All Parties Involved

I knew it was unnatural for me to suffer performance anxiety, but I was unable to touch Lucrecia sexually for nearly a month. Every time I reached for her, I thought of her husband’s calm acceptance. I could have fucked her during anger towards him, or even manage to get it up when sad, but his approval made everything go tits up.

He’d taken the fun out of adultery.

It was hard for me to admit I’d enjoyed the idea of taking what belonged to another man. I didn’t think I could be so shallow. Really, I hadn’t even understood that about myself. It humbled me. I’d believed myself held to better standards than that.

It became especially painful when I watched them working together. I’d missed how Hojo really felt about his wife. I’d focused only upon her, ignoring him. Now, I couldn’t. He made it impossible.

He touched her. He smiled at her. His black, cold eyes warmed instantly when she turned her attention to him. He never treated her like anything less than a queen. Yet, he didn’t put her on a pedestal like I did. They frequently had heated scientific discussions, and I couldn’t understand one word in six when they started in on each other. Still, even while they viciously cut down each other’s theories, their eyes sparkled with enjoyment. They got off on each other’s brains.

I felt adrift. Nothing helped. Lucrecia seemed to comprehend I was going through some sort of personal crisis, and she made every allowance, but even her understanding didn’t help much. She was part of the problem. I was seeing her through different eyes, seeing that I’d never be more important to her than I was right now.

It should have hurt. It should have hurt like hell, but I felt a bizarre sort of contentment in knowing her husband did care about her. His love for her took a neat half of my burden away. In a strange way, he was my partner in looking after her. Or, I was his. I was the intruder.

I watched him busily typing away on his computer keyboard, saw for the millionth time his hand come up and correct the angle of his glasses. He’d exchanged the round lenses for longer, rectangular lenses which suited his face much more. But, the nosepiece gave him trouble. Those glasses slid down when he worked, and he’d jam them at the top of his elegant nose. I could see they pained him, but I rather thought I was the only one who really understood he was in pain. He didn’t pay any attention.

He really didn’t pay much mind to anything besides science and Lucrecia. I saw that after my second week of watching he and his wife interact. He didn’t care that his bangs, glossy, slick with health, blue-black and long, dropped in his eyes after a few moments no matter how he secured his sleek mane. He didn’t know he was allergic to the dry cleaning chemicals that impregnated his lab coats, didn’t comprehend he was even scratching at his arms. When Lucrecia brought him food, he’d eat it without ever showing a flicker of appreciation. Oh, he’d thank her, and warmly, but he didn’t actually taste anything.

I wondered what it would take to make him focus on something other than his work. I kept thinking about how he’d said he wouldn’t find it repugnant if I fucked him. And, reluctantly, I wondered if I could distract him from science. I wondered if Lucrecia and I together would be enough to bring him down to a physical level. He barely even noticed if he got hurt. I’d seen him fall prey to some terrible accidents these last few months, one of which obviously broke a few ribs, yet he never so much as grunted in pain no matter how the blood flew or the skin bruised. In fact, I’d watched him stitch a gash in his arm last month, no anesthetic and no expression.

But, Lucrecia had this same sort of clumsy bloodlessness. I’d seen her burn herself on the tea kettle, or slam her fingers in a door, then laugh and shake it off. Her hand had been blistered only a short while; her fingers had been broken even a shorter time. At the time I’d chalked the healing up to mako exposure, but I hadn’t wondered why she didn’t scream and cry at pain. Now, I understood. She and her husband were too busy to feel pain. They made time for pleasure, but nothing else.

I admired that. I couldn’t be that way. I could endure great, overwhelming pain if I had to, but only while adrenalin and the lust for the kill kept my head occupied. Once in my private room here in the mansion, I’d crawl into the bath and indulge in expressing how I hurt. That blessed, damned clawfoot tub had heard the worst profanity, and the most earnest supplications to whatever gods existed. I knew in my heart of hearts that Lucrecia and Hojo never even mentioned their aches and pains to each other. They themselves didn’t even know they were hurting.

Lucrecia burst back into the lab, looking almost on fire with anger. She drew her arm back and hurled something into the trash. It shattered, unable to withstand the hard container and the force of her strength. Hojo stood up while I straightened, both of us on the alert and ready to act. “Goddamn it!” Lucrecia shouted, and her arm went back out, catching a tray of freshly sterilized glass Hojo had just removed from the autoclave. I heard it searing her flesh as she swept it all into the floor. “I’m fertile and you’re fertile!” she shrieked, covering her face with her hands. “It makes no fucking sense, Kanaye! I feel like such a failure!”

She still wasn’t pregnant.

A few weeks ago I would have rejoiced. Now, I didn’t know what to feel.

Hojo pulled her to his body, enfolded her in his long arms. “It will happen, Lu,” he assured, his low voice nothing but comfort and confidence. “The more you worry about it, the harder it is. Relax.” As he spoke, he rocked her a little. Though I felt a flare of jealousy that I wasn’t the one comforting her, I felt glad he could obviously help. For, Lucrecia melted against him, and buried her face between his neck and shoulder, sobbing openly.

“It should have happened by now!” she insisted. “Every night for two weeks! Sometimes twice a day! And I can’t get pregnant? I want this baby!”

I didn’t have a right to go over there, but I couldn’t help myself. The woman I loved was in pain, and I wanted to stop that. I forgot all about why she wanted the child, forgot about experiments and her unusual husband. I stood behind her, hovering, actually, compelled to do what I could yet unknowing how to begin. She always rebuffed the softer displays of emotion that I attempted…

I locked eyes with Hojo. As he stroked his wife’s back and murmured softly in her ear, he seemed to wait for me to do something.

Well, he seemed to say in silence. What are you waiting for?

Tentatively, I reached out for her. When I felt how she trembled, something inside me just collapsed. I clenched my jaw. If I meant to give her any comfort, I’d have to touch her husband. I could do that.

I enclosed her in my arms, having to reach around Hojo to accomplish it. I grabbed a double handful of his coat and hung on grimly, focusing on the feel of Lucrecia’s back pressed to my front. Pressing my face in her fragrant mass of soft hair, I began to whisper. I didn’t even know what I was saying, only that I meant well. And, gradually, she began to calm.

I knew it the moment she slid into exhausted unconsciousness. Hojo and I caught her before she could fall to the floor. He picked her up, holding her in his arms as easily as he might hold a small child. Once again his eyes met mine, and I understood without words that he meant for me to follow.

We walked down the long corridor, past the library, and into a secret chamber. I’d never been here.

“She’ll sleep,” Hojo murmured, carrying Lucrecia into a bedroom. “Why don’t you stay with her while I finish our daily objectives?” So saying, he put her in the bed and leaned down to kiss her forehead. “She wanted to get the reports finished today. It will make her happy if they’re done. Afterward, we can go into the inn and have a drink or two. She really needs to relax and be stupid for a few hours.”

“All right.” It didn’t feel so strange now, taking care of her at her husband’s bidding. He meant for me to help him, to help her, and I realized in a sudden flash what a privilege I’d gained. Hojo hated most people. He didn’t hate me.

I slid under the sheets with her and gathered her into my arms. Feeling lost, I looked for Hojo quickly. “She can conceive?” I asked, and it meant a lot to me that she would get what she wanted. I could handle her carrying her husband’s child. It was only right, after all.

“Yes, she’s very fertile, and we’ve taken every precaution,” Hojo said, leaning down to smooth her hair from her forehead. “She’s only tired, high-strung from her emotions and hormones. Her ovulation lasted a bit longer than we expected, and it’s wrung her out.” He pressed his thumb to her mouth, and though she was asleep, she kissed that slender digit. He smiled. Raising his hand, he softly pressed that same thumb to the corner of my mouth. The contact stung. “I’ll be back in a few hours,” he promised. And, he left us, shutting the door quietly behind him.