Conversations through locked doors

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Nadia…

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I don't know what to do. I can't stay in the bathroom forever- it might look kind of weird and I might start getting hungry soon- but I really don't think I can go out and face him either. How can I go back into that room and look at that bed that we just had sex in like nothing happened?

He might be good at keeping his feelings hidden, turning them on and off, but I'm not.

My tears are drying now, I'm just.. hurt I guess. Confused. How can he kiss me like that, make love to me like that, and then say it shouldn't have happened? Surely the feelings that have been brewing between us can't all be one-sided, not just in my head?

I stand up shakily and wash my hair and my mind's spinning, re-living what just happened between us like a CD stuck on repeat. Which is a bad idea. I mentally command myself to stop thinking. To get angry. I mean, he's made it quite clear it's never going to happen again. I switch the shower to cold, a good dose of freezing water is just what I need to regain some clarity in this situation.

I'm just switching off the shower when he knocks at the door brusquely.

"What?" I yank the dial viciously and wrap my towel around myself.

"If you're planning on hiding in there all night, I don't think that's a good idea."

"At least then you'll know where I am."

"It might be best if you come out here, so we can talk about what just happened."

his voice is level, direct.

"I don't think that's a very good idea, do you?" I retort. "Don't worry, I'm not crying again." I wrap myself in my towel and rest against the door in frustration, trying to regain some composure.

"Please Nadia, I don't want to have this conversation through a locked bathroom door."

"I can't look at you right now."

I can almost hear him getting angry as he drops the calm voice- well, it was only a matter of time, "why? You were the one that said it was a mistake"

"You said it shouldn't have happened first!" I snap by way of retaliation as I squeeze the water droplets from my hair and gaze bleakly into the mirror. The fluorescent lighting gives me a deathly yellow pallor. Terrific. This night's just getting better and better.

"You called it a pity fuck!" he yells, his voice getting even louder, "is that all I am to you? Is that what you see me as?"

I still in bewilderment. What?

He's silent now too. Then when he speaks again, his voice is cold. "Answer the question."

"I wasn't talking about you," I mumble, confused and a little offended that he could ever think that I'd feel that way about him, "I was talking about me."

He's silent again. "What?" he finally asks, sounded totally shocked.

"I didn't want you to make love—I mean, have sex with me out of sympathy," I say quietly, pressing my head against the door. "That was the last thing I wanted."

"Nadia I---" his voice falters; "I—I never---"

"I can't deal with this right now," I sigh, just wanting him to go away.

"You think that's what it was? Sympathy?" he finally demands, sounding uncertain.

"Wasn't it?"

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Doyle…

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"You think that's what it was? Sympathy?" I ask helplessly, clenching my fists as I rest my head against the door.

"Wasn't it?" her voice is soft.

I can't believe we're having this conversation and I can't believe she honestly thought that I had sex with her out of sympathy. Jesus. What kind of person does she think I am? More importantly, what kind of person do I think she is? Fuck, no wonder she said that stuff. She was trying to save face. I'd have done exactly the same thing. I should have realised. I'm clearly missing more than just a sensitivity chip right now. This is what happens when you let your libido take over.

Talk about miscommunication. A major case of crossed wires.

Looks like both of us have jumped to conclusions.

"Nadia… no."

"No?" she asks almost doubtfully but I can detect something that sounds kind of like hopefulness in her tone.

"No," I reiterate firmly, hoping that she'll believe me, "god… I would never, I mean.. with you.. it wasn't like that. I couldn't—it could never just be…" I swallow, uncertain of what to do or say.

"Then why?" she asks doubtfully. "Why did you kiss me—and then, um, y'know-- why did you say it shouldn't have happened?"

"Because— I kissed you… because I wanted you," I finally admit; and it's a relief to get it off my chest at last, "hell Nadia, I've wanted you for so long and being around you.. it's getting harder and harder.. when I'm around you I can't even remember my own name sometimes.." I rake my hand through my hair, beyond frustrated at my inaptitude to express myself vocally; "when I said it 'shouldn't have happened,' I didn't mean it shouldn't have happened, I meant.. it shouldn't have happened now."

She's silent and I continue, slightly comforted by the fact that she's not interrupting me, that she's listening to what I'm saying.

"Not like this... in some dingy motel room when all this other stuff is going on… when you could be in danger. God Nadia, if something happened to you because I was distracted I would never forgive myself."

Then I whirl around, my heart in my mouth, as there's a sudden knock on the door.

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Nadia…

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"Mike?" I say fearfully as he's suddenly totally silent.

I can't believe all that stuff he just said to me. Did he mean it? He sounded so sincere, I never heard him talk like that before.

Then I hear something that sends a little shiver down my spine- the clicking of the safety catch of his gun.

Someone's here.

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A/N: Sorry, this is shorter than I planned, but my computer crashed and I lost half of what I'd already written! Also- editing it on this site really doesn't agree with my laptop. Next chapter's a LOT longer and will be posted ASAP.