Every seven days, the prisoners would be sent in groups to bathe in rickety barrels lined along one of the underground passageways. It had been 6 days since the girl had been brought. 6 days of watching her and wondering if she watched him. She hadn't spoken to anyone that he'd seen yet, and her jade pins were gone, letting her hair fall freely. He hoped to get a word from her on the way down to the baths. Partly to hear her voice and partly to see if he could help. Not that she seemed to need it much, she had held her own quite well. After everyone fell asleep most nights, he'd watch her eat half her food and feed the rest to a restless child in the neighboring cell. His watchful eye undetected by her since he laid back in the corner where it was deeply dark.
Their eyes hadn't met even once and he knew it must be because she was aware of his constant gaze upon her. He felt so foolish but the ending hours of the day were the only time he saw her and her presence gave him hope. "Strange.." he thought as he pondered on his fantastic attachment to her. Her fourth day there, a guard came for for her, and had everyday since she arrived. This was odd. Perhaps she was a skilled opponent and provided a rare challenge, he questioned. Although, small, new burns bled passed her wrists and out of her sleeve.
On her fifth day he came once again, but this time Wesley saw a horrific look of fear and dread in her eyes. She slightly crumpled in the corner, but the guard yanked her up. She resisted as her unkempt hair whipped around her, but his grip did not waver as he pulled her out of the cell. Suddenly she looked back at Wesley, proving her awareness of him all along. He sat up, scrambling over to grip the bars as she silently begged for his help. He tortured himself for hours after she'd dissapeared down the stretch. He tried convincing himself he could have done nothing. He could not remove the picture of her face at that moment, out of his mind. She had such eyes that could steal a sailor from the sea. She had looked at him so automatically, like a wife to a husband she trusted to kill for her. He prayed for a chance to learn why.
There were times like these, and like going to and from work, where restraints weren't used at all. Those insane enough to brave the desert would surely perish. Without a sense of destination or direction, the taste of freedom turned into a sour, slow death.
All the prisoners were now released and aggregating towards the entrances to the deeper string of caverns. He tried to push passed the others, but somehow got shoved out of sight of her. They scattered through the tunnels, but he found himself walking toward the end of the one he'd landed in. There she was, washing off a motherless boy of five years that sat sweetly in a small barrel of suds. He approached softly, moving to sit across from her. She looked up with slightly widened eyes of defense and uncertainty. He dipped his hands in the water, rinsing off the dust as he nervously avoided eye contact.
"Ow" the child quietly sqeaked at the wound on his shoulder. The girl winced sadly knowing she must wash it. Wesley finally opened his mouth to say something she was surprised to fall so kindly on her ears.
"Can you speak?" he asked, lowering his head to attract her eyes. The quiet, low tone of his voice and the gentleness of his manner made her immediately gullible to his trust, a feeling she was never quick to. She touched her throat in silence and it was understood. She moved closer to his side and relaxed, communicating her faith in him for the time. He contained the pure joy and content that rolled like thunder in his chest as the lightning struck behind his eyes. It had been way too good of a feeling for the actual circumstance, but he'd felt close to nothing for so long now, that the goodness was overwhelming.
Without an inclination to do much else, he decided to stay and help. He scrubbed the boys hair as the child sleepily played with the bubbles and water. She looked at him for a moment noticing a wound of his own. She lifted a fresh rag, asking for permission in her pause. With slightly raised eye, he slowly nodded. She cleaned the blood and sand from his collar bone. A few minutes of welcomed quiet had passed and it was time to leave. They both stood and she wrapped the child up and took his hand. They walked into the crowd piling towards the exits and others were suddenly closing in from every side. She instinctually wrapped her hand around his upper arm and he, a hand around her hip. The touch brought peace and both felt a mixture of relief and fear for putting their trust in a stranger.
As they grew closer to their chambers, the child was lead in another direction with a wave goodbye. She slid her hand out of his arm and briskly walked into her cell before she could be pushed. Wesley watches her hand leave him with total distraction and is therefore shoved into the wall for walking too slowly. As the last straw breaks, he shoves the guard back toward the ground. Regret flushes the blood from his face with a cold fear in his sweat. The guard gives an undiscernable look due to the solid mask enveloping his mouth. He rushed to his feet and pulled the skinny bat-like weapon from his side, swinging it at Wesleys face with full force.
The blow knocked him immediately unconscious as she watched him lie bleeding while the guard locked him in. The prisoners roared, screaming and banging on the bars in outrage. The blood that covered his face made its origin impossible to spot. The riot simmered down as the sun had left, and a few hours into the night he woke. Only his left eye opened, finding his right eye was swollen shut. Dry blood left him looking like a nightmare as he pushed himself up. It came from a gash down his lip and chin. He looked up to see the girl asleep against their joint cell bars. Somehow his gaze awakened her, like she'd been waiting anxiously for him to wake up. He tried to crack a smile of comfort but swore under his breath at the pain. He touched his fingers lightly to the cut, hissing at finding the source of it.
She signaled him to her and he gladly conceded. She handed him an untouched cup of water. He closed his eyes with a hand on his chest for a moment, then pushed it back to her with a shake of his head. He looked up and studied her face. She was beautifully sincere and her selflessness was incredible to him. He found himself giving her a slightly quizzical look and half a smile.
"Go back to sleep." he whispered in both languages just in case. Before he took his own advice, he ran through the moment from earlier in his head over and over. The guards hadn't ever shown emotion or sign of humanity despite provocation. Besides that, he'd seen so many others fight back without so much as a wince. Whatever the cause may be, he'd worry about it tomorrow and he was already asleep.