Loved the way I am

E'Duwag Honrinar Ssykes smoothed back his short slicked ta'atu and templed his fingers before him. His office was beyond extravagant, designed to impress and intimidate in equal measure. But nothing was more daunting than his dark green eyes, which, even through the communications window, seemed to burn right through to the round-shouldered man on the other side. "Nano-mimetic gel is an extremely dangerous compound," E'Duwag said coldly. "It is strictly controlled by Alliance military and not for sale at any price."

Before the man could respond, the window closed. E'Duwag leaned forward and coolly lit a cigar. He tapped a rune and the air came alive with an aetheric humm, ensuring that no recordings could be made.

"There, that ought to do it," he said, blowing some of the blue antiseptic smoke into the air. "Bury that conversation in the archives where some overzealous detective will find it only after a painstaking search, then handle the sale of the gel."

"Yes sir," Thuquan said from where he stood by the entrance. "What about your daughter?"

"Stop calling her that!" he said, growing angry. E'Duwag looked at the spinning holo-image on his desk of Cha'Rolette as a young child, her eyes wide and innocent.

His face became a scowl, and he grabbed the projector and threw it into the waste bin.

"My daughter is dead," he said, taking another long draw on his cigar.

Thuquan shifted his weight. "Fine, but you should know that Cha'Rolette has done very good work setting up the paper trail for the 'accident,' I doubt even the Obsidian Council will realize that the gel was never in there."

"So, what do you want from me? We've spent millions on her private tutors, personal trainers, the highest quality crystronics. Of course we will see results after such a costly investment in her."

"It's more than that, sir. She works twice as hard as she has to. She does it for you."

E'Duwag turned away, his face darkening. "I know. That is the problem."

* * *

Gerald opened his eyes as the bandages were removed from his face.

"Hey, welcome back to the land of the living," Dr. Klatta greeted, blowing a puff of blue smoke into Gerald's face.

Gerald reached up fearfully. He remembered burning, his skin sizzling, then sloughing off in sickly charred chunks. When his bandaged hand touched his cheek, he found fresh skin where burnt flesh had been before. He could still feel the searing pain.

"Yep, amazingly the skin grafts took, although there was some permanent nerve damage. After our last encounter, I wasn't sure if anything would work on you. We had an office pool as to whether or not you would survive. I lost."

"My staff?"

Dr. Klatta held up a scaly hand. "They're fine, I sent them home already. Their personal fields protected them from the worst of the blast. You, on the other hand, are extremely fortunate. If that Zurinite hadn't shielded you, you'd be a pile of ash on this table right now."

"Is she okay?"

Dr. Klatta motioned over to a blue tank where Zurra floated inside. Her black skorched form slowly rose and fell like a scab inside of a lava-lamp, cracked burn marks crisscrossed across her form.

"She's lucky to be alive at all. Zurinites are particularly vulnerable to fire."

Gerald leaned back, relieved. He could still feel the flame on his arms and back. He reached up and coddled the freshly grafted skin on his wrist. It hurt, but he pushed past it. "I'm glad she is okay. It was her fault to begin with, but I'm glad she's okay."

Dr. Klatta sat back and put his feet up on a jar, a human brain floating in it. "They're sure to expel the demon after this, or at least find a way to get rid of her. That's just how these things work."

Gerald looked at the jar. "Is... that my brain?"

"This? Oh, yes. We've been using it as a coffee table."

The door flew open and Cha'Rolette flew in.

"Leave," she ordered, her ta'atu glowing, and everyone obediently cleared the room.

She floated over to Gerald, concern on her face. "I came as quickly as I heard."

"I missed the ribbon cutting, didn't I?"

She tried to take his hand, but he flinched in pain beneath the bandages. "Don't worry about that. I filled in for you, and we had enough footage from last night to splice together a press packet to give to the media."

Gerald leaned back. In spite of the fact that the skin on his neck was new, it still felt like it was burning. "Always about the job, isn't it?"

"I know you can't access your external memory, but you should know that it is filling up with adoption inquiries. The footage of you with the kids is already going viral."

Gerald smiled, even though it hurt to do so. "So long as the kids get adopted, that is all that matters."

Cha'Rolette put her hand over her mouth. She couldn't stand to see him in so much pain. "I'm going to add a security detail to your staff. I should never have allowed this to happen. That Trahzi is..."

Gerald held up his bandaged hand. "No, no more staff. It's time to end this, Duchess."

"End what?"

"Please, we both know exactly what is going on here."

She feigned innocence. "Well, yes, I am training you up for the job you have accepted. Your duties..."

"I don't mind preforming my duties. What I mind is you training me up to be the kind of man you prefer."

"Oh please, don't flatter yourself. I am simply trying to look out for my employee. Women in the Alliance prefer a man who is well-groomed, skilled, studied, assertive, well-spoken, aggressive..."

Gerald reached up and tapped his bandaged head. "But I don't care what women want."

"And that is your problem. If you don't pay attention to what women want, then they won't take any interest in you."

Gerald threw his head back. The pain was making it hard to control his temper. "Holy crap! Are you deaf? You can read minds but you can't understand a simple sentence! Listen to me: I don't want to attract a woman."

His outburst surprised her. "But... you should."

"Why? Because women want me to? I don't care what they think. I choose my own path, I hurt nobody but myself. What gives them the right to dictate to me how I live my life?"

Cha'Rolette flicked a ringlet over her shoulder. "Because it is for the greater good. Society requires that men..."

"Oh, so now the cut-throat industrialist is going to tell me that I should do something for the common good? Please, spare me the hypocrisy of that."

Despite the pain, he clenched his fist in anger. "Alliance society says it is my duty to work sixty hours a week for the rest of my life, so I can go home to kids that don't know me, and a wife that will divorce me and leave me in poverty. Well, you know what I ask? I ask what is in it for me? And do you know what society's answer is? Nothing. That is what I get out of it. Nothing. I'm just supposed to do it because they say I am. So, I am opting out of a system that holds no benefit for me. I have chosen the life of a priest. That is my focus. You can dance around this all you want, but we're just circling over the same point over and over again, Duchess. Women want me to act in a way they approve of, but I don't need or seek their approval."

Cha'Rolette seemed hurt. "I... I don't believe you. I have seen the way you look at me when you think no one can see you. You try to hide it, but you can't hide it from me. Your problem is that you lack confidence. You don't believe that you can win a girl over, so you don't try, and you fool yourself into thinking that you don't want her in the first place. Someone just needs to help you gain the confidence you need to push past a woman's hesitation and make her yours."

She reached out and placed her hand against the hard muscles of his chest. "If you really don't care, then why is your heart beating so fast right now?"

Gerald tried to reign in his temper. "The way I look at you? I thought this wasn't about you?"

She looked away, unable to meet his gaze. "It... it isn't."

He reached up to finger his necklace, only to find that it wasn't there. It had been incinerated by the blast. He said a prayer to calm himself. It didn't work.

"I know what you want, Duchess."

"Please, as if you could know what I want."

Threatened, she turned to leave.

"You want to be accepted for who you are. Who you really are."

She froze.

"You want to be loved, faults and all, weaknesses and all, shortcomings and all, mistakes and all. You want to be cherished unconditionally, by someone who understands exactly who you are, without requiring that you change to suit him."

Slowly she turned around and looked at him. Her eyes were swimming, her hands held tight over her chest.

"Yes, she admitted. That is what I want."

Gerald looked at her softly, his eyes full of sympathy. "How can you want those things, and yet expect me to change?"

She stepped back, as if pierced by an arrow. Her eyes went wide with realization. Her arms and legs pulled tightly together, as if she were in pain.

Gerald looked at her sincerely. "Don't you think I would want the same thing as you do?"

The question hit her like a ton of bricks. Her legs lost their strength and she fell to her knees.

"But... but... these tutors, these instructors. It is required of everyone in my world. Everyone has them. I've had handlers since I was..."

"And did you like it?"

"What?" She asked distantly.

"Did you like being molded and shaped into something you were not?"

She shook her head. "It doesn't matter, what matters is the family legacy..."

"Stop hiding behind your family crest!"

"...what matters is my duty..."

"Stop dodging!"

"...what matters is my station..."

"Stop deflecting! Just, tell me what you think."

She sat there, immobile on the floor, at war within herself. Her ta'atu writhed about in agony. "I... shouldn't... I... I can't."

Despite the pain, Gerald pulled himself to his feet. The monitor pads yanked off of him as he walked over to her. He trembled as he dropped to his knees and took her hand gently in his.

He looked deeply into her eyes and gave her comfort. "I don't want to know what the Duchess thinks. I don't want to hear what Cha'Rolette Ssykes is supposed to say. I want to know what you think. You. Did you like being molded?"

She looked up at him, tears forming in the corners of her eyes. No, she answered honestly. "I hated it. I hated every minute of it. And, I hate what they turned me into."

Cha'Rolette shot up straight and strangled her ta'atu, as if she couldn't believe what had just come out of her.

"No," Gerald said, easing her hands down. "Don't try to deny your own feelings. If that is what you feel, then let it be said."

"But... to speak ill of my family to an outsider... my father would..."

Gerald reached out and held her close. "I'm not an outsider, I'm your friend."

As he cradled her head against his chest, she struggled within herself.

"But... if it ever got back to him that I had said..."

"It won't. I promise. You can trust me."

Her eyes half-closed, and she eased into his strong arms. "I can, can't I?"

Despite his injuries, he rocked her slowly back and forth. She closed her eyes the rest of the way, and tears formed. She seemed so frail now. Normally she was this monumental legendary thing, but at that moment, on the cold floor of the recovery room, she was as small and delicate as glass. For the next hour he held her as she cried quietly into his chest.

"I hate that I've become just like him..."