the sheets after a brief moment of panic where I felt trapped there, too. When I finally got free, I only sat there for a moment, perched on the edge of the bed. My fingers were still wound around his lower arm, massaging the muscles and skin, stroking down the light coating of dark hair. I could see the bathroom door in the light shining through the curtains, but it looked really far away.

"Go," he prodded. He pushed at my back with his hand, his eyes still closed.

You're awfully pushy,
I told him, struggling to form words, even in my mind. My fingers still clutched at him, along with the edge of the mattress.
...Trying to get rid of me?

"No," he said, clasping my hand on him.
I want you to come back..
.

Realizing he probably needed the toilet too, I stood up. Too fast, it turned out. My knees buckled, quickly enough that I found myself abruptly kneeling on the carpet. When I glanced back, he'd raised his head, but didn't seem to be able to quite focus his eyes.

"Are you all right?" he said, rubbing a hand over one side of his jaw. He had the beginnings of a beard. Something more than just end of the day shadow, anyway.

I nodded, puzzled by what had happened.

"I'm okay." I looked down, laughing. "Carpet, see?"

"Are you going to get up? Or do I have to carry you?"

I was already gripping the night table by the side of the bed, using it to leverage the rest of my body up. I got it mostly vertical again, but didn't really trust it to stay that way. My legs still seemed wobbly, but it was the dizziness that confused me. I kept a hand on the wall, taking careful steps until I reached the opening into the bathroom. Moving my hand from the doorframe to the sink took another moment of gathering my thoughts. Then I hung there, gripping the marble counter that dipped down to become the sink's deep basin. I squinted into the dim space until I found the toilet. For some reason, it took me another few seconds to figure out how the whole thing worked again, but then I was sitting there, and it was a relief.

I peed, still gripping the marble counter in one hand.

After that, I felt a lot better.

Struggling back up to a standing position, I managed to get my underwear and shorts up before I turned back to try and figure out the rest of it. My sense of smell was strangely acute, enough that I found I couldn't make myself leave the room without first figuring out how to flush the toilet.

"Leave it," said a voice by the door.

I looked up, realizing only then that I hadn't bothered to close it on my way in.

Revik stood there, leaning on his hands against the doorframe. He was naked, but somehow, it took a few seconds for that to penetrate, too. Instead, I found myself focusing on the sink, tugging on the silver handles while he took my place at the toilet. It didn't occur to me until he was already relieving himself that maybe I should have given him some privacy. I was too preoccupied by how happy I was to have figured out the soap dish and the soap itself, well enough to wash not just my hands, but my arms and my face. I still had my cheek under the cold stream of water when Revik flushed the toilet, startling me into raising my head, then nearly falling against the wall next to the light fixtures.

He barely seemed to notice.

With a series of hand-gestures, he motioned for the water, and I nodded, watching in a blank kind of fascination as he washed his hands and face as thoroughly as I had, dunking his head partway under the stream. The sink basin was deep enough that he got his hair wet, even the back of his neck.

"You have a better sink than me," I told him.

He laughed, raising his dripping head.

"Do you want a shower?" I asked.

I was almost proud of myself for remembering the word.

He shook his head. Turning off the water, he walked towards me, curling an arm around my waist as he pulled me up against him. He didn't pause at the door, but continued walking with me held in front of him. He brought me with him back into the other room, his free hand still balancing both of us against the wallpapered wall. I didn't really think much of it when we both ended up back in his bed a few seconds later. Once he'd burrowed back under the covers, he was holding me against him, tugging the blanket and bedspread and sheets over my legs and back. Seconds later, I felt him pulling at my shirt, his fingers questioning.

The question had pain behind it, but I felt the vulnerability there, too, the asking, and I kissed him even as I was already starting to comply, tugging the dark blue T-shirt over my head. I got it caught somewhere around my shoulders and head, and panicked again, but his fingers were there, helping me pull it off, easing it over my head and off my second arm. He didn't ask about my shorts, but began tugging them down around my hips himself, holding my shoulder carefully in one hand as he pulled them all the way off my feet. Kissing me between the shoulder blades once he got them off, he shoved them off the bed to the floor.

I saw my underwear go with them, but didn't care about that, either.

I turned around as soon as he finished, sliding my arms around him, relieved to feel nothing but skin when I pressed against his chest. I felt relief on him, too.

I was still melting my light into his when another thought tried to penetrate my awareness. It nagged at me for a few seconds, trying to find purchase, before I finally managed make sense of it. Even then, the question was vague, lost somewhere in a more detailed context.

"...Your back," was all that came out of my mouth.

He must have felt enough off me that he understood.

Using one hand, he tugged the covers off again to expose most of his upper body and mine. Once he had them off, he shifted to his side, pushing me with his light so that I would know where to look at him. Within seconds, I saw the patch there, and frowned, touching it gingerly with my fingers.

"Does it hurt?" I said finally.

No. I don't feel anything,
he sent.

"Are you sure?"

I think it's gone,
he sent.
Whatever it was, it's gone, Allie...

I prodded it again with my fingers, harder that time. His light coiled over it, and over my hands, but all I felt off him was curiosity. I didn't feel pain, and when I scanned that part of his back, what I felt was more a memory of damage, not the damage itself.

Take the patch off,
he told me. "...It's okay, Allie. I'm all right."

You don't want me to call someone else to do it?

When I glanced back at his face, he shook his head. His fingers were massaging my back where I lay, pausing long enough to curl through my hair, combing and stroking it with both hands as he tugged it around the side of my neck. He didn't take his eyes off my face.

I want you to do it.

Leaning over him, I examined the patch more closely, resting my weight on his waist. After scanning him a third time, I began pulling at the edges of the patch gingerly with my fingers, separating it from his skin. He didn't take his hands off me as I worked. When I got closer to the middle of his back, he shifted further to his side, giving me more access even as he began stroking my foot with his fingers.

Just yank it off, Allie,
he told me.
I'm okay...I promise.

His other hand continued massaging the muscles in my back, sliding lower to knead the base of my spine. Briefly, the motion distracted me enough that I found myself just lying there, nearly forgetting what I'd been doing. But that vague worry nagged at me still, prodding me to see what was under the greenish square.

"Get it off, Allie," he said, his voice more gruff.

His hand was on my rear now, sliding down between my legs. He didn't move his fingers higher, but I felt his skin flush as he looked at me. It occurred to me for the first time that I was giving him an eyeful, lying on him the way I was.

He laughed, tugging at my hair.

I yanked harder at the organic material, reminded of an octopus for some reason...maybe from the rubbery feeling of the edges, or maybe from the way it clung to him, almost like a parasite. Once I got one edge all the way up, it was easier. The rest of the patch peeled up in a single piece, making a kind of sucking noise as it separated from his skin.

Tossing it off the bed, I couldn't help grimacing a little, feeling like I'd killed it.

"Can you see?" he said, prodding me again with his light.

I stared down at the reddish star pattern there, opening my light so he could see the same view through my eyes. Both of us looked at him through me for several seconds.

"It looks okay," I said. My voice sounded doubtful.

"It's fine," he assured me, sliding an arm around my waist.

"How did it heal so fast?" I said.

My fingers brushed lightly over the ridged skin, grazing it cautiously before I caressed the darker area around the mark.

"...I mean, it just happened, right?"

He didn't answer, but I could feel him assessing time with his light, probably trying to figure out where we both resided within it. Whatever answer he came up with, it didn't seem to answer my question...or his. He shrugged.

"Does it matter?"

I thought about this, too. Whatever anxiety I'd been feeling before I removed the patch, it felt like it was gone.

"No," I said. Relief reached my voice. "No," I repeated. "It's okay."

"Then come here," he told me, holding out his arms.

I didn't hesitate that time, either. Shifting around to face him again, I slid between his waiting arms, wrapping mine around his upper body as soon as I'd curled up against him. I closed my eyes, pressing my face against the bare skin of his shoulder and neck. I didn't stop touching him as I lay there, but I found I was tired again, barely able to keep my eyes open. My fingers ran over the dark hairs on his chest, tracing muscles and ribs, stroking his arms even as I wound my body tighter against his.

I dreamt about you,
he told me. His fingers stroked my hair, trailing along my spine as I was starting to drift off.
I dreamt about you in that place, Allie...with those people...
Pain slivered through his light.
It felt real, Allie. Why would I dream about that? Were you there, with me?

Which place?
I asked, my thoughts a murmur against his skin.