Iscariot

Oh, I know that there'll be better days

Showered and clean, Mika toweled off in her bathroom. She was alone with her thoughts for the first time in days. It felt strange, surreal, as she considered everything that had happened to her. But the evidence was still here, the weight of it all still heavy upon her. The tile in the shower was still cracked. The decorative bottles that were once on the counter were gone, shattered from the unintended release of her magic with Matthew.

Matthew. She still wasn't entirely sure what to think of him. What he'd said about Andrew, what happened with the Company, it was obvious it affected him. He'd told her of Jared's death, too, mourning with her. The loss threatened to crush her again and she pushed it away. She'd cried enough. This was about Matthew, not her feelings.

She didn't know him as well as the other brothers. In the past, when they were young and living in her home, her friendship with him was lighthearted and distant. Matthew was quick to joke, but had an underlying maturity he hid more often than not. His older brothers had relentlessly teased him, or in James' case fathered him, as if he were younger than Damien. She'd had the distinct impression he was hiding some of himself. Not as much as Erik, but there was a side to him that Matthew kept private and he didn't let her come close enough to learn it.

Where does his heart lie? What is that part of him that hides behind the jokes and the playboy persona? She'd sensed some of it the afternoon he brought her home. There had been something in his eyes, the same something that led her to trust him in her bed, but he still hid it from her.

Look at actions, Mika, not words. It was something her grandfather had told her when she was just a little girl. A lesson he taught her in this very house, down the hall in his study. The memory was vivid in her mind as if she were that lost little girl again. It felt like her grandfather was here once more.

The cast was heavy on her arm. It didn't really hurt, not like it had before. But the look Grandfather gave her when he saw it almost had her crying again, as if she'd done something wrong. Scared, she worried he was mad at her, too. He didn't say anything as her father dropped her off for her weekly visit. He only scooped her up and carried her upstairs, setting her down on the edge of his workbench. He pulled of cookies he always had ready for her within easy reach.

"Go ahead, have one," he offered with a weak smile, turning away before the sigh could escape him. His son hadn't mentioned Mika being hurt and considering how much he fought against bringing her today, Harold could see the implications.

Nervous, Mika looked back at him, way too quiet. Swinging her legs as they dangled off the workbench and biting her lip, she hugged the cast to her chest. It was more telling than anything that she didn't reach for the plate.

"I thought chocolate chips were your favorite," he spoke lightly, picking up the small toy he was currently working on.

"Mmm," Mika hummed and squirmed a little, not answering and giving the treats a guilty look.

Seeing that his offer wasn't working, Harold quickly changed tactics. "Well, if you don't want a cookie, perhaps you'd like to help me with little Pipsqueak, here?" He held up the ball of gray and white fur in his hand.

"Pipsqueak?" That caught Mika's attention. She leaned over to see what he had.

"Yes. He's a hamster," Harold explained with a proud smile moving it closer so she could touch it. "Here, take him."

"A hamster? But... I can't have any pets." Her father was very specific about that. David Anderson hated animals, considering them dirty, destructive, and high maintenance.

"Oh, but you could have little Pipsqueak," Harold patiently answered. "Here, hold out your hand."

Mika held her little hands out, her eyes huge as Harold tipped the toy so it rolled on its tiny wheels across his hand and onto hers. She jumped, giving her own squeak and juggled it, finally settling with it on her curled palm at the base of her cast. She carefully pet the soft fur. Looking closer, she scrunched her nose at the beady little black eyes looking back up at her.