Ineffable - S.REID

12

・゜゜・．A MONTH LATER .・゜゜・

Spencer, after the fifteenth time Clara had asked, finally relented and let her cut his hair. He could not handle the length of it anymore and he just wanted to see whether it would be a nice experience for her to do it rather than some rushed barber. He hated the barber shops. To his surprise, the first time she had told him, she was a fully qualified hairdresser. She had learnt and trained during college (through one of her aunts) as a business venture. She cut college kids' hair for a fraction of the price hairdressers would ask for and still made enough money to not feel the student pocket pinch that others did.

After asking for his permission, Clara stepped forward and began to rake her fingers through his hair just to get a feel of how it moved and to decide what route was best to take with it. Spencer, while thoroughly confused, remained silent and just watched as her mind ticked through various questions and answers as silence but for the gentle music from the radio filled the room. She for a second, glanced at his face to check the front and made eye contact that lasted a little too long. She stepped away, letting her hands fall to her side, as she cleared her throat, "It's probably best to cut this wet,  I have an attachment on the upstairs bathroom."

Spencer, after fifteen minutes, came back down the stairs with a towel around his shoulders which he used to blot the edges of his hair so it didn't drip onto the floor. In that time, Clara had set up all her tools and the various mirrors she usually used while giving haircuts - she still had a couple customers even now. He sat down in the chair which she gestured too, looking at the mirrors in wonderment as she began placing dozens of clips on the edge of her sweater. He cleared his throat softly and inaudible, nerves beginning to bite as his thoughts. "What's the purpose of all the mirrors?"

"Oh I make sure people can see every angle of their head while I cut their hair, so they can communicate things and change things while or before I trim. I find more people liked that then hated it, I can move them if it bothers you," she quickly responded, briefly smiling at the memory of the friend that had suggested it in the first place. They didn't speak now but the memories of their friendship still shone brightly.

"It doesn't bother me. They should do that in professional hairdressers," he commented whilst nervously drumming his hands on his legs.

"And steal all my business?" she joked in such a way that they both laughed and the feeling soothed away some of his nervousness.

"I hate the barbers," he divulged as she stepped back towards him, comb in one hand.

"I figured given how long you managed to stay away from one," she laughed but paused as she brushed her hands through his hair again, watching as it now fell past his shoulders. "How much did you want off?" Clara asked whilst attempting to get some of the curl pattern back so she knew how to cut it best.

"Two inches and a half."

"Of course you'd be that specific," she smiled in such a way that he did not feel uncomfortable as he would if others made that comment but instead his stomach flipped. The feeling was intensified as she forked ran the comb through his hair, beginning to pin up sections with such ease and elegance that he couldn't help but watch. Clara picked a spot at the side of his head where she knew a mirror directly pointed and measured out what she thought would be the right length, marking it with her fingers. "Is that right?"

He looked in the mirror for a second then took his hand in hers, moving her fingers up ever so slightly to the correct length. He smiled softly and retracted his hand, placing back exactly as it had been resting before. Clara measured the length by the lines on her comb to ensure that she did not incorrectly measure any pieces. "Tilt your head down a little?" she asked softly, feeling the need to do so in their close proximity. He did not hesitate to do so and this time did not flinch as he felt hair fall to the floor. She backed away, let him check the length was correct, and with an approving smile from him she continued. He admired how she worked methodically around his head, ensuring that each piece was the correct length before moving to the next even if it took extra time and effort. He could not help but watch, enamored by the focused yet caring look in her eyes. It was the best hair cutting experience he had ever had in his life, a usually stressful experience turned into something so comforting that he could have fallen asleep right then and there.

"Clara," he abruptly spoke, snapping her out of her intently focused state.

"Hm?" she hummed whilst brushing through the ends of his hair, cutting a few of the curls shorter.

"I found your case report from when you were undercover yesterday. I just look through cases sometimes, when I'm bored... I didn't go looking for it, if that's what you think..."

She remained silent for a moment and he watched as her gaze flicked from his hair to his own eyes. "Did you read it?" she asked softly as they both looked at each other through the mirror and he could not help but fixate on the sudden sad look in her eyes, he hated himself for bringing it up at an instant.

"No," he whispered. "I didn't want to invade your privacy."

"You can read it if you would like to, I don't mind. I assumed you already had, if i'm honest."

He quickly attempted to read the situation and decided that this was one of those moments where he could ask for more information. "I'd rather hear it from you, if you're comfortable."

"Haircut and a scary story will cost you a bunch of flowers," she joked and they both chuckled, despite the sudden concern that became prominent in his mind. "Where to start, okay um. Well I got into the whole undercover thing purely because I didn't and still don't really have much of a background history. There's not really much evidence of my existence so it was rather easy for them to just hide it all away, I was a nanny for one of the leaders, I worked with about five children ranging from one to fifteen. From the nanny job, I was pushed into helping with general meetings, serving drinks and other things if it was necessary. And then they forced me to kill a snitch so I was tied to the organization in the same way everyone was," she took a deep breath and he could not help but notice the shakiness of it. "Can I add some layers? Just for movement and it will make your curls look good. They're subtle I promise."

"Go for it, I trust you," he responded gently, almost hesitatingly but he no longer cared about his hair.

A pause followed as she pinned up a couple sections, putting her focus into his hair again so the shared secrets didn't bring up such deep thoughts. "He's still alive, I switched out the bullet in the gun and untied the ropes so he didn't drown. But from there, I had proved myself so I got involved in pretty much everything. I witnessed the torturing of information, the deals with the police and the thousands upon thousands of drug related events that occurred. I've seen men without their eyes, I've seen people with their tongues cut out trying desperately to communicate... I saw a little boy that I nannied to follow in the footsteps of all the torturous endeavors which was arguably the worst of them all. Shootouts were more often than I ever thought they could be, we were constantly told to wear vests under our clothes. Then I met the actual boss who really wasn't what you'd expect, but I had all the information I needed. It took the FBI three months to get in contact with me, so I witnessed some pretty awful things during that time because the boss just took a liking to me and my way of doing things. He called me the torturer of the mind and it was more effective than the brutality. I guess I just have a brain that sees patterns where other people don't and in that circumstance I could use them to my advantage and for my own survival really. The day that I got out and the group were all arrested, I naively thought it would all be over and I could just forget about it. I still look for them in the shadows when I'm alone. And I would be stupid to believe that it's not all still functioning underground and the remaining gang do not have a vengeance for their dead leader and all the other followers that have been imprisoned..."

"He died?"

"Lethal injection. I wasn't allowed to go and I don't think I would have, it's nice to think i'll never have to see any of them ever again," she smiled subtly but it fell almost instantly. A second followed, where she glanced at him then his hair and then stepped away completely. She cleared her throat and smiled, this time it stuck, "All done."

He took all of three seconds to look in the mirror and check his hair over, it looked absolutely perfect and was at the length that he had wanted it to be almost exactly. Then he turned in the chair and directed all his attention towards her, watching as she packed away her tools once more. "First of all, thank you for telling me and reliving it all again. And second of all, thank you for this. You have no idea how much discomfort you just saved me."

"You're very welcome Spence," she smiled brightly and chuckled somewhat under her breath. "Honestly it's nice to see you not hidden behind your hair."