Cacopheny crouched in the darkness, hugging his bare knees and staring at Akija's sleeping face. She lay on her stomach, sprawled out and with her head turned, completely by chance, towards him, rather than towards the wall. The curtains on the window were open, shifting gently in the warm breeze, and faint moonlight peeked in through them, providing enough illumination that, for someone like Cacopheny, it was like day in the dark room.

The shadows were silent. It wasn't the silence of absence, but rather the silence of waiting, watching, and listening. They were still there, in the back of his mind, but they weren't going to interfere. He'd convinced them, somehow, that this was something he should do, alone. They'd decided it was his right, not anyone else's, to take this step-- take this risk. He wasn't sure what he'd do if they demanded their turn, later, but he'd deal with that when it happened. For now, he wasn't to be bothered, but there was no way they would be so kind as to give him true privacy.

But then, he'd never had true privacy, so he hadn't really expected it.

He'd been crouched there, in the dark, watching her sleep, for a long time now. He wondered, now, again, if he wasn't just too much of a coward. He'd wanted this... for a long time. He'd thought long and hard, poking and prodding in his thoughts, about this. It wasn't like before, with Her-- with... with Rao; he had to give her a name, everyone said so-- not like with Her, at all. There was no hate, for he could never hate Akija, because all she wanted of him was for him to be himself and be happy. If he'd never learned how to read or started learning to work his magic, she wouldn't have cared. If he remained fractured, insane, and shadow-tortured for all of his life, all she would want was for him to have peace, not necessarily to change. It was such a wonderful feeling, to just be accepted.

As for love.... Well, he'd considered whether there might be love, but when he compared the comfortable thing he felt for Akija-- only uncomfortable in the situation, not the actual feeling-- to the all-encompassing, fearful adoration he'd known with Her, there was no comparison. He couldn't even imagine Akija wanting such a thing from him, even though She-- Rao-- had demanded it. So, there was no love, either. No hate, no love, and, he guessed, no blood, either-- which was fine with him. He'd lost his taste for being hurt... if he'd ever had one.

No hate, no love, and no blood. No demon and no day. There was only liking, safety, acceptance, and want.

But he'd never taken this step-- this risk-- before, despite that. He'd never taken this step because... he'd never taken this step. Not with Her, never with Her. She-- Rao-- wanted him when She wanted him. It hadn't been his place to want, to ask, to initiate, even if he'd wanted to. Which, more often than not, he hadn't wanted. Even if he had, he had only been allowed to wait.

But she wasn't like Her. Like Rao. She didn't love or hate him, she didn't hurt and heal him, she didn't want him to be anything except himself.

And he had waited for years, now. Years. Surely that was long enough. Waited for some sign, some indication, some invitation-- there had been nothing. Maybe she was different from Her-- from... Rao-- in that way, too. Maybe she wanted the wanting, the asking, the initiating, the way Rao never had. That thought, that hope, had made him ask others what someone like her might want from him over the past months, slowly piecing things together and mulling over them. It had led him to think, long and hard, about what could be different between someone like her and someone like-- like who he was used to. It has led him to examine, very carefully, what he felt.

It had brought him up to her room for four nights in a row, now, gathering up the courage to touch her, speak to her, crawl up onto that bed with her.

Yet his arms remained firmly wrapped around his legs, clasped and held to them so he couldn't tremble, and only his eyes touched her. It had been years. He knew, now, that beds were for sleeping, even though he didn't think he would ever be able to bring himself to sleep in one. But beds could also be for other things, things he could bring himself to use them for.

And it had been years. Years.

And yet he'd never dared.

Never dared.

Never.

He carefully unclasped one hand from his arm, unwrapping it from around himself, and slowly, hesitantly, stretched it out. He paused, fingers an inch from the sheets-- the blankets she had thrown back sometime in her sleep, disdaining them in the heat-- and, ever so carefully, laid them there.

Nothing between the bed itself and his skin but a thin sheet of cloth.

Nothing between himself and Akija except that thin sheet of cloth, and a little more than the length of his arm.

For a moment, memory nearly overwhelmed him. Love, hate, pain, pleasure, all of it warped into a familiar, terrible, wonderful whole. It was so dark, so alien to this place and this want, it nearly sent him darting back, seeking a shadow, seeking the safety and cowardice of his own, bedless room. He shuddered once, twice, eyes fixed firmly on Akija's face, afraid to look away lest he lose his nerve. Again.

He fought back memory, fought back fear, and after a moment he could breathe again. It was better than he'd managed, these past nights. First, he had not even dared touch the bed, and only stared, for hours, while shadows slowly grew impatient, whispered to him, growled at him, shouted at him, taunted him from everywhere, so that he had been honestly surprised that Akija had not heard them and woken. Second, he had merely touched a blanket, and immediately fled to wallow in nightmare until well after dawn. Third had been the same. Fourth he had held out for several whole minutes before it simply became too much and he'd again had to retreat. Now, on his fifth night daring Akija's chambers after dark, he had defeated memory-- had, in some small way, defeated Her-- but he had not yet defeated his cowardice and woken her.

Would fifth survive the waking?

You'll never know until you try....

Tiger's whisper was the first the shadows had said since he had taken the shadow-road from the room below. And he was right.

The worst that could happen was that she wouldn't want, right? Akija would never hurt him, had never even hinted that she would hurt him. Unless she didn't mean to, by not wanting.

But he'd never know until he tried.

He uncurled, kneeling beside the bed, one hand still resting uncertainly against it. There was nothing to fear, here. He reminded himself of that. Nothing to fear, no demon to take him, no blood and love and hate. Just Akija, and her bed. And him.

He brushed her cheek with his fingertips.

... and, anti-climactically, Akija did not wake up. All she did was sigh, just a little, and flick an ear. Cacopheny blinked at her a moment, fingers resting against her furry jaw, briefly off-balance. He'd expected her to wake up.

Which, now that he thought about it, was stupid of him. She always slept soundly. So he'd just have to try again. Unable to help a tiny smile, despite his own tension, he tickled at the flicked ear with the tip of one claw. She gave a little twitch of her head towards his hand, then slurred something he couldn't make heads or tails of. "Fifeminnit," it sounded like. For a long moment, he just crouched there, staring at her with his heart thudding far louder than he thought it should have, trying to hold absolutely still but not quite managing it: he finally put his hand down against her neck rather than let it flutter, trembling, against her ear. It was warm there.

Tiger, just as puzzled as he was, suggested, Well, climb up there with her? That might wake her up.

Go up there? he thought back incredulously. Without her permission?

She's not awake enough to give permission. And it's not like she'll hurt you or anything, even if she doesn't like it.

Not on purpose, anyway, another one suggested darkly from under the bed, making him jump and very nearly yank his hand away.

Shut up, Tiger snapped before he could, and the stray shadow fell silent. Go on, mutt. See what happens.

Swallowing heavily, he let his hand slide down from neck, over jaw and out-flung arm, and then back onto the rumpled sheets. Wordless encouragement came from somewhere, one or two of the shadows, and he uncurled slowly and haltingly to lever himself, even more slowly and haltingly, up to sit on the very edge of the bed. He sat there, poised for flight with his eyes fixed on Akija's face and breath held, for a long moment before he got a reaction.

She opened one eye just a crack and muttered, " ... zuh?"

Cacopheny slid off the bed and back onto the floor with an almost inaudible thump, shadows screaming in his ears, and stared at her for another moment before he summed the situation up to himself, very quietly: "This isn't going to work." Not like this, not now-- he'd been so stupid to come when she was asleep. Yes, he would be "safe" if he ran away, because she'd never know, but when he managed to screw up his courage and not run away, there was no point in staying.

She wouldn't have liked you watching her sleep, either, a shadow hissed at him.

Stupid, stupid, stupid.

Can't even do a little thing like sex right, can you?

Worthless mutt, she probably doesn't even want you.

Messed up again.

Failure!

Shut up! Tiger roared-- and they did. He continued, a little more gently-- Tiger? Gently? Just try again later, when she is awake, he said into the mental silence, stopping Cacopheny before he simply disappeared entirely. You know you've got the courage, so just try it again.

But--

No buts.

"You're just dreaming, beautiful," the shadow said, leaning them all over to kiss Akija's forehead. "Don't worry about it."

When he sat back again, Akija's eye was closed again. "M'kay," she murmured.

Cacopheny was too dispirited to protest as Tiger drew them back into a shadow and down to their own room. At least he knew better than to try and make him sleep: he turned on the shower and let him stand under the cold water for a while before even bothering him again.

Promise me you'll try again later.

"I don't have to promise you anything," he grumbled, in control of his own voice again.

You do if you don't want me to do it, instead.

"You wouldn't."

You know I will.

And because he knew he would-- his mind immediately filled with images and sounds of Tiger doing just that, while he, himself, was forced to watch helplessly-- he muttered, "All right, all right, I promise."

Good. Now go to sleep, already. I'm getting cold.

"Yes, mother."

Watch your mouth, mutt. You know what we can do to you.

Where'd you pick that up, anyway? Chario?

Cacopheny just growled a little and slammed the shower back to hot, letting them pick at him while he tried to relax enough to finally get some sleep.