Once she’s loosened my restraints and hands me my plate, I jerk my head at her and ask, “Fighting in the camps? Or did someone smack you around for your smart mouth? You should probably learn to keep it shut.”
Her lip curls at me, but the older woman butts in, “Don’t answer her, Zarah. We’re not supposed to talk to her. She’s just fishing for information. We’ll leave them to eat our food that we’re being so kind as to share with them.”
I scoff at her and Zarah looks as though she’s going to snarl something at me again, but the older woman snaps her fingers and they both walk out.
Kieran, who hadn’t spoken but watched the entire interaction keenly, breaks off a piece of bread to dip into the egg yolks and then mumbles around his mouthful, “Something happened last night. It was a long time before dawn, probably closer to midnight. Lots of yelling and screaming. I was surprised you slept through it all. There were enough footsteps that whatever happened, they called in for backup. I didn’t hear Davies specifically, but Franklin was there to stop any gifts in the mix.”
I nod and get to work on my own plate of eggs, dipping the bacon in the yolks because I wasn’t given any cutlery to eat with so I’m making do.
Kieran grunts and says, “Are there fights here a lot? Have you ever been in them? I thought you were green when you started at TT.”
I huff at him, because of course he wants to talk about it and not just stuff our faces. “There’s usually beatings and ambushes in the shower stalls, all sorts of shit you don’t want to hear. Fighting where the Resistance gets hurt? I’ve only seen it happen once before, and the guy who managed to get the hit in was put on the rack… publicly. They’re really good at making you watch people die in terrible ways here.”
He nods slowly, scraping up the rest of his eggs with the last little hunk of bread, and then says, “We’re getting you in therapy when we get back. I’ll make sure they all know how much you need it.”
Over my dead body.
I don’t know why I feel so adamant about that. Talking through my issues would probably be for the best, but my bond in my chest instantly rejects the very idea of it.
“And what about you? Are you going to go talk to someone about getting the shit kicked out of you by Resistance assholes?” I mumble. To my surprise, he nods.
“All TacTeam operatives have mandated counseling sessions. Every last person who serves has to go to debriefs with their higher-ups and then a minimum of monthly sessions with an appointed psychologist.”
What the fuck?
North and Nox both work in Teams when there’s a need. Do they both go as well? Why do I suddenly want to burst into inappropriate giggles at the very thought of Nox sitting there talking about his feelings? I mean, if any of my Bonds needs therapy, it’s that one.
I actually do giggle as the image of North lying on a couch, talking about his day, filters into my brain. How the hell would that go? The greatest control freak I’ve ever encountered just… spilling his guts to some suit.
I wonder if his psychologist is a man?
Oh my God. North has without a doubt fucked his female psychologist. He totally would. He’d bone her so he didn’t have to talk about shit.
“What the fuck are you thinking about, Fallows? Rein it in!” Kieran hisses, breaking me out of my spiraling descent into madness. My eyes haven’t shifted, but when I glance down at him, I can see the hair on his arms standing up and the whites of his eyes are bright as he freaks the hell out.
I blow out a breath and slow my racing heartbeat down as best as I can, murmuring, “Sorry. Shit, sorry. I just… I’m starting to lose it, being away from… being here. Fuck, I’ll stop doing that.”
He watches me carefully, almost gently, like he’s handling a bomb with a hair-trigger, and that’s the exact moment that the women decide to come back for our plates. Neither of them say a word as they grab them but when they stalk out, it’s only a minute before they’re back, carrying a bucket of soapy water and a pile of clothes each.
Ugh.
Wash time.
Zarah puts the bucket down in the center of the tent and snaps, “The showers are out of commission for a few days, but since you’re both our important guests here, you’re getting access to water and clean clothes. Strip and get to it, you both have places to be.”
Another piece of the puzzle for us both to stew on; the fight happened in the showers. It’s warm enough wherever the hell we are that it’s going to be a sweaty, stinking nightmare here soon if they don’t get it repaired and back in action in the next few days.