In the Blood [ON HOLD]

"I'm Not Afraid of You"

For a moment, Charlie just stared at him, lying there on her bed with his eyes closed, looking deathly sick. Shaking her head, she tried to convince herself that the only reason she let him in was because he looked so ill. 

She'd had a good two hours to think about everything Moira had said to her this morning. It called into question her intelligence, which she disliked immensely. 

Her feet padding silently over the wood floor, she moved to the end of the bed. His eyes flew open as she took off his shoes, then promptly slammed shut. With a sigh, she went to the windows and pulled the drapes closed, blocking out the sunlight.

She finished with his shoes, then moved to his belt.

"Not now, I have a headache," he muttered, swatting her hands away, eyes still closed.

"The more comfortable you are, the better this will work," she said, rolling her eyes. Then she scowled when she realized it was a wasted motion.

He frowned, but let her pull his belt from its loops. She unbuttoned his jacket, and undid his tie. "Can you sit up and take off the jacket?" she asked, making sure to keep her voice soft.

Not answering for a second, he frowned, his eyebrows pulling together. She took a moment to just look at him. There were circles under his eyes and his skin was pallid. He needed a shave. She startled when he lurched upright, then leaned forward, his head in his hands.

Moving carefully, she got up onto the bed behind him and he sat up a little straighter, turning his head to look at her from the corner of his eye for a second. She hesitated, then put her hands on his shoulders, and he let her help get the jacket off, revealing the darker grey shirt he was wearing underneath it.

Speaking low, he said, "Should I take my shirt off too?"

Charlie sighed, making him flinch. She scooted back to the top of the bed, sitting cross-legged and putting a pillow in her lap. "Lay back," she commanded.

He did, pulling himself up the bed so his head rested on the pillow. His eyes stayed closed.

With care, she threaded her fingers under his neck, beginning to gently massage the muscles that ran along the spine. Remi grimaced, letting her know when she found a particularly tender spot.

They stayed like that in silence for a long time, Remi relaxing as she worked. Her eyes were half-lidded, all of her concentration in her fingertips as she convinced taut threads of muscle to relax.

After a while, Remi sighed. His eyes opened a little, looking up at her through his lashes. "Where'd you learn this?" he asked, voice still whisper quiet.

"I have a friend who worked as a masseuse for a little while. She said the area she worked on the most was neck and upper back." Charlie chewed at the inside of her cheek. "Stressful day?"

There was a curious lilt to the question, which made it sound like she wanted to know more than just about the kind of day he'd had. She wasn't sure she wanted to know, and her eyes flicked to his hands where they rested on his chest. There was some kind of reddish-orange stuff streaked over his fingers.

She didn't know what it was.

Remi just shrugged. "I've had easier days."

Well that was a non-answer if she'd ever heard one. When the muscles under her fingers felt reasonably pliable, she said, "Either sit up or roll onto your stomach."

He sat up. She got up onto her knees and placed one hand on the front of his shoulder for support, the other working at the muscles on the left side of his back. Her stomach pressed into his arm. Every now and then, she'd make him tilt his head sideways, stretching through the side of his neck.