A/N: A bit more than three drabbles' worth! Written for sparklyscorpion and inspired by Howard McGillin--he has one of the angriest unmaskings I've seen, and I love it.


Reflex

I continued to seethe in anger, even as the soft sounds of her weeping reached my ears. I glanced up to where Christine lay curled in a ball on the floor, her slight frame trembling in what I could only imagine to be fear. Though some small part of me still wished to comfort her after what she had done, when I finally spoke it was to rebuke her, my voice reduce to a growl. Surely she had dreamed up some beautiful thing, some true angel, and not the foul creature that crawled along his belly simply to be near her, who begged her to see the man that languished behind his beastly exterior.

I watched her struggle to sit up, to look back at me…but any foolish optimism I could have cultivated was dashed when I lowered my hand from my face and she turned away from me once more. Anger succumbed to bitter tears, and I could not bear to look at her any longer. A movement in the corner of my vision startled me and I instinctively drew back, a reflex bred out of a lifetime of abuse.

Christine held the mask out, her hand steady although her eyes were uncertain. I stared at her for a long moment, half expecting her to snatch it away when I moved to take it, but she merely watched in silence as I eased it back into place. Already I felt calmer, as if some sense of control were restored along with my mask. She was looking up at me, her eyes dry now, and I reached out to touch her. Though she did not pull away, the memory of her horrified expression stilled my hand. I seized her wrist and urged her to her feet; it was time to return her to the world of the living.