Fucked Up Praxis Is Still Fucked Up

The other room is a little kitchen.  There's a large bottle of bourbon on the tiny table, almost full.

Don't mind if I do.

Two hours later, I'm out of bourbon and patience.  Fuck this.  I'm leaving.

No I'm not.  The outside door to Encke's office is locked.

Asshole.

I throw the bottle across the room.  It clatters against the wall and disappears under his desk without breaking.  And I need to break something.  The last thing I broke was Ethos's face, and I can't bear to let that stand.  I can't keep seeing his terror and hurt every time I blink.

Encke left his tablet on his desk.  I grab it by the screen and bash it against the wall until my arms ache, but it doesn't break.  I yank the knife out of my boot and try to stab it, but that doesn't work either.  See my ugly, lopsided, crying face reflected in the shiny cover.  Hurl it away in disgust.

Lurch off to find the bathroom.  It's right by the trash chute and hey, there's a shower in here too.  Cool.  And what's this?  A tiny fridge?  With a bottle of moonshine/cleaning fluid/god knows?  Perfect.

I alternate between gulping the throat-burning liquid and attacking just about everything in Encke's little suite until the bottle is almost empty, I can't stand up anymore, and I realize the only breakable thing in here is me.



Sensations swirl around me while I lie still.  Sounds and voices and lights and colors.

Warm water falling.

Vomit on white plastic.  Gross.  Wash it away.

Thick scarlet swirling, spiraling.  Beautiful.

Amber eyes in a dark, worried face.

"Tiberius?  PRAXIS!  Talk to me!"

Can't. Don't want to. Go away.

Light stabbing through my eyes.  Yes, both of them.  And I know exactly what that fucking feels like.

"Don't do this, baby!"

Motion.  Shouting.  Piss and bleach smell.

Not this again.

"Hold him!  Where the hell is that sedative?!"

A jab, then spreading coolness.

Strong brown fingers interlaced with pale limp ones.

Big ugly wretched sobs that shake my whole big ugly wretched body.

Waiting for death.  Again.  Hurry up, goddammit.

Death is wearing dress whites and his soft platinum and gold waves brush my face as he leans over me.

"You've never done this before, have you?  Haha, that's so sweet!  I'll teach you..."

I could stay lost forever in his bottomless dark gaze.  But he recedes to somewhere I can't follow and pain comes creeping back.

The hand holding mine is small and milky white now.

Wide blue eyes are staring down at me from a bruised face.  He's got that look again, the childishly earnest one I always want to slap away because that look was beaten out of me long ago and I miss it.

"Sssss....suhhh..."

Why is talking so hard?

"Sssorry!  Ethos...guh...s-sorry!  Didn't mm...mean to..."

"I know!  It's OK!  I'm OK!  I'm sorry!"

"YOU...agh...Y-YOU'RE sorry?  I..."

"I didn't know!  I never bothered to find out until Keeler told me!  Oh my god, I had no idea!  The DAY BEFORE?!  Oh my GOD!"

"All right.  He gets it.  Let him rest."

A delicate white hand on Ethos's shoulder, eyes the color of a clear summer sky, a loose braid barely darker than his white tank top.  A kind smile.

Thanks, whoever you are.  And damn you're pretty.

"Oh!  Keeler!  I didn't hear you come in."

So this is who slashed Encke's arm open.  I can see why he didn't want the story getting around.

"Ethos, why don't you go get us some drinks from the officers' canteen?  Here's my pass.  I'd like to talk to Praxis for a minute."

The moment Ethos is gone, Keeler's eyes turn from summer sky to ice.  He brings his face so close I think (hope?) for a moment he's going to kiss me.  Instead, he whispers, "Listen, jackass.  This is war.  Either get your shit together or do the job properly next time.  We don't have time for this crap.  And if you hurt Ethos again--or Encke--I'll fucking show you how to slit your wrists like you mean it.  You hold the knife or I will.  Are we clear?"

So that's why my wrists ache.

"And knock off the trouser tent.  I'm straight."

Ethos returns and so does Keeler's smile.  They chatter brightly and take turns helping me sip something sweet and tangy until I fall asleep again, wondering how and why this gorgeous, terrifying apparition thinks I might hurt his fighter.