Chapter Eight: Fool me twice

"What took you so long?"

Beka sat up in bed and stretched. She had slept later than she had in a long time. Maybe ever. She should be doing something about the situation, but what could she do? At least getting Pitch on her side would be more beneficial than running around like a headless chicken looking for a needle in a haystack. Besides, it was warm in bed and cold out.

"I had to go across the road. Canteen sandwiches are nasty. And then I ran into an old friend..."

Pitch put a paper bag down on the small table by the sofa and walked over to the bed. He was giving her a look that was impossible to interpret.

"What?"

"You in a hurry to get back?"

Beka felt her own smile widen.

"Well... I suppose..."

Suddenly there was a knock at the door. Pitch went to open it, and a young woman stepped into the room. She couldn't be a day over twenty, but her long hair was still all grey. When she saw Beka, she got a decidedly disappointed and hurt expression on her face, but didn't say anything.

"Jo, what's up?" Pitch said.

"Is Milon back yet?" she said, "It's been days! I've been trying to ring him, but he must have his comms off, because there's no answer... I'm getting worried..."

"Jo, you have to give him some space! He's been through a lot of shit. You don't have to worry, he can take care of himself y'know."

The girl just nodded unhappily and let Pitch more or less push her out the door. When he turned back to Beka, his face had taken on that stony expression again.

"Is that Milon's girlfriend?" Beka asked before she had time to think about it.

"No," Pitch was frowning at her now.

"Okay, I was just asking!"

"Get dressed."

He walked out into the kitchen, not even waiting for a reply. Beka felt a familiar feeling of annoyance bubble up inside her. Was this not the thing she had intended to steer clear of him for? The moodswings, the sudden turns from charming to a complete bastard. Well, she'd walked into this one with her eyes wide open. She climbed out of bed and pulled her clothes on. But if he thought for a second that she would let him order her around any more, he had another thing coming.

Pitch was standing by the kitchen counter, looking into thin air as the kettle was boiling. He didn't notice her stepping into the room. She simply could not resist the temptation of sneaking up behind him and poking him in the ribs for a laugh. But he didn't laugh, far from it. He spun around and pushed her away so hard that she was thrown across the room, slamming into the kitchen table. A dull pain spread across her back. That was going to leave a bruise.

"Fuck's sake! What'd you do that for!"

She could tell from his upset voice that he had reacted instinctively, not meaning to be so rough. Still, he ought to lighten up!

"You alright?"

He offered her a hand, but she was already halfway up off the floor. She was probably lucky he had not been trying to hurt her. He looked strong, but not that strong. It had been like being shot out of a cannon.

"I'm fine," she said, "but what the hell is your problem?"

"You took me by surprise, is all. Listen, you'd better head off. Find your mates. Take this..."

He pulled something out of his pocket and handed it to her. It was a small, plastic card with 'Visitor' printed on the front.

"That'll let you back into the lobby. Get the receptionist to give me a buzz. If I'm there, I'll come down. If not, wait."

"So you're not coming with me?"

She didn't even know why she was asking. It was just the way he was speaking to her, like there was nothing between them, no attraction. So totally different from yesterday.

"Why would I come with you? I've things to do."

And he turned his back on her again. Suddenly, Beka felt a sneaking suspicion that she had been tricked. Again. But no... no. She was usually not the type to fall for cheap tricks and lies. Still...

She ate her breakfast, and the feeling was growing steadily stronger. She noticed that he wasn't looking her in the eyes as much as he had before. And when he did, there was none of that... magnetism there. How could she have found him so irresistible only last night? If not...

"You did it again, didn't you?"

He looked up from his breakfast, looked into her eyes.

"Did what?"

"Lied to me. Used your ...whatever you call it on me."

A thin smile was forming on his face. Then he said:

"You knew all along. And you still wanted it... You're just as bad as me."

She slammed her mug down on the table and pushed her chair back. This was... too much. She had to get out now, before she ran the risk of pulling her gun on him. The fact that her anger only seemed amusing to him made it all the worse.

"Try it once more," she said, "you'll regret ever meeting me, I swear."

"Sure baby, whatever you need to tell yourself..."

Of all the smug, arrogant, conceited... Beka could feel her blood boiling. She'd better leave now. She'd better leave before this turned really ugly. She stormed out, slamming the door, leaving his mocking laugher behind.

It was about 11 am, local time, as Beka got back into the City Centre. With no money to pay for a taxi or even the Shuttle, she had been left with no other option besides walking. As things were now, the long hike suited her just fine. Following the solitary, cracked asphalt of the only road leading through the wasteland, the fury inside her gradually diminished. He wasn't even worth all this emotion! He was basically just a male slut who she'd decided to have some fun with and now it was back to business. Nothing to get upset about at all.

By the time she finally arrived in town, she had calmed down sufficiently to start planning what to do. First thing on the agenda was trying to locate Tyr and Harper. They should have enough sense to return to the place where they had last been together. The square outside the bar where Pitch had dragged her away. Then, after that, they could start looking for Milon.

To her disappointment, neither Harper nor Tyr was to be found at the square. They ought to have come back here! All she could do now was wait, and that was not one of her favourite activities. The big window that Pitch had thrown... -whoever the unlucky sod was -through, still had not been replaced. It looked out over the square like a big, blind eye. But the club would be a good place to wait, if only she'd had some money to buy a drink. Yeah, she could really use on right about now.

People were coming and going across the square, keeping their heads down, moving swiftly on to wherever it was they were going. The light in this place was so grey. Like the sun had never shone and wasn't planning to start now. It was depressing really. What a dump of a town.

She watched almost a whole episode of 'the Traveller' on the TV in the shop window. She hadn't really got to know Milon when he was on board the Andromeda, but he'd seemed nice. Obviously he'd got some hard knocks in his young life, but it didn't seem to have made him bitter or cynical, and that was quite refreshing. Tyr seemed to have really taken to him, although he would never admit to it, and Beka thought it would've been healthy for him if Milon had stayed. Might lighten him up a bit, metaphorically as well as literally speaking, she thought, remembering the blindingly strong light Milon had been capable of generating. But the one who had been saddest to see him go was Trance. She had been moping for weeks.