Displaced

Timber - Thirty-Five

Lara played for about another hour before we made our way back up to the apartment. It was lunch time, and I wanted to make sure Chevelle was okay.

"She's fine," Lara said.

"I know," I said. Though I wasn't too sure if I believed it.

When we opened the glass door to the apartment, I smelled pasta. Chevelle was busy grumbling over the stove, so I couldn't quite tell what was going on. Lara ran off to the bedroom.

"Hello?" I called out.

She startled. "What are you doing here?"

"We live here too, you know." I entered the kitchen so I could pour myself a glass of water. "You forget that already?"

"It's still something I need to get used to, but I meant, I figured you'd be playing or going to do more stuff out in our habitat."

"Habitat, good word for it." As good of a definition as any since we were in some kind of glorified zoo. I leaned against the counter and watched her cook. She was kind of like a fish out of water. The water was boiling a little too much and she wasn't paying attention to what she was doing.

Smiling, I moved closer. "Do you want me to finish this?"

"No!"

"Chill," I mumbled, stepping back again, putting my hands up in front of me in case she decided to try and attack. Honestly, I wouldn't put it past her to take the spoon and beat me away with it.

A quiet growl could be heard coming from her, kind of low and guttural like an angry cat. Weird, to say the least. She turned the heat off of the stove and moved to bring the pot over so she could drain it in the sink.

"Eh-hem, you're in my way." She glared.

I scooted off to the side even though I wasn't blocking anywhere she'd need to be. Why was she lashing out at me so much? She drained the pot and started to mix in the remaining ingredients for her boxed macaroni and cheese lunch. Yuck. Once you learn how to make delicious, healthy options, it's hard to go back to the processed stuff. Of course, I have my moments where I indulge. Who doesn't? But most of that stuff doesn't sit well in my body to begin with, so why bother?

Chevelle glanced over at me, still glaring as she did so. "Why are you just standing there anyway? Don't you have anything else to do? Like play outside or explore? Wasn't that the whole point of going out today?"

"It was to show you around, and I think you should come back out again to get a good look at everything. Right now, I want to know why you're getting so pissy with me. I didn't do anything."

"I'm not being pissy with you."

"You're biting off my head. That hungry?"

She snorted. "Are all your jokes so lame?"

"Yes, now answer the question."

"I'm mad, okay? Mad at these stupid aliens who kidnapped us and made me your keeper, mad at Wicken for being such an idiot and getting himself into trouble, mad at everyone! Okay?" She clenched her hands into fists. "And you're not helping coming in and trying to do everything for me. You don't have to take care of me. Even if we are in this together, I'm not helpless."

I took the verbal beating and held my tongue, sort of. "I'm not sure what I did to make you mad, but I'm sorry, I guess."

She screamed. "We've been here for two days and you're acting like nothing is wrong."

"Everything is wrong."

"Then why pretend?"

"Because there's no point in yelling. Everything is out of my control. Our control. Acting mad isn't going to bring us back. We've talked about this." I gazed down at the floor, rubbing my arms slowly. If she knew how afraid I actually was, she wouldn't be able to rely on me anymore for any kind of strength. She'd see how weak I truly was. I didn't have the option to curl up and cry. It was acceptable for her to lash out. Me? Not so much. I have pride, and if the Achlivans are in fact watching everything, what would they think of such an outburst?

Chevelle stirred the contents of her pot, shaking her head. "I can't stand the thought that he's getting hurt like that. What makes it worse is I could do something about it, but I'd have to hurt you in return. This is too much pressure for my shoulders. I'm not brave or strong."

"Then let me help you carry some of it." My eyes were wide and pleading, hoping she got the point. She had to stop shutting me out every time something upset her. I barely knew her, but I was beginning to notice this pattern. Everything would seem fine and then as soon as things got overwhelming she'd shut down before freaking out. Maybe it was her way of trying to stop the freak out from happening, but after she finished with expressing her emotions to the fullest, she went back to shutting down anyway. None of that could have been healthy for her. I understood it, but there had to be a better way.

I didn't think she thought I was capable of helping her with her burdens because she raised both of her eyebrows before shaking her head again. "You can't help me with everything."

"Because you won't let me."

"And what about you? You don't let me help you."

Groaning, I went to go sit at the kitchen table. "Do you want me to pour my guts out, is that it? Fine, I'm scared too. I think I said that earlier though when we first got here. Only thing is, you don't have to worry about being expendable, about being nothing more than a toy. I've been an object before. It comes with the job, but never before has it had life or death consequences attached to it."

"And I hate that too! I don't want you to take care of me out of some duty or stupid idea that you need to in order for me to want to keep you around!"

"I don't think that." Now it was my turn to glare at her. "I'm not worried about you wanting to keep me around. I'm worried about them wanting to keep me around."

Chevelle opened the cupboards rather roughly and pulled out a few bowls. "Stop it. Stop trying to be Mr. Perfect. Stop being someone you're not. It's driving me crazy. You think I can't tell? It's obvious. Don't be so freaking helpful all of the time!"

"Fine! Geez!" I rolled my eyes, annoyed, frustrated, and in general, mad. If she didn't want my help, I wouldn't give it to her. Didn't she understand that helping her made me feel better? It kept my mind off of everything, made me feel like I was strong and able to protect both her and Lara. Control, it was all about control. I needed that too.

She brought a bowl of macaroni and cheese over and set it down in front of me. I picked up a fork and ate it even though it tasted bland and all-around awful. Good thing I wasn't feeling overly hungry then.

Chevelle sat down across from me. "You shouldn't ever be an object. Here or back home, but especially here. Don't look at yourself as my thing or as expendable. I'm not going to let them take you away from me. You're a good guy, as far as I can tell, and I don't want anything bad to happen to you either. Paul said there's another way to help Wicken, so I'm going to trust him that he has a plan. It's been only three days, so maybe it's been the same amount of time for Wicken. I mean, assuming time passes the same way here as it does for him. Who knows what the Achlivans do? I just wish there was a way to tell him to hold on and that I'm here for him. What if he gives up before he realizes there's a chance for him to get away?"

"At least we know there's a way out," I said quietly.

Lara re-entered the room and sat down next to me. "Are you done fighting now?"

My gaze met Chevelle's and I noticed that her cheeks turned a soft shade of pink. She tended to do that any time we made eye contact. I nodded, and so did she.

"Yeah, we're done fighting," I said. For now at least, but I was pretty sure the conversation wasn't over yet. Small steps.