Betrayed (7 page)

HE'D NEVER QUITE BEEN ABLE TO
figure out how she did it. All that bitterness and distrust and sorrow should have made her so ugly, shouldn't it? Wasn't inner joy and inner peace what made people beautiful? That angelic glow that always shone through in old masters' paintings and old Hollywood movies? Wasn't that beauty? Yes, in every other case but this one. But that made sense, Ed supposed. Gaia was an exception to just about every rule. Here she was, set against the dank halls of a hospital, her tangled hair falling down her shoulders in greasy tendrils, staring straight ahead with a cold, vengeful glare, looking so pale and exhausted under the gray-blue fluorescent light…

And she was beautiful.

More than beautiful. Something about her transcended the entire scene. She wasn't like those paintings of docile angelic maidens with their cherubic inner glow. No, she was like the paintings of the martyrs and the warriors. Joan of Arc. The steely-eyed Greek goddesses on bucking horses with swords over their heads, forging on through a sea of enemies, weathering the winds of Zeus or whatever the hell else got in their way. That was Gaia. A warrior goddess, forging on through the crap-storm of her life, yet somehow always seeming completely untouched by the crap.

Ed tried to keep pace with her as they sped down the only available hallways. One of the beauties of walking was that Ed could finally keep up with Gaia's determined stomping without getting tire burns from pumping his wheels or underarm cramps from pumping his crutches. He matched her step for step, and with each overdriven stride, he struggled to find the right first words. He had to find the words that would cut through her lies and bring her back. “Look, I—”

“Now's not a good time to talk, Ed,” she snapped coldly, keeping her eyes fixed straight ahead as they made their way down a particularly long hall.

“Gaia, come on, can we just—”

“Ed.”
Gaia swiveled her head to all sides, darting her eyes suspiciously through every doorway they passed. She was obviously convinced that her uncle could be waiting around any corner at any time. Her uncle probably
was
waiting just inside the next room down the hall, holding his finger to the trigger of an AK-47 and counting down from three. But that possibility was not going to hold Ed back at this point. And not for any good reason. It wasn't as if he were being particularly brave. In fact, he was quite sure he was indulging in new heights of stupidity. But when you realize that you
haven't
lost the love of your life after days and days of head-crushing depression, you'll do incredibly stupid things. And you won't care.

At this point, Ed was basically applying skaters' law to matters of the heart. Rule number five in Shred's Personal Skating Manifesto: If you see a great jump, you must take it. You can figure out the landing later.

“You know…I can take care of myself,” he offered tentatively.

“Glad to hear it,” she muttered in response.

“I mean, if, for instance, maybe you were treating me like crap to keep me away from you…so that you could
protect
me, you know, from your uncle…” He checked for a reaction and got absolutely nothing. He couldn't even get her eyes to roll in his direction. “Well, that wouldn't be necessary,” he said. “I mean, I appreciate the thought, but it's not necessary.”

“That's not what's going on,” she assured him quickly, sounding almost too insistent. Her head dropped so that she was staring at the floor. And she began to pick up the pace. “And even if it
were,
you wouldn't have any clue what was necessary. In case you hadn't noticed, Heather is
dying
in there, so I'd cut the whole I-can-take-care-of-myself routine. When it comes to my uncle, no one can take care of a goddamn thing.”

“I know that. I'm just trying to say that you are not responsible for everything that happens to everybody—”

“Yes, I
am,
Ed.” She halted suddenly, turning just to assault Ed with those warrior eyes. “I
am
responsible. I am responsible for all of this. All of it.”

Her guilty eyes left Ed momentarily speechless. He wasn't even sure why. It could have been the anger, or the beauty, or just one empathic moment of feeling how heavy a burden she'd been carrying all this time. Whatever it was, it made his heart hurt for a moment. And Gaia used that moment to take off at an even brisker stomping speed.

Ed quickly shook off his freeze-up and chased her down. He had to be quick because they had finally come upon a hallway with an exit on either end, and he knew that she would take whichever route he didn't. And then he'd lose the moment. And then he would have to try to create another moment, and with Gaia's unparalleled avoidance skills, that moment might not present itself for another five years.

Don't listen to her, Ed. That's the trick. And for God's sake, don't listen to yourself, either. Just do what's real. This thing she's doing, this is all smoke and mirrors. Just cut to the real part. Cut to the truth. And do it now, you idiot. She's three steps from good-bye.

“I'll talk to you later, okay?” Gaia's back was already to Ed as she turned the corner toward the exit.

“Gaia,
wait.
” Ed reached out and grasped her arm. The sudden shift in momentum spun her back toward him before she could pull away. For one sweet moment their faces were only an inch apart, but Gaia quickly regained her balance and took a step back. Though she didn't yank her arm from his grip.

“What?” she asked impatiently.

“J-Just…,”Ed stammered. It wasn't as if he'd prepared his remarks here. “Just let me…”

Gaia began to pull her arm away. Her eyes were darting around to all sides again, scanning the halls suspiciously, like some cyborg scanning for the enemy. “Ed, I'm going home, and I want you to go home, okay? Get off me and go
home.
”

“No, I need to…” Again he had nothing. No more words.
Three seconds, Ed. Three more seconds of this wimpy crap and she's gone.
How was he supposed to talk to her when she kept shifting her watchful eyes in all directions, like some paranoid soldier?

“Ed, let go, okay? Just let go.” She pulled her arm away.

“This is ridiculous!” Ed blurted. “I can't talk to you like this.” He turned behind him and saw the door to a janitor's closet.
Fine. Good. No more hesitation. Go.

He clasped her hand tightly and tugged. “In here. They can't
see
us in here
.
”He threw open the door and pulled Gaia into the cramped quarters of the janitor's closet, moving so swiftly that Gaia couldn't resist. Or maybe, just
maybe,
some part of her didn't want to resist. Whatever the reason, and however loudly she huffed with frustration and dismay, she stepped in after him. And before she could possibly change her mind, Ed slammed the door behind her, stepping so close to her that she was forced to push her back against the door just to keep her distance from him.

But there was no room for distance. However much Gaia might have wished for it, distance was no longer an option. There was, in fact, so little room to stand that Ed was forced to lean his hands against the door on either side of her face, holding his arms extended just to keep from falling against her. And now Ed was sure that there was such a thing as fate. Because fate had put a six-by-six janitor's closet between the last hallway and the last exit on this floor. Fate had placed them in the right proximity for an honest conversation.

Finally they were close. Close like they were supposed to be. Close enough to hear each other breathing in the sudden quiet. Close enough to push their overly active brains out of the equation.

There was the faintest bit of dim yellow light coming from a dying bulb in a gray metal casing on the ceiling. Just enough light to bring the cluttered steel shelves surrounding them out of the shadow. Just enough light to see the mop and two rolling buckets on the floor that left them nowhere else to step. And just enough light to trace her eyes and her nose and the perfect outline of her mouth.

“Ed,” she complained. Her voice sounded tight and strained. She kept her arms glued against the door.

“Shhh.” Ed placed his finger against his lips. “If you're that worried about them seeing us, I know you don't want them to hear us, either.”

“I don't know what you're talking about,” she whispered harshly. “Ed, I can't stay in here.”

“Gaia, can we just tell the truth in here? Let's stick with the truth.”

“What the hell are you talking about? Who's lying?”

“God, I can't believe this. I can't believe
you're
the one who's scared here. Does that make any sense? That makes no sense. If your uncle's coming after everyone you know, shouldn't
I
be the one freaking out right now? But I'm not, Gaia. I'm not scared of him. Jesus, the psycho has already tried to blow holes in my head, and I'm still not scared. And I have
no
idea why I'm not scared, but honestly, right now I'm much more freaked out by the fact that you are.”

“I am
not
scared,” she insisted, raising her volume above a whisper as she pummeled him with her eyes. “I just don't want to be cramped in a freaking janitor's closet with you. Fear's got nothing to do with it. I already told you, we can't be this close. I don't want to be this close to you—”

“Gaia, stop it,” Ed whispered, leaning his face even closer just to shut her up. “You don't need to do this anymore. You don't need to lie to protect me. I
know.
”

“Know
what?
” Gaia scoffed.

“I
know.
I know what I heard in there. I know what I saw. I know what your uncle is capable of. I know what he's trying to do. I know he tried to kill me once and he'll probably try again. But more important than that, I know what I saw when you looked at me in that room.

“This is all a load of crap you're giving me—this attitude, this avoiding-me-like-the-plague thing, it's a lie. And it started the moment you saw me get shot at. You don't hate my guts. What we did together wasn't a
mistake.
You love me, Gaia. You love me just as much as I love you. So why don't you stop going for the Oscar here and admit it so I can stop leaning against this goddamned door and touch you.”

Gaia huffed out a loud, disgusted grunt and crossed her arms firmly. “You presumptuous freak!”

“Shhhhh,” Ed warned.

“You presumptuous freak,” she whispered. “You don't know what you're talking about. I'm…I'm sorry to interfere with your delusions, but…but this has
nothing
to do with my uncle. I just can't be with you like that, okay?”

“Gaia, you're not hearing me. I know you're lying. Don't ask me why I'm so sure—I just am. I know you still love me. And I know what you're trying to do, but I'm telling you, it's a mistake.”

“Please, just—,” Gaia started.

But Ed wouldn't let her speak. “No one is safe
either way,
don't you get it? It doesn't matter if he sees us together or not. Look at Heather. Either he gets us or he doesn't. That's true whether you and I are together or not. And if you keep pulling this crap with me, then we're going to end up without a stitch of happiness in this whole scenario.”

“Ed—”

“Gaia,”
he snapped. “Listen to me now. I'm going to let my hands go from this door. I'm going to wrap them around your waist, and I am going to kiss you.”

“Ed, goddammit, please just listen—”

“
No.
Listening to you is what messed us up in the first place. We should be holding each other and touching each other and kissing each other. Do you know how many days of the best kissing and touching we've missed here? The
beginning-of-a-relationship
kissing? I mean,
Jesus. No one
has the right to steal that from us. No one.”

Ed took a deep breath, swallowed hard, dropped his hands from the door, and wrapped them around Gaia's waist. By now his eyes had adjusted to the dim light, and he was beginning to be able to see Gaia's eyes completely. He could see that at least they were no longer darting from side to side with worry but simply fixed on his.

“Gaia, please,” he said quietly. “I don't want to play anymore. I'm all out of psychotic. You have to let me know now. 'Cause the real truth…I don't know what the hell I'm talking about here. Maybe you really do hate my guts, and your stalker ex-boyfriend just trapped you in a closet for two minutes, and you'll need years of extensive therapy to recover. If that's true, then I am
so
sorry. But if that's not true…if your entire body is buzzing from being next to me in this closet the way mine is buzzing from finally being this close to you again…then please, please tell me the truth. We can go back out there right now and face all those freaking horrors and death traps alone, or we can stay in here for a few more minutes and…I don't know…just…be together. So just tell me the truth now and I will never ask you again. Do you want to be together? Do you want—”