A/N:
Ari: I don't think Tess would ever forgive me if I stranded her on Gaia merely as Reno's plaything. ;) The overarching plot is not forgotten, although it may be slow going at times. The story is turning out to be very much about disillusioned, damaged people trying to deal with consequences, of the actions of others as well as their own.
Days came and went, one following the other in an endless cycle. Much like Reno's visits, in that regard. With each encounter, he was less and less inclined to let me endure passively, while my mental barriers were cracking with every unexpected break in my safe routine. The man poked and prodded, looking for sensitive spots, and within a week, he stumbled upon a major one.
"I should have left you in that corridor," I hissed, punctuating my statement by tossing a handful of seized paperclips as far from us both as I could.
Words hadn't been enough to get a reaction out of me that day, but my temper had flared when the redhead fell back on pelting me with office supplies.
"Actually, you kinda did, remember? Why'd ya do that, anyway? I would've thought you'd love to watch me crawl on the floor. Maybe take notes while you're at it, yo."
A mocking note tinged his voice, along with accusation, but that last part left me more confused than irritated.
"What? Notes?"
"Y'know, be all 'scientific' 'bout it. I bet that's what Hojo would do, only he'd poke me with a stick, too, to see how I'd 'overcome unexpected physical challenges' or some other fucked-up shit like that."
There it was. A crack in the carefree facade, allowing a coldness to seep out and turn the smirk into more of a sneer. At this point, though, I was beyond cowering at subtle facial expressions. His inconsiderate words had already unshackled the darkness within and propelled me over the edge of caution. My eyes rose to hold his in a steady glare.
"Are you comparing me to Hojo?"
I uttered the question with a deathly calm, but as was his wont, the Turk ignored the warning.
"So you do know Dr. Freaky. Admirer of his work, eh?"
My fingers curled up on their own accord, digging deep into the worn fabric of the sofa, as flashes of half-repressed memories fueled the fire with a queasy mix of terror, hurt and humiliation.
"How dare you," I seethed.
Reno's half-lidded eyes didn't evade mine. Delicate eyebrows rose in challenge instead, egging me on.
"What are ya gettin' all worked up 'bout? Ain't ya s'posed to be a scientist like him?"
I shot up to my feet and towered over him, my fisted hands shaking with a rage that must have burned bright in my eyes.
"I'm nothing like that horrible man! Do you have any idea what goes on in his lab? Back where I'm from we have laws against the sick, twisted things he does! We have morals! Fucking professional ethics!"
The red-haired jerk had pushed me into screaming in his face. Reno didn't raise his voice or try to cut me off; he just watched me with an oddly satisfied look on his features as I yelled at him. It turned my stomach. How dare he look so pleased in the face of my anguish?
I was so enraged that tears formed in my eyes. Just as I finished my tirade, one of them welled over, splashing onto the cast on his leg. My anger entwined with embarrassment, and I turned on my heel to flee to my room. I couldn't stand the thought of crying in front of him on top of everything else.
He wasn't done with me, though. A few minutes later I heard the door open, followed by the quiet squeal of rubber tires on linoleum. I wiped away the wetness on my cheeks with angry swipes, then turned my face toward the wall, away from the insufferable bastard.
"Leave me the fuck alone!"
The door closed again, but now the sounds of the wheelchair were inside the room and moving closer. I sat still and tense, with my feet propped up on the bed and knees hugged to my chest, oscillating between anger, uncertainty and apprehension as I wondered what to make of his sudden silence.
I flinched when something landed on the bed beside me, then glanced down to see a box of tissues.
"Thought ya might need 'em, yo."
To say I was confused would have been an understatement, but one thing was clear in my mind. Whatever his intentions, I didn't want Reno anywhere near me.
"What part of 'leave' do you have trouble understanding?" I ground out through gritted teeth, glowering at the cardboard box as if hoping it would burst into flames.
Reno came to a halt by my bed, then looked me over. A small crease had formed between his eyebrows, but otherwise he looked as indifferent as ever.
"C'mon, Fitz, I just wanna check on ya."
His tone was far from remorseful or apologetic, but not exactly unperturbed either.
"Haven't had enough yet?" I growled. "Are you enjoying the show that much?"
"Believe it or not, watchin' women bawl their eyes out ain't gonna get me hard."
This time, the sarcasm covered any subtler sentiments. Together with the smirk, it was enough to make me tremble as another wave of resentment washed over me.
"Well you could have fooled me, looking so bloody pleased with yourself just now!"
"Yeah, well, that was before you ran off cryin'."
My body's reaction to uncontrollable fury may have been frustrating, but it was nothing compared to the redhead sitting by my bed. First he goaded me into exploding, reducing me to tears in the process, then insisted on... Well, whatever this was?
"What's that supposed to mean?" I snapped, swatting away the moisture on my cheeks again.
"It means that I didn't mean to make ya so upset."
The Turk spoke with an exaggerated air of long-suffering patience, but a trace of emotion tinted his admission. Had I been in a more charitable mood, I might have acknowledged it as mild concern. Instead, I just scoffed.
"What the hell did you expect? Hugs and kisses?"
"More like a punch in the face," he countered with a low chuckle. "Maybe a few kicks in the ribs after knockin' me over and stealin' my key card."
I lifted my incredulous stare to his face, unsure of whether I should be more insulted by his assumption that I would stoop to abusing an injured man in a wheelchair, or by the fact that he apparently found the notion of me attempting to unleash violence upon him amusing.
"You wanted me to attack you?"
"You asked what I expected, not what I wanted," he corrected me. "Was just tryin' to figure you out, yo."
He still was, judging by the hooded but unflinching gaze he kept fixed on me, observing every reaction, reminiscent of a cat stalking a mouse. I wanted to look away, but my wounded pride was strong enough to keep my eyes on his face.
"And the fact that I might have beaten you up wasn't a problem for you?"
"I'm a Turk, darlin'. I may be down, but I sure as hell ain't out. If you'd tried anythin', you would've learned that the hard way."
The faint smile didn't falter, but a touch of steel glinted in his eyes as he uttered the last line. I averted my own, feeling a chill raise the short hairs on the nape of my neck. When I spoke, the unsteadiness of my voice was no longer due to teary anger alone.
"You've seen my reaction. You got your answer. Just go. Please."
"Nah, not yet."
I frowned and hazarded a glance his way. Reno had parked himself close enough that he could reach out and touch me if he wanted to, though he had not tried to do so. He just sat sprawled in his chair; injured leg jutting out at an angle, elbows planted on the armrests, hands hanging relaxed and motionless, head tilted my way. Just my luck that the first guy I had met who showed no signs of awkwardness when faced with tearful females was also the last person I wanted to be around right now.
"Why not?"
Reno's shoulders lifted in a casual shrug.
"Your face is still leakin'," he stated, as if it explained everything.
"So?" I exclaimed in exasperation, sniffling and wiping my eyes in a silly attempt to hide the evidence.
"It's my bad, yo."
I just stared at him, mouth hanging open. Was he serious? I couldn't tell. The crooked smirk on his face gave nothing away.
"After everything you've done, you worry about a few tears?"
The man wasn't affected by the derisive tone of my voice; he just shrugged a second time.
"That was work. This was me bein' too much of an ass."
A snort of shrill laughter escaped me before I could stop myself, and I lowered my eyes to the rumpled covers of my bed, shaking my head. I should just give up; there was no way I could figure this guy out.
"What, so now you suddenly care?"
"Should" being the operative word. I suppose the fact that my mouth refused to stay shut proved I was more stubbornly inquisitive than smart.
"Yeah, 'cause now I know what a sweetheart you are, FitzEvan."
Once again, I found myself unable to tell whether or not he was joking. Since no decent person would joke about what I had been through, I erred on the side of "yes" and I flung my narrowed eyes back on the Turk, only to find he was watching my hands with that same, strange expression he'd shown when I screamed at him earlier. Following his gaze, I found a damp, misshapen wad of tissue paper in my fingers. I had grabbed one from the box without thought.
The realization that I'd technically accepted his peace offering took the wind out of my sails. I gaped at it for several seconds before snapping my mouth shut and turning away in a huff.
"Yeah, well, you sure aren't one," I grumbled like a sullen child. I tended to lose all claim to eloquence when flustered, something Reno reveled in with particular glee. This time, however, his reaction was different.
"Guess ya might be right 'bout that."
Perfectly calm, as if he was agreeing on nothing more important than, say, my opinion of the wallpaper. A sense of unease crawled up my spine. What was going on? Was it all part of his little test?
A key card, he'd said. A chance to flee this place, he'd hinted, were I to take it off him. To be honest, the thought hadn't even occurred to me. I had stopped plotting escape long ago. Besides, I'd paid enough attention to my environment to know that key cards needed codes to work. How would I get Reno's code? Torture? Yeah, right. I'd be sick before ever getting as far as laying a finger on him.
And even if I broke free, where would I go? Perhaps loitering in a ward for months on end had made me too complacent, but I found the comforts of my current surroundings to be much more preferable to the great unknown beyond the exit; even when they included a bored redhead with too few distractions.
No, I wasn't one to use force to reach my goals; unlike my unreadable company. My thoughts returned to Reno's earlier remarks. I wondered how he would stop me if I tried to attack him, but I didn't doubt that he would do so. Beneath the nonchalance, I sensed an alert mind at work. Not the academic intelligence I was used to engage with, but an almost predatory cunning. A devious mind, well-adapted to trickery; one that was more than capable of coming up with ways to subvert the failings of a damaged body. After all, his injuries hadn't stopped him from smuggling himself into a high-security ward, time and time again.
"If you're not going to leave, then what the hell are you planning to do?" I snapped, trying to conceal my nervousness with hostility. "Hug me and tell me it's all going to be alright?"
The corner of the Turk's mouth tugged higher as he slouched further back into his chair, steadying his bandaged chest with his good hand while he settled into a more comfortable position.
"And give ya just cause to kick me in the nuts for sexual harassment? I don't think so, babe."
I was amazed Reno was familiar with the term. It's not like he bothered to let it influence his actions.
"Barging into my room and refusing to leave isn't harassment, then?"
He just quirked an eyebrow at my accusation.
"I ain't blockin' the way out, am I? You can just leave whenever ya want, y'know."
"And then you'll follow me again."
"Well, yeah," he admitted with a sly grin that undid his preceding, half-hearted stab at sincerity. "You really should've left me lyin' on the floor all night, y'know. Throw a dog a bone and he'll keep comin' back for more, yo."
So, Reno knew I'd made the call after all. I should have guessed as much. Would I have done it, had I known he would come back to hound me with such tenacity?
Probably. Curse my bleeding heart.
I snorted and shook my head. "No good deed goes unpunished, huh."
"More like one good turn deserves another, babe."
As much as I would have liked to keep the anger boiling in his presence, it had begun to drain away. A fatigue took its place, shoving lead into my limbs and a heaviness into my heart. Still, I made some pretense of keeping up antagonistic appearances.
"You call this a good turn?"
"Sure. Not everyone gets the pleasure of seein' my good-lookin' face every day, yo."
He grinned and winked.
"Oh, for the love of...," I mumbled tiredly and covered my eyes. "What on earth were you doing there anyway?"
"Earth?" Reno echoed with sudden interest.
How easily such phrases slipped out. It was comforting, in a way; if nothing else, it proved that if I'd just made it all up, I had at least done a damned good job of it.
"Uh, Gaia," I hasted to correct myself with a dismissive wave of my hand. "Whatever."
I held my breath, worried that my slipup would launch him into interrogation mode. There was a brief silence, but when the injured Turk broke it, it was in response to my enquiry instead of posing questions of his own.
"Wanted to crash on the couch and tried to find somethin' to use as a blanket. Just my luck that some dumbass had put all that stuff on the top shelves."
The crinkle of cellophane made me look up again. A battered carton of cigarettes had appeared and spun around in a restless pattern in his agile fingers.
"Why?" I asked, following the packet with suspicious eyes. He wasn't going to smoke in my damned room, was he?
"Why what?"
"Why would you sleep on the couch? It isn't that comfy, especially with a broken leg."
"Eh, y'know," he said with a shrug. "It's quiet here. There was too much goin' on where I was s'posed to sleep. Couldn't catch any shuteye with everyone runnin' around all the time, yellin' and screamin'."
"Oh," I nodded, stifling a small yawn, "because of the sector seven bombing, right?"
The cardboard box paused mid-pirouette.
"Yeah. That."
His tone of voice made me look up. Something clipped, almost reserved, had slipped into it, but when my eyes reached his face, they were greeted by the customary wry smirk.
"Well, I guess it's 'bout time I gave ya a break," Reno declared in his usual drawl. "Don't want ya to OD on my hotness. Too much of a good thing, y'know."
I blinked at the abrupt change of subject, then threw my head back and groaned.
"Do you ever stop being such a smug jackass?"
He just snickered and began to maneuver himself out. As the door was closing behind him, the redhead threw up one hand in a cursory wave.
"'Til next time, Fitz."
With a deep sigh, I let myself flop down onto my back, then hissed when a sharp corner of the cardboard box dug into my arm. I yanked it out from under me and during a brief inner debate on whether or not I should keep the tissues nearby, I realized I didn't need them anymore. The tears had dried.
I lay on my back for a while, turning the box around in my hands, inadvertently mimicking Reno with his pack of smokes as I mulled over the encounter. I had assumed I was just a cheap source of entertainment for a cruel man with far too much time on his hands, but he had been just as stubborn about dealing with the mess he'd made as he'd been about riling me up in the first place. Technically speaking, there had even been an apology. Sort of.
It made no sense. What the hell was the man up to?
The next time he returned, Reno tossed something at me as he approached.
"Hey, brought ya this."
I caught the book just before it landed in my face. I shot him an annoyed glance, then took a closer look at the item in my hands.
"The rookie gave it to me, but I ain't much for readin'," he explained.
"'Inferno of Extermination: A SOLDIER's Tale of Vengeance'," I read out loud.
The cover featured a ruggedly handsome man in some kind of a uniform that left his muscular arms exposed for admiration. He was striking a heroic pose while wielding a huge sword in his gloved hands. The "SOLDIER", presumably. I wondered why it was so popular to capitalize that word around here.
"Yeah, I dunno what the hell," the redhead sniggered. "I hope it says more 'bout the rookie than her opinion of me, yo."
Whatever it was, it would make a welcome change in reading material. I had mushy love stories coming out of my ears.
"I'll give it a go. Thanks."
I didn't anticipate the effect my automatic thank-you had on the man. He looked taken aback; then, for the first time, Reno was the one who averted his gaze.
"Hey, no prob," he mumbled.
I sent him a wary look, perplexed by his awkward reaction.
"What?"
"You shouldn't thank me."
After the curt statement, the Turk turned his chair around and began to wheel himself toward the exit at a swift pace.
"Gotta go, Fitz," he called over his shoulder.
From jokes to something akin to embarrassment and onward to the cold shoulder, all in less than a minute. The man's mood swings made my head spin.
I sighed, looking over the book's cover once again. So, Reno was bringing me gifts now? What was this, guilt? Remorse? Some demented Gaian courting ritual?
An attempt to set me at ease, more likely; to cajole me into lowering my guard. The last couple of visits went beyond staving off boredom and sidled into unfamiliar territory – for me, that is, but perhaps not for the redhead. Reno was a wily one; it would surprise me more if he didn't have a hidden agenda.
