Page 12 of Sullied Saints

His already considerably wrinkled nose wrinkles some more. "Bunch of hogwash. 'Preserving our history'." He makes a noise almost like I expect him to spit right there on the faded carpet, then concludes, "Keeping us all locked in the past, more like."

Dirk has been staring silently at the board for a while, and with the rest of us joining the silence, he takes a loud breath, straightening, “I think that’s enough optimism for me for the day." No one argues with him, of course, no one will. After what he went through, he can tap out anytime he likes.

“Good to have you back in,” Dean says in goodbye, and Dirk offers those two a wan smile before he grabs his jacket and turns to leave.

I make no secret of chasing him out the door. If we're going to have any kind of professional relationship, we need to talk. Mostly, I need to explain myself.

"Dirk!" I call from the other end of the wide corridor when I spot him, about to open the double doors that lead out to the station front. He pauses, hesitating long enough for me to jog and catch up. It doesn’t take an expert to see that he doesn't want to talk to me, in private or otherwise. Probably he was relieved that I wasn't there when he got out of the shower at my place.

Maybe he does regret the fucking. Only one way to find out.

Half-turned like he still wants to dive outside instead, Dirk waits for me to say my piece.

And I'm suddenly at a loss. "I'm glad you're not leaving," I tell him, even though that much is obvious.

"Right."

I clench my teeth. "I went back. To my apartment."

"Well, you do live there."

"Dirk, I'm sorry…” I sigh, pressing my fingers to my forehead. “I just panicked."

He tilts his head, eyes narrowing, and I know I've somehow said the wrong thing. "You panicked and left, or you panicked and fucked me?"

My jaw tightens. "The first one." When he only stares back at me, clearly not buying it, my voice rises too much as I demand, "What are you thinking? Just say it!"

“Why?”

“Because I don’t know what you want from me!”

"And since when have you given a shit what I want?” His tone stills me for a moment. “I wanted you to stop drinking. I wanted you to tell me the truth. I wanted you to let me help you. To not turn on the TV and find out like that what your husband was. To not go to a fucking dead man’s office after dark and nearly get yourself killed! Tolistento me when I was screaming at you that Olivia was the Cocooner! When I was trying to save your damned life…”

"I get it!"

Lips closed, Dirk turns his face away, but I already saw enough in his eyes. He's on the edge of something, and it’s frightening. He's always been strong, almost unflappable, like he'd just curse at whatever it was and move on. But now something has come unhinged in him.

Taking a breath, I manage to say, "I agree with you. I do a lot of stupid things.” Then I add, “I’m working on it.”

Dirk laughs unkindly. “Oh well, thank fuck for that.”

I narrow my eyes. "You're just being cruel."

"What did you fucking expect? Your roommate tries to turn me into some dead bird-man, you were fucking Needler and accusing me ofbeingNeedler at the same time as lying to me for months! You're lucky I'm not a sobbing mess in the corner!"

“I didn’t want that to happen to you!” I screech. “I’d do anything to take it all back. But you can’t stand here and tell me I’m the only one you’re mad at. Whatever you think…”

“You want to know what I think?” Dirk takes a step towards me, and I retreat before I stop myself, the wall of the corridor behind me. Aside from the hum of the protestors outside, our voices are the only ones here. Thank hell barely anyone is coming or going this time of day, maybe even less so given the gradually escalating riots. “I think it’s not me you wanted."

That, most of all, makes me do a double-take. He can’t be serious. "Excuse me?"

Now his voice lowers, all the while becoming louder and more imposing since he moves towards me, coming well within reach while I stand my ground. “I think you happened to be feeling lonely, or horny, and your preferred cock is in lock-up…"

Whatever he was going to say next is cut off by the sharp ring of my palm across his cheek. I’m breathless, shocked at my own act as his face stays turned just slightly away. My hand stings, but I don't believe for a minute I’ve really hurt him, not physically anyway.

There’s a dangerous spark in his eye that makes my breath catch in my throat as Dirk tilts his head back to me. I gasp when he suddenly grabs me by the upper arms and shoves me back against the wall, face lowered and so close to mine that our noses touch.

"Slap me again," he warns.

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