“Uh, hi,” he said, blinking rapidly, trying to process what he was seeing as his brain struggled to return to full wakefulness. “What are you doing here?”
She frowned at him, his keen eyesight easily picking up on the movement in the dark. “Are you still half asleep, or do you really not remember?”
“Umm.” Altair was still reeling from the emotions and adrenaline surging through his system from his dream. Processing the world around him was difficult. Waking up to a punch in the face certainly cleared his brain quickly. This was much more difficult.
“We came here together,” the woman said. “After the arena. You took me in your arms, and we flew through the hallways, and then you brought me here, where we could be alone. We then were...together, again, before falling asleep. Do you not remember it all?”
Awareness was returning to him now. “I’m sorry, Christine. I didn’t mean to act like I didn’t know you. I was just...” he trailed off.
“Caught up in a nightmare?” she asked softly, sitting up, clutching the sheets to her chest. “Come, sit down.”
Her voice was quiet and gentle, full of tender caring. Yet there was an unmistakable backbone of iron throughout, a command he couldn’t ignore. Before he realized he was doing it, Altair was seated back on the edge of the bed.
“How did you know?” he asked quietly, secretly terrified of the answer.
“You were moaning and moving about in the bed,” she said quietly, fingers stroking his back, tracing lines across his skin.
“That feels nice,” he mumbled.
“Good. Now lie down,” she ordered, taking his shoulder and gently pulling him back into the bed.
“You’re much calmer now,” she said. “I was worried about you. You sounded like you were in lots of distress.”
Altair looked away. She didn’t know the half of it. “How...how did you wake me?” he asked, hoping he hadn’t taken it too far.
“I started rubbing your chest,” she said gently. “like this.”
He sagged back into the mattress at her touch, savoring the sweet light caresses. Parts of him he hadn’t known were tense unclenched and relaxed.
“That’s good,” she said, sliding just a little closer. “Just let me rub you. It’s okay now, Altair. It’s okay.”
His upper body trembled as he drew in a deep breath, but he didn’t say anything. He couldn’t say anything. She was threatening to put him back to sleep. Looking after him.
“You don’t have to talk to me,” she said, as if interpreting his thoughts. “I won’t make you or force you. But if you want to talk, then I’m right here for you, Altair. I’m ready to listen whenever you are ready to talk. When you need to talk, even if you aren’t ready for it. I’ll be here.”
“I...” he sighed, then reached up to take her hand, holding it within his own, giving it a squeeze.
How was he supposed to tell her the truth? To reveal his failures to a woman like this? She was too good for him. He didn’t deserve someone like her, that much he was certain of.
“Everyone has their demons,” she whispered. “It would be arrogant of you to think that you’re the only one who has ever suffered. Reach out, talk to me. Share with me. Lean on me, I can help you. I want to help you.” She leaned over and kissed his forehead, lingering there for several moments.
“If I tell you,” he said, caught up in the closeness of the moment. “You will think less of me. I...I don’t want that.”
“Altair,” she admonished in a whisper. “That’s not fair. You can’t tell me how I’m going to feel about something I don’t yet know.”
“I’m sorry,” he said, feeling bad.
“Besides, why would you think that about me? Why would you assume that’s what I would do?” She kissed his forehead again.
He couldn’t pick up the color of her eyes in the dark, but he could see them focused on him, could see the creases around her eyes as she looked upon him with concern.
“Because,” he said, forging ahead, ignoring his own comfort. She deserved that from him, at least. “My nightmare, it’s...it’s about my worst failure. A terrible failure.”
“Oh, Altair.” She pulled her hand from his and stroked his face with it, pulling his head to face her. “We all have failures. Everyone. I will never judge you by yours. Only by how you have come out the other side. How you have made up for it, bettered yourself and learned.”
He snorted, a self-deprecating sound. “Right. Well, I haven’t exactly done much of that since. I haven’t done any of that since,” he admitted, speaking the truth out loud for the first time.
“Why not?” Christine challenged, still holding onto his face.
Altair knew he could break away from her touch at any time, that she wasn’t trying to pin him down or hold him in place, but that she just wanted to look upon him, to be close with him. He appreciated that and her desire to help him. It meant a lot, but...but he wasn’t sure he was ready for it. For her.
“Because,” he explained. “I didn’t really have any reason to.”
Even as he spoke, he wondered if that was the truth. It had been for the longest time, but was it still? Was he still so uncaring?
“Is that all?” she asked, prying ever so gently for the first time. “It sounded like you were going to say more.”
He hesitated. The words were right there on his lips. All he had to do was utter them, putting sound to the syllables. To tell her that maybe now he did have a reason to want to better himself. To live again. Maybe.
Taking a deep breath, he started to speak.
An image appeared in front of them. A hooded face that, despite not revealing any features of the secretive owner, was entirely familiar to both of them.
“All response team members, report to
