Padma had slept blissfully through the whole affair because she wasn't yet cleared for monster duty. She was bright-eyed and bushy-tailed that morning for our training session, while I was tired and grouchy. Wizzit had fixed up all my aches and bruises after we got back, but a healing coma doesn't replace lost sleep.
"Trevor," she asked with an engaging smile after we had warmed up, "do you think we could try free-fighting today morning? I really think I could beat you today."
I shrugged and mumbled, "Sure." To be honest, I didn't feel like going through the whole training regimen with her, so free-fighting sounded like a good idea.
I could tell as soon as we began, though, that it was going to be a rough session. Padma was really on her game, and she knew it. She kept pushing me back the whole time, trying to pin me against one of the walls. I just circled around, staying in the center of the room as much as I could, and conserved my energy by simply blocking her attacks without trying much of anything myself.
We did this little dance for a while, and I saw her getting more and more frustrated by my evasion tactics. I really didn't care; I was dog-tired. Then her face got this determined look on it, and she started attacking me harder, going for close-in hand attacks instead of the more long-range foot stuff. I backed away from her, but every time I tried to circle around, she moved to cut me off and tried harder to push me back. No matter what I did, she simply refused to back off. Good technique, but it was more than a little annoying.
After several minutes of this, I had had enough. My back was literally against the wall, and -- I'll admit it -- I broke one of the cardinal rules of free-fighting. I lost my temper. Padma saw an opening and tried to close with me, and I retaliated with a hard backwheel kick.
A backwheel kick, in case you don't recognize the name, is one where you spin your body around and your leg kicks straight out in a full circle, heel first. It's a powerful attack, because of the force from spinning around and the way you're basically using your whole leg as a club. In free-fighting, you can use it to clear the area around you and give yourself some breathing room; even a yellow belt knows you should always dodge a backwheel, because trying to block it is a good way to get your arm broken. Well, guess what? Padma tried to block it.
I felt the bone snap even as I tried to pull back on my kick. She immediately fell to the ground with a cry of pain, clutching at her arm. I dropped to her side, swearing under my breath as I did so.
I was mad at myself, naturally, not at her. Sure, a backwheel kick is a legitimate move, and trying to block it with her forearm had been a bone-headed stunt on Padma's part, but the whole free-fight was my responsibility. I was the higher-ranked, more experienced belt, and I was the one who had lost my temper and kicked harder than I should have.
"It's going to be all right, Padma," I said, trying to calm her down. I guessed she had never really been injured before, because her crying sounded a little hysterical. "Let me see your arm."
I went through the whole diagnostic bit, having her try to twist her wrist around and wiggle her fingers. There was definitely a break, although it was nowhere near as bad as Lily's had been. It wouldn't even need setting. I've had a bit of experience setting broken bones, but it's not something I look forward to doing.
"All right," I said soothingly, "let's go back to your room and we'll take care of it. That's where your belt is, right?" She nodded. "Can you walk?"
"Y-yes," she said weakly, "I think so."
She made a brave effort at it, but she was so rubber-legged that I eventually just scooped her up in my arms. "Take it easy," I said. "Everything's going to be okay."
Totally inappropriate, I know, but when she laid her head against my shoulder, closed her eyes, and whispered, "Thank you, Trevor," my heart started thumping just a little harder in my chest. Nothing like holding a helpless female in your arms to get that ol' masculine protective instinct going, eh?
Ordinarily, nothing gets Wizzit's attention faster than an injured Prime. Unfortunately, Padma wasn't wearing her Prime Violet belt, so he couldn't actually tell she was hurt at this point. "Wizzit," I called out as I strode through the hallway, "Padma's arm is broken. I'm taking her to her room to get her belt on. She'll be ready for a healing coma soon after that."
"You've broken my new Prime Violet already?" came his dismayed voice from the ceiling.
"Just a training accident," I replied calmly. "Nothing too bad."
Trina was in the common room sipping at a cup of tea and studying a sketchpad in her lap. Most of the others were probably trying to catch up on their sleep, but Trina doesn't seem to need as much as the rest of us. As soon as she saw me carrying Pamda, she hurriedly set the cup down and ran down the hall ahead of us. "Padma," I said when we reached her room, "I can't open your door. You'll have touch it yourself, or you can just say 'door open.'"
"Door open," she murmured without opening her eyes.
Didn't work. "Say it a little louder," I encouraged her.
"Door open!"
That did the trick. I carried her inside and laid her on her bed. "Now, tell me where your Prime Violet belt is."
"In the top left drawer of the dresser, with my underwear."
Trina almost laughed out loud at the desperate look I gave her, but she retrieved the belt, and the two of us sat Padma up and fastened it around her waist. Then I laid her back down and smoothed her hair away from her face. "You have to touch the buckle to seal it," I told her, "and then say 'Prime Violet activate' to start up your force shield."
Padma sealed the buckle, but her "Prime Violet activate" was less than a whisper. She was starting to tremble all over, and I thought she might be going into shock. Didn't matter; all that mattered was getting her to say the words so that Wizzit could initiate the healing coma. "Say it again, Padma. Louder."
Barely above a whisper: "Prime Violet activate."
Still didn't work. I could have tried to have her tap out the coded pattern on the buckle that lets us activate the force shield silently, but I didn't think she would be up to learning it at this point. "Padma, Wizzit can't hear you. Say it again, louder."
"Prime Violet activate!"
That worked. In less than a second, her hand took on the faintly slippery feel that told me that there was now a force shield between my skin and hers. "Just rest now," I told her quietly. "Wizzit's going to induce a healing coma. You've seen him do this to us before. It's going to make you feel very sleepy, and when you wake up, your arm will be fine. Trina and I are here in the room with you. Do you want us to leave?"
Her hand tightened around mine. "No, stay, please! Both of you."
Hmm. I hadn't thought Padma would want me to stay; in fact, I had hoped to go back to bed. I had asked her mainly out of courtesy, to give her the impression that she was the one who had sent us away.
I looked up at Trina and mouthed, "Sorry." She shrugged. She had brought her sketchpad with her, and now she settled herself in her chair, pulled out a pencil from somewhere in her hair, and began to draw.
Fine. At least she had something to keep herself occupied. I was stuck here with nothing to do. Granted, I was stuck in a room with two very attractive young women, but one of them was half out of her mind in a healing coma, and the other was soon in her own world of light and shadow and lines on paper.
I looked around the room. Padma had given it a distinctly feminine touch, which was nice, although it was a little too cutesy for my taste. She seemed to have a penchant for Hello Kitty -- slippers, a few figurines, even a Hello Kitty screensaver on her computer screen. I saw a small statuette of an elephant-headed man on her dresser, which I vaguely recognized as Ganesha, the Hindu God of Luck or something like that.
Having nothing better to do, I watched Padma for a while, but looking at even a pretty girl who's half-asleep can get boring after a while, so I eventually turned my attention to Trina
. I like to watch her when she's sketching, anyway.
Trina can be a lot of fun to talk to when she's playing the role of the beautiful blonde bombshell, but everyone knows it's just an act. In fact, the play-acting is part of what makes it fun, because there's no pressure to follow up. As far as I know, she has never gone out with any of the guy Primes, and outside of HQ her love life probably isn't much more exciting than mine. There's just no chance to meet anyone.
When she's drawing, though, she displays a whole different side to herself. She gets completely absorbed in what she's doing, so you can stare at her all day long and she'll never notice. The widening of the eyes when she suddenly gets an idea for how to approach a subject, the tiny frown when she's about to start erasing a mistake, the little satisfied nod when she's finally gotten it right -- all very cool to see. Completely un-self-conscious. Watching her sketch, I often get the impression that this is the real Trina.
I didn't get to look at her for long, though. She sketched for a few minutes without looking up, which told me she was doing it from some memory or other, but then she noticed me watching her. She frowned and pointed down at Padma with a sharp gesture. Almost silently she said, "Don't look at me. Look down at her!"
I hadn't realized I was the subject of her sketch. So, I looked down at Padma for what seemed like a long time, trying to stay awake. After a while I saw a smile creep over her face, and I wondered what pleasant thoughts were drifting through her head. She must have seen me through her half-closed eyelids, because her smile opened up a little more, displaying her white teeth, and she murmured, "You are cute, Trevor. Do you know that?"
Out of the corner of my eye, I saw Trina put a hand to her mouth, suppressing a giggle. Without turning my head, I looked over at her and grinned. Padma was babbling. That's what we called it, anyway, and we all did it sometimes during healing comas. It doesn't mean much; half the time, the person doesn't even remember saying anything. But that didn't mean I couldn't play along with her.
"You're cute, too," I assured her, giving her hand a little squeeze.
"And you are so strong!" she went on in that same dreamy voice. "When you held me in your arms, I felt so safe and secure." She stretched and took a long, slow, lazy breath, which had the effect of thrusting her chest towards me. "Do you want to know a secret?"
"Uh, sure." The room suddenly seemed a whole lot warmer than it had been. I glanced over at Trina again, but she was scribbling furiously on her pad, obviously caught up with some idea or other. No help there.
"If you had carried me to your room and laid me down on your bed instead," Padma whispered, closing her eyes, "I would not have objected." She moved her hand so that it was lying across her chest, which of course meant that my hand was doing pretty much the same thing. I couldn't feel much of anything because of the force shield, but her intent was clear.
"Uh, Padma," I began, "maybe you shouldn't . . ." but then her eyes suddenly opened and her force shield turned itself off; her healing coma had ended.
Padma's eyes grew wide as she realized the position we were in, and I guess my eyes got a little wider as well, once I realized that the cool slickness of the force shield had been replaced by the feel of warm flesh beneath my fingers. For a moment I thought she was going to start screaming bloody murder, but she didn't. Instead, she let go of my hand -- she practically flung it away, in fact -- and she said hurriedly, "Trevor, I -- I am so sorry! I didn't mean that . . ."
"D-don't worry about it," I stammered. For some reason, the tips of my fingers felt like they were burning. "Everybody says weird stuff during healing comas now and then. We call it babbling. Forget it. It doesn't mean anything."
Padma was sitting up now. "But . . . but I told you that I wanted you to . . . a-and then I put your hand on my . . . oh, dear!" Words seemed to fail her. Her face was so naturally dark that it was hard to tell, but I think she was blushing. I know I would have been.
"I don't think Trevor minded all that much," came Trina's amused comment, "to judge by the look on his face." She made one last mark on her sketchpad, gave her little satisfied nod, and said, "Done!"
"Forget it," I told Padma again, feeling more sure of myself now. "Like I said, everybody does it at one time or another, and when it happens, everybody else does their best to ignore it." I gave what I hoped was a reassuring grin. "When I was in my first healing coma, I remember very clearly telling Trina that I was in love with her and wanted to marry her. Afterwards, nobody else ever admitted hearing it, and it was never mentioned again."
Padma glanced over at Trina, and after a moment, so did I. "I have no idea what you're talking about, Trevor," Trina said with a smile. "That never happened." She followed that with a broad wink.
I think the wink reassured Padma as much as anything I said. I could see her relax visibly. She must have noticed the sketchpad in Trina's hand about then, because she asked, "Were you drawing us?"
Trina shrugged. "I was using the two of you as models," she admitted. "It was a very pretty scene, the way Trevor was holding your hand and looking down at you so concerned." She glanced casually at her sketch, then did a double-take. She frowned at it and murmured, "Oh my!"
"Let me take a look," I said, reaching out a hand. "I think I've earned it."
Trina stared at her sketch a moment longer, then looked at me. "I don't think that would be a good idea," she said. She seemed troubled by what she was seeing on the paper.
I grinned at her. "Why not? It's not . . . dirty, is it?" I asked, waggling my eyebrows meaningfully at her.
"Dirty?" For a moment she seemed confused by my colloquialism, but then her expression cleared. "Oh, I see what you mean. No, there's no nudity involved. It's just that . . ." She took another look at her sketch, then very deliberately flipped the cover over it and hugged it to her chest. "It isn't what I started out to draw, and I'm afraid seeing it might upset you."
"Upset me? Come on, Trina, you know me better than that. It takes a lot to upset me." I took hold of one corner of the pad and started tugging playfully at it.
She pulled it away. "Trevor, please don't. I really don't want you to see it."
The tone of her voice was so serious that I let go of the pad. "Oh. Uh, sure, no problem."
"I'm sorry," she said, slowly lowering the pad to her lap. She gave me an apologetic smile. "It's, um, it's not very good."
"Okay . . ."
"May I see it?" Padma asked uncertainly.
Trina hesitated, but then she nodded. "All right."
Padma slipped off her bed and went to lean over Trina's shoulder. She drew back in surprise as Trina flipped the cover over. "But that is not --"
"Shh!" Trina interrupted her, with a pointed glance at me. She spoke a few words in what sounded like French. After a few seconds, Padma replied in the same language, and then the two of them began nattering away, casting occasional glances my way.
I knew that Trina spoke French, but I hadn't realized that Padma did as well. Anyone who speaks multiple languages will tell you that it's impolite to switch languages to purposely exclude someone from a conversation, but at least they didn't point at me and giggle. Indeed, Trina seemed to be explaining something quite serious to Padma. I heard my name once or twice, but I couldn't make out anything else.
Annoyed, I got to my feet, but before I could smile and nod my way to a graceful exit, Trina stopped me with a hand on my arm. "I'm sorry, Trevor," she said, getting up herself. "That was unforgivably rude of me." She looked as though she might say more, but then she squeezed my arm, gave me a tight-lipped smile, and left the room, her sketchpad once more clutched tightly to her chest.
I turned to Padma, but she was on her feet and was very obviously ushering me out of her room. I took the hint, stopping at last minute to say, "I guess we'll get together tomorrow afternoon for some more training, then?"
She me
rely nodded without speaking and closed the door behind me.
Chapter 16