It was a relief when the proximity alarm sounded again, even though again Cap was clearly still frightened by the sound.
This time, when she entered the code to open the door, and the Team piled into the room, he went from alarmed into defensive mode. Maybe it was that she wasn't sure her heart could take any more of his tears, but it was actually a relief to see him respond to the unexpected guests by facing the three new faces and lifting the frying pan in a fighting stance.
"Yes," she thought, "you can get angry and ready to fight, so long as you don't give up."
The Team members, remembering her instructions about Cap's mental state treated him with equanimity, ignoring the frying plan and jovially sitting down to eat. She served them all rice, and extra portions to Near Space, who seemed especially good at creating a sense of normalcy at the table and ignoring some of Cap's more abrasive statements. Near Space was even good at trying to include her, though she knew she was a lost cause from a social perspective. Without the net, she could barely bring herself to nod at Demolition's praise of her documentary.
But as the dinner progressed, she acknowledged that bringing in the Team had accomplished more than just developing allies for her and Cap.
She observed Cap as he began to respond to the other members of the Team. They were perhaps the only people he would ever trust again, people who he had know before everything fell apart, and who had not betrayed him. As his trust for them reestablished itself, she knew that this could be a step to healing him emotionally.
Yeo wool strongly felt the discomfort at have three older men in the room with her. This was a scenario that in the past she would have avoided at all costs. But if this was what it took to help Cap, she could do this and even more. Fighting her instinct to move away from the group and lock herself in her computer room, she did her best to follow the conversation. Toward the middle it got to be too much, when the topic of evidence came up, she retreated to her computer station. Calling Cap's phone and putting it on speaker, she could answer their questions much more normally, relying on the inherent safety she felt speaking through the phone.
The rest of the dinner seemed a blur. The team discussed the fabricated evidence against Cap and promised they would help him clear his name, ignoring his protests that he would take care of it alone. Boasts about how they were going to make whoever framed him pay dearly for it. They made references to some of the missions they had played together, and the atmosphere again felt like it had back in the chat rooms before or after a game. There was jokes and laughter from the rest of the Team. Though none of the laughter came from from Cap or her, it was a good start.
By the time the guests prepared to leave for the night, the mood had felt hopeful and Cap looked somewhat relaxed. The rest of the Team left all at once, plunging the house into a sudden quiet that contrasted sharply with the previous boisterousness.
She found herself sitting alone in the room with him, he on the couch and her at the computer station. She had prepared his bed for him earlier; the blankets and sheets were a high thread count cotton, very soft and very clean. The room was cool, but the blanket was thick and warm. She wanted him to be comfortable tonight, to sleep knowing he was safe.
But watching him now, seeing his lost expression as he sat staring at nothing, she knew the dinner with the Team had not relaxed him to the state where he could sleep. She wondered if after the hell he had been through, there was anything that could make him feel safe ever again. Currently he looked like what he was, a person being hunted.
She got up and moved over to where he sat, keeping her movements slow and her head down as if she was approaching a wild animal. In a way, she supposed that's what he was. It was clear from how he held his body and started at any noise that a primitive part of his nature had been awoken in his struggles to survive the previous year. For a long time she had been the same. The attacks had come without warning, and she had never felt safe closing her eyes night. She had lived in a state of perpetual terror for so long, that she had become part animal in her mind, trusting her gut more than her mind. Even after she had found a safe place, her mind had not fully accepted the change. She saw threats everywhere, and had fallen back instinctively into fight or flight mode.
Seeing Cap now, she knew it might also take him a long time before the look of panic would no longer be so near the surface.
Yeo wool didn't kid herself that he would ever regain his former self completely. After those kind of experiences, the old Cap would not have survived. She had not survived as herself. The transformation had made both of them something darker, a shadow clinging like a second skin to their souls.
And she recognized the look in his eyes of someone who had seen the worst the world had to offer. How could she fail to recognize that look? It greeted her every day in the mirror. She knew what it was to face the darkness and come out on the other side with the darkness inside her.
From her position standing by his knees and looking down, she couldn't see his face. Instead she could make out every detail of his hands illuminated by the soft lighting from the sconce behind the couch. Since he made no signs of retreating or response to her proximity, she simply stood motionless for a minute, just studying those hands.
From her background research, Yeo wool knew that Kwon Yoo had practiced tae kwon do for many years. He had even won several regional awards and been part of the national team.
His hands were those of an athlete; strong, capable, and calloused. But on top of the strength, she could see those hands were now injured and scarred. Lines she knew where from a prison shiv were slashed over his right thumb, and the knuckles of both hands were bruised. A red gash was visible over three knuckles of his left hand, and all of his nails were chipped and uneven.
Yeo wool felt her heart again begin to ache looking at those hands. Like him, those hands had been strong and confident, but now they were damaged.
With a sudden insight, Yeo wool knew what to do next.
Without saying anything, she retrieved a towel, heated the kettle and filled a basin with hot water. She brought the basin back to the table and set it before him. After finding her kit she returned again to his side.
In the time it took to do this he hadn't moved. Slowly, she eased down onto the seat beside him and positioned the items before him. She opened the kit to show him the contents; cleanser, hand moisturizer, emery board, nail clipper, cuticle oil, and nail clippers. The set had been an expensive gift set she had purchased for herself online. It was a little pathetic buying a gift for herself, she had thought at the time, but no one else was going to purchase it for her.
Besides, she had justified, manicures were the only beauty treatment that she did with any frequency. Her hands were a tool of her trade and she treated them with care. She had long ago learned the basics from watching online videos, and was deft at performing self-treatments.
Yeo wool knew that explaining what she wanted to do would be difficult, so instead of asking him for permission, she placed her hand gently on his and pulled it lightly towards her lap. If he didn't want this, he could pull away and she would let him go.
He didn't resist her movement and made no sound, just sitting there passively as she positioned his right hand into place, steadying it with her own as she began to work on it.
The sound of the nail clippers as she clipped his nails seemed loud to both of them in the silence of the room. His shoulders flinched a little at the first clip, but still made no motion to escape her grasp. With care, she worked her way through the fingers on his right hand, clipping delicately to remove jagged edges and hang nails. When she was finished with the right she moved onto the left, and noticed that he helped now with the movement of his hands a little.
The nail file came next, and she was even more delicate with her movements as she smoothed the tops and sides of each nail, careful to move each hand slowly, to give him time to react to her repositioning. She repeated the process with the emery board.
As intervals, she sneaked small glances at his face. He kept his gaze fixed on their hands as she worked, and the expression on his face was inscrutable. But he wasn't protesting, and didn't look uncomfortable, so she continued.
Once all of his nails had been buffed to a smooth finish, she set his hands down again. She added a little of the cleanser to the water and mixed it with her hand, testing the water to ensure it was still warm but not too hot. Feeling that it was the right temperature, she took his hands in hers and lowered them into the water carefully. He let out an almost imperceptible 'mmph' as she did this.
Belatedly, she remembered the cuts on his hands, and realized it must have stung. She paused again for a moment to give him the opportunity to stop, but there was no other sound. He did not remove his hands from the basin.
As they sat there waiting for his cuticles to soak, Yeo wool considered the fact that neither of them had spoken to each other directly since the earlier phone call. She knew he might think it odd that she had still said nothing, but considering everything he hadn't said anything either, and the quiet felt... ...comfortable.
Without something that needed to be said, she didn't know how to break that quiet, and wasn't sure she wanted to. What they were doing now seemed to be working. If he wanted to speak, she would listen then to anything he wanted to say.
Three minutes later, she lifted his hands from the water and moved them onto the towel on her lap, gently patting them dry. The cuticles would be soft now, and easy to work with, and so she took the cuticle pusher from the kit and began to work again. Quickly, she removed the excess cuticle and took care of the worst of the callouses around the nail. This was delicate work, and her lips pursed as she took care not overdo it.
When she was satisfied with the outcome, she got ready for the final step. Taking the moisturizer from the table, she spread a generous dollop onto her hand and prepared to massage the lotion into his skin.
It wasn't until she had started spreading the lotion onto the first hand and felt his skin under hers that she became aware of the intimacy of the situation.
As she worked her thumb and forefinger around his palm, the atmosphere in the room morphed. She could feel the charge between his fingers in hers and she was conscious of the closeness of his body. The sound of their breathing seemed suddenly loud. Still she didn't think of stopping. Instead, her hands worked steadily to spread the moisture from his palm out to the tip of each finger. She firmly massaged the flesh, touching every part of his hand.
No words had been exchanged, but by the time she moved to repeat the massage on his second hand, it was clear the mood between them had again shifted. She raised the courage to look up as her thumb circled his palm and found his eyes locked into hers. The eye contact lasted only a fraction of a second, but it was like the flash of lightning followed by the boom of thunder. His eyes burned into hers and the blaze of it swept through her body like she was conduit for the energy of it.
Where the energy went, the heat of it followed, making her acutely aware of her body in a way she had never felt before.
Now, as the skin of her hand touched his, the energy between them was a palpable thing. Her breathing deepened until it felt like the oxygen in the room was depleted.
It was too much. She had built no tolerance for these types of sensations, but now she felt herself drowning in them.
She hastily finished massaging in the lotion and dropped his hand. Busying herself cleaning the equipment and putting things away, she kept up an internal monologue that this was neither the time or the place for such thoughts. By the time she had finished, her breathing was back to normal and the energy in the room seemed to have dissipated a little.
Looking at the clock, Yeo wool realized how late it was and knew Cap must be exhausted. She wasn't sure when the last time he slept was, but she imagined any sleep since his escape must not have rested him much.
After spending so much time holding his hands, it seemed natural now that when she returned to the couch, she took his hand to prompt him to rise, and led him to the spare bedroom. There was a night light in the room, and he turned it on then sat on the bed. She decided that was her cue to leave. Slowly, she made her way to the door, and started to close it behind her. She watched his gaze pass over hers again, and he spoke quietly.
"Good night."
and with a short pause, and a steady voice she replied,
"Good night."