Recovery

The Depths of Battle

Urdu

Urdu had never known Tim to cry.

He felt his emotions as freely as anyone else did, but had never shown such pain as in those moments. And she had pushed him past the breaking point.

Both he and Sam were breaking under the weight of everything she did, or didn't, do.

She woke to the sound of both of them still sleeping, though Tim had not yet realized that whatever changes he had gone through meant he actually did sleep and he would never admit that he was.

The echoes of Urdu's mental screams were in her ears from her dreams, the pain and emptiness from the torment she had lived threatening to drown her with the reminder of exactly what her presence was doing to the two people she loved.

But that was the voice of the world eater and the words it had used when it had found out who she really was, what she had really done. When it had tried to break through every last bit of her and kill her. And Timothy had said that he needed her to do this. That Sam needed her to do this.

Unheeded tears formed in her eyes and streamed down her cheeks as she forced herself through the exhaustion and smothering weight of her mind to refuse to allow herself to be pulled under again. She wanted more than anything to turn into Tim and spend the extra minutes before they woke breathing in their scents, but she was frightened that if she didn't move, she wouldn't win the battle.

Urdu slipped silently out of bed and down the hallway into the bathroom, using the routine of the shower to build up her will to get through the day. She would go to look at this shelter, though she still felt no desire to have anything to do with it. The thrill she had felt after sparring, that had left her agreeing to contemplate it, to try it, had still not returned. She wasn't afraid of going there. It wasn't fear that dragged her down, it was this binding, smothering, hold that her mind had on her.

But if it meant as much to Sam and Tim as it did, she would do it, and she would give it a shot, if only to feel their hope, their happiness as she had glimpsed it in those moments when she was more than this.

As she was climbing out of the shower, she smelled the scent of roses and turned toward where she knew Sam was standing.

She could hear the woman breathe, her heart beat thrumming in her ear before Samantha spoke. "You forgot clothing."

"I suppose I'm going to stand out enough. Don't need to add being naked to the list of odd things about me..." Urdu murmured lightly, forcing a smile across her lips, if only to show that she was trying to be lighthearted.

"Being naked doesn't bother you, does it?" Sam whispered softly as she approached, her feet whispering against the tiles of the bathroom floor, before Urdu felt a towel being placed in her hands.

Before she could take the towel from the woman and fall into the robotic motions of self care, she forced herself to whisper. "I miss what you used to do."

She felt a flash of guilt that weighed down on her at the imposition until she felt a wave of happiness from Sam as the woman stepped closer and began to gently towel her off. Sam wasn't as timid as she used to be, but she was caring as she used the soft fabric to stroke and caress Urdu's skin, before stepping closer to wrap it around Urdu's body.

Urdu slid her arms around the woman, pressing her face into Samantha's shoulder and breathing in her scent. She fought back a smile when her hands only found bare skin. Samantha hadn't even put on a robe to come here. "It does not bother me at all. The body isn't always a sexual tool."