Ninety-seven

Jane pants in the darkness, sweat runs from her temple into her hair as she settles herself onto the floor and then lifts herself into another situp. She makes sure that she is as quiet as possible Gunther has been asleep for a short while and she has no wish to wake him up. Ninety-eight.

Jane had found herself getting increasingly restless the more time went by with nothing to do but worry. Lulling around was hardly her preferred activity. In fact, she hated the lethargy that she felt settling into her the more time went by and that in turn made her anxious. As such, she was constantly deciding that she would lay around for a while to pass the time only to immediately be spurred to action by that anxiety.

She had finally found some comfort in doing exercise whenever it was Gunther's turn to sleep. Eating away at that undeniable energy. She has felt moderately less stressed since and actually able to sleep in more than just fits.

Jane finishes her set of situps at a hundred and stares at the ceiling waiting for her heartbeat to settle.

Getting up from the floor she dusts herself off wincing at the small bit of noise in the vast quiet. She looks over to Gunther on the bed, he still sleeps. The steady movement of his chest visible, the moon in the correct position to highlight it. She sighs, never alone in this tiny wretched box.

Half the time Jane wished she could get some actual solitude and the other half she wished Gunther would talk to her more. He had gotten quieter the more time they were here. They had argued very minimally. They'd soon discovered that arguing in this situation turned horribly awkward when they couldn't actually leave each other's presence. And Gunther it turned out, that when he wasn't arguing with her, was just rather quiet and moody.

She felt both vastly alone and overcrowded at once.

Leaning against the window was a habit of his that seemed to be rubbing off on her, she thought as she took up his usual vigil. The moon was visible and completely round, bright enough to read under its light if one wanted to.

Turning again to look at Gunther's figure splayed on the bed, his breathing deep and steady, she wondered idly if he did the same when she was sleeping. Most likely, she concluded, there was nothing else to do while keeping watch. Jane had attempted at first to keep herself from looking at Gunther when he was sleeping, it felt like an invasion of privacy. That hadn't lasted long, however after that first day when he had passed out, seeing him so still she had to constantly make sure he was still breathing. She would check for the movement of his chest find it steady and go back to pacing. Then a while later anxiety and fear that he had stopped breathing would seize her and she needed to check on him once more just to reassure herself. It had been days of this and she was beyond chastising herself for it at this point.

Being stuck together was a strange thing. Being constantly in his presence, day and night, when one or the other was unconscious seems to have linked them in some inexplicable way. Jane can feel the quiet, like a shift, a subtle change, a calm in the air the moment that Gunther falls asleep. It will catch her off guard at times she will be looking out the window or lost in thought and then feel the change. She could never be sure what it was she would just realize he was finally asleep if before he was just lying in bed not yet unconscious. She could feel it when he woke in the same way as well.

It had been just too many days since they had been shut into this room. It was reaching in her mind a breaking point. She could handle only so much, after all. Gunther had chastised her for her desire for something to happen. But how could it be preferable to be stuck here indefinitely wading through a never-ending pool of dread? Eventually, one got tired and drowned.

Just what was it that Adem was waiting for to do something with them? Jane felt marginally sure that there was something that he was waiting for now. This was their prison cell and as soon as he had whatever it was he needed or wanted, that's when things would finally gain momentum. It was a truly maddening thing to contemplate what it would be that would finally put a forward motion on her life. She was stuck here like a book left open, half written, half read and abandoned, forgotten and getting dusty. She was in that limbo. Jane liked to be the propulsion that set her life into motion. The idea that she just had to sit around wait for someone to make the important moves in her life was true torture.

The sun is already bright and the morning almost over by the time Gunther wakes. Jane knows it immediately, that feeling rousing her out of her stupor. She had taken a break and then done more exercise and was laying on the floor staring, at the ceiling in contemplation.

"Good Morning."

Gunther looks over, spotting her on the floor. "Morning." He looks at her for a beat more. "Did you sleep on the floor? You could have just woken me up." He sounds annoyed.

"I wasn't sleeping." Jane says amusedly, sitting up and stretching her arms in front of her.

"Right." Is all he answers. Ever monosyllabic.

She'd actually managed to get him to engage in conversation the night before, albeit briefly and most likely because he'd snapped at her right before. But it had been good for a moment, even a bit of levity and then he'd just shut down like always. But she craved more conversation, it had just been too much time cooped up as they were. Knees up, she lays back onto the floor contemplating the ceiling once again. She needed to figure out a way to wheedle some more human interaction out of him.

Jane waits until they get food a little while later.

"I've been thinking," She tells him. They both sit at the base of the bed on the floor, Gunther with his back to the bed and Jane cross-legged beside him as had become their habit. "That Adem must be waiting for an answer, a message to arrive. What else takes this long?"

Gunther chews, contemplating what she said. The food they received now wasn't the most appetizing, but it was something. Gruel might be the best way to describe it but at least they didn't have to subsist on bread and water alone. "That makes sense." He answers.

"He must need something, information, approval before he decides what he needs to do with us." Jane insists, hoping to pull more from him.

"Yeah." He answers even more simplistically than before. Jane restrains the urge to roll her eyes only with great force of will.

He takes a drink and then absentmindedly hands her the cup. It was customary for them now having just one cup to drink from, she takes it, sipping it thoughtfully. She had hoped that food might have made him more ameaniable to talking. But to her great annoyance he seems just as determined to not engage in any conversation. Still she persists despite that annoyance. She could not let get let him off quite that easily.

"Hard to guess, stuck here, what it is exactly he's waiting for. Is he demanding something from Kippernia? From a higher up? From someone he plans to sell us too?" He's still quiet, so she keeps going. "A man like that, it's probably all of the above and then some, I bet anything he's weighting options." Jane has yet to touch the food, focused as she was in her plan to get Gunther to talk. She picks up a piece of bread and tosses into her mouth.

"And which ever suits him best decides our fate." Gunther finally replies, his tone thick with disdain. "Perfect. Absolutely smashing." He continues sarcastically, staring daggers into the heavy metal door. He was truly in a foul mood. Not that she could necessarily blame him, but she still hated it. It was when he became the most contemplative. Jane had felt a little better having gotten a bit of laughter and talking out of him the night before.

Jane sighs, and they eat the rest of their meal mostly in silence.

The rest of the morning Jane sneaks looks that him and that same look disdain etched completely into his face, and wonders what specificly must be going through his mind for that to be so. He usually looked bored or annoyed or whatever he was truly feeling was at least cloaked masked with those looks. Today, however, he looked upset and angry. She wasn't normally good at reading his face, but it was so plainly displayed today. It both bothered and intrigued her.

She thinks about prodding him further but knows he just prickles and gets defensive if she does. Like poking an already startled cat, it was pointless and stupid.

And stupid, she was not.

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See you next week!