Chapter 4

Idon't know what to expect when I put it in my mouth. At first it tastes like a slightly dirty leaf. Am I supposed to chew it? Let it sit?

My mouth waters and coats it and then the taste changes. My tongue tingles in a kind of pleasant way then there are waves of flavor that wash over my tastebuds. Instinctively I chew. The flavor increases and almost as if it's a strong alcohol I feel a burn as I swallow it. Warmth suffuses my throat and then settles into my stomach from where it radiates out to my limbs.

I look around the room, carefully keeping my hair placed over my face but no one is paying any attention to me. Which is normal. I try to spot him so I can thank him for the gift but he's gone.

The only thing to do at this point is go to work. I bus my dishes as we're all supposed to do and only then do I remember that I ran off yesterday without putting my supplies away. That will get me a demerit for sure.

Shoulders slumping at the thought I go to my workstation, ready to be reprimanded by my superior. When I walk in the room though he doesn't say a word. He only glances up from the tablet in front of him and points at the assignment board. Frowning, I check my day"s assigned sections and then go to the supply closet to get what I will need.

He has to know, why is he not mad?

There is nothing missing from the closet. Every item is stored exactly as it should be and since I'm the first one to arrive it's full. Someone must have put my supplies back for me. But who?

Pushing it aside I gather up the supplies and go to the area I am supposed to clean today. There are four of us on the cleaning crew now and we are staggered through the day. The area I'm assigned to today is a low traffic one, thankfully. Close to the engines that keep the electricity running which is kept mostly off limits so no one can accidentally tear anything up. I'm the only cleaner that comes into the area because before the crash I was on the maintenance crew.

I hate the area now though and wish anyone else would take it over. As I get closer the side of my face aches. It has no reason to and I know it, this is only the memory of pain, burned into my flesh. Waiting, ready to pounce back out every bit as fresh as it was in the first place, though maybe not as intense as it was when it happened.

I keep close to the wall of the hall. My full hands is the only thing keeping me from rubbing the scars to try and ease the phantom pain. The rattle of the engine grows louder. It's not in good shape and I know it as well as anyone.

Please don't be here. Please be somewhere else. Anywhere else.

I do not want to see Jean. The pity on her face is more than I can handle. Her regrets only make me feel worse, whether that is what she intends or not, it's what happens every time. I pause at the door to the control room that I'm supposed to clean and press my ear against the steel, listening for any hint she is in there.

The only sound is the thundering of my own heart. If she's in there, she's not talking, which would be unusual for her. Jean likes the sound of her own voice almost as much as she likes to have things hyper organized. I press the panel to open the door and it whooshes aside.

"Oh!" I exclaim the instant the door opens enough for me to see inside.

"Huh? Oh, uhm…" Jean stumbles over words.

The bucket slips from my hand momentarily forgotten until it hits the floor splashing cleaning solution over my legs and feet. The seven foot plus Zmaj who was just engaged in an intense make out session with Jean turns around. At first, I think it's him, Provyd, but then I see it's not. It's another one of the Zmaj. When did she get hooked up with one of them?

"Kai," Jean says, tugging the zipper of her jumper back up and adjusting her clothing.

"Sorry," I say, dropping my head back down and letting the curtain fall over my scars. "I'm supposed to clean, I'll come back."

I bend to grab the bucket and make it one step before she responds.

"No, wait," Jean says. I pause, half-turned away and not wanting to turn back, both because I am really uncomfortable having interrupted their moment of intimacy as well as not wanting to look at her in general. "Kai, please. It's fine. My bad, I should have known it was cleaning day."

"I'll come back," I say again, taking another step.

"There is no need," the Zmaj says. His voice has a rich timbre to it that feels as if it resonates in my bones. "I need to go with my brothers to help harvest more epis. I was merely saying goodbye to my mate."

I feel their eyes burning into my back. I should turn around. Should say something. But what? The muscles in my neck and shoulders are so tight and knotted up that I can barely keep from shaking. It's making my head hurt too.

I hear the sound of a kiss, then murmured goodbyes and the Zmaj walks past. He pauses in front of me, but I keep my head down.

"It is a pleasure," he says in passable Common. "I am sorry for the display if it made you uncomfortable."

"Heh," I say, more a noise than a response because I don't know what to say.

Saying yes, it made me uncomfortable? Walking in on intimacy like that is never comfortable. Especially knowing no one will ever love me, touch me, or look at me with anything less than pity at the best and horror at the worst.

He walks away without further words but I'm still standing here in the hall needing to turn and do my duties, but not wanting to face Jean. It is an effort of will to force myself to turn and enter the room. I set my bucket and supplies down then grab my brushes. All the while I feel her eyes on me. Watching, waiting, expecting what? I have nothing to give, all I want is for this to be over as fast as possible.

"Kai, I'm sorry," Jean says.

She doesn't explain what she is sorry about and thankfully she doesn't come closer either. I dip the brush in the solution and scrub the floor in silence. We've said all these words before and I have no absolution for her. In truth it's not her fault. It's not anyone's fault. It was a horrible twist of fate that left me the way I am. What else is there to say?

I think that the silence has gone on long enough that she might leave it alone. I think, but then she moves closer. My heart speeds up and my stomach tightens. Please don't do this Jean. Please. But she does. She kneels in front of me and then places a hand on my shoulder.

"Kai," she says, gently squeezing. "I want to help."

"I know," I say, my throat is tight and those damnable tears push hard against my eyes again. "It's fine."

"It's not fine," she says. "It shouldn't have been you. I'm so sorry."

"Can you not? Please?" I ask, anger burning away the tears with its sudden appearance and I lift my head to face her head on.

Regret almost quashes the anger the moment our eyes meet. The pity in hers is too much to bear. I can't stand it, damn it. The situation sucks, but pity gets me nowhere.

"Kai, it was an accident. I know you"re hurting but we were friends?—"

"Were," I snap, dropping my head and jerking my shoulder free of her grip. Her soft gasp makes me feel worse. She doesn't deserve my anger either and knowing that it evaporates as fast as it came. "It's not your fault, but I'm fine."

"Kai you're hurting. Let me?—"

"Jean," I say, speaking softly and calm, I look at her through the strands of my hair. "I am fine. Do not worry about me, please. Now I need to do my duties. Please."

She frowns, opens her mouth then snaps it shut. Her eyes glisten with unshed tears but she nods and leaves. And at last I'm alone. In the room where it happened.

I look over at where I was thrown and trapped during the crash. My face pressed to the red-hot metal of the engine desperately trying to keep the ship from falling into the gravity well of the planet. The moment that destroyed my face and my life. The phantom pain throbs but it's only memory. Memories don't do anyone any good.

I scrub the floors harder. Hoping that maybe, somehow, I'll be able to scrub away the memory and the pain too.