Huntress didn't know what woke her. Moonlight streamed through the window as she held still and listened, all her senses reaching out for possible threats. After a moment she relaxed, secure there were no intruders in the room.
Question wasn't sleeping either. He shifted beside her, restless; she propped herself up on one elbow and combed her fingers through his hair. "You all right, baby?"
He let out a grunt of annoyance. "Can't sleep through the night anymore. Always tired, just...can't. Didn't mean to wake you." A beat, and then, "I like watching you sleep."
"I can't imagine why people think you're creepy, Q." She slid one hand under his collar and clicked her tongue. "You're sweating," she said, unbuttoning his shirt. She carefully eased him out of his clothes and propped him up against the pillows; while he was distracted she took a moment to fish through his coat pocket and find a small canister. He tensed when he saw it, one hand circling her wrist. "Don't."
"I want to see you."
He shook his head. "No. No, you can see it in my face, you can tell----" he protested before she put one finger over where his lips should be.
"Shush. God, Q, I swear you're the vainest man I've ever met." And she understood; he was afraid she'd flinch, that he'd look in her eyes and see pity. She still wasn't having it. "I want to see you."
He let go of her wrist, swallowing hard. The mask dissolved like a retreating wave, black hair lightening and features focusing. And it was true, she could see the sickness there; sharp, jutting cheekbones, dark circles like bruises under blue eyes that seemed too big for his face. It just didn't matter. "You see?" she whispered, brushing her thumb under his lip. "You're beautiful."
She put the canister away and straddled him, careful to keep as much weight off of him as she could. "Helena, I...I'm not sure I can...." he managed to say before she shushed him again. "We'll find out," she said. "And besides, I can tell that still works," she teased and God, he actually blushed. "Let me do all the work."
He leaned back against the pillows, his fingertips tracing patterns on her thighs.
"Just let me know if I hurt you, baby."
"You're not going to hurt me."
She rocked her hips, watching his lips slowly curve into a smile. His hands moved over her body like he was trying to memorize her with his fingers; their breathing was the only sound in the room and to Huntress it felt like the stillness before Mass, fragile and holy. He came whispering her name, then pulled her to him and buried his face in the curve of her neck. She murmured comforting nonsense in half-remembered Italian as he trembled, his breathing ragged against her skin. "Helena," he whispered, and she suddenly realized that no one might ever say her name that way again, "things I should say...."
"No, there's not." She stroked his hair; even the texture was different without the mask. "We're here on stolen time, baby doll, the both of us. It's why we do what we do." He held her so tight it was almost hard to breathe. "Regrets are for people with the time to have them."
"Heh." He was quiet long enough that she thought he'd fallen asleep. "Thank you for barging into my office that night."
"Thanks for not calling me on my bullshit."
"It was convenient." Another long pause. "I'm tired, Helena."
She fought back the tears pricking her eyelids. "Then get some rest, baby. I'm right here." She glanced up and saw Renee watching them; the other woman wiped the falling tear away before Q could see.
***
When she woke the sun was high and Huntress was alone. She listened to the silence of the room, her heart pounding in her ears. "Then why go to all that trouble to help? Why would you risk your life for me?
"Because I...like you."
She curled up on her empty bed and sobbed herself sick.