Who do you think you're kidding? You are a machine. Nothing, but a soulless machine. That does nothing, but kill. You can't blend in. However hard you try. It'll always end up the same. Come back. To where you'll be needed. To where you'll be wanted. To where you need not concern yourself with anything else, but your guns. Don't believe you owe them anything. You don't have any obligations to these people. You are free. Free to kill anyone. Free to slaughter them all. They don't love you. They don't understand you. Who would understand a monster like you? "JO!" Jumping up from the bed and clutching her chest, Jo tried to get her breathing and heart back under control. "Shit." She reached out blindly, fumbling across the sheets of her bed, looking for the person who had called out to her. Meg was at her side. The hands on her gentle and soft and warm enough that she could forget—for that moment that Meg held her—the words echoing around in her head. "Shhh, Jo. You were making a lot of noise. I'm surprised no one woke up. Are you okay?" Meg was now rubbing a soothing circle on her back and she had latched onto her with enough force to bruise the other girl. She was sweating. Her palms moist, the back of her neck cool, now that it wasn't smashed up against the pillow, her chest hot with fright and adrenalin. She clutched Meg tighter. "Jo...you're scaring me. What's wrong?" Meg whispered in her ear. She smelled like the lavender bath soaps she kept by her vanity mirror. She smelled clean, dry and like cotton. Jo felt herself relax infinitesimally. "Nothing. Probably...something I ate." She whispered back. Although it didn't sound quiet as clear as Meg's voice. It was shaking and hoarse-sounding, the tenor even deeper because sleep-fogged and groggy. "You want me to get you something to drink?" Meg said this time. She moved her head back so Jo wasn't cradled against her neck anymore. "Like water?" It occurred to Jo when the words came out her mouth that, that was an incredibly stupid question. What did it matter what she drank? She hastily corrected herself, "No. I'm fine. You just..." Her arms were still around the redhead, still fisted in her nightshirt and not anywhere near letting go. "...Sleep." Meg gave her a funny look, patted her back one more time, and tried to lie back down. However, Jo wasn't letting go and it was kind of hard to fix herself comfortably in her spot, when Jo's hands weren't letting her move anywhere. "Sorry." Jo let her go. Now she knew something was up. "Jo, do you want to talk about it?" She was lying on her side, one of her hands reaching out so she could tug the white-haired girl to lie back down. Jo complied and soon she was looking at the profile of her companion as she lay on her back, her hands linked stiffly over her chest and position uncomfortable looking. Jo turned to her then, shifting onto her side and facing her with eyes that gave away more than they should. Meg felt her heart stop. But Jo didn't let her ask another question because she was moving closer to her, her hands now clutching the back of Meg's neck to pull her into an awkward embrace. It shut her up without a doubt, and she thought that maybe Jo was trying to avoid the topic. Whatever it was. "Jo, I don't want you to think that you can't come to me for anything? Because you can." Jo was being quiet with her. It wasn't her normal quiet. It was awkward and forced. The tension in the air and the tautness to her embrace, more than adequate signs pointing out a problem. There was pressure on her neck, Jo's blunt fingernails edging into the skin there and Jo's mouth pressed against her throat. She could feel her warm breath skating across her throat, feel its ragged rhythm and hear it's strange loudness. And then, as if in a dream, Jo was kissing her and hugging her even tighter around her back, her hands moving down to her hips, as Meg tried to think about the strangeness that led Jo to do this. It wasn't the usual way they found themselves together. Completely natural and melting, like they couldn't help it, like they were two planets moving in opposite revolutions, but nonetheless being drawn in by each other's gravity. Like she was the land and Jo was the ocean, the lapping of the shores smooth and gentle and happening because nature intended. It could not be helped, could not be stopped. It was beautiful harmony. But this, something was discordant about it. The way Jo kissed her and held her seemed more desperate than loving. Like she needed to remind herself that Meg was here and nowhere else. The hands roving over her hips were suddenly between their bodies, working Meg out of her underwear and touching her, pressing into her. She felt the answering shudder, couldn't help but let the initiative of Jo's touch overwhelm and disquiet her all at the same time. She could hear Jo gasp and lean into her even more, press her open mouth to the sensitive side of her neck and graze her teeth over the skin. Biting her and licking her enough where she knew it would leave a large mark in the morning. Jo had made it impossible for her to reciprocate the feeling, made it so there was no room for her arms to join them in between their bodies. Her fingers now gliding through the white hair that looked silvery in the small light filtering through the curtains. The motions of Jo's finger in her, pushing in as deep as it could go, before slipping out and resuming cadence with her own answering hips. She fought back the cry in her throat, thought fleetingly that this wasn't something they should be doing, because it felt like Jo was hiding behind it. Using it as a cover, when sex should be sex and nothing more, but a connection, and sweetness and love. She was practically throbbing around the finger in her. Couldn't help but pull Jo's short hair a little and shut her eyes to the ache Jo's touch called in her and the feel of lips latched onto her pulse point. Her legs tightened around Jo's sides when she felt Jo's other hand slip down their bodies and touch her clit. The dual sensation overriding any type of restraint, as she lost the purchase on Jo's hair and ended up clawing at the skin on her shoulders. "Jo...harder." She wanted the finger inside of her to stop the throbbing, to halt her light-headedness and her helplessness. Jo was rubbing her clit faster than the finger inside of her and Meg crushed them together even more, regardless if this made it harder for Jo to work her. She could feel Jo's nipples through her shirt, made sure she squirmed and moved her stomach over them, so Jo didn't forget that this wasn't a one-way street. Jo was shoving two fingers in her, the copious amount of wetness between her legs making it possible for them to slide in and slide out without any trouble. It hit a spot between her legs that made her tremble and bite her lip on accident. She breathed in, smelling the scent of sex rise between them, the smell making her mouth remember the taste of Jo, the wetness, the trembling. "Uhhh...I...love you." She spasmed, her body shaking with enough force to make the other girl shake along with her, as she released and tried to stay alive from the overload of stimulus. When she'd finished, her eyes were watering and the saliva in her mouth felt like it was running down one side of her lips. It probably was. She probably looked a mess. But the haze of her orgasm had her fainting back into her pillow, uncomprehending of anything except the soft down suddenly under her neck, Jo's warm groans in her ear and the blissful feeling of completion between her legs. She knew this wasn't right. That what she'd done in the throes of passion and her own desperation had made her neglect Jo's psychological state. She knew it wasn't fair that Jo would use such methods on her to keep her quiet and satisfied. It kind of hurt her feelings. It kind of made her mad. And it kind of made her want to close her eyes and sleep the day away tomorrow. It also hadn't escaped her what she had whispered during her throes of passion and hopefully Jo, who was nestling down beside her and nuzzling into her shoulder, seeming completely oblivious. She loved Jo. She was in love with Jo. She didn't know how many other ways she could express this deep emotion that bound the two of them together. She wanted to tell Jo and she had just told her, but it hadn't seemed profound enough to settle the uneasy coil in her stomach. Jo was her everything. She wanted to express that without the burning, scalding, terrifying, beautiful feeling of sex driving her to shout the words. Because she knew she could say those three words without it. That she could say it to Jo, proudly and content and despite the fluttery, embarrassed emotion that could follow if Jo didn't say those words back. It would hurt. It would make her want to cry. But even if Jo never said those words, she knew that what they shared was love. If Jo never said those words, it didn't mean that her world was ending. That nothing would be the same. Jo was just the sort of person, who didn't need to say those words back. She might not even understand the emotion, much less know it existed out there and they partook of it on a daily basis. But that didn't matter, because what she felt for Jo, what she knew existed between them was enough, was the only thing that mattered. Even if for eternity, she whispered those words and they were never in return, whispered back.
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