Alex sat beside the Soul on the bed, his arm around her shoulders. Blackheath did not like Alex's arm around Dorsey. But this wasn't Dorsey. He grappled with the paradox and came up with nothing. Of course, he heard Yanni say, that is the nature of paradox.
But it was true she found Alex comforting. And Blackheath couldn't leave her, and she couldn't work if she was too afraid, which she was, if she were alone with him. As she should be. She was a Soul. And they needed her to work f they were to get Dorsey back.
So they were stuck.
Into the mess, lurking beneath the calm that Alex wore for the benefit if the Soul, for the benefit of Dorsey, Blackheath could see the deep bitterness that he had betrayed Alex's trust. Alex could not know he had prevented a wider calamity, that he had opted for an approach that would kill only the guilty ones. The Souls. And particularly the Souls in charge of keeping the humans at heel. He would know only that Blackheath had agreed to work a cease fire with one side of his face, and worked to destroy it on the other. Blackheath had had no choice. But that didn't make Alex's gaze any less unpleasant.
For the moment though, he sensed that Alex would ignore this, so that they could get Dorsey back. They had to get her back. Only…
"You're not to go near her memories," Blackheath warned, wishing like all hell they could just deimplant her and get Dorsey straight back. But the Soul was apparently integral to getting her back. She had to stay. He could only try to minimize the damage. What was worse, was that Dorsey knew too much. Which was usually fine, because Blackheath could trust Dorsey. He'd be dead a hundred times over if he couldn't. But he couldn't trust this Soul. So if this Soul knew these things, she would have to die. Unfortunate, perhaps, because she was apparently trying to help them, but true.
The Soul looked at him sadly. She had not tried to go near the memories yet, but he triggered them unavoidably, and she couldn't help but love him. This body's attraction was too powerful to allow any other response, and coupled with the memories… it was very frustrating that he should hate her. And it confused her to be afraid of someone she loved. But there were bruises on her shoulder still from where he had grabbed her. She fingered them unhappily, her hand beneath Alex's arm. She liked Alex. That part was uncomplicated. He would not hurt her.
"It makes it a bit hard to search for her then, doesn't it?" Alex was saying, and Blackheath frowned.
"She won't be found in her memories," the Soul said softly, not wanting to provoke Blackheath, "She doesn't exist there. They are only… memories." She smiled a little, thinking of them, and Blackheath scowled and looked away.
"Where is she then," Alex asked gently. She wasn't sure how to explain. English was not set up for these concepts.
"Deeper," she said eventually, and shivered to see the fury in Blackheath's eyes. He did not like this idea either. He wanted her as close to out as possible. Deeper was not in that direction. She wanted desperately to please him. "But there is another way."
Blackheath glanced at her, which was frightening, but also lovely. This was confusing, and she stopped.
"Another way," Alex repeatedly patiently.
"Instead of going and getting her, we lure her to come to us. I stay here. At the top of her mind."
"Lure her," Alex said. "How."
"Tempt her. Give her things she can't refuse. What does she like?"
"You don't know?" Alex half turned, staring at her leg.
"I haven't accessed her memories…" the Soul said, "…oh."
"She likes Blackheath," Alex said.
"A lot," the Soul whispered, nodding.
"So, we give her Blackheath," Alex said, but it was a question. One that Blackheath was not answering. Eventually Blackheath began to shake his head. She flinched as he stood up, but he didn't even notice. Alex sighed and followed him out.
***
"You want me to touch her," Blackheath muttered, arms folded tight and bouncing his spine on the wall, "I want to kill her. I can't stand it."
"You have to," Alex said, trying hard to sound reasonable. "It's different to what happened with you. She'll go away as soon as Dorsey comes back. That's her job. The more you help the quicker that can happen. Then she's out, Dorsey's back, everything's back to normal."
"She'll know everything. She already knows too much. I have to kill her."
"No." Alex was very firm on this. "She doesn't know anything. Except that she loves you, and she's afraid of you. She didn't know what she liked. You should see her at dinner. She put the zucchinis in her mouth and had to spit them out. She was surprised she didn't like them. She didn't know."
"She can't love me," Blackheath muttered, having really only heard that far. Alex sighed internally, thinking of Falling Smoke and Flame.
"She doesn't really have a choice," he muttered.
"So what do you want me to do?" Blackheath said finally.
"I don't know. Take it slow. What does Dorsey likes to do."
Blackheath became thoughtful. Everything.
"Remember this is a Soul we're talking about here," Alex warned.
"I think it'll be more I question of what I can do," he muttered eventually, "I just don't think I could kiss her."
"Alright... What about starting with touching your hand."
He nodded eventually, tension still flaring along his jaw.
"Alright," Alex said. "No time like the present?"
Blackheath looked like he was being led to slaughter.
"Ok. We're going to try this luring thing," Alex said as they reentered the room.
"Like in the book," the Soul said, having thought it over, "The prince wakes the princess with his kiss."
"Something like that," Alex mumbled seeing Blackheath recoil in revulsion. Blackheath sat himself firmly in the visitor's chair furthest from the bed and gripped the arm rests. Alex gave him a look that said unhelpful. Blackheath raised his eyebrows a fraction in response, unmoving.
"So. Maybe if you go over to Blackheath there and, and try holding his hand."
"Ok." The Soul got up and walked over to him. It was amazing to see how little she resembled Dorsey, even in this small action. Her walk was quiet, tentative, somehow, polite. It was nothing like Dorsey's. Blackheath drew back as she got closer, but stayed put.
But she bypassed his hand and drew her fingers along the muscles in his forearm. He froze, but managed to let her. She knew he liked her shoulders, and let the hospital gown fall off one, almost thoughtlessly. It worked like a charm; he was entranced. She slid her fingers along the muscles in his shoulders, and then his hands had grabbed her wrists, vice tight.
"Blackheath, you're hurting her."
Finally he let go, looking away. He managed to hide the trembling.
"It didn't work," Alex muttered, pulling the Soul carefully away from him and massaging her wrists.
"He didn't try," the Soul said forlornly, not even trying to stop the tears, "he didn't even try."