Alone Again?
Chapter 9
Releena went through his clothing slowly, almost reverently. She'd found a pair of simple pajama pants that looked like they'd fit nicely in the first drawer she'd opened and they lay draped across the chair behind her, but she couldn't find a top that she'd be able to get into, let alone wear.
The only way would be to cut one of the many nondescript shirts to pieces, and although they all looked the same to her, she couldn't imagine ruining anything of his. The very uniformity of his wardrobe confused her. She'd hoped to gain some insight into him, even if only to discover his favourite colour, but everything seemed to be army issue, no sign of personal preference.
Still, she had no room to judge. Bad enough that he'd had to take her with him, now he had to save her from his own side. Not to mention she lacked anything to cut a shirt to suit her needs. She'd have to tear and rip, use teeth and nails, and she'd already done enough of that today.
Releena shivered at the yet another blank spot in her memory, and ran her tongue along her teeth, her finger at her lips. She could still taste blood, and she didn't dare go anywhere to find something to wash the taste away. She didn't even dare open the door to keep watch, for who knew who might come down the hall.
Sighing, she gave up on a shirt and slid on the pants. At least she'd have on some clothing when he returned, more than before. The thought stained her cheeks with another blush, and she clutched the towel to her chest, looking guiltily at the closed door as if he would walk in at her very thought.
The door stayed solidly shut, and she let out a sigh of relief, or was it disappointment? He'd barely been gone a few minutes, who knew how much time dealing with…with…Releena's mind balked at even the articulation of her troubles, who knew how much longer he'd be?
Idly she went back to the drawer, tucking some of the shirts back into the neat piles that her earlier search had dislodged. She had to work one-handed, the other struggling to keep the towel in place, even though she was alone in the room. Every time it shifted her eyes flew to the door, and each time she blushed at her involuntary reaction. Finally she closed the dresser drawers and turned determinedly away from the stubbornly closed door.
This put her squarely before the window, the lighted room reflected back at her through the dark pane. She stood staring back from the center, hair disheveled and surrounding her was the reflected brightness from the sheer white of her wings. They seemed to fill the air around her. She could see nothing of the rest of the room, no table, no chair, not even the door that had been the focus of all her attention earlier. Just white, and her in borrowed clothes and tangled hair.
The darkness behind the reflection made the illusion all the more real. She was alone. Her and what they'd done to her. Heero'd saved her twice now, but what could he do against his own government? His own leader? Look at her. Why would he even want to help?
With hesitating steps, one hand outstretched, s he took the one step needed to touch the window, fingertips meeting those of her reflection.
The glass seemed cold, even against her chilled skin, and seemed to burn. The one touch kept her immobile. How long since she'd been in a room with a window? How long had it been? But she couldn't see out. All she saw was herself, and those wings, like a mirror.
She knew there was something on the other side, something, someone. They were watching her again, they were always watching her. Security cameras, panels and now this, a one-way mirror. Did they think she didn't know?
They'd moved her here after Christine's death, terrified of a repeat with her, their only remaining success. The obvious blinking red camera hadn't been enough, she knew they watched from behind this silvered glass, and sometimes she could even hear them laughing, talking, planning their next cut, their next torture. What were they going to do with her?
She'd tried banging on the mirror only once, but they'd run in so quickly, sedated her so ruthlessly that she couldn't even bear to try again. She knew one of the two bare walls contained the door, but she couldn't seem to remember which one. Or had she come through the mirror itself, through the looking glass and this was her marvelous adventure?
Another spasm ran through her, and she curled tighter around herself, rocking gently, and still crying. She knew they watched, always, but she couldn't stop the tears, and could only vaguely remember that she should care about revealing this weakness to them.
Eyes blurred and burning tried to watch al the corners of the room at once, but returned most often to the mirror. It had to be lying, for over her shoulders she could see wings, and she knew she hadn't had them before. No human girl should have wings. They were wrong. WRONG. She could feel the new weight on her shoulder muscles, the pain along her back and even hear the faint rustling in the slowly recycling air, but she continued to deny them. And continued to rock and cry, and they continued to watch.
With a gasp Releena threw herself backwards, her wings fanning out around her, before spinning and scrabbling blindly at the opposite wall. Stupid window, stupid reflection, stupid stupid wings. She could feel a couple of the tears sliding down her cheek as her fingers finally found the light switch and the room plunged into blessed twilight.
Releena stood still, her forehead resting against the wall, one palm on the doorknob beside her, the other clutched under her chin, slowing her breathing. She had to check. Slowly, without letting herself think about it, she turned the knob, and let go of the traitorous thought that he might have locked her in.
Finally she turned around, and keeping her eyes on the floor for each step she made it across the room. The room was only three steps across, but she stared at her bare toes on the thin carpet for the whole way.
Carefully she sat in the only chair, deliberately arranging her wings about her before finally looking back out the window. Only the outside courtyard look back, no hidden figures behind the glass, not reflections. Just the outside.
Hero would be back soon, he'd promised, and she could go out now if she wanted to. It wasn't safe, not hardly, but the door behind her was open, and she wasn't strapped to the chair, not this time. He wouldn't let it happen again that way.
Shakily she wiped the telltale smudges on her face away, hoping they would leave any signs of her tears. What would he think of her if he came back to find her bawling at his window?
The door swung open before Releena had barely had a change to finish her though, and her fear had only just managed to clench her muscles before she recognized Heero.
Her jubilance was mixed with shame at her own memories, at the unspoken thought he might not come back. When he turned on the light, Releena rose from her seat, her wings flailing about her as she tried to think of an explanation for why she would be sitting there in the dark; one that didn't involve reflections from windows and her own nightmares.
But he didn't ask her anything, and Releena couldn't quite recognize his expression as he stood by the door. There was something hungry about him, and as his gaze dropped Releena let out another gasp and spun away. She'd forgotten that she still only wore the towel as a top, and her habits of hiding were too strong for her to feel anything less than vulnerable. He'd told her to find clothes and she'd been unable to. She was still used to thinking of punishments for disobedience.
Releena found herself facing the window once more, but now too busy babbling about damaged shirts and how she would never presume without permission to remember her earlier fear. He still hadn't spoken. Hesitantly she raised her eyes from where she'd fixed them on the worn tabletop to look at his reflection.
In the mirrored image he now stood right behind her, clear as herself. She still couldn't read his expression, but the direction of his gaze was clear. Her back. And he was close. Much closer than she'd thought. The breath froze in her throat as she imagined she could feel his, and she waited for the pity, the grimace, any of the reactions she expected. She knew what he must see.
Ss she waited for rejection, steeling what little she had left against it, and was completely unprepared to feel a breeze waft across her back as he reached out.
Touch. In the day that he'd found her, she'd thrilled to his touch. He was something she craved. But this…
She couldn't move, wouldn't breath, couldn't even shiver as his fingers slowly crossed the gap between them, and stopped, mere centimeters above her tortured skin. So close she could feel them as they traced the lines that crossed and recrossed her back. So close that with barely a sigh on her part they'd meet. But that would change everything, and she was still frozen.
He stood between her wings, and she couldn't move without wrapping him in feathers. Most of him was hidden by the whiteness already, and she wouldn't risk losing him in them even for a moment. Not even to be able to face him.
Unable to see his movement, she kept her eyes fized on his face, on the look of concentration he wore, but all of her attention focused on the small hidden gestures that she could almost feel, begging and dreading for his touch.
It never came. He retreated so fast her breath came back in a whoosh, his face shuttering the emotions she wasn't quite sure she'd seen in the reflection. Freed from her immobility she spun to face him, not quite sure how, but determined to finish something of what he'd started. Her heart was pounding, and all her skin alive with craving for the touch he'd denied her, but before she could make more than this vague resolution, he answered her earlier babble in a neutral voice.
"Just as well Noin thought to find you a dress then. Get ready, we leave in two minutes." As she stood gaping at him, he turned and closed the door, gestured towards a dress lying crumpled on the floor as he left.
Leave? Leave to where? What was happening? The turnabout was too sudden. Were they fleeing? Had she destroyed the life he'd built here by simply entering it? Or was he taking her somewhere, somewhere to get rid of her? The solitary dreams of only yesterday now filled her with a thick dread. Freedom, if she was alone, just wasn't enough anymore.
Mechanically she pulled the dress on, carefully arranging the sleeves. She didn't even notice that whoever had found the dress had judged the needed cuts almost exactly, or that it was softer and warmer than her last.
She wasn't even sure that he would be taking her to freedom. What exactly did she know about how things worked here? The heart of her rebelled at the thought that he would ever do anything to harm her in any way, but the cold little voice born from countless witness to humanities horrors answered with contempt at her faith. She could easily have traded one cage for another. A cage might in fact be more than she could expect. She may have already caused too many problems, and he was to dispose of her like a rabid animal.
Releena shivered as she carefully folded the towel. No, away from the moonlight and terror she didn't feel quite so willing to offer him her life as she did before. That spirit that had kept her from taking her own way out was back. She wanted a chance to live, but if that meant running from him instead of towards him..at least if he was hunting her she could be with him that little while longer.
For now there was nothing she could do. No plans she could even begin to make. She would simply follow him and hope that an opportunity arose, although an opportunity to do what she wasn't quite sure.
