Part 2.5

 

He was sitting on the foot of the bed, lacing up a pair of boots, with just his cargo pants on. Looking up, those beautiful eyes were dead. While they seemed to have all life that gave them color, they were pale now. A pale color only worse contrasted by the purple rings that rested beneath them.  Revealing what must've been weeks of sleepless nights.

 

His expression slacked slightly at the sight of me, but recovered. Looks like that brick in the wall remained uncemented, the lightened fluster of color around his irises could account for that.

 

He looked back down, finishing his boot, my hand slipped from the door handle and joined the other behind my back. He stood up, his demeanor less rugged than when I first entered. Anyone would felt the tension shift within moments. He stood up, walking forwards, till he was chest to nose with me.

 

He looked down at me, catching eyes, I hardly noticed him reach behind back for something on the dresser. My expression remained stoic, machine like. He seemed to notice, frown embossing on his solid, angular jaw.

 

Then his eyes migrated downwards, he looked at my clothing, a uniform, with the exception of my jacket. His jacket. I had hardly let it out of my sight since he left, I cried alone in my bedroom when I finally accepted that his smell was gone.

 

His face sobered up some and he fiddled with the collar. Reluctantly, I slid it off and held it out to him. His expression read as surprise. "I figured you would be wanting it back."

 

His jaw set and his eyes flickered with color again, "Keep it, these hallways get drafty."

"I hadn't noticed." My sentences were short and clipped, I slipped the jacket back on over the uniform top. He gave me a look, "Militaristic doesn't suit you."

 

I swallowed, and regained the hardened glared in my pupils. "I appreciate the input."

 

He sighed again like he had before, as if I was being difficult. "Sit down, make yourself comfortable."

 

He sat back down in the foot of the bed and nodded to an office chair that sat besides his desk. His was simple, not grand or expensive like those in the rooms besides him. I made a mental reminder to think that over later.

 

"I’ll stand." I did catch the way that his face fell slightly, but he had learned before how to cover up emotion with distant emotionless talk. "Will you just -", he was getting frustrated, it was in his tone of voice whilst he was nearly yelling before he calmed himself and said, "Will you please sit."

 

Sighing I bent my knee slightly and winced to myself, so I leaned against the dresser instead. "I hurt my knee a few weeks back, bending it is an issue." He turned towards me and waved towards himself.

 

Slowly, gingerly, I moved as he directed, placing my boot on the space of bed between his legs. His hands rubbed up the side of it, pulling out the laces meticulously.

 

Carefully, with a gentle touch I didn't know he had, he pulled it off. I let my foot rest lightly on the bedding, toes slightly pointed. Still leaning against the dresser, and eyeing him sullenly.

 

He glanced and caught my eye, before turning down again. He rolled up the pant leg slowly, pushing it up. The tenderness in the joint of my knee worsened at the bunched rough fabric neared it.

 

I gasped slightly, when it began to shift over it. In order to redeem whatever composure was left, I transformed the expression of shock into a question. "What are you doing?" I knew what he was doing, but I asked almost silently anyways.

 

He froze when he heard the gasp, widened and now fully pigmented eyes had fully directed themselves at my face. He could see straight through me, he had had the ability for longer than that.

 

"Those idiots in the infirmary never wrap anything right." He efficiently removed the ace bandage, the pressure increasing rapidly. It insights me to take a sudden hiss of breath, and maintaining a steady eye on him.

 

Using the deadly speed that years of training awarded him, he applied pressure to the sides of the patella. Again, much more slowly this time, releasing it and allowing the blood flow to return more leisurely.

 

"You could work there. I'm sure you wouldn't have the best track record with hospitality, but..." He delivered me a look from his position at the bed.

His eyes didn't return to my knee however, the remained trained on my own. With the exception of a few moments in which they flicked nonchalantly to his work with the wrap. It was slightly unsettling, to be honest with myself. But while it was unnerving, it was also fond.

 

He finished, reattaching the clip and securing it. But he didn't move away right afterward. His hand rubbed and massaged my calf, gently at the knee and then my thigh and hamstring. I raised a softhearted, suspecting eyebrow at his antics.

 

He wasn't smirking, but the twitch around his smile lines suggested that he wanted to. Again his hand rubbed out the muscles, this time near my next highest joint.

 

"How's your hip been?" He grumbled out, he was leaning forward, lips grazing just above my knee. My eyelids grew heavy till they sealed with relaxation that emanated from the body across from my own.

 

"Sore." Again in clipped sentences, "Still pops and clicks when I walk, although I haven't had it dislocate in a while." His rough, calloused hands ceased their movement, and I peeked at him, the displeased frown had reinstated its place on his lips.

 

"I'm fine." I murdered, eyes resting again.

 

"I'm sure that's all you've said since I've been gone." He spit out, glaringly, I flashed at him. His expression was joking, but the words held the tone of another story.

 

"I still find it more self-explanatory than the last thing you said to me." Within moments, the emotion was stripped of his features, replaced by a cold, stony expression that highly resembled the other looks he given me pre-departure.

 

He withdrew his arms, staring at me with judgemental glances. I moved swiftly to pull away my foot, though his proximity to it did help for him to take firm hold of my appendage.

I was turned around, facing the door, ankle trapped in a rock solid grip of a person with experience in holding things hostage. "Let me go." With a voice void of emotion, I could feel the air shift again.

 

And once more it was my doing, I could feel the muscles in my face go lax. A new case in which my irises were run dry and dead, frightfully even more so than when he was absent.

And then my foot was free. With it, I nudged forward the boot, shoving it on and bending down hastily to tie the strings. I didn't have time, he gripped my bicep, and whipped the body to face his.

 

I had to tilt my head up as he was forced to lead his down, he was only mere inches away. Of course a thought occurred to me that even with all my attempts to discard and bury away, he wouldn't let be. I knew that he had relived it to.

 

"The last time we were this close was when I left." If my expression was not sullen before, it was then. As was his, in the closeness, I could see a gauntness in his cheeks not seemingly present before.

 

"The last time we anything was when you left", words bland, and blunt, he swallowed as if his throat were suddenly bone dry.

 

"Are you upset because I left", it wasn't much of a question. It certainly didn't sound like one, but a tone chimed in his voice like he had to know.

 

"I'm not upset because you left, I'm angry because you wouldn't listen. And disappointed because you forgot."

 

His expression softened, "I didn't forget anything." I squinted as his thumb caressed my cheek.

 

"No", I tried to readjust whatever grip I had on my strength of self-control I had. "You can't just come back and do this."

 

His expression wavered between disappointed the moment ended, confused by my words, and angry at the accusation. "Do what?"

 

I scoffed at him, "You know what. Come back in here playing mind games."

 

"So you would have rathered I not come back at all?"

 

I breathed in anger and frustration. "I ran across the compound." He seemed taken aback at the notion. "You are playing mind games and twisting my words and that's not for you to do anymore. The roles have been reassigned and its odd and alien, and just-" I ran out of words to describe the situation.

He stood and stared in jittering silence as I began self deconstruct. Yanked out the hair tie, raked a shaky hand over my scalp.

 

"Whatever happened out there that made you so soft -"

 

"I am not soft." He growled harshly, taking an intimidating step towards me, though there wasn't much room left to move. "It brought a few important things to light." He calmed his words following that sentence. He sounded like he was preparing for a challenging admission.

 

But I was still steaming, "Oh, okay so it made you realise that life is worth kindness, blah blah blah."

 

His expression was seething, and for a moment I though it all directed at myself. "No, it made me realize that I don't have the time I thought I did. So I came here specifically for something, someone. Someone infuriating and irritating and perfect and beautiful. Not as soft as she once was but I'll take what I can get."

 

I swallowed, taking a breath and shuddering inside at out when he looked me up and down afterward. "And I'll give you a hint. She's wearing a red and grey hunting jacket." I didn't have too look down to know what he was talking about.

 

"No."

 

"No what?”

 

"It can't be this easy."

 

He smiled a real, genuine, heart shattering smile. "It's as easy as, one, two, thr-"

 

I cut him off with a grasp to the nape of his neck. Pulling him forwards and planting a long deserved, very climactic kiss to his lips.