He almost choked with shock. It couldn't have been that long-- Sentio shouldn't be back yet from classes-- none of the staff had dared knock on the door after he'd chased away that poor young man-- surely She wasn't this close!

Before panic could set in, he took a deep, shuddering breath, and listened. There was nothing coming from beyond that door, nothing at all. Not a shadow-voice, not a real voice, not the incomprehensible murmurings of a human's shadow, nothing. Confused, trying to be quiet even while panting breathlessly, he stared at the door. Had he imagined the sound? Crawling painfully forward, putting his ear to the crack between wood and wall, he thought he could at least make out breathing. So there really was someone there. Someone without a shadow, or without a voice in that shadow.

"Akizja?" he squeaked, terrified at the possibility. If she were here, if She knew she was here-- it didn't bear thinking about. Something smacked against the door on the other side, and he heard Akija's voice grumbling a single word, probably because she'd just hit something into the door. At the paired sounds, he scrambled back, wincing and stopping after only a few paces to lick at a deep cut in one arm. At least he hadn't been wearing anything during that frenzied few moments.

And still aren't.

Wonder what the girl will think.

Nothing at all! Nothing! Because I'm not letting her in!

Even though, for a nearly painful moment, he very much wanted to. He swallowed the impulse, took another slow, careful, ragged breath, and asked as calmly as he could, "Vat vas. Ssat? Akizja?"

She sneezed delicately, then answered, slightly muffled by the shut door, "That was my nose. Didn't think ya were right on th'other side of the door, there. Thought ya were maybe asleep, or sommat."

"No," he said vaguely, "not assleep." Though it might be nice to be asleep.

Not with what sleep's been like lately, one shadow-voice grumbled. He was right; sleep had been almost as stressful as being awake, for the past nights he could remember. As She had found him awake, so She found him asleep. Not for a long time had he thought he would dread being found by Her again, but now all he wanted was that freedom he'd resented and feared back.

Never happy, are you.

No, I suppose not....

But maybe you could be.

Not any way I know of, now.

"Vy?" he demanded suddenly. "Vy are you here?"

"Just t'say hi, 'n check on ya a little," she said with her usual nonchalance. "Don't get ta see ya too much, after all, with alla these days ya been takin' off lately. I know you gotcher reasons to an' all, so I thought: if Coffee can't come ta school, I'll go to Coffee!"

Still love that name. Coffee.

Doesn't that mean something?

Dunno. Might.

Shut. Up.

Sooo-rry. Geez.

Part of him felt guilty that he was hiding in his room, forcing Akija to come here if she wanted to see him, and part of him was terrified still that She was listening and would come storming down on them both with blood and pain, but another part of him was positively gleeful for the first time in days. She had come all this way just to talk to him, maybe see him if he let her. Not even She ever came anywhere just to talk to him and see him; She didn't talk all that often, at all, and usually She didn't want answers except, occasionally, to hear that She was in the right, no matter what She was talking about.

"I-- ssank you. Ssat. Ssat. I. I-- Ssank you."

"Oh, pfft," she chuckled warmly. "S'what a friend's for."

He could hear the smile in her voice, and he smiled, too.

By Her claws, She was right.

You're absolutely pathetic.

Wait till She finds out.

The gleeful part died and buried itself. He gulped. He didn't want to chase her away; what if she never came back? What if she decided he was too tricky to try and deal with, too unpredictable, too ungrateful? But if he didn't--

Shuddering a little, he drew his limbs under him again and crept closer to the door. "You. You. You zhoult not be here. Tantcherous, it is. I am. It is. Tantcherous. Not koot. Good. Not. Zhoult ko."

"Oh, I know, you've said so b'fore," she answered lightly. "Butcha can't avoid every little thing just cuz it might be risky an' dangerous."

A blink. For some reason, that didn't make sense. Why wouldn't one avoid something dangerous?

Think about it, mutt.

You don't avoid Her, and She's dangerous.

Maybe there's more to life than avoiding dangerous things.

But-- I don't know. I don't want her to be hurt. Is that wrong?

No one answered him, so after a few breaths, he decided that it must not be wrong. But if she didn't leave when he asked, what could he do? Chase her away, like he chased away that poor servant boy who'd innocently knocked on his door to ask if he needed anything? Maybe. He tensed, ignoring the pain of multiple cuts, trying to make himself move, to growl, to roar, to yank open the door and bombard her with darkness and fear. He twitched, he trembled, he ground his teeth, but he couldn't make himself do it, or do anything. With a frustrated, pained sigh, he slumped back onto the floor again.

"Please." The word came out whispered; he hoped she heard. "Akizja. I to not. To not vant to-- to-- please. Please ko. I-- to not vant. To see. You-- you-- please ko."

It sounded like he didn't want to see her, to his own ears. Which was a lie, and not really what he meant to say. But even if she did think that, at least she would leave and be safe. Maybe, if She left, he could apologize and see her again, but for now, it was too dangerous.

After a brief pause, he heard, "All right, I'll go." He nearly collapsed with relief; in fact, he might have, if he wasn't already almost as limp as he could get, on the ground. "But hey--" He saw a pair of fingers, a trio, all four but her thumb, wiggling under the door at him. Without even thinking about it, he stretched out his own and nearly touched them, stopping only when he remembered what he was doing and feared to touch her with claws instead of fingers. "Thanks fer talkin' to me at least this long."

It's not fair. I don't want this. I don't want-- I don't--

Poor, lost puppy.

Complaining in the dark of the unfairness of it all.

Being very careful to keep his claws away from her, he reached that extra inch and brushed her fingertips with his. Even the fingertips were furry. 

Claws. Akija's blood on his claws. A silent shadow completely still, not even a twitching tail. The image She had made for him sprang all too readily to mind and he yanked his hand back, scrambling away, hissing painfully as a cut here, a slash there, reopened and leaked down his skin. He trembled all over again. He needed a shower. He needed to sleep. He needed to curl up and cry for hours. He needed-- he didn't know what he needed, but it wasn't this.

"I'll be thinkin' 'boutcha," he heard, but the words were drowned out before he could appreciate them.

I know what you need, that hated, loved voice purred. He groaned and tried to cover his ears, but it wouldn't do any good. At least Akija was gone, was leaving, was hopefully heading out of the building by now. And it's not her.

"It's not-- like that," he managed through clenched teeth, praying to nothing or everything or anything out there that Akija couldn't hear, couldn't understand, was long gone and no longer thinking about him.

I don't care what it's like. You are mine, my pet, and that is what matters.

"I know," he moaned, shutting his eyes. "I know."