Day 19 – Assumptions

I don't know if I slept much last night or whenever. My internal clock is starting to falter and the concept of distinct days has lost its meaning.

But I do know that we must almost be there.

I'm still angry and frustrated, but my ankle prevents me from walking around and at least venting some energy. My finger is quite swollen from yesterday. I've heard Sydney moving around; pacing, and fidgeting. At least I can take some measure of satisfaction in the fact that she appears to be as restless as I am.

After a while I feel her hand on my shoulder. "Sark—"

But I shake her hand off of me. "What?" I try to sound angry but it comes out more tired than I intended.

"About yesterday…"

"Forget about it. I don't want to be some kind of a dilemma for you." I practically spit out the words.

"Dilemma?" she asks.

I turn around to face her though I can't see her. I guess some habits are just too hard to break. "I thought you wanted it as well but I guess I was wrong. That's fine. I don't want to be something you have to convince yourself of. Or even worse, I don't want to be some kind of charity for you."

"That's not…That wasn't the problem."

"So what are you talking about?" My voice is sharp and my anger clear.

She sighs and sits down next to me. "You would think that since it's been over two weeks I would be used to living in this darkness, but I'm not. Though I've accepted that I can't see, I still feel like you can. I guess I feel like, since I am thinking about things so often, you should be able to tell how I feel, but really how can you? You can't see me either."

I'm not sure what she's trying to say, but against my better judgment, I can feel hope slowly replacing my anger. "What are you trying to say?"

"That I was worried about you rejecting me."

"For god's sake Sydney why?"

She pauses for a moment. "Unless it is all a part of your act, and I don't think that it is, you are a man who always has everything exactly the way that you like it. You like the best of everything; wine, cars, clothes and I suspect women as well. You know exactly what your self worth is and it is like you will accept nothing less. Well especially at the moment, I feel so very less than perfect."

I am confounded. Is she insecure about the very reasons that make me want her? Because she is the best? Because she is more than I ever expected to find in another human being? Because I won't settle for anything less than her?

She continues. "I just don't know how you feel. You keep your thoughts and feelings so enclosed within you."

"Sydney—" I don't know what to say. "You are partly correct. I am very picky when it comes to choosing something for myself. Why then wouldn't I want you? You are smart, beautiful, courageous, and witty. You are sexy as hell and except for your tenacity when it comes to spiting me you are the perfect woman. Why would I reject you? I am the one that's unworthy in this case."

I hear her inhale sharply, but she doesn't speak right away. "You make me feel so foolish about this, but I couldn't handle things going any further and then having you push me away in disgust. We've been here for two and a half weeks, with nothing but the clothes on our backs and half a pail of disgusting water to drink out of." She pauses as if trying to gather her courage to go on. "Trust me, I don't feel like a human being…let alone like a woman worth being made love to." She tumbles out the last sentence quickly, like she is afraid to let the words reach my ears.

Part of me is shocked that she could think that of me, but then I remember that perhaps I am guilty of making the same assumption that she did. She assumed that I could read her emotions in her body language and perhaps I've done the same. Really all she knows about me is everything she learned prior to our capture and since then, only the things that I have told her.

Well perhaps it's time I showed her.

I lean forward and encircle her with my arms. She has a small body but her muscular build gives her some weight. All the same, I like the idea of showing her that I can pick her up with my arms. I put her in my lap before leaning over her and gently laying her back on the ground. My injured hand is cradling her head while my other hand quickly slips under her untucked shirt and rests on her waist.

"Sydney, Sydney." I whisper into her ear. "I wish I could make love to you on satin sheets with rose petals to tickle you with and champagne on ice beside us because that is what you deserve. You deserve so much more than my sweaty, dirty hands ripping off your clothes. But I can't—" I stop that thought before it goes any further. I don't want to think about the future and all that it will and will not hold. I realize that I am grasping her waist tightly but this time she shushes me. She lays her cold hand on my face and that is all the invitation that I need.

Because really, I am an animal. The fancy clothes, the fine wines, they are just part of the outer shell of a man who tries to anesthetize his life of blood and torture; pain and death.

They are only the disinfectants that I use to try and sterilize my life with. Because I need my life to be clean and precise. I need it to be cold and unattached. Like a surgeon cutting away a tumor from healthy flesh, I need to separate my life from myself. In my life, I need to not feel.

But now I want to taste the sweat upon her neck. The sweat is there from her exertion. I want to touch her skin and feel the scab from the scar across her cheek. Her skin is soft and that scar is an intruder. I want to touch all of her, the real her. Not the disinfected her.

I want to feel something real for the first time in so very long.

My hand moves up from the spot on her waist to cup her breast. She's not wearing a bra so I can feel her skin directly under my palms. I'm surprised, but not really. It was probably chafing her.

She moans softly as my calloused hand scratches her soft breast and I lay my kisses down her neck. This is it. This is me. In all my fine glory. I am dirty and sweaty, broken and dying, holding her tangled hair in my hand so that I can move her face towards me. So that she can't pull back this time when I kiss her. I keep our mouths closed, mindful of her insecurity, but it's enough that I can feel her lips under mine. The kiss is sweet heaven and I know that I am an animal.

But that's okay.

It's okay because I can feel her trembling as I lift her shirt and twist her sweet nipple with my mouth. I can feel her shivering as I undo her pants and slide my hand into her underwear.

I am an animal because I can feel her jerk when my hand touches her sweet flesh. I can hear her cry out as I tease her with my finger tips; around and around, alternating flicking and pressing.

I am an animal because I can feel, as my steel armor come crashing down around me. She moans as I slip two fingers inside her. I can feel and I want to revel in it.

She stops me by pulling my hand out from her pants so that she can remove them altogether before tugging at mine. There is an urgency to her movements that I can't resist. I let her remove my pants and push me back but the wall is now behind me so she has to be content with me sitting up against it.

I don't think it bothers her too much. She doesn't waste much time before moving herself so that she is sitting on top of me. She teases me mercilessly by rubbing herself along my already painful erection, but that doesn't last very long. Not as the final vestige of my control shatters and I grab her hips and force herself up so that I can enter her, all in one swift movement.

Oh, sweet heaven.

I want to stop and memorize everything, I want to permanently imprint this all into my soul but it just seems to be happening too fast now…or maybe it's just that I cannot concentrate…

But that doesn't matter. I can feel her rocking back and forth on me. I can hear her moans in my ears. I can feel her shallow breaths on my face. I move my hand back to the place she liked it the most and I help her along. But oh, it doesn't take much.

She leans back slightly to give me more access to her so I take advantage of it and tease her with my fingers. All it takes is a few sharp strokes before she grabs my shoulders and starts to dig her nails into my body. I can wait no longer. I pull her towards me in a fierce embrace before I start thrusting violently into her. I know I shout her name as I feel myself exploding within her, and I know that she is shouting as well.

…

We lie there for a few minutes; me sitting against the wall with my arms around her, Sydney leaning on my chest. My body growing limp inside her. We are drained and exhausted, but for the first time in so very long, I find feelings in myself that I had almost forgotten about.

Contentment.

Fulfillment.

Peace.

And not for the last time, I wonder why I waited so long to find them again.