Mademoiselle E

Chapter IV

"Now please be a good girl and give me my body back so we can do this."

"But I like it."

"I like it as well and I saw it first so it's more mine than yours."

"Ha. Ha. Ha."

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Of course she wouldn't stay awake for long; the brief outburst of energy and curiosity ended as soon as the little thing was sure she was safe and watched over to her satisfaction. She submitted to a quick check-up and once pronounced stable and improving, declared she was more tired than hungry, hid under the covers with a sigh of relief and reassumed her drug-enhanced healing sleep, not before slipping her delicate hand inside V's vest pocket to make sure he would not get away. That was the first time V felt owned. It was a very curious feeling and he didn't know what to do with it. It wasn't hostile but it was definitely possessive and very jealous. He'd been picked before but it had been something completely different; back then he had been a thing, an object, just a toy to play with. No, the new feeling wasn't like that at all.

He pondered what to do next; he was hungry and less than decent, which had already been pointed out with great candor by his guest, who seemed to consider it pecata minuta. There was a lot of cleaning to do as well, not to mention the ever present planning for the fifth, the still long list of people he owed night visits to, and the design of the right menu for the girl's first meals at home. She'd need something light and full of nutrients to restore her strength after living in the streets and tempting enough to seduce her. He was also tired as hell after the adrenaline rush, and he was sore everywhere as if he had taken a beating as well, not the best time to think on complex feelings and all their possible ramifications. One more hour of sleep wouldn't hurt so he decided to get comfortable and follow his small patient's lead.

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"Thank you, my little monkey, you are light as a feather but your anarchy tree is a little tired tonight. Would you please put my things away? Careful with the knives, they are very sharp. Don't run down the hall with them."

"Can I get my stuff out of your bag already?"

"I don't know, can you?"

"Ugh, you know that I mean."

"And what do you mean?"

"-May- I take my things from your bag please?"

"Of course, my dear, I brought them but they are all yours to do as you see fit."

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The dreams came back, still dark and still his own, showing the old places and images he'd reluctantly grown used to but there was something peculiar about the emotions they evoked, as if they were interacting in slightly different ways that altered meanings and already established symbols. He could guess the girl had something to do with it and it was also true that dreams were often a reflection of things happening in the waking world so it was only natural that his mind would include her influence as a new dream element to play with.

V didn't know how but it was as if two previously unrelated images met and produced a third one that started making sense. He'd pay attention to any future changes but his present kept him very focused on minute to minute events and nothing seemed more important than sleeping, there would be plenty time to worry about a thousand little things. All of a sudden new images demanded his attention and their normalcy puzzled him beyond words; a parade of vegetables jumping into a pot of boiling water occupied his dream world and he had to admit that even when very alien to his usual dreams, it was still a very good idea; he could perfectly cook for the little caterpillar light soups with things straight from his hydroponics garden. He could think on dozens of different recipes but later, later, they needed to sleep and let nerves settle a little more.

If he paid a little attention he could hear the distant murmur of voices from the abyss of his mind, calling one another in excited whispers but they didn't seem to need him in the least and if they eventually did, they would simply address him. He'd learned over the years that they didn't like to be disturbed and stopped trying to overhear their conversation as often as possible. His sleep was briefly disturbed by a small body stirring and shifting to ease the pressure over sore spots but the intermission was short-lived and she continued sleeping and perhaps dreaming as well.

One hour of extra sleep became two and then three but at the end even he had to wake up and adapt to the new day with all the changes it would bring. The little hand was still in his pocket and a thin wrist was practically the only visible part of the girl pressing against him and still buried under his comforter. He didn't want to wake her and tried to remove the possessive hand from his pocket by taking her wrist and pulling gently but she'd found a way to grasp the linen even in her sleep and his attempts only made her whimper and stir displeased. He tried reaching inside the pocket to rub the back of her fingers in the hope that she'd let go and after a few minutes the little fingers relaxed, setting him free. He waited to make sure she was still sleeping and very slowly replaced his body with a big pillow she could hug.

A sharp mind was focused on solving one little problem after the next so the first thing would be to make sure she didn't wake up alone in a strange place –he could still hear her shrieking from the previous night every time she thought he was gone- and the solution was simple enough; he ran to the workshop and on his way back tiptoed next to the bed to plant a live bug on the headboard to serve as a baby monitor. He put the matching earpiece on so he could hear everything that went on inside his room and slid out to complete the next part of his mission while she was still asleep; the bathroom.

Everything looked worse than he thought but it was just the effect of all those wet dirty towels lying around and discarded medical supplies wrappings of things he'd used the previous night. He replaced the leather gloves with common rubber ones and picked the towels up. A minute later they were in the washing machine, spinning merrily in waves of soapy water. Next he brought several garbage bags and picked up what would be discarded. The pile of ruined clothes she'd arrived in was still in the corner and although his most fervent wish was to soak them in gasoline and set them on fire, he put everything in a bag thinking that perhaps she'd want to keep something. Of course he'd make sure to boil it first. The bathtub was in worse condition than the floor but vigorous scrubbing with the help of industrial chemicals restored its previous neatness. The floor needed only basic mopping and soon everything looked as if nothing had happened. But the very air had a different smell, very faint and subtle, almost hidden beneath the pungent smells of cleaning products and soap.

Next the kitchen; he wanted to run a quick inventory on his supply of fruits and vegetables, either fresh or dry. He had decided that even before the soups, she'd need sweet fluids to help her stomach get used to food again. He knew from experience what could happen if they rushed things and he was sure he didn't want her to end up throwing up on his comforter. No, they would start with liquids, one sip at a time. The bug was working quite well and he could hear her steady breathing so the slightest change that announced she would wake up soon was enough to make him slam the pantry door shut and send him running back to his room.

She was barely emerging from under the covers when he arrived; blinking at her surroundings and slightly confused. He watched her pout when she realized he wasn't there and that she'd been holding a pillow. She was about to cry when she saw him standing on the threshold, ready for anything. She sighed relieved and smiled at him, making him feel something very strange; nobody was ever glad to see him, nobody except her.

"Good morning. Again."

"Hiiii"

She had the most peculiar way to pronounce that word, making the sounds resound longer than necessary but he found it charming, like a sweet note played in a flute. Then another thought crossed his mind; that sweet smell he'd sensed in the bathroom wasn't some sort of hallucination, it was more obvious and filled his room making it feel different and full of life; it was her smell.

"You always look like this?" She asked narrowing her puffy eyes and lifting an inquisitive eyebrow.

Typical, let the effects of morphine fade and people start making sense and asking uncomfortable questions. He should have known, it was going too well and in one instant the feeling of alienation he always carried with him, the knowledge of being irrevocably and eternally a foreigner to his own species came back with all its might, replacing that new feeling of acceptance he'd barely started to enjoy since the moment they'd met. He should have kept her drugged forever.

"Mostly."

"Ah."

He wanted to look away, to squirm, to turn and leave before she uttered the devastating "why" that would surely follow but she kept looking at him, thinking. He should have been more careful with that little demon but he had no idea she'd be able to find vulnerable spots so easily, one glance and she could see right through him. He blushed embarrassed, thinking she might even see everything he had done or would do. Oh well, at least he knew now what it was like to be accepted, even if it had lasted just a few hours. He could hear her already; why the mask, why the wig, why the clothing, why, why, why… Maybe if he answered correctly he'd get that new feeling back, it was sweet and soft and made him feel warm inside. He wished he knew how to answer properly to a girl's ruthless questioning.

"You don't like pretty colors on you, huh?"

"Eh… not too often."

"I like colors but black looks very nice on you. I'm hungry."

That was it; she'd dispatched the matter with a wave of her hand; black was his, colors were hers. Apparently she was sorting out roles and traits to find order around her. V still waited for the awkward "why" but she seemed satisfied for the moment and he considered it best not to stir the pot any further, besides a good number of voices inside him sounded awfully pleased with her candid praise and it was always a good idea not to disturb them when they were in a good mood.

"And what would you fancy?" He'd cook a twelve courses dinner if she felt like having one, he'd cook it even if she tried one bloody dish only and decorated the walls with the rest.

"Carrots! Do we have any?"

He had been so tense that he couldn't help laughing, which earned him a well deserved puzzled look he was starting to read correctly.

"Now –that- was weird…" She declared, rolling her eyes at his reaction, with an expression that only a young girl like her could accomplish when facing male silliness, which only made him laugh harder. The kid was obviously perfectly capable of telling one thing from the next and although peculiar, she had a sense of where things belonged.

"Oh… Oh, I'm sorry. Yes, we do have carrots although I'd suggest starting with diluted juice. Oh God, laughing is good…"

"Then you should do it more often." She finished with a wicked grin and pointed at the door, clearly sending him on an errand. "I like carrot juice, too." He could laugh his ass off but she was still hungry and she still liked carrots.