The Duplicate

Chapter Twenty

"Where's Dax?"

"Here, probably. He was here last night."

"He was?" He raises his eyes, and immediately his attention is drawn to the side of my face, the bruises, as if he's just now seeing them for the first time.

"You were pretty out of it," I say, biting my lip. The swelling has gone down a little, thankfully. "How are you feeling?"

He ignores my question and instead continues to look me over, eyes cold. "Do those hurt?"

"No. Not really." Yes, actually, they do. From my cheekbone down, my face is aching, and my jaw is sore, making it painful to talk.

Trip says nothing. The way he's staring at me makes me feel like he can see straight through me.

I glance away. "I asked you how you're feeling."

"Fine," he says, finally lifting the weight of his gaze from me, and with another heavy sigh he rolls to his back. "Tired, but fine."

"Your shoulder needs redressing. I can—"

"You've done enough, nurse. I can handle it." Using his good arm, Trip pushes himself upright, winces once again, and sits on the edge of the bed. With his back to me now I can see I was right. He's bleeding through his back bandage, even worse than the front.

Damn it.

"Don't get up," I say, twisting and climbing off the bed. My side gives a twinge, and there is a dull, pulsing ache in my head, either from exhaustion or from the beating last night. I push it all aside as I snatch the medical kit from the end of the bed, where I'd left it last night, and round my way towards Trip.

He's gripping the nightstand for support.

"Dizzy?" I ask, placing the medical kit beside him.

Trip only throws me a look.

Swiftly, I begin rummaging through the medical kit, tossing out tape and gauze.

Trip begins to protest. "I said I can handle—"

"I heard what you said." I swat his hand away as he tries to stop me from peeling off his front bandage. "But I don't believe you, so just let me do this."

He huffs, but gives in quickly. As I thought, he's too tired to argue, let alone redress his own wounds.

I get to work peeling off the gauze, and for a while neither one of us speaks. Standing over him feels a little awkward. I shift my weight from one leg to the other, trying not to notice as my fingertips brush over his feverish skin.

"It was Braxton," I say suddenly, breaking up the silence, "who showed up."

"I know. I saw."

"Dax told me who he is." I lay aside the used bandage and examine the wound. The bleeding has slowed, and it doesn't look infected. I grab a clean square of gauze. "He oversees the Duplicate Project, which means you... and the others, including Hound, right?"

"Yes."

"How many others are there?"

He doesn't answer straight away. He glances aside, before saying, "There were five of us."

I stop and look down at him. "And now?"

"Three."

"Oh," is all I can think to say. I'm not sure if I want to know what happened to the other two. I'm not even sure if Trip would tell me. Quieting for a moment, I go back to taping the gauze, until another thought crosses my mind. "Were you the best out of all five?"

Now Trip turns his gaze on me, ice-eyes narrowed. "How do you know all of this?"

I pause, nibbling my swollen lip. "Dax told me."

"Dax has been telling you a lot." He studies me a while longer, then asks, "What else did he tell you?"

My eyes turn to is shoulder again, and stay there. "Only that Government used you to silence people who spoke out against them."

Trip draws silent. Even motionless.

"Were you Braxton's bodyguard too, like Hound was last night?"

"I was whatever Braxton told me to be." It would be hard to miss the sudden steel in Trip's voice. Harsh, cutting. It sounds like hate. And it sounds like he doesn't want to talk about this anymore.

I decide to shut-up, and another silence ensues as I finish taping up the fresh gauze and move on to his back. This bandage, as I pull, sticks to his wound. Instantly Trip flinches, closing his eyes. Every muscle becomes stone.

"Sorry," I murmur, pulling more slowly.

He doesn't relax until I've freed the whole bandage. Only then—when I've tossed it aside with the other—does he expel the breath he was holding.

"You and pain," I say, quietly. Despite sensing this particular subject probably isn't any better than the one before it, I can't help but ask, "What happened?"

For a while he remains mute, but as soon as I start to think he might not answer, he does. "Training."

Unblinkingly, I stare down at him.

"Courses on pain tolerance." Trip shrugs slightly, careful not to lift his bad shoulder. "It didn't work."

"How so?"

"It had the opposite effect on me." His eyes are on the floor, and the steel is returning to his voice. "I think they liked that more though."

"Why?"

"Pain made me fight harder."

The image of Trip's eyes firing to life at the pain of Hound's bullet flashes through my mind. And I realize I was right. Government had conditioned him. They tried to instill a defense mechanism in their billion dollar weapon. It just turned out working out even better than they planned.

What a wonderful project. A weapon that grows stronger when it's damaged. I'm sure they were so pleased. But how could they do something so...?

I realize Trip is staring at me, watching all the thoughts whirl around behind my eyes. And, somehow, it looks like he knows exactly what I'm thinking.

"It doesn't sound so humane, does it?" he asks.

I don't respond. Because I know what he means. And I don't want to think about it. I won't allow myself to. I just want my world to stop tilting and shifting.

Wordlessly, I finish redressing his shoulder, and the moment I am done I step back, nodding slightly. "There." Aware of him continuing to watch me, I stuff the tape and gauze back into the medical kit then, silently, start for the door.

"Ashford."

"Yes?" I stop and turn.

He's standing now. And involuntarily my eyes flutter over him. His body, all muscle and power.

He glances aside, shifts uneasily, head tilting, looking at me from the corner of his eyes. He doesn't say a word. But he doesn't have to. I sense the words in the air, hanging on the tip of his tongue.

"You're welcome," I say. Then I am turning and walking out of the room.