#mebwrites

So much has changed since then. Al moved back to the city. Zuri was in college now and everything about it was new and challenging and she grabbed it by the horns. New didn't scare her.

But the flag felt heavy now, a crushing weight of guilt. It was difficult to raise her arm and wave it through the air when it no longer felt right. When it no longer felt like clarity and comfort. The label that once fit snugly against her body had warped somehow. She never thought it could shrink and enlarge the way it did. That the collar could wrap around her throat and squeeze. That the sleeves could fall past her fingertips and graze the floor, leaving her fumbling to grasp onto something solid and stumbling with every step that she took.

She didn't think there would be more mountain to climb. The journey was supposed to be over, wasn't it?

But how could it be when she could still feel the flutters of attraction towards men? When she could still long for them the way she longs for women? When femininity and masculinity can exist in both and in neither, simultaneously and exclusively, and she could find herself loving any of it in any form? 

She could only allow herself to think that those feelings were forced for so long. The heart doesn't lie, and hers wanted to be with someone who goes weak-kneed at her attention and sends electricity down her spine. She wouldn't lose any sleep if she found that in a man.

And that terrified her.

Some people weren't as nice if you came out twice; some would see her as a living, breathing stereotype. Wayhaven's indifference towards sexuality wouldn't be enough to lift the guilt off of her shoulders.

She wasn't sure how she could go about doing this again. Another big announcement? Simply explaining herself if she found herself on the arm of a man? What if she went to pride in the city again? How was she supposed to see the same faces and let them see her covered in different colours? What would they think?

She frowned and lifted the flag, holding it out in front of her. Her vision blurred as her thumbs caressed the satin. What would Al think?

The door swung open. Zuri jolted, the tears collecting on her eyelids falling before she could stop them, rolling down her cheeks and to her ears as she held the flag tightly to her chest. She froze and dragged her gaze away from the ceiling to the door, letting out a small noise of confusion at who she saw.

Bobby Marks was leaning against the door frame, glancing at the bed on the other side of the room with a grin. It faltered at its vacancy before widening when his eyes landed on her. "Where's that gorgeous roommate of yours?"

She shifted, subtly wiping the tears away on the duvet while answering, "Riley?"

"That's her bed, isn't it?"

"With the amount of times her boyfriend crashes in here, it could be his."

"Boyfriend," he muttered with a frown. She winced, gathering up an apology for crushing whatever hopes he had with her before pausing at the sudden change in demeanor. His brow was raised, lips stretching into a smirk as he glanced at the bed again. "Those two are a couple of edgy rulebreakers, aren't they?"

Her eyes widened. That was an awfully chilly tone directed at someone he seemed to have some interest in. 

"You didn't think to tell on them?"

Zuri shook her head, putting her index and thumb together to make a zipping motion over her lips. He chuckled and stepped into the room, stopping when her gaze snapped to his feet. She barely knew him and it looked like he was gearing up to get cosy, as if she even allowed him in. He just walked in on her crying. God that's terrible, terrible timing-

He held his palms up, his smirk edging towards something more sheepish. "You're Zuri Jackson, right?"

She nodded with an affirmative hum.

"You don't seem as smiley as people say you are. Or talkative," he said with the slightest tilt of his head. "But you're gorgeous and good at keeping secrets, which makes you good in my books."

She hummed again, offering as charming a smile as she could muster at the compliment before turning her head and gazing out the window, her eyes following a group of her classmates strolling past the window.

"I'm heading out there soon, you should join me."

Zuri just barely held back a short laugh as she turned to him. Should.

"I could use the company," he continued, dragging his gaze down her body before returning it to her face, his smirk fading slightly as he lingered on her eyes. "And you look like you could use the distraction."

She laughed, hoping it sounded genuine enough, and sat up, staring at the flag for one last time. "You have no idea."

She looked up and inhaled sharply when she was met with an outstretched hand. She followed the length of his arm before stopping at his face (was that a smolder?), intrigue and amusement curling her features into a lopsided smile and a raised brow.

"I don't remember letting you in."

"I don't remember you protesting," he said, shooting her a charming grin. "And now I'm giving you the honor of being my date to this party."

Zuri laughed, shaking her head and taking his hand before pressing her own to her chest in faux enchantment. "Oh, what an incredible honor. I can hardly believe it. Truly, a sweet, charitable deed."

He smirked, pulling her to her feet and leaning towards her. "The deeds I plan to do with you are nowhere near sweet."

"Ha!" She ripped her hand away before walking past him. "Don't even think about it."

The boy was practically a stranger (a cocky yet weirdly charming stranger), but she'd rather hang out with him at a party than sit in her festering guilt. If she had it her way, she'd return too exhausted to think, pass out and wake up with everything solved. But there was still more mountain to climb, and she wasn't sure when she'd be ready to face it again.

Zuri barely registered the car wobbling as it drove over a bump, her thoughts consuming all of her attention until cool fingers slid on top of her own, the touch making her heart pound for completely different reasons.

She turned to look at the person beside her, their brows knitted together in concern. 

Their fingers laced between hers at her attention, something that would be soothing and grounding if it came from somebody else. "You okay?" 

"I," her voice hitched, her eyes darting down to their hands despite herself before locking onto the brown pair watching her. Her lips curled into a smile that she hoped didn't appear as strained as it felt. They practically creaked as the corners tilted up. "I'm always okay."

As okay as someone can be attending their first pride festival with their not-a-crush. Their gorgeous not-a-crush with tight, burgundy coils and golden-brown skin and ridiculously soft hands. Between the ball of nerves and the butterflies competing for space in her stomach, she was as okay as an impatient patient waiting for their diagnosis.

"Just okay?" They asked, returning her smile with one of their own. One she hoped was more genuine, for both their sakes. "We've been looking forward to this all week. How are you just okay?"

"I'm an enigma, Al."

"The biggest enigma there is," they chuckled. "But you're also quiet. Weirdly quiet. Is something wrong?"

"No. I'm just-" she paused, rolled the words around in her mind before starting again. There was nothing wrong. She didn't need to worry them. In fact, she should be thanking them. She wouldn't be half as okay as she was now if she was in the backseat of an agent's car. That never failed to ruin special occasions.

"This is my first pride, it's a little nerve-wracking," she exhaled through her nose, glancing down at their hands before continuing. "Thank you for letting me do this with you."

"Don't sweat it," they grinned, lifting their hand to swat at the air. She could just barely ignore how her hand and her chest grew cold at the loss of their touch.

"I can't wait for you to see what it's like. As much as Wayhaven has grown on me, I have a soft spot for pride in the city."

"Of course you do," Zuri giggled, their excitement putting her at ease and blanketing her racing thoughts. "That's your crowd. Your people. You're birds of the same feather."

"Your," they repeated, their grin fading slightly. "Pride isn't about location, even if you feel more comfortable in some places than others. But if you feel that you're part of the community, then those are your people too."

Zuri sighed and peeled herself off of the leather seat to sit up straighter. "I know. But what if..."

What if she was wrong? What if she convinced herself that this was a part of her? What if this is her desperately searching for community, for family, for a sense of belonging, in a space she didn't deserve to be in. She didn't face any real struggles. She didn't lose anything or face harsh treatment. She has only been out for a few months. Rebecca didn't even know yet. Doesn't that mean she isn't sure? What if these feeling weren't even real-

"Hey," cool fingers laced with hers once more, sending electricity up her arm once more. She couldn't tell if that was helpful or not (it should be, because if none of it was real, what was this?). 

"You don't have to be one hundred percent set on a label to be in the community," they said before gnawing on their bottom lip. "These pronouns, well, they're still new to me. Trying things can be the best part of the journey to getting there. And I think that should be celebrated too."

There was a hum in the front seat and a quiet tapping of fingers against the steering wheel. Al sighed, though their smile widened, before addressing their chauffeur. "Go ahead, Dad."

Zuri met his eyes in the rear view mirror, the corners crinkled as he smiled at her. "You can't be kicked out of the store for trying on a pair of shoes and deciding if you wanna buy them or not.

"He's real proud of that one."

"I thought it was a fine analogy," he chuckled, a low, rumbling sound. "But feel free to ignore the old man if it doesn't ease your conscience."

"You have no idea how much it did, thank you," Zuri laughed before turning to Al and squeezing their hand, her smile softening. "Both of you."

They grinned before sliding their hand away and staring ahead of them. "Save the sappiness for later and look outside!"

Zuri bit back a disappointed pout and purposefully avoided the knowing look Al's father gave her before glancing out the window. Against the clear blue sky and buildings in the background was a flurry of bright colours. Pinks and blues and purples. Rainbows. All dancing in the breeze as the wind and people flicked the flags back and forth, and the excitement in her gut rushed to the forefront and doused any doubts or fears lingering after the conversation. 

She leaned forward and gripped the back of the front seat, a light squeal escaping her as the cheers of people reached her ears, goosebumps raising on her skin. The anticipation alone made her feel as though she was on the edge of freedom.

He watched her, eager eyes hungrily drinking in the sight of her on top of him, hips rolling and undulating against his, brown skin covered in a light sheen of sweat, glistening as her muscles flexed beneath it.

She was beautiful like this (always, but this...), dark brown eyes as encompassing as the night sky dragging up and down his trembling body, a half lidded gaze so heady it gripped his soul. Plump lips parted, spilling soft sighs and moans and breathless praise as she moved against him in a slow grind. He could do nothing but hold on, hands shakily gripping her hips while he mindlessly bucked to meet them. One hand moved from its place on his chest, eliciting a gasp as her touch blazed a trail down his abdomen before landing on her clit.

His mouth fell open as she tightened around him, a strangled moan escaping her lips, piercing through him while her fingers brushed against it. He groaned, wordlessly saying her name as his hips rose up and slammed into hers. She was everywhere, flooding his senses and reducing his mind to a babbling mess of Zuri, Zuri, Zuri, and oh-

His name fell from her lips as a whimper, followed by a string of words in her mother tongue (Yene fikir, betam konjo), a desperate whine as she moved faster, faster, faster, yes, pushing him to the edge for the fifth time, everything inside him begging for her to let him fall again. 

He was never one to be speechless, but she had robbed him of his words, his breath, his sanity, and as he gasped for air he choked out, "Can I?"

Her hips stuttered, her heart beating frantically in his ears along with the angelic sound of her, tightening the coil in his abdomen. He let out a broken moan before biting his lip and tossing his head back, his vision blurring as she leaned down. Her pace quickened, the slap of skin on skin growing louder as she pressed her chest against him. A sound came out of his mouth. He wasn't sure what it was (it was loud and desperate and she loved it), too caught up in her, the heat of her skin, the rasp and need in her voice, her heartbeat, her body, her arousal dripping down his inner thighs. She mouthed at his neck, pressing wet kisses just below his ear before whimpering, "Yeah. Come for me, Nate."

He hadn’t seen her this happy in a long time. 

She had been a dulled version of herself, vibrant brown eyes and smiles muted by the constant threat of danger, muscles tensed despite herself, despite Unit Bravo’s presence. Vigilance birthed from fear, fear heightening vigilance and both reducing her light, as bright and warm as the sun, to flickering fluorescent. And it pained him, more than he was willing to admit. Sometimes, if he watched her long enough (for her protection, of course), he would see the slight tremble in her hands as she eyed the window, eyed the door, a faraway look as the gears churned in her head, a mental debate on whether she should flee or stay, and white hot anger would crash over him. He cannot let them destroy who she is.

But here, underneath the dimmed lights of the gallery, the sounds of voice and music harmonizing and bouncing off of the walls, she was beaming.

Zuri was clenching the banister, glossy lips curled into a wide smile as she recited the words being spoken, eyes sparkling with joy (she may as well be vibrating with joy; it poured out of her and splashed his skin, bathing him in warmth, seeping through the cracks in his walls and embracing him, curling around him, his heart full of her, full to burst-). 

It had been so long, too long, and to watch her excitement (as she bought the tickets, as he accepted her invitation to join her, as she leapt out of her room wearing a wine red slip dress and a grin that creased the corners of her eyes, in the car, in the steadily filling-up auditorium to now) was overwhelming and beautiful and had implications that scared him. 

Strings and brass swelled as she pressed a hand to her mouth, muffling a squeal as she watched on. He briefly wondered what it was that was making her so elated, but his eyes refused to leave the profile of her face. His eyebrows twitched as the other hand joined the one covering her lips, her raised cheeks and watery eyes the only sign that she was smiling.

God, he wanted to see it.

She shouldn’t hide that smile from him.

The music crescendos, and she turned to him, and he saw it.

She tilted her head and raised a brow. “Hmm?” 

He blinked, his heart seizing in his chest. She heard it.

He stayed silent, forcing a brow to raise as well, asking a silent question as if he had no clue why she was now facing him.

She smiled and her fingertips danced along her bottom lip. “My bad, I thought you said something.”

There was that curious glint in her eye as he shook his head, slowly dissolving into a softer gaze that coaxed pink to crawl up his neck and into his cheeks before his eyes finally cooperated and returned to the stage before them. 

But her’s did not (and he can’t help but smile).

-

She was knee-deep in her research on sirens, her nose buried between the slightly worn pages of a heavy tome, grumbling beneath her breath whenever one of her theories were debunked. Zuri spent a large amount of her childhood (and, if she's being honest, hour long phone calls with Tina and Lucille well into adulthood) speculating about the existence of supernaturals. The world, the solar system, the universe, all seemed too large for humans and animals to be the only beings that existed. There had to be something else, they had to be real, whether it came to be due to freak accidents in labs or evolution.

One could only imagine her delight when she was proven right (though she held in her squeals when the truth was revealed; they were living beings, not something to pick and prod at). Ever since then, she soaked up all she could find about them, tracing myths and legends back to the tomes with enthusiasm. Something Nate seemed to appreciate about her.

So there they were, sequestering themselves in the library and soaking in the contents of books that had lived longer than her, each one possessing glaring characteristics, words written by different hands and dog-eared by another.

She had grumbled twice more before Nate tore his eyes away from the book in his hands, glancing at her with a raised brow. "Is everything alright?"

With that, she whipped off her reading glasses, carefully setting the tome on the table in front of her, nodding at his grateful smile before launching into a rant, brows pinched together as she listed each inaccuracy on the internet with her fingers. He watched on, eyes wide and dancing with amusement.

And then the conversation took a different turn.

Seduction and sirens were two words that fell hand-in-hand in most discussions revolving around the sea creature, despite the falsity surrounding the subject (and his smile strained for a split second, as if he was pinched and forced to swallow a hiss. Her train of thought slowed, something sinister creeping out of the shadows of her mind because that wasn't good. That was her fault and she should lea-)

"Adam."

His name leapt out of her mouth with the eagerness of a kid learning to curse (getting to the point was a surefire way to get out of his hair swiftly). Nate's lips formed an oh before curling into the wisp of a teasing smile. He knew what she was going to ask.

"You know him better than anyone," she said, shifting on the velvet couch to drape her legs over the armrest, her muscles aching from sitting cross legged for so long. "How would one, hypothetically, go about uh - for lack of better words - seducing him."

His answer? Subtly. Gently, slowly and subtly.

Zuri pursed her lips. She thought she was well versed in the art of seduction; a wink, a smile, genuine compliments, a spritz of perfume and a blazing, brief touch, stimulating the five senses enough to leave her prospects wanting more. But that was easy to do when people loved the idea of you. Coaxing someone, drawing them out of the corner they pressed themselves against in fear, is not something she has had to do in her love life.

"Is that all you're willing to give me?" She asked, her lips purposefully trembling as she pouted. The puppy dog eyes had an eighty percent success rate, and previous occasions have shown that Nate is not immune.

And yet…

He perked up, his smile growing as he glanced back down at the book. "Perhaps we should see how well you do with the information you have."

"Please? I'm sure you have more spine-tingling advice tucked away in that beautiful brain of yours."

He chuckled and turned to the door just as it swung open.

Her heart seized in her chest, a pause in its steady rhythm.

He's here.

Adam stepped into the room, lips parted as if he was going to say something, words catching in his throat as their eyes met.

A smile crawled onto her face, and before she could stop herself, words escaped her lips in the form of a dreamy sigh. "Aren't you a sight for sore eyes."

Gently, slowly and subtly.

Shit.

She ducked her head and facepalmed, a resounding smack accompanied by the sound of Nate's stifled laughter.

------

It felt cold on her side of the table despite the warm atmosphere, her plate licked clean and yet she was so empty. Hollow. Every loving glance carved away at her heart, the gaping hole growing larger, blood staining her ribs as it seeped out of her.

She could see them. She could see her parents in them.

Verda was intelligent, reserved, so dedicated to his work (and yet here was, sitting at the dining table, chuckling and shaking his head as Cara toyed with her chicken nuggets). The resemblance to Rebecca was painful, scary even. Even though she knew that he would never abandon his children.

He'd never...not like she did.

Eric was charming, outgoing with optimism that rivaled her own, and was currently jabbing at her chest. A reminder of who she had lost, who she had to watch people put in the ground. His jacket hanging around her shoulders, the sleeves brushing against her knees, his scent the only source of comfort she had as rubbed her stinging eyes raw.

Rebecca didn't even show up to the funeral.

She probably didn't plan it either.

The only person who gave her a shoulder to cry on was a kid who dragged her away from the sullen atmosphere, coaxing her out of her hiding spot at the back of the church and taking her to the playground beside it. Then he left. And she never saw him again.

Rebecca didn't come back to the house for a month.

She remembered it being so dull and desolate, void of warmth despite the embrace of her nanny, despite her helping her understand, a constant guide as she grieved (in that month she became family, played the role of a mother so well that she found herself wishing to be from her womb, share her blood and genes).

She left too. Left to see her wife who had ended up in the hospital, the collision of cars leaving her bedridden. Zuri understood, of course she did. Asking her to stay would have been selfish (and maybe that was what had formed the lump in her throat, selfishness and envy, thick and sticky sludge coating her vocal chords).

But God was she tired of being left. Of being alone.

And then Rebecca came back with a new nanny. And she was…

Her jaw tensed as she crushed the thought, ground it to ashes, and yet it didn't stop her heart from pounding in her ears, her hands from shaking she needed to calm down needed to breath-

Dinners at Verda's could be the cruelest of stages, a warm and bright set that left her stomach in knots as scripted words fell from her lips in fragments, each one less convincing than the next. She needed to pull herself together until the curtain call. She needed to calm down needed to breath-

Two small arms wrapped around her torso. She blinked, not realizing when the room had gotten so blurry, and met the pair of wide eyes looking up at her. Cara's grip tightened, hands clutching at the material of her dress, a frown fixed on her face.

"Are you okay, Aunty Zee?"

She cleared her throat and stitched a smile onto her face, smoothing down the little girl's hair with a slightly trembling hand. "I'm more than okay."

"Are you sure? You didn't hear what I said."

"I'm sorry, kokebi. I get lost in my thoughts sometimes. Tell me again?"

Cara stared for a moment before smiling and repeating the story she presumably told a few minutes ago. Her arms stayed in their place, as if she could tell that she wasn't telling the entire truth and hoped to bring her some kind of comfort.

She ignored the pairs of eyes burning into her skin, their concern was sweet but she didn't need that. She would be okay, but it would take longer to get there if she ruined their evening. 

Sometimes it hurt to see people happy, but she'll be damned if she becomes the reason they hide it.

-

When Zuri read something that peaked her interest, her eyes sparkled. They would widen by a fraction before crinkling at the corners as a smile spread across her face. Her heartbeat would pick up, a jovial sound muffled by her teeth digging into her bottom lip, and if he looked up fast enough he would catch her curling into herself for mere seconds, as if trying to contain her delight.

The book in Nate's hands were abandoned, the words printed on the page failing to keep his attention away from her. They were in the library, initially sitting on separate ends of the couch (he had shifted from his end, body inching closer to hers as if being pulled by a magnet. That was one word to describe her: magnetic. The pull was far too strong to resist, and why would he want to? Especially when she glanced up at him and smirked, silently inviting him closer).

Her back was against the armrest, one foot on the floor while the other dug into the velvety material of the couch, the book pressed against her thigh as she read. It was poetry, he noted, briefly scanning the title before fixing his gaze on her face. She clutched the pages, lips parting into a silent 'oh', brows furrowing before settling into content once again.

Warmth sparked in his chest, as familiar and comforting as the galley fire he once huddled around in his days at sea (he frowned at the flood of images seeping into his mind, quickly blocking them out with thoughts of the woman beside him. He exhaled, his heart skipping at the warmth spreading to his limbs and gathering at his fingertips, aching to touch at yet another muffled squeal. It still surprised him, how easily she could raise his spirits just by being).

He watched her eyes travel across the page, soaking up the words in the earthy brown behind a pair of glasses. She had a hunger for knowledge, constantly feeding her mind along with her body, each word melting in her mouth and falling into her abysmal stomach. Curiosity never satiated. It was invigorating to be in such a presence, to lose themselves in tomes and find out who and why and how together (he had never found research to be boring, but without her, it grew dangerously close).

She glanced at him from above the frame of her glasses, a small smile tugging on her lips as her eyes drifted over him. It was reminiscent of their first meeting in the station, hands linked as she assessed him. He wondered if that assessment had changed, and he found his answer in her eyes. Hunger and desire blew her pupils, one brow raised, beckoning him closer.

He was now in front of her, his forearm arm resting on top of the couch, one hand clutching the armrest, almost caging her in his arms. And yet he was the one trapped, a shiver running down his spine as her gaze darkened, one leg coiling around his waist while the other shifted further away on the floor, parting for him.

"Hi," she said, the purr of her voice not matching the innocent smile on her face, as if she was oblivious to what she was doing to him. "See something you like?"

He swallowed, eyes dragging up the length of her body, loose fitting pants with a slit on each side exposing her calves, waist beads sitting just above them, and a bralette. He returned to her gaze, the teasing glint drawing him closer. "I do indeed."

"Likewise," she said, raising a hand to cup his cheek. Her palm was fire against his skin, and he leaned into it as if he had been living in the shivering cold. Her thumb grazed his bottom lip as she continued. "What should we do about that?"

"I have plenty of ideas."

He parted his lips and flicked his tongue against the tip of her thumb. Her leg tightened around his waist, and he couldn’t stop a smirk from creeping onto his face when she stiffened, her heartbeat quickening, thrumming loudly in his ears.

Her eyes fluttered shut, her leg leaving the floor to join the other before they opened again, a heady, half lidded gaze. Liquid heat through long lashes. Heat stirred in his abdomen, twitching beneath his jeans as she gave him what must've been the most tempting bedroom eyes he has ever seen. Her chest heaved with every panting breath, and a fleeting thought took the air out of his lungs.

He wanted her to devour him.

She pressed against his growing arousal, a surprised moan escaping his throat at she whispered.

"Show me."

He could surge forward, he thought. Crash against her lips and slide a hand underneath the flimsy pants, delve into her folds, watch her come undone on his fingers. The urge was there, a recurring thought growing louder in his mind, but it wasn't nearly as strong as his need to draw it out. To let the moment sit on his tongue, savor it.

He rested his forehead against hers, taking her hips in his hands and squeezing before stilling, hovering above her. She exhaled and bucked in his grip, eyebrows knitting together. Impatience wasn't something he was particularly fond of, but it was a good look on her. He chuckled and leaned forward, brushing his lips against hers and pulling away when she chased after him, pressing a kiss to her clavicle instead.

"Don't tease me," she whined, hands tangling into his hair and tugging, urging him to look at her. "I'm already so wet for you."

Christ.

“Better not keep her waiting, Natey.”

They jolted, a tangle of limbs fumbling to part. Their heads swiveled around to find Farah leaning against the doorframe, a cheshire cat grin taking up half of her face as she continued. “She might just flood the place.”

A twinge of frustration left his lips in the form of a quiet growl, smothered by the jingle of Zuri’s laughter. This hadn’t been the first time she walked in on them, and he was convinced that it wouldn’t be the last. It’s as if she perked up at the sound of their heartbeats and rushed over in hopes of finding entertainment.

She hadn’t moved much, legs loosely wrapped around him, giving him the option to put space between them if he wished (always making an effort to make others feel comfortable; an awkward moment is something one could never have with her there, even in situations like this).

“This is the third time, Farah!” she said, shoulders shaking with laughter. “I’m sorry, but I don’t think Nate likes to be watched.”

He raised a brow, his voice cracking slightly. “And you do?”

“Sure,” she shrugged (and his eyes widened, jaw falling open at her nonchalance) before staring pointedly at Farah. “But not when it spoils the fun.”

“Believe me, I’m the last person who would wanna stop you from getting some,” she responded with a wink. “But Rebecca’s calling for you. You haven’t been answering your phone. You’re obviously busy.”

Nate groaned, giving her a withering look before sitting back against the couch. Zuri exhaled through her nose, her top lip curling into a snarl for mere moments (and he hoped that was because she had to leave rather than having to see her mother, her mother, her mother. A sharp pang struck his chest) before easing into a smile.

“I’ll be right there,” she said, leaping from her seat, her book flying and landing on the floor with a thud. He winced and bent down to place it on the table as she walked past him. She was usually more careful than that. He watched her stride to the door, eyebrows furrowing at the stiffness in her walk.

Just as she turned to close the door behind her and follow Farah down the hall, she paused. She glanced back at him, tension seeping out of her body as he gave a reassuring smile.