Robert Crane - Omega

“I haven’t forgotten,” Zack said, and I could hear the tightness in his voice. “A lot of my buddies died when they decided to wipe out our agent ranks, you know.”

“I know.” I let my hand run along the front of his sweater, coming to rest on his collar. I wasn’t wearing my gloves, because I hadn’t bothered to replace the ones Eve had sullied with one of the numerous spare sets in my closet yet. I avoided his skin, instead rubbing the soft threads between my thumb and forefinger. “You should get out of here for a few days. Maybe take a vacation.”

I felt his head turn more than saw it. I didn’t want to read his reaction, but I heard it in his voice. “You know I’m not leaving you.”

I felt the weight of my head against his shoulder, and I wondered if it felt like the weight of the world to him. “Yeah. I know.”

He took his hand and ran it across my cheek and I realized for the first time he was wearing a glove, a very soft, almost skin-like glove. I glanced down, expecting to see fabric but saw a flesh-toned color in its stead. “You like it?”

I ran my hand across his, felt the ripple of my nerves, my flesh, as we touched for longer than we ever had before. “Did you…?”

“Picked it up this afternoon,” he said with a ready smile. “Doc Sessions made it more flesh-colored, said he thought that’d be less…I dunno, odd or something.” He pulled his sleeve up and I saw his arm, covered with the material of the suit. I ran a hand up his to his bicep and gave it a squeeze, as though I were touching him, really touching him. “You like?”

“I like.” I let my fingers stay on his arm, then ran them further up his sleeve to his shoulder. “And it goes…?”

“Pretty much everywhere,” he said, pulling down his turtleneck to reveal the top edge of the suit around his neck. “Hands, feet, toes, and uh…” he hesitated, “everywhere in between. It stretches, too,” he said, suddenly looking uncomfortable, “so, you know…it uh…it works uhm…well. And whatnot.”

My hands found their way down to the bottom of his sweater, and I lifted the bottom edge of it, sliding my hands along his waist, working the material of the suit between my fingers, feeling it give and stretch as I kneaded it. “And you can feel everything through it? It’s not…”

“Oh, yes,” he said, nodding. “I can feel everything. It’s thin, really thin, and it’s almost like touching, no barrier in the way.” I leaned in and nuzzled his neck, kissing the area covered by the thin sheen of the suit, and I heard him take a sharp inhalation. “Yep. I can definitely feel that.” I broke away and came up after a moment and my eyes met his. “Are you sure you’re ready?” His whole face was patient expectation mixed with desire, and I could read it in him as though it were written in letters across his chest, his face.

“I’m ready,” I said. “I’ve been ready for this for…so long. I just…we still have to be careful.”

He smiled. “We’ll take our time.” His hand ran along my arm, taking my hand, his fingers threaded through mine, no glove, as real as if he were truly touching me. I felt the warmth, the pressure of his squeeze, and I closed my eyes. “I love you.”

“I love you, too.” I tried to return his smile but it faltered.

“You sure?” he asked, and I felt the concern in his touch this time, the way the pressure was different, no leather between my hand and his, no cold cowhide holding back the subtleness of his caress.

I opened my eyes. “I’m sure.” I kissed him again, and then stood, taking his hand in mine. “Never been surer of anything.”

He ran his hand over my cheek, a caress I’d felt a thousand times briefly. This time it lingered, sweetly. I felt his hand in mine, and I looked in his eyes. I led him toward my bedroom, just as we had a hundred times before. But this time was different, new, unfamiliar, and when we passed through I shut the door behind me, as though I could close out all the distractions, all the worries, all the thoughts of Reed, and Omega, and Old Man Winter, and leave them outside. I closed the door and we went inside, and left everything of the outside world behind until morning.

I awoke to the steady in and out of breath being drawn, and light sliding across the floor from the enormous windows that lined the wall of my room. The sun was streaming in from overhead, already high in the sky, shining bright light on my entire apartment.

I felt Zack close to me; for the first time, I’d tried falling asleep on his shoulder, something that was never truly possible before. I hadn’t stayed that way, unfortunately, because I’d discovered after an hour or so that his every breath, every move was jarring, and I had rolled over but remained close. His every movement wasn’t quite so distracting this way and he was still so much nearer than he’d ever been before we had the suit.

I watched his face as he slept, the closed eyelids and relaxed look upon his handsome features, the easy comfort. I didn’t want to wake him, and I didn’t want to leave. I pondered tiptoeing to the bathroom because the need to go was urgently rising, but I held out as long as I could, then used meta strength and agility as well as a tremendous amount of patience to move as slowly as possible to extricate myself from the covers without disturbing him.

I followed the beams of light across the floor to the bathroom, shutting the door before I turned on the light. After I finished taking care of my business, I washed my hands and leaned forward on the marble counter, looked at the mirror above the vanity. The bathroom was spacious, the toilet a solid eight feet from the door and the glass-encased shower just beyond it. There was an independent heating unit that began to run when I turned on the light, cutting the chill in the air as I felt the prickle of cold cause my flesh to goosepimple as I stood there, staring at my face in the mirror.

Little doll , came the voice of Wolfe, just a whisper, in the back of my mind. The image of myself, nude, in the mirror, didn’t change, but it was almost as though I could see him looking out from behind my eyes. Once, it would have sent me in a scramble to find clothes. Now, I didn’t even move. I just let him stare, because that was all he was good for. Staring and some chatter.

“I’ll get to dealing with you in a minute, Wolfe,” I said, looking into the darkness of my own eyes. I had heard Wolfe and Gavrikov, the voices in my head, in the past when they had something ridiculously urgent to tell me, but I suspected the effort they had to expend in those instances required cooperation by both of them to be heard. The chloridamide I injected lasted for a good twenty hours and forgetting my dose, which I had last night, was the only way I ever saw them like this. And then, it was only ever one of them. Ironically , it was the one of them I couldn’t stand and would never have voluntarily chosen to share my brain with, not in a million billion years.

They’re coming for you, little doll .

“This I’ve heard,” I told him, far more casual than I felt. “You want to tell me why?”

Don’t know , he said, his voice a rasp. I could feel his eyes using mine to study my curves. Letting him do what he was doing now was my ultimate show of disdain for him. I could feel the disgust somewhere deep inside, but I couldn’t tell if it originated from him or me. Wolfe went where Wolfe was told, didn’t ask questions when it came to playing with little dolls like you .

“Well, I bet they were all just as charmed by you as I was,” I said to the mirror, to my image and the one deep behind it. “It’s a shame none of them ever had the ability to kill you before I came along, because it would have been worlds better than having you stuck in my head—”