Free Kidnapped by Maria Hammarblad Page A

later.
    They were soon walking side by side through the ship, and about half way to the bridge, he surprised them both with stopping and pulling her into his arms, kissing her hungrily. The intensity of these feelings frightened him. He had spent his entire life without feeling and without being allowed to want anything for himself, and now the need for her was overwhelming. He knew they should be leaving, they didn't have the time for this, but when he finally managed to pull back he still stared into her eyes for a long moment, mumbling, "I've been wanting to do that all day."
    She smiled and held her arms loosely around his neck, teasing him, "Is that all you want to do?"
    Shaking his head, he wondered how he would ever be able to live without her again, and decided to worry about it later. "No, but we have to get going."
    When they eventually entered hyperspace, on a course meant to almost intersect with the Redeemer, Patricia climbed up in his lap, and he had all the trouble in the world not to start tearing at her clothes. He forced the urge down, held her carefully with his partly mechanical limb and ran his own hand over her hair. Feeling her relax in his arms was rewarding.
    After a few minutes in silence, Patricia asked, "Don't you ever pay for anything?"
    He chuckled softly, "No. No, I don't. It's not the way of the Alliance, and even if you want me to, I can't start now. Everyone would remember it, and talk about it."
    She didn't say anything more, but he felt her sigh. He wanted to say something to comfort her, but nothing came to mind. He had never received comfort and didn't know how to give it. Her next question made it worse. "How many people have you killed?"
    He answered honestly and hoped for the best. "I have no idea. Many."
     
    *****
     
    Patricia took a deep breath. The answer ‘many' wasn't exactly what she wanted to hear when asking a lover how many people had died at his hands. It was ironic that the only thing comforting her was clinging to the very man who sometimes still frightened her.
    There weren't many questions left to ask, at least not if she didn't count the ones best unsaid, like, "what's going to happen to us." There was one thing she really wanted to know, something she had wondered since she first saw him, and after watching space fly by outside the bridge windows for a few moments she did venture, "What happened to your face?"
    Travis didn't answer at first, and she bit her lip, wondering if she'd gone too far with that one. He didn't seem to have a problem talking about most of the sordid details of his life, but maybe this was too personal. After a couple of seconds, he said evenly, "I was following William's men into a building, much like the one that landed on you the other day. It was a communications station. They forward and encrypt transmissions between ships and Central. Vasiliy, that's William's explosives expert, had set charges to blow it up."
    He paused for a second, "I surprised them. They had no idea I was coming. I was a little too slow, and when Vasiliy saw me, he set off the charge and teleported out of there. It should have killed me, but it didn't. Veronica allowed the medics to heal my side, but she wanted me to keep the face as a reminder to be faster the next time."
    He had scars everywhere, but none as visible, and now it all started to make sense to her. He'd had a more hard and painful life than she could imagine. She shuddered a little, thinking his was a cruel world indeed, and moved around enough to be able to look at him.
    A part of his face was so handsome to her, especially now when life had returned to his eyes. The other part of it was a ruined alien landscape made up of scars where shrapnel had cut it open, combined with rough, dark, and burned tissue. She said softly, "I'm so sorry."
    He shrugged and made a little grimace, "It's not your fault. I don't know how you stand looking at it."
    There were many things still to be said, but only one she