Bear

Chapter 18: Birdie

There's an alienating numbness frozen into my veins, and if I'm being entirely honest with myself, I know that it's not entirely unfamiliar. It's that sort of odd feeling, like you're floating in space, nothing else around you but empty space; the real world millions of miles away.

The medical brain in me knows I'm disassociating myself from this morning, and yet I can't do anything to snap out of it.

The door shutting muffles the boisterous laughter and music coming from down in the bar, even though it's early afternoon the bikers are particularly raucous. I don't have the energy or presence of mind to stop to think about why; all I know is that I'm grateful to get away from the noise.

Bear lets go of me when I step into the room, leaving me lingering like a ghost in the middle of the room. The bed looks inviting, but even in the fresh pair of scrubs I changed into before I left work, that feels entirely illegal to do.

He doesn't say anything like I think I expect him to, or perhaps I'm hoping for him to. The new quietness that I thought I had wanted ringing in my ears, allowing uncomfortable feelings and thoughts to trickle back in.

He walks past me into the joining bathroom, he shuffles around for a few moments. Then with a sudden burst to life, sound fills silence, the shower starts.

It's unexpected, and it throws me off but I don't mind so much; it's distracting enough to push back the unwanted thoughts.

Bear's broad frame stuffs most of the doorway as he leans against the frame watching me with those ocean blue eyes. Usually those eyes on me are enough to heat my cheeks, or between my thighs, but all I feel now is empty. Tired.

He steps back into the main room, stalking over to me with slow purposeful movements. His hands reach for the bottom of my shirt, and I raise my arms to let him pull the shirt off me.

There is nothing searching about his eyes or hands, he is not undressing me for my body; still he manages to act with the same tenderness he does when he makes sure that I've received my pleasure before he takes his.

I feel a sharp sense of relief, like a gust of breeze raising goosebumps on my skin. Whilst I've never once worried that Bear might ever try to take advantage of me, I had feared, even after his reassurance, that I'm little more than a bed warmer for him. The little doubt that loitered in the back of my mind shatters entirely.

My hands reach for my bottoms, sliding them down my thighs until they are nothing but a pile on the floor leaving me nothing but my underwear. He offers his hand to me, and my eager searching palm intertwines itself with his own.

He leads me wordlessly over to the bathroom, to the glass stall raining with warm water.

I let him guide me, let him finish undressing me, let him guide me under the hot stream of water. Like nothing but a void shell, I let him look after me and hope that his actions might coax some life back into me.

A heavy sigh cleaves from my lips, the overwhelming onslaught of emotions threatening to drown me swells within. Enough for me to recognise the bitter taste of grief, of guilt, of anger.

Bear's hands are warm as he massages my shoulders. He says nothing, just washes every inch of me and the events of the day with it. Then, he holds me, letting my tears mix with the warm water until there is nothing left but vapour.

#

I don't know how long we stay in the shower, but by the time Bear finally switches off the water, our skin is entirely prune-like and I feel a little more human.

I slip on clean underwear, and one of Bear's 'Soul Reapers' shirts before curling up beside him on our bed. He waits for me with open arms, gathering me to his chest and letting his fingers trailing a languid path up and down my bare arm.