Subversive

Six weeks. I tried to calculate in my head exactly what I had missed: Forty two days of not getting up at five a.m. to beat LA morning traffic. Forty two days of not answering phone calls from demons that I couldn’t understand, yet somehow had to take down their information so that Angel could call them back. One thousand and eight hours of not waiting for the elevator to take its own sweet time while traveling through what must have been a hell dimension before finally releasing me into the archives floor.



It seemed like much longer than that. In place of navigation of my car, ordering coffee and blood, and sneaking flirty glances with Spike to avoid attracting the attention of anybody else, I had put up with the following: sleepless nights unless I was so drugged up I didn’t wake up for two days, agonizing bandage changes, nightmares that penetrated even the near-comas I put myself in to avoid the pain, and lots and lots of pain. I almost couldn’t remember a time when I had a good, lazy night’s sleep, or a relaxing day. I didn’t have vampiric healing abilities, so it was taking time. In place of that, I had rotating shifts of concerned coworkers who wanted to stay with me and keep me company. The only problem was, most of the time I didn’t want the company.



It was almost too hard to look each person in the eye, accept their sympathy, and listen to how they wished it had never happened. They wish it had never happened? What the fuck did they think I wished about? I was the one who had to relearn to walk properly, to talk without sounding as if I had a tracheotomy, to use the bathroom where it might not hurt like hell. Some days it was almost too much to see the attempted doses of optimism, the quickly shielded sad eyes, the bland attempts at distracting me. What the hell could they do that would distract me?



More often than not, the only salvation that came to me was in the quiet hours when I pretended to sleep and they left me the hell alone. Everyone was always trying to get me to talk about it, that I would feel better if I talked about it. How could that possibly be, when I was revisiting every moment of my attack glaring visual by visual in my dreams? I had already screamed and yelled at the world, released a world of hurt that if it had substance, then the world itself would have burned to a crisp. Talking about it was not what I needed.



Did I want to wallow in pity? Of course not. All I wanted was to heal and to move on. I would never truly forget what happened. I could barely have Spike lay a finger on me without starting to freak out. When I thought about what I had lost, it overwhelmed me some days. Then I remembered I was alive, and I tried to make it all better. Every once in awhile I smiled. The only thing that perked me up was when Spike read to me. He read poetry, literature, the weekly gossip magazines, and the TV listings, which we both heckled. He would tell me about the plotline of “Passions,” and I would shake my head. Or grimace, as the case may be. At night he lay beside me, utterly still in the way that vampires sleep, but he didn’t sleep. He watched me all night, and was there with the drugs when I whimpered and spasmed.



I sighed. It had been a long six weeks, but I was going to make it. The doctor had been right about one thing. Even though the damage was bad, I would heal. I was still in the recovery stage, but I was leaps and bounds from where I had been before. The dreams were beginning to fade, and they weren’t as common anymore. Sleep was beginning to get easier without the drugs. My hand was healed, my nose nearly done, the cuts and gouges were scabbed over and healing. Many of the bruises were fading away. I was able to eat solid food without having to blend it up first. Life was starting to look up a little.



Soon, I reminded myself. Soon I would have to return to work, and clothes that consisted of more than a robe or loose jammies. Damn it. I wasn’t sure I was quite ready to return, however. Six weeks had been a long time, but in some terms it wasn’t long enough. I wasn’t all the way ready. Maybe part of me never would be. But the fact was, I needed to make money. Angel had paid my bills for three months, and I couldn’t just say thanks and run away. I still had some time, though, and for that I was grateful. Angel said I could come back whenever I felt ready. It just wasn’t time yet.



I stared out the window of the apartment, half shielding my eyes from the near-blinding sunlight that was streaming through. Down below were the same people, the same cars, the same mindless patter of life as it passed me by. I watched, as I always did. Sometimes it struck me as funny to think that I was in on some big secret. Most of the world either didn’t know about or refused to acknowledge the darker side, the place where the demons lived and walked and killed. Most people didn’t know that they met vampires on a daily basis. Vampires were pure fiction. Of course.



Tenderly touching my neck, I released a breath when I realized that it didn’t hurt. I was beginning to scar over quite nicely. I had looked at it earlier, to find that I looked like some bizarre patchwork quilt. I had already made the decision to invest in a wide variety of scarves and high-collared shirts.



With a deep sigh, I carefully stood up, wincing as my back spasmed just a bit. My apartment was quiet, silent without all the chatter from visitors. For once I didn’t mind being alone. It gave me time to think, time to just be. Things had changed. Instead of my usual feminine garb strewn all over the living room, there were full cigarette trays, notebooks filled with scrawling from my hand and from Spike’s, and in the refrigerator were gallons of blood. His clothes filled my closet and laundry basket, which was actually funny considering that I had thought for a long time that he only owned one pair of pants.



Spike had moved in, all set. Full, thick curtains now hung around every window and the balcony door, though now they were spread open to allow me the sunlight. I was paler than the undead, and Spike assured me the sun would at least do some good for me. I personally thought the sunlight was overrated, but he had made the comment that I should appreciate being able to absorb the rays without disintegrating into dust. Maybe. There was a lot I was supposed to be grateful for that I had yet to rediscover the joy of.



I winced as I took slow, careful steps towards the kitchen. It was such a pain in the ass to struggle still, but at least I wasn’t needing the cane much anymore. It was a welcome relief, however, to grasp the unwavering countertop and lean against it. I had broken the coffee table a couple of weeks ago when I stumbled and fallen upon the damn thing. Nearly required fresh bandages. Let me just say that Spike was not a happy vampire when he found me lying there amidst the wood and glass.



The shrill ringing of the phone broke the otherwise total silence of the room, and I glared at it. I hated that sound, hated that usually it was someone of no interest on the other end.



“Oh, just leave me alone,” I muttered, instead reaching for the refrigerator handle and letting the answering machine do all the work.



As I perused the vitamin-infused bottled water shelved beside the dark red pitchers, the machine picked up, and I forced myself to listen to the message.



“Eva, it’s Fred. I was just calling to check up on you, see if you needed anything. Trust me, I’d be more than happy to come over if you need the company. Maybe bring you something to drink?” There was a pause. “Listen, Eva, I know you’ve said you don’t want to talk about everything, so I just… I just want to make sure that you’re okay. I have to go meet with Angel. Um, I’ll talk to you soon. Bye.”



The phone hung up and the machine beeped. I stared at the machine and leaned my head against the refrigerator, taking a cautious deep breath. My ribs ached a little and I sighed. Yet another “friend” trying to make sure that I was doing okay, offering aid to the helpless. It wasn’t that I didn’t appreciate the intentions. I just wanted to be left the hell alone.



I reached for a water, then moved to the sink. On the counter were the six bottles of pills that I was supposed to take regularly; a reduction from the nine of early on. And I was nearly done with two of them. Okay, technically two of the others were nighttime only. Whatever. I glanced at the clock. Nearly four o’clock. Time for round three.



As I took each pill, I savored the silence. There had been a time when I thought I wanted company just to keep the demons from coming to get me. But I was never really sure. For all I knew, it was all in my head. Now, the silence was a friend, even silence from the TV was decent. Would that ever change? Probably. At the moment, however, it didn't matter.



There was a soft knock at the front door. I slowly turned and stared. It felt like a mile between me and the front door. There was no way I could get there in less than five minutes, and by then whoever it was would leave. Was that such a bad thing?



The knock repeated itself. Sighing heavily, I finished taking my pills, opting to ignore whoever was there.


“Just go away,”I muttered.



The door slowly opened. I had forgotten to lock it again. Damn it.



Angel cautiously entered, a couple of bags dangling from one hand. “Eva?” he called softly.



Shit. I couldn't say no to Angel. Not after everything he had done for me.



“In here, Angel,” I replied, just as softly.



He looked up and met my gaze, a brief look of relief on his face. “You didn't answer. I hope you don't mind me coming on in.”



Moving like an old woman, I started shuffling towards the living room. “Of course not, Angel. I can never say no to you.” I sounded bitter, but I couldn't help it. “Come on in. I'm not taking back your invitation or anything.”



He closed the door and stood for a few moments, just watching me. “You're doing better,” he said neutrally.



I glanced at him. I heard the unspoken question, the whole “do you need help” riff I had heard billions of time already. “Sure. If you say so.”



“Of course you are, Eva. Look at you. Got enough fire in you now you might be able to put Spike back in his place.”



My lips twitched, betraying the hint of a smile. “And when did I become a miracle worker, Angel? I'm just me, not a bloody saint.”



Angel met me at the couch, setting down his bags on the floor. There was a small smile on his face, so endearing. “You really have been spending too much time with him. You're starting to talk like him.”



Shrugging ever so slightly, I looked up into the vampire's darkly handsome face. “Well, at least I haven't started writing bad poetry yet. Gotta look on the brighter side of life.”



As I began to sit, Angel automatically took my arm and eased me down. I grimaced. “If you keep doing that, Angel, I'm going to have to start calling you 'sir.'”



When I was gratefully leaning back against the soft cushions, Angel sat next to me. “If you do that, I'll have to fire you.”



Raising an eyebrow, I retorted, “I'm not working for you right now, so what's the difference?”



The amusement faded from his face, and he gently placed a hand over mine. “You know that's not a problem, Eva,” he said. “I already told you to take as much time as you need.”



Pursing my lips, I slowly pulled my legs under me. My muscles really were healing. “Yeah, I know.” I paused, glancing at the curtains. “Do I need to pull the curtains, Angel? Can't really stand the idea of accidentally frying my benefactor.”



Angel shook his head. “No, I'll be fine.”



There was a long stretch of silence as each of us stared at something different: I stared at the open windows, but I felt Angel staring at my neck. It wasn't predatory, it was the simple fact that my neck was something to be stared at.



“So what gives, Angel? To what do I owe this visit? I may be a lazy-ass, but you're supposed to be at work. You can't save the world from here.”



I felt his eyes staring at me harder, though when I glanced at him he looked away. Something inside just pissed me off. I knew what look he was hiding. He had been having a pity moment.



I sighed in irritation. “I don't want your pity, Angel. If that's all you've come for--”



“Eva.”



The way he said my name gave me pause. I slowly met his gaze, feeling the rawness reflecting in my eyes. Angel was gazing at me with a very closed-off expression, his eyes searching mine. He didn't move, but his fingers touched my arm.



“I didn't come to give you pity,” he said. “I know you don't want that. I came to check up on you, yes. I also came to bring you some food. Spike tells me you haven't been eating.”



Irritation came back full force. “Oh. So Spike now wants to tattle on me.” I shook my head angrily. “I honestly thought everyone would leave me the hell alone by now. Who cares if I haven't been eating? You don't eat, and you do just fine.”



Angel pinned me with a look. “That's because I'm a vampire, Eva. I don't have to eat. You're human.”



The simple statement ate at me. I felt a sudden rage build up inside of me, and I didn't know why. I was just so tired, so hurt, so damn angry at the whole damn world. The fact that Angel had arrived as the errand boy, to persuade the sick little girl to eat, really pissed me off.



Something closed down in my face. “Human. Yeah, I know that. If I didn't already get the memo, maybe we can just look at what happens to us humans. Enter Exhibit A.”



He frowned slightly, leaning forward. “Eva, why are you so angry? I didn't mean to upset you...”



I wanted to jump to my feet and stomp across the floor. Unfortunately, all I could manage was a slow and painful ease to my feet. The drugs were working; I wasn't feeling the tides of pain that usually erupted down my body.



“Yeah, no one ever does. No one wants to upset the broken girl. But everyone sure as hell wants to talk about it.”



“That's because they think you need to let it out.”



I slowly turned to stare at him, my eyes burning. “Let it out?” I repeated quietly. “Let it out?” My voice rose in volume, angry. “I've been letting it out every fucking day since it happened! I don't want to talk about it. I don't need to talk about it! And it's none of anybody's goddamn business!”



Angel watched me, that little frown staying on his face. “They care about you, Eva. We all do.”



“Oh, everybody cares about me? Then why can't all of you stop asking me to talk about it?” I demanded, a slight tremor entering my voice. I shuffled away from Angel, away from what he represented at the moment. “I've been revisiting that night ever since it happened. I don't want to spell it out for everyone. Fred calls me. Wesley calls me. Lorne calls me. Why can't you let me deal with it in my own way?”



“How's that going for you? Secluding yourself from everyone, tormenting yourself, keeping it locked away inside.” Angel slowly stood up, not moving towards me. “I know what it's like to be tormented, Eva. I know what it does to you. I spent a hundred years tormenting myself.”



“You know nothing!” I yelled, angry that tears were welling up in my eyes. I hated myself for saying such things but I couldn't help it. “You did all that to yourself. You were tormented by things you had done. I didn't do anything, Angel! I didn't fucking do anything!”



His eyes were calm as he watched me, slowly taking a step closer. “I know. You didn't deserve what happened. You were innocent. It should never have happened.” He paused. “But it did. And you have to accept that. If you don't, then you'll never be able to move on from it. It will eat away at you until you die, and you don't want that.”



I glared at him with tear-filled eyes. Was I just using my own pity to stay angry at the world? Was I so destroyed that I couldn't see the sun? Was it really such a bad thing that these people, my colleagues, my... friends, were so concerned about me?



“I just want it to go away,” I whispered, reaching out for the stuffed chair, only to realize that it was another foot away. I started to fall.



Before I could blink, Angel was holding me in his arms. I grimaced, hating the weakness that was me. My chest ached with regret, and pain, and sorrow.



“Bad things happen to good people, Eva,” he said quietly, holding me gently. “It's a painful truth, but that's life. You don't have to go down with it. You can fight it. You can still be strong. You've got people around you who will help you, but you have to let them. You can't deal with this on your own anymore.”



I felt myself begin to tremble, suddenly grateful that he was holding me. My fingers dug into his arms. They were so strong, so much stronger than I was. He was stronger than I was. His touch, though, was loving, and kind, and placating. The hatred that was burning in my heart wanted to lash out at the world and everyone in it, especially those who had tried to help me. The tears began to fall and I leaned my head against his chest. I didn't want him to see me cry.



Angel wrapped his arms around me, keeping me close. He didn't hold me too tightly, which helped reassure me that nothing was going to hurt me. It had taken a long time before I realized that someone could touch me and not want to hurt me.



It felt as if the weight of the world was slipping on my shoulders. I didn't think I'd ever really realized how much I had piled on myself. All the devastation and despair that had plagued my mind had built up such an intolerance to joy and life that I knew I had to reclaim those things or else I would be broken forever. And if I allowed that to happen, then the monster that had hurt me, though dead and dust, would still win.



“I don't want to let him win,” I whispered into Angel's shirt. “I can't let him win.”



Angel softly kissed the top of my head. “I can help you, Eva.”



Slowly looking up through watery eyes, I frowned questioningly.



Angel gazed back at me, his dark eyes determined. “I can teach you to fight. You won't ever have to be defenseless again. I'll make sure that if something happens, you'll know what to do. You won't ever have to be a victim again.”



While part of me knew that it was a vague promise and not something he could truly keep, the rest of me was intrigued. I knew that, while I would never be a match against vampires, I could learn enough to keep them at bay. Little old me? Learn to fight? It was a ridiculous thought. But at the moment, it sounded like the only plan.



Squeezing my eyes shut, I clung to Angel. My boss, my friend, my savior. If he believed I had forgotten what he had done for me, then he was wrong. I well remembered the way Angel had swooped in, bloodlust in his face, ready to maim on my behalf. He and my white prince, my saviors.



“I'm sorry,”I whispered. “I didn't mean...”



Angel shushed and kissed my forehead. “It's all right, Eva. You can yell at me whenever you want.”



I found myself smiling. It didn't even hurt.