Page 9 of Origin (Deridia #13)

She closed the door but didn’t lock it. Just manoeuvred him until his back was against the wall and she could look at him properly. No, that wasn’t right. She’d been looking at him just fine. He was the one that hadn’t been able to raise his head. Had been paralysed.

She lifted her hand, and he expected a pat on his shoulder again, but instead she struck him once on the chest. Not hard, but enough to startle him. “Breathe,” she demanded, and he let in a lungful of air in a gasp.

“You hit me,” he protested, and there was no denying the relief that went through her.

“Maybe I did,” she hedged. “And maybe I’ll do it again if you don’t keep at it.”

He took another breath. This one easier than the last.

“Yes, boss,” he quipped. Or tried. There was little force in it. But there was warmth.

She flushed, shaking her head. “I’m not your boss,” she denied, taking a half-step backward when it appeared he would not fall over after all.

He hummed. Closed his eyes. Let his head fall back against the wall. Just for a moment. Couldn’t do it long. There had been that scuffle earlier, and nothing was going to happen to Hana. Not when he was around.

He swallowed.

Pulled himself together.

Just had to let his jaw relax.

His shoulders.

His hands...

His eyes were open. The guards had driven off the prisoners. All was quiet again.

His heart slowed. Had it been racing? He hadn’t paid attention.

What else had he missed?

No, couldn’t think like that.

“I don’t mind if you are,” Ellion assured her.

He didn’t know why the thought flustered her so. Didn’t know why it was getting easier to do that. But there was some part of him that liked it. Set his lips to twitching—which was a stark contrast to what he’d experienced just a moment before.

She shook her head, but didn’t argue with him. Which, he decided, was a victory on his part. “I’m going to need to work in there,” Hana reminded him. Still careful of him, which wasn’t what he wanted. She needed to count on him. For him to be stable. Her escort.

Another breath. And then another.

Better.

“I hate the idea of you having to keep watch out here.” She gave it all a sceptical glance. That wouldn’t be so bad. Tedious, but it would allow him a good view. Only acceptable assuming there was not a secondary door he’d overlooked.

“So,” she continued. “What do we need to do for you to feel safe?”

It wasn’t about him. Didn’t she realise that? They could have been watching her for ages. Her every move, any mutter beneath her breath, could be used against her.

Had he lived that? Or seen it?

He scrubbed at his face, then stopped, remembering they were exposed. Which meant they should go back inside. Potential danger wasn’t to be feared more than a genuine risk.

She smacked him again. Still not hard, but enough to draw back his attention. “Breathe,” she repeated.

He obeyed.

Did it again for good measure.

“I need you to talk to me,” she insisted, eyes darting all over his face, trying to take in the minutia of his expression. “And I need you to do it now. I’m the boss, right?”

His lips quirked to have her admit it. She was indulging him, even in this state he knew that, but he’d take it. “You’re the boss,” he agreed.

She nodded. Didn’t smack him again.

Instead, her hands reached up and cupped his cheeks and turned his head down so he’d stop looking out at the field beside them and instead focus solely on her. “Your boss wants you to start talking. Anything that’s going through that head should come out here.” She tapped his bottom lip with her thumb, and part of him realised it was horribly inappropriate, but another did not care in the least. Her hands were warm. Her eyes were even warmer.

Concerned, to be sure, but that meant care, didn’t it? Which shouldn’t matter, but... did.

He was worrying her. Which was bad. Not taking adequate care of her in equal turn.

“I don’t like it,” he blurted out, because he was only going to make things worse if he kept spiralling in his own thoughts. “They could have been watching you. All this time. And you didn’t know, so you didn’t think to be careful. And at any point they could use it against you, and then you’ll be in those tunnels you described, and I don’t want that for you. You deserve to be out here.” He scowled, catching sight of the outer wall. “More than that. You should be wherever you want to be.”

Her hands fell away, and she ducked her head, and it was her turn to take a breath. “I’ve been here for over a year. Did you know that?” Of course he didn’t, but that didn’t seem to be the point. “And I’ve had my troubles. And yes, I spent a stint down in the tunnels, and yes, that’s part of why I agreed to do this job. Because I’m not as noble as you think I am. I like to help people, to be sure, and there’s good that could be done here, but more than that...” Another breath. A tightening of her throat. His fingers itched to reach for her as she’d done to him, but he hesitated. Was it different when a man touched a woman? He was taller. Didn’t want to impose. Frighten her.

She might not like it as he had.

“I know my limitations,” she confessed, and it was a confession.

She was ashamed of this, and it clearly cost her something to admit it now. “I couldn’t keep doing what the others were asked to do. I tried, and I wasn’t going to make it.” Her eyes were wet. When had that happened? “So I chose what would let me sit in an office that’s cool in the summers. That has walls and shade and complete little tasks that some bureaucrat has decided are important, even if no one else in this entire place agrees with them.”

“That’s not true,” Ellion cut in, voice hoarse. He patted his pocket where he’d tucked the paper, showing his assignment. It was going into the lockbox in his cupboard as soon as they were released to the dorms. He took it out now because she didn’t know what he was talking about, and he didn’t want to confuse her. “This is important,” Ellion maintained. “I’m not doing a very good job of it yet, but I will. And this is proof that I didn’t make it up. And that matters.”

Some of the wetness fell out of her eyes, and she wiped it away quickly, obviously hoping he wouldn’t see.

“Well, that’s...” She sniffed. He put the paper back in his pocket. “You’re doing fine. You’re going to get upset when a memory comes up. That’s normal.”

He smiled at her ruefully. “Know a lot about memory loss, do you? To know what’s normal and what’s not?”

She wasn’t crying anymore, and that was most important. “That’s right,” she sighed, rubbing at her eyes and then standing straighter. “A high-ranking physician back home, that was me. Specialised in it. So if you think you’re the first I’ve seen...” she clicked her tongue and shook her head.

He didn’t believe her, not when she was looking at him like she was, but that was all right. She was smiling again, and his heart wasn’t going to race out of his chest.

He needed to go back in.

He needed to get a grip.

“If there’s cool air coming through the vents, then there’s power. Somewhere.”

Hana frowned. Squinted when she took a step back and they weren’t protected from the suns any longer. He mirrored the movement, not wanting her to get far from him. She shook her head, then moved back to the door. “Just... wait here a moment.”

She cast a worried look in his direction before she slipped back into the office. He wanted to follow. Was going to. But there was no one in there, and she’d told him to wait, and he needed to prove to her he could listen. Would listen.

When it was safe enough to do so.

She wasn’t gone long. Just enough for her to grab one of the books. He’d flipped through it, not at all focusing on the contents, only in search of the tech she insisted wasn’t there.

“See this?” She’d opened it. Tapped her finger against the pages.

“I’m not arguing with you,” she clarified. “I’m not saying you’re wrong. We can look through the whole place until you’re satisfied, assuming we can put it all back together afterwards. But just...” she took a breath, her look imploring. “Look at this, please.”

He did. He took it from her gently and stared at the pages until they made any sense to him at all.

They were building plans. Something about airflow and intentional directions. Using underground coolant to bring relief to upper dwellings. Since, according to the book, putting people below ground would not be conducive to favourable outcomes.

An amendment to the side of that was a lot of jargon about vitamins and improved moods when people are exposed to the correct amount of sunlight. Then cautions about overexposure and to please see the third volume, section six, subsection two, for more particulars on symptoms to look out for.

“This building was supposed to be the model,” she explained. Then tapped the spine of the book still in his hands. “These were to be a guide. I wasn’t here when the others went up, but obviously something went wrong along the way. They’re fine,” she hastened to say, as if he would fault her for criticising buildings that were too stuffy by far and the stairs too steep. “But they’re not like this one.”

He hummed. Closed the book.

It... helped. Having another explanation. The possibility that he might be wrong. That all was as she said it was. Then there was the niggling thought that there was a bunker beneath the office, and what might they find there?

He swallowed thickly. Those were thoughts for later. When he couldn’t sleep and could mull at his leisure.

For now, he’d spent far too long distracting Hana from her work, and he couldn’t keep doing it. He wanted this to work. Most importantly, he did not want her to come to regret asking for him as a companion.

“Would you be angry if I kept looking?” he asked, watching her closely to make sure her expressions matched whatever answer she gave him. “Just to be sure?”

Hana took the book back. She didn’t appear cross, but he wasn’t sure of his abilities to read a person, let alone a woman. “Hana?” He blew out a breath. “Never mind. No more looking. They aren’t watching. Everything is fine.”

Hana turned back to him. “No,” she disagreed. “We’ll keep looking until you can believe that for yourself rather than just listening to me.”

He’d said something wrong. Done something wrong. He couldn’t account for why he knew it, not when there was no tension in her shoulders. Her mouth wasn’t a firm line, her eyes weren’t narrowed in anger. But... there was something.

“I want to listen to you,” he assured her. “There’s just this noise in my head and I don’t know how to drown it out.”

She paused in the doorway. “I believe you,” she promised him. “I do. And I’m not going to be offended that you can’t take my word for it.”

He raised a sceptical brow.

“What’s that for?” Hana asked, and only then did her eyes narrow. “I’m not offended.”

He nodded. “Whatever you say, boss.”

“I’m not!”

Teasing her made it easier to go back in. To look about the room and see her favourite place. One that felt like... somewhere else. He couldn’t know where, but he could imagine her in a home like this. Furnished with nice things. Carpets beneath her feet. Attending to little tasks that, as a whole, made up a life.

Could he say the same for himself?

His eyes drifted to the corners of the room, reassuring himself yet again there were no cameras to be seen.

No. Not really.

She followed him into the office, hands on her hips. “So,” she mused, looking around for herself. “Where do we start? And what am I looking for?”

It was an odd thing to be the one to explain something to her. It felt wholly backwards, but not unpleasant. Not when she listened intently and nodded along, so he knew she understood.

He wanted to finish the bookcase. Then, he’d like to take a peek inside that vent where the cool air came from. No, he wouldn’t go inside, so she needn’t look at him like that, but people liked to tuck things inside vents.

Thought themselves clever for it.

Hana listened to it all, and she even helped him move the desk over. The chair would be the death of him, she said, and he decided to believe her.

Even listened when she made him take his boots off before standing on the tabletop. He felt ridiculous, but something in him enjoyed being fussed over. She even stood with her hands hovering about his legs in case he tumbled—which, of course, would only lead to him falling on top of her, which would be far worse than if he’d been allowed to make it to the carpet below.

But she wanted to be involved. To help.

To take care of him.

And he certainly would not argue about that.

The vent wasn’t even one that screwed in. It was a door on a hinge. To be easier to clean, Hana insisted from below, and he nodded because he wanted her to feel better. He took his time, sliding his hand around smooth metal for any lumps, bumps, or hints that something had been cleverly hidden.

The joint where the vent and flashing met wasn’t the cleanest he’d ever seen, but there was nothing tucked inside the creases.

It was just a vent.

Just some silver tubing.

Which meant he was paranoid over nothing. Meant he’d had a life that had made him so, even if he couldn’t remember how he’d got there.

“Satisfied?” Hana asked, and there wasn’t a hint of annoyance at how little of her own work had been accomplished. It was just a question. With careful eyes as he jumped down from the desk.

“Yes.” Hoped nothing else would stir in the recesses of his mind to make that a lie.

“Are you really?” she pressed, leaning in with a gleam in her eye that suggested she was teasing him.

He huffed, but there was very little true annoyance in it. She was remarkably patient with him, even when she thought him ridiculous. And he could live with that, so long as he was allowed to do what was necessary to keep them both safe. “Never been more so,” he quipped, waiting for just how little that encompassed to settle over her.

Her lips thinned. Her eyes narrowed. But they crinkled at the edges, and the corners of her mouth pulled up despite her best efforts not to. “Excellent,” she declared, then seemed to realise how close she was standing beside him and flushed, taking a full step backward. Which meant she bumped into the bookcase, and she turned, hand outstretched to catch anything that might fall. But all was sturdy, and she shook her head and muttered under her breath about proper work and overbearing escorts, but buried it all quickly enough when she turned back to him.

“Help me with this?” she asked, tapping the desk. “Unless you need to be extra sure about the vent.”

He hummed, peering upward and making a great show of appearing thoughtful. Silenced the very real part of him that insisted he do just that. Maybe even crawl halfway inside to get a deeper look around.

That was nonsense. There was rational caution, and then there was... that.

He would indulge one, but not the other.

They moved it back. She circled it twice to make sure it lined up just right with the indentations in the carpet. “May I put my boots on now?” Ellion asked, knowing it wasn’t necessary to do so. Liked the way she huffed at him and rolled her eyes.

“I’m not really your boss,” she reminded him.

He shrugged. “That’s not what you said outside.” He knelt to do up the laces, but he caught the way her mouth dropped open.

“That was different,” she complained. “You were in a state, and that was the only way I could think to help.”

Another shrug. “Doesn’t change that you said it.”

“It changes what I meant!”

He smirked, but his head was ducked so he hoped she couldn’t see it. “Maybe.”

“Not maybe,” she mumbled under her breath, sitting down in the chair with a squeak of gears and a mechanism that needed oiling. Was that a part of their tasks? He couldn’t imagine someone important enough to oversee an experimental prison would get on the floor with a pot of grease to oil up their seat. Even if they wanted it to keep twirling as smoothly as it should. He could feel her staring at him, and he took extra care with his laces. A couple of extra knots. He should be thorough, after all. “You’re being difficult on purpose,” she accused.

“Me?” he defended with all the indignation he could muster. “That’s a harsh accusation, Hana.”

He stood, because the laces had grown too short to do anything else with, and her hands were back on her hips and he wondered if she was aware they’d crept back there. “I don’t mean to be harsh,” she countered, already reeling back her annoyance until it was something closer to her usual demeanour. He was sorry for it. She should be rankled if she wanted to. Should accuse and not think she had to gentle her tone at the slightest push back.

“But I’m not one of them,” she managed to get out, eyes closed. Hands leaving her hips to ball into fists at her sides.

“One of who?” Ellion asked, genuinely confused by her statement.

She opened her eyes, suddenly looking very tired. “I’m not one of the guards,” she clarified. “I will not order you about. Make you do things you don’t want to do.”

It was his turn to be stunned into silence. To stand there and stare until she grew uncomfortable in the quiet and began to fidget. To soften what she’d said with little platitudes. That it was all right if he thought that of her. That he’d be following her about so that sacrificed some of his autonomy, and she was sorry about that, so the confusion was understandable.

“Hana,” he cut in at last.

She stopped. Cast a miserable expression in his direction before she ducked her head.

“I don’t think you’re like a guard.”

A smile, but it was a dismissive, placating sort of offering.

It cut him deeply.

“I don’t.” He was growing agitated, because he’d miscalculated somehow. And badly. “Hana, that isn’t why I call you that.”

She blinked up at him. “It isn’t?”

“Of course not.” His shoulders lost some of their tension because they were talking, and he could fix this, but it meant being careful with his words. Being gentle with her as she was with him. “I didn’t choose them. Or if I did, that was lost along with everything else.”

“You didn’t choose me, either,” she reminded him. “I drafted you.”

“Only because I hadn’t intended to leave you be as you suggested.” He shook his head, rubbing at the back of his neck. “If that’s not making a choice, I don’t know what is.”

They let that settle, and the silence wasn’t quite as strained as it had been. But he kept on, because he needed to make himself clear. She needed that from him, and she deserved everything he might give her. “I don’t know what I’m doing,” he conceded. Not so much a confession, as it was plain for the both of them. But it was an admission all the same, and his chest felt a little lighter for having voiced it. “But I have you. And that’s...” words failed him. He was grateful. Very much so. But there was more than that.

She was a tether. An anchor. In the roiling void of his own thoughts.

She was...

“What if you were my friend first, and my boss second?” It was sheepishly offered, because she could very well banish the word from his mouth and any association with her at all.

“And I can assure you, that’s an offer that will not extend to anyone else here. Guard or otherwise.”

Her cheeks flushed. She wouldn’t look at him. But there was something in her posture that suggested she was pleased. That she was embarrassed, yes, but there was more, and he hadn’t said all the wrong things to her.

He watched her swallow. Watched her smooth her hands against her thighs. Try to pull herself together so she could answer him properly. “Friends,” she repeated. “You want us to be friends?”

Another quirk of his brow. And this time she didn’t ask about it. “Aren’t we already?”

“I don’t think I’ve ever been asked so formally before,” she laughed, a breathless push of air and sound that was only partly humour. “Like we’re bargaining.”

Ellion shrugged, pushing his hands into his pockets and wondering what he might do if she rejected his offer. He’d follow her about. Protect her above all else. But he wouldn’t deny he would be hurt if she did not want to call them friends.

He must have had some before. Enough to know the word. To know that to enjoy her company as he did, to want her around, that meant an affinity that deserved a title. Something far more than a fellow prisoner.

“Maybe this is quite normal for me,” he answered, trying to make light of it. Knowing it very well might be true. “Make things plain from the start.”

She looked down again, but this time, she was smiling. “I’ll be your friend, Ellion,” Hana decided at last. “Or continue to be. We’ll negotiate about the boss part.”

He hummed. Watched her grow more flustered. Wondered about that, but set it aside when she squared her shoulders and seemed to push aside whatever emotion she had quite enough of for the moment.

“Now, are we working? Or just talking the rest of the day?”

He was in the office. He wasn’t panicking. They had both declared their friendship.

He was doing better by far.

“I’m already working,” he reminded her, just so she would roll her eyes and huff as she sat down in her chair. “You seem to be the one slacking.” Which earned him a glare, and that wasn’t supposed to please him, he was certain, but there was a warmth in his chest that hadn’t been there a moment before.

Fine work, he decided. Some of the best he ever had.