"Wait, I'm wrong
Should have done better than this
Please, I'll be strong
I'm finding it hard to resist
So show me what I'm looking for."

(Show Me What I'm Looking For- Carolina Liar)

He'd almost killed her. Could have if she hadn't managed to wake him up in time. Her scream had ripped through him, reaching him even in the dark recesses of his sleep-walking nightmare. She'd opened her mind back up to him too, he could tell now that they'd spent the last two weeks with her closed off. Maia had rambled something about him giving her a headache, and he'd felt bad enough about that. Now she was bleeding. She seemed to be ignoring the pain she had to be in, but he'd hurt her.

She was scowling at him as she held her spare pair of pants to her arm, "Come on, they're just scratches. I have three older brothers and my sister is a sadist. Trust me I've had worse."

That didn't make him feel any better. She wasn't pressing down hard enough. She gasped when he drew close to her, putting his hand over hers to add more pressure. He was fairly certain that her gasp, lovely as it was, wasn't because she was glad to be close to him. At least he thought that at first, but then she put her other hand over his and smiled up at him, "It's okay, Wild Man. Promise. I'm not going to die or anything." Her blue eyes dimmed ever so slightly, "You startled me, not going to lie, but let's be honest, we're not the ones we should be afraid of." She laughed softly, "And damnit, I'm completely insane, but, Wild Man, I trust you."

'I trust you.' He wanted to say, but he couldn't make his tongue and mouth move to produce words like she could. Maia tipped her head to the side so her neck was stretched temptingly in front of him, and then she pressed her lips his wrist.

Her blue eyes cut up at him, "I know." Just what did she know? She smiled again, "I know you trust me, and I know you still can't speak. Your mind though, it's less…messy then it was before." She stepped back, still holding his hand, "No headache. I don't think I'll have to keep us apart anymore." Color raced into her cheeks, and she let his hand go, drifting to the pile of junk she'd been accumulating from their meals, messing with whatever it was she'd collected.

As usual, when mealtime came, he put himself between her and the door. She had a tendency to do stupid things when it came to their captors being close. "I do not." She hissed from her pile. It was a relief that she would finally be able to know his thoughts, it would make their days less reliant on her rambles and his growls, but he wasn't listening to her.

The man behind the door's scent was laden with satisfaction and recent release. "Almost got her, Weapon X! Surprised the little bitch didn't shit herself. You two had almost gotten boring."

Maia lunged at the door and growled, "Don't call me that!"

He caught her before she could do herself any damage, and kept his arm around her even though she fought him. 'Stop' he thought, focusing on her, and, to his satisfaction, she stilled.

Of course she glared up at him like a furious kitten, but still, she stopped. Out of spite, she kicked him in the shin. "Ugh! I forgot you're an ass."

He chuckled, but when the food came in, he growled and kicked it out, keeping her from looking at it. The horny bastard outside had spent himself on their food. He'd rather listen to her stomach growl than let that shit get close to her. She gagged dramatically, "Ugh, gross!" Directing her voice to the door she screamed, "Go jerk off with your sister you fucking sicko!" He was continually surprised by her vitriol.

They ignored the cursing outside and she grinned up at him, "Like I've said, I have three brothers." She leaned against his shoulder, "My oldest brother, Thomas is a sailor and fifteen years older than me, I learned a lot from him when our sister or mom weren't around to glare." She brushed her hands over his arm as if she was studying him, "I've never had anyone know about my power, much less anyone actively talking to me using it. It's actually pretty cool even when you're being an asshole." She tapped on his arm, "Okay, Wild Man, time to put me down. The impulse to be an idiot has passed." He let her go, and stood there for a minute until she asked, "Give me a boost?"

She was standing under the camera with plastic in her hands, and he followed her lead, letting her stand on his knee so she could put the plastic over the camera. She hopped off and smiled cheerfully at him, "Tired of giving them a free show. They can get their rocks off elsewhere."

Their day continued without any further drama. Their night was a different story.

He kept from going to sleep too deeply, he didn't want to risk stabbing her again. Every time he stirred, he'd take a deep breath, making sure that her scent wasn't obscured by any infection from the wounds on her arm. About the fourth time he woke up, there was something new in the room. A scent, but it wasn't the acrid odor of disease or the musky burn of infection. It was something he couldn't remember smelling since he'd been with Stryker, not that he could remember his life before them.

Next to him, Maia arched her back, and sighed, her face scrunching up for a second. They were facing each other, one of her knees thrown over his legs. The scent was her. And it was so much better than anything he could have imagined. She smelled sweet without being cloying, and seemed much warmer than usual. She wasn't sick again. No, she was aroused. She settled closer to him in her sleep, and he couldn't resist the temptation to touch her face. She'd gotten paler in the weeks she'd been with him, but a flush was spread across her cheeks making her look more edible than usual. Her lips parted at his touch, and she gasped softly.

Without his consent, the previously vestigial organ between his legs began filling with blood. Then she rocked her hips, the heat between her own legs even hotter against his knee.

He flung himself off the cot. He'd resisted touching her for too long, and if she was going to make delectable noises and rub herself against him, he couldn't trust himself not to. She whined, rolling into the space he'd just left, astonishingly still fast asleep. And damn him if he didn't take advantage of her continued slumber and the covered camera to convince the offending organ to resume it's usual lax state with sharp tugs of his hand. He was, he decided, a 'fucking sicko' just like the same men who were holding them.

He hadn't felt shame before, but somehow, he was pretty sure this was it. He'd had enough done to him without his consent, and she couldn't give it if she was asleep, no matter what her body might be saying. He'd already hurt her enough, he couldn't inflict the same damage on her that they'd done to him. He wasn't going to touch her again without her permission, no matter how badly he wanted to. She was going to kill him.

Maia's first words when she woke up and saw him crouched in the corner, "Oh, shit. That wasn't a dream." He'd deny that the way color flooded her face didn't make him want to smile.