Cold Visions of Future's Past

Chapter Five

Unedited.

Chapter Five

Probably should've wiped the blood off.

To my surprise, Michael wasn't waiting curbside when I exited S&A.

Nor in the lobby of his apartment building.

Or in the entryway outside his door.

He backed his way out of my head when the arguing got heated and only utilized the bond to keep track of my location. His withdrawal set me into a bit of a tailspin when I noticed it. I knew, rationally, he did it for privacy, but it gave me panicked flashbacks to how he'd handled my occasional conflict with Aidan.

I could feel his mix of anxiety and worry and anger and it amped up the same feelings in myself. I didn't know if it was the newly declared intentions or Michael's own refusal of the yet undisclosed security protocols that triggered this bout of mixed emotions. But he braced for a fight, nonetheless, and I wasn't sure I had the energy to give him one. I cared why he didn't say anything but at the same time—I understood his want not to stress me out. And I was, extremely, stressed out. No matter what I did, that level never went down.

Maybe being serious about quitting the Guild should be on the table.

I wanted a nap, to relax, to decompress. A fucking cup of coffee would be fantastic. But I knew I needed to talk with Michael and considering our history, it would be wrong of me to stay silent before hiding away somewhere to just be and think. Old habits would have me let things simmer, go unsaid to the point both of us ended up resenting those unspoken words and each other. I didn't want that to happen. At all. I wanted this go-round to be smoother than the last time, than all the other relationships I'd been in. Therefore, the adult thing to do would be to talk about it, completely. Not half-assed like I normally would.

I let the bond tug me through the apartment until I found him sitting in his office, staring blankly at the book in front of him. His mind churned, a storm brewed behind those blue eyes, but he kept his mind open for me to read if I wanted. He may have withdrawn but he hadn't closed himself off, not anymore. He looked up and regarded me with an impassive face, like he waited for my storm to meet his before saying anything.

But I didn't really have a storm for his to meet. I was a bit of a flat sea at the moment.

Though, I did look a mess. I hadn't changed out of my med ward attire with a good amount of blood smeared across my forearm where I'd torn out the IV. I just wanted to get out of there, had no inclination to visit my empty apartment in order to change. I said I was done and I meant it. Finished with empty, haunted rooms and hollow words.

I didn't want to be a ghost anymore.

I just wanted to go home.

And I finally knew where that was now.

His eyes darted from the blood on my arm to my face. "You hurt yourself."

I rubbed my thumb over the tail end of the blood smear.

"And you left without a coat." His eyes dropped to my feet. "And shoes."

I said I look a mess, right? I was in a hurry.

He sighed and sat back in his chair, not getting up to keep his distance. Showing restraint when I knew that churning, boiling storm had suddenly turned a bit violent. "So much in a hurry you forgot the streets of New York City aren't exactly sanitary?"

I hear that's what baths are for. I leaned against the door jam. Why are you closed up in here? I expected coffee and a bagel with my favorite delivery person to be waiting for me. In the lobby. I tilted my head. Out there.