The food smelled so good but he couldn’t eat with all this shit on him, pus and blood and literal sewage. “Shower first? Then food?”
Her exhausted smile and small nod were all he needed, and they turned and walked towards the hall, the the sounds of Barbe talking with a chicken leg in her mouth behind them a weird normal. It didn’t take long for them both grab clean, wonderfully clean, towels Ethan had stacked and head for the glorious never-ending heat of the showers.
Consciousness returned quickly, and he lay crumpled on the floor, breathing heavily, exhausted, but. . . his pain muted again, which meant . . . he turned to his right, and there she was, lying next to him on the floor, just as grungy and sweat soaked as he, but still her hair shown gold in the dim light at least to him. As they helped each other up, he leaned on her, astounded at her strength. Although, not shocked at the strength, but astonished that she was finally willing to reveal the true power of her abilities, even if no one really understood due to their own distractions. Happiness surged through him for a moment, boosting his flagging morale momentarily for the next horrific test as everyone welcomed Waverly back from the nightmares.
Obviously a trap, everyone understood it, but dread pulsed into him. Something with this one . . . or someone maybe? He made his suggestions, but . . .emotional pain surged through him momentarily, he wasn’t in charge, he couldn’t make them listen. So he did what he could. He stepped up beside her, smiled, and held out his hand, and she took it. In his weakened state, and style of fighting, he was a hindrance. If something happened to her, he’d be even worse and the team would have to try to protect two broken individuals, but it didn’t matter, he needed to keep her close. Her martial arts and defensive skills were better than his, and his fear of the pain kept him from reacting quickly in case he made things worse.
A few moments later when the shadows hit Waverly though . . . proved him wrong with all his skewed logic. He could still react, even if it hurt like hell, proving him right for all the wrong reasons. Better lucky than good, according to all the morons he grew up with, but at least Affinity was still next to him, and it didn’t matter why.
The seizures eliminated some of the possibilities of quantum physics and alternate dimensional travel and visibility, but didn’t eliminate the likley possibility that the energy beings represented their physical selves and somehow their metaphysical energy had been seperated, and that by touching the two together, but that didn’t make sense unless some sort of barrier had been raised preventing them from re-integrating.
He started to explain, but the words wouldn’t come, and he didn’t grasp Barbe’s insistence that he not conduct experiments on his body but she could on hers. When he tried to logically explain that, with his extensive current disabilities, it made sense to test on the most expendable person in order to protect the strength of the others . . .
Shame pulsed through him as the lights finally kicked on, his exhausted body refreshed by the shower. He just didn’t know if he was supposed to apologize now or wait until they were in uniform again? Surely tonight right? He didn’t want to fight.
He opened his door since she had already left the showers, approaching the sink. He dried his hair, running the towel through it several times, was it him or had it grown substantially? Seemed weird but must be his imagination. Then he brushed his teeth, thoroughly, for several minutes, plus mouthwash. Five days since the church, four since Dixon’s trap of a house, three since the water park and. . . Ethan. Two more days of agony and exhaustion, and completely relying on Affinity to complete the mission. Two hours since . . . since . . . she . . . the howling sob caught him by surprise, but the shakes and shudders didn’t as the tears came and he crumpled to the floor under the window. Since she nearly died. Because of him. Nearly died when the last words they’d exchanged had been an argument, with her yelling at him. Black depression swirled. He couldn’t do this again.
He should of expected the knock on the door.
“Just a sec, getting dressed,” he yelled as he scrambled to his feet, forcing his body to get control of itself. He should have known she wouldn’t wait for him, somewhere in the back of his mind, he rejoiced, because that meant she still wanted to be here. He hoped. The whiplash of emotions made him almost giddy.
He tightened the towel around his waist and took the four massive strides to get to the door, opening it further, before attempting a smile and a lame, “Hey.”
“I brought us food.” Her drying hair was brushed smoothly back, and he reached for the drinks caught under her arm, before taking the plates mounded with chicken and pizza and sides and sitting them at his orderly desk. As soon as the food and drinks were on the desk, he turned to her, taking her into his arms and just holding her, feeling her heart beat, smelling her favorite shampoo. She stiffened for a moment before relaxing into him. “Thank you,” his mild voice loud in the quiet room.
She said in reply, “We should eat.”
He held onto her hands as she moved to break the embrace and go for the food. “I mean it. I mean, not for the, well yes, for the food, but. . . for kicking my metaphysical ass earlier. I needed it. I wish I hadn’t but I’m glad it was you to do it.” The logic of the apology soothed him.
A flush crept up from her beautiful neck to her face, “We can talk about it later. Let’s eat.”
Letting go of her hands, he grabbed food and sat down on the floor so she could have the chair at his desk, but then she kneeled and then sat down, leaning against the bed while he sat with back to the wall. He wanted to talk some more, but as soon as they both took a bite, their bodies rebelled, and silence reigned as they devoured all of the food, and he realized they hadn’t eaten in two days since they left from the Center to head for the ocean.
He could feel the wall of exhaustion creeping toward them, but he didn’t want to break the peace, but at the same time need pulsed through him. They survived, and should celebrate.
“I . . . will you stay here tonight?”
The hesitation was answer enough, and his melancholy rose like a rogue wave crashing through the room. Her answer put a ragged barrier between him and the crashing. “I’m exhausted. I just want to sleep.”
Timidly, “Me too,” knowing she can feel what feels, and not wanting to mislead, “I mean, mostly, but there is plenty of room here and I don’t think any of us should be alone tonight. We don’t know what could happen. But, I guess we could be out in the main room . . . ”
Her gaze is firm but “Well, your bed is bigger than the couch,” and his gloomy mood retreated as he heard the slight tinkle in her voice. “To sleep in,” she added.
He coughed, “You can sleep here as long as you want, whenever you want.” It wasn’t what he really meant to say but he didn’t know how to say that yet, and didn’t want to scare her. “I mean, if you want to.” Jeez, shut up Lukas. “I mean,” a deep sigh.
She turned to him, her eyes reflecting the small smile upon her face. “How about one day at a time?” He nodded, partially relieved, but also disappointed because he wanted more of a commitment.
Still, after they settled into his bed, he kissed her lightly on the lips, before curling around her. Within minutes they were in exhausted slumber.
Last Dreams 