Compassion

They were together in her quarters, drawn to each other by pain and anger and confusion. It hurt so very, very much.

He had been in bed, tossing and turning. Pretending the demons weren't there. But they were. They mocked him; leering at him from darkened corners as he tried to sleep tied in sweat dampened sheets. When he closed his eyes to block them out he faced the crueler demons in his mind. The ones who tore him from slumber screaming.

She answered the door on the first chime, her voice a little too controlled. Her face a little too pale. The fair skin under her eyes tinted dark with fatigue. She hadn't been sleeping either he knew.

She offered him tea. He shook his head mutely. He almost made a joke. Tea keeps him awake. She knew what he was thinking and quirked a watery smile at the unspoken words.

He stood, hands draped loosely at his sides, unable to think what to do next. His mind was too full to leave room for things like movement and conscious thought. She saved him, as she had so often before, her strength his lifeline.

"Come sit with me." She urged, shifting so that her legs slid off the sofa and she was wedged into the corner, letting the armrest and the sofa back keep her upright. She seemed small somehow, dwarfed by her own furniture. It made him swallow hard.

"I need you," he said, surprised to hear himself speak.

"I know," she answered, unable to make herself admit more.

Not the words, but her gaze, the liquid sky of her eyes, made him strong. He went to her, offering his hand, then pulling her gently up and off the sofa into his embrace. They clung together until their pulses matched.

It hurt so much. To be betrayed, used, assaulted. To have one's very memories stripped away and played with. It was a violation without compare. It left them shrouded in anger and pain, strangers within their own minds.

"I trust you," he said at last, his voice ragged. "Even though I can not trust myself."

She said nothing, just reached up to him and kissed his lips. They were dry and chapped. She soothed and moistened them with her own.

His arms tightened around her, his body pressing against the length of hers, his fingers tangling in her hair.

She felt his desire pressing against her and faltered. Breaking the kiss she tried to back away.

"No." It was a frightened whisper.

"Did he hurt you like this?" he demanded, releasing her. Watching as she backed away another step. She moved carefully, cautiously, as if she might take a wrong step and fall.

"No." She shook her head. "He didn't hurt me that way."

He knew she was lying.

She backed away another step, her eyes darkened by the shadows in the dimly lit room. He hesitated a moment, then followed, covering the distance between them quickly and catching her arm. She gasped.

He drove her back until the she was pressed against the wall. Her face went deathly pale.

He brought his lips down to hers and pressed her back harder, his hands pinning her wrists. She started to gasp for breath.

He rubbed himself against her. Her knees buckled, her eyes stared, unfocused, at something beyond him.

"Fight me," he whispered. She didn't move. He pressed her harder against the wall and snarled at her. "Fight me."

She flinched but still didn't try to resist. He pinned both wrists with one hand and ran the other down her body. Placing his mouth against her ear he repeated his command. Nothing.

His hand found her breast. She cried out, shrieking in a way he had never heard before. Then she attacked.

She might have done some real damage, but the sound of him hitting the floor seemed to jolt her back to reality. She threw herself down beside him half crying her apologies.

He smiled at her, catching her in a hug and pulling her down on top of him. She lay there on the floor, tears streaming from her eyes and wetting his shirt. He petted her until she quieted.

"I'm sorry," she repeated over and over until he silenced her with a kiss. She returned it, running her hand over his ribs where he had jabbed him with her elbow. He winced. She leaned down and kissed it.

"Let me see," she insisted, unfastening his shirt and inspecting his wound. "No bruise," she informed him, then kissed the sore spot. He shuddered in pleasure. She kissed his ribs again.

He returned the kiss, catching her on the neck. This time she shuddered. She placed a kiss on his bare chest. He nibbled her ear. They traded kisses, slowly undressing each other until they lay pressed skin to skin with nothing, not even fear, between them.

They made love on the floor twice, then moved into the bedroom to continue. When sleep finally claimed them, their demons had been driven far far away.

::: end :::

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