Ami-chan Writes

Because I woke up from dreaming it and it won't leave my brain: 

The bus slowing down wakes me up and I stretch as much as I can considering hands cuffed with the bar and legs on a chain. I hear the guy in the back complaining that if we're stopping can he at least piss. The guard with the driver is muttering about, “what the fuck is going on?” and I lean so I can see through the gap between them there's flashing lights on the cars in front of us but then for a moment there isn't and then there are again, and that itching on my back left shoulder in that all to familiar spot—people using powers.

Fuck.

Fuck me.

Calm.

Breathe.

I look around. There's a sharp edge on the seat across from me and I slice the side of my finger on it and wipe the blood against my other finger and I can feel it then and pull down to break the bar between my hands so that it will be long and then snap the cuff off me and then break the leg chains too.

“The fuck, man?” I hear from behind me, “You could do that this whole time and you've just been sitting here?”

They're approaching the front of the van now, and I slink down towards him.

“Do me, right?”

“If you shut the fuck up. These are not good people, and they will fuck with your brain. Get out the back and run because not just your life depends on it.”

He nods. I snap his leg shackles off first and then his arm bar. Two bars are better than one if it comes down to it, which I have a feeling it will. Then I make my finger bleed again and rub it against my palm break the lock and handle off the back door and we jump down to the ground. He bolts for the tree line and I'm about to follow when somebody steps between us.

“Garriden,” soft, molasses female voice. I don't recognize her, but obviously she's Watch, and I can smell the power on her, mind stuff, of course. They'll have had people by each door I realize now, because it won't have taken much to over power one guard and one driver. I'm not some murdering psycho as for as the prison knows so it's not like they have a whole troop in there keeping an eye on me. She must be pinging people to come here. Yeah, I can hear them moving now.

“You don't want to do that,” she pushes as I move to knock her out of the way with one of the metal bars, but I do, and I do, and while she tries to deflect thick metal against the arm is painful and she doesn't make much mental effort to stop me as I run, but then I can feel it tugging at me to slow down. I have to keep going though. I have to.

But it's difficult. I'm tired, but I slept on the bus I shouldn't be tired. I'm not tired. I push forward. The trees seem further away though. They're fucking with my head. They have to be. Gotta keep going. Get out of their range but my legs are so heavy.

Fuck.

I hear the sound of the metal bars dropping out of my hands and clattering on the ground before I realize what I've done and then I'm on my knees myself, and an overwhelming tingling is going through me and my body can't move for two reasons the second of which is being tazed. I forgot how much that sucks and I want to get back up once my limbs stop being on fucking fire but no I can't because there are three different voices in my head that aren't my own reminding my how my I want to stay still and how drained and tired I am, and how much I want to cooperate and I do.

“We got him,” I hear someone saying, as two others are dragging me to the cars which definitely do not have light bars.

 

I'm in the back seat of one of the cars, sandwiched between two Watch people. I'm not cuffed in anyway but I feel like I've been neutered.

“We'll stop prodding your brain,” one of them says, “If you don't try to fight us the minute we let go,” she's in the front seat, but is not the one I hit with the cuff bar. She is not in this car, “besides if you fight us it's not going to do you much good right now. We're going 80 down the interstate.”

“Miles to go before we sleep,” the driver remarks.

“So,” the woman says, “What have you been up to the past few years? Stephenson's been very worried about you.”

“I'm sure,” I lean back as best I can in the space I have and shift position trying to scratch the brand on my shoulder without being able to scratch the brand on my shoulder. I haven't been around this many people with abilities in a long time. There were maybe one or two in prison and they didn't really have any idea about themselves and it was easy enough to stay out of their way, “because he hasn't looked up what I was in for and neither have you, I'm sure.”

I expect a folder with my record on it to appear or maybe the Watch has sprung for her to show off and have an iPad to wave in my face but she just laughs and turns back around in the seat, “You got yourself a nice vacation that's for sure.”

“Oh, yeah. They let me out for walks once a day and everything. I'm going to leave harsh feedback about the view though, and they never said anything about having to share definitely not five stars. Transportation's pretty crap as well.”

“I'll be sure and tell Stephenson,” the driver remarks, “He was all up on the gas mileage.”

I can't help but roll my eyes.

The trip is long and dull. We're through Missouri and into Arkansas and they've agreed to let me out of the car for more than just to piss and change into something less conspicuous than prison dregs, which means we're out sitting in a restaurant like the most awkward family meal ever when one of the chicks who I've come to find out through their crappy conversations is called Joanna gets a call that appears both urgent and top secret because she almost trips bolting out of our vicinity and then out of the restaurant and into the parking lot to talk.

Doug leans over and begins to take her onion rings.

“That could end badly for you,” the guy whose been sitting on my left for the last several hours says. I think his name is Lucas.

Doug shrugs, “You could make her think she ate them.”

“Riight,” Lucas says, wiping his hands on a napkin, “We're just going to have a...what? Mind off?”

“You don't think you can take her?” Doug says.

Lucas shakes his head but more in the pity Doug's brain way than the I have no chance way. Joanna comes back around the same time that my other back seat companion comes back from the bathroom and sits down next to Lucas. She looks curiously over at Joanna.

“Change of plans,” Joanna says, looking to Doug, “We have to go to Kentucky.”

“Kentucky?”
“What the fuck for?” and various other complaints echo around the table.

“Where in Kentucky?” Doug has pulled something up on his phone which had been serving as the navigation for the trip so far, “No. No, cancel trip you bitch.”

“I'm not going to get into that here,” Joanna says, “and just plug in Summersville.”

“We're not doing that today,” Doug says, after a moment, “That's—another five hours.”

“No,” she says, “We're getting a hotel, and we'll head out in the morning. So, plug in the Hampton Inn and then we'll go over the rest of it.”

 

They slept in shifts so that there was always someone keeping an eye on me. I didn't sleep well. People patrolling and awake around me isn't unusual it was the fact I was sinking into the bed and the pillow and the place was so quiet.

Doug is sent downstairs to get food while others finish sleeping or get ready to go back on the road to Kentucky where I must find and kill someone. Someone who is apparently blighting fields and animals. Modern day witch hunt. Such fun.

“What did you think you were let out for?” Joanna says, when I protest, “This is what your family does. They cleanse they unfortunates and keep the rest of us safe. It was crops, now it's animals. You want to let them get on to people next?”

 

We make it to Kentucky by midday. Doug, Joanna and I are to be dropped in the town itself while the other two go off to make arrangements for a place to stay that's not in an area that “looks like it crawled out of the bottom of a muck spreader,” as Joanna puts it.

We stop on the way into town though because I can feel it, and there is the field one strip about three feet wide perfectly healthy crops and the rest withering and curling up. A couple of cars have stopped and people are looking on in wonder and horror too. There has to be something close, feel the pulsing in the shoulder and where it is in the air.

You know where it is? I hear Doug's voice in my mind and glare at him, especially as he's not got those abilities but then I see Joanna has her hand on his shoulder fingers extended towards his neck. I extend the glare towards her. Lucas leans against the side of the car, staring off over the field.

Answer the question her voice intrudes.

“Fuck you both,” I mutter.

Do you?

“It'd be a lot easier to work without you poking at me,” I point out. I step on my shoelace to give myself an actual reason to stop and tie it and look around from a different angle seeing if I can better orient what the hell my brand is doing and where it's trying to pull me. It's not like I've—that way. I pull the knot tight and look up. I hadn't seen him at first but he's on the other side of the gray-green truck looking both pissed and uncomfortable and it's around him like a cloud. Then he and the other guy he's with get in the truck and drive off towards town itself.

Joanna clearly knows that I've spotted something. She spins one finger around. Lucas opens the rear car door and waves me back inside next to Lindsey who wakes up when I slide in next to her and follows me inside and closes the door and Doug speeds off after the truck.

 

The truck is stopped at the parking lot of a local bar which is at the end of a strip mall. Lucas takes over driving and I follow Joanna and Doug into the bar. They're off to the right hand side around the corner of the bar sitting at a table drinking beer and tequila. Joanna points us into a booth where we have a good view of them.

“So,” Doug says, “You wanna start a fight or something?”

I give him a look as Joanna sets down drinks in front of us. Doug gets a bottle of beer, as does she. I'm given a glass of ice water with a chunk of lemon.

“What?” Doug asks with a vague amiable smile.

“Well, if you want to have to clean up a huge mess and deal with a bunch of witnesses then go ahead, but if this has to be done I was figuring on something a bit more discreet.”

“This has to be done,” Joanna says, turning the beer around on the table, “Stephenson's orders. This situation can't continue. You saw that field. You saw the pictures last night. If it keeps escalating...”

“If. What about recruiting? Isn't that the thing to do?”

“That must have been tried while we were picking up your ungrateful ass,” Joanna continues, “We're not the only people in Watch, you know.”

Doug snorts, “Vastly underpaid if we are.”

“Whatever,” I drain the glass of water, seeing as the guy is teetering towards the bathroom. It's less fair if he's halfway plastered but fuck, “Alright. Gonna hit the head.”

Joanna nods, and Doug gets up to let me out.

He's leaning his head against the wall while peeing and doesn't even move when I walk in. There's one other guy in there who is finishing up and leaves and I wedge the door shut after that betting the guy won't notice which he doesn't. He does notice me when he zips up and turns around.

“You...were...” he starts, waving a hand at me, “I've seen you.”

“In the bar?” I ask.

“Oh. Maybe,” but he's nervous, and I can feel the energy wavering around him already, knowing that's not just it. I close the distance quickly because who knows how soon someone's going to realize the bathroom door is jammed aside from not wanting him to fucking destroy something else just because he's talking to me and freaking out. Shit, “I coulda...sworn,” he starts, looking over at me and double checking because I'm closer and putting his hand against the wall.

“Maybe at the field?” I ask, “The one that was dying?”

He looks towards the wall and then the stalls avoiding my gaze. My skin is tingling through and I feel as though there must be a hole burning through the back of my shirt. I realize he's about to shove at me before he does and stop him, and despite his attempts to fight me off I get him into the larger of the stalls, head butting him to make him more cooperative. 

He flails some, scrabbling at me half-assedly but I don't have to do much to keep him away from me and then push him against the wall. The power floating around is diminishing but...I know it's still there, and I have to...just...

I bust his nose up because that I remember the blood is needed as the death happens, and I can feel it absorbing through the blood in my hands and then the neck snaps so easily and I push him onto the toilet with my elbow and leave the room unblocking the door. Joanna catches my eye as I walk out of the bathroom and spotting a door in the back of the bar go out of it. I'm sure she'll be following soon.

I'm not wrong.

She's putting her cell phone back in her pocket as she does, “Lindsey should be here soon. She and Lucas registered us and then she turned around and headed back.”

“Great.”

“We'll have to check in with Stephenson once we get back to the hotel,” she adds.

I lean against the wall, “I'm sure that will be just as lovely as yesterday.”

“You did a good thing,” she says, “You were very efficient and blood clean up is easy for you, I guess.”

I give her a look for a moment, “If you took some Watch classes on communication skills and tact you should get your money back.”

“Hey,” she shrugs, “Focus on the positives. No more melty cows.”

I am so glad to see the car pulling around the corner. Lindsey pulls to a stop a few feet away and climbs out of the front.

“Go inside and help Doug,” Joanna says, almost before Lindsey has her feet on the ground, “I'll send Lucas back for you as soon as I can.”

“Yes, ma'am,” Lindsey says, with an edge of sarcasm that gets her a glare.

“Well, come on,” Joanna says, “Look at you, getting to ride in the front for a change. Be excited.”

“Woo,” I tell her, dryly, walking around to the other side of the car, “you didn't have to get your hands dirty. See how you feel.”

“You think I've never had to do something like this?” she retorts, as everything gets closed up and we drive off, “Don't get all pity me when you know jack shit of the work I've done here.”

“Fine,” I stretch my arms out, assuring myself, nothing is flaring up with red rash given it feels like it should be everything going hot and tingly like it is, “Sorry. Did you get abducted and forced or were you just yes sir absolutely sir may I lick your ass sir?”

“This is for the greater good, you know? You've saved this community from financial ruin.”

I close my eyes and just breathe slowly. I can detach from this. Just remember like before. Like when I was a kid.

 

“Kennick!” It comes at me from both inside and outside my head in Joanna's voice, and I turn to where she is, outside the car with the door open staring—glaring at me, “You, seriously fell asleep on a twenty minute drive?”

I feel less like my body is on fire now I'm just sore. I pull myself out of the car, “You handle things your way I'll handle them mine,” I tell her, “Stephenson wanted me to do that because of how...my family...deals with things it has side effects, right? I know you...mind people get headaches, nose bleeds and things, yeah?”

She ignores me and turns towards the hotel and I follow her onto the sidewalk and into the hotel. It's another snooty one. The Watch is allowing themselves no discomfort on this trip.  

We're apparently on the fourth floor so I follow her into the elevator. I wonder if she does have a headache too and that's why she's being a bitch, or if she's just that way in general. She'll probably have aspirin or something though, but what'll it cost me to get some from her?

I focus on her ass, which is not unpleasant, as we're walking down the corridor to the room to keep myself straight with where we're going which is thankfully not too far because the knock on the door feels like it's breaking off bits of my temple and sticking them into the back of my eyes.

Lucas opens the door and Joanna hands him the keys, “Go help the other two. Make sure everything's squeaky,” she says, “Pick up food on the way back,” she reaches into her pocket and hands over a credit card as well.

“I'll call in to check on orders?” he suggests.  

She nods, “Laptop?”

He points into the room somewhere, and gives me a half-wave as he walks by me and back down the corridor. I follow her inside and sit on the edge of the bed across from the television while Joanna sets up the laptop and gets back on the cell phone, talking to someone at HQ. I lean back on the bed and shade my eyes with my arm so the light from the window isn't piercing into them because it feels as though they might start to bleed.

“Here,” Joanna is suddenly offering a bundle of something towards my ear, when I go to take it I realize she's standing where she completely blocks the light from me and that it's something cold wrapped in a towel, “put it behind your neck. It'll help.”

It does, quite a bit. After a moment I hear the whoosh noise of the night before, which is the video conference software engaging.

“Stephenson will be on the line soon,” Joanna says, quietly, “You'll have to talk to him.”

I sit up slowly, putting the towel wrapped bundle down behind me, just as the thing starts beeping and then she and Stephenson begin talking to each other, customary pleasantries.

“So, all went well?” I hear Stephenson say.

“As far as Kennick reports to me,” Joanna looks over.

Stephenson's dark brown, graying at the temples head turns to me with the question he doesn't repeat.

“The guy is dead in the bar bathroom and I'm the only one who was in there with him,” I answer, “I'm not sure what else..?”

“Transference,” Stephenson remarks, with much annoyance, “Joanna leave us,” he says, turning his head, “I'll have Allbright text you when you can come back.”

“Very well,” she says, and disappears into the bathroom. I hear another door open and close. This must be like the other hotel where we have two rooms connected through the bathroom.

Stephenson turns back to me waiting for my answer.

“Transference?” I repeat back, “Are you...the power thing?”

He sighs.
“You do remember that I wasn't exactly taught this stuff, right?”

His expression darkens, “and whose fault was that? You could have stayed where we were able to help you rather than running off in the middle of the night and abandoning your post. You see where that got you, don't you?”

I shake my head.

“Anyway,” he continues, “What did you experience physically? What did you see?”

Ugh, “The blood it was like it burrowed it's way into my skin and then I felt stronger like I do when I—when I bleed myself,”just keep going you need the information. You need to know what the fuck you are. May as well be honest, “but then by the time I got outside I was tingling and it was burning through my veins, within about twenty minutes just really achy and a bad headache and sort of feeling sick.”

Stephenson's nod says this is both expected and good, which is annoying, “There was transference of power then. That's excellent. It's come to you and not stayed in his familial bloodline.”

“There's a chance I could have killed him for nothing?”

“Highly unlikely. You remembered the blood.”

Go me.

“So, you shouldn't have a problem in future situations.”

“What...sort of future situations?” I can feel my chest tightening.

“I thought that had been made clear yesterday,” Stephenson's words are clipped and he adjusts his position so he's sitting further forward at what I'm assuming is his desk I don't have full view of his upper body but I can make out his hands now, “You'll have to perform more of these...tasks whenever there's someone whose powers are out of control. You'll be compensated, aside from the fact that you'll remain out of prison.”

“I'm not that concerned about prison...”

“I imagine you'd be more concerned if there are added murder charges. We have already cleaned up after you twice now, considering the matter of your father, what is that, four years ago now?” He shakes his head, “and then you went and fled the state.”

There are noises going on in the bathroom.

“You're doing a service, Garriden. I'm sure you remember the hurricane several years ago. There are still places rebuilding from that. It wouldn't have gotten nearly so out of hand if your father had been able to get to things more quickly, and there are times where there are people with equally terrible powers. They can cause holes in the earth, vaporize people, horrible sicknesses...”

“That's all well and good but...”

“When you get back we're going to set you up with an apartment,” Stephenson continues as I hear Joanna come back through the bathroom door, “you'll have a day to day job, nothing like you were occupying yourself with while you were by yourself. Something much more above board. Do you think you can tend bar? Or would you rather work for the local paper?”

I'd rather you suck my dick.

“That's not very nice,” Joanna remarks.

“I'd also rather you stay out of my head,” I point out.

“That was pretty clear,” she says, hands suspiciously out of sight, “I wasn't trying to read you. Strong emotions and all.”

“We're going to set you up with a blocker. The telepaths helped design one. We can't have random mindreaders over hearing things or probing you when you're on mission, some times groups of powered people band together after all,” he waves a hand as though this is something minor, “You still seemed annoyed.”

“Randomly murdering people doesn't sit well with me. Today was bad enough.”

“How many times do I have to remind you that it's for the greater good?” Stephenson says, tiredly, “Aside from the fact that it's your family's mandate and has been for centuries.”

“That's wonderful,” I tell him, “but I didn't ask for that, and I don't...”

Joanna is closing the distance between us rapidly in a way I don't like. I put my arm up to block her hand which she anticipates and we wind up rolling across the bed until she's underneath me. There's a needle in one hand, and I can feel her power surging angrily forward pushing at me to stop resisting, but there's only her this time and not Lucas and Lindsey as well so it's easier to shake her off. She tries to knee at my groin but she can't at the same time though she lunges and head butts at me, which works to fuck with me given my head's still not doing so well especially after we rolled around. I slip to the side and she comes at me with her hand again which I block but it's not the one with the needle. That jabs into my neck, and I can feel the liquid surging in.

“That's it,” she says, “No more fussing.” Calm down. Take it easy now. Sleep. 

 

What time is it? I feel so...fuck...I've been through...

This could be from the blood and the power, right? Though even as I think it I'm also in this don't kid yourself thing. I remember fighting with Joanna and the needle in my neck and the way this feels is too familiar, and I know I'm lucky I didn't puke, though it would have served her right if I threw up all over her.

She's sitting in the chair by the desk watching me, “How are you feeling?”

“What time is it?” my voice is hoarse.

“You slept through late lunch,” she says, “and it's almost late dinner time if you're hungry. How do you feel?”

“Why don't you just poke around in my head and see?” I mutter, slowly pulling myself up into a sitting position and trying to keep my head as still as possible.

“Because you don't like me poking around in there,” she retorts, “I'm being polite.”

“Polite like stabbing me in the neck with smack polite?”

“From what I understand you used to love the stuff,” she opens the drawer next to her and lifts out something I can't quite see in the dimly lit room.

“Used to,” I echo. We're not going to talk about all the random times it chewed and gnawed at me through the last couple of years especially when I would see other inmates who'd clearly gotten their hands on it somehow.

She turns slightly in the chair, and I hear something unrolling and things clinking, “Lucas was suggesting just ordering in for pizza or Chinese or something. We are back in civilization enough,” she turns the table lamp on, “that they might actually have decent Chinese.”

“Whatever. Am I allowed to use the bathroom or do you have to watch?”

“Go ahead,” she says, things rustling, and I have a sinking feeling as to what she might be doing.

I can smell it when I come out of the bathroom all it's sweet vinegar promises and I stop in the doorway. If I don't go any further maybe I can resist. By the strength of this doorway...

“What are you doing?” she says, turning around to look at me.

“I could ask you the same thing.”

“I really think you know though,” she says, and she holds up her hand with the syringe and I can feel my heart pounding and my skin is chilling down all over.

I sit down right there because I'm not going to go over to her. I'm not. I don't care how good it is. Was. Was. Not again. No.

It wafts towards me across the room and makes my fingers twitch. No.

I'm sitting right here. I'm not going over there.

“So,” she says, turning the chair more fully around and rolling closer to me, “What's your vote? Pizza? Chinese? Or is that really what you want?”

If my stomach sinks any further someone on the second floor is going to be wondering what the fuck is in their bathroom.

“I can see it in your eyes,” she points out, “and in the fact that your fingers are clawing into the door frame...”

“Fuck off,” I tell her, turning away. I want to get back up but I don't know that I can. I should fight her off and leave but I remember what happened last time and I might not give it my best effort. I'm already wavering. It's so close; and all of this ache will slip away, all of the memories of yesterday too and the feelings turned into softness and warmth and...

“Stop,” she says, pulling my head away from the door frame, where I've been rubbing it, “You're going to hurt yourself. How's that going to look the cleanser rubbing his face raw?”

“How does the rest look then?” I demand. Maybe if I can stab her with the thing and then she'll get it. She doesn't have anything else weapony on her and it's not like I have telekinesis that and finding snapping people in half more fun would certainly make this “cleansing” job easier.

“What's so funny?” she demands.

I try to grab the needle from her while she's confused by the joke she apparently did let herself in on but she pulls it easily away from me.

“Oh, interested are you?”

Not for why you think.

Mostly. Fuck.

“I think we should see what the others have decided on for dinner,” she says, and pulls up from the chair, and steps over me towards the other side of the bathroom and that door, “There's not an orgy going on in here is there?” she calls as it opens, “because if there is it's the world's quietest and saddest one.”

“There has to be more than three people for it to count as an orgy, Jo. This would just be a threeway.” I hear Doug's voice clearly.

“I didn't think Luke was your type,” Lindsey remarks, “Sleeping Beauty's awake then?”

“Mostly,” Joanna answers.

I pull myself up against the bathroom door. What else is in the room here? Are there empties I could use to stab her with...of course then there's the three others, but only two of them have mental powers, and then there's Doug. Doug. Doug, what can he do?

My arms are shaky so I lean against the table carefully after I've made my way over. The laptop isn't there any more unfortunately, but there is the roll, which does have supplies with it, okay, needle, needle. I pull one out.

“What are you doing?” Joanna's voice from the doorway behind me, “I have it right here if that's what you're looking for and you know it, or don't you think I made the right mix?”

“How do you even...?” Do I want the answer to that?

“You think you're the first junkie we've encountered?” she's coming closer. I grip my hand around the syringe tightly and go for her but she blocks my arm with hers and they syringe is stopped my fist several inches from her chin, “You're not operating so well right now,” she remarks, pushing me backwards. I manage to roll so that when I bounce off the bed and onto the floor nothing is too damaged and the syringe lands on the bed and doesn't get stuck in anything or break off anywhere as far as I hear, “Nothing on par with your record or witness statements.”

Whose fault is that?

I stay where I am half laying-half crouching but don't move.

“If you've stopped being an idiot,” she says, “They've decided on pizza. Easier to handle leftovers after all,” less sticks for me to try and stab you with? “Do you have any topping requests?” she kneels down but she's just out of reach. I don't see the needle anywhere either, though it feels like the smell is everywhere crowding me with it's promises of false eternal bliss. Her question seems to have amused her greatly based on the expression on her face.

“No,” I tell her.

“I suppose any non-cafeteria food is a step up for you, huh?” she says, standing back up, “Are you going to eat with us or do you want to stay in here and plot ways to try and stab me with needles?”

I sit up some and glare at her.

“Maybe you should get some more rest, Mr. Cranky Pants?”

“I'm not tired. I'm just...”

“Just what?”

Pissed with you. Itchy. Fucking itchy. Don't scratch.

“Well, then, why don't you come and be social?”

“Hm, be in a room with the three mind readers all at once? That sounds bad for my health.”

“If we were going to do that, don't you think they would--” she trails off regret on her face. They don't know she's doing this. This was a thing between her and God before they even got back...

“So, what you're saying is they don't know? How would they react to--” they wouldn't believe me regret is probably on my face now.

“Who are they going to believe on this though?” she confirms, “You could have had this shit on—in you going between prisons and taken it while I was in the can. Resourceful drug addict full of murder remorse. Once an addict always an addict isn't that how it goes?”

I lean back, trying to swallow, “You're a bitch, you know that, right?” My mouth is so fucking dry and my head...you can get past it. You can. Just climb up on the bed and sleep it off, right? I pull myself up to standing and then sit on the edge of the bed.

“I've been called worse things,” she says, “Well, you do what you're going to do. Rest. Take a shower maybe. You're sweating and nasty,” whose fault is that? “There's some other clothes in that bag,” she points, “I'm sure the pizza is here by now,” like someone hasn't telepathically told her, “We'll save you some. I promise. If you don't eat it now. I'll bring it in here and you can have it whenever you wake up and feel less cranky,” my hand has found the syringe on the bed and picks it up to throw at her but it's weight is wrong because this one is not the empty one from before.

It's full of brown, tantalizing, right there in my hand which is shaking now because there it is right there. Right. There. And everything will stop hurting and itching and...it's in my arm already, nothing is tied off but my fist is clenched and my arm is braced against my knee making it easier for the needle to slide in the vein, so simple, so familiar, so easy. Why have I not done this sooner? Make everything slip away?

And there it shines as I lie back on the bed the gentle thrum of the overhead fan guiding me as the warmth spreads from my arm deep into my chest, last time I didn't feel it so well because I was being pushed past into darkness, but this time it blends and I'm in the mellow soft that I was stupidly ignoring for so long because I apparently like to punish myself and deny myself good things—great things.

My head is light and wonderful no more ache and nothing is itching. I could just lie here for hours—with the vines tangling through the curtains.

I feel the bed shift and Joanna is lying down next to me when I turn to see who it is, “Hey...”

“Hey yourself,” she says, “I'm just gonna,” she draws the needle from my arm and moves it somewhere I don't see and then lays back down, “feeling better?”

“Yeah...” I turn over so I'm facing more towards her, shifting further onto the bed.

“Thought you might,” she smiles at me, and reaches towards my head, but then puts her hand back down, “I was gonna go eat with the others. Did you want to come with for pizza? They apparently got some wings and cheese bread too, or did you want to stay here?”

“I'm...kinda...” I wiggle my hand in her general direction.

“Yeah. I figured, but it's rude not to ask,” she sits up, “I'll leave the door open. Come through when you want. If you don't I'll bring something back with me,” she stands up and picks the bundle up off the desk and moves it to the cabinet next to the bed, “This is here when you need it,” and she disappears through the bathroom door with a short wave.  

I take my shoes off and move further up into the bed's embrace given I can spread out across the whole thing like a giant starfish instead of being cramped up in a small cot. There are waves of light sparkling across the ceiling ushered by the rippling off the fan's humming song, and I listen to it until I must drift off after a while.

 

 

Noise.

It's not Joanna like I expected though. It's Lindsey.

“Sorry,” she says, with sheepish expression, “I was trying to be quiet. Jo asked me to come check on you real quick.”

“Okay?”I sit up on my elbows, “Well, I'm good. Probably should...shower though.”

Her expression changes then and she kinda looks down, “Ah...well...” she looks back at me. She's chewing on her lip, “...that's through there.”

“Yeah. Thanks.”

I go into the room and lock the door to the room on the other side. The one I can hear Joanna, Lucas and Doug still talking in and then realize that I possibly should have let Lindsey back through but there was that expression...I come back to the other door. Joanna had said something about clothes in a bag, maybe?

Lindsey is sat on the bottom of the bed swinging her legs backwards and forwards she looks over curiously when I reappear, “What's...up?”

“Joanna said there's a bag with clothes in for me?”

“Oh, right,” she stands up and goes to the other side of the desk where the laptop was and pulls out a backpack, “I think they're in here,” she brings it over and offers it to me, rubbing my hands when I take it. Maybe I wasn't—and it's been... “Are you alright?” she asks.

I nod, “Showering, yes,” I turn, taking the bag in with me and close the door. I turn the shower on to heat up because that's a luxury I can wait for now. No risk of shanking or violation, which leads me back to Lindsey and a wonder of if she's going to wind up sneaking in here to the shower given her expressions and whether that would be so bad. It's not like it was co-ed prison.

Let's just examine the clothes which are simple enough, two pairs of underwear and socks, dark jeans, and a t-shirt which I think must be for a band but I haven't heard of it but at least they're not giving me things with Barney or something on them. I lay them back on the backpack and start stripping my own clothes off and dumping them in a pile by the toilet.

There's hotel soap, shampoo and conditioner on a shelf in the shower that I saw which will serve and probably be much better than what I used to get from commissary anyway. Oh, man decent temperature water. I slide in the shower and just stand there for a while letting it wash over me, letting it soak into every part. I'm not in a downswing yet and so it feels extra awesome not just because I can probably take as long as I want.

I'm reaching for the shampoo when I hear a noise from the right. I didn't lock the door to that room...only the one where the trio was. Too late now. I lean over to peek out of the shower.

Lindsey gives me a shy smile, hands on her shirt that's half way up her body, “So,” she says, drawing it out a little, “I was kinda...well, you can see,” she draws that out too, “hoping to join you?” She laughs a little, “I was going to say something like 'need help with those hard to reach places?' but that's kinda out now.”

“Yeah...kinda jumpy around sudden noises,” I point out.

“Should have figured,” she says, rueful, “but I got the impression you might be interested in things happening in here...just a thought.”

“There was a...thought or two...” I admit.

“Yeah,” she moves one hand from her shirt to point to her head, “didn't intend to pick up on it but it kinda involved me so it sorta...telegraphed. So,” she says again, nodding towards me and the shower.

 “Come on in,” I tell her.

She whips off her shirt and shimmies out of the pants and her underwear at the same time, tossing her bra off into the corner, and does a sort of wiggling-walk towards me and then into the shower, and takes a moment to douse herself in the warm water and wet her auburn hair before moving close to me and pressing her body against mine. Her breasts squashed against my chest and, the way she's moving, her lower body rotating slightly over my crotch. She leans up to kiss at my mouth and then slides down arms wrapped around me, a mischievous smile on her face as she does so which I understand when one of her hands moves from being around me to holding my penis and lifting it towards her mouth and then it's inside her mouth and she's sucking back and forth, her head bobbing, and I'm glad that the shower has hand rails because I might slip down the wall otherwise.

She's laughing around my shaft now, the giggle sending vibrations down my length and I know there's a moan sorta merged with an exclamation to a god I don't generally honor.

She pulls back still giggling slightly, water splashing off her shoulders and against me. She hasn't finished things, and she raises up slightly so that it's resting on one of her breasts, “Fancy giving him a better home? I imagine it's been a while,” she gets a teasing look, “or do they let you have conjugal visits?”

I shake my head, “Not the sort you're thinking of or that will keep things up.”

She moves her hand against me a few times, “Well, then, come over here,” she gently tugs on my penis and I release the hand rails and lower myself. She leans back avoiding the spray from the shower and spreads her legs to me. I crawl forward and she wraps her legs around my hips, and I use one hand to guide my penis into her and she pulls me deeper with her legs against my back. I can't brace on the wall behind her because it's too slick so I wedge one hand against the place where the wall and floor meet and use that as a point to thrust from as well as my knees against the floor. The other hand wrapped against her back. Her hands are on my shoulders and her legs around my back and we push against each other struggling with rhythm on the slippery floor until we mostly collapse into a heap of laughter things not properly accomplished.

“They make this look so easy in movies,” she mutters against my shoulder.  

“It's not like there isn't a bed in the other room,” I lean back away from her and she slides off me and I help her up to standing and she turns off the water and we wend our dripping way into the bedroom. She bounces backwards onto the bed, and I jerk myself for a few moments restoring full hardness and then re-enter from standing position. She grips around my butt with her legs again but I run my hands up her legs to pull them more towards my shoulders to help with leverage as I stay standing. We pound and grind each other growing more desperate and urgent as things go and then...release and she knots her feet around the back of my neck which pulls her to a slight angle against the bed and she wiggles from side to side pulling me deeper and trying to entice me back to hardness.

I'm honestly not sure it's going to work.

I bend myself down, and she slides her legs back around my lower body, our faces are closer together and I can nibble at her shoulder and her neck before she takes my mouth with hers and sends her tongue on a search for my own—that helps. It sends current down through my body energizing everything and she moans into my mouth as I fill her, everything tightening together. We continue kissing as I thrust against her and she pushes her groin up against me. The kiss breaks as she's moaning with each push and I spur faster and harder at her command as her fingers scrabble at the bed covers and then grip my own hands that are holding down at either side of her head.

Her grip relaxes and a kiss resumes and I push a last few times to release my own and then disconnect and lay down next to her.

“Now you really need a shower,” she jokes.

“Who's fault is that?” I ask.

She goes to smack me lightly on the arm and I reflexively catch her wrist and then let her go, realizing what happened, “Well,” she says, “I was going for playful.”

“I'll just go get that shower,” I tell her, sitting back up, “I'm sorry.”

She reaches more slowly for my hand, “It's okay. I should have...” her sentence dies then and she looks as though she's fighting her facial expressions for what's going to show through. I didn't notice it before the scent of mind though it's not directed my way. It's just around her own head.

“Should have what?” I demand.

“Expected you'd be,” she turns one hand around in the air almost as if she's not quite aware she's doing it, “your family wasn't...” she trails off again, “...and then.”

I stand up, “Yeah, whatever.”

“What?” she says from the bed as I make my way back towards the bathroom door.

“Just tell Joanna I enjoyed the pity fuck or whatever you need to say to keep her off your ass.”

“But--.”

“I'm going to shower.”

“Fine,” she says, shortly.

By the time I get out of the shower “clean and sparkling” Lindsey and her clothes are gone from the bathroom. I drag my stuff back into the bedroom and lock the door from my side while I dry off and clothe my lower body and then sit on the side of the bed facing towards the window to run the towel through my hair a few times to get most of the wet out. I have no idea even what time it is. Joanna had said something about food...hadn't she?

There's a tentative knock on the between door and then a more forceful one. I'm about to say come in and then remember I locked it so I get up and fix that. Joanna.

“I heard the shower stop so I gave you fifteen,” she says.

“Okay,” I tell her.

“You never did say what you wanted really,” she continues and I realize she's carrying a box, “So, there's a couple of different slices of pizza, some cheese sticks and a few wings.”

“Oh, right.”

She sets the box down on the desk, “One's just pepperoni sausage. The other's some special thing the guy's decided looked good so I figured, you know.”

I put the towel on the back of the chair and take a piece of cheese bread out of the box and munch on it as she watches. She seems relieved that I'm eating but then it has been since breakfast and I'm not sure what time it is now, she said I'd almost slept through late dinner, and that has to have been a while ago.  

“How are you doing?” Joanna asks after I finish the cheese stick and investigate the pizza. The other slice has large chunks of sausage—different than the grounds on the pepperoni pizza, colorful peppers and onions and...is that chicken?

“Fine,” I tell her.

“About before I meant--” she says, “Lindsey was...”

“Is she okay? The drive back is going to be awkward to say the least if--”

“I think we got things smoothed,” Joanna cuts me off, though she has a strange expression for a moment, “You're fresh from the joint that's not prime for touchy feely.”

“No...” the pizza doesn't look appetizing but the wings don't either. It's not what I'm hungry for, is it? I I'm being honest, “How early are we on the road tomorrow?...later today?”

“Does it matter? You're not going to be driving.”

She has a point, “Are you on Watch duty now then?”

She puts the food in the mini fridge apparently guessing I'm not going to eat any more.

“Just for now. Lucas will be in in a bit. Though I told them I felt things were settling down since you'd talked with Stephenson about his offer.”

“Right...” the drum is beginning to beat I can hear it from the bedside table, “but still protocol.”

“It is what we're paid for: why we make the medium bucks,” she gives a slight laugh, “I'm going to pee and check on the others. I'll be back in a few.”

I don't kid myself about why she's giving me space and get it sorted quickly. It's just like riding a bike getting everything mixed and ready. You don't forget. And there's that sweet spot. I loosen the tie and set things back on the dresser leaning back against the headboard. I should have seen if there was something that would have looked really interesting on TV. Ah, well it's not like I've watched much of that lately. I can feel myself sliding down the pillows as the weight shifts next to me on the bed and Joanna appears by my side.

“Doing good, huh?”

“Mmm,” is the only answer I can really give her.

“Mind if I watch a movie? They're playing cards in there, supposedly with no powers to make it fair to Doug. I'm sure there's going to be an argument in about a half an hour.”

“Sure. Go ahead.”

I hear the TV flick on and snippets of sound as she flips through channels and roll onto my side. I can make out some of the screen over her leg as the picture changes. She says something but I can't quite decipher it as I let myself drift. I hear her giggle, and then it's just rocking in a swing.