"Where did you get your suit?" Tamar asked as she rolled onto the single lumpy mattress in their room.
"I didn't get it at all. It was a gift from someone I didn't know at the time." He settled his shoulder against the far wall. "I had no choice in the matter. I woke up one morning, and there it was. That was about seven months ago. So I've been making the best of it ever since."
"Who gave it to you?" She asked.
"A computer."
"A computer, right?" Tamar rolled her eyes.
"You asked."
"A computer gave you that suit." She pointed at him. Why did he always answer her in as few words as possible?
"There's a lot about me and where I come from that you don't know." He walked over and sat on the edge of the bed. "I live on a ship that, until a very short time ago, was parked in stationary orbit behind Mars. We arrived back in the Sol system six days before I was sent to gather intelligence on the Rougarians. That's when I found you."
"So why would this ship of yours leave you down here? Don't they care that you're here all by yourself?"
"Oh, it's not my ship, and whether they care if I'm down here on my own, they prefer it that way and so do I. Other people just get in my way most of the time." Tamar looked away from him.
"Yeah, with that thing on, no one can keep up with you."
"Oh, this was way before I had this thing stuck to me. You see, I was raised in the woods. From the time I could walk, I was out with my dad hunting. The first squirrel I shot was with a rifle longer than I was tall."
"By the time I was nine, I could stalk through the forest and not disturb a thing. Before I was allowed to hunt deer, I had to go out into the woods with nothing but the clothes on my back and bring back a tuft of hair I had pulled from a deer's body. Only then would I be allowed to kill one."
Malachi stopped talking, his mind taking him back to the scene. He had positioned himself beside one of the main travel routes the deer took from their bedding area to the open clover fields in which they fed. Hours later, his legs numb from inactivity, he saw it. A young male, a button buck, so called because its antlers hadn't grown higher than the hair between its ears. It was moving along the path, browsing on whatever it could find.
Malachi remembered the beating of his heart. His hiding place had been chosen with great care. He'd made sure it was downwind of the trail so his scent wouldn't be carried on the breeze to them. He was amazed the buck couldn't hear his heart hammering on the inside of his chest. A single step separated them when the deer lifted its head and sniffed the air. The time of decision had arrived, so with a wild lunge Malachi had buried his fist in bucks flank and yanked with everything he had.
The next few moments passed in a blur, and when he came to, he was on the ground, his shoulder throbbing.
With a scream and a thud, Malachi came back to the present to see Tamar on the floor. She was holding her shoulder, her right fist clutched tightly. Her eyes were darting everywhere throughout the room, a gleaming shine in them.
"Where is it? I almost had it!" She howled, spittle flying from her lips.
"Had what?" Malachi asked. "There's nothing here."
"That deer, it was so close I could smell it."
"What are you talking about?" Malachi asked, shaking his head in frustration.
"There was a deer. It was right in front of me. It was so close I could smell it. Where is it?" She jumped to her feet, head swiveling from side to side.
"There is no deer in here. I saw it in my... head." Tamar's eyes snapped open, fear and horror writ large in her eyes.
"But I saw it, I smelled it. I was right there in the woods." She rubbed her shoulder, then rolled it as if it hurt.
"I was kicked in the shoulder by that button buck. It took a chunk of skin and broke my collar bone in two places. If I could get this suit to come off, I could show you the scar."
"It's, right... here?" It wasn't a question, it was a statement.
Tamar could feel the deer's hoof as if it was her shoulder that was hit. The shock of seeing the skin cut and bleeding. The weeks of wearing a shoulder cast to keep it in place while it healed. The exultant pride as he handed his father the hand full of hair when he finally made it back to the house.
"What is this?" She moaned, clutching her head. "What did you do to me?" Eyes yellow and raw, she stared at Malachi, demanding an answer.
"I have no idea. I saved your life by sealing your artery with a small portion of my suit. Other than that, I didn't do anything."
"Then how can I be seeing your memories? That's what these things are. They're your memories."
"I don't know. The only thing that could have any idea is Central, and I can't communicate with that thing from here. The Nest has left the system, so I have no way of getting a signal sent that far."
A thought struck Tamar like a thunderbolt. "If I can see your memories, does that mean you can see mine?"
"I have no idea. But if it happens, it won't be on purpose. I would never intrude on you like that, ever."
He could see some of the built up tension bleed out of her and relaxed.
"Are you ready for our Bible study?" He asked, patting the bed next to him.
Tamar rolled her eyes and came to sit next to him.
"So, where are we reading from tonight, oh great theologian you?"
"Ha, that'll be the day." Now it was Malachi's turn to roll his eyes. "We are studying Proverbs, remember? And since it's the twenty-fifth of this month, we are on the twenty-fifth chapter. Would you like to read it?"
Tamar blanched. There was no way she was going to read from his Bible. He loved that book. If she were to rip or tear it with her claws, no.
"No, you read it. I'll just listen."
"I do love this book. It was my Grandfathers. But if you're afraid I'm going to be mad if you tear it. I love the sound of your voice more than I fear damage to this book." Her heart melted.
So, with great care, Malachi's suit produced the small book from the surface of his thigh and he handed it to Tamar. What could she do but read it for him? Her heart lept at his words.
He likes the sound of my voice. Why? I sound like a cat with a hairball stuck in its throat most of the time. Why would he want to listen to me? She thought.
So with a deep breath, she opened the small leather-bound book and realized she had no idea where Proverbs was. Sensing her anxiety, Malachi reached over and flipped the pages until they were both looking at Proverbs Twenty five. He had no idea what he was doing to her as his arm and hand slipped over and brushed against her chest. Finally, he was done, and he sat back up, waiting for her to start.
"These are also proverbs of Solomon, which the men of Hezekiah, king of Judah, copied out. How much do you want me to read?" Tamar asked, then noticed that Malachi had sprawled out on the bed. She couldn't tell if his eyes were closed, but she had a sneaking suspicion that they were.
"Just keep reading," was all he said.
When she finished the twenty-eight verse, she stopped and tossed the book onto his chest.
"Is that why you're so passive sometimes?"
"What do you mean, passive? I am not passive." He sat up and looked at her.
"Yes, you are. You could kill every single person down here in seconds. You could have killed the men that were chasing me and been done with it, but you didn't. You let them live, just as you let these people live. You have the power to do whatever you want, to force your will on everyone you meet, but you don't. Why?"
"Oh Tamar, just because a person can do something, doesn't mean it's right..." At that instant, Malachi was hit by an image in his head. A small girl with black hair covering her body huddled in a cage. Tears streamed down her cheeks as she was forced to watch a parade of people marched past her enclosure. When each passed where she sat, they were shot once in the back of the head and dragged out of the room. Tamar flinched with each shot, tears staining the surrounding floor.
"You must be strong if you're going to survive in this world. Now you're weak and I will continue to kill these people until you stop this childish reaction. These people are weak, nothing to the likes of us. Their only worth is for this demonstration." Tamar looked up and Malachi saw through her eyes. A woman with hair the color of flame looked through the bars at her. The smile on her face was as fake as her surgically enhanced smooth skin. But the wrinkles around her eyes betrayed her age and Malachi pegged her at close to fifty, if not over.
"I'm going to keep you in here until you learn to obey me without question. The sooner you comply, the sooner you can get out." Tamar just continued to stare straight ahead, her entire body shuddering with each pistol report.
"Fine, then stay in here and suffer. I'll keep you in here until you either obey me or they drag your dead body out and bring the next one in, your choice." With that, the woman spun away from her cage and strode from the room without a backwards glance.
Malachi heard something in his head, over the sound of the gun shots, the small talk of the guards, even the noise of the fans as they circulated the stale air with their blades.
"I want to kill you. Some day I will kill you. If I had the power, I would kill each one of you right now. You may be able to keep me here right now. But when I'm grown, I'll find a way. I'll get out of this cage and rip your throat out, you sadistic bitch."
Malachi's eyes flew open to a scene he'd never thought he'd see, never wanted to see. His suit was everywhere. It flowed up the walls, its tentacles floated through the air. Tamar sat next to him. Her eyes were wide with terror. The only reason she was still there was it was the only place his suit hadn't touched.
With a focus of will, every inch of blackness sucked back into him. In a rush, the room was as it was before, and Malachi's head spun to face Tamar.
"Oh my God. What did she do to you?" The words were out of his mouth before he could stop them.
He reached for her and she flinched away. She'd known he wouldn't hurt her. Somewhere deep inside, she'd sensed she wasn't in any danger. Even as the blackness of his suit had covered the room, Tamar hadn't moved a muscle.
But now she shied away from him. What had he seen that had made him lose control of his suit? Which one of the many ugly parts of her past had he glimpsed? It wasn't until his arm wrapped around her shoulder and he drew her to him that she knew. Somehow, she knew what he'd seen. Hayworth, it was always Hayworth! She couldn't pick the exact scene he'd seen, and yet she knew it was one of the room, her room, the one where she been kept, her cage. He'd just seen one of the most horrible places she'd ever experienced, the smell, the dirty, filthy, unsanitary conditions in which she's been forced to live, everything.
What if he'd heard her thoughts? She knew what she'd thought back then. Her want, no, need to kill each one of them had been the thing that kept her alive back then. She wasn't sorry for them, but Malachi was the last person on earth she wanted to see them. He was good and pure and everything she wished she could be, yet could never achieve.
But now he was pulling her to him, not yanking or over powering, just a steady pressure. He wanted her close, but was leaving the decision up to her. She looked up at his face and saw it, past his suit, to the man beneath. He was crying. She could see that tears were streaming down his face, tears for her.
This broke her in a way she couldn't comprehend. He'd seen her at her worst, at one of the times she'd wanted to kill every person she'd ever known, and he was crying. That depth of that caring broke every wall she'd ever built around her emotions, around her heart to keep all the world at bay so that she couldn't be hurt.
Tamar melted against him and the flood gates opened. She cried everything against his chest, and he took it all. His hands were in her hair, moving through the countless tangles, smoothing them out and working down to her skull. That contact sent chills to the very soles of her feet. No one had ever touched her hair. She had guarded it as if it were a treasure, because to her it was the only thing she'd ever had any control over. Now, as she let him work his fingers through it, her mind raced as the tears flowed. Each of them drawing so close to each other their hearts beat as one.
"Oh Tamar, I am so sorry I wasn't there. The things they did to you..." Malachi's voice, choked with emotion, was low in his throat so Tamar pushed the top of her head there so she could feel it as well as hear it.
Before she knew what she was doing, Tamar wrapped her arms around his back and drew her legs up into her chest. She was now laying on his chest, her entire body curled up and resting there.
"What did you see?" she asked when her sobs had abated enough for her to ask the question.
"I saw a woman with red hair, a cage, and people being shot for no reason. I saw you in a cage. It was if I was there," he shuddered. "The smells, the sounds, even the air. I experienced it as if I was there." His hands tightened around her as he let out a long, slow sigh.
"Her name is Hayworth, Barbra Hayworth. She made me what I am today." Tamar snuffled, wiping her nose with the back of her hand.
"She did not!" Tamar jumped, startled at the volume of his response. "She did not make you who you are. You did that, and you alone." He lifted her face to his so he could look her in the eye. "Tamar, you made yourself, no one else. You had the courage to escape that place. You survived alone until I found you, and it was you who gave me a chance to get to know you, when you could have run from me. When all others would have run from me. You made yourself into a beautiful young woman, and I'm glad to have the chance to be a part of your life." Tamar continued staring into those eyes, the cold red that she had associated with protection and peace.
Tamar started when she realized she wasn't looking at the red of his suit any longer. For the first time in the almost month that she'd known him, she was looking at his real eyes. They were so blue as to be almost white, his eyebrows black, his cheek-bones high on his face.
With a bit of hesitation, not knowing how he'd react, she took her right hand from behind his back. Leaning away from him to give herself room between them, Tamar brought her hand slowly, gently, hesitantly up to touch his cheek, his real cheek.
Malachi startled. He had felt no contact of any kind for almost eight months, so Tamar's touch confused, then bewildered him.
Tamar watched his suit begin to withdraw from the rest of his face until she could see everything.
"I knew you were handsome. I knew it." She said, sliding her hand down to cup his cheek in her tiny palm.
Malachi pushed his cheek against her hand, savoring his first physical contact in over half a year. Tears filled his eyes and through them, he stared back at Tamar.
"Thank you," was all he could say, and then before he realized his hand was moving, he was cupping the back of her head, his fingers once again worming their way through the tangles.
But this time, he was doing more than just massaging. His hand began to apply a slight pressure to the back of her head, beckoning her to move closer. He wanted this to be as much her idea as it was his. If she showed any hesitation, anything that would tell him she was against it, he would have stopped. Within a few seconds, though, he knew she wanted this as much as he did. Her eyes grew huge with fear, fear he realized of her not having a clue what she was doing. Their faces were now only inches apart. She could feel his breath on her lips, on her cheek, and he was moving far too slowly. So, with an inpatient hiss, she lifted her face to his and fused her lips to his.
They melted into each other's arms, neither of them knowing what they were doing, their instincts guiding them along. She clung to him, not wanting this moment to end. He held her close, never wanting to let her go. He held her fiercely, his fingers moving to her back, fingers moving across her shoulder, then once again into the forest of hair. She gasped into his mouth as his fingers sent lightning flashing all over her body, bringing her to life in a way she'd never known before. She moved against him, swiveling to straddle his chest, wrapping both legs around him and holding him in the vice like grip of her legs.
When they finally came up for air, Tamar nestled her head against his chest, just beneath his chin, and just listened to the sound of his heartbeat. She'd known that it wasn't going to go anywhere. His suit had only pulled back off his head, so anything else would have been problematic. Not that he would have anyway. He was far too much of a gentleman to have taken things that far. That was the reason Tamar had been able to do what she did. Completely safe was how she felt when around him. He wasn't going to do anything that she'd didn't want or felt comfortable with and she knew it. So she could give herself to him with no reservations, and it was the most freeing sensation she'd ever experienced.
So she laid on top of the most powerful man on the planet. Content to feel his arms around her and his strong heart beating its rhythm beneath her ear, and felt safe. For Tamar that was huge, she wrapped her arms around him again and squeezed with everything she had as tears of joy seeped from her eyes. She Tamar, the girl created to be a killing machine, was safe. Safe with a man everyone else thought was a killing machine, and he was. She'd seen him for what he was, a true killing machine. Having seen him destroy hundreds of Saltek, even full Rougarians Tamar knew what he was capable of. Yet he came to her as a tiger to its mate, power just beneath the surface, yet to her completely tamed.
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