"There's no shame in crying. I promise."
"You're in shock," Rachel says smoothly. "Go and wash up. The bathroom is down the hall, first door on the right."
MK looks down at her hands. Red. They are shaking so violently she feels it rock through her entire body.
"Go," Rachel insists, "before you stain the carpet."
Something in her tone shakes her from her stupor and she nods shortly, forcing her legs to carry her out of the room.
Upon her departure, Rachel sighs, moving to the bar cart. Her fingers drift over the bottle of gin and she closes her eyes. A drink is precisely the ticket. She pours herself a generous amount, taking care to mix a martini, garnishing it with precisely three olives.
She hears MK approach on hesitant feet, the click of her boots making low scraping sounds against the expensive hardwood.
Rachel's brow wrinkles before she turns, extending a crystal tumbler toward her.
"I took the liberty of fixing you something. Won't you sit?"
MK's suddenly cold, hugging her arms around her middle. She had scrubbed her hands to the point of rawness, but dried blood was still caked under her fingernails.
Gingerly, she takes the glass from Rachel, bringing it to her nose. "What is this?"
Rachel sits gracefully on the edge of one pristine white cushion. "Whiskey, neat. Drink it. It will do wonders for the trembling."
She can tell the other woman is hesitant. "Please, Veera. It will only help."
Once more, MK listens, taking a small sip at first and when Rachel nods in approval, a larger one, drinking until she's drained the glass and her belly and throat both burn.
But she is no longer shaking, no longer cold and with a deep, full bodied exhale, she leans back, her head supported by the sofa.
"I killed someone," she repeats numbly. "I took a life."
"Veera," Rachel folds her hands, her own drink long since consumed, "you must understand, what you did, it was to protect yourself. These were not usual circumstances."
She watches MK process this, toying with a hangnail. She sees the protest form on her lips and she immediately dismisses it with a wave of a manicured hand.
At this, her eyes narrow suspiciously. "Why are you---"
The words become lost and she swallows thickly, feeling stupid and out of place among the monochrome of the apartment. She doesn't belong here.
Rachel crosses one ankle over the other. "It's really quite simple. The man you murdered tonight has been a problem for years. I was planning his demise when you came along and took care of the issue for me. I was left indebted to you, dear Veera. And you needn't worry about the particulars. Just be assured that he was properly...disposed of and nothing can be traced back to you. The men that work for me are very good."
It's difficult to understand what others mean sometimes and even more difficult to understand their actions, so it's almost beyond MK's scope of reasoning to grasp why Rachel was so willing to come to her aid, despite her explanation.
"Would you care for another drink?"
It's quite obvious that MK is still in shock, though she's less of a mess than when they first came back. Rachel has the distinct impression that it is going to be a long evening.
She shakes her head, her large eyes filling with tears. "He was a bad man. That's what I keep telling myself. But it was still a life. I've never---I would never---"
In the boardroom and bedroom both, Rachel runs the show. People take orders from her. It's where she excels.
However, she can recognize her weaknesses and offering up comfort is one of them. She's awful at it and perhaps, it's because her mother never gave her much in the way of it and eventually, she learned to live devoid of sympathy, of empathy.
"Please, listen to me," she has to clamp down to keep the bite out of her tone, "Ferdinand was a vile excuse for a human. He held no value in life and therefore, there is absolutely no one in this world who will miss him. No one to remember him, other than to give thanks that he's gone."
She takes MK's chin under her finger, forcing her to meet her gaze. "You did humanity a favor."
MK does not know if it's this small allowance that Rachel's giving her or the fact she's showing a shred of humanity, herself, or maybe she's still in a weird sort of dream state, still, but her only reaction is to burst into tears.
If anything makes Rachel uncomfortable, it's crying. It makes her itchy to watch people turn into blubbering, snotty messes. Even as a child, she detested it, preferring the company of adults to playing outdoors with other children who'd cry when they skinned a knee. She didn't contend with outward displays of emotion.
But suddenly, abruptly, MK was sobbing into her shirt, and through her disgust (and dismissing the snide remark she was about to make regarding MK ruining a $300 blouse), she was able to pat her back and to her great surprise, what came out of her mouth next was as close to empathy as she's ever achieved.
"There, there," she says under her breath. "Now, now...chin up. Everything is going to be just fine."
As if pulled by an invisible string, MK jerks her head up, her face reading mortification. "I'm sorry, I---I don't know---"
Her cheeks are on fire, she thinks, pulling away from Rachel and wiping her eyes.
Rachel is nonplussed, hands her a tissue from a box on a side table. "There's no shame in crying. I promise."
She has no idea where the sentiment comes from. It is nothing she's thought about, never mind uttered, and it seems to take MK aback just as much as it does her.
But it puts an end to the tears and she supposes she can be relieved, at the very least.
An odd sensation has settled in her chest cavity, something entirely foreign. She's not certain she likes it.
"You're welcome to stay here for the night. I think it's best if you don't return home."
Too exhausted to argue, MK agrees with the slightest of nods.
"You can use the guest bedroom. You'll find a pair of night clothes in the dresser and there are clean sheets on the bed."
Wordlessly, MK rises, puts her empty glass in the sink and retreats to the aforementioned room, leaving Rachel to puff air through her nose and then out of pursed lips.
Paying back a good deed, aside, she was going soft and the thought was annoying.
When MK comes back, dressed in a neat set of pajamas, face washed, she looked young and child like and Rachel felt a pang.
"Thank you," she says softly, coming to sit again. "For everything. If you hadn't come by---"
Though she's dismissive, MK still hears the pleased sound she makes in the back of her throat.
Sometimes, she can see what most people can't.
"I suggest you get some sleep, Veera. You've had a harrowing evening, haven't you?"
She stands, poised to go, when suddenly, she turns on her heel, looking to Rachel shyly.
"Would you---would you stay? I don't think I can be alone right now."
Rachel clears her throat and for a minute, MK worries she's offended her.
"It's okay if you don't---"
"I can stay, if that's what you want."
"Quite sure. There's no need to make a three ring circus about it."
She's stern, she knows, but the fact is she has not slept next to someone in ages...over a year. The idea causes irritating butterflies and she frowns in an effort to draw them away.
It isn't until MK is snoring quietly next to her, her head resting on Rachel's shoulder that she slowly, carefully, feels compelled to slide a hand on her back, rubbing small circles whenever she whimpers in her sleep.
The discovery was startling as it settled into her bones, this revelation that she who never benefited from protection, for comfort, knew how to give it.
