Danem

Shadow of Herself

Membrane had long since moved Gloria from the couch to their bed, pulling the covers up around her, and holding her hand. Simmons had been trying to get ahold of him for an hour now, but he'd blocked all calls. The world could get along without him for awhile.

Reaching up, he pulled his goggles off, letting them dangle from his neck. She'd never liked his goggles, and he didn't want to startle her once she woke up.

He removed his gloves, reaching a hand over to brush her hair away from her face. His hand passed over a few of the lighter scars on her cheek.

He'd spent his rage at the situation long ago. All that was left now was sorrow and shame. Sorrow, to see the woman he loved so much reduced to a shell of her former self. Shame, that he hadn't been able to do a thing to protect her. He hadn't even been a part of her rescue, his son and an alien had gone to find her. Twice.

She'd been so.... Alive. He remembered so clearly. His idea of an enjoyable date was a simple picnic. Hers had been a day of rock climbing and then a picnic. At the top of a cliff. The day after that, he had invented anti-gravity boots so he would never, ever, ever have to cling to the side of a cliff face, fearing for his life, ever again.

There wasn't a challenge she was ever unprepared to tackle. He'd known her since middle-skool, when his family had moved to town. Gloria, with her then-waist-length purple hair, bound tightly in a braid so it wouldn't be in her way. He remembered his first glimpse of her, tearing past him in the street, on a horse. Who rides horses here? He'd thought, boggled. Later, at Skool, she'd walked up to him, punched him playfully in the shoulder, and welcomed him to "The worst educational system in the country."

She hadn't been far off, the whole experience had been abysmal, from the teachers to the students. Membrane had ended up passing only by reading the textbooks cover to cover. The only other student who had shown an interest in excelling had been Gloria, so they'd teamed up as study partners.

Her expertise lay in English, the arts, and physical education. His lay in Math, science, and historical patterns. Together they worked through all questions and difficulties, until each had a chance of passing their "problem" classes.

Years passed. They graduated middle-skool and hi-skool together. They chose to attend different colleges, but kept in touch. She would write him lengthy letters about her week, often interspersed with gesture sketches or, sometimes, little watercolor images of campus life. He would write back, filling her in on his latest experiments, and the advances they would be making soon. Every accomplishment was detailed, and every secret shared. Occasionally, he would slip in the innocuous question, "Have you met anyone interesting?" Which she never chose to answer.

Finally, after the seventh or eighth time, she responded, "If you want to go on a date, Ivan, why don't you just say so?"

He stroked her cheek gently. My Glory. Always able to read between the lines.

Marriage and pregnancy hardly slowed her at all. She'd joked occasionally that their kid would be born while she was horseback riding, and Membrane would laugh nervously, not sure if she was really joking or not. When Dib had been born, he'd seen a side of her that he didn't even know existed. Not that she wasn't a kind person, of course she was, but with Dib in her arms, some of her fire melted away—and it wasn't a bad thing. She looked up at him, and took his hand. Tears had run down her face, as she smiled at him. "Look. Just look. He looks like you."

She'd insisted on keeping Dib in their room for the first few months, and sometimes he would wake up to see her looking down at Dib, an expression of awe on her face.