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“I’m not sure I’ve felt this betrayed in my life.”
Her words were thistles tangled around his throat. A conjured darkness that sprawled and consumed, the hurt no greater than against someone he loved. There was nothing he could say to those words to make the truth any easier for her to hear, oh, but he tried.
“I’ve tried to protect you.”
“And you failed.”
The planned speech she was to make was interrupted.
A fire, caused by an unaccounted-for wiring error, had begun a small blaze at the entrance to the senate. She’d made a glib remark only the day before that she had walked through fire to get to this point, only for it to now block her path.
When she dismissed him, the darkness told him this is where it would end, but he hesitated to delete her from his calendar. A force not of his own mind told him to wait, so he did.
The entry came through twenty-one minutes later, the same subject line, the same location populating her calendar, and quickly arriving in his. He could see in real time the edits she was making to the invite: the subject was removed and replaced, then the edits were discarded entirely, even as the appointment remained on both calendars.
He didn’t need to accept the invite; he had never had to before. It’s what they always did, holding the space and the time, but never acknowledging the ask.
He had forgone a speeder and walked to the location, hoping the walk would foster some bravery. He imagined all the possibilities of why the invite appeared, the good and the bad. Would she show? Was it a trap? A change of heart?
But it was too early for forgiveness.
That would have to wait until she was free and clear of the Empire, if it was even offered then at all. If he could offer some reparation, would she accept it? She was the one who added the meeting to their diaries; she knew what it represented. To him, that had to mean something.
So when he pulled back the door to the small one-bedroom apartment, he stepped in ready for anything, but hoping for something more… something this room was made for, something other than dismissal.
“I wasn’t sure you’d come.”
“I keep my appointments, Senator.”
Her eyes were brimming with freshly gathered tears, pooling, and on the cusp of release, when a new player walked onto the stage: anger.
He was pushed against the wall, her fists falling to either side of his face. Trapped by her, a fate he had accepted long ago, a cage he was more than willing to inhabit.
Her body inhaled, a weak attempt to bring any oxygen to her lungs. Her exhale was stilted and tripped past the thistles lining her throat; she gave up trying to be angry. Anger wouldn’t let her breathe; it would rather she choke instead. But it wasn’t anger that bound her in this state; it was pain, and if she was to suffer, then he needed to heal her.
Her lips met his with a rough and crushing force, tears now spilling, as the thistles and thorns loosened their clutch on her. She felt him push back and twist her as she collided against the wall.
“Help me,” he heard her whisper.
Her face flushed as he watched her remove the long robe that had kept her body hidden. He unclasped her pendant and placed it securely in his pocket. Removing his jacket, he left it on the table that neither of them had ever eaten at. Her shoes were kicked to a distant corner, as he slipped off his, unaware of where they had landed. They knew the steps to take and the place where the carpet was uneven. A delicate tiptoe of steps, barely touching the ground, mimicking each other’s moves, until he sat her at the edge of the bed and knelt.
“It’s too early for forgiveness,” He said. “And I won’t ask…”
“Then don’t,” she replied, gathering his chin with a single finger. “Make me know no other word but your name.”
He placed his own finger against her shoulder and pushed the Senator off her pedestal, watching her fall back to the bed beneath her. Her body arched, and her knees willingly parted, as he trailed the same finger between them, separating her dress from her legs.
Unusually nervous, he had prayed at this altar before, but instead of offering praise, he was pleading for forgiveness. He undressed her slowly, the stilted movements of her garments making languid trails down her legs to her feet. Free of any barrier, he kissed her thighs, a cautionary but revelling gesture, an offer of himself and his dedication to her as penance.
He felt her moan as his tongue guided its way to her lips, teasing them apart, tasting the heady juices of her, wet and offering him entrance. A glimpse to his left, he saw her hand clutch at the sheet beneath her, knuckles white as he reached her tender spot. He kept her under his lips, suckling at her clit and guiding her upwards and over each rolling hill of ecstasy with his fingers.
He heard his name like an order to pursue, asking for his flesh, for his body against hers like a wild beast would call to its prey. He pulled away from her, quickly shedding all barriers that would keep him from fulfilling her commands, and as he lowered himself against her, allowing her body to make way for his, slowly, he felt for a moment that all was not lost, that maybe forgiveness was in his reach.
She took his hips and turned them over. It was his turn on the altar now. He’d watch as this wild god-like creature swan above him, beads of sweat falling from her as honey he wished to taste. But she would not be interrupted as she rode on top of him, pressing him deeper and faster as her wild strands of copper swung about her.
He moved with her, and without her, at one point in her thrusts, he knew she was gone, lost in her own mind, wildfire amongst the thorns. He had witnessed this on the day of his betrayal, on the dance floor, where she was a raging fire amongst a contented, complacent few. His body now became the dance floor, and her dance was a grief he was not invited to.
She reached the last note of her dance, where the high was too high, as the fall brought her crashing to the floor. She lay on his chest, watching as her breath moved the small hairs against his skin.
“I’m not going to make it.”
He raised his head to enquire what she meant, but she continued before he could ask.
“The speech, once it’s done, there’s no way out. Every door, every room, I’ve calculated every exit. I know how long it takes to get to every place, every hiding spot. I’m not going to make it.”
He lifted himself, elbows resting against the bed as he observed how strongly she believed her own words. Her eyes were full of conviction; she believed she was going to die, or… worse.
“You know more places than they do, and you won’t be alone.”
She pulled herself off him, no longer a god, but a naked woman, who had for a few brief moments not thought about what was to come.
“You’re forgiven, Erskin.”
“I… I didn’t ask.”
“You didn’t have to. I won’t go to my death with hardness in my heart.”
She draped herself in her robe; she wasn’t ready to wear anything else. It didn’t seem to matter that a chill entered the air, escaping from a gap that shouldn’t exist, from a window that shouldn’t be opened.
“We should say goodbye.”
“I intend to see you tomorrow.”
She didn’t reply, but she watched him dress. She always liked to watch him dress.
“Your pendant.”
“Hold it,” she replied. “It can’t go on until I’m dressed.”
He watched her dress. He always liked to watch her dress.
Her clothes on and her coat fitted, she adjusted her sleeves.
“It doesn’t fit as well anymore. Perhaps I’ll get another,” she added, not planning to do such a thing. Only wanting to offer Erskin the idea that she was thinking of the future, when clearly that future didn’t exist.
He affixed her pendant and straightened her jacket.
Picking up her datapad, she checked her calendar. “It appears our time is up.”
Walking her to the door, he asked her without thinking. “Shall I schedule another time?”
“Hmm,” was all she could say; her hands were shaking.
“You’ve never missed a meeting.”
A flicker of a smile, however fleeting, he saw it.
“I guess I don’t.”
“Then I’ll set an appointment.”
“Yes, and this time,” she said, locking the door behind them. “I might just accept.”