He only let his eyes fall shut for a second, but Sol had somehow rolled out the blankets they kept here for when the heating in this sector shut off without extricating herself, and was now easing them both down to it. Gabe put out his hands to support himself so that all his weight wasn't on her as they crawled to the center and stretched out painfully. She'd rolled the blanket over itself several times near the end, so that a very thin pillow was formed, and the makeshift bed was wide enough that when they lay to one side, they could fold the other half of the blanket over themselves. The cuddled together wordlessly beneath the blanket, And the warmth of Sol's body caused him to dimly note that she had rid them both of all but their underclothing. In each other's arms, bodyheat warmed the interior space of the blanket quickly enough. Gabe let his eyes fall shut, and kissed Sol's forehead, gently. "Safe," he whispered, softly.

He did not resist, and some of the desire she'd held this afternoon in the hallway before the announcement came back to her as she tugged his undershirt away, but behind it was something cold and harsh that sent a chill through her, something that wanted to surface and show itself and ruin her delicate mood.

He wondered, dimly, if the jacket would cause trouble for them. Strictly speaking, he had done nothing whatsoever wrong. It was self-defense, plain and simple. However, there were four -- or perhaps only three, depending upon how badly Gabe had hurt Davis -- witnesses that were quite likely to testify to a different story altogether.

Hale recorded everything; he would know what had happened, and could prove that Gabe and Sol did nothing wrong.

Gabe would have to speak to him. About a number of things.

Later. Some infinite later Gabe didn't have to think about right now. Right now, Gabe wanted to be concerned with only Sol. She was the one that was hurt; she was the one in need. Gabe had selfishly heaped more than she could possibly be expected to carry by herself upon her shoulders back in the infirmary, and she had comforted him. She who was lying bruised and beaten in the medical bed, she who had been assaulted and very nearly raped no more than an hour before, she had had to forget her troubles and comfort Gabe, who had not been hurt at all save for the damage done to his hand when he smashed Davis' face, who was supposed to be stoic and stable and reliable in his narrow range of emotions. How could he place this weight on her?

Well now he was reigned in again, in control once more, and he was here for Sol now, if she needed him. If she needed to talk, he wanted only to listen. If she did not want to talk, then he would lie here and hold her until she well again or until the Formics came for them, whichever was first. Gabe wasn't going anywhere.

For now she needed rest. Gabe did not extricate himself, because he felt that it was, for some reason, important not to break their contact. But he was able, with some accomodation on Sol's part, to get rid of their uncomfortable uniform trousers, and slide them both onto one half of the blanket, so that he could pull the other half over them. The folded-over half covered their heads, blocked out the weak lights above. In the darkness of their little sleeve of existence, Gabe again relaxed his body and held Sol close, hoping that the world would finally leave them alone now.

For a few hours, at least. It owed them that much.

Gabe was there, cradling her, when she woke, and her first thought was a frantic need to see her desk, to make sure it wasn't blinking, that they weren't late for class. They were on break, she remembered slowly. They had no class, and it was dark anyway.

The warmth of his body curved against hers calmed her down, and she relaxed and smiled into the dark. His breathing altered that tiny fragment that told her he was awake instead of asleep and she grinned and twisted to kiss him deeply when her ribs pulled sharply at her lungs, making her half-yelp in pain.

Memory returned, and she sank in against Gabriel and tried to scrub it clean again, with no success. His body so close to hers was comforting and disturbing at once, but she wanted his closeness more than she wanted to cater to her discomfort.

"Mmm," he murmured, somewhat sleepily. "Still evening. Probably just after dinner. 1900, maybe 2000."

He remembered, dimly, that he'd volunteered to keep watch. He shoudl have known better. Lying in a pocket of warmth and safety, with the girl he loved in his arms and all the time in the world, there hadn't been any real chance of Gabe remaining alert.

That was okay though. They were safe here.

In truth, she was a little hungry. Hale had given them no breakfast, and lunch had been interrupted, but that interruption was interfering with her appetite, and so she said nothing to contradict him. She might be hungry, but she didn't really want to eat.

The blanket and Gabriel suddenly seemed too hot, too close, and she put an arm out of the folded material to feel the cooler air of the room and relaxed a little. She became aware of his body cradled gently against hers and left her eyes closed and concentrated on the soothing feel of his arms around her instead of the oddly uncomfortable press of his body. What's wrong with you? This is Gabe. This is nothing you haven't done every day for the past two years. Love. Remember?

Sol opened her eyes to look up into Gabe's and suddenly knew how Eve must have felt.

It wasn't the act itself that made him feel that something was not right. They had to part eventually. He'd not wanted to do so so soon, but perhaps Sol was hungry, or wanted to shower, or any number of things. It wasn't the act of pulling away that gave Gabe a mild sense of unease.

What it was, Gabe was not entirely sure. The sudden light as she pushed the blanket down. The sublte tension in her body, the feeling that she seemed to want to escape, to be free of his arms. The look in her eyes when she met his.

The way she now sat with her back to him.

Gabe sat up also, but didn't close on her. It seemed clear that she did not want his touch right now. He watched silently, wondering if he should say anything. Normally he would ask; he had no idea what was wrong, and would have liked to know. Perhaps it was her position, facing away from him, that kept him from asking. It seemed a way of saying, without saying anything, that right now she needed to have him out of sight. And, Gabe assumed, out of mind as well.

So he didn't ask. He wanted to, but he could not. His desire to know did not outweigh Sol's right to keep it to herself, if that was what she wished.

Gabe stood, and started dressing into his clothes. He'd told himself eh'd go have a talk with Hale later. That later seemed to be now.

He leaned down as he was zipping up his jacket, and kissed her cheek. "I'm sorry," he whispered. For what, he didn't know; it didn't matter. She was sad. If he had anything to do with it, then whatever it was, he was sorry for that. If it had nothing to do with him, then he was sorry he didn't know how to fix it.

Gabriel was sorry? He was the reason she was still intact, the reason those boys hadn't done anything but beat her up a little. She'd had worse from Katera, and it hadn't affected her this way. What did it matter what they might have done otherwise? They hadn't, and Gabe was the reason for that. She refused to imagine the alternative.

Why was that so little comfort?

She pulled the blanket around her again, inexplicably cold, and huddled on the crate. What's wrong with me? she queried herself harshly. I'm not hurt, not really, and I'll get better. They didn't do anything except bruise me a little. Her teeth clenched as she remembered their hands on her, the black despair that had settled over her when they ripped her jacket away and the last of her hopeful uncertainty was crushed.

And then...Gabe, Gabe standing in the hallway and looking like...looking like...

...his father.

She tightened her grip on the thin army blanket and stared blankly at the floor, the dull reflection of the light on metal planks. Yes, like his father, aged, but unlike with Simon Reiner, there had been a furious fire behind it. Reiner had long ago cooled. Later in the infirmary, so had Gabe, and the resemblance had been far too close for comfort. He looked broken and sad and she'd wanted to smooth those lines away with her fingertips forever.

And then he cried, and she watched him touch his fingertips to his face disbelievingly, like he had in the forest when she'd kissed him hello, like he wasn't sure this was really happening and had no idea what to make of it. As if he were lost. She could have held him forever to keep that expression from his face, the one that said he felt alone and uncertain. She could have held him forever regardless.

What made her pull away now?

I don't...I just...I feel...

What?

...unclean.

She bowed her head and clasped her hands together in her lap. The blanket slipped a little, but she paid it no heed. The threat had been enough, to know that someone could take love and twist it into an attack. That someone would. She should have run. She could have avoided it. Even if they'd caught her, chances were she would have been in a populated area and they couldn't have dragged her away without attracting attention.

Gone. The room . . . gone. It was . . . it was unthinkable. The room was their sanctuary. It was sacred. It was where they escaped the world. It was where they were safe.

And Hale wanted to take it away.

That was not acceptable. Gabe could not give up the room. Hale had taken so much from them already; he could not be allowed to take this. It was theirs. They'd found it. They'd given it life, with their innumerable games of chess, with their makeshift table and stolen chairs, with their maps covering the walls. Hale was threatening to take it all from them; to seal the room, destroy their possessions, steal from them their one escape, their one place of safety.

Gabe could only see one option. They would have to do as Hale said. They would have to throw the match. Surrender.

Because the alternative was unbearable.

He spotted the place where the fight had been as he navigated the corridors leading to the room, saw the bloodstain on the metal floor. The boys would be in the infirmary now. Gabe wondered if Davis would die. It was a dispassionate kind of wondering, though; as far as Gabe was concerned, they had each signed away their right to live the moment they touched Sol. If any of them died, Gabe would feel no regret. None at all.

The door opened to admit him, and Gabe entered the room, sideways, so that he did not bump the trays he'd picked up in the mess. Sol was there, but she was wearing what appeared to be a fresh uniform, and her hair was damp. She was facing away from the door, and her head lifted when he entered, but she didn't look around. Gabe suppressed a sigh.

Sol . . .

What can I do, Sol? Name it and it's done. Anything.

He set the trays down on the table. The lunch Sol had picked up for them earlier that day still sat on the table, uneaten; Gabe stacked those trays and set them aside, on the floor. He looked to Sol.

If I were any kind of companion I'd understand her well enough to know what's wrong. I'd know how to make it better. But all I can think to do is ask, or hold her, and it's pretty obvious that she doesn't want either from me.

What can I do?

Sol was sitting on the floor; it looked like she might have been looking at the maps earlier, and then ended up staring at the floor. Gabe removed his shoes, and jacket, and sat down behind her, legs crossed. He didn't touch her. He couldn't bring himself to, without some sign from her that she wanted him to. If she didn't want his touch, he would not force it upon her. So he sat still, wanting to put his arms around her but commanding his body to let her be, and spoke.

"This morning, when Bryant had me come to his office, it wasn't to tell me they were letting us transfer. They aren't going to let us, ever. They're deciding whether or not to ‘let' us finish this Scorpion game of theirs or ice us flat out. I just went to talk to Hale. He hates me. Us. He is going to try to fail us if he can, or break us, or get us killed. Because of my father. He threatened to take this away from us, Sol. He said he'd enforce lockdowns in the cells at night, fill this room with pressure sealant and destroy everything in it. Unless we give up, and let ourselves fail."

He lowered his head. Don't, Gabriel. Don't.

But he could not keep himself away from her. He needed her now. She was his strength. She was his courage. He needed her.

Gabe leaned forward enough to slip his arms around her waist, and lean his head against the back of her shoulder. He hated himself, hated his weakness; hated that he thought of his own need before Sol's. Perhaps Sol would not mind. Or perhaps she would. But he'd acted upon his own need, not knowing what hers were. Selfish. Contemptible. Weak.

But he could not make himself pull away. He kissed the fabric that covered Sol's shoulder, lifted his head to kiss the back of her head, and let his head rest again against her shoulder.

The shower had helped, but not much, and she had spent the trip there and back and her time alone replaying the events in her mind, trying to determine precisely where she had made her mistake. All facts seemed to point to the obvious. She should have run. She should never have attempted to stand up to four Scorpions by herself. She was proud and she was vain, and she had brought this misery on them both.

She would have to endure their snickers now, their knowing smirks and leering glances, until Bryant put their transfer through. She had made Gabriel cry, and that made her weary with grief. To make matters worse, she had let him leave thinking perhaps that she was mad at him, yet could not find the will to go after him. Instead, weak and childish, she waited for him to return to her.

The door slid open to admit him, and she looked up, listened to his steps pause, heard the click of plastic trays on the little table, cocked her head to the side slightly to hear him better as he sat down behind her and did not touch her. She wanted to turn to him, to bury herself in his arms and let him make it better for her, but some cold sense of intuition stopped her. Something was wrong, something more than what had happened this afternoon in the hallway.

She was still torn by indecision when he began to speak, his voice strained beneath the calm.

"This morning, when Bryant had me come to his office, it wasn't to tell me they were letting us transfer. They aren't going to let us, ever. They're deciding whether or not to ‘let' us finish this Scorpion game of theirs or ice us flat out. I just went to talk to Hale. He hates me. Us. He is going to try to fail us if he can, or break us, or get us killed. Because of my father. He threatened to take this away from us, Sol. He said he'd enforce lockdowns in the cells at night, fill this room with pressure sealant and destroy everything in it. Unless we give up, and let ourselves fail."

Her heart tightened and sank, and he slipped his arms around her and kissed the back of her head as she stared at his clasped hands over her stomach in shock. Hale. Hale, who wouldn't interfere when Rabin tried to kill Gabe, who hadn't stopped Rabin from attacking Gabriel...and who had very likely known exactly what was happening in the hallways today, and hadn't bothered to interfere, except perhaps to watch with academic interest. Maybe he'd even suggested it to them.

Maybe that's what he likes.

She shivered once and her jaw hardened as she came to a decision, and she turned herself in Gabriel's embrace and crawled into his lap, captured his face gently between her palms and kissed him. It was rough, but sweet, and if he was slow to respond he made up for it in the endgame. When she knew she had to break the kiss or suffer an extended delay before speaking her mind, she separated from him reluctantly and looked down into his face for a long moment, her features serious enough to approach grim. She traced his eyebrow and the line of his cheek with her fingertip, her touch light and gentle as she reached over to the little table and lifted the black king from the table without looking.

Gabriel...

"I love you."

...Break us?

She looked into his eyes, deep brown fringed with copper lashes.

He can't break us. Nothing can break us. Not the Scorpions, not Hale, and not me.

Sol had had enough. Too many threats from too many quarters had left her feeling defensive and helpless, and this was one too many injustices in too short a time. Hale's threat had the unfortunate circumstance of coming last at the end of a long line, and Hale's threat was what the infuriated shreds of her pride and her stubborn nature focused on. Another day, and she might have caved in. Another day, and she might have even considered Hale's terms desirable.

Not today.

She brushed his lips with her own, and then there was an audible plastic snap that made Gabe disengage and open his eyes, and when he looked down, she did too. The head of the king had come cleanly away, snapping at the seam, and leaving her with the two pieces.