Logan
She was asleep now. Her small form curled up next to mine, drinking in the constant heat I gave off. She was always cold, which was strange since her room was kept warmer than the rest. She shifted on the mattress, too narrow really for two people to lay side by side, and unintentionally pressed her backside into me. I used the movement as an opportunity to pull her closer, a hand over her rounded belly, and my face in her hair, where her scent was most concentrated.
With the stirring, the baby rolled over inside her stomach and I was favored with its tiny shifting body against my palm. Despite myself, I smiled at the sensation. It was probably a good sign the baby was so active, even if it disrupted her sleep. I wasn't sure how this kind of thing went; I usually had no participation past the initial stage, but if anything, its strength was just a reaffirmation that this kid was mine. If only his mother could be that too.
Marie never failed to surprise me. Despite her scent telling me she wanted me, maddening, permeating my mind with need, she'd pushed me away. Or at least, she didn't participate. Although it wasn't even about that anymore.
I'd missed this. Just laying with her, watching the shallow rise and fall of her shoulders. I shared a bed with countless other women, but usually sleeping didn't enter the equation. No matter how arduous the evening before had been, I always ensured the woman, or women, were safely, and no matter how unceremoniously, kicked out. That could be the difference between leaving whole or not. Remembering that kept me conscious.
She wriggled again, muttered something even my sensitive hearing couldn't pick up. My hand instinctively reached up to caress her hair. The act of comfort quickly turned into grooming, weaving my fingers into the tousled strands, pulling gently at the knots.
Since I officially had no reason to visit her anymore, I lusted after these small moments. I wanted to be near her. To be inside her again. Listen to the patter of her heart, now two in sync. But I'd give that all up in a heartbeat if she'd kiss me back, touch me like she wanted me. Gave me just one look that said she didn't hate me. I'd give that up regardless.
I'd hugged her because she needed it. A small comfort I could offer her. And she'd looked so frightened, so fragile that I had to scoop her up in my arms and hold her trembling body. Breathing in her concentrated scent enough to memorize it.
She didn't resist, and I closed my eyes against her, pretending. I begged her to forgive me. Her eyes were open but they didn't see, staring vacantly at the wall behind. Wanting her, needing her forgiveness so fucking badly. I wasn't used to voicing what I was feeling, but by God, I'd tried.
My heart skipped a few beats when she started, made eye contact the first time that evening, but then fear tinged her scent and it started again at double-time, a senseless, hopeful rhythm. Did she think I could ever hurt her? I only wanted to hold her, since this would be the last time. I was selfish, yes. I was wasting valuable, but precious hours indulging myself.
I wasn't made for this. To be a lover. To share… that was another thing to contend with. The way Striker had put it, none too delicately, 'mixing the gene pool' and 'plenty to go around'. It sounded inhumane. The grisly reality of it was; I was not capable of sharing. The thought of another man taking my place sickened me.
Victor would be intolerable. The next in line, I'd found out through unofficial sources, was Pete. I liked the guy, although we'd only ever had a handful of conversations. The quiet Russian was built like a heavy-weight boxer, height, breath and bulk, and although he had a seemly placid temperament, I didn't trust him around my Marie. Just the thought of that invading her tiny body made me want to punch something. Perhaps rendering him incapable of carrying out the order.
On my side, there would be another. Then the next one. And I knew I couldn't do it. There was only Marie.
I'd laid her down, intent on her understanding this. If she wasn't going to listen, then I'd need to prove it to her. By this point, that wilder side of myself was in the foreground. He was better at this kind of stuff. He held her still, licked the salty trails of her checks, erasing the evidence that they were ever there. He wanted to hold on tighter, stop her squirming so he could do a proper job. And once that's done, he pressed his mouth over hers. It wasn't a kiss, he didn't know how to kiss, but the goal was there all the same.
Her unwillingness to grasp this concept frustrated him, and he may have nipped at her jaw when she tried to pull away. Could she not see he was only trying to show how much he cared for her? It was insignificant if she did or not - the base instincts that made up the core of this second personality did - and that's all he could focus on.
I could feel the blood humming, pounding through my veins. Her detached lethargy did nothing but piss me off. The burning fervor making hands shake and lips pull back over teeth in a grimace, still moving over her neck in imitation caress. I'd managed to pull myself out enough to take in the situation through human eyes.
Marie lay deathly still, hardly daring to breathe. Did she think… how could she…? I shook my head, more in disbelief than denial, because that's clearly what she had thought. Godddamnit, what was it about this situation that made me, him, behave this way?
I made an effort to lighten the pressure of my mouth, loosened my grip on her wrists I hadn't realized was so tight. Then he came back, but more tender than before, lips gentle, apologizing.
Because how could she understand something that I didn't even understand fully myself? Two consciousnesses in one body. One hedonistic, the other a soldier. One who views the world in only terms of the physical, and the other less reliant on that aspect but still very much in touch with his body. Two opposite sides of the same coin. Vastly different but still both parts making up the same man.
I realized this may never change. I was at peace with it. But I had to make her understand. This is why it had taken so long. We both had to be in agreement. Both the hedonist and the compliant soldier within me.
These few months with Marie had made me question all I ever knew. About this way of life. About if there was more out there than following orders for food and a bed. About not taking responsibility for the consequences. The world didn't need more mindless killing machines.
My hand rubbed small circles on her belly, and when I paused, there was a little nudge against my palm. Then another. It was so obvious now I'd taken the time to process it. No matter how Striker had put it, this wasn't another experiment, manufactured weapon or device to be developed and used by the military, but a human baby. Equal measures of Marie and me. I wouldn't just stand by and watch as my cub was taken away from its mother.
Gently, I shook her awake.
"Get your shoes on."
