Eyes

It's been three days and Laila is losing hope.

She moves quickly along the corridor, defiantly meeting the eyes of those who stare at her. If they aren't condemning her for slapping the ship's captain, they're judging her for her association with Ray and Florian. She's worn so thin she's not sure what she'll do if anyone confronts her, so she meets their eyes and keeps moving.

She's not oblivious to the rumors and speculation. Not that long ago she would have shared some of those scornful opinions about "the Rochefort boy".

Morocco changed that. Morocco changed everything.

She can still picture Ray, slumped against the wall, eyes vacant. She's never seen him defeated before. Not Ray, the man who was orphaned at such a young age – younger than Laila herself – and still managed to become one of the wealthiest aristocrats in France. Not Ray, who she’s seen stand tall and unbowed under the contemptuous gaze of Parisian society.

Morocco changed him too.

She had watched as he allowed Michel to display him like an exotic animal. She had held her tongue as the other guests stared and gossiped about him. But when Michel had dared to mock him, and the rest of the guests just watched as Ray carried the comatose Florian from the room – that was all that Laila could stand. She’d be damned if she'd take back any of the angry words she said to Michel then, or if she'd apologize for slapping him.

She’d tried to warn Ray – to let him know what she’d done and to make him understand that he didn’t have to shield her from the repercussions. But she has known Ray for years, and she knows that he’ll protect her, even at risk to himself. Just like he’s protecting Florian.

It embarrasses her now, to remember her jealousy and her harsh words to Florian. She had been so afraid of the light she saw in Ray’s eyes when he looked at Florian that she had forgotten herself. She had forgotten that Ray’s happiness truly was her own, even if he found that happiness with someone else.

She has known all along that Ray would find someone else, someone of his social class. She told herself that she was prepared for it – that she would be happy and supportive of her dearest friend. But as soon as she saw Florian she knew she’d been lying. Ray adored beautiful things, and Florian was a living work of art.

Strangely, it was the first time Ray took Florian to the cellar and had him whipped that proved her correct. She had watched as Ray carried the unconscious Florian up two flights of stairs to the blond’s room. The look on Ray’s face almost broke her heart. She knew then that he’d never hold her; that he'd never wear that expression for her.

She’d tried to win Ray back – although she never really had him to begin with. Like a fool she threw herself at him. It made it all the worse that he was so gentle and forgiving.

If she had had any pride, any sense of self-worth, she would have left Ray then. He would have made sure she had enough money, somewhere to stay and a good job.

She wondered if someday his kindness would break her heart for real.

She has the answer to that now – the memory of Ray’s vacant stare – and she understands a little better her role in his life. His and Florian's, she supposes. Ray needs her there, like a sister, to support him, to laugh with him and to keep him from ever wearing that vacant expression again.

At the moment, that means helping to restore Florian. Perhaps it will always involve Florian in some way. She’s not going to question it. Ray needs her to be practical and clever, and she can easily do both.

Right now she’s going to arrange the lunch trays and fetch more towels. Then she’s going to make sure Ray eats and rests. She’ll deal with the rest of the details later.
 

+++++
 

The cabin is quiet when she returns. Florian is on the bed, still unresponsive, staring into the distance while Ray sits beside him in the same position as when she left. Ray's eyes are closed and he’s stroking the palm of Florian’s hand lightly, barely touching him.

Laila sets the towels down and fills a basin with lukewarm water. Briskly she gathers soap, a wash cloth and fresh set of clothes - courtesy of Michel - for Florian. She murmurs nonsense as she lowers the blankets to his waist and unbuttons his shirt. The fabric is damp with sweat and she's grateful for Ray's assistance when he pulls Florian into a sitting position and helps her remove the garment.

Using a sing-song tone, she tells him about the things she's seen on the ship while she washes him. Ray takes up the towel and dries him with soft movements, just as he has each time she's washed and changed Florian since they arrived onboard this ship.

Ray covers his hands with the soft towel, worried about letting his rough skin touch Florian's tender skin - afraid that he'll fracture him even more. Laila averts her eyes and pretends she doesn't see.

They're just lying Florian down again when someone knocks on the door and Laila leaves the washing items to answer it. She's expecting the meal she ordered and finds an empty-handed porter instead.

"Apologies for disturbing you, Miss. The Captain requests a meeting with Count Courland immediately. I've come to escort him."

Laila's running through her polite society approved versions of "no way in hell" for a response when Ray gently moves her aside and motions for the man to lead on. Laila knows he's cooperating to keep Michel away from Florian, but she still doesn't like it.

She likes it even less a short time later when Ray still isn't back and Florian starts to scream. He's raging through the room, upsetting a table and chair and scattering bric-a-brac, his eyes seeing something visible only to him.

She panics for a moment, then dashes out into the corridor in search of Ray. She half-drags him as she explains herself then steps back and lets him go.

They're nearly too late.

Florian's running - desperate or terrified - she's not sure it makes a difference which. Ray gives chase but his desperation is different and he nearly doesn't catch him in time.

Florian's half over the rail when Ray lunges and manages to catch him. They both crash to the deck.

Florian cries out in despair and covers his face, his fear so raw that it makes Laila shudder. It's the proof she doesn't want and an intimate secret she's now forced to share.

Ray pulls Florian up, clearly aware of all the eyes watching them. He doesn't meet any of them, but Laila does and she continues to do so as Ray half carries a shattered Florian back to their cabin.

Laila casts a silent curse out over all of those greedy, hostile eyes as she descends into the ship. May each and every one of them know what it feels like to see themselves reflected back in a loved one's vacant eyes.

::end::

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