8:29 AM
Through the haze of sedatives, fatigue, and disorientation that had constituted his life for what had seemed to be a day or two, Trowa felt someone roughly shaking him awake. He blinked his eyes open and saw a tired face with glasses and disheveled brown hair looming above him. " Who… " he began, but the young man clapped his hand over his mouth to silence him.
" Don't move, " he hissed urgently. " I'm Doctor Verdun. I'm a friend of Kiya's. There's an OZ outfit raising hell outside the door. Can you stand? "
Verdun dragged Trowa to his feet; he was able to stand with some assistance, but couldn't get himself across the floor. " Damn it, you can't walk, " he muttered. He propelled the half-paralyzed, half-sedated pilot across the room into a closet, hiding him behind boxes and a curtain of old dresses. " Don't move, don't speak, don't even breathe loudly, " Verdun warned. " If I don't come back here within an hour, I want you to take Kiya and get the hell out of here. Do you understand? "
Without waiting for a response, the doctor flashed him a quick two-fingered salute and shut the door, leaving Trowa in complete darkness. He leaned against the wall of the little closet and tried to pull his crumpled legs out from under him when his hand brushed against human flesh - a woman's hand.
Trowa sensed more than saw the figure stir in the darkness. " Who's there? " a familiar voice whispered.
" It's me, " Trowa replied.
" Trowa! " Kiya breathed a sigh of relief. " Thank goodness. "
" Thank goodness for what? "
" Thank goodness Basil had the sense to hide you somewhere too, " Kiya replied after a moment's hesitation. " OZ's running another house check; these buffoons like to pull house checks every so often, just when we all get cozy around here, to make sure we're not planning anything. Someone inside warned Basil about it an hour ago, and he stuffed me in here… I must have dozed off… I've been awake all night… "
Kiya's voice was soft and tired, sounding more and more oddly faraway with every word. Oh, no, Trowa thought. She can't sleep. She can't. " Kiya, stay awake, " he hissed. He listened to her soft, even breathing, and realized she'd already fallen asleep on him. He reached out to gently wake her, and his hand fell upon hers again. It was as accidental as the first time his hand had touched hers, only a few moments previous. But drugs had temporarily dulled his normally-sharp senses, and it was only now that the sensations hit him fully; her hand was cold and clammy on the surface, trembling from fatigue and perhaps even fright, but he could still feel vestiges of warmth pulsing through. And how in the world could anyone have such soft skin…
Surprised at himself, Trowa withdrew his hand quickly. " Wake up, " he hissed more harshly than he'd intended, feeling incredibly awkward.
" Huh? " Kiya woke with a start. " Oh. Sorry. "
" You can't fall asleep like that. If your friend the doctor doesn't come back, you have to be ready to get out of here. And you can't do that if you're asleep. "
" Me? What about you? "
" I can manage. "
" Manage, my foot. You're still hurt! "
" That is none of your concern. "
" Don't be stupid, Trowa. Of course it is. "
" Why do you insist on worrying about me? "
" Because I know you're not who you want us to think you are. "
" And how do you know that? "
" Because the evidence just doesn't add up. "
" I don't leave any evidence. "
" You're the biggest piece of evidence there is. "
" You don't know who I am. "
" Maybe I don't. But I trust you anyway. "
Trowa remained silent, unsure as to why anyone would let themselves be so vulnerable.
" Well? " Kiya asked impatiently.
Trowa opened his mouth to answer when he heard footsteps approaching up the stairs. Unable to speak, he slid quickly over to Kiya and covered her mouth with his hand. " OZ, " he whispered urgently, so that she understood, and the two of them sat, silent and huddled close to each other as the sound of boots trampling around the bedroom echoed hollowly through the little house.
Seconds ticked by in the dank stillness like hours as Kiya and Trowa crouched in hiding, one of Trowa's hands behind him, a firm grip around the small switchblade he kept hidden away for situations just like this, and the other arm wrapped about the girl, hand clamped firmly over her mouth. The boy slipped easily into the soldier's skin, his senses heightening with every step the army-issue boots outside took towards the little closet door. Muscles taut, eyes narrowed, fully ready and expecting the flood of morning sunlight at the opening of the door, completely focused on… completely focused?
Kiya's body was stiff with anticipation and fear against his own. Her breathing was labored, soft lips warm and wet against his callused hand. The scent of lilac on her jumper mingled with the faintly smoky smell of unwashed hair, mixing like perfume and filling his nostrils…
…why was he sitting mere feet away from possible death and smelling a girl?
The creak of the doorknob twisting open brought Trowa's full attention back to the situation at hand. A sliver of light threw itself onto two pale, shining faces, and as the sliver grew larger Trowa braced his half-numb feet against the floor…