Broken

(Many thanks to Jay for RPing this with me. Thanks, Jay!--Maer)

Wednesday, 30 Aug 2519
Kuiper II class, Summer’s Gift
Bivouac, Miranda
Blue Sun (Qing Long) system
23:30 hrs, local time

        It was late when I finally showered the grime of the day off me. In the past week we'd all worked ourselves hard getting the ship repaired, getting us ready to leave, getting patched up.
        Fixing our hurts.
        The ship isn't the only thing broken, the back of my mind whispered. I told it to shut the hell up and quit the head for my quarters. As usual, I didn't listen to myself. Harry's right, my inner voice persisted. Go see him. He's right across the hall.
        Shut up.
        I pulled on the usual for bed and dithered with my hand on the locker door. Three steps and I'd be out my door. Another five would put me in front of his. Perhaps you're not viewing him in the correct context, Harry's words needled me.
        I grabbed my robe and tied it tight around me and after checking to see the way was clear of Jake's damned cameras, I went barefoot to Christian's door and buzzed it.

        Like everyone else, Christian has been working hard. His job, however, has been support. He's cooked the meals. He's washed clothes, linens, made sure things were kept clean and tidy. Someone tripping over a loose tool and breaking an ankle would not be what the doctor ordered, especially now. The end result is he doesn't sleep much. So, instead, he gets in cat naps when possible. Like now. Its a slightly sleep tossled and almost nude Christian who ends up answering the door. He's in his boxer shorts. "Muh?"

        "I'm sorry, I....," I stammered once I got my brain back in gear. Truly, I don't know what I was expecting, but it certainly wasn't Christian in his skivvies. God, this is going well. Get out. Now. "I can come back later if you're busy."

        "Just a moment." Christian slides the door shut. He grabs his kimono, pulls it on. Now he's more or less covered. The most indecent thing about him is he's showing a lot of leg. He opens the door again. "What's wrong, Rina?"

        "It's...." I checked the corridor, saw it was still clear of witnesses or cameras. "May I come in for a moment?"

        Christian raises an eyebrow but nods. "Sure." He steps aside, allowing Rina to enter. His room has been cleaned up since that lovely almost crash landing.

        Ever the gentleman, Christian stood at the door as I passed inside and waited for me to settle. There weren't all that many places to sit and what I wanted to say next required I stay on my feet. I waited til the door was completely shut, took a deep breath and began.
        "Harry gave me some advice the other day and thinking it over, I've decided to take it. But I need to know something before I go through with it."
        I crossed my arms and leaned against the bulkhead.
        "She said to me that I should 'take advantage of the platonic skills a Companion can offer' so I can...get past my aversion to being touched. I know that as our steward caring for our needs is part of your job description and as a Companion, it's part of your nature. I also know that you and Harry spent a lot of...time...together on that island and I want to know: was it her idea to put me up to this? Or yours?"
        There. Said and done. Time to face whatever happens next.

        "I've never talked to Harry about you." Christian assures, his friend, "Though it might be a good idea, yes. Fears need to be faced to be overcome." He stays away, though, leaving the room between him and her. Giving her personal space.

        "I'm sorry. I was rude." I hugged my arms tighter but kept my eyes on him. "I'm...I think she's right. No matter where the idea came from, the fact remains I'm... broken, Christian. And I don't know how to fix it. And...seeing Brian and Nika and what will happen to her if he dies, I can't..." You're babbling. Get a grip. "I need your help. Will you give it?"

        "Of course I will." Christian promises. "How could I not help one of my best friends?" His smile brightens, "Besides, it will help me keep in practice. I have months ahead of me of no clients..."

        "The word she used was 'platonic'." I straightened against the bulkhead, hard.

        Christian doesn't, to his credit, laugh. He does smile, however. "I have... someone to practice those arts with. I meant the platonic parts, Rina."

        “Sometimes I can’t tell when you’re serious or not.” I relaxed a fraction of an inch. “So… You’re the expert. Where do we start?”

        Christian thinks about it, then nods to himself. "I'm going to wash your feet."

        I bit my tongue on my instinctive response-- wrong end, Christian! --and reminded myself that I was the one that came knocking on his door. I'd agreed to put myself in his hands and there was no backing out of it now.
        "All right." I pulled his desk chair out and sat down. "What do I have to do?"

        "Wait here." Christian says. "I'll be right back." Indeed, five minutes later he returns with a basin. "I'm Buddhist, as you know, but I admire a lot about Christianity. Christ washed the feet of his disciples. It was a gesture of love and surrender, showing trust and subservience to his friends despite him being their master."

        "What does it have to say about bathrobes?" I regretted the words the instant they fell from my tongue, but I needed something to distract myself from what was coming. I dared look at him to see if he took my flippant comment amiss.

        He places the basin on the floor and kneels in front of Rina. With gentle hands, he lifts her left foot and then brings it to rest in the warm water. Strong, agile fingers both wash and massage, following the contours of the foot and seeking out the spots of tension. "Likely some obscure Old Testament rules about what fibers you can use."

        His fingers went to work and I couldn't speak, transfixed by the sensations they unleashed.
        Head up. Eyes front. Breathe.
        "I always thought Leviticus was a buzz-kill. Unfortunately, Sister Evgenia didn't appreciate it when I announced it during her lecture."

        Christian glances up, "Close your eyes." He suggests. "I remember my first nun. It was an interesting experience. The Guild uses them for training exercises in seduction." He gently curls and then uncurls the toes, wiggling them in little circles. Loosening them up.

        My eyes flew open of their own volition at his mention of the nuns.
        "God, Christian! Nuns? The Guild...you....made them break their vows and....," I grit my teeth and made my foot remain where it was, no matter how much I wanted to kick him. "Please tell me they volunteered for it first."

        "Gotcha." Christian says, his eyes glittering. His fingertips wiggle lightly at the underside of Rina's foot.

        "Beast." I said, and meant it. "Maybe this wasn't such a good idea. I should stop wasting your time." I gathered myself up to go.

        "Alright." Christian says. "I see we're going to have to pull out the big guns." He pushes the basin aside. "Go take a shower, wash your hair, and get dressed. Then come back here."

        "Fine!" I snarled. I rose and got across that cabin and put my hand on the latch...and stopped. I put my forehead to the metal of the door and closed my eyes and prayed for patience...for the intestinal fortitude to see this through.
        Never back down. Never start something you can't finish.

        "Here." Christian hands her his shower kit. "Use my shampoo. It'll help restore a bit of luster to your hair. When you come back I'll put in the conditioner and work on your hair a little."

        I reached blindly for it and did as he ordered, never mind my hair was still wet from the shower and my robe was damp from it. I opened that door and checked to see if the coast was clear and got out of there.
        I had the shower to myself, a blessing, and resolutely put Rick's comments about spy cameras out of mind. Christian's shampoo lathered up rich, thick and scentless. Rinsing it out was a snap. Feeling almost too clean, I returned to his cabin with my head wrapped in a towel filched from the rod, and buzzed his door.

        "Good." Christian says. He settles Rina down in front of his makeup mirror and removes her turban towel. While she was gone, he has dressed, putting on a pair of pajama bottoms and a t-shirt.

        "It's a mess. I was wondering if you'd cut it for me."

        "A few layers..." Christian says, lifting up strands of hair and letting them fall, "Some purple or maybe some glittering blue... you'd be a nice bit of punk princess."

        Relax. He's joking again. Two can play that game.
        "Purple? Bite your tongue. Decent Russians use red and gold." I sobered. "Seriously, it's getting too long."
        That's it. Keep it light. One step at a time.

        "We could do that, but it wouldn't be as much fun." Christian says with a sigh. He pulls open a drawer and, believe it or not, there's a hair cutting kit in there. Complete with a cloth he drapes around Rina's neck. "Do you want it cute tomboy short, athlete short, or butch short?"

        Fun?
        "Stop," I said, holding my hands up. "You're going too fast for me. Just....stick to the original plan. Something about conditioner?"

        "Of course." Christian says, "We start with that." He picks up a plastic bottle. There's no label on it. When he pops the cap the scent of strawberries is so rich that it would be easy to close the eyes and imagine there was a bowl of them right on the counter. "Guild special blend."

        The scent of strawberries was overwhelming, intensely fragrant and sweet. I nodded and kept my mouth shut and breathed as shallowly as I could. Harry had suggested we start out doing something to my hair, so I sat there and let Christian do all the work.
        Just as I suspected that first day when we talked in the galley, his fingers were supple, strong and nimble. Feeling them on my scalp gave me the oddest sense of de ja vu and as the definition goes, though I knew this was the first time Christian had ever done this to me, I couldn't shake the feeling we'd done this before.
        Simmer down. You're overthinking it. Mike's brushed out your hair any number of times. That's all this is.

        Christian's fingers have a task: coating the hair with conditioner to help rebuild body and heal damage. That doesn't mean his fingers can't also rub along the skull, working out the subtle itches and the stress that comes from a day of scowling at uncooperative machinery and annoying camera folk.

        Under Christian's hands, I could feel the tension across my back loosen and the ache between my shoulder blades eased back a notch. I could feel my reserve loosening too and I sat there, took my courage in hand, and offered him something unasked.
        "I told you what happened to me during the War and how Mike helped me pick up the pieces afterward. And when I finally trusted him enough to let him past my defenses, I let him in all the way. And committed to him. Exclusively, because at the time, it was the only commitment I could make. That was a decade ago and I never questioned my decision. But this past year...The things that've happened, the things he said to me when we parted on Salisbury...what Harry said to me yesterday..." I took a steadying breath. "I think I should reconsider that commitment. And I can't do that if I'm broken. That's why I'm here, Christian. I can't run that diagnostic if the program's faulty."

        "Mmm." Christian replies, his fingertips massaging at hairline, almost down into her forehead. "Well, let's look at it from an engineer's perspective. Identify what is broken. Look at your options to repair it. Do you want to start with your relationship with Mike? Or just with how you feel about it?"

        "No." The mechanical analogy was doing its job, putting me at the necessary remove so I could tackle the problem objectively. "We need to go back farther than that. The commitment I've made with him is a symptom, not the cause."

        Christian nods his head. He draws his fingers back and steps to the side, to give Rina's hair the critical eye. "He was a life preserver. Something to clutch onto after what happened. To give you the strength to stand because you had trouble doing it on your own."

        I met his gaze in the mirror.
        "You're almost right. The night when I realized there was no going back, he was that. But he and I didn't become lovers for weeks afterward. By then, I had both feet firmly planted, thanks." I shook my head before he could gainsay me. "That's not the point or the problem. Mike did what he could to heal the damage done, because it was his nature to do so and to give the man credit, he did a magnificent job with what he had to work with. Thanks to him, I'm no longer a twitchy traumatized basketcase."
        I grinned wryly at his reflection.
        "Now, I'm just twitchy."
        I turned in the chair and looked up at him.
        "As much as Mike succeeded, and as much as we love each other because of it, it doesn't erase what the Lieutenant did to me. That bastard did more than rape me, Christian, he took away my ability to trust people in general, men in particular, and sex? Always. That colors damned near everything I decide, everything I do. That can't be healthy. I know it can't. It's a hell of a filter and I want to rip the damn thing out of me. And I don't know how to do it.
        "My commitment to Mike, it's....it’s real. But I can see how it can blind me to things that need addressing. Like this one." I sighed and looked away. "Is any of this making sense to you?"

        "It does." Christian says, nodding his head. "It makes a lot of sense. I wish I could reach in, pull it out. Make it go away forever. I can't do that. There are some men you can't trust. We both know that. At the same time, you know, intellectually, there are men you can trust. The trick is making the rest of you agree."

        "So, how do we do that? How do I do that? I'm not a kid anymore. I can't just walk up to people and be instant friends with them. That's a child's way of looking at the world and if we're lucky, we grow out of it.
        “I know that there are people you can't trust, just to look at them. But for everyone else, I end up holding them at arm's length and testing them constantly. I'm thirty, Christian. I've got a good ninety years left. I don't want to spend them digging trenches and hiding behind barbed wire. It's time I left the fortress. It's time to get the hell out."

        "Well." Christian says, obviously thinking through his next words, "Rape causes an emotional response. Multiple emotional responses. When you have an engine with multiple problems, you don't fix them all at once. You attack one at a time. So, there's shame, because you feel you should have somehow stopped it. Anger, because someone did something horrible to you. Fear, because if someone you're supposed to trust with your life could do that to you, who knows who else can. Humiliation, because it reveals a weakness you have. There are likely more."

        "Believe me, Christian, I know the laundry list. I've already catalogued it. Is there a way we can cut to the chase?"

        "That is the chase." Christian says. "Like I said, think of them as engine parts. We deal with each emotion, one at a time. Shame's the one I think we need to deal with first."

        "That laundry list I mentioned?” I understood the reason for his caution and was grateful for it, but I needed to jump start this engine or we wouldn’t get anywhere fast. “Fear and distrust are the two items I haven't been able to cross off it. Can we work on those?"

        Christian picks up a comb and scissors. He begins to work through Rina's hair. Now, it is silky smooth enough to cut easily. "I'm going to just take off the split ends. Get it healthy." He begins. Comb. Snip. Comb. Snip. "We'll start here." He answers the question, finally. "Until I can touch you, just put my hand on your shoulder or brush you while we pass in the hall without you jumping. Then we'll work on the rest."

        "I'm not that bad, am I?" I stared at him in the mirror. "About the jumping?"

        "No." Christian says. "Not with Arden and I. Not anymore. You don't put yourself in situations where it is a problem with other men, generally." More snipping. Bye bye dead ends.

        "Then what's point? You I don't have that problem with. Are you sure we aren't misdirecting our focus?"

        In answer, Christian puts down his scissors and presses his fingers into the knot in the middle of Rina's shoulderblades, hard. "That's stiffer than it was when we started."

        "Yebanat!" The pain riped the curse out of me before I could stop it and I jerked away from his fingers. My voice dragged all the way up from my toes. "That hurt, you bitch."

        "That thing is constantly there." Christian says, firmly. "Except, maybe, when you're with Nika. The moment I come into the room or, I assume, Rick or Arden, your shoulders hunch forward a little. Your spine curls a little. Defensive posture. Aren't you tired of swallowing aspirin like candy?"

        I took a cleansing breath and settled back in the chair.
        "Do it again."

        "I'm going to finish cutting your hair first." Christian says. "Then, if you want, I can give you a deep tissue massage. You'll be sore for days but after that you'll feel more relaxed."

        "No." I shook my head at him. "Do it now while I'm still able to take it. If you make me wait, I'll just tense up more." I turned in the chair, careful of the scissors. "Seriously, Christian. Subtle doesn't work with me."

        Christian considers, then nods. "Alright. In that case, we'll need to go down to my suite. My massage table is there. I can do this without you taking your shirt off and, if you want, we can grab Harry or Nika to come watch."

        "No. No hand holding. If we're going to do this, then we'll do it. Don't baby me, Christian. It's for damn sure the Universe won't." I rose and stood nose-to-chest with him. I motioned toward his door. "Let's go."

        Christian can't help but grin. "That's my Rina." He says, under his breath. Then he's through the door, down the stairs, and into his suite. Along the way, he makes a mental note: Finish her hair. She's lopsided.

Much of the success of this RP is due to Jay's efforts, so check out his other entries in the Timeline.

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