CHAPTER TWELVE
Weak in the Knees
It was a dance, the way they moved around each other, vibrantly aware of the other's existence, but refusing to touch. Ace pushed towards her, and Piper pulled away. He was a lodestone, magnetically charged to an overwhelming degree, and Piper was the iron filings, the bits and pieces of her essence that lay dormant around the house, strongly attracted to his pull.
She followed him at a distance, further than a shadow and cloaked herself in the wings of the dim lights. He moved through the rooms like water, disturbing the still surface of her now-life, breaking the peace with his echoing ripples. What did he see through his eyes? What did he smell?
The paintings were unchanged, the chandeliers shone. But the kitchen had been rearranged, the utensils and the decor switched around to suit her practical needs. And there was a vase of Aerrow's flowers, a rainbow of tulips, on the breakfast table.
Belatedly, Piper remembered the pair of green trainers in the closet of the front foyer that did not belong to her. Upstairs, a baggy sweater that was not her size, that smelled of aftershave and needed to be washed. And a foreign toothbrush in the ensuite bathroom, that was the colour of red.
There were framed pictures on the dresser of her bedroom that were either missing, or turned around.
Panic seized her, and Piper had to sit down on the bottom stair that lead upstairs, clutching her chest. Ace could not see these things, and she had been late in removing them. If he saw how easily (No, not easily) she chose to forget him it would break his heart.
But for all her brave thoughts, the woman could not move fast enough. Because if she within proximity, the attraction began again. The physical desire to pull him close, and recklessly forgive him. But that wasn't right, and it wasn't fair. Piper deserved more than that, and Ace had broken her heart thrice over. She was angry and confused, and wanted it all to go away. If he left, maybe the hurt would leave with him too. Nevermind it would make her miserable, she could get by on her own, right?
Right?
He repulsed her, it was clear.
As silent as he could be, Ace stripped off the tattered pieces of fabric that constituted his clothing, and grunted with the effort. The faded articles were horribly filthy, a black spot of mold in a bathroom so pristine. The mirror caught Ace's eye, and the stranger that stared back was disgusting to look upon.
She hadn't said a word.
There, he could see it. A stern mouth that had forgotten how to smile. A shrunken body much too thin. Rough skin stretched over the shape of muscle and bone. No body fat so spare. He looked old. Physically he was all necessity, and nothing more. His physique was not handsome by any means. Certainly ugly.
His eyes, shining brilliant red eyes that lanced fear in many, were dulled. The shadows of the Wastelands resided there, a mental storm front underneath the facade he struggled to maintain once he walked through that front door.
Ah yes, the house. Once his house. Not much had changed and yet everything was different. The lights, the smell. Even the accumulated dust. All foreign to him. There was a floral scent in the air he didn't recognize, in the direction of the kitchen. Doors were opened that under his watch, remained closed. And when he walked into the master bedroom, his suspicion became stronger. The walk-in closet remained bare of his clothes, and on the dresser wedding photos had been turned around.
It was enough to know.
And here in the bathroom, the subtle changes were similar. The towels and linens were kept in the same spot, but he didn't recognize the hair treatments and lotions arranged neatly in their appropriate baskets.
The baskets were Piper's idea. She loved to organize, he recalled, and her diligence to maintain a ship-shape household fitted well with his lifestyle, because he was like that too. Or at least, he was. Now, he wasn't sure where he fit into her life after being absent for so long, or if she even wanted him back.
The reflection tried to smile, and the mouth turned into an upward curve, but there was no feeling in the motion.
He flicked the light switch off, plunging the bathroom in darkness. Naked now, he left the dirty rags on the clean floor, and felt goosebumps form all over. The air was much cleaner in Atmosia, but colder and wetter. It felt heavy to one acclimated to the low pressure of the Wastelands. It felt like drowning in open space.
Now, in a hollow place where the brightness did not blind him and the gloom was familiar, he stepped into the shower. This cave held soap and water, not dirt and stone. Here, he would wash away the memory of servitude. Furiously scrape away the years take from him, layer by layer, and scour the taint from his person til the white of his tendons showed.
His soul hungered for purity, wordlessly screamed in agony for the baptism denied, and wanted the three years lost to wash away like the muddy colour of his skin, and funnel down the drain forever.
He scrubbed. And scrubbed.
The stream of water pounded against his back, much too hot to enjoy, but he didn't care. He needed heat, that familiar burn, to clean him. Because the man had seen how Piper stared and said nothing. She had stared, and not opened her arms to him. He even knelt before her and was rejected.
It was no homecoming he dreamt of; he was not welcome in his own home.
-Then again, this can't really be called your home anymore, can it?
Ace slammed his palms against the dark blue tile and let out an anguished cry. A hopeless yell from his parched throat. It hurt. God, it hurt so much. A cold fire sliced through his belly, unnaturally dark, and consumed him from the inside. The man wished he wasn't made of soft pink flesh, of feelings and emotions. He wished he was made of the same stuff that he carved and chiseled for months and months.
Nothing felt real, his body didn't feel real in these terrible, familiar surroundings. His reflection didn't match the mental image of himself. He was old. Old. No longer sure of his identity, no longer handsome in the eyes of the one he loved. Old and haggard and unwanted.
He had seen it in the toothbrushes, of all things. There were two toothbrushes in a holder above the sink, blue and red. The colour identified the owner by the colour of their hair. His was missing, and there was only one man who mattered whose locks matched the shade of the second toothbrush.
And he was – unwanted. Spent so much time dreaming about Piper during his imprisonment, he forgot time didn't stand still elsewhere.
Ace still loved her so much.
A man in hell held onto whatever emotion kept him alive; revenge, hatred, love. If he didn't, the despair and hopelessness crept in and stole everything, body and mind. Those were the true thieves of time, working on the spirit from the inside, burrowing into the recesses of humanity and crawling their way to the surface of the skin as the soft insides decayed into heavy rot.
He held onto the image of Piper like a Madonna figure, gave his life into her hands and bowed low before her, clutching her ankles in desperation. Poured all his faith into her, a sacred repository for his emotions as he toiled under Lenore's instruction. She became his shadow, his ghost during those years. He needed a companion to keep him sane. Remember who he was. Conjured her from his diluted well of imagination to keep him company, to assuage the guilt and fear of leaving his wife behind without explanation.
He had talked to this imaginary Piper, rehearsed long speeches in her presence, and imagined her responses. He told her everything, and recreated special memories of their many first times. Regaled personal stories just to see her laugh and smile. Their first date he told from his point of view, then the first time she came to visit his house. The memory of exploring her skin.
He was much like Lenore in that aspect, conversing with imaginary things. A mother who often talked of - and to - her dead, murdered daughter. A husband who pined for his wife. The Wasteland loved no one, and so they were both alone.
In the Wastelands he argued with her too, figments of guilt and anger. A hateful Piper, one who didn't believe his sincerity. He abandoned her, she hissed, so she abandoned him. He meant nothing now. She had taken another man as her lover, and he lived in her house, and she was going to have his child. She had suffered enough under his care, and found a flowering spring in Aerrow's embrace. It was entirely his fault. He held her back. His pain had been for nought.
Those were the worst imaginings, only equal to the irrational fear that Piper would fall ill in his absence, weak from grief and loneliness, and fade away. Or a fatal accident during a Storm Hawk mission, and her friends were not there to save her. He pictured Piper lying in a spreading pool of black blood, impaled upon a metal-tipped spear, the life ebbing from her as the pulse slowed.
For Piper remained a part of the military force, forever a Storm Hawk against his deepest wishes, and the Dark Ace had many enemies. His wife, if he could still call her that, had them too, and together they inherited the danger of loving someone's enemy.
Did he still matter? Ace didn't know. What he did know was the heat of the endless shower, the weariness in his frame, and the empty look in Piper's eyes that cleaved his heart in two.
Piper's emotions were in turmoil. Her mind in shock.
What does one do when suddenly faced with the living presence of a ghost? Who was in fact, not a ghost at all?
The woman followed him at a distance, maintained the blurred edge of his shadow at the edges of her peripheral vision, wary of the thrumming, magnetic pull of something she refused to name. She heard him enter the bath, the one adjacent to the master bedroom, while she retired to the kitchen. Felt uncomfortable there with the coloured tulips repeatedly catching her eye.
She imagined Ace looked amongst her belongings, gaining a sense of surreal reality, and he dripped with sadness.
So she followed up him upstairs, very much afraid of what she might find. He could be laying in bed, filthy as he was, or he could be hiding in the closet. He was so thin now, and she knew he was capable of slipping into the darkness if he didn't want to be found. A hand clutched her new necklace, trembling slightly.
There was a hard thump from above, closely followed by an angry yell, and Piper's heart leapt into her throat. Had he fallen? Was he well? What kind of pain was he in, and did she need to take him to a doctor? A flurry of a thousand and one potential scenarios whirled inside her, and tears pricked at the corners of her eyes as Piper flew up the stairs, hurried for the bathroom door and slammed it wide, dreading the worst.
A pitiful sight greeted her, one she saw through the curls of steam that gathered all around her. The heat of the milky clouds struck her face like a bending wall, dampened the fine hairs of her upper lip, and clung to her eyelashes.
Ace's silhouette was twisted into a tight, human ball.
"Are you hurt?" The words spilled from her mouth before she thought about them. And not thinking, the woman surmised, was the best thing for now. Overloaded with too much information – emotion, and not knowing how to process it, she decided to ride that colossal wave and see where it took her.
Her clothing fell to the floor.
I don't know how to feel. I'm sorry. I feel everything... and I don't know what to do. I don't know what to do...
Long, brown legs stepped onto the wet tile, and her body hit the spray of hot water, beating at her face and hair. Ace was curled into himself, knees drawn up to his chest, his damp head buried in his arms as he squatted above the slippery floor. The shower was a diversion to his pain, the rolling water hid the anguish and quite possibly the tears. The sound of rushing water blurred his dry sobs.
Please don't be like this. Come back to bed, I'll even help you dress. I'll take care of you. I still care about you.
Within the confines of the dark cave of his mind, Piper stepped over his set boundaries and sought him out blindly. In reality, Piper closed her eyes and bent down, her arms seeking his frame. She touched his back, fingertips brushing over the sharp ridges of his spine and patted her way upwards to his hunched shoulders. She wrapped her wet, naked body around his in a light embrace.
Ace stiffened, then loosened under her tenuous hold. In a gesture that surprised her, he turned around and placed his arms around her in return. It felt so sincere, so unguarded with their lack of clothing and the noisy rush of the shower that became the roar of the tumultuous sea in their sensitive ears. There was nothing to separate their bodies, except their own inhibitions.
Don't think about it. Don't think, Piper. Just feel.
Gently, ever so gently, Piper rose to her feet, taking him with her. So emaciated. He couldn't meet her eyes, filled with raw emotion, and if he did she was sure the tears would flow freely. Both his and hers. She remembered his eyes were a stunning shade of red, the windows to his soul. So intense they stole her breath when he first looked her way and thought her beautiful.
"D-did you hurt yourself?" She spoke but made no move to inspect his hands. Perhaps there was blood, but she couldn't look – she refused to check because that required thinking. And no thinking right now. Just let it flow. He didn't act physically injured, so she didn't look at his hands, or his face, or anything that would pull their gazes together. Don't even go there, Piper. There is time for all that later, but now - now -
"I love you," he blurted out. Ace's throat throbbed with emotion, husky and low. He spoke to her, but not at her.
Piper wanted to die. The raw sincerity in his voice threatened to drag her down to a place that frightened her. Her heart picked up its heels, and started sprinting for miles.
"I love you," he repeated, stronger now, urgent. Believing it to be true. Whatever was going on in Ace's thoughts, it was driven and would not stop.
The pounding in her head intensified.
Faintly, in the back of their minds they still felt the hot water, raining down on their naked bodies, and by extension, their surroundings. The walls were wet, the floor was cold. The heat drugged their limbs, whispering seductively to let it all go. Close your eyes and drown in a long, profound sleep. Anything to stop the endless tumble of emotion. It would be easy, standing in the midst of those curling, steaming clouds. Exhaustion sank through their porous skin, the type that was more than physical.
They both ached for rest, but Piper was hesitant to grab it.
Moments felt like minutes, hours. Each second contained an hourglass of infinite sand. Ace studied Piper's body; noted the toned calves, the soft, small breasts, the slight curves of her hips. The length of her dark blue hair that looked almost black when it was drenched in water. She looked rounder, softer around the edges, and must have gained a few pounds. Rivulets of clear water trailed down her front, rolled downwards between her breasts, and dipped into the curve of her stomach.
She looked good. She still looked gorgeous.
His eyes drifted upwards towards her collarbone, then the slender column of her neck, shining and wet. The line of her jaw, her pink lips, the shape of her mouth as she breathed. He caressed the swell of her lower lip with the pad of this thumb without careful thought. Curled the palm of his hand against her wet cheek.
Piper exhaled, a drawn out sigh, and her eyes fluttered closed.
Her pounding heart became very still.
Then entirely out of feeling, Ace kissed her. She hadn't asked him too, but she looked like she definitely needed one. He needed one.
Ace pressed his lips against hers, a chaste touch, and waited.
Piper's fate was sealed in that instant. All the painful feelings of the past and now, seeing her husband barely alive before her, the upheaval of what his return meant – it was nothing against this. Nothing at all because none of it mattered.
A tidal wave of emotion swept her off her legs like a tsunami, and her knees failed her. Completely helpless, she wobbled in Ace's arms, glad for his firm embrace and the artificial rain that hid her tears. Her chest seized painfully, every nerve of her body split open down the middle and exposed her raw – and this stupid, simple kiss was everything. One kiss equalled a promise that everything would be all right.
She sobbed a little, stifling the sound with much difficulty, and he might have teared up as well. Ace was blinking furiously, his red eyes shining brightly with unquestionable faithfulness.
But first, Piper needed more kisses from him. Just – just to make sure.
And under that continuous spray of water, they shared kisses back and forth. Something inside them clinked and locked together in finality. It felt like coming home after a long, bad day. Their chests pressed close, their stomachs slick and wet. Brown arms squeezed Ace's waist, ensuring he stayed close to her. He remained.
How did she ever entertain the thought of another taking his place?
Aerrow. Oh, poor Aerrow. Guilt speared her body, burned her cold. He would be heartbroken, and it was all her fault. She couldn't be with him, not after this. Maybe it meant the end of their friendship, for first loves are always the hardest to overcome, but the sacrifice was one Piper was willing to make. And she would take it.
Don't stop, she wanted to say as she slipped her tongue inside his mouth and heard him groan. His hands gripped the sides of her head and deepened the kiss further. He needed her, and she needed him, and that was all. Don't stop kissing me. Don't leave me again. Don't leave, don't leave, don't go. I need you. I love you. I want you.
Don't leave me alone.
Yes, she would willingly hurt her boyfriend, her best friend, if it meant having her husband back. It would have to be done. It was selfish and cruel, but that's what her soul ached for, and he would have it. This man owned her heart forevermore.
And somewhere between their lips and their hearts, she spoke.
"I missed you."
