Garrett

She's sitting on my bed when I come out of the shower. Having expected an empty room, I stop in my tracks.

She snickers. "Sorry, I let myself in. Thought you wouldn't mind."

"I don't," I say. "Just a bit jumpy today."

I open the closet and pick a shirt and a pair of pants. It's been messy when I left, dirty clothes stuffed together with the clean ones, but now everything is clean and neatly folded. Looks like she had let herself into my closet as well. I glance at her with one eyebrow raised.

"I was nervous," she says. "It calmed me down to do your laundry. Your clothes smelled like you."

"Not necessarily a good thing."

She smiles. "I also got some extra provisions and cooked you soup. I brought it now."

I become aware of the pleasant smell coming from my kitchen. "Wow. Thank you."

She gets up and walks over to me. "It kept me busy." She takes the clothes out of my hand and drops them to the floor. Then she puts her hands around me and presses her face to my chest. I hug her with one hand, holding the towel wrapped around my waist with the other.

"I was so worried when you didn’t return," she says to my chest. "I went to Rykar in the morning and said that if he doesn't arrange a rescue mission, I'll go alone."

"Angie…" I'm not sure what to say. It makes me feel kind of bad when she's so good to me. I did nothing to deserve such devotion.

"You took such risk, and for what?"

"I found two kids in the city," I remind her.

"Yes, but you only went there to bring that Julian back."

Technically, I went there to kill him, but I can’t explain her my failing to do so. I haven’t quite explained it to myself yet.

"I should go check on him," I say.

"He's in his cell. The guards are there."

"I should check they're not…mistreating him. He could still be useful to us."

"No, he couldn't." She moves away and looks up at me. "Garrett, why do you care about him? I don't know what good you see in him, but it's just not there. He almost killed Kano."

"Kano had almost killed him. It was an act of desperation."

"Why do you keep defending him?"

I shrug. "I'm not sure. He just seems…not entirely bad. He could be reasoned with."

She shakes her head. "You can't reason with the royals. You father made that mistake and that was the end of him." She pauses. "Did you ask Julian what happened to your father?"

That takes me by surprise. "We know they killed him, and the others."

"We don’t exactly know."

I draw away from her. Why this topic, all of a sudden? "It hadn’t occurred to me to ask Julian. He probably wouldn’t know or wouldn't tell the truth, anyway."

"See, you do admit he can't be trusted." She folds her hands on her chest. "I'm sorry I mentioned your father. It's just… Garrett, you're a kind guy, but why waste your kindness on an enemy?"

I ponder it for a few seconds. "Guess I wasn't prepared to be meeting them face to face. Actually talking to them. I should just go back to shooting them off the sky."

"Maybe you should. You're a warrior, not a politician. Talking is not your thing."

I nod at the shirt and the pants on the floor. "May I get dressed now?"

"Only if you get undressed first."

She pulls at my towel and it slides to the floor. The room is mostly dark, the only light coming from the half open bathroom door, but I still feel exposed standing naked like that while she is fully dressed. She puts her hands on my chest and traces the outlines with her fingers. Her hands are warm, her touch is soft. Nothing like Julian's cool fingers when he put his hand on mine in his cell.

Tired as I am, my body reacts. I lean in for a kiss, and she raises her face to meet my lips. My hands begin to work on the buttons of her shirt, meeting half way down her own fingers doing the same job. I pull her towards the bed. We lose her shirt before we get there. She draws back, panting, then wriggles out of her pants, and pulls me onto the sheets.

It's not the first time we do it here, but something is different. I feel distracted, as if I'm both acting and seeing the two of us from the side. Julian's words come to mind, about the 'Viking type' woman, big and blond and strong, probably stronger than me. She could snap his tiny wrist, for sure, but I don’t think she's stronger than me. I don’t even think I ever considered her in terms of 'big' or 'strong' or anything. Ever evaluated her in any way. She had always just been Angie—good, devoted, straightforward Angie, and being with her was as natural as breathing.

As I slide into her, her blue eyes stare into mine. I begin to move, and, soon enough, her gaze loses its focus. In the weak light, her eyes seem to change their color. For a second, they seem hazel. Like Julian's.

Why on earth am I thinking about him now?

"Garrett?" She's looking at me again, her eyes as blue as they have always been. We're still moving in unison, but she senses the strangeness, too. "Are you okay? You seem… distracted."

"I'm okay," I puff, but I'm not, really. I'm still hard, so I keep going, but I can't shake the strange feeling off. After a while, she closes her eyes, and we just keep moving until her nails dig into my back, and she gasps, and her body stiffens. Almost immediately, the familiar rush washes over me, too. It sweeps me away, and the welcome release finally clears my mind of all worries and doubts. I grunt and slump on top of her, spent and blissfully thoughtless.

"I love you," she whispers, while I lay there, panting. I shift and kiss her gently on the lips. I know it's not enough. She wants to hear the words.

But I can't bring myself to say them yet.

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