Trickskin

by Amelia R. Moore

  A knock came at the door some time later, and although he recognized Danika’s voice on the other side, he pulled the covers over his head and ignored her. When she came barging in anyway, he recast the translation spell for English (he’d let it lapse while he slept, hoping it would help him refuel faster) but remained where he was.

  “Loken? Either you’re getting up or I’m getting in. Your call.”

  Neither option was preferable. He wanted to be left alone.

  The covers were tugged off without hesitation. Were he not feeling so listless, he may have glared at her.

  “Oh,” Danika said. “Was not expecting that.” Then, to Loken’s alarm, she climbed into bed with him anyway, contently settling in on his left side. “So, is your magic feeling better?”

  He made a noncommittal sound. Was she seriously just going to lie beside him as if nothing had changed?

  “Cool. Well, we’ve got eight months to make up for in terms of your pop culture education.” She held up the tablet. “Ta-da! Avatar: The Last Airbender! I’m in love with The Legend of Korra, but this is where it all started. You’re gonna love Uncle Iroh. He’s my spirit animal.” She gave him a look, as if spirit animals were serious business. “Okay, ready?”

  The way her voice trembled slightly at the mention of the months he’d been missing melted his resolve. As much as he wanted to be alone, he let Danika lay her head on his shoulder and press play. At the end of the fourth episode, he closed his eyes to rest them, and when he awoke, he realized two things at once. Firstly, Nora was staring down at them, and secondly, Danika was snoring softly, head on his chest.

  “It’s almost dinner time,” Nora said softly. “I thought you might want a chance to clean up.”

  The idea of facing the others sent a rush of anxiety through him. “Oh? Not afraid I’ll make another attempt on my life?” Loken regretted the words the moment he said them because the small smile on Nora’s face vanished.

  “I think you’ll be hard pressed to find a sharp object anywhere on the estate,” Nora said. Something about her satisfied smile suggested that she had something to do with that. “So, clean up or don’t. Your call.”

  She’d called his bluff, knowing he preferred to be clean. With a scowl, he slipped from the bed with effort, leaving Danika to slumber, and Nora helped him to the bathroom. Thankfully, he didn’t have to face the others to get to it, as it was connected to his (prison) room. Loken simply hadn’t noticed its existence due to the angle his bed had been facing.

  Dragging the IV pole along was a hassle, but Nora had protested when he tried to rip it out. As he sat on the edge of the tub, she retrieved a wash rag from the closet and set out towels on the counter.

  “Here. I'm afraid it'll be a washcloth bath today since you shouldn't get the IV wet.”

  A soak would have been bliss. “Alternatively, we could take it out.”

  Nora looked contemplative and then, in a mock-ponderous tone, asked, “Hey, how's your jaw and arms feeling?”

  He narrowed his eyes at her, aware of the point she was trying to make. “A valid argument.”

  Her anger wasn’t unexpected, but it was difficult to navigate while still dealing with the turbulence caused by his own emotional state.

  “Who did you think helped tailor the meds to you?” Nora asked hotly. “Granted, I’d originally based it on your Evoir physiology but...”

  He hadn’t expected that. He’d known she was a biochemist but not that she’d been working on his case for ALPHA.

  Nora bit her lip, looking far away. “That garbage they darted you with to capture you? It wasn’t calibrated to your species at all, and to top it off, they used too much. I must have screamed at Callum for ten minutes before his boss came into the room and said, ‘If you’re so worried about our tactics, work with us. You’ll have complete access to all of our resources and the extraterrestrial.’”

  The extraterrestrial. Like a prized possession.

  Nora appeared as irate as he felt, but he wasn’t terribly surprised by the revelation. ALPHA was pragmatic. Logically, they would have been looking for ways to control him in case negotiation didn’t work. And Loken wasn’t foolish enough to believe they’d stopped just because he’d agreed to their terms.

  “I was scared,” Nora said, not looking at him and wiping at her eyes. “Not for what they could do to me. I've had men trying to get in the way of my career since I started graduate school. I'm used to it. But I was scared for you.”

  The pain in her voice convinced him more than words ever could. At the time, he hadn’t considered how she might be affected by the situation. He’d only been concerned for himself, paranoid and irrational. Back then, Loken couldn’t fathom why she wouldn’t have sold him out. After all, she’d only known him for two short months. That had hardly seemed adequate for forming a meaningful relationship, but he now saw differently.

  “I never did apologize,” he said at last, searching for the right thing to say.

  That apparently wasn’t it because her eyebrows hit the ceiling. “Why would I need an apology? Oh, you mean for accusing me of selling you to ALPHA for a job? Is that what you're referring to? Or maybe you're apologizing for decorating Nolan’s bathroom with your blood?” Nora closed her eyes and took a breath. “I'm really struggling to follow Dr. Partridge’s advice here, so why don't we save this chat for later?”

  Loken tried to swallow his anger at the idea that they’d sought counsel on how to talk to him. “I don't need a mindhealer dictating how we communicate, and to be clear, I’m apologizing for the first.” He wasn’t sorry he’d tried to commit suicide (though he was sorry for the consequences), and he wouldn’t pretend he was.

  He saw Nora bite back her instinctual response before saying, “I accept your apology for accusing me of betraying you to ALPHA, and before you start, everyone here is risking their careers to help you. So don't throw accusations at them either.”

  Though he wouldn't be able to completely silence his paranoia on the matter, he was inclined to believe that the majority of them weren’t about to hand him over to ALPHA if they hadn’t yet done so. “And I suppose they’re all doing it out of the goodness of their hearts?” That was Loken’s biggest problem; he didn’t understand their motivations.

  “Here’s a revelation; they care about you.”

  He scoffed. “Sentimental fools.”

  The exasperated look Nora gave the ceiling needed no words. “Right. Anyway, I'll grab you some clothes while you wash up. Oh, damn. A bra too, I guess? Hopefully, you'll fit one of mine. Unless you plan to change again...?”

  As amusing as her sudden uncertainty was, Loken took pity upon her. “This form will do,” he replied, disinclined to share why he was in it. “After all, it's no less true than the guise you've come to know.” They were both equally lies, weren't they? Or were they, he mused, equally true?

  Nora rolled her eyes. “Call me when you're done. I’ll see what we can rummage up.”

  “Wait, I—” As much as he desired to be alone, he didn't want to be alone. The contradicting needs were infuriating, so he took a breath to clear his mind. It didn’t work. “Aid would not be unwelcomed,” he eventually managed to grit out.

  “No need to beg,” she said dryly. “Need help undressing?”

  He grunted affirmatively and tried to relax as she helped him slip out of his clothes. Fortunately, they were designed to come off easily (some sort of attire made for patients), and next she unwrapped his arms, peeling off the gauze on his forearm but leaving his wrists covered. Though the wounds looked slightly better than the last time he’d seen them, they were still healing. The thread holding his flesh together was rather disgusting, so he focused on Nora.

  She was scrutinizing his arms with obvious concern. “Might as well get Jeremy in here.” After sending him a quick text, she instructed Loken to take a seat on the chair in the tub and proceeded to help him wash up. It felt heavenly to be back in an Evoir skin, for sensations to feel famil
iar once more. He no longer felt too warm, and the lights no longer offended his eyes. Everything had looked sharper in his Drakain form, but readjusting was easy.

  He nearly hummed in contentment as she helped him wash his hair.

  “Heaven help me. What I wouldn’t give for hair like this…” Nora muttered.

  Loken laughed once at that...and realized he couldn’t remember the last time he’d done so.

  Thankfully, Nora didn't comment. “Would it kill you to choose an average-looking form?”

  “Mmm. It would, in fact. My vanity wouldn't survive it.”

  She laughed, and Loken was reminded of simpler times, of days he'd spent hovering at her side and picking apart Earthen customs, much to her amusement.

  Everything was different now, and he was having trouble deciding if that was necessarily bad. The Evoir didn’t like different. As long-lived as they were, change did not come quickly. Rellaeria was stagnant, but did he have to be? He'd adapted to the humans well enough. It was the baggage from Rellaeria holding him back.

  (Don't lie. Your heritage is at fault and no one else.)

  When Jeremy knocked on the door, Loken welcomed the distraction. “Come in,” he called while Nora helped him dry his hair.

  Confusion and alarm twisted Jeremy’s features when he saw Loken. Even as he seemingly registered who the naked woman was, he automatically averted his eyes. “I, uh. Nora, can you get him—her! Uh, Loken. Get Loken a towel.”

  Loken grinned unabashed at the healer’s embarrassment. Ah, how he lived for reactions like these. He batted his eyes as Nora handed him a towel. “Why, Jeremy, I had no idea you were a prude.”

  “Ha ha. Just cover up. Thanks,” he added when Loken did so. “What can I do for you? Or was giving me a heart attack it?”

  “I believe I might be pregnant,” Loken deadpanned.

  Jeremy looked like he couldn’t decide if Loken was serious or not.

  “Ew,” Danika commented as she slipped into the bathroom. She jabbed her thumb towards the doorway. “Do you realize that means one of them is the father? That’s just sad.”

  “Hey,” Nora barked, faux-scolding her. “That’s not fair.” She paused. “Patrick Amaral is a perfect gentleman.”

  “Being a gentleman doesn’t pay child support. I’ll take Ian Nolan please.”

  Nora mock gasped. “That’s shallow...and true.”

  Jeremy shook his head. “Ladies—” He looked startled as his gaze swept over Loken, perhaps wondering if he’d unintentionally given offense. “So, what can I help you with?”

  When Loken shrugged, Nora said, “I wanted to see what the plan is for the IV, and get your opinion on the stitches.”

  She helped him move to the edge of the tub as Jeremy came closer and held out his hand. Loken bristled but gave his arm to the healer to examine.

  “They’re healing faster now,” Jeremy noted. “We can probably remove the stitches sooner than I anticipated.”

  “Remove?” Loken echoed, looking horrified.

  Everyone ignored him.

  “How’s your pain level?” Jeremy asked.

  Still quite ruffled by the implication that the thread in his flesh had to be removed, he said, “Negligible.”

  “We can unhook you, if you want, but we don’t have this medication in any other form. And from what I understand, you didn’t take well to the idea of injections.”

  An understatement but an acceptable one. Still, he couldn’t imagine being connected to the IV set while dining. “If you would be so kind, I'd prefer it be removed for now.”

  Loken wasn't squeamish, but he looked away while Jeremy unhooked it, just in case the sight of a needle (if there was one) would induce another panic attack. He truly didn't need another, lest they lock him in the room with Harvey again.

  “It's not hard to reconnect, so let me know if you need it,” Jeremy said when he was done. Only when Loken nodded, did he add, “Dinner's almost ready,” before excusing himself.

  “Ready for this?” Nora asked once they were alone.

  Loken scowled. “I thought you’d at least pretend this wasn’t going to be awful.”

  “Oh, it’s going to be awful,” Danika assured him.

  “Here,” Nora said, holding out a comb to her. “I need to look for acceptable clothes.”

  “I can donate to the cause! Loken likes my dresses!” Danika called after her as she left.

  “That was one time!” Loken protested at the door, embarrassed and unable to say why. Being nude in front of Jeremy hadn’t bothered him, but he felt self-conscious with Danika. He clutched his towel and refused to dwell on why.

  Danika ignored him and ran the comb through his hair.

  He accepted the peace offering and closed his eyes, determined to enjoy the pampering.

  “How do you feel about braids?” Danika asked as she worked the comb through his hair

  Eyes still closed in contentedness, Loki made a noncommittal sound. “I’ve had it braided before.” By his mother. Danika’s hands, however, were not his mother's, and when she went to start, he debated telling her to stop. He didn’t have a problem with getting his hair done—as either gender—but it was a new experience having Danika do it. As soon as her fingers began working his scalp, however, he surrendered to the sensation.

  “I usually do French,” she commented. “But I wanna try something more...regal.”

  He let her work in silence. Though he usually meticulously crafted his appearance, today he would have to rely on their help.

  Danika was still braiding when Nora returned with an armful of clothing. She didn’t bat an eye at the scene and began to show them tops one by one: several blouses (emerald, navy blue, and indigo) and a few v-neck shirts with nature-themed designs. His preference had always run towards green, but he couldn’t get the image of emerald scales from his mind. When he settled on indigo, Danika made an appreciative sound and continued braiding.

  “You almost done? You need to try on these bras and pants.”

  “Pants?” Danika scoffed. “That shirt screams for a skirt.”

  Nora gave her a skeptical look. “I know you didn’t bring a skirt here in the middle of winter.”

  Winter. He truly had been missing for eight months. Was it better or worse than he could hardly remember it? Panic tried to drown him, so he forced out the first question that came to mind. “Has your winter festival passed?”

  “Christmas? No.” Nora frowned. “It’s…”

  “Eight days away!” Danika chimed in. “So, we have to cram in a dozen traditions into a week. Also, finished. Ta-da!” Without prompt, she held out an arm to help him stand.

  Still clutching the towel to his chest, he let Danika lead him to the mirror and marveled at her creation. While the majority of his ebony hair was left loose, a crown of braids framed his head.

  “Like it?” Danika’s tone told him she already knew the answer.

  Loken traced the right side of the braid, delighted by the design. “It’ll do.”

  Grinning, Danika said, “Let me go see what I have to go with that top,” and hurried out of the bathroom.

  Taking advantage of her absence, Loken tried on the bras and settled for the more comfortable of the two. It was still quite flattering, and although that wasn’t a primary concern of his, it was thoroughly satisfying. By the time he pulled on the top, Danika had returned.

  “So, when I came here, I just grabbed an armful of clothes and stuffed them into the suitcase, and look what I found!” She held out a long, flowing skirt that was predominantly similar in color to the shirt...save for the gold feathers reaching upwards from the seam.

  It wasn’t his usual style, but he wasn’t feeling much like who he used to be. Maybe new was good, he mused as he reviewed his appearance in the mirror. Thankfully, the long-sleeves concealed his arms.

  Loken dreaded the night to come. He wouldn't feign regret for choosing death, and that was likely to lead to a heated discussion. Not to mention th
e anxiety and dread over revisiting his past.

  “One more thing.” Danika reached into her pocket and held up a necklace for his inspection. “So, I bought this a while ago…”

  It was a simple golden owl charm dangling on a similarly colored chain, its wings spread and talons raised.

  “Like it?”

  In fact, he did, and it amused him to see she'd recalled the first avian form he'd taken in front of her. “It’s hideous,” he said, accepting the necklace. “I'll have to wear it so I don't have to look at it.”

  Her expression brightened when she realized he was teasing, and she helped him with the clasp.

  The vindictive voice in his head wondered what his father would think of his current drab. Earthen though it might be, there was no denying it was feminine by Rellaerian standards, though ladies of the court tended towards dresses. Skirts, he imagined, would startle them.

  How delightful that would be.

  He’d always skirted the line between trying to fit Rellaeria’s standards and being himself. Then, it became evidently clear that being himself would earn him no favor.

  “You know. This is the twenty-first century. Women can wear pants,” Nora commented as Loken stared into the mirror.

  “Hey. Women can be smart and sexy,” Danika retorted. Then, realizing what she'd implied, flushed and quickly added, “Like you.”

  Nora looked unimpressed. “Mhm. Sure. So, are you two done looking in the mirror? Because there's a high chance they're won't be any dinner left at this rate.”

  Loken tossed his hair back, enjoying the familiar banter. “Perfect isn't easy,” he said, head held high.

  “I see someone remembers Oliver and Company.” Danika grinned, looking proud.

  When he was done pretending to admire his appearance, he let them help him to the common floor. The elevator doors opened, and Loken was suddenly immersed in familiar scents (baking bread and simmering red sauce), buzzing conversations, and familiar voices. He stepped into the warm atmosphere uneasily. If he ignored the temporary IV port in his hand and the bandages concealed by his blouse, he could almost pretend nothing had changed.