Glazier

by Bri Clark

  Sampson walked to the other side of the bed and felt for her pulse. As he met my eyes, I felt his excitement before it reached his lips.

  “Henry,” her cracking voice called. I couldn’t decide if I was relieved she was awake or horrified at how pitiful she sounded. Nevertheless, my name upon her lips was as comforting as a lullaby.

  “Yes, Marie. I’m right here,” I whispered. Her fragility was prevalent, and I continued to hold her hand and move in closer.

  “Marie,” I called to her. When she closed her eyes again, thoughts of reliving the last few weeks terrified me.

  “Marie!” I yelled louder than necessary. Fear wasn’t an emotion I had experience with, and being out of control was something I’d never conceived. With her in my life, I unwillingly became old chums with them over night. Caring for another person was a luxury I’d never had, much less pursued. Marie changed everything.

  “Oh no, not again.” She gasped as her hands knotted in her hospital gown. Breathing shallow and rapid, her eyes darted back and forth. I was a seasoned soldier, an elite spy, at times even a force of nature, yet having all that accredited to me, I’d never felt more helpless than at that moment.

  “I’m having another heart attack! It’s the pressure.” She panted. Feeling her terror as if it were my own, and knowing her panic almost brought me to my knees.

  “What?” Dr. Sampson and I exclaimed in unison.

  Closing her eyes, she began to inhale and exhale methodically. Backing away all I could do was watch helpless.

  “The heart attacks,” she said again. Sharing a wide-eyed look with Sampson, I hoped she was wrong.

  “You know why I was passing out? I was having a heart attack. Right?”

  “Why would you think you were having a heart attack?” Dr. Sampson asked.

  “From all the pressure in my chest,” she answered as her pale, slender fingers settled over her heart. “It starts out small, then without warning, it’s like a giant weight is sitting on me preventing me from breathing. Next thing I know, I pass out.”

  While Sampson examined her and made notes, I considered a different alternative than merely health for her afflictions. His theory for the reason she arrived in an unconscious state was due to some awful tragedy she experienced. Then Glazier, as a defense mechanism, had shut her body and mind down. It would make sense. Glazier was all instinct and no logic. She was harder to control than any addiction. Saturating the blood with an icy, enticing mist that quickly controlled …resistance was no easy feat.

  While there were benefits to possessing the power, the speed, strength, perception, and memory, it was like having a villain and a hero trapped in the same body. If Marie didn’t know she had Glazier, she wouldn’t know how to control her. Abram didn’t know or wouldn’t say what the tragedy could have been. However, it still didn’t explain the pressure she was talking about now.

  “Marie, you haven’t had a heart attack,” Dr. Sampson tried to convince her, holding an echocardiogram for her to see. Narrowed brows and a stubborn chin were his response as if she dared him to contradict her. She was a contradiction in herself. Seemingly on death’s door moments ago and now arguing with one of the world’s most brilliant physicians. Of course, she didn’t know that, but I couldn’t help considering the knowledge wouldn’t have changed her attitude.

  “Then why am I passing out? I mean, it’s been twice in one day. That has to be odd,” she offered.

  The floor beneath me shifted and my pulse reached heights I’d never dreamed it could. She was completely unaware that she had been in and out of consciousness for weeks. An internal conflict for control began as my days of learning to control Glazier surfaced in my memory.

  The longing to touch her again teased my fingertips, so I took her hand in my own. My internal battle became harder when I noticed her concentrated breathing.

  “Is it back?” I asked.

  She continued to pant, then looked up and nodded her head yes. It was in that moment when my own eyes glistened back up at me from her fragile face that I realized I was the source of her suffering. On instinct, I created as much distance between us, at the highest rate of speed possible. Glazier speed.

  Her reaction wasn’t what I’d hoped…gaping, sitting up too quickly, then falling back with her eyes closed was the opposite of what I’d wanted. Sampson assumed his usual position beside her.

  “Is she out again?” I asked from my perch beside the door. Although aching to hold her hand again, I nonetheless knew I shouldn’t dare approach her until I had Glazier up and under control.

  “No. I think she was just dizzy. That wasn’t entirely necessary you know.” He scolded me, looking up over his black-rimmed spectacles.

  “Maybe not the speed.” I replied as I moved forward at a normal pace. “She thinks she‘s been out for a day.” The sound of my voice betrayed my concern.

  “Like he said, I’m not out, nor am I deaf.” Marie announced with her eyes still closed.

  I couldn’t suppress a chuckle. She appeared so slight, yet within her was a truly strong will.

  “Yes, Henry, how rude of you,” Sampson added, grinning.

  “My apologies, Marie. How about you tell me how you feel now?” I asked, unable to suppress my own mirth.

  “I feel better. No more weight and the spinning is over,” she answered while she tried to pull herself up in the bed.

  Before I was aware of my own actions, her too-thin upper arms were engulfed within my hands, halting any further movement. Her eyes as wide and crystalline as my own stared deeply into mine. I hoped that it was shock and not fear I read in her expression. For the first time in my life, my strength was a curse. Aware I had to take great care with Marie, both physically and emotionally, I tried to contain myself.

  “What are you doing?”

  “I was trying to sit up because I’m thirsty,” she whispered.

  I lifted her into a seated position against the pillows and took note of how light she was. I poured her some water then sat on a stool beside her bed. Dr. Sampson had left, but promised he would be right back. Unable to look away, as usual I was in awe. She was sitting up, breathing, speaking, and alive. Seeing the strain of her shaking hand as she reached to set her cup down, I relieved her of it.

  “So you’re the one who pinned me down earlier?” She accused, arching one of her red brows.

  “You remember that?” I asked stunned.

  “Yes.”

  “What else do you remember?” I pressed, hoping she knew more about herself than before. I knew I wanted to know more about her.

  She pulled her knees up to her chest and wrapped her arms around them as if she was thinking. “I know you’re a captain but prefer to be addressed as Henry,” she began.

  I laughed. She smiled, and I was spellbound as the simple movement transformed her features into something soft and sweet.

  “I know that Dr. Sampson specializes in many fields. He works alone. And I’ve passed out at least twice, and it’s been longer than a day, apparently.” Her brow arched at the end of her speech, daring me to contradict her.

  “Is that all? You seem to remember your name,” I pointed out.

  Marie reached for her water again, and I finished the task for her.

  “That’s only because it’s what you and the doctor call me,” she answered as she sipped her water and studied me.

  Admiring the grace she exercised merely hugging her knees, amazement flowed through me. Even in this sickly state, she was a beauty. I had a reputable past with all kinds of women from the caramel complexion of the passionate Latina to the coal black hair of the exotic Geisha. Yet, as of today all of them were inferior to her copper tresses, porcelain skin, and eyes that burned like the sun upon the ice.

  “So other than the fact your eyes change color, you’re rather fast, and you’re strong, is there anything more I need to know about you, Captain Henry Tenison?” she asked. Astute, witty, and almost cocky, she reminded me of myself, only in a
much more attractive body.

  “You forgot freakishly large,” I added.

  She giggled. “And ghostly pale,” she replied, still jovial. “I was trying to exercise some manners.”

  I couldn’t remember a woman who ever made me laugh, and she had done it more than once already. A sudden and aggressive desire to know all about her consumed me. Did she get her wit from her father or her mother? Was she Irish or American? She had an American accent but carried the marks of an Irish heritage. That’s when my smile faded because I wouldn’t find out this information. She didn’t even know herself.

  “So you don’t remember a thing?” I asked again. “You don’t know how old you are, where you’re from, your favorite food….”

  Looking up and hugging her legs tighter she exhaled and shook her head no.

  “That isn’t good,” I stated.

  I detected Abram’s approach. Realizing that was what the doctor left to do, I took count of the kind of friend Sampson was. The last thing Abram had commanded was to contact him as soon as Marie awoke. It was unusual for me to forget an order. Ignore one, sure, but not forget. However, as my body tensed the further Abram came, I considered which one I had actually done.

  “Nonsense, Captain. She’s marvelous!” Abram exclaimed.

  Feeling the alarm shoot through Marie and explode within me, I fought the urge to pick her up and run far away. Her eyes met mine briefly before looking past and examining Abram. Wearing his signature dark navy blue suit with a silk, striped necktie and a black shirt, he would be considered by most, dashing. The man was known for his pride in his appearance, and I was sure the label on his suit would prove it was custom made.

  As his serpent’s stare looked Marie over, I felt a surge of possessiveness I couldn’t explain. He wasn’t my competition. He was an old man. But then again, maybe she had a family, a husband, even. Abram had said she didn’t. Nevertheless, Abram wasn’t a man who could be trusted. Marie became visibly uncomfortable and the possessiveness turned to an almost unquenchable need to protect.

  Abram approached, an arrogant smile in place and offered his hand. “Hello, my dear. I’m Abram.” Pulling herself closer to the opposite side of the bed as if she was trying to become as small as possible, she recoiled from his hand. Like a human trying to encourage a dog to sniff his hand, he moved closer. Glazier’s bone cold mist invaded my blood stream…a familiar feeling, I was able to control her force. Seeing the Glazier mist turning Marie’s eyes, that special texture similar only to a diamond, I was floored by the beauty and terrified of what it meant. Not wanting her to experience some sort of shock from the effect Abram obviously had on her, I interceded.

  Maneuvering between the bed and Abram, I searched for an explanation. “Sir…erh…she’s fragile right now. You’ll have to forgive her. She didn’t even shake my hand,” I added, trying to appease his ego.

  His usual smirk returned and he checked his watch. “All is well, Henry. You know what to do. I must be off.” He headed to the door with Sampson in step beside him.

  “Doctor, Henry is in charge. He’ll be overseeing everything pertaining to your patient,” he ordered.

  Deciding to follow them thinking maybe Marie needed some space, I turned away from her.

  “Henry,” she called with her hand extended. Without hesitation, I took her slender fingers in my own, my previous companions forgotten.

  “What is it, Marie?”

  “Stay,” she pleaded. I turned to see if they were waiting. Her grip increased and a current similar to what I imagine is the gravitational field erupted in my skin.

  “Please, Henry, stay,” she whispered. I eased down beside her once again and massaged her knuckles.

  “How long have I been out?” she asked in the near quiet.

  “You were unconscious when you arrived. You stayed that way for a few weeks before you woke up the first time.” I answered as simply as possible. She was quiet, looking at the ceiling and chewing her lip.

  “And the second?”

  “Weeks.” Again I answered vaguely.

  She shook her head.

  “And you stayed with me all that time?” she asked, as if surprised.

  I couldn’t seem to answer her, even as simple as nod would be. Certain now wasn’t the time to say I possessed some kind of instant, and perhaps sadistic, need to be with her, I struggled again for an answer. I immediately regretted my hesitation, for she tried to sit up.

  “I know you’ve been here a while at least,” she accused, her right brow arching in defiance.

  “And how is that?” I questioned.

  She let go of my hand and rubbed the scruff on my cheek. Thankfully the abundance of hair hid the trail of goose bumps her touch left. I laughed and she joined me.

  “All right, you caught me. I’ve been here a while,” I answered.

  The silence continued again and my cheek tingled. Falling back against the pillows she interlocked her fingers resting them on her too thin stomach.

  “Why?” she asked.

  “Why, what?” I responded.

  Rolling her eyes she propped herself up on her forearms. “Why did you stay? Are we friends?” she asked.

  Once again, I couldn’t answer the simplest of questions.

  “Are we more?” she pressed, and I almost lied. It would have been so easy, and perhaps in another time I would have. But not today. Not with her.

  “I’m sort of your guardian.” I tried to evade instead.

  “Hmmm.” To my astonishment, she didn’t press the subject. “How did I end up here?”

  “I don’t know. Abram found you and brought you. He hasn’t shared anything with me other than that.” I answered without hesitation. That was an easy one.

  “So Abram is your superior.”

  Feeling the scowl coming on, I corrected her assumption. “He is not my superior. However, he is my boss.”

  “I don’t like him…he scares me,” she admitted.

  Her ease at sharing that with me caused the corners of my mouth to lift.

  “I already knew that much.”

  “Am I that obvious?”

  “Only to me,” I teased, then scolded myself for the way I talked to her. It was too easy to forget orders. Abram had said to wait to tell her about Glazier.

  “What makes you so special?” she inquired. Astute as ever, she picked up on my tease. Not wanting to lie, I chose evasion instead and walked over to a cabinet.

  “Are you cold?” I reached for a blanket on the top shelf.

  “No, Captain. I’m fine.” She said captain like it was acid on her tongue. Then to prove she wasn’t cold, she withdrew her blankets giving me ample view of flawless, slender calves.

  Trying to concentrate on refolding the blanket instead of her, I turned away.

  “Like I said, I would prefer it if you’d call me Henry.”

  “Captain, I’m not well. You’re stronger than I am, and I have some sort of amnesia. I also know…”

  “What? What, Marie? What do you think you know?” My gut seethed with irritation as I looked for one of my uniform shirts.

  A change of scenery would lighten both our moods. Dr. Sampson said she could leave soon if she kept improving. Trying so hard to block her out, I didn’t notice her moving. When I turned, the scene before me played out like a silent movie. Those pale, slender calves buckled under the wait she pressed upon them and gravity was pulling her down to the cement floor. Dropping the shirt and moving at the speed no normal man could, I caught her. “Blimey, Marie! What were you thinking?”

  A distinct floral scent enticed me when I realized Marie is in my arms! She possessed a womanly softness despite her fragile frame. Her face and eyes were closed, and fear overtook me yet again.

  “Are you hurt? Did I hurt you when I caught you?” She opened her eyes and exhaled.

  “I’m fine. I’m sorry, Cap…er…Henry.” She corrected herself.

  With the care a mother showed a newborn babe, I deposited her o
n the bed.

  “What were you thinking?”

  “I was trying to go to the bathroom. I figured there had to be one close by.” Her face turned a pale pink.

  “Why didn’t you ask me? I would have helped you.”

  She took a deep breath and sighed. “Well, Henry, I didn’t know for sure if you would since you didn’t answer any of my other questions. Not to mention you seem angry. I just figured it would be better if I tried on my own.”