18. Wrenlee

18

WRENLEE

" D id you, awwwhm, do it?" Saylor asks, yawning in the middle of her sentence.

I stare at the smooth ceiling over the cubby that is my bed. She and I had discussed this yesterday. I was supposed to break it off with Sek'su. I didn't tell her when, though, so how does she know I met him last night?

"Do it?" I ask, trying to play ignorant of what she's talking about.

"You are not stealthy," she murmurs, suppressing another yawn. "I know you left last night, and I don't need three guesses to figure out where you went."

"You sure about that?"

"More so now than I was," she says.

"What?"

"You never play coy unless you don't like the answer."

I close my eyes and count to five because she's right. She knows me better than anyone, probably better than I know myself.

"Okay, yes, I saw him."

"And? Did you end it?"

I can't answer. My tongue feels as thick as the heavy leather that serves as our door and my mouth is too dry to work. I clench my fists and eyes while gritting my teeth. This shouldn't be so hard. It's never been hard before.

I've dumped so many guys for a heck of a lot fewer good reasons than this. But every time I even think about telling him it's over, there is an empty, aching hole in my chest where my heart should be and it feels as if I'm falling into a black nothingness from which I will never escape.

Saylor shifts in her cubby and I hear her climbing out. I feel her stare at me long before I can force my eyes open. When I do turn my head to look, she is barely a shadowy outline of a head but her eyes glisten brightly.

"Wren…" she whispers, putting her hand on my arm and squeezing.

"I know," I say, choking on the words.

"You have to," she insists.

I nod, but my mouth has apparently gotten a mind of its own.

"I can't."

The admission falls in the gap between us like a boulder plopping into a still lake. She pulls back far enough that the dim coals illuminate her. The expressions that race across her face go from surprise to disbelief to something akin to anger.

"You made these rules," she says angrily. "This was your idea."

"I was stupid," I answer. "I had no idea. We were young. I was dumb."

"She will use this to destroy you."

"I know."

Silence has a strange thickness to it.

How can the absence of sound be thick , I wonder.

I don't have an answer to that except that I feel it. Pressure is building behind my eyes and in my sinuses. I learned when I was a kid to control crying. I only do it when it will create the effect I want, otherwise I hold it back, but I've never felt it come on this strong before. I don't know if I can stop it.

"Shit," Saylor mutters.

"Yeah."

She slides her hand down my arm until she finds my hand. She doesn't say anything, and I don't either for a long while. I struggle, internally, to understand what is happening to me. What these feelings are and why I can't seem to resist him, no matter what I do. Why it is that all my resolve melts the instant I see him?

"Do you…" she trails off not voicing the final part of that thought, but we know each other so well she doesn't have to.

"I… think so. Yeah."

Who else could I ever do this with but my best, closest friend? Well, closest since Ziva died, but Saylor and Ziva and I were always pretty much inseparable.

"Shit," we say it in unison then we're both laughing until she snorts.

I climb out of the cubby and then stoke up the fire to warm the room. There is no furniture in our space, but we do have thick mats to sit on. She sits next to me, and we stare into the crackling fire together, watching the smoke rise into the chimney that protrudes from the ceiling.

"I suppose you could always just own it," Saylor says at last.

"Emery would destroy me if I did that," I say. "She's already suspicious, that would be like a nail in the coffin."

"Not necessarily," she says, tapping her chin as she thinks. "We'd have to play it right of course, but if we can't do that, then who could?"

"Huh," I grunt, not convinced.

We're silent for a while more. My thoughts keep coming back to how the devil is it that I can possibly feel like this.

"What's he like?" she asks.

I'm not sure if she's asking about his physicalness or him. I stare into the dancing flames trying to think of how to answer the question.

"He's sweet," I say at last.

"He did the painting, didn't he?"

"Yeah, he did."

"He's got talent," she says.

"In more ways than one," I say with a silly grin at the double entendre.

Saylor snorts and shakes her head.

"Right…" she trails off then glances over. "You're sure. This is… it."

I purse my lips. There is no doubt in my mind what she means by it, but the doubts I do have are if this is the real thing.

"How do you know?" I whisper.

Saylor sighs, heavily.

"Go with your heart?"

"What if my heart is a damn fool?"

"I don't know," she says shaking her head. "What else can you do?"

"I should end this," I say.

"You tried."

"Not very hard."

"No?"

"No, because as soon as I see him all I can think about is…" I don't finish the thought because I hear something.

It's soft enough that I'm only barely consciously aware of it, it's more of an instinct that something is not quite right. Saylor opens her mouth to say something, but I shake my head and quietly climb to my feet.

"How much I love that new bread they've been having in the dining hall. Have you tried it?" I ask, giving her a pointed look as I creep towards the door.

"I had some yesterday, I thought it was a little dry," she says, staring at the door, but not getting up. "I can't believe you actually like it."

Moving slowly I reach for the edge of the leather and then in a quick motion jerk it to the side yelling as I do.

"Gotcha!"

A small-built man with a wispy excuse of a mustache leaps back, eyes wide and a high-pitched yelp emerging from his sunken chest. He moves too far, though, and his foot is right on the edge of the walkway that spirals up from the arena floor. His yelp is even higher as he pinwheels his arms.

"Shit," I exclaim rushing towards him.

I grab onto his shirt and jerk forward with all the force I can muster. It pulls him from the edge, but he slams against me. We tumble back and I lose my balance, falling hard onto my ass. He comes down with me and though he's rail thin, he's crushing against me in a most uncomfortable manner. Especially because I'm not sure if the bone digging into my pelvis is his hip or something else.

"Sor… sorr… sorry," he stutters flailing around which only serves to grind his body harder against me.

My tits are being smashed and it's hard to breathe.

"Get… off," I huff, pushing at him.

He manages to roll to one side at last, lying on his back on the ground breathing heavily. He stares up at the ceiling and when I look, I have the unfortunate certainty that it wasn't his hip bone.

"Oh… wow…" he gasps, remaining flat on his back. "I can't believe that happened."

"Who in the holy hell are you?" Saylor asks, glaring down at him.

The way she's standing and has her hips cocked it looks like she might decide to crush his nuts any second.

"I'm… uh… I'm…"

"You do know Common, don't you?" Saylor asks. "Speak. Who are you and why were you creeping around our door? Do I need to call one of the guards?"

"No!" he screeches, his voice cracking.

I get back onto my own feet, adjusting my nightshirt to recover my stomach the instant I see his eyes lock onto that glimpse of my bare skin. He blinks rapidly while his mouth moves, then he slowly rises to a sitting position which puts his head level with Saylor's crotch. She doesn't move back, and he blushes the brightest crimson I've ever seen on a human.

"Well?" Saylor asks.

"My name is Carl…" Saylor and I roll our eyes at the same time.

"Carl…" she drawls his name out. "I told you not to lie… Carl. What's your real name?"

He blanches and darts his eyes between the two of us. Saylor pulls her leg back, clearly indicating she's about to kick him in his junk.

"Matt… my name is Matt!" he squeals, scrambling back while also trying to protect his manhood.

"Matt, good. What were you doing… Matt?" Saylor asks.

"I was…" he's searching for a lie.

As a consummate expert in lying, I know the signs when I see them, especially on one as inept as he clearly is.

"Do not lie," I say. "You will regret it."

His head darts back and forth as he looks between Saylor and me, but he finally lands on Saylor. She's clearly the greater threat since she's the one close enough to nail him in the nads. He drops his head and stares at the ground.

"It was a dare," he says.

"A dare from whom?" Saylor asks, her tone casual, as if she's asking about the weather.

"I… uh… I… promised…"

"You lost the right to keep your promise when you were stupid enough to get caught," I say, taking a step toward him. "Answer us or you can answer to the Zmaj who's on patrol right now."

I look over my shoulder acting like I'm about to call for help. He sputters as he scoots backward to the wall.

"No, no, please, no…" he begs. I pause and look back, arching an eyebrow. He burns hotter, the crimson becoming a richer shade. "Emery. It was Emery. She dared me to listen at your door. I swear that's all I was supposed to do. Listen, then tell her what I overheard."

I'm overcome with anger so hard and so fast I'm storming towards him without thinking it through. I don't have a plan except to take all this rage that's pulsing in my head out on something. Someone, and right now he'll do.

Saylor stops me with a hand to my chest. I glare at her, not wanting to stop but she mouths the word "no" as she shakes her head. Something about her calm demeanor cuts through the primitive impulse to hurt someone.

"And what is it you heard?" Saylor asks.

He splutters and it takes a moment for him to calm down enough to speak in something resembling Common.

"Nothing, really, nothing…"

"I told you not to lie," I say, turning my head and inhaling dramatically again giving him the impression I'm about to yell for help.

"You like someone," he shouts, cutting me off before I yell.

"Who?" Saylor asks.

"I don't know," he says, tears running down his face. "It's all I heard. I'd just gotten here and then my back spasmed and it hurt, and I had to move to get more comfortable then, you," he darts a glance at me, "jerked the door open and yelled and I was so scared. I knew I'd been caught, and I never should have agreed to do this, but she dared me and she said?—"

He cuts off the running diatribe so fast that the silence in its wake is deafening.

"She said what?" Saylor asks.

He shakes his head.

"Nothing. She said nothing. Just dared me. Who can resist a dare, right?"

"Right," I say in a musing tone, but the look on my face makes it clear I'm not amused in the slightest. He blanches as I look at Saylor and shrug dismissively. "He's lying."

I take a dramatic breath in, clearly getting ready to yell.

"No!" he yelps, his voice cracking. "No. No. I'll tell you. Everything. Please, not one of them. Please."

I look at him feigning sympathy for his position.

"You left off at she said…" I prompt.

He closes his eyes, clenches his teeth, and swallows hard enough that I can see his Adams apple convulse.

"She'd show me her… you know."

"No," I say, looking back to Saylor. "Do you know?"

She smiles tightly. "Nope. I'm afraid I don't. What is it that Emery promised to show?"

"Her… boobs…" he mutters the words, not looking up, clearly unable to look either of us in the eye.

"Her… what?" I ask, poking him with my foot.

"Her… boobs," he murmurs again.

"I'm sorry, can you hear what he's saying, Saylor? Ever since the crash my hearing just hasn't been the same."

"I can't hear him either," she agrees.

"Her boobs, okay? She promised to show me her boobs if I came back with… something good."

I shake my head and give a sad sigh.

"This is what humanity has evolved to," I say. "Sad little men are driven by the desire not even for sex, which I think I could understand, but to be a voyeur."

"I'm sorry," he says, a pleading note in his voice. "It was… stupid. But she… she's really pretty. I mean, well, you both are too… but it didn't seem like that big of a deal. I wasn't going to hurt anyone. I just had to listen and only for a few minutes. She told me that I'd know it when I heard it."

"But she didn't tell you what that thing was?" Saylor asks.

"No, she said it would be obvious. But… it wasn't. I mean what does it matter if you like some guy, right? I mean given your reputa—" He was turning his eyes between Saylor and I as he cut himself off short before finishing that thought. He swallows again and seems to shrink in on himself. "Shit. I mean… I didn't mean it like that… I mean you're really pretty. Have I said that?"

"Get out of here," I say, turning back towards our room.

"No, wait," Saylor says causing me to stop with the door partially open. "You go back to her, and you tell her…" We lock eyes, I'm not sure what she's thinking but I know enough to keep my mouth shut and play the role I need to. "That Wren is sleeping with…"

She trails off trying to come up with a name on the fly that will be a suitable misdirection from the truth.

"Bert," I insert for her, and her eyes widen then she's grinning so wide it must hurt.

"Bert?" he asks clearly confused. "The supplies guy? Serious?—"

He stops himself on seeing my dark glare.

"You have a problem with Bert? He's ten times the man you'll ever be and let me tell you he has a really big…" I trail off letting him form his own thoughts of what I'm going to say, and the widening of his eyes make it clear he went right where I was leading, "heart."

He chokes as he shakes his head then he's nodding so enthusiastically, that I worry it might snap his neck.

"Right, of course, right," he says repeating himself. "Can I, can I, can I go now?"

"Get out of here," Saylor says. "And don't do this again. Maybe, if you're lucky, you'll get to see Emery's tits. Tell her the left one is lopsided if you do."

He leaps to his feet and is halfway gone when he pauses and turns around.

"Really?" he asks.

Saylor snorts and shakes her head, motioning him away with her fingers. He takes the hint and leaves. We stand in the door watching until he's out of sight. Only then do we go back into our room.

"Lopsided?" I ask.

She shrugs and chuckles.

"It is, hadn't you noticed?"

"Can't say that I have."

"Well more than that, she knows it and she is incredibly self-conscious about it, so why not? Bitch wants to spy on us, let her have a taste of her own medicine." I smile and chuckle. "Now yours was a stroke of serious genius. Seriously, Bert? How did you even think of him?"

"He's nice," I say.

"Sure, he's a great guy, but he's old and kind of grumpy. Why would anyone believe you're banging him?"

"Emery probably won't, but the idiot will, and he'll tell everyone he knows. You know how it goes."

"Only too well," she says, shaking her head then laughs. "Bert. You are too much."