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Chapter 6

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"It's a pretty safe bet that neither one of us is going to sleep any time soon," Alina said to Mal's back, with conviction. "So I'm going to need you to turn around and talk to me." When he didn't move, she reached out and pinched the fabric of his shirt, giving it a tug. "Turn around," she demanded softly. Still no reaction. Alina reached out and grabbed Mal's shoulder, firmly pulling him in her direction. As she turned his upper body toward her, she felt a strong hand clamp down around her wrist, stilling her. After a moment, he released her, and turned away from her again.

"We obviously have a lot to talk about," Alina insisted.

"It's very late, Alina, and—"

"Quit talking to the wall. I'm over here." When he didn't respond, Alina sat up, looking down at the shadow of Mal's form. "Do you understand how unfair this is?" she asked, her voice gaining strength and volume. "For years, we've held each other at arms length. Every time we'd make progress, every time I would start to think we were getting closer—on any kind of personal level—one of us would routinely sabotage—"

"I did not sabotage—"

"—you would sabotage things by comparing me to a sister, or by calling me 'little' or immature, or hiding things from me, or parading other women around—"

Mal threw back the covers and stood up, grabbing his pillow as if he meant to leave and sleep somewhere else, despite the fact that they both knew 'somewhere else' did not exist within their current confines. "I hid things from you?" Mal spat, his voice suddenly loud. He backed up a pace, and Alina wished she could see his face. "You had power this whole time and you never-"

"Do you honestly think I knew the extent of this? And wasn't telling you?" Alina asked, leaning forward on the bed toward him, her hands spread palm-up in front of her like an offering. She refused to let him leave the conversation now that she'd gotten him talking. "How many things are you keeping from me right now?"

Despite the lack of adequate light and facial expression clues, Alina heard Mal's incredulity in his voice, and recognized his body language; his form tilting to the side while his head swung from side to side. "We've been arguing and frustrated since I found you at the Little Palace. This isn't us-this isn't how we talk to each other. This is the least amount of trust we've ever had between us. This is not the time for me to come clean about things I haven't said. This is not the time for me to lay my feelings out for you." he said harshly.

"What feelings?" Alina pressed.

Mal made a frustrated sound and flung his pillow back down on the bed.

"What feelings, Mal?" Alina repeated. She watched as he huffed a short, cynical laugh, but he didn't follow it up with an answer. He seemed uncomfortable, and Alina wondered if he regretted admitting as much as he had in the bathroom earlier. Probably.

"If I'd known you had feelings for me, I wouldn't have started anything with Aleksander," Alina said flatly. The words hung heavy in the air between them.

Mal swallowed thickly. "You don't know that."

"Don't insist that you know what I would've done. Do you know how frustrating it is, only having ten percent of the available information at any given time? Living with everyone actively hiding things from me is like fighting with one hand tied behind my back, blindfolded, and drugged. Not only is it impossible to win, but I end up looking like an ass in the process, and I'm hurt when it's all over." She gave Mal a pleading look that a small part of her brain pointed out that he couldn't see in the dark bedroom.

He didn't respond, and her frustration evolved rapidly into anger. "Everyone else lies to me and hides the truth because they want something from me. But I thought I could at least trust you to be honest with me! To let me in on your secrets! You brought up Aleksander tonight as some kind of sick segue in order to finally tell me how you feel about me. Can you even see how messed up this is?" Alina began angrily ticking points off on her fingers. "You embarrass me by judging my actions with a man I didn't know was evil at the time. You tell me you want me. You tell me practically every move you've made over the last ten years was in an attempt to keep me safe and happy. And then you tell me that my stupid, meaningless, emotionally confused time with Aleksander is the reason that you can't accept…" She paused, grasping for a euphemism. As much as she wanted to speak honestly and openly with the man in front of her, she wasn't quite ready to verbalize the extent of whatever it was she was comfortable with offering. "…that you can't accept… anything… from me." Alina sighed, her voice growing quieter again. "You waited until I did something to screw it up before you were honest with me. You waited until it was my fault that this couldn't happen for you, and then you brought me in on it. You said forty-eight hours between you and Aleksander; that's a really arbitrary number. In another day's time, are you suddenly going to switch back over to wanting me again? Is it going to be 'okay' then?"

Alina rose up on her knees, and slid forward to kneel at the edge of the bed in front of Mal. Feeling her way in the darkness, she touched his upper arm, and ran her fingers down until she found his hand.

"I didn't know something… potentially wonderful… was an option, and you waited until you had a reason to tell me I couldn't have it before you told me it was there." She tugged on his hand, but he didn't budge. "I understand that you feel you deserve to be denied. And I think there's more you're still not telling me." She tightened her grip and gave a harder tug, pulling him a step closer to the bed. He turned slightly, as if standing sideways offered more protection than facing her words straight on. "But what about me?" she asked. "Are you going to deny me things?"

Mal pulled away from her and walked to the foot of the bed, putting distance between them. "Yes. When it's for the greater good. For your own good."

Alina sighed and sat back, crossing her legs in front of herself. "Mal… you haven't asked what I wrote to you, these past months. You haven't asked me how I feel about you," she began. "And if you do care for me, it isn't fair for you not to offer me the chance… the possibility… of something that…" Alina trailed off. "I don't even know… I don't think I'm even comfortable describing what I assume a relationship with you would look like," she admitted darkly. "I have no context for it…"

"It would be a gift far better than I deserve, and yet I wouldn't be able to live with myself knowing I'd taken something so important away from the world," Mal said, his voice deep in the shadows of the room.

"Stop with the self-loathing!" Alina cried in exasperation. "I'm not 'better' than you! And you wouldn't be taking me from the world-what does that even mean-?"

Mal's form seemed to lose a little height as his shoulders sagged. After a moment of silence, he asked, "Do you honestly think arguing is going to solve anything right now?" His voice was hollow. "Is there a resolution to be had tonight? Can we get through everything we need to discuss, and confess, and apologize for? Here in the darkness?" He spread his arms in apparent surrender and defeat. "We could try to talk this out until the sun came up, but I doubt we'd reach an understanding that satisfied both of us. Our situation, outside this miserable little shack, is precarious, and if neither one of us gets any sleep tonight…" Mal's thought trailed off and he walked slowly back to his side of the bed. "The most we can hope for right now is a scant and probably fitful few hours, but I suggest we try to get what we can. We have a long day ahead of us tomorrow, and you'll have ample opportunity to continue… whatever this is. But I don't have the energy, Alina, to keep fighting you tonight." He looked down at where Alina sat, waiting for her to move and allow him space beside her. "May I join you?" he asked tiredly.

Alina knew he was right. Nothing more could be accomplished by the two of them pushing forward with exhausted outrage and unfiltered accusations. But the empty feeling in her stomach made her ache for an olive branch; she wished they had something small to share before they fell into silent, separate sleep, even if it was mostly symbolic.

Slowly, she slid backward, making room for him. She pulled her legs up toward her chest as he slipped under the blankets and adopted his earlier position, curled on his side at the edge of the bed, facing away from her.

Her eyes felt hot and dry, and she suddenly pushed off from the edge of her side of the bed. Mal said nothing, and if he reacted at all, Alina couldn't tell. Aiming herself in the direction of the door, she boldly walked blindly into the hallway beyond, trailing a palm along the wall on her way to the kitchen. She swung her hand out to the left and caught the edge of a rickety chair, allowing her to locate the bottle of water she remembered sitting on the table. She took three long swallows, and leaned against the wall beside her. It felt like exposed stone, and she turned her head to press her forehead to the cool surface.

Almost ten minutes later, she walked slowly back into the bedroom, rounded the bed to her side, and climbed in behind Mal. Without speaking, she moved forward until her body was pressed along the length of his back, her head on his pillow behind him. She moved her arm gently to drape over his waist, and covered his hand with hers. He tensed momentarily, but she was grateful that he didn't push her away.

After another minute, his chest aching, he moved his hand, giving hers a small squeeze.

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