2017 cont.
As the months passed the scars faded, and the memories with them. Things were better at Michael's; although he was only ever home half the time. She went back out into the field without a concern because Michael was always by her side. So long as he was there she felt safe from everything, including herself. She turned her anger out rather than in and began to be more successful, faster, and more efficient.
"Bianca, run!" Michael shouted.
Bianca kicked up her heels and raced down the tunnel, Michael close behind skittering every now and then as he looked back. The mass of bugs following them were squashed or blocked by the imploding walls.
"There's going to be more up ahead!" Bianca called back to him.
"I know. I expected that," he said, catching up and overtaking her. "Faster, Bianca!"
Dirt spraying under her feet, she pushed herself to run faster, Michael not far in front of her. Emerging into the light of a fading sunset they were greeted by a group of Kluzjig demons – their hair wild and noses pushed back flat against their faces. Michael punched one on his way through, spinning into a roundhouse kick as it keeled over and knocking a second to the floor. Bianca used them as launching pads as she ran, leaping onto the one on the ground then up to the back of the one keeled over, using her momentum to catapult into a forward somersault and knock down the two left standing. Bringing down her athame, she watched as they flamed beneath her, Michael finishing what he started on the two behind.
"That's all?" she called up to him.
"I believe six was the total," he replied. He grabbed her arm and pulled her back to her feet. "So including the two we finished off inside, I'm sure we've met the bounty criteria."
"I would have thought there would be more."
"It's not a large group of demons. Numbers vary here and there. We got what we came for, I think we should go."
Rubbing the aching muscles in her shoulder, she shimmered out after him, reappearing back at his apartment. He strode towards the kitchen as she stretched.
"Hungry?" he asked. "I think we should order in, lay low for the moment." He picked up the phone, browsing the catalogues covering the fridge. "Pizza? Chinese? What's the order of the day?"
"Pizza, I guess," she said, shrugging.
He began dialling in numbers and lifted the receiver to his ear. "Any particular topping?"
"I'm not fussed."
She watched as he looked away from her, turning back towards the kitchen as he started to speak to whoever was on the other end. Glancing around, Bianca's eyes finally settled on the blood on her hands and shirt. And just as she had done every other time, she decided the sooner she got rid of it, the better. Moving towards the kitchen she peeked in through the doorway.
"I'm just going to have a shower," she said.
Michael glanced up momentarily, waving her off. She wasn't sure if he'd heard her, or was just being irritable now that he was on a call to someone else. There were no mentions of toppings, sizes or prices, and this was how she knew. Giving him a brief smile she left, walking into the bedroom and discarding her clothes as she traipsed into the bathroom. Closing the door, she rested her head against it for a moment before turning towards the shower, sliding the glass door open and spinning the handles. The water sprinkling down in a steady stream, she held her hand underneath then stepped inside.
Having scrubbed away the blood, the dirt and the grime from her body, she sank underneath the cascading water, drenching her hair and face, running her hands from front to back as she rubbed her eyes and then smoothed the long strands down. Grabbing the shampoo she lathered her hair, scrubbing it clean before falling back into the encompassing warmth. Turning off the shower she stepped out, noticing in-between the glistening drops that her skin had taken on a reddish hue and that the entire bathroom was filled with steam fogging up the glass and mirror. She'd run the water too hot.
Reaching for a towel, she wiped it across her face and down her arms before wrapping it around her. She picked up a hairbrush from the counter by the sink, running it through her wet hair, following with her other hand to smooth it and tugging at the ends to free the brush. Flicking her hair over her shoulder she started on the other side. When she was finished she put the brush down, holding onto the front of the towel as she walked back into the bedroom. Bending down to open the drawer, she tossed her hair over her shoulder and pulled out some fresh clothes. Placing them at the head of the bed, she combed her hair behind her ears before picking each item up and changing into it.
Adjusting the spaghetti straps on her top, she scooped her hair back with her hand and pulled the end free from where it was caught. Picking up the towels she tossed them back into the bathroom and walked back towards the bedroom doorway, catching a glimpse of Michael sitting on the balcony outside. She walked towards him, pausing just behind the sliding door as he looked up to her.
"Manage to wash your sins away?" he questioned. She shrugged.
"I could be forever if I tried," she said.
"Pizza?" he asked, holding up a slice, the end drooping back down towards the box.
Shaking her head she stepped out into the cool October night, taking a seat in the chair on the other side of the table out on the balcony. Leaning back in his chair, Michael lowered the pizza over his mouth, taking a sizeable bite from it, chewing and swallowing as he looked over to Bianca who was curling up in the chair, her feet pressed against the top edge of the low concrete barrier as her eyes moved across the city skyline.
"I specially order you in pizza, and you don't want it now?" he pressed. "Did you lose your appetite in the shower?"
"No," she said. "I prefer it cold anyway."
"So I have to save you some now?"
Eyeing him to see why that seemed like such a big problem, she saw him devour the last of his piece and then brush his hands.
"I've had enough anyway," he said, standing and scooping up the box.
He walked inside to clean himself up, leaving Bianca alone on the balcony. Wrapping her arms around her legs, she lowered her chin to rest on top, watching as the various apartments blinked lights on and off as people arrived home and subsequently went to bed, or went out again. Vague sounds of traffic passing by on the street downstairs drifted up, the occasional car horn blasting or siren ringing out.
"You still out here?" Michael asked as he returned, stopping in the doorway. She tilted her head and smiled at him as he pulled over the chair and sat next to her. "You should put a jacket on if you're going to stay here otherwise you'll freeze."
"I'm not cold," she said.
Michael raised his eyebrows. "I don't want you getting sick. Why don't you come back inside?"
Shaking her head, she looked back out into the night; the stars twinkling in the sky sporting the last few remnants of light as yet more people turned their apartment lights off, dulling their buildings into darkness. The cool breeze blew back against her face, lifting her hair slightly behind her before dropping it back into her face. It felt refreshing against her skin. Michael's gaze shifted from her out to where she was staring.
"What are you looking at?" he asked with keen interest.
"Nothing really. Just thinking," she answered.
"Okay, what are you thinking about then?"
"What happens when all the lights go out."
"Reach a conclusion?"
"No."
"Are you asking me then?"
Lowering her face to her hands she shifted uncomfortably in her chair as she thought about it, finally shrugging and mumbling: "I don't know. Do you have all the answers?"
Reaching out, he brushed her hair behind her ear, Bianca leaning into the touch as his fingers trailed under her chin, his thumb brushing against her jaw line.
"You're feeling it, aren't you?" he questioned.
The only thing she was feeling was the warmth of his hand against her face, the appreciation of the affection he was showing for her, and the burdening sensation that she was missing something. Lifting her face towards him he leaned in and kissed her. His lips soft against hers, she closed her eyes as she absorbed the feeling. Something she had wanted for so long and it was only coming now. It was only seconds, and felt like the barest fleeting of moments as he pulled away. Somehow she felt deprived, knowing she had waited so long, knowing everything she had done for him, she felt she deserved more. He hadn't moved far away, and remained where he was as she moved her head forward and pressed her lips to his, seeking out the reconnection. The tips of his fingers making lazy circles across her neck, she stared at him with lust filled eyes, waiting for him to say something, waiting for him to tell her he cared for her like she cared for him.
"I know how to make it go away," he said softly.
His hand gliding down her neck and her arm, he fastened his hand around hers as he pulled her up from the chair. Her eyes travelling up and down his body she wondered where he was taking her, and what exactly he was talking about. Leading her back into the bedroom, he turned her around to face him as he closed the door. Lifting her hand, he threaded his fingers through hers. She could feel the warmth of his palm ever closer to hers now. Gazing up at him, she lifted her head as he lowered his own to kiss her again. She fell back against his other hand, now snaking its way around her waist and sweeping across the bare skin of her back as he lifted the hem of her top a little higher. He was overbalancing towards her and she felt her feet falter as she stumbled backwards, not once but twice at his intensity. Her free hand grasping for the back of his head to gain herself some leverage, she found she could not overpower him.
As he pulled back she found she was able to steady herself, her hand falling to his shoulder then drifting down his arm as he lowered their joined hands, twisting on such an angle as he moved it slightly behind her that she felt a twinge of pain in her shoulder. The pain quickly faded as he moved his head down to the more exposed skin on her neck, kissing the now accessible crevice and making her heart jump. Tilting her head as he made his way up, she closed her eyes, giving into this new sensation whereby now even she could feel her own blood pumping in her veins.
Brushing his lips over hers, he again waited for her to make the move, to apply the pressure she was craving. As he pushed back against her she knew she wouldn't be able to keep her feet much longer, aimlessly feeling behind her for something solid, something to stop herself from falling. Her hand finally making contact as it slapped the mattress, she eased herself down onto it as he followed with short kisses.
Her eyes moved with his figure as he knelt down in front of her, pulling her closer, both hands now resting at the back of her hips working on her top as he lifted it up. Now she could feel the chill, the cold air caressing her skin as his hands did the same, creating the opposite effect. Her top now discarded on the floor, he placed a hand either side of her body, predatorily leaning forward, kissing her as she scampered her way back up the bed. Fastening his hands over her jeans, he stealthily popped the button and tugged down the zipper, leaving the pants in their wake as she distractedly shimmied her way out of them, consumed more with his lips than the hands that were pulling them from her body.
Her head hitting the pillows as he rose above her, lowering himself to her lips again, she had a fleeting moment of panic, working her hands in-between them and gently pushing against his chest. Looking down at her with partial offence, quickly disguised by his cool demeanour, he ran his hands down her hips and over her thighs as he sat back, stopping partway down as he watched her scoot back so that she was half-seated, her hands supporting her weight. This was too fast, too quick, and she wasn't even sure if she was doing the right thing.
"Bianca," Michael started, rubbing her leg. "Just relax."
The word had completely the opposite effect to what he was implying. Instead she tensed up more, and she knew that if he told her to relax one more time she would lose it completely and race from the room. But she didn't want to leave him. She loved him. She'd laid her life on the line for him time and time again. It had to be the same with him. Surely he cared for her – allowing her to use his home, his bathroom, his bed. He had to feel the same way or he wouldn't be so attentive.
"It's only a release," he explained softly, seeing she had frightened herself into stopping. "Just something to ease the tension."
Anxiously she watched him. He had to be right. He was always right. She had learned so much from him. He was her mentor, her teacher, why shouldn't she let him teach her this as well? Meekly she nodded.
He began making his way closer to her again and timidly she reached out to unbutton his shirt as he worked on his pants. Finally breaking free of his clothing, he lowered his head to her neck again, his hands stroking her hair and down to her back as he pulled her closer, unfastening the latch on her bra. His lips moving across her shoulder, he nudged the strap down one arm, returning to her lips as he pulled down the other. Gently pressing her abdomen, he pulled the bra off and cast it aside, his mouth working its way down her chest as she slowly fell back. Continuing down, she felt her whole body tingle, coming alive with each kiss and caress. His fingers latching onto her underwear, he smiled in appreciation as she lifted herself so he could remove them easily, discarding his own with the same kind of finesse. Moving back up to her she gently touched her fingers to his lips, slowly running them down his neck and chest, over the muscles she had seen before but never touched. It fascinated her.
His hand moving from her hip to her side, he brushed across her wrist with his fingers, taking her hand and lifting it towards her head, pushing his fingers between hers.
"Hold on," he whispered.
Compliantly she folded her fingers over, inhaling sharply as he entered her. His arm felt heavy over hers, as if he was trying to keep her there, but she wasn't about to move at all, not unless her body responded to something he did. His lips time and time again returned to smother hers, attempting to muffle her cries from the pain and the overwhelming pleasure that followed as he continued to thrust into her. Gripping his hand tightly, her entire being suspended into a state of rapture before crashing back to the here and now. Relief flooding her, she saw satisfaction cross his face as he backed away. Spent, she simply watched him crawl from the end of the bed, gathering his clothes as he walked over to a nearby chair, quickly dressing, flicking his shirt collar as he looked back at her. Turning on her side and propping her head up she saw him take a seat, slipping his feet back into a pair of shoes, leaning down as he tied up the laces.
"You're not staying?" she queried, disappointment evident in her voice. She wanted him to stay. She wanted to be able to curl up against him, feel his warm arms around her.
"No," Michael answered, lifting his body as he finished one shoe, lowering again to tie the other. "I've got some paperwork to do."
"Paperwork?"
"Yes, reports. Or did you forget what we did today?" he questioned, annoyance in his tone.
"No," she replied, rolling back onto her back, pulling the sheet up over her.
"Well it has to be done," he said. Straightening again, his hands slapped the arms of the chair as he lifted himself up. Her gaze shifted over to him. "I will be back," he said reassuringly.
Pulling the sheet up under her chin, she watched him leave, closing the door behind him. Her eyelids growing heavy she closed them, turning onto her side and snuggling into the pillow under her head as she drifted off to sleep.
Awakening the following morning, her eyes opened to find the spot on the bed next to her empty. Pushing her hand against the mattress, she lifted herself up and saw the sheets were in the exact same position as they were the previous night. There wasn't even a depression in the pillow. Biting her top lip, she turned and slid off the bed. Gathering her clothes as she headed to the bathroom, she had a quick shower, tying her hair back as she walked back into the bedroom. It was still empty. Moving into the living room she glanced at the couch and saw that it hadn't been made up.
There was a click at the door. Looking up Bianca saw it open, saw Michael stride through still in the same clothes he had been wearing when he left the previous night. He kicked it closed with the heel of his foot, his head down as he walked in a straight line, passing by on the other side of the couch from her. She followed him towards the kitchen, her arms folded; stopping as he stopped in the kitchen doorway, dropping the bag from his shoulder onto the floor.
"You didn't come home last night," she observed quietly.
"I was busy," Michael said, unzipping the bag and pulling something from it, tossing it somewhere behind him.
"Yes, you said that," Bianca stated, watching as he tossed a pile of rags over his shoulder. "But reports don't take all night."
Michael stopped what he was doing, looking up at her darkly as he rose back to his feet. Bianca dropped her arms to her sides as he took a step forward.
"You want to criticise me now? You know how important this is to me!" he shouted. "It's not enough that I have my own work to do, but now I have to carry double the workload because you're too insecure and inferior to go it alone? I have to do my own kills, my own paperwork, as well as yours. I do all your research. I have to teach half a dozen other Phoenix's, and in-between all that have to train myself! Why don't you stop thinking about yourself for a few seconds, Bianca, and have some empathy for other people? Give me some space! Please!"
Tears burning behind her eyes, she looked at the floor, swallowing, glancing back to him as she shook her head lightly, abruptly turning away and heading out to the balcony. Climbing into the same chair she was seated in last night, she curled herself up, resting her face against her hand, willing herself not to cry, closing her eyes as she tried to keep the tears contained. She could hear nothing but the soft sound of traffic below, feeling the warm glow of the sun. After a few minutes she heard movement by the door, opening her eyes but not moving as she heard Michael's voice.
"I don't mean to snap at you, Bianca. You just have to realise that you can't have my attention every minute of the day." He sighed at her lack of response. "If you're that bored, you could venture to the library and do some research yourself. It'd save me some work."
"Maybe I will," she said quietly, trying to sound threatening but her tone betrayed her.
Tossing his head to the side, he stepped out onto the balcony, his shoes scuffling across the concrete as he stepped in front of her, kneeling down to her height, resting his hands on her knees.
"You're not a child anymore. You're a grown woman. Now stop sulking and act like one. We'll talk tonight, after I finish my business."
She stared at him. More advice. What more could she expect? At least he was offering the promise to talk about it, if not now then later. Lifting himself again he walked away. Bianca closed her eyes; thoughtful, hopeful and more settled.
As night came around, Michael returned to the apartment with a calmer, more pleasant nature, bringing dinner as a peace offering. The words she had hoped to hear did not come; instead it was idle chit-chat of the day's events, a few affectionate touches, and the inevitable journey back to the bedroom. And again he did not stay. She fell into a patterned routine, events always occurring the same way. Bianca stopped questioning Michael's whereabouts to prevent having an argument with him. She let him do what he pleased, always leaving her to sleep alone at the end of the night.
It was one of these nights that she heard something crash to the floor in the bathroom, startling her awake. Always on guard, she opened her eyes quickly and stared at the light shining under the slit of the door, hearing Michael curse from behind it. Sleepily lifting herself from the bed, she pulled a nightgown over her head as she made her way over, pressing on the door lightly as it creaked open.
"Michael?" she questioned softly, rubbing her eyes to adjust to the light.
He was only half-dressed, pants discarded on the floor, removing a damp piece of cloth and replacing it with a fresher, cleaner one. Blood flowed freely from a deep wound slashed across his hip, running in rivulets down his leg as he tried vainly to soak it up with what little cloth remained on the sink.
"Michael! What happened?" she gasped, rushing forward to scoop up the remains of the first aid kit that had tumbled to the floor.
"Target got a little too close for comfort," he explained, seething as he pulled the cloth back slightly to inspect the wound, obviously in pain.
"That looks bad," she said, his hip level with her eyes as she inspected the wound, her fingers rising towards it but stopping short of touching it.
"I need you to do something for me," he said calmly.
"What? What can I do?"
"Fix it," he said, slamming his hand down onto the counter with an object underneath it. "With this."
"Not with that," Bianca said, shaking her head warily as she looked at the needle and thread that he had placed there. "Can't you just go to a healer or something?"
"There's no time! It has to be done now. I have to get back out there!" Picking the needle back up he held it out to her. "Bianca, please. I'd do it myself but I can't reach. The angle's too difficult to see. You need to do this."
Screwing her nose up she took it from him, tentatively touching the wound with her other hand, seeing him wince. Watching what she was doing through half-lidded eyes, she pushed the needle through the skin, hearing him yell, trying to keep steady as he leant forward to grip the edge of the basin. Her fingers slipping in the blood, it reminded her of the scenario that had brought her here in the first place. She pulled the needle out, threading it through again, her hand seeming to go a little further than it was meant to. Bianca thought she was seeing double from over-concentrating, from not wanting to see what she was doing, until Michael glanced down at her, bellowing, smacking her hand away so that she lost her hold on the needle completely.
"Don't you do that. Don't you ever do that!" he scolded.
"What? I don't know what I did. What?" she cried.
"You're not taking my powers! You do what I told you to do, nothing else."
She looked at him blankly. She didn't know what he was talking about. If this was something else, some other trait or skill she was meant to have, he had never taught her. He had never even told her about it.
Shakily she reached back for the swinging needle, watching him carefully as she moved back to his side. She threaded the rest of the wound as lightly and close as she could, making sure to keep enough distance between her hand and his hip so that he wouldn't have another irritable outburst again. Tying off the thread, she leant away as he passed her down the scissors, afraid of what he could do with them. His hands just about to snap the basin in half, if only he was strong enough to do it, Bianca was glad to see that he wasn't going to take it out on her. Grabbing a fresh cloth she ran it under the water, cleaning the blood from his leg, brushing his hair behind his ear as she stood again. Turning his head he glared at her. She slowly drew her hand away.
"Go back to bed," he ordered.
"Do you want me to come with you?" she asked.
"No, I have to do this on my own. Go!"
Backing away as she watched him, she reached behind her for the door, pushing it back open as she backed into the bedroom.
"Close the door!" she heard him call.
Obediently she closed it behind her. Climbing back into the bed and pulling the sheets over her legs she stared at the door. He didn't come out. Lying her head down on the pillow she kept her eyes open until the light disappeared from under the doorway. She heard a small sound from inside and knew he was gone. Chewing on her lower lip, she closed her eyes, hoping he'd be there in the morning.