#zachary

The first thing Kaitlin hears when she wakes up is footsteps against the bedroom floor.

What... I don't share a room. I haven't shared a room in months. Who is that?

Oh. Right.

The heat of shame rushes through her limbs as she remembers. By the time she's figured it out, Zachary is already opening the door and leaving the room. Once she's sure he's gone, she pokes her head out of the blankets.

Outside, she can hear the hotel stirring to life for the morning, the hive members getting up and out of bed on the floor above her. She forces herself to look around the bedroom -- Zachary's bedroom. It's almost completely indistinctive: a few framed photos on the dresser, one drawer slightly ajar, the rest a liminal display of beige and landlord white. You'd think the one room in this hotel occupied by a human and not by an assimilated member of a hive mind would have some more personality to it. She almost feels disappointed. She wants there to be more of him here.

And she remembers again. Fuck. She absolutely was not supposed to have done that. Chelsea's going to kill her.

All right, Kaitlin. Sitting here marinating in embarrassment isn't doing any favors for anyone. She pulls herself up to a sitting position, looks over at the mirror on the door. Her hair is sticking up in all directions, her face red. The feeling of the thin hotel blankets against her skin reminds her that, oh, right, she hasn't put her clothes back on yet either. There they are folded on the chair in the corner. She definitely didn't do that, which means Zachary did. Warmth fills her chest again, similar to the shame, but not the same.

She needs to get her butt in gear. Sooner or later Zachary will be back and he's already seen her naked quite enough. Or worse, Hiro's going to come in here and she'll get the experience of explaining to a 200-person hive mind that she just fucked their guardian/collective boyfriend/whatever the fuck we're calling it.

She gets up, walks over to the chair, puts her clothes back on. She looks around for her hairbrush before remembering that it's in her room, which is all the way across the hallway. Goddamnit. Well, she could stay locked in here all morning, or she could suck it up, head down the hall, and risk a few hive members seeing her bed head.

Hopefully Zachary is no longer on this floor.

She runs into a couple of the hive members on her way down the hall, but none of them pay much attention to her. It's astonishing how much they ignore her now. She doesn't even have to wear the plate armor anymore, which is good, because it is also in her room.

Just before she turns the corner onto her hallway, she hears the faint sound of a mop sweeping across the carpeted floor. Before she can register that this makes it a bad idea to turn around, she turns.

Zachary is standing in the middle of the hallway, mop in hand, cart of cleaning supplies at the ready.

"Oh! Morning, Kaitlin! I didn't know you were up."

She studies his face. She can't tell if he's as embarrassed as she is.

"I haven't been up for very long, but, uh... I forgot my hairbrush."

Before he can respond, she darts into her room and shuts the door. The shame returns. Now Zachary probably thinks she's ignoring him, and god knows he doesn't need that right now. She remembers how his face shattered last night when Hiro screamed at him. And now she's letting him down, too? Because she's embarrassed? The fuck, Kaitlin?

Don't feel bad for him, Aspen says. Remember what you're here to do.

It's the first time she's heard from him all morning. She finds herself slightly annoyed by it. Right now, what I'm here to do is be there for my friend, who's having a terrible time. The rest can come later.

She goes to the bathroom, runs the brush through her hair a few times until it's all at the very least pointing the same way. She looks in the mirror. Good enough.

Then, before she can think better of it, she marches out of the room and back into the hallway.

"Got another mop?"

Zachary looks up from the carpet. His eyes flash. "Oh, I --"

"C'mon. I want to help you. You shouldn't have to clean this whole place by yourself."

A few stray syllables leave Zachary's throat, none of them completed. He has no idea what to do with her right now. He has questions. She does, too.

"There's another mop in the hall closet," he says finally. "You can take that one... I mean, you don't have to at all, but since you're asking --"

"I already said I want to," she says, giving his shoulder a little flick. She didn't even think about it. She's struck by how easy it's become to touch him.