He moved closer, steeling himself, and peered through the opening. Cracked asphalt, baking in desert sunshine. His mind fought it, but this place was too much a part of him not to recognize it. The grocery store parking lot. A waffle house down the block, a used car dealership, a dollar store. Cheap, prefab structures of fake adobe, aging fast in the pitiless sun.
The wet, hollow thwack of a baseball bat, connecting with a skull.
He turned, braced to see the grizzled man, his face splattered with Dad’s blood.
It wasn’t him. It was Mark clutching the bloodied baseball bat, grinning wildly. And it was Caro who lay crumpled and bloody and still at his feet. Her head caved in.
Noah? Noah, do you hear me?
He exploded upright, startled back into the physical world, his fist stopping just before it connected. She jerked back, and thudded to the floor on her ass.
“Never touch me when I’m having a flashback, Caro! I could have killed you!”
She recoiled. “I . . . I’m sorry!” Her sig tightened to a clot of anxious greens and grays. “I didn’t know it was a flashback. You called out my name, so I thought—”
“You scared the living shit out of me!” He flung his arm out, sweeping the a ceramic lamp off the night table, sending it crashing to the floor.
“Yo!” Sisko’s voice floated up from downstairs. “What’s up?”
Noah couldn’t get an answer out. He hunched over, fists clenched. Caro tried several times before she could speak. “We—we’re—we’re fine,” she called out.
“Noah?” There was a harder tone in Sisko’s voice.
“We’re good,” Noah called out. “Lamp fell. No problem.”
He was horrified at what he’d almost done. For years he’d thought he’d licked this. He was wrong. One bad imbed, and he was nailed right back to the wall. Falling to pieces before her eyes.
Caro was huddled on the floor. Afraid of him.
Desperately, he slid off the bed onto his knees and seized her. He nuzzled her silky hair, inhaling its silken, perfumed warmth. The sensory data of her perfume formed incredible visuals in his mind. Even with eyes shut, she dazzled him. His whole body was a wide-open eye, worshipping her.
He held her tighter. God.
“Sorry I yelled,” he muttered. “It scared me, that I almost hit you.”
Her hands slid into his hair, petting and soothing him. “I’m sorry, too. That I startled you. Was it . . . what do you call it again? An imbed?”
“Yeah. My analogs are all compromised. Even new ones. Don’t know why.”
“Tell me about it,” she suggested. “Maybe it would help.”
“No.”
Her fingers stopped for a moment, and then resumed their slow, soothing caresses. “OK,” she murmured. “Whatever.”
He should have sent her away days ago. He’d kept her for his own comfort. And not just for the sex. She kept him balanced. His pre-Caro equilibrium was trashed. If he couldn’t keep the combat program under control with his analogs, then proximity to Caro was his only alternative. She reinforced the underlying structures inside him so that the ASP and AVP could rage full force without driving him nuts. He retained his capacity for rational thought, impulse control. Decision making.
With Caro, AVP was a powerful resource, not a caged monster.
But she had to go. He’d have to stay on top of the AVP without her. Unchilled. Unsoothed. No diving. He had no idea how he’d pull it off. He was terrified to fuck things up. Let them all down. Get them all killed.
He was ashamed to have Caro see him in this condition. His own fault, for keeping her here.
They ought to get up off the goddamn floor at the very least. The bed was a whole lot softer.
He got up and onto the bed, fully intending to sit her right next to him.
She sat down on his lap, before he could stop her. His body’s reaction was instantaneous.
She kissed his forehead, shifting and wiggling her ass over his stiff, aching cock. Her lips were so soft. Light bloomed on his skin like bioluminescence wherever she touched him. She kissed his lips, her tender tongue flicking against his.
He pulled away, and slid her off his lap and onto the bed beside him. “Bad idea,” he said roughly.
“Bullshit!”
He was startled by her sharp tone. “What? What the hell is your problem?”
“Don’t play dumb,” she snapped. “I want you. I need to be close to you. We both need it. I’m sorry you got zapped by your imbed, but you appear to be fine, so get over it.” She reached out and gripped his stiff, aching cock. Her skillful stroke and twist made him gasp sharply, a shudder of pleasure racking him.
He trapped her hand, held it still. Sweat broke out on his forehead. He was trying so hard not to drown in this thing, and she just would not get it.
“I’m not playing hard to get,” he said. “Of course I want to fuck you. That’s a given. But I’m messed up right now. Thirteen years I’ve been busting my ass to manage my stress reaction and maintain impulse control. I thought I’d beat it. I was wrong.”
Her fingers tightened, stroking. The sensual caress made him clench his teeth.
“What’s wrong with this impulse?” she asked. “I love this impulse.”