"You haven't told me why you're dressed to the nines today." I joke, prodding him in side with my elbow as he hands me the last plate to dry off. A bullet-proof vest is peculiar attire for washing the dishes.
"I've been busy since I got back last night. Haven't had the chance to get changed." He shrugs, turning off the tap. The soapy water begins to drain in a slow moving spiral.
Was he that worried about me? Enough that he'd come straight to my house to make sure I was okay?
I put the last plate in the drying rack, setting the towel on the counter, avoiding his gaze.
I know he senses that something is off about me. I know he's been trained in reading people's body language, and I've let him get too close to me. He sees through my pauses and the way I glance away.
He places a hand on my shoulder, and I flinch despite myself.
"Elise." His tone is soft and questioning. He noticed my reaction.
There's the sound of Velcro unfastening, and I glance over to see him removing his Kevlar vest. He sets it on the kitchen table, then removes a gun from his belt holster, followed by two blades strapped to his pants. He adds these to the growing pile, and lastly, places his cell phone among them.
When he holds his arms out expectantly, I watch him, trying to make sense of this act.
"Sweetheart, I won't hurt you."
Sweetheart. How misplaced does that sound coming out of his mouth? Kid, rookie… yes. I've heard those. I've never been called sweetheart before. My lips twitch into a smile and he runs a hand through his hair self-consciously.
"Damn, that sounded more awkward than I'd hoped." He gives me a lopsided smile. This is what I'm used to.
"Come here." He grabs my hand and leads me to the sofa in the living room. It's the first time in a while that I've felt his bare hands without any gloves. His grip is firm, his palms are rough as they always were.
No.
I can't let him touch me. I can't let him win me over like that. This sense of comfort will be my downfall. I'll lose myself and my heart will take over. Use your brain, my mom said, your heart will mislead you. I quickly calculate how much space I can leave between us before I sit down, but he catches on and foils my plan.
"When did you become afraid of me?" He pulls me into his lap, his strong arms preventing any attempt at escape. I'm forced to stare into those deep brown eyes until I can't any longer. My gaze shifts to the hard planes of his face, angular cheekbones, rough stubble, defined jawline…
I don't know when I became afraid, Brock. Maybe it was when Dr. Jones told me that you wouldn't hesitate to kill me if I stepped out of line. Maybe it was when I finally realized that I'm a disposable pawn on this team. Maybe it was when you pinned me against that one-way mirror and confused me with your mixed threat and confession of love. Maybe it was when—
He cuts off my thoughts, pressing a gentle kiss to my lips. I momentarily freeze—just a second's hesitance—but he senses it. He pulls away, his eyebrows furrowing in subtle irritation and confusion. He's annoyed with my silence, I know. He thinks I'm acting like a kid. He's probably not used to dealing with people who can't be straight with him. He expects discipline, and I see his patience wearing thin.
But how can I tell him the truth?
The truth is that I don't trust him enough to tell him what bothers me.
I'm still afraid that he'll hurt me. And yet, there's this hope inside me, a tiny voice that whispers that maybe… maybe I'm safe with him. Maybe he cares enough about me. He's defended me up to this point, after all.
Those damn lyrics are cycling through my head, and I can't filter them out.
You see a monster, I see a smile.
You say it's danger, and I'm in denial,
But somehow I feel so safe right now.
If there was ever a fool in love, it would be me.
"Is this your way of breaking up with me, Elise?" He lowers his voice, glancing away briefly. Breaking up? Breaking up? The thought hadn't even crossed my mind.
"What are you talking about?" I can't hide the surprise on my face. "No, I don't want to break up with you. I've never considered it."
I didn't want to say it, but there it is. I admitted to myself that I have helplessly, hopelessly, fallen for him. I can't pretend any more.
"Then why are you acting like this?" His mouth is set in a sober line, his eyes critically appraising me.
I take a deep breath, pause, and gather my courage.
"Because I'm afraid, Brock. I'm afraid that I'll be the next to go. Once I'm useless to you, to Pierce… you'll get rid of me. Do you think I don't know? Michael's death was no accident, was it?"
He bites his bottom lip, angling his head slightly like he's considering something.
"I knew you'd eventually figure out what happened. You're not stupid."
I'm surprised by his honesty. And he didn't freak out or get angry at me for knowing too much. I decide to push him a little further.
"Then there's Kenji." I add, gazing down at my hands, "I can see that he clearly didn't want to be associated with this project, to the point where he took his own life. I'm scared. Can't you see? I don't even know what I'm involved in, and yet every day I live in fear of being the next to go for treading on some invisible line."
I see his hand move out of the corner of my eyes and I brace myself, my mind racing with images of my impending death. I've said too much, and now I'll pay for it. I know full-well that I can't fight him. Not physically. Not mentally. I've fallen for him too hard.
He just takes my hand, his fingers interlocking with mine, his thumb gently stroking my knuckles.
"It's not a choice, Elise. Once you're in, you're in for life. It's an honour that you're here. Pierce saw something in you, I saw something in you that fits here. I know it's scary. Right now you're motivated by fear, but soon you'll see that this is the right place to be."
"If I belong here, why am I treated like a minion who can't be trusted with basic information?" I want so badly to tell him that I know the identity of the subject, just to see the look of surprise on his face.
He contemplates my question for a moment, and one eyebrow drops in slight irritation.
"You haven't been told anything because that's how this system works. There's no room for mistakes. You want to know why the subject matters so much?" His tone is defiant, like I've cornered him and he's finally giving in. "Because he protects the secrets of Project Insight. That work will change the world, Elise. It will establish order, and discipline and safety. It has to execute successfully, and he eliminates anyone who stands in its way. That's why you're working on that memory wipe. Because he works best when he doesn't get distracted. You're important. This is important." He places his hands on my shoulders to emphasize these last two sentences. I almost feel like he's about to shake me to make a point. But he doesn't.
I'm important… for this project. That's it?
He sees the flicker of hurt in my expression and rubs his temples, shutting his eyes while he rethinks his approach.
"You asked me before, how I coped with the death of my friends." He pauses, opening his eyes, his gaze boring into me. "I killed them. On Pierce's orders."
I stare back at him, processing those words, feeling the life drain out of me as I remember what he'd said that day.
I've lost a lot of pals, but that's part of the business, and part of the risk. I understand that now. That understanding helps me cope.
"I didn't lie to you. I cope by believing in the good that this work will do. There'll be losses along the way, and I sometimes regret that." He reaches out and strokes my cheek, but his touch is cold to me, unfamiliar.
Sometimes.
"Don't make me regret anything. I won't hurt you, Elise. I want you by my side. You and I, we see eye to eye on things. I don't want to lose you." He rubs his thumb over my bottom lip, his eyes lowered. He's frowning.
It feels like I've forgotten how to breathe.
His phone rings from the kitchen, and I'm grateful for the interruption it provides as he gets up to answer the call.
I clench my hands tightly, but they're not shaking. Damn it, why don't I feel terrified, like I should? What kind of sorcery has he played on me, that his words can both frighten and comfort me at once?
I can hear him on the phone. He repeats the name of a hospital, then says he'll be on his way immediately.
I don't move from the sofa even as he puts his gear back on. When he leaves the kitchen, I meet him in the foyer. We stand in silence for a moment, his gaze trained on me, mine focused on a mud stain on the entrance carpet that I've promised to clean for years now.
When he reaches for the lock, I unconsciously move towards him. I don't know what drives me to embrace him. I just need that sense of security, even if it's false. I don't want him to leave on this uncomfortable note.
He stiffens for a moment out of surprise, then runs his fingers through my hair with a soft chuckle.
"I'm not the best at comforting people. I always say the wrong things." There's a regretful tone in his voice, but it's not apologetic.
"You're the worst." I mumble, unwilling to look at him.
"If I keep things from you, it's only because I don't want you to get hurt. When Project Insight is up and running, I'll tell you everything. I promise." He pulls me away and looks me in the eye. I search his face for any hint of a lie. When I don't see any, I nod.
"Elise…" His voice is soft, "If fear is the only thing that will keep you out of harm's way, that's enough for me."
I see a hint of pain in his smile, but I don't know what to say, so I don't say anything at all.
"Next time we meet, everything will be better. Let's forget any of this happened tonight." He plants a kiss on my forehead.
"Okay."
I wish I could, Brock.
"I've gotta go." He unlocks the door and glances at me over his shoulder. "See you later, rookie. Behave yourself."
"You got it, boss." I plaster a smile on my face, watching him disappear into the night, the door closing behind him quietly.