They travelled together for a couple of days, nonstop. They alternated positions every now and then - while one drove, the other slept. Izzy, as it turned out, could sleep any time, anywhere, at will - she had complete control over her body.
Yet another thing that made her amazing in Matthew's eyes.
Of course, this also meant that they didn't get to talk much. Apart from when they swapped places and the occasional word about where they were going, the two days passed silently.
Finally, around noon on the third day, when they were switching places, Izzy said, "I'm bored. Let's just stop at the next place we find and blow someone up."
"Only one person?" Matthew teased.
She laughed. "Nah," she replied; "the more the merrier, right?"
He laughed, too. Then, he decided to ask her something he'd been wondering.
"Hey, Izzy?" he asked.
"Yeah?" she asked, turning to face him.
"How are you so comfortable with this?" he asked her.
She smiled nastily. "What do you mean?" she asked mockingly.
"I mean…" He took a second to figure out how to put his feelings into words. "Well, society teaches us from birth that we should obey the law, and that killing is wrong, and things like that," he finally said. "I don't believe in all that now, but it's been imprinted on me so well that…well, without you, I wouldn't have the nerve to kill people or blow up public places or anything like that myself; not because I don't want to - I do - but because I've just been brainwashed by society. Everyone gets brainwashed by society. So…how is it that you're not affected by that?"
This time, it was a whole minute before Izzy was able to rebury the pain his words caused her. He knew she was hoping he didn't notice, but how could he not? It was so obvious…
"I doubt we've had the same upbringing," she finally said coldly.
He sighed. "What's going on with you, Izzy?" he asked her. "I know there's something you're not telling me - something that hurts you-"
"I told you not to expect me to tell you my life story!" she snapped defensively. "My life is none of your business!"
"But-"
"If you value your life," she snarled softly, stepping closer to get right in his face, "do not push me."
He blinked. "Okay," he said; "I won't push you. I just want you to know that you can talk to me."
She rolled her eyes, shook her head, and got in the back of the car without another word.
Matthew sighed again. He'd blown up a train station for her, and she still didn't trust him? What did he have to do?
Deciding that only time would tell, he got in the driver's seat without saying anything more, and they started moving again.
~X~
Time passed. Izzy and Matthew bombed places, killed people, and when they ran out of money, Izzy would rob a bank, with Matthew posing as a civilian to keep an eye on things…and she would always kill someone on the side just for fun. Matthew learned a lot from her, and his inhibitions quickly started to fall away. He strived to be like her. She called him "hotshot", and she always did so in a very sexy tone of voice.
When they traveled, they were together 24/7. When they settled down someplace or other for a few days, though, they always spent their nights apart - Matthew in a hotel, Izzy somewhere out on the streets. Matthew never stopped worrying about her when this happened, and deliberately tried to make sure they stayed in low-risk areas for her sake.
As time went on, absolutely nothing happened between them.
Absolutely. Nothing.
They didn't kiss, didn't hug, didn't hold hands - they never touched at all, in any way. Matthew was mindful of the time he had grabbed her arm - of the dangerous look in her eyes that had shouted Get your hand off me right now or you're a dead man! He didn't push anything. In fact, he was careful to not touch her; surely, she would initiate something at some point.
But two months passed, and she didn't. Matthew started to seriously wonder if she was as much of a slut as she always seemed to imply. He even started to feel like she was deliberately tormenting him with her outrageous flirting that absolutely refused to actually go somewhere.
Finally, when they parted one night, Matthew gave in to his frustration.
"Izzy!" he called after her.
She turned around and gave him that sexy, evil smile that was even starting to torment him in his dreams. "Yeah?" she asked.
He swallowed, working up the nerve to say something. What could he say, anyway? She had warned him not to push her…
Before he even knew what he was doing, he said, "You're beautiful."
She smiled nastily. "How would you know?" she taunted. "You don't even know what I really look like!"
He blinked. "What?" he asked, completely thrown for a loop.
She smiled mockingly and walked back over to him. "You can't tell?" she asked.
"Tell what?" he asked, getting more and more confused.
Before he even had time to think, she reached out, took his hand, and lifted it to the side of her head.
Matthew smiled and stroked her hair.
Izzy sighed and rolled her eyes, then took hold of specifically his index finger and ran it over a specific spot on her hairline. At first, the touch of her hand on his kept him from understanding what she was trying to show him. After a few seconds, however, he began to notice something.
He ran his fingers over the space on her hairline. He felt something strange, like a ridge in her flesh…
He blinked. "You're wearing a wig?" he asked, surprised.
She smiled her evil smile. "Uh-huh," she said. "And…" She took hold of his index finger again and lightly scraped his fingernail across her cheek. When he took his hand back and looked, he noticed that a lump of makeup had accumulated under it.
He looked back up at her. She smiled.
"I don't go anywhere unarmed," she said, "and I don't go anywhere without a disguise. So you can't say I'm beautiful, because you don't know what I look like. You can only say my disguise is beautiful, and that doesn't mean much."
Matthew's mind raced for a minute.
"Your eyes are the same, though, aren't they?" he finally asked, making it more of a statement than a question. "You're not wearing tinted lenses."
"No," she admitted, "I'm not."
He smiled. "Well then, at least I can say with certainty that your eyes are beautiful," he told her.
"Oh, nice save, hotshot," she teased.
"Thanks," he teased back.
They smiled at each other for a minute.
"Goodnight, baby," Izzy finally said, and she turned and started walking away again.
"Hey, Izzy!" he called after her as he thought of something.
She turned back to him.
"Who are you hiding from?" he asked her.
There was no flash of pain in her eyes or expression this time; she just smiled.
"Everyone and no one," she replied cryptically, and she left.
Matthew stood where he was for a minute before going back to his hotel for the night, thinking that although he knew that they were alike, and that he loved her, he didn't know anything at all about who Izzy really was…
~X~
Another month passed. Even though nothing had really come of his advance, something was different between them. Matthew didn't feel quite the same need to be careful not to touch her, and they occasionally touched briefly every now and then, if mostly by accident. Some barrier between them, however small, had come down. It wasn't much, but it was progress.
Finally, when they were about to part one night, Izzy spoke up.
"Do you know why I call you 'hotshot'?" she asked Matthew.
"Why?" he asked, smiling.
She smiled nastily back. "It's because you keep working so damn hard to impress me," she told him.
"And do I succeed?" he bantered.
Her smile turned sarcastic. "If you want to impress me, why do we keep ending up in small towns with minimum policing?" she asked. "It's getting boring."
"What would you like to do?" Matthew asked.
"I want to do something big," she told him; "something that'll get us noticed. Let's go somewhere that matters in the grand scheme of things and wreak havoc right under the noses of a competent police force." She smiled wickedly. "Getting away is more fun when there's actually someone chasing you," she said.
Matthew grinned. "I do like the sound of that," he said; "where are you thinking we should go?"
She chuckled nastily. "London," she replied.
Matthew blinked. "London?" he exclaimed.
She nodded, still smiling. "I have a little history there," she told him. "I know it's a big step up from what you're used to, but if you want to impress me, come tag along."
Matthew smiled. "I'd be happy to," he said; "on one condition."
Izzy raised an eyebrow at him. "You really think you're in a position to be naming terms?" she asked.
"It's as much for your sake as it is for mine, if not more so," he told her.
"I'm listening," she said.
He took a breath. "If we go wreak havoc in London, you're staying with me, not out on the streets," he told her.
She rolled her eyes.
"I don't mean with me with me," he told her; "I mean you're not going to be sleeping outside where you can get caught."
"Baby, I told you, if some idiot tries to mess with me, it's their funeral," she said sassily.
"I'm not saying you can't take care of yourself," Matthew said, "but this wouldn't be a matter of a couple of cops or some random street thug - this would be an entire squad of police cars, a deathtrap, and no one person could fight that off, not even you."
She rolled her eyes. "Baby, don't worry about me-" she began sarcastically.
"I do worry about you, though," Matthew told her. "I wouldn't be able to sleep at night if you were out on the streets in London after we blew something up-"
"You'd really be that upset if you never got to sleep with me?" she asked mockingly.
"Izzy, this isn't about wanting to have sex with you!" Matthew shouted, getting frustrated.
"Then what is this about?" she countered.
"This is about the fact that I care about you!" he yelled.
She blinked. There was silence for a second.
Then, she smiled mockingly.
"Why?" she asked.
It was Matthew's turn to blink. "What?" he asked.
"Why do you care about me?" she asked tauntingly.
Matthew blinked again. And again. "I…" He shook his head. "It doesn't work like that, Izzy," he said.
She laughed softly. "That's what I thought," she sneered.
"What?" he asked, utterly bewildered.
"Oh, please," she said. "Did you really think I'd fall for that? 'I care about you'…don't make me laugh!"
"Izzy, I do care about you," Matthew said.
"No you don't," she scoffed.
"Yes, I do," he insisted.
"Look, just shut up, alright?" Izzy snapped. "I know you don't care about me, so just stop it."
"Why are you so sure I don't care about you?" Matthew asked, getting annoyed.
"Because you can't," she replied.
"And why not?" he countered.
A bit of the pain he knew she kept buried started to show in her eyes. "You just can't," she replied coldly.
He had never pushed her when he said something that reminded her of her pain before, but this time, he had no choice.
"Why not?" he asked seriously.
"Just because," she replied.
"Because why?" he demanded.
"Because!" she snapped, getting angry.
"Because why?" he repeated.
"Because!" she shouted, turning away from him.
"Because why?" he yelled, putting a hand on her arm to keep her from walking away.
"Because no one ever has!" she cried, turning back to him with angry tears in her eyes.
Matthew was shocked.
There was silence for a minute, save for Izzy's heavy breathing.
"There, happy now?" she finally asked, still tearful with anger. "You got something out of me. Good for you."
Matthew took a breath. "No," he replied calmly. "No, I'm not happy. As for no one having ever cared about you before…" He hesitated, thinking about what the most effective response would be, knowing that he could make or break his partnership with her right then and there depending on what he said. "Well, there's a first time for everything," he finished at last.
Izzy blinked, the anger in her eyes vanishing, and he knew he had said the right thing.
There was silence for another minute.
"Look, what are you so afraid of?" Matthew finally asked. "If I try anything on you, I'm a dead man, and we both know it. Whether you trust me or not, let me hide you from the cops. Again, I'll sleep on the floor - and before you ask how long, I mean all night," he added firmly when she opened her mouth.
She hesitated…then sighed.
"Fine," she conceded, "I'll stay with you. But I'll take the floor."
"Izzy, I-"
"Chivalry is dead, baby," she said mockingly, her evil smile returning.
"I don't mind," he insisted. "Really, you can take the bed."
"I'd rather not," she said, her face falling. "I'm…" She turned away so as to not meet his eyes - to try to hide her pain from him, he was certain. "I'm not comfortable in beds," she finally finished. "I'd rather sleep on the floor."
Matthew wanted to ask why. He wanted to know, very much, what was going on with her. But he knew he'd been taking a risk just pushing her as far as he had, and he didn't push her any further. "Okay," he said instead. "Deal. When do we leave?"
She blinked; obviously, she had been expecting more probing. He smiled at her reassuringly.
After a minute, she recovered and said, "Well, unless you've got somewhere to be, we might as well leave right now."
"I'll pack my things," Matthew said.
