The Innocent (A 'Finder' Fanfiction)

Gemini - Chapter 9

They flew through the nights of Warsaw for nearly forty minutes to the other side of the city, while the rain set in and let the streetlights wash down the windows. Not once did the boy on the back seat raise his head, not one syllable did he mutter.

In the inner yard of a block of old, tall buildings, Aaron finally parked the car. The whole row of houses around had been bought by an investment firm some months ago, which had started to strip down the buildings to their core – presumably to erect expensive lofts inside and sell them for dizzying prizes. But, that company had suddenly found itself involved in some tax fraud, and by now the managers had either left the country or were biding their time in pending investigation. In the wake of all of that, the property had been placed in the hands of some small company that was simply supposed to take care of everything – so it would not fall into ruin. After all, this area of the city was slowly becoming an expensive one, and not any of the new neighbors or investors wanted an eyesore in their sight.

That managing company, however, happened to be a front firm owned by Alex – not that his name would ever be found on any paper or in any document. All the same, it meant that Aaron could use the buildings and could prevent anybody else from sticking their noses in.

Through the downpour he carried the limp body to the back-entrance of the prettiest building: One more than 120-years-old seven-story house on which some of the Art Nouveau elements had outlasted the abasement brought upon by the Warsaw Pact's disrespect towards anything old and beautiful.

All the way up to the top floor, he climbed with the boy now named Arata in his arms. He only had to free one hand, still balancing his cargo, to unlock the door to the apartment up there and open it.

The flat behind was stripped to the brick walls, and the inner separations between what had once been several rooms had all been emptied, so that now only the wood structures remained. The bathroom alone was still intact – though many tiles had already been broken from the walls.

In the last few days, however, Aaron had made sure that the area was clean and tidy. All dust and residue from the construction work had been cleared out, the bathroom's furniture had been scrubbed, the windows wiped. A fridge and a bed had been brought up, a table, some chairs, a large sofa, linens and towels and boxes with clothes and food and whatever else one needed to make an undisturbed living up here for at least some days.

With the boy still wrapped in the blanked, Aaron walked right through to the bathroom. He placed his freight cautiously into the bathtub, which was sparkling clean just like the rest, but once again, Arata did not let go of his arm. He had his eyes squeezed shut and seemed not to breathe, until Aaron caressed his hair and whispered to him.

"It is alright. Don't be afraid. It is over."

Only then, with warm hands gently setting him upright, did the young man finally let go.

He opened it eyes, blinking against the friendly light from the ceiling. There was an opened window through which some soft breeze was finding its way inside, but the shutter outside had been bolted ... Aaron's guest should be allowed to open the windows and think of himself as being free. Yet, the shutters – he would tell him – needed to be fixed. They were broken and could not be moved. It was just too dangerous. Somebody down on the street could get hurt by falling debris. Oh my!

For a moment Aaron just sat there, looking the other up and down, who had once again tugged his knees to his chest and now gazed blankly ahead like a deer that tried to stare down the lights of an approaching car.

"Would you like to take a bath?", Aaron asked quietly. It made the other flinch, nonetheless.

A hardly visible shaking of the head was the only answer.

"You should ...", the Russian contradicted. Man, the boy stunk! And he was covered in dirt all over. Aaron wondered if he would have to peel the pajama from his skin. But he could not use any force. Not even patronizing persuasion. He was the good one. The gentle one.

He laid a steady, encouraging hand onto the other's shoulder and the slight shiver, that had been running up and down that frail body once more, stopped.

"The water will be warm and soft. It won't burn you. You will not freeze. You will be washed clean and all of that bad memory will be swept away. You will get out of here as if you were reborn. And then you can sleep, cuddled in a bed. And no one will disturb you. No one will touch you. And no one will ever hurt you. I promise."

Arata tug his head a bit lower between his shoulders, yet his eyes now looked up at the other.

His lower lip trembled for a moment, then he nodded – ever so slightly.

"Good", Aaron hummed. "Very good."

He stood up, but his arm was caught once more. He nearly stumbled.

"Don't go!", Arata shrieked in desperation. The boy had darted upwards from the bathtub and clung to the man with all his light weight and strength.

"Ok! Ok!", Aaron promised, sinking onto his knees besides the tub again.

He had wanted to give the kid time to come to terms with himself – switch on the water for himself; get naked, when he was ready to. But now he realized that that was not going to happen.

He would have to do it. Because he was the good one.

And so, he did. Gingerly he caressed the black shirt down those shivering arms and let it fall onto the floor where it was out of view. Then he helped Arata out of the trousers. The stink only increased because of that. Now there were two sources: the filthy clothes and the filthy boy.

Only moving away, a tiny bit, he took the shower head and held it onto his own wrist to check the water's temperature. Plumbing, electricity and heating were very luckily still intact in the whole complex of buildings – one of the reasons why Aaron had chosen this place. When he was sure that the temperature was just right, he turned back to the other, who sat there as before: like a frightened animal hugging itself. He was frail and bruised all over, ... and the dirt!

Aaron let the first drops of water spill over the boy's toes, and the animal flinched away, staring at the man frightened for one second. But that instant passed, and after it, he allowed himself to be washed. He allowed the hands of the man to touch every bit of him; he even leaned into them, seeking their warmth and comfort and strength.

There were some sighs now and then, and soon Arata's eyes were closed.

After the dirt had been washed away, Aaron put the plug into the outlet, added some bathing salt and let the tub fill. The young man sank into the warm, loving water, finally letting go of his knees, finally relaxing. He leaned his head against a towel which Aaron gave him to feel even more comfortable, while the Russian tenderly washed his hair, again and again. He even applied some conditioner and treatments and let it all soak in, never moving away for more than a step, as that would make the other look up in fear and distress.

"I will not leave you", Aaron promised again and again.

And Arata believed it.

It became indeed his only religion.