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Chapter 24

I do not sleep to dream…

My head jerked up in sudden surprise, and restless and weary though I was, I fought fatigue with every pained fiber of my being. I shifted my weight, my movements in the silence of the container near deafening. Vale grunted irritably across from me, removing my legs from off his shoulder.

"You haven't slept yet?" His voice was harsh against my ears and rang oddly against the metal paneling.

"No."

"What," he chuckled tiredly. "You think I'm going to knife you in your sleep?"

There was no trust between Vale and I. We were thrown together by circumstance, a wild whim of his, and worry clawed at my skull. I had grown comfortable with others before. It would not happen again.

I chose not to respond, content to stew in my concoction of delirium and anger. I kept tired eyes on him, questioning his motives, debating the truth of his statements. I doubted he had been fully honest with me, for what reason had I given him? But he had saved my life, and that fact, more than any other, confounded me.

My vision had grown accustomed to the darkness and I was able to make out the shape of his body, the awkward position in which he now slept. I was amazed that anyone could be comfortable, let alone asleep in such a pose. He grunted again, and I tried to move out of his way as he shifted once more.

"You're paranoid, you know that?" I shot him an evil scowl at his words, but the effect was lost amidst the lightlessness. "Just get some sleep. The trip will go faster, and we might not run out of food stores."

I hadn't even considered hunger and my stomach took that moment to rumble loudly.

"Here," I heard the rustle of fabric, but was unable to make out his movements. "Come over here."

"What? Why?"

"I'd like to sleep without your foot in my ear." He shifted again and I heard him move to one side of the crate.

"No."

"Are you sure? I don't bite. Usually."

"I'm fine."

An irritated sigh whispered through the crate and he shifted into his original position. "Have it your way, then."

I cursed my luck yet again, fatigue weighing down my lids as I fought to remain awake. My mind drifted, replaying the day's events, picking apart the details, reviewing, analyzing, and then replaying again. I broke down each action - each word - from the morning's shower to my hideaway in the crate, and still I could find no faults, no lapses in my judgment. I was at a loss. Where did I go wrong?

"So what is between you and Aria, anyway?"

The question was unexpected to say the least, and surprise filtered through my system, unsure of what exactly he was asking or how to answer. "She's my employer," I stated flatly.

"Sure," he quipped. "I know who she is, what she looks like. That kind of woman…" His voice trailed off only to be replaced by a low whistle of wonder. "That kind of woman could bend anyone to her will."

My skin itched with heat and irritation and I huffed in response. "She's brilliant, yes, but there's nothing between us."

"Mmm," he mumbled, but showed little sign of belief. "If you say so."

"I do."

"Just how much do you think she trusted you?" I heard the rustle of fabric against the walls and shot him another irate scowl.

"Enough for me to do my job."

"Nothing more?"

"No," I stated simply. "Trust was never an issue between us."

"Ah," he leaned forward in interest. "What was the issue, then?"

"Who's to say there was one?"

He laughed with the ease of a man who'd nothing to lose. "You wouldn't be so upset if it were otherwise."

I remained silent, fuming. What right had he to insinuate there was anything of substance between Aria and I? What made him think he knew anything about Aria? About me? I drew my legs up under my chin and contemplated the blanket of shadows before my eyes. He was little more than a fortune hunter with exquisite timing, and even though he saved my life, he appeared to have few redeeming qualities.

Vale had admitted easily enough that I was nothing more to him that a means to an end, a possible payday. I had no desire to betray Aria and I wasn't about to divulge intelligence to anyone until I had facts in hand. No, I would hold my tongue and mind my words in his presence no matter how absurd his queries. He posed no question I had not thought of already.

"I wouldn't be upset?" My voice was low, laced with venom.

I was barely able to make out a shrug through the darkness. "That's what I gathered, yes."

"I just survived a hit on my life. A gang of mercs shot me, had the audacity to launch a missile at me, destroyed a bar, a cab, and a terminal hub to get at me –" I shook my head in disbelieve, clearing the web of thoughts from my mind. "And you wonder why I'm upset."

"You're shot? Where?" He cursed and shifted in the darkness. I could feel the heat of his breath on my skin as he moved near. I remained perfectly still, eyes wide and thoughts racing. I said nothing at first, enduring his close proximity in silence, as if wishing away my presence would make it so.

"Where were you shot?" he asked again, his tone stern and insistent.

"My arm – it's only a graze. Nothing to worry about." He reached out in the darkness for my arm, but I wrenched it away angrily, knocking my elbow against the wall of the container. I hissed in pain. "It's nothing. Leave it alone."

"It won't stay 'nothing' for long."

"Well," I cleared my throat, the dryness of my mouth harsh and arid. "Once we disembark, I'm sure a bit of medigel won't hurt."

He snorted with disdain as he returned to his position at the opposite end of the crate, body sprawled awkwardly against the far wall. "Good luck with that, then."

"Unless you have a medpack handy, there's little point in treating it now."

I heard the rustle of fabric and flinched in surprise as a gelatinous packet hit me on the side of the head. I choked back a snarl of annoyance, and fumbled with the medpack. Blood had spilled down my arm, soaking my sleeve in its wake, the resulting damp stickiness uncomfortable and itchy. Discarding my jacket, still reeking of smoke and blood, I pulled my knife from my boot and cut the sleeve from off my shirt. The tear of fabric echoed throughout the small space, and even though I was expecting it, no snide comment passed Vale's lips. He remained blessedly silent.

The packet was cool against my hot skin, blood still seeping from the wound. I applied pressure and welcomed the familiar embrace of pain. The ache spread through my veins until the effect of the medication took hold, and then numbness reigned. I sat cross-legged and comfortable in the small space, Vale's steady breath oddly soothing.

He was a mystery to me. I had never before met a man who could be as quick to condemn as to save. It was a trait I was unaccustomed to, seeing little use for it myself. Emotion was a trait which interfered with my work and Aria would have been disappointed had I ever forgotten control. Her method had been brutal, but she had instructed me on that particular folly quite well.

My thoughts drifted back to Uta, her lithe body dancing beneath the blue glimmer of Afterlife, false flames showering her figure in brilliance. The memory of her soft skin crept into my mind, the scent of her fingertips as she pressed them to my lips, the look in her eyes when she awoke. I had traced every line of her body, every curve, but the memory had faded with time. She was another lesson learned, and I welcomed the cold emptiness pooling within.

Vale shifted against the wall, his slight movements drawing me from my melancholy. My nose twitched in irritation as the scent of liquor drifted across the small space. I coughed and attempted to bury my head in my ragged sleeves.

"Something wrong?" He asked, his voice tired and haggard.

I grunted, shifting against hard metal. "You reek of bourbon."

"You don't smell that great either, sister. Charred hair and smoke just don't do it for me."

I opened my mouth to spit a retort, catching my foulness on the air. I feigned indifference as I wadded up my jacket, the strong stench of smoke and blood clinging to the fabric. Ignoring his bark of laughter, I lay my head upon my ruined jacket and attempted to sleep. I would not allow him the knowledge that he was right.