A/N: Thank you for all your thoughts on the last chapter!
Chapter Eleven – Touch
Raven staggered to her feet as she heard running footsteps coming towards her. She wiped her mouth with the back of her hand and fixed her face so that the pain was locked away inside.
"Rebecca, are you alright?"
"I'm fine," said Raven. She could not trust herself to say too much when all she wanted to do was scream. Teri, her colleague, moved to take her gently by the arm but Raven pulled away. She was not ill enough for that.
"You're not fine," said Teri, "I think you should go home. I can cover for you. Do you want me to call a taxi?" Raven nodded. Teri might have been a human but she had her uses.
The taxi smelt of dogs and weed. The driver kept screeching to a halt, failing to notice the agony he was putting his passenger through. Raven kept quiet. She began to count in her head. When she reached one hundred she started over again. She was so focused on her counting that she failed to notice that the taxi had come to a halt.
"Hey, you alright, darlin'?" Raven's eyes snapped open.
"I'm fine."
She got out and looked around, barely registering the sound of the taxi pulling back onto the road behind her. The buildings were unfamiliar, even the scent in the air was different. Teri had presumed she was going home, but Raven had resisted all temptation and forced herself to tell the driver the name of a building on the other side of town. A piercing voice in her head was screeching Eric's name but she remembered the last time she had been weak and vulnerable too vividly. Eric had not taken care of her then. The pain was rising like a torturous crescendo but she would not let it win. Not this time. 'By the time I get home the pain will have gone,' she told herself and she began the long walk back to her side of town.
She had not told him what time she would be back, so Eric waited watching the clock on the wall count the seconds. The evening set in, lights all around came on. The light from them alone kept the living room bright enough to see by but Eric got up and turned the main light on anyway. He did not want Mystique to come home to darkness, she had already done enough of that. As he waited, he thought. Only this morning he had been resigned to a worthless existence, perpetually drowning in memory and unhappiness, but since Mystique had found him he could feel a part of him he thought had died begin to stir. His life was not over. There was still purpose. There was still hope. All he needed to do was make her see that too.
The sound of a key turning in a lock gave Eric an unexpected rush of pleasure. He turned to greet the returning Mystique but the greeting died at the sight of her. Her face was pale, almost waxen in the yellow light. She stood tall but Eric noticed the way her hand shook as she placed her keys down. Eric was on his feet in an instant.
"My dear, whatever is the matter?" He moved to take her hands as he had so often done in the past but she pulled out of his reach, her face scowling.
"I'm fine," she said without looking at him. Eric watched her move past him. She had not let him touch her.
The pain had receded but it had not disappeared, Raven could still feel it twisting her insides, a gentle reminder of what waited for her. She wanted Eric to stop looking at her. She wanted him to stop thinking she was frail; he would not be taking advantage of her again.
"Mystique, I can see something's wrong. You never used to lie to me." Mystique's head snapped up and for the briefest of instants her eyes shone with the yellow light of fire.
"You think you know everything, don't you? Look at you. You're no one, you're nothing. I never used to lie? You never used to make me." And with that she whipped round, and disappeared into the bedroom leaving Eric reeling from her unexpected diatribe.
Two hours later and she was still awake. Her heart was still thudding, it had not stopped since she had snapped at Eric. There was a feeling of power mixed in with the guilt but she did not want it, she used to feel powerful by his side, she had never felt powerful without him. Part of her wanted to take her words back, erase them from his mind, but another part wanted to shout them louder, tattoo them into the air and watch them burn into him. Did he care? Was he sorry? He hasn't said sorry.
She slipped out of bed, her bare feet silent on the threadbare carpet. The door opened silently. She knew how to be stealthy, that was another thing they could not take from her. All the lights were off but the curtains were still open. By the light of the world outside, Mystique could see him lying on the sofa, eyes closed, asleep. Her heart flew from her chest and went to settle by his, pulling her body along behind. How could a man be so heartless and still possess a power great enough to make her forget? She made herself stop before she got too close, because if she got too close she knew she would not be able to pull away. He was the spider, she was the fly, and his web was made of promises, memories and lies. How often had she watched him sleep? How often had she been the one curled up beside him? When she exhaled, her chest squeezed tight. She took a silent step forward then knelt down. His hand was lying on the sofa cushion so close to her. She knew that hand so well. In her mind's eye, she saw the power a mere flick of that hand could have and then she remembered the tender way he used to touch her. Would it ever be like that again? Could she let it happen again?
Her own hand did not look the same. She wondered if it felt the same. Gently, very gently, she inched her hand closer to his. All she wanted was to touch him again, feel him again…love him again. Her fingertips brushed his skin as lightly as a breeze, or a kiss. He stirred, the gentle touch rippling through his unconsciousness to manifest itself in dreams. Mystique stood and disappeared back to the bedroom, silent as a shadow. When she closed her eyes, hoping for sleep, all she could see was him.
A/N: Poor Mystique. Not having an easy time of it, is she?
