Page 74 of Collin: Episodes 13-15
“I’m not scared of Alice!” Ash whisper-wailed, “Why should I be afraid?”
“Well, if you’re not afraid of her, then perhaps you’re exactly the right kind of person for her to collect.” Collin picked up his tablet again.
“What does that mean?” Ash hissed.
Collin smirked. “Ash, my man, my sister just passed the ‘fuck around and find out’ phase at about a hundred and twenty miles an hour with a loaded gun. She’s ‘adopted’ a kid, and she’s becoming best friends with Hypatia, the non-fantasy modern-day version of a powerful sorceress. And she’s decided you’re one of her humans. Either your life is over or it’s just started.”
Ash blinked. “I know all those words. But I don’t know what those words mean together in that order.”
Routine was boring but also helpful. Collin felt like a baby, just waking up, eating, taking medication, sleeping, reading, sleeping, and eating. With lots and lots of hydration mixed in. His doms were doing the same. Physical affection was limited to finger touches. Even kissing was too painful to consider with all the swelling and contusions. Hugs were not to be contemplated except between Damian and Collin, and those were brief, one-arm affairs with very little pressing.
Affection took other forms. Passing each other the glass someone else couldn’t reach. Noting when someone’s snacks were low and asking someone else to fetch more. Sharing bits of humor from entertainment. Eventually, they started sharing favorite movies. Émeric contributed old episodes of Winnie-the-Pooh. Richard admitted to having a soft spot for a very old series about a sentient car called Herbie. Collin convinced them to try anime and just for fun made them watch Ranma 1/2, teasing Émeric that since it was so old and he was bisexual, it was the perfect place for him to start. Richard fell in love with the panda. Émeric tried to pretend he did not find that endearing.
Damian announced that if they were going to become saps then they had to watch a Korean drama with him. Richard agreed, Émeric groaned, and Collin was clueless. But they started watching something with four devastatingly handsome and troubled men and one delivery girl who was trying to pay for her mother’s burial site; only Damian’s whispered commentary kept him from being completely lost. He joined Émeric in pretending the guys should fall in love with each other. Then Damian reminded them that the men were supposedly all cousins. That kinda killed the fantasy. Collin crossed his fingers for them to discover they weren’t related.
If nothing else, they were able to share even when their bodies were forcibly being kept apart. And that mattered more than anything else.
Friday afternoon. Collin’s mother and her friend Theresa came for their daily visit a little after lunch. His mother had an antique replica brooch pinned to her coat, and she was wearing clothes he’d never seen before—slim-fitting pants, a silk shirt beneath a soft tunic-length wool sweater with a wide belt wrapped around her waist. Her hair was styled into something fresh and modern, and she’d painted her nails a soft blush. She’d brought Damian boba tea and delivered it to him in Mr. Reevesworth’s office, from which Damian was working several hours a day now as he did “able person duty” as Ellisandre termed it. For Émeric, she brought tea, dark coffee for Richard, and a mocha ice cream concoction in a cup for Collin.
She handed it to him in the relative privacy of the second sitting room, the one with all the windows. The foldout bed couch had not been replaced yet, but there were other chairs. Collin sat in one, and his mom sat beside him, both of them turned so they could look south over the city.
“I’m going to sell the house if you aren’t opposed,” she said over the brim of her own drink. It smelled like coffee and had whipped cream on top.
Collin paused mid-sip. He almost started with Are you sure? but stopped himself. He took another look at her and took in the haircut, the clothes, the brooch, and the coffee order that wasn’t a basic black with a dab of cream if she was feeling indulgent.
“I’m not opposed.”
“Then I’ll sell. Alice already agreed.”
“Where will you live?”
“An apartment, probably. Something small. Rented.” She shrugged, then shivered and cupped her drink with both hands, eyes on the horizon. “I’m going to travel: take visiting professorships, apply for international research. I’ve had offers; I just never accepted them. I’ll start over. I loved your father. And I still believe, I choose to believe, that he loved me. But he died. I’m not going to continue living in the mausoleum of our life together. I can carry him with me. I don’t have to be shackled by his ghost.”
“What about Grandma?”
Dr. Ryker lowered her drink into her lap and sat very still, very straight. “My mother and I have spoken for the last time. I won’t tell you what you should do, but she knew. This entire time, she knew who Mikhail was, what he did to Roald, what he planned to do to you and Alice as kids. I informed the proper authorities, and I said my goodbyes. I’m done. She was more interested in serving her husband than she was in being a mother, so now she no longer has a daughter.”
“Would it be presumptuous of me to say I’m proud of you, Mom?”
“I think every parent wants their children to be proud of them.” Dr. Ryker smiled.
“I’m proud of you.”
“I’ll send pictures.”
“Tell me where you’re going to be. I might be able to meet you.”
Dr. Ryker smiled, her eyes crinkling on the sides and lighting up from the inside in a way he’d never seen before.
Two weeks after Mikhail’s attack and Alice’s rescue of Dana, Paulsen, the police, and several of Reevesworth’s contacts in three-letter agencies agreed it was safe for Alice and Dana to come out of hiding. They arrived quietly in the city and settled in Hypatia and Matthew’s apartment as those were people Dana had come to know and trust.
Alice and Dana came to The Residency that evening. Collin met them at the door, his arm in a sling. He locked eyes with Alice, and they moved, just like that, no words, just two bodies drawn together in mutual relief. Alice put one arm behind his neck and pressed herself against his chest on his better side. The short ends of her hair brushed his face.
“I kept telling myself everything would be better when I could hear your heart beating,” she said.
“And is it?”
Alice stepped back, nodding. She looked good even with the short hair. She had new clothes, green cargo pants and a sweater under a wool jacket.
