On the third day the door opened and a smell assaulted her, a smell of some sort of food, meaty food with fat and protein and iron. Blood. Syl jumped out of bed without even turning around and ran to the bathroom, throwing up. But she hadn't eaten anything in three days, so nothing much happened except that her shoulders shook and she wretched and her throat hurt after she stopped. Gentle hands- Krit's hands- pulled her upward, took her clothes off, eased her into the motel room's disgusting bathtub. She sobbed as he washed her hair, as he cleaned off three days of grime from her skin- she stared at herself through her tears and was amazed at how she had gotten so dirty just lying in bed.
Afterward, he pulled the plug and helped her to her feet, wrapping a warm, soft, clean towel around her and putting an arm around her, walking her back into the other room and sitting her on the bed. He sat next to her and he had a sandwich with him, some kind of steak sandwich, full of nutrition. She tried to take it but she didn't have the energy so she just leaned her head against his shoulder and let him feed it to her in small, messy pieces. Finally she couldn't take it anymore and he put it down, let her sob into him. It was amazing how much energy she had expended just lying in bed, not sleeping or even crying very often, just lying there. And she was absolutely exhausted from it.
Krit took the blanket and wrapped it around her because she was shivering. He gave her some tryptophan, moving to sit behind her, and he swept her hair back from her face. Then there was a series of gentle tugs and pulls that didn't hurt at all. It took her a little while to figure out what he was doing.
"You know how to braid hair?"
"One of my foster sisters taught me," he said, the first words he'd spoken to her since he'd stormed out- since she'd driven him out- three nights before. Syl felt him tie off the braid with an elastic band and she leaned back into his arms, letting him hold her close. He gave her a soft kiss on the forehead and rocked her slightly, and soon she was crying again but it wasn't the same as before, it wasn't desperate sobs anymore. It wasn't happy tears either, but it was somewhere in between. It felt better than the tears she'd been crying before, and that was definitely something.
Syl didn't really know how long they sat there, how long he held her, until his arms ached probably, until he probably wanted nothing more than to get up and leave again. But he didn't. He just sat there and let her cry, let her sleep, let her wake up and cry some more. After… hours? a day? his cell phone rang. It was while she was in one of her half-asleep states that she'd passed in and out of the last couple of days. She felt Krit let go of her long enough to reach over to his jacket and get the phone. Everything had been darkness and silence and soft breathing up to that point. Then the ringing. Syl's eyes opened and she tried to focus on Krit's voice.
"The phone." He finally sounded intelligible; intelligible, but far away. His arms shifted and her head felt strange. He took a look at her and brushed the hair from her face, frowned. "You still groggy?" She tried to nod but didn't quite manage it. Krit held the phone to his ear and said, "Hello?"
"Where are we?" Syl asked, raising herself to glance out the window. She saw dark, generic scenery that gave her no indication of her whereabouts. She glanced at Krit and he had a strange look on his face because they were still in the same motel room, hadn't moved for the better part of a week, and he knew she knew that. The strange thing was, she knew she did too. Then the phone was being held out to her. She took it and asked, "Hello?"
"Hey." Softness and love and relief- I know that voice.
"Who's this?"
"Syl," Krit's voice was surprised.
"Syl," and so was Zack's. She gasped.
"Sorry, I've just been lying here too long," she said, and realized after a moment that he would have no idea what she was talking about. But she didn't want to explain. "You're alright?"
"I'm fine."
"Where are you?"
"In Canada."
"Zack, Tinga's gone back there just like Brin," Syl told him, feeling tears stinging her eyes.
"No," he said gently. "She's with me, she's fine."
"The milk cartons..."
"What?"
"Nothing, nothing. What's she doing with you?"
"She had a close call with Lydecker's people in Portland so I got her out."
"Where are you?"
"Canada." He sounded worried. "I told you."
"By the sea?"
"Yeah."
"That's nice."
"Syl, are you okay? Let me talk to Krit."
"I love you, Zack."
"Can I talk to Krit?" he asked gently. She nodded and handed the phone to him, yawning and feeling more content but still slightly odd, surreal almost. Zack's tone to Krit was both soft and hard at the same time, and Krit's explanations didn't seem to satisfy him. Syl's mind zoned out and the stars were shining out the window.
"Is he coming?" she asked after a long time, not really even expecting an answer. Krit's hand slipped through her hair and pressed against her barcode, and she gasped because it was so sensitive to the touch and his fingers were very cool. She blinked several times and straightened, glanced at him. "Is he coming?" she asked again, this time firmly. Again Krit held the phone out to her.
"Ask him."
"Zack," Syl said. "How long are you going to be in Canada?"
"I have to get Tinga settled," Zack said, and she could tell by his voice that he was frowning. "And right now she's not cooperating very much with that."
"Let her husband help her get settled," Syl said, trying not to sound desperate. "I need to see you." Suddenly she thought she might cry again, in the bad way. "I really need to see you, Zack." He was quiet for a long moment.
"Her husband's still in Portland," he said softly. Syl blinked.
"Case?"
"Portland." When she didn't say anything Zack added, "She made this decision. Best one she ever did- better for her, better for them. Better for all of you."
"Spare me the propaganda," Syl said, but her voice was more sad and tired than angry. "And now she's reconsidering? Can I talk to her?"
"She's not here right now."
"Where is she?"
"The more important question is where are you?"
"I'm not sure, I was wondering that myself." There was silence and she could hear his worry. "I'm fine, Zack," she said before he even had a chance to ask.
All he said was, "Put Krit back on now, Syl." And he sounded so annoyed and worried all at once that it made her smile, made her want to cry. She handed the phone to Krit and let the tears fall as she listened to Zack's soft tone and how much he loved her.
Helena was cloudy and there was rain. People warned of storms. Syl loved
it. She loved the smell just before it rained, she loved the people and the
things they talked about, and she loved the smell just after it rained too. They
didn't get an aparment in Helena, they got a house. It was a little one, two
bedrooms, but there was a yard and there could be flowers in the gardens if she
wanted. There could be a swing in the back if she wanted. There could be a white
picket fence with a gate that squeaked in a charming way and there could be a
real life if she wanted.
It was all Zack's doing. He was okay, he wasn't in Manticore, he wasn't brainwashed or scared or dead. Tinga was with him and no she wasn't with Charlie and no she wasn't with Case, but she was alive. Safe. And Syl was grateful.
"You look happier," Krit said to her after a couple of weeks had passed. Zack called every little while, just check-ins, and things were better. Almost normal. "You don't look so pale," Krit added. Syl smiled, and for the first time in a long time, it wasn't a half-smile. It was a real one. Even her eyes smiled. She was sitting at the kitchen table at the time, sipping orange juice. Krit sat next to her and when he took her hand she didn't mind. He kissed her and she didn't flinch. Then they went upstairs to bed at three in the afternoon and she didn't scream or have a nervous breakdown or make him run out the door. She didn't even cry in his arms afterward. She didn't want to.
She just laid there after he was asleep, happy and waiting for it all to just
come crashing down.
