voice faltered momentarily. "What if you just kept doing whatever you could to save and heal these people despite that? Wouldn't you deserve a life, too? Wouldn't you have earned that much?"
Jared didn't answer. I felt my eyes getting moist. Did Ian really think so highly of me? Did he really think I'd earned the right to a life here?
"Point taken?" Ian pressed.
"I-I'll have to think about that one."
"Do that."
"But still -"
Ian interrupted him with a sigh. "Don't get worked up. Wanda isn't exactly human, despite the body. She doesn't seem to respond to... physical contact the same way a human would."
Now Jared laughed. "Is that your theory?"
"What's funny?"
"She is quite capable of responding to physical contact," Jared informed him, his tone suddenly sober again. "She's human enough for that. Or her body is, anyway."
My face went hot.
Ian was silent.
"Jealous, O'Shea?"
"Actually... I am. Surprisingly so." Ian's voice was strained. "How would you know that?"
Now Jared hesitated. "It was... sort of an experiment."
"An experiment?"
"It didn't go the way I thought it would. Mel punched me." I could hear that he was grinning at the memory, and I could see, in my head, the little lines fanning out around his eyes.
"Melanie... punched... you?"
"It sure wasn't Wanda. You should have seen her face... What? Hey, Ian, easy, man!"
"Did you think for one moment what that must have done to her?" Ian hissed.
"Mel?"
"No, you fool, Wanda!"
"Done to Wanda?" Jared asked, sounding bewildered by the idea.
"Oh, get out of here. Go eat something. Stay away from me for a few hours."
Ian didn't give him a chance to answer. He yanked the door out of his way-roughly but very quietly-and then slid into his room and put the door back in its place.
He turned and met my gaze. From his expression, he was surprised to find me awake. Surprised and chagrined. The fire in his eyes blazed and then slowly dimmed. He pursed his lips.
He cocked his head to one side, listening. I listened, too, but Jared's retreat made no sound. Ian waited for another moment, then sighed and plunked down on the edge of his mattress, across from me.
"I guess we weren't as quiet as I thought," he said.
"Sound carries in these caves," I whispered.
He nodded. "So..." he finally said. "What do you think?"
Chapter 38: Touched
"What do I think about what?"
"About our... discussion out there," Ian clarified.
What did I think about it? I didn't know.
Somehow, Ian was able to look at things from my perspective, my alien perspective. He thought I had earned a right to my life.
But he was... jealous? Of Jared?
He knew what I was. He knew I was just a tiny creature fused into the back of Melanie's brain. A worm, as Kyle had said. Yet even Kyle thought Ian had a "crush" on me. On me? That wasn't possible.
Or did he want to know what I thought about Jared? My feelings on the experiment? More details about my responses to physical contact? I shuddered.
Or my thoughts on Melanie? Melanie's thoughts on their conversation? Whether I agreed with Jared about her rights?
I didn't know what I thought. About any of it.
"I really don't know," I said.
He nodded. "That's understandable."
"Only because you are very understanding."
He smiled at me. It was odd how his eyes could both scorch and warm. Especially with a color that was closer to ice than fire. They were quite warm at the moment.
"I like you very much, Wanda."
"I'm only just beginning to see that. I guess I'm a little slow."
"It's a surprise to me, too."
We both thought that over.
He pursed his lips. "And... I suppose... that is one of the things you don't know how you feel about?"
"No. I mean yes, I... don't know. I... I -"
"That's okay. You haven't had long to think about it. And it must seem... strange."
I nodded. "Yes. More than strange. Impossible."
"Tell me something," Ian said after a moment.
"If I know the answer."
"It's not a hard question."
He didn't ask it right away. Instead, he reached across the narrow space and picked up my hand. He held it in both of his for a moment, and then he trailed the fingers of his left hand slowly up my arm, from my wrist to my shoulder. Just as slowly, he pulled them back again. He looked at the skin of my arm rather than my face, watching the goose bumps that formed along the path of his fingers.
"Does that feel good or bad to you?" he asked.
Bad, Melanie insisted.
But it doesn't hurt, I protested.
That's not