Imprint - 12. Chapter Three: Broken Bird

I

He paused just at the entrance to the compound, glancing quickly back over his shoulder; he needn't have worried, he could still hear raised, panicking voices inside and no one was paying attention to him. He slipped outside.

A couple minutes trekking through the forest, well away from where anyone was living, hoping he was heading in the right direction, a handful of acorns were sent flying across his path. He stopped walking, turning his head left and up, barely spotting a pair of legs dangling in the foliage of a near by tree.

He walked closer, craning his head back to see the boy sitting so high up, clinging to the trunk. “What are you doing up there?” he called.

“I'm not going back, Frost,” Tallen called back, “You can't make me go back.” It was less a statement than it was a plea, please don't make me go back.

He frowned, “What happened?” He didn't know; he'd been sitting in the courtyard when he suddenly heard yelling, then Tallen came tearing out of there as fast as he could, pausing just long enough to spare him a glance before vanishing beyond the entrance.

“That fucking psycho bitch came at me with a pair of scissors!” he could hear the note of fear that made Tallen's voice quiver despite his best efforts. That blond head shook rapidly, clinging tighter to the trunk, “I'm not going back, you can't make me.”

“What are you going to do?”

He thought he saw Tallen shrug, “I lived in the woods before.”

“What about me?”

There was a long pause, then, “Shit,” mumbled but audible, and Tallen started to clamber back down off the tree to the ground.

The boy stared at him with hopeful green eyes, “You could live in the woods with me? I could take care of you.”

Tempting, but he shook his head regretfully, “I don't think we can do that.”

Tallen looked disappointed but he didn't argue, sighed and lowered his head, “Yeah, you're right.”

He frowned, thinking back to what Tallen had said, “I think Elleth was just trying to cut your hair.” It was a guess, he'd heard her mentioning it more than once the last week.

“My hair doesn't need to be cut, its fine. See,” He grabbed a fistful of his blond hair at one of the longer parts, both hands one on top of the other so just the very ends of his hair peeked out of his closed fist, “Its fine.”

He stepped closer, reaching out to touch the chunk of hair Tallen just released. “It doesn't all look the same,” he said, moving his fingers to touch another piece, a short bristle close to the scalp, “Its supposed to look the same.”

“I don't care,” Tallen mumbled defiantly. He reached a hesitant hand out and tugged on one of his bangs. “Your hair is in your face,” he said now, “Its not supposed to be in your face, maybe you should cut it.”

“I like my hair.”

“Me, too,” Tallen admitted, shyly lowering his eyes.

“Do you like yours?”

A long pause and Tallen slowly shook his head, “No.” He looked up again, “Could you cut it? I trust you.”

It made him happy to hear, but he had to shake his head, “I don't think I can. I think I'd make it worse.”

“Oh,” Tallen looked disappointed again, “Could you be there with me then?”

He nodded, “Yeah, I can do that.”

Tallen smiled, “Okay. Then I'll go back. But not right now,” he added quickly, “I don't want to go back right now.” He scratched nervously at the scar on his face.

“Okay,” he conceded, sounded reasonable to him, “What do you want to do then?”

Tallen thought about it a moment, then held out his hand with a big grin. “Come with me,” he said, “I want to show you something.”

“What?”

“That thing I told you about before, that I wanted to show you but you can't tell anyone? I could show you now.”

“Okay. Um, where is it?”

“Its with me. I just want to...go over there first.” He made a clutching motion with his hand, “Come on. Its okay, I'll protect you.”

He nodded, placing his hand into Tallen's and letting the boy drag him further into the woods.

---

He sat on the ground, watching Tallen make a pile of twigs and dry leaves, adding in random pieces of crumpled papers that were in his pockets before sitting down next to him.

“What are you doing?” he eventually asked reluctantly when several minutes went by of Tallen glaring at the pile he created.

Tallen groaned in frustration, “I don't know!” He pounded his fists down on his thighs, “I don't know. It just...happened, before. I don't know what I did.”

“What did you do?” he asked, glancing curiously at the other boy.

Tallen didn't answer, he seemed to be thinking, scratching absently at his face, “I was really mad before, maybe that's what...” he trailed off, frowning, narrowing his eyes.

“What are you doing?” he asked after another couple minutes passed.

“Trying to think about that woman coming at me with scissors,” Tallen said, “But I'm not mad about that anymore.” He shook his head, groaning loudly, “Ugh, why won't think work? I just want to show you I can protect you.”

“I believe you,” he answered.

Tallen smiled, “Thanks,” he said, “But if I can't get this to work then I really can't protect you. Or me.”

He was quiet, not sure what was going on and thus not sure what to say.

“Maybe we should go back to the orphanage,” Tallen suggested, “Go find Zane, bring him up here with us.”

He was confused, “You don't like Zane.”

“Yeah, I know, I fucking hate that little come stain. So if he was here, I'd get mad.”

“What?”

“Huh?”

“What stain?”

“Oh,” Tallen waved a dismissive hand, “Something worthless.” He went back to glaring at the pile.

“Why do you hate Zane?” he asked, curiosity getting the better of him.

Tallen scowled, “Because he's a stupid, whiny little come stain. And he's always hanging all over you.” Tallen turned, pine green eyes boring into his own, “He's always bugging you, trying to make you play with him. Like you wouldn't be out there swimming if you wanted to.”

He shrugged, “Its not so bad.” Zane asked every time but he was always easily turned away with no hard feelings. The grown ups were worse when he first arrived, having only recently given up. None of them quite seemed to know what to make of his and Tallen's near instant friendship, for now just watching to see what happens.

“Yes it is,” Tallen protested, “Its fucking annoying. You're not his friend, he should leave you alone.”

He nodded and shrugged; maybe Tallen had a point but he wasn't going to make a big fuss over it either.

“I could make him leave you alone,” Tallen offered with a proud grin, “Like I made him leave me alone.”

After the beating he got last time, it seemed unlikely Zane would be asking Tallen to go swimming with them again; he'd been leaving any room Tallen entered, cowering behind the adults when he couldn't. Tallen was completely unapologetic, “I told him to fuck off,” he'd said to Elleth very matter of factly, “He should've listened.”

“You don't have to,” he said.

“Are you kidding, I'd love it.” Tallen grinned, “I could make him eat sand until he puked. Or – or, I could hold his head under water until he swallows enough water so it starts to hurt, and he has to cough it all back up and maybe he passes out or something. Bet he'd leave you alone then.”

“Yeah, probably.”

“So you want me to?”

“Um, well...” His eyes were drawn to light and movement past Tallen's shoulder. He gasped in surprise, pointing, “Look!”

Tallen turned his head, squealing in delight and jumping to his feet, “Yes, yes! It worked!” He was grinning ear to ear, “Its just what happened last time, except big.” He stretched his arms out to either side, “Real big, more than this.”

He watched the flames rapidly consuming the scraps of papers from Tallen's pockets, the leaves and twigs catching next until the whole pile was slowly burning. “How did you do that?” he asked quietly.

Tallen shrugged, “I don't know, it just happened. Before, I was really, really mad and it just happened. This time I wasn't really angry, but I was trying to make it happen, so maybe that's why.”

He frowned, watching the flames grow higher yet not move beyond the pile laid out for it. “This happens when you're angry?”

“Just one time.”

“Were you scared?”

“No, mad.”

“I mean when it happened?'

Tallen shook his head, “No,” his fingers scratched at his cheek again, “Why would I be?”

“I would be. I think I'd be scared.”

Tallen shook his head, “I was scared before. I didn't have to be scared no more.”

He raised a hand and brought it close to the flames, just close enough to feel the heat coming off it, pushing against the palm of his hand.

“But you see now?” Tallen asked, looking proud, “See, I can protect you.”

He nodded, “Okay.” The heat against his palm was becoming uncomfortable, “Can you – can you make it go away?”

“Huh? Oh, yeah, sure.” Tallen turned and glared rather pointedly at the flickering flames; gradually they started to die down, lower and fainter until it was gone and Tallen was looking proud again.

“Wow,” he said, looking up at the boy in amazement, “That was really...really good.”

“I got to do it better than that,” Tallen said, still staring down at the blackened circle, “I probably could, right? If I, like, practiced or something?”

He shrugged, not knowing one way or the other, but, “Maybe.”

“I should do that, then.” Tallen sat back down next to him, turned to face him, “You'll come with me, right?”

He nodded, “Sure.”

“And you can't tell anyone, remember?” Tallen said, “Because I want it to be a secret. I tell you because I trust you but I don't trust anyone else.”

He nodded, “Okay. I won't tell anyone.”

Tallen put a hand on the back of his neck, his small fingers squeezing, “Thanks, Frost.” That hand pulled him gently forward and suddenly the other boy's face was very close, green eyes watching him carefully. He couldn't help but notice how close to the eye that scar was, the point of it just below the tear duct with no room to spare. He had a thought to touch it, wondering what it would feel like, but knew he probably shouldn't.

Eventually his head was pulled against Tallen's shoulder, the hand leaving the back of his neck, the arm wrapping tight around him.

“I don't want to go back yet,” Tallen whispered, mouth close to his ear, “Do you want to play something? Or just sit here or something?”

He nodded, “Okay,” settling back comfortably against the other boy. Tallen's fingers moved down, lightly stroking his arm where the skin was bared from the short sleeved shirt. He would've almost preferred to be wearing less, it was so warm this time of year, but he just stuck with what everyone else was doing. Everyone except Tallen, who was wearing clothes for winter months that Elleth took out of storage just for him; he'd pitched a violent fit when she suggested anything else.

“So, what does it feel like?” he asked now, “When you do that?”

“Hmm, I don't know,” Tallen's fingers stroked up his arm with a little more pressure than before, “I never thought about it. Its kind of like...hot, its like hot and...it kind of tingles. And it just gets bigger, kind of slow this time but real fast before, and then it just kind of, like, explodes, like boom and then there it is.”

He thought about it, “Hot, that makes sense. That it would be hot.”

Tallen laughed, “Yeah, you're right, it kind of does.”

They stayed out there until the sun was low in the sky; they made it back just in time for supper.

---

II

Dreams like this were often sightless, but then they were of a time when his awareness had narrowed to a fine point, senses flickering in and out; he could see but images didn't register, he could hear but words made little sense. He was alone with his thoughts, his memories.

(I don't want to be here...I have nowhere to go...)

(“You have to go...run...I'll be right behind you.”)

(why did you lie to me?)

(“He doesn't love you.”)

(“...worthless human...only ever going to break your heart.”)

(...that's not true...not true..?)

(“You shouldn't have bothered.”)

(“I'm sorry...I never meant to hurt you.”)

(I don't know what to think...don't know anymore)

“Landon...Landon, can you hear me?”

(...don't call me that...that's not my name...)

“...someone new... -oving in here with you...should be fine...”

(...I don't care anymore...just leave me alone...)

“-iel, and this is Landon...doesn't talk much...keep to yourself, you should be fine...”

(go away...go away, please go away...I don't want to be here...)

“Um...hey, there. Looks like I'm...hanging around, I guess.”

“-room mate at the place they did that evaluation thing or whatever, gods what a fucking asshole. I seriously think he was a psychopath and he never shut the hell up. This is actually kind of nice, in comparison, you know?”

“...do you just not talk? I mean, can you understand me?”

“I'm not bothering you, am I? I know I talk too much sometimes, if you want me to shut up just tell me...or, like, throw a pillow at my head, or something.”

“You play cards, right? ...oh come on, everyone here's a card player, not like there's anything else to do...don't got to talk or nothing...don't make me go out there and mingle, I don't want to know these damn people.”

“Hey. Can you hear me? Are you okay?”

Time passed, its dark now; same day, different day, hard to know. Lying in bed, don't remember getting here; a dark figure crouching over him, whispering, keeping an eye on the door.

“Were you having a nightmare? You were...thrashing around, you looked like you were...screaming, but quietly. It was...really disturbing.”

He didn't remember, couldn't remember, everything blurred together.

(“He doesn't love you.”)

(“...only ever going to break your heart.”)

(“You shouldn't have bothered.”)

(“I never meant to hurt you.”)

(“You need to run...get out of here, go!”)

“Do you want me to get someone?”

He could manage a head shake, or a sharp jerk that could be taken for one.

(don't want anyone...I can't – can't...keep them away from me...)

“Okay, okay, I won't. I won't call anyone.” Voice lowering, that shadow coming closer, “Just...are you going to be okay? You were really freaking me out.”

Shadow closer, closer still, a hand running down his side, lips brushing his ear. Same night, different night, impossible to tell; everything blurs together, trapped here with his thoughts. Or had, until now; now there's this light, this gentle golden glow that pierces through this storm, that keeps him anchored because he can't dismiss, can't look away...

(“...doesn't love you.”)

(“...break your heart.”)

(“You shouldn't have bothered.”)

(“I'm sorry...I never meant to hurt you.”)

“Its okay,” whispered words, lips brushing his ear, a hand rubbing his thigh, “Its okay, you're safe here. I won't leave you.”

(don't ever leave me again)

His eyes fluttered open, lying back on an old futon thrown on the floor, a thin blanket thrown over him. It was bright in here already, floor to ceiling window and nothing covering it up; good thing the light never bothered him. His hand was curled beside his head, his eyes finding the silver band on his finger, rubbing it slowly with a thumb.

(safety...a promise...never alone again)

Been a while since I dreamed like that. He hadn't missed it.

He sat up slowly, yawning and stretching, trying to assess how he felt. He was still tired, worn out, his nerves strung tight and rubbed raw; the sort of day he would have to slowly ease into, the sort of day when he wouldn't be able to handle much else.

Was it worth it, though?

(eyes, smile, arms around him, fingers clutching, a heartbeat in his ear)

...yes.

Up and showered, TV flipped on to the local news almost unnoticed, he sat with his back to the window

(nothing to look for now)

cigarette in one hand, coffee cup in the other, staring at his phone hanging on the wall. Trying to decide if he was up for work, or if he should take what Lillian called a mental health day, trade this for one of his usual days off, she was pretty understanding about that. His next usual day off was in two days, Sophie wouldn't be there then either, give it some time for her excitement to die down, maybe this wouldn't be so interesting to her anymore. There was a chance of that, right?

“Well, since I know I'll get to see you again tomorrow, I suppose I should let you go now.”

Oh, that's right. I told him I'd be there...now I have to go in.

He was fiddling idly with the silver ring, twisting it around on his finger; he found himself doing that at the bus stop and on the ride to work, as he usually did when he felt on edge. He'd had it since he was about fourteen, a gift and reminder of one of the few bright points

(“Its okay. You're safe here, I won't leave you.”)

in a life that had become increasingly restrictive and difficult. He wanted to say that had happened gradually, moving around from one place to another, being taken care of first by families then groups then institutions, from extra concern to careful monitoring

(“He doesn't love you.”)

(“He was only ever going to break your heart.”)

but he couldn't be sure of that; even now, close to a decade later, he remembered only fragments, a confusing jumble of anxiety and fear.

(shut up...stop talking, you don't know...)

One of those fragments knocking loose in a dream was probably the last thing he needed, on top of everything else.

(and what am I supposed to do with that? Do I say something...but nothing was said...do I pretend then, forget...?)

He arrived at work to find Sophie waiting for him, having found things to straighten up that placed her conveniently right by the door so she could spot him immediately, frozen on the side walk, trying to remember why he even came in the first place. She moved quickly forward, yanking the door open with a manic grin. “Well, hey there, Casanova,” she said, “You look like you had a long night, I hope that means your new boyfriend took me up on my suggestion.”

Oh, right. I'd forgotten about that. Irritated by it all over again, he stepped inside, hoping against hope that he could just brush by her. “...I have...stuff, to do.”

She moved to block him, “Ah yeah, and some of that stuff is sitting down here and telling me all about your hot date with Tall, Blond and Handsome. What did he have planned? Something fun and X-rated I hope.”

He closed his eyes

(why can't I get away from this...prying questions, people who know better...only ever make things worse...)

(“I hate to see you wasting away, pining after that animal.”)

(“You can't trust that man...do you know what he's made me do?”)

“I can't – do this,” he tried to push past her again.

“Oh come on, Frostie. Five minutes and-”

“No!” that sounded unusually loud to his ears, but the way Sophie reeled, like she'd been slapped in the face, told him he'd probably heard correctly. “I can't – I can't do this,” the words forced their way out of his tightening throat, hands raised defensively in front of him, fingers half clutching, “I can't...can't fix this, with all this...questions and pressure and...this – this is not your business, so just...butt out.”

Sophie stood back, staring at him in wide eyed shock; trying to dredge up some amount of satisfaction at that, he walked past her to his safe haven in the back, closing and locking the door behind him.

It didn't take long for the guilt to settle in; he couldn't believe he had screamed at someone, much less one of the only friends he had. Surely he could've handled that better; should he apologize? Would she let him? It was a disturbing thought, as hard as she could be to deal with at times, he didn't think he would want her to not speak to him again.

(and be alone here...its so much worse, alone, confused, when its all so different...I never get better at this, however long, it doesn't stick...why can't I ever not be awkward...)

After a short while he heard a knock on the door; short, quiet, unobtrusive. And a voice, “Can I come in, Frost? I just want to talk.”

He froze for a moment, dreading the conversation, not knowing what he would have to say. Slowly, he got up, quiet and numb; unlocking the door, turning the handle enough for it to open and stepped back.

Sophie pushed the door aside and took two steps into the room, hesitant in a way he'd never seen her before. Her hazel eyes quickly read his face, she didn't seem to be upset. “Can I sit down?”

She had never asked permission before; maybe it should've been comforting, but it wasn't. He turned and walked back to the desk, leaving her to follow and take a seat at one of the two chairs left on the other side.

It was a moment before she spoke. “I think I should apologize. I really am sorry, Frost, about being so...over excited. I really didn't mean to upset you like that, and I definitely didn't mean to...pressure you, like you said.”

He took a deep breath, releasing it slowly, keeping his eyes lowered, “I know you didn't,” he said, “I'm...” what? Sorry? He kind of was, but it didn't feel like the right thing to say. “I shouldn't have yelled, I should've...done better.”

“No, no, its okay,” she was quick to assure, “Its good. I mean sometimes I need to get hit upside the head like that.” She shrugged, embarrassed, “I'm still not always so good at reading you. I can't always tell the difference, when you're maybe a little annoyed but its okay because you can take it, and when you can't take it anymore. When you don't say anything, I don't always see the line until I cross it.” She paused a moment, “I admit I knew I was crossing it yesterday, what I did there. I'm not apologizing, mind you, not if it worked out well. But I guess I knew you weren't in a good state.”

He remained silent, unsure what to say but glad things seemed to still be okay; he didn't cross a line, do something he shouldn't have.

“Can I at least tell you why? Try to explain why I was doing this? It might not make everything better, but I just...I don't want you to think I'm just meddling for fun, or that I'm just like, oh my god two guys are so hot, if I get them together maybe I can watch them kiss.”

He frowned, “Why would I think that?”

She groaned, “Fucking Chad, that's what he thinks. And he was making stupid jokes at me all night, more obnoxious the drunker he got.” She shook her head, “Seriously, why am I friends with that guy?”

He had never understood that one, never would.

“That's not it, at all,” Sophie insisted, “I wouldn't – I mean, I would be very happy if something were going on there with you, but I wouldn't really want to see it, or hear too many details or nothing. No offense or anything, its just that...well, honestly, its that I see you almost as like a little brother, you know.” She laughed, embarrassed again, “Which is weird, I know, because aren't you a couple years older than me?”

“Something like that,” he wasn't sure how he was supposed to be responding to this; Sophie's obvious embarrassment suggested that it should not be good, but the feelings weren't coming, nothing beyond a general curiosity.

She shrugged, “Yeah, weird, I know, but that's the way it is. I love you, you know, and its just like what I feel for my own little brother, you know where I want to show you the world and protect you from it. I'm sure you bring that out in people a lot.” She smiled sadly, “I want you to be happy, Frost. I always have, from like the first minute I met you. You just seemed so sad and alone. I want you to be happy, I want you to have someone that actually treats you good and makes you feel safe. But,” she frowned, her voice lowering, “But I also knew it probably wasn't going to happen.”

He folded his hands on the desk, calmly listening to her. “That's not to say there's anything wrong with you,” Sophie was quick to defend, “There isn't. You are so cute, and you're such a nice guy when you relax a little, you'd be a great catch. But you keep yourself so isolated, you don't let anyone get close to you or even notice you're there. And I know I pick on you about that a lot, but I also know you have your reasons. And I'm sure I don't want to know what they are, probably just upset me. And even though I keep, you know, trying to coax you out, I know you're not really going to do it – or more like can't do it.” She shook her head, “It sucks, because if someone could just show you that you're safe with them then you relax and its all good, but just about the only way you're going to meet anyone is if you put yourself out there. And its worse when its, like, dating. You want someone to even look at you, you have to pretty much dangle yourself right in their face.

“That's part of why I never thought it would be you that he wanted, and I already want to hug him for being smart enough to know a good thing when he sees it. And then there was you,” She beamed at him, “I had never seen you like that before, not with anyone, the way you responded to him. You remember when we first met? It took me, what, three months to get you to look me in the eye and say more than two words to me. And that was a huge accomplishment. And this guy, in one smoke break, he has you smiling at him, talking in complete sentences, and you were flirting with him.” She raised a finger against any objections, “You might not have intended it, but he was flirting with you and you were responding to it, so there you go.

“Can you blame me?” she asked, gesturing emphatically, “All things considered? Seeing something that I'd hoped for but didn't think was ever going to happen? I can't help but go and push you two together, see what happens. Its not like he didn't want to even if he wasn't sure how to do it, and its not like you didn't want to even if you'd never say anything.” She shook her head, smiling softly, “Its the sort of thing that might never happen again, you know. And yeah, I know, I'm supposed to be all optimistic, plenty of fish in the sea and all that, but this isn't...well, normal, I guess. A really great guy, and you're quickly okay with him, that's like a miracle and I didn't want to see the chance slip away, not when he made you that happy.”

So much to say, he started with the least important point. “I thought, you weren't sure how...wrong side of the tracks, he was?”

Sophie laughed, “Yeah, well, that was before I saw him with you. He is way too good at that, working around all your quirks, calming you down, protecting you like a gallant knight.” She shook her head at his questioning look, “Oh come on, do you think I didn't realize he didn't have reservations and he was just lying to get you out of there quicker? I mean, he was practically shielding you with his body, which was just so cute.”

He shook his head at the repeated use of that word, never sure why it embarrassed him but it always had. He forced himself to address the actual issue. “Its okay. I'm not...not mad. For that, yesterday. I wasn't – wasn't mad then, either. Overwhelmed isn't mad.”

(something was needed, a push...couldn't on its own, too much guilt and confusion...too much)

Sophie nodded, “See, and that's the kind of thing I get caught up on. Makes me very jealous of your new man.” She looked at him shyly, “You're really not mad about that, then?”

He shook his head, “...no, not mad. And if I was...what you said, it was – it was, nice.” Again, probably inadequate but he was less concerned here; Sophie could take small compliments and run with them, “Thank you, for...caring and...well, trying – putting up with... But – but, that doesn't mean I can deal with...questions and squealing and...that.”

Sophie looked mock offended, “Squealing? Are you making fun of me, Frostie?”

He kind of was. “You know what I mean. I can...only deal with one, big thing at a time. Don't... make it bigger.”

She nodded, “Yeah, well I wouldn't want to do anything to ruin this for you guys. And I guess I should've known I couldn't celebrate with you, total emotional overload, right?” She nodded again, “Okay, I will do my best to contain my excitement at seeing you finally being happy like you totally deserve. I will limit myself to smiling and nodding and resist the urge to jump on you and squeeze you half to death, like I would if you were my brother.” She grinned wider, “I'll just save that for when I see Chad, unleash it all on him.”

He blinked, “Why?”

“Hey, if he wants to think I'm some squeeing gay fan girl, well then that is what I will give him.”

“...please, don't talk about me with him.”

“Oh, I won't. I'll make stuff up. Raunchy stuff, things that will haunt his dreams.”

“That's – really not...better.”

Sophie shrugged carelessly and moved on, “And I do still want to ask questions, but,” quick with assurance, “not anything I wouldn't ask anyone else. Less even. And I'll be real calm about it. And you don't have to if you don't want to.”

He thought it over and nothing sounded unreasonable with what he knew; while tempted to tell her to get the details from Tallen, he wanted to try. He nodded his permission, trying to brace himself for the worst.

She smiled, “Okay, well first of all, did you have a good time?”

He paused only half a second before nodding; yes, that was still how he felt.

He could see Sophie carefully suppressing whatever excited utterance she'd wanted to make. “Well, that's – that's good. Glad to hear it. What did you guys end up doing?”

He told her, gave the specifics; she wasn't familiar with either restaurant or film.

“Was he a perfect gentlemen the whole time? He didn't do anything that would cause me to light his nuts on fire? I told him I would if he did anything to you.”

He shook his head, “No, he...was good, so...don't burn him.”

She laughed a little, “Did he kiss you good night?”

He felt his chest tighten

(no, but he wanted to)

“I'm not – not answering that.”

Sophie grinned, “That's okay, I think I got my answer.”

He gave her a look, “Not answering isn't an answer.”

“Oh don't worry, Frostie. I know he didn't. You would've reacted more if he had.”

He frowned. What does that mean? Does she think I'd...what is it?...blushing school girl? I don't even understand that. No matter, even if some part of him thought he should be offended, he wouldn't correct her assumptions; it could only be to his benefit if she was looking for telling reactions that were never coming.

“Are you going to see him again?”

He hesitated, worrying over what she might say, though there was no point in even trying to hide it. “I told him...when he comes today, you can – send him back.”

Again, he saw Sophie swallowing down the reply she wanted to make, to stay seated and not touch him; he felt better, seeing that, the effort. “That's good,” she said after a minute, “Glad to hear it. And, uh, I'll be sure and send your man over to you just as soon as I can.”

He nodded, working to pull up a few words, “Thank you, I...feel better, about things...this, us.”

Sophie smiled, “Good. And again, I'm sorry. For everything.”

“...me, too.”

(sorry I can't be what I should...only what I am...and I can only pretend so much...)

Sophie might not know how to read him, but she could put up with a lot, go with the flow when need be. It wasn't perfect

(not him...but no one can be him...)

but he was glad things were still okay.

---

Sometime later he heard that same distinctive knock: three one three one two. It was later than yesterday though a little earlier than the day before; crazy schedule indeed.

He rose to his feet, heart beating harder, wondering, dreading, anticipating; crossed the room and unlocked the door.

On the other side, golden hair, pine green eyes and a wide smile. “Hey, you. You opened the door.”

He nodded, feeling self conscious under that gaze, trying not to let it show. “Yes, I...said I would.”

“I know,” Tallen smiled, taking a step forward

(close...so close...)

and holding out a Styrofoam coffee cup, his usual thermos in his other hand. “Here,” he said, “I brought you something.”

It took a second to make the proper connections, “Oh, no, you don't...I can drink coffee for free.”

Tallen nodded, “Yeah, I know that now, that's why I didn't have to pay for this.” He gave a short laugh, “Actually, Sophie tried to give me my own free as well, but that – seemed a little much.” He held the cup out again, “Go on, take it. Its just the way you like it.”

He accepted, wrapping his hands around the heat. “Thank you, for...the, uh, gesture.”

Tallen grinned, “Well, you're welcome.” He took another step into the room, just a few inches away. He didn't back down, making himself stand still, looking up; it wasn't fear he was feeling, not fear but...a lot.

(its different, all different now...maybe he won't leave again...it can be like it was...)

Tallen looked him over very carefully, searching his face for something. “Are you okay?” he asked, then reluctantly, “Last night?”

(heat, hands, heartbeat)

“...yes,” and he meant it, “Yes, with...everything.”

Tallen kept watching him and he thought this was a test, the closeness; he wanted to pass. Tallen smiled, reaching out and touching his arm, lightly, a slight pressure of fingertips. He accepted, quietly, didn't even flinch.

(want to be safe again...show me I can trust you...)

Tallen walked past him, leaving him to close the door again behind them.

When he turned back around, Tallen was pulling something out of his coat pocket; a metal cigarette case that he put on the desk, pushing over to where he had been sitting. “As promised,” Tallen turned to face him, grinning, “So, which would impress you more? If I told you these were really easy to get, no problem, my contacts are that good? Or that it was hard, I had to beg, threaten and do a lot of unspeakable things but I did it anyway, just for you?”

He smiled, walking back around the desk and retaking his seat. “Well, I think it has to be the first one...if it was the other, then – well, you probably wouldn't smoke them, right?”

Tallen laughed, shedding his coat, dropping his bag and sitting down opposite him. “Ah, I guess you have a point there. Number one it is.” He rested his chin on his fist, trying to look cocky, “I am a very well connected man, you know. Anything you want, I could just snap my fingers and have it brought to you on a silver platter.”

He was laughing, soundlessly, so easily, “Really?”

Tallen winked, “Sure thing, sweetheart. I'm going to take care of you.”

(“I'm going to take care of you...its okay, you're going to be okay.”)

Tallen was wearing a white t-shirt today and faded blue jeans; it made the black tattoos

(burns...they're burns, how does he have aether burns?)

up both his arms stand out sharply. He couldn't look away, eyes calmly tracing first one pattern then the next; up to the edge of the sleeve and back down again.

(good luck charms...like accusations...)

Tallen tried to peer around at the computer on the desk. “Were you in the middle of something?”

Snapping his attention back, he nodded distractedly, “Uh, yes...something, some work. I have...time, enough to finish.”

Tallen nodded, “All right. Well, if you want to keep working on it, feel free. I got stuff of my own to do if you want. Whatever you want to do, I'm good either way.”

He smiled, another layer of anxiety lifting and fading away. Simple, easy, no pressure.

Thank you...

---

Too many people in the room. Too many people, too many wrong people; so loud, vulgar, unpredictable, unstable. Never know what can happen in a room like this, but its always bad. Always screaming at least; one time he remembered being hit in the face, not on purpose he didn't think, a struggle just came too close, he still got knocked over. It was terrifying.

I don't want to be here... He didn't have a choice.

One good point this time, one warm presence beside him, pretending to pay no attention to him; don't want anyone else to see, take notice, ask questions, decide its their business. Best to keep your head down, best to not be seen.

“I hate this shit,” whispered voice, leaning close, a moment of peace when others were distracted, “Same thing, every time. They ask me why I'm here, I answer and they don't like it.” A scoff, “I'm not going to say the lies they want me to, won't fucking do it, not for anything.

“What about you?” A laugh, “I'm not even sure why they dragged you out of your room. Like you're going to share with the group, right?”

They asked though, every time; drawing attention to him, all eyes in the room watching, judging, impatient. Unpleasant, uncomfortable, shameful; in his more lucid moments he thinks that's the point, change the behavior through shame. As though that would loosen his tongue.

People were laughing; time had passed again, not much he didn't think, they were all still here. The laughter was young, the outrage was older; focused this way but not on him.

“I don't think that's why you're here.”

“Yeah, well, I disagree,” the voice next to him, angry, defiant, “and I was there, so I think I would know better than you.”

“Use that kind of language in group again, you'll be in time out.”

“You know what, whatever. You don't like my answers, don't ask me questions. You know everything anyway.”

He wants to sound flip, but he's upset; easy to tell if you bother listening, he doesn't like to do this. Slumped in his chair, angry, defiant, not pushing but not backing down; he's tired of this, doing this.

Struggling, pulling his focus back, to this room, to this body; to move consciously without being lead. Try to be subtle, don't draw notice, let them continue to think him a living doll, not a person to interact with. Doesn't take long for someone else to say something wrong, for attention to shift to the other side of the circle; careful, like its just shifting around, let your leg fall open to the side, until the knee bumps up against the warm figure in the next chair.

He can hear the sharp intake of breath but doesn't think anyone else does; see the eyes shifting his way just briefly, could read the gratitude there. Silent support, just as he got after hours when the nightmares were bad.

The other shifted around, too; leaning back in his chair, tilted to the side, arms crossed on his chest, hand hidden behind a bicep, fingers extended and rubbing at his arm. A quick smile, a small bit of happiness in an unhappy place.