Fighting (27 page)

"That's
completely ridiculous," I said.  Well, so much for shielding his delicate
feelings.  Let's go ahead and alienate him.  Why not?  "How can you be one
of the smartest people I know, and the next second, be so thick headed that you
actually believe these completely ridiculous notions?  Why
the fuck
would
you not be worth it?" I asked sharply.

"I'm
not saying I'm worth
less
.  I'm saying my life in exchange for yours, you
risking everything for me, is
not worth it
."

"But
it's okay if you saved me?" I asked sarcastically.

"Yes!"

"That
doesn't make any sense!" I semi-yelled.  "How does that work?  Why
would you not be worth it to me?"

"Because
it's just me.  I'm just some guy that you spend time with because we're trapped
in a box and I'm the closest person your age you can relate to," he said.

I
could literally feel my blood pressure rising and I felt a little murderous. 
Unfortunately, if I killed him, who would I argue with?  Just some guy?

"You,"
I enunciated slowly, "are just some guy?"

I
like to think I sounded a bit dangerous, but he just shrugged in response. 
Then again, it would be pretty difficult to out-dangerous him.

"Have
I ever given you the impression that you're dispensable?  Do you think me so
callous to care, just not enough to actually have a stake in your
survival?"  He looked a little guilty at that and I soldiered on.  "I
know I don't show it often, but I do have a heart.  It beats and
everything," I said sarcastically.

"It's
not about you, it's about me," he said.  I squinted my eyes at him in accusation. 
"Look, I'm not trying to get all sensitive on you and shit, but you still
haven't told me why you came back for me."

My
patience, already worn thin, finally snapped.

"Because
I need you!" I admitted, visibly shocking both of us.  I swallowed thickly
through the uncomfortable lump forming in my throat and continued more quietly,
"With me.  I need you with me.  We're. . . You and I . . . "  I
paused, shaking my head, unsure of how to express how I felt.  "We make
sense together.  I fight better with you, knowing you have my back.  I think
more clearly with you around.  I feel better, just knowing you're near me. 
You're the first person I look for when I enter a room or laugh at something
funny.  I --"  I clenched my teeth to ignore the gushy feelings I was
experiencing.  Ick.  I sighed and murmured, "You're the best friend I've
ever had." 

The
heat of the argument was dwindling down to an ember and I lowered my voice
accordingly.  I reached out to lay a hand flat against his chest and motioned
my free hand between our bodies.  "I've never had a bond like this.  In my
life, no one has ever gotten inside my head like you do, infuriated me like you
do, or . . .  anything like you do.  We're not friends by circumstance," I
insisted.  "We just happened to have met at the compound. We're friends
because of fate or something, I don't know.   But I do know that if we ever
separated, I'd never find anyone like you ever again. 
That's
why I went
back for you." 

His
eyes dropped to my legs and I dipped my face to catch his eyes, wanting to make
sure he heard me because I wasn't fired up for a repeat of this conversation.

"I
know you think your family doesn't need you, but I do.  Okay?  And that means
I'm going to risk my life for yours.  So deal with it," I ended gruffly,
my anger reappearing in favor of getting emotional.  "All right?" I
asked curtly.

His
eyes searched mine for sincerity and I gave it to him.  "Yeah," he
said quietly.

He
placed a hand around the side of my neck, his thumb scoring a gentle path along
my jaw and that worked to dissolve my anger, so I moved my hand from his chest
to wrap around his wrist.  His eyes flashed down my face and my pulse quickened
as they landed on my lips and he leaned forward an inch. 

He's going to kiss me!

But
he didn't.  He was actually looking at my nose.  His free hand touched it
lightly to dab at the left over blood and then fell back to the counter by my
hip.  He didn't move back as he looked back at me and held my stare.  I wanted
to stay connected like that for a long time, but alas, moments of silence were
far and few between with a house full of kids.  We flew apart and turned toward
the bathroom door as it opened and August took a step inside.

"Oh! 
Sorry, I didn't know you were in here," she said sheepishly, turning to
scurry away.

"August! 
It's okay, we're done," I said.  Thank God.

We
released our hold on each other and Ethan stepped back so I could hop down onto
my feet.  He tidied the first-aid kit and replaced it in the cabinet he found
it in.  I dropped the bloody wash cloths in the trash and felt Ethan's hand
grasp mine again.  We traded places with August and she smiled apologetically
at me.  I shook my head at her dismissively as she shut the door, enveloping us
in the dim lighting of the hallway.

He
turned and led us down the hallway.  I stared at his broad shoulders as he
pulled me along behind him and I had to resist resting my forehead against his
gliding shoulder blade.  My hand tingled and my poor, abused heart went into
overdrive.  It was really getting a work out this evening.  I was hoping to
sleep for maybe twenty or so hours to give it a solid break. 

Ethan
led us to the doorway at the very end of the wall and deposited me in the
bedroom, hovering in the doorway. 

"Take
this."  He handed me some pills.  "It's for your head and various
muscle pain.  It'll probably make you sleepy.  I'll be right back," he
said.

Say
what?  I wanted to take the medicine, close the door and ignore whatever I was
feeling like I usually did, but he was being extra attentive and I'd be a jerk
to shut the door on that.  I pulled the covers back on the bed and sat on the
edge.  Minutes slipped by.  Where did he go?  And why exactly was I waiting on
him? 

Fully
intending to wait for him, I somehow found myself horizontal with my eyes
closed, and unable to do anything about it.  I was already spent, but that last
little altercation in the bathroom left me utterly drained, not to mention he
just drugged me up.  I snuggled into the pillow and rolled onto my good side,
leaving my bruised ribs exposed.  Having dozed off, I was suddenly startled
awake to strong hands on my hips.  I struggled to clear my sleep dazed mind, so
I mildly freaked out until I heard Ethan say, "It's just me."  I
relaxed and let him move me like a rag doll.

He
rolled me onto my back and I felt him slide my shirt up my body.  I snapped my
eyes open in alarm, only to watch him wrap a bag of ice in a small hand towel
and drape it over my ribs.  I inhaled sharply and he looked apologetic.  I focused
on my breathing and closed my eyes as he took my hands that were gripping his
biceps and placed them by my sides, also wrapping them with ice. 

"What
time is it?" I asked drowsily.

"Almost
three a.m."

I
let that marinate a second before I mumbled, "Thank you."

"For
what?"

"Taking
care of me," I said sluggishly.  "No one's ever done that for me
before, either."

He
paused his movement and said, "I feel the same way about you, you know. 
Everything you said."

My
head was fuzzy and I felt like I was moving in slow motion as I fluttered my
eyelids open to respond but he released me and pulled the covers over my body.

And
I was lucid for just long enough to imagine feeling him kiss the patch of skin
in front of my damaged left ear and whisper directly into it, "Go to
sleep, baby."

I
woke up to a name sounding on my lips.  "Ethan," I whispered
urgently.

I
opened my eyes to an unfamiliar, sunlit room.  I blinked a few times, warily
studying my surroundings before it all came rushing back to me.  Ethan was
alive.  I relaxed, gave a long, relieved sigh and thought about going back to
sleep.  I must have been reliving last night and didn't make it to the end of
the dream before I woke up.  I noticed a slight weight resting on my ribs, and
at first I thought it was an arm but no, it was an ice pack.  Someone must have
made a fresh batch for me and replaced it recently, because it hadn't melted
yet. 

I
rolled onto my back and stretched my limbs.  I felt significantly better than
last night.  My headache had all but disappeared and the ringing in my ear was
gone.  My ribs weren't terribly bruised but they still hurt when I moved
certain ways.  Other than that, I felt excellent and well rested.  I pushed up
to sit on the edge of the bed.  My bare feet touched the wooden floor and it
hit me how hungry I was.  I was famished, actually.

Taking
my time, I clasped a hand around the bag of ice and shuffled to the bathroom we
used last night.  I lifted my shirt up and twisted to get a better look at my
ribs.  Definite discoloring, but nothing too bad.  A week or two to heal
completely, at the most.  I put the ice pack back on them absently and realized
I left my tooth brush in the bedroom.  I made my way back slowly, for no other
reason than because I didn't need to rush, and walked back to the bathroom to
brush my teeth.

I
stared at my reflection for a beat before I decided food was my next priority. 
I heard voices as I walked down the stairs.  When I hit the main room, I went
straight for the fridge.  I saw Ollie sitting at the counter eating soup and
everyone else was in the living room on the couches.  Ollie saw me first and
froze with his spoon mid-air, soup dripping into his bowl. 

I
stopped walking and stared at him in question.  "What?" I asked.

He
lowered his spoon and I saw something serious working behind his eyes but I
couldn't identify it.  I shuffled over to the fridge and opened it to find it
completely empty.  I shut the fridge and spun around back to Ollie to ask him
for food, but he was already silently pointing to a cabinet door with his
spoon.  I opened it and found an assortment of soups and canned foods.  I
grabbed the first can of ravioli I found and nuked it in the microwave.  Ollie
said nothing as he ate another spoonful of soup and watched me.  I kept
flicking my eyes over to him suspiciously.

"What?"
I repeated defensively.

"Last
night, you . . . "  He shook his head, apparently at a loss for words.

Spencer
walked over from the living room and swooped in to steal my bowl of ravioli
from the microwave.

"Welcome
back to the land of the living," he said.

I
checked my wrist watch and my eyes flashed in surprise.  I had slept eleven
hours!  It was two o'clock in the freaking afternoon. 

"Whoa,"
I mumbled.  "Hey, give me that back," I said.

I
wasn't kidding around.  I was way too hungry to argue.

He
tried to take my spoon and when I didn't give it up, he shrugged and moved to
stick his fingers in the bowl.  I pinched the lobe of his ear harshly and his
shoulders raised up to his ears and his face scrunched up in pain. 

I
yanked his ear to my lips and hissed, "Surrender."

He
offered up the bowl of ravioli like a baby lion to a kingdom full of
witnesses.  I snatched it back and shoved his face away.  He stumbled on his
feet and looked at me like he was a helpless victim.  I compressed my lips in
dismay as I scooped up a piece of ravioli on my spoon and held it out to him. 
He smiled like he just won the lottery and ate it but I turned my back to him
and curled my body around my bowl protectively as soon as he released the
spoon.  He laughed all the way back to the couch.

I
moved my gaze to the left and found Ethan watching me.  I felt a kick to my
system as everything from the previous night and our conversation in the
bathroom rushed back to me.  I remembered his fingers feathering over my
injuries and his soft voice telling me to go to sleep.  His stare was as
piercing as ever, and instead of curling my body around his on the couch like I
wanted to, I turned my back on him and that possibility to refocus on Ollie.

He
was also watching me, though his eyes were grave, his gaze heavy with what I
prayed wasn't a burden of debt.  I narrowed mine, hoping he wasn't going to get
gushy on me.  Suddenly his eyes cleared and he worked through whatever was
troubling him.

"I'm
just trying to design a costume for you," he said.  I put my palm on the
counter and leaned toward him in total confusion.  "For your super hero
debut," he said breezily.  

I
flicked him off, totally relieved that his innocence was still intact.  I took
a drink and my bowl of ravioli to the living room.  There were three couches
surrounding the TV, with two facing each other and the third pointed straight
toward the TV.  Spencer and Ethan were on one couch and Brooks and August were
on the opposite.  I collapsed on the cushion next to August and focused on the
news anchor on the TV.

".
. . and the young girls were returned yesterday morning after their parents
agreed to pay the ransom.  Late last night in the outskirts of Boone, a tip was
called in about a cabin burning to the ground.  By the time officials arrived,
the fire was threatening to ignite the surrounding forest, but firefighters
battled into the early dawn to extinguish the blaze.  It is unclear how the
fire started or who owns the property, but officials are claiming arson."

It
cut to a clip of the burning house and I sat up straight in alarm.

"They
burned our compound down?" I gasped.

"Yeah,"
Ethan said.  He leaned forward and rested his elbows on his knees. 
"Torched the place sometime in the early morning, I'm assuming after they
freed all the men we took down.  Seems like we made them mad," he said
sardonically.

I
finally found a home again and some fucking idiots barged in and burned the
place down?  Not to mention losing all of my possessions that I didn't bring
with me.

"Shit
just got serious," I said.

Ollie
walked over and sat next to Spencer as Brooks said, "Tell me about it.  I
built that place from the ground up."

"So
who is this guy?" Spencer asked.

"Fletcher,"
I said.

"The
only Fletcher I even know of is a thief," Brooks said.  "He's a
career criminal, and he's only been caught once.  After his two year stint in
prison, where he conveniently gathered a whole new wealth of knowledge, he's
never been caught again."

"What
does he want with us?" Ethan asked.

"I
don't know," Brooks said.

"But
you have an idea," I pressed.

He
looked at me with calculating eyes.  "When you were at the ball last week,
did you notice anything out of the ordinary?  Maybe someone who stood out of
the crowd?"

I
looked at Ethan and said, "Well, there was that one guy who was
shamelessly drunk."  I looked back to Brooks and said, "But Ethan
saved me from him.  Everyone else was normal."

"No
one else stuck out?"

I
furrowed my brow in concentration.  "Actually," I said slowly. 
"There was a guy I talked to very briefly.  He was charming enough I
guess, but he left when Ethan came back."

"Ethan
can be intimidating," Ollie said.

"Mmhmm,"
August agreed.  Ethan looked at her in question.  "You have a
presence," was all she said.

"The
guy who wanted you to upgrade?" Brooks asked.

I
nodded and Ethan asked, "What about him?"

"I
assumed it was a coincidence, but we ran into him in the back hallway.  I mean
literally, we collided with each other.  Like he was in a hurry to get
somewhere.  I just thought he had to use the bathroom really bad, but," I
shook my head.  "He stopped when he realized it was us he had collided
with and gave me a very peculiar look."  I looked at Brooks in mild alarm
and said, "Like he knew why I was really back there and it wasn't to sleep
with Ethan."

"Whoa,
what
?" August asked, astonished.

"What
was his name?" Brooks asked.

"Nigel. 
He only gave his first name."

"Nigel
Fletcher is the thief I was talking about."  He rubbed his forehead in
distress and I felt the first prickle of foreboding. 

"What
does that mean to you, Brooks?" Ethan asked.

"Fletcher
and I were suitemates for a semester of college."

My
eyes bugged out.  "What?"

"It
was a long time ago.  We started out friendly with each other, but the more we
disagreed on things, the more tense it got.  We grew into rivals, competing
over grades, friends, girls, petty shit like that.  He went on to become an antiquities
expert at a museum.  After a while of hanging around those artifacts, he got
greedy and tried his hand at stealing.  Turns out, he wasn't bad at it.  He
eventually got caught and went to prison and before you ask, I didn't put him
there.  I just heard about it.  Anyway, he steals priceless works of art for
himself and for profit.  He gets off on the thrill."

"Don't
we all?" I muttered to myself.  Ethan, with his super hearing, heard me
and we shared a glance in grim agreement.

"Fletcher
was there at that party for the same statue we were there for.  We got to it
first," Ethan guessed.

"Yes,
I would think so," Brooks said.  "He would definitely be able to tell
a fake from the real thing."

"I
want to look this guy up," Ollie said.  Usually so relaxed, his leg
bounced anxiously and his hands moved around restlessly.  "No internet
connection out here."

"So
what do you think he wants with us?" August asked.

"This
isn't just revenge, is it?" Ethan asked.  "Some old rivalry
bullshit?"

"No,
he could have done that a long time ago.  If Alex is right, then he wanted that
sculpture but he wouldn't go to these lengths just to get it back.  He would
never outright ask for it.  He'd simply steal it back and get off on
outsmarting us.  This was a step too far for that," Brooks said.

"This
was ten steps too far for that," Ollie said.

"If
I find out we went through all of that for a sculpture, I think I might lose my
mind," I said lightly.

"Think
you already did," Spencer said.

Ethan
smacked him on the back of his head.

"What
was that for?" Spencer cried out indignantly.

"She
did that for you," Ethan said.

"I
know, man.  I never said anything was wrong with it.  I, personally, think it
was totally kickass."  He looked at me facetiously and placed a palm over
his heart.  "My own personal hero."

"Heroine,"
August corrected him.

"Just
say no to drugs, August," Spencer said sagely.

Ethan
hit the back of his head again and Spencer looked at him in outrage.

"I
just felt like it that time," Ethan explained.

I
chuckled and said, "The things I do for the people I love."

Everyone
stopped and stared at me.  My smile dropped from my mouth and now it was my
turn to be indignant, and uncomfortable, to boot.  I stared awkwardly at the
empty couch to avoid their dumbfounded expressions.

"You're
not going to shoot the couch, are you?" Spencer asked.

I
jumped from awkward to indignant and looked pointedly at Ethan.  He smirked and
didn't look away from me as he hit the back of Spencer's head.

Spencer
jumped to his feet and held his hands up, ready to karate chop Ethan in half. 
"Swear to God, you do that one more time," Spencer threatened.

Ethan
stood up to his full height, which was five inches taller than Spencer. 
"You'll what?" he taunted playfully.  "You going to beat me
up?"

Spencer's
hands balled into fists and he threw a punch at Ethan, which he dodged almost
too easily.  Spencer advanced and Ethan walked backward steadily, blocking or
dodging all of the strikes seemingly effortlessly.  The more energy Spencer
used to try and land a hit, the more disgruntled he became every time he
missed.  Which was every single time. 

The
rest of us stopped talking to watch as they moved all over the room, almost
like they were dancing.  This was
manly
dancing, though, because there
was the promise of bloodshed.  There were no violins playing a jaunty tune and
neither of them were trying to pick the other one up for some sweet lovin', but
they were dancing all the same.

They
circled the room and I finally said something.  "I'd just like to point
out that he's not fighting back and you're still losing," I called out to
Spencer.