She turned then, looking at him.
He found himself glad of the seat between them again when her eyes focused seriously on his. That vulnerability grew even more prominent in her light, enough that he found himself averting his gaze.
“Are you tired, Revik?” she said.
Realizing what she was asking him, he felt his skin flush with heat. Pain rippled through him, enough that he couldn’t answer her at first, or look at her.
His voice came out soft when he finally spoke, low enough that he fought to make it louder so she could hear him.
“Allie,” he said. “Allie, the plane… the whole plane… it’s a construct.” He forced himself to look at her. “We can’t. I want to… gods. I want to, Allie… so much. I can’t even…” He shook his head. “But we can’t… not here…”
There was a silence.
She didn’t move, didn’t change expression, but he realized his mistake the instant before she looked away, her jaw hardening. He raised a hand in apology, speaking quickly, feeling his shoulders tense even as he took a step towards her.
“Allie,” he said. “Allie, I’m sorry. I don’t mean you, Allie. I wasn’t accusing you…”
“I wasn’t offering you sex,” she said.
Her voice was dull now, almost tired.
“I know. I’m sorry…”
“I wasn’t offering that," she said again. “I wasn’t, Revik.”
She met his gaze, and his heart hurt, forcing him silent briefly.
“I didn’t mean you, Allie,” he said finally. “I swear to the gods I didn’t.”
He stepped towards her, and she backed off, towards the bunk he’d indicated for her earlier. Her face looked openly wary now.
“Allie,” he said. “I’m sorry. Gods, I’m sorry. Please… please forgive me.”
She stared at him, her green eyes glowing faintly.
He knew she didn’t believe him, even before her gaze narrowed slightly. She looked away, off somewhere to the side, her eyes unfocused as she seemed to be pulling back her light. He watched as she folded her arms tighter in front of her chest.
He could barely feel her at all now.
“Goddamn it, Allie,” he said, his voice thick. “It’s not you! It’s me.”
She shook her head, closing her eyes, longer than a blink.
“Forget it,” she said. “It’s okay. I’m just tired.”
She looked at him then, and he felt that vulnerability on her again. He forced himself to hold her gaze, to not look away.
“I wanted you to stay,” she said slowly. “I was asking you to stay. I wasn’t going to do anything. I won’t even touch you, if you don’t want.” Seeing him flinch, she reddened again. “Revik. I meant your hand, anything. I didn’t mean––”
“I know,” he cut in. “I know what you meant, Allie.”
For a moment, they only looked at each other.
He realized then, that she’d forced herself to say it, to admit she wanted him there.
His pain worsened, enough that he couldn’t speak.
He watched, unmoving, as she turned towards the bunk set into the outer bulkhead. He felt another coil of pain reach his light when she walked away from him. She pulled the curtain aside, bending down to peer into the low-ceilinged bunk. There was a pause where he felt her scan the space, both with her eyes and her light. He continued to watch her as she crawled inside, her movements still almost cautious.
She closed the curtain a moment later.
He couldn’t see her once she had. He could still feel her though. He felt the embarrassment on her, what bordered on shame, a kind of frustration that lost itself in the vulnerability he’d felt on her while she’d been looking at him. But it was more than that, too. He felt heavier things there, a denser sadness that hurt him with its intensity, that felt connected to him. Along with that, he felt a flush of anger she aimed at herself.
He felt whispers of her time with the Lao Hu in that.
He felt the other on her as well, those added structures in her light, what he’d felt when he’d looked for remnants of the Dreng in her aleimi. He’d seen those structures before, of course; he saw them in the reception hall of the Lao Hu, from the moment he set eyes on her. He felt them the moment he’d touched her with his light.
He knew the other seers reacted to the same thing in her, and not only the males.
The clothing the Lao Hu dressed her in only made it worse.
Then he remembered what he’d said to her before she left those caves. He remembered the look on her face, the resignation he’d felt in her then, too.
She probably thought… Christ.
She probably thought he wanted her because of that. She probably thought he wanted to sample what the Lao Hu taught her. After what he’d said to her in the tank, after what she’d seen about him, as a kid, she probably thought––
Pain reached him, intense enough that he clutched his shirt.
For a moment he only stood there, trying to breathe it back.
Once he could move, he did. Without thought, he crossed the space to the bunk where she was. He didn’t speak to her, not even through the curtain, but kicked off his shoes while he stood outside. He took off his jacket once he had, flipping it off his shoulders and leaving it on the nearest airplane seat.
He felt eyes on him and glanced to his left, saw Garensche watching him through the curtain. The giant seer winked at him, gesturing a sign of encouragement that made Revik’s jaw harden again.
Taking a breath, he pulled the curtain back with one hand.
He saw her flinch, jumping a little before she glanced over her shoulder at him. Her face reflected a startled surprise, white against the dark blue of his shirt. She’d been curled up on her side, her knees drawn up where she faced the windows of the bulkhead. Only one of the window shades was open, but it shed enough light that he could see all of her.
“Can I?” he said, gruff.
She looked up at him, her eyes still holding that bewilderment.
He saw her frown then, saw her wanting to argue with him––
He didn’t wait. He crawled inside on his hands and knees, pausing only to close the curtain behind him. He knew Garensche would probably tell the others he’d come in here with her, but he didn’t care about that, either.
Crawling deeper into the low space, he shifted his weight so he was lying on his side. He settled onto his back a second later, lying almost flat on the dense mattress and blanket, only a few feet from her. His eyes never left hers.
He held out a hand when she continued to look at him, an invitation.
She didn’t move, but he saw her eyes shift to his fingers. He saw her looking at the ring he wore again, and pain slivered through his light, enough to force his eyes closed.
“Please,” he said. He couldn’t keep the pain out of his voice. “Please, Allie. I won’t do anything. Please come here… please…”
When he could focus on her again, he saw doubt in her eyes.
He was about to try again, when he saw the doubt fade, replaced by what looked like more resignation. He was still watching her face when she turned over, until her body faced his. Hesitating another beat, she slid closer to him––close enough that he could wrap his arm around her shoulders, draw her the rest of the way to where he lay.
He pulled her up against his chest. He caressed her arm where she wrapped it around him, then curled it into her hair. For a moment, he couldn’t make himself breathe.
He fought back another reaction in his light, holding her tighter.
“Thank you,” he said.
“Revik,” she said. “It’s okay. You don’t have to stay. I mean it.”
“I know.”
There was another silence. He fought for words through it, trying to sort through the several hundred things he’d wanted to say to her for most of the time she’d been gone.
“I’m sorry,” he said finally. “I’m so sorry, Allie.”
She shook her
head against his chest. He felt more in her light, but she didn’t speak.
“I wanted to stay,” he said. “I want to talk to you. I just don’t want to…”
He hesitated, looking down as he caressed her hair.
“I want to be alone with you, Allie,” he said. “Really alone.”
There was another pause, then she nodded. He felt something in her light relax into his.
“I love you,” he said, feeling the pain in his light worsen. “I love you, Allie. I’m so sorry. I’m sorry about everything I did.” He fought for words, holding her tighter. He pulled her into the curve of his body, until his light was fighting to coil into hers even more. “Everything you did for me… in the tank. Before that. I don't know how you can forgive me… but I need you to, Allie. Gods, I know how unfair that is, but I need it so badly.”
She tensed in his arms. He had to fight not to react at first, then he felt her fighting her own light, trying to control her reaction to his words. Her fingers gripped his arm, grasping at the fabric of his shirt.
Kissing her, he held her tighter.
“I’ve missed you,” he murmured, caressing her face. “So much. I don’t want to be away from you… not even here. It’s not you. It’s me I don’t trust. Please believe me.” He hesitated, still touching her skin. “All those things you saw about me. They’re still there, Allie.”
Pain wafted off her, enough that he clutched at her tighter, feeling something in his light flare, fighting to get at hers as his self-control slipped.
Remembering the others in the next cabin, he forced that back as well, caressing her hair as he kissed her head, caressing her shoulders with the same hand, then her bare arm past the T-shirt, her fingers. Pain fought its way over his skin, but he ignored that, too, touching her face.
After another moment, she raised her head, looking at him. His pain worsened, pretty much as soon as her eyes met his. If she noticed, it didn't show on her face.
“Revik.” she began. He watched her think, saw her seem to be fighting with words, too. After another pause, she shook her head, caressing his jaw with her fingers. “I can't stay here,” she said. “I can’t stay with you. Not until…”
Feeling him flinch, she gripped his hair in her hand, shaking her head as she forced him to look at her.
“No. I don’t mean it like that. It’s not a threat, or a no. I just don’t want either of us to assume anything.” She swallowed. “I don’t want to assume anything, not unless we can get past this. I can’t be a part of your team. Not if we’re not…”
She trailed, right before her skin darkened.
Closing her eyes, she shook her head again, clicking softly.
“I can’t handle us fighting about this forever, Revik. I really can’t. I understand if you’re angry at me, or if you can’t accept what I felt I had to do. I wouldn’t blame you if you can’t get past it. But I need to know you’re sure this time, as much as you can be. I need to know you mean it, and I need to know if you can let it go… what I did with the Lao Hu.”
Hesitating, she met his gaze.
“…If we’re going to do this, I mean. Any of it.”
He was still looking at her, trying to understand, when she shook her head again, averting her eyes from his. Revik felt pain dart through his skin, nearly paralyzing him. He tried to replay her words, to make sense of them, but he couldn’t be sure in either direction. She was shielding from him again and he couldn’t make himself look away from her face.
He felt another whisper of pain on her, as she caressed his hair.
“You don’t have to answer now," she said. “I know I probably shouldn’t have said it now––”
“What if we got married?” he said, abrupt.
Her eyes drifted up.
He saw the puzzlement there, and shook his head, clicking softly.
“I mean a ceremony, Allie.” He stroked her face, putting light into his fingers. “What if we started over? Both of us.” Hesitating, he added, “Vash said we might have to anyway, in some respects. Our light––it’s different. Parts of yours are awake that weren’t before. And mine…” He trailed as he saw understanding reach her eyes. “It won’t erase everything. I know that. But we could start over.”
Her hand slid under his shirt, caressing his chest. He felt her merging into him tentatively as her fingers explored his skin. Briefly, he couldn’t move.
After another moment, he brought his light slowly under control.
“Allie,” he said. “Is that what you were asking me?”
Her eyes rose to his. After a pause, she nodded. “Yes.”
“Do you still want…” His fingers tightened on her. “Allie, is that a yes? To what I asked?”
After another bare pause, she nodded. He felt her light beginning to relax, despite the tension he could still feel sparking through both of them.
“Yes,” she said.
Something in his chest let go, leaving him lying there, unable to move again. Her hands were still exploring his skin, and he could only close his eyes, fighting for control as her fingers slid over his shoulder. His own hand found its way under her shirt, massaging her back, but he still couldn’t make himself look at her. His light was coursing through his hands, pulling at hers, growing more urgent when she leaned into his side. He knew he was hard––more than hard, he was fully extended, in more pain than he could remember being in since he was a kid, but he couldn't make himself let go of her.
He coiled a hand around her side under the shirt, pulling her arm around him, if only to keep her from touching more of his bare skin.
“Is this all right?” he said, gruff. “Is it all right, Allie?”
After another pause, he felt her nod again.
He was trying to decide if he should say more, when her light began opening tentatively to his. Not just the light in her hands and body––he felt other parts of her open that time, deeper levels in her light, layers he hadn’t felt since they’d been together in that cabin. It stopped his heart, blanked out his mind, nearly made him gasp, but he fought that too, forcing himself to relax into her as she did it, feeling something in his chest open in response.
His light gradually grew easier to control as her heart opened to his.
Once he could, he was pulling on her gently, coaxing her to wind her light deeper into his. He tugged at her leg with one hand, pulling her by the knee until he had it partly wrapped around him. He felt an almost debilitating relief when she slid her leg between his, resting her body deeper against his chest and side, her arm wound partway around his back.
He felt her close her eyes, her light still open, warm in his chest.
He closed his eyes too, willing his body to relax into the mattress. Another stab of pain caught him off-guard as his back unclenched against the dense foam.
Then he was just lying there, in pain, but feeling so much relief it brought tears to his eyes.
A few more seconds passed before he realized he felt the same on her.
Epilogue
SHADOW
THE OLDEST OF the six stood at a stone balcony. He balanced an angular hip against the moss-green carvings of flowers, face half-hidden by the hooded cloak that covered his head with its close-cropped, iron gray hair.
In the mountains it was cold as fall began to turn into winter.
He didn’t shiver though, even standing outside the heated room, and despite wearing only light pants and a linen shirt under the cloak. He stood perfectly still, as if carved from stone, looking out over the valley below.
The servant couldn’t see the elder’s expression, but he imagined it held some element of satisfaction, if not outright triumph.
None of them spoke as he unloaded the tray for their supper.
The servant glanced up, here and there, arranging the table with hand-painted china, adjusting silver spoons and forks, wiping his own fingerprints from the bases of glasses blown in the furnaces of the small town below the stone gates of the mountain c
hâteau.
He wondered if the ancient seer looked down on that town now, watching the sun glint off cobblestone streets, listening to the lowing of cows as they were brought in from the fields, their triangular copper bells clanking from leather collars around their necks.
Evening crept over the jagged peaks ringing the stone building, pulling long fingers across the valley. The last of the indigo light faded from the horizon on either side by the time the servant finished his work. Even so, he could see the other side of the colonial-built structure from the Barrier, the ocean lapping against an unfriendly coastline guarded by high bluffs, pock-marked by infrequent, stony beaches.
Those craggy shores held off even the most determined of ships. Most of the sand-covered stretches lived further south and north of this desolate corner of Patagonia.
No one came to this part of the world to indulge in tourism. In fact, very few came to this part of the world at all, as most of the land for almost a thousand miles belonged to a handful of private owners who did not encourage visitors of any kind.
In most respects, the town below was not dissimilar to the previous peasant, or campesino village that once lived outside these gates. The previous landowner may have lived a few hundred years earlier, but the relationship between the town and its master remained the same, untouched by time or history.
In this part of the world, such an arrangement had once formed the cornerstone of the hacienda system. Servants and workers of a particular patrón would cluster outside his gates, pretending a kind of freedom and loyalty that grew more out of disparity in class and genuine dependence than anything approaching real agency.
In Europe, it was called feudalism.
Still, the servant knew the arrangement was not terrible for those in the village. In the modern day, it fed their families, and gave them a sense of belonging they might not otherwise have enjoyed. It also freed them from many of the worst excesses of city life.
Here, the barter system remained intact, although those on both sides of the stone gates used modern currencies, as well. Headsets and feed terminals may have been in short supply in the township, but the world remained accessible in all ways inside the gates of the château and its guest compartments, for use by those in the town when such a need arose.
Shadow (Bridge & Sword: Awakenings #4): Bridge & Sword World Page 66