There was a peacefulness to the night, punctuated only by the soft stir of the leaves outside. Moonlight spilled into the room gently through the drapes, filling the shadows that danced on the walls. Amelia moved in sleep, the comfortable pain in her leg a reminder of the scars that had invaded her life with unwanted familiarity. As she tossed in bed, a parched throat awakened her from her sleep. She opened her eyes, wincing in the darkness as she attempted to discern the form of the room. Her gaze landed on the vacant water glass next to the bed. She wanted something to drink. Slowly, she inched her way out of the covers, grimacing slightly as her foot encountered the floor, the dull pain reminding her of her own limitations. The room was cold—colder than she had remembered—and she shivered ever so slightly as she approached the pitcher of water on the bedside table.
She filled herself a glass and drank deeply, trying to swallow away the dryness in her throat. The cold water had some effect at first, but as the bite of the cold night air enfolded itself around her, she couldn't help but feel the discomfort. She stopped and realized that though the blankets had been warm, the night was growing colder and colder.
An idea flashed across her mind—she could go back to bed and sleep the cold away. And then something else seemed to tug at her. It had been too long since she'd permitted herself to be. comfortable, really comfortable in her own flesh, with her injuries and with her feelings. Her body, despite the heaviness of it all, appeared to look for comfort, to wish to lay in the warmth of something known.
Claude.
The notion of curling up next to him didn't feel odd or inappropriate at the time—just soothing. She took a deep breath and thought it wouldn't hurt.
She moved quietly over to his bedside, not wishing to disturb him, but the chill was too much. With a subtle movement, she slid under the covers, close enough to him that her body could absorb the heat he inadvertently provided. She moved, settling into a resting position beside him, allowing the heat of his body to permeate into her skin.
Amelia shut her eyes, releasing a soft sigh of relief as she leaned in closer to him, her head instinctively resting on the shoulder. She didn't even notice how much she had been missing the basic sensation of comfort until now, her body needing the heat of another human being.
For an eternity, there was just the silence, the sound of breathing, and the quiet of the room.
But Claude?
He wasn't quite as oblivious as she had been hoping. A gentle movement in the bed, the heat of her body coming closer, woke him. He didn't completely process the change in his own environment at first, his head still foggy with sleep. But as his body finally realized that someone had snuggled into his side, his eyes snapped open. He stiffened, as motionless as he could, realizing with a burst of awareness that Amelia was snuggling him in her sleep. His heart started pounding, but he restrained from the urge to shift, not willing to wake her. He remained there, motionless as a statue, gazing up at the ceiling in complete shock at what had happened. How did I end up like this? Claude's muscles stiffened as her head lay lightly against his chest. The heat of her body on his, the gentle rise and fall of her breath—it was all so unfamiliar, and yet, somehow. peaceful. He had no idea how to respond. Every fiber of his body urged him to shift, to disengage the contact, to sit up and act like nothing was occurring. But he didn't. Not yet.
Instead, he remained there, rigid as a board, hardly daring to breathe for fear that it would wake her up.
Amelia, happily clueless about the tension that she had created, snuggled deeper into the heat of his chest, her arms wrapping around his waist naturally. A quiet hum of satisfaction escaped her as she slept peacefully on, completely at ease.
And there he was, stuck in a position where any movement would betray the peaceful quiet they had inadvertently discovered.
Morning arrived much too soon. Amelia stirred slowly, her eyes reluctantly opening as sunbeams invaded the room. Her first conscious thought was just how wonderfully warm and cozy she was. Blinked slowly as she felt that —one's chest against her head, the gentle ebb and rise of it. She took a deep breath in, the warmth and smell of him enveloping her.
Wait.
Her mind came to life, and she was aware of where she was. She slowly sat up, rubbing her eyes in a daze. She was on top of Claude. The harshness of the situation came crashing down on her like a bucket of icy water.
She sat up as fast as she could, to be greeted by the sight of Claude's very stiff, very wide-eyed face.
Her cheeks burned with embarrassment as she frantically moved back, surprised that not just had she curled up against his chest, but she'd also inadvertently stuck him in a cramped position all through the night.
"Claude, I—" She stopped, embarrassed. "I didn't mean. I didn't know—"
Claude did not stir at once. His face was red, his eyes wide with shock, and he seemed to be paralyzed where he stood. "I—uh." He stuttered in trying to explain. "You. you were cold." He cleared his throat and rearranged himself, stiff motions. "You needed to be warm, so. I didn't. I didn't stir."
Amelia blinked, her own flush deepening. "You're telling me. you didn't move at all?"
Claude nodded once, though he still did not move, his face flushing with discomfort. "No, I didn't want to disturb you."
Amelia bit her lip, her mind whirling. Of course, I didn't realize how. close we had become in the middle of the night.
"Right," she replied stiffly, her eyes flicking sideways. "Well, um, thanks for not waking me." She coughed, attempting to gloss over the stiffness. "But I suppose it's time we got up now."
Claude nodded rigidly. "Right, yes. Time to—um, yes." He eased himself up carefully, stretching as if he was literally attempting to shake off the residual stiffness.
Amelia slowly rose out of bed, still tingling from the heat of the contact the previous evening. Why was this so..... uncomfortable?
They dressed in silence, and when they went downstairs, the tension between them remained suspended in the air. Amelia could not seem to shake it, but her head kept repeating over and over again the strange closeness of the previous evening.
Claude, however, was obviously doing his best to avoid eye contact, his body moving sharply and rapidly, as if he could outrun the situation with enough velocity.
But in midday, Claude found himself trailing her, as if in the grip of some unseen force. He remained discreetly in the background, but there was no mistaking it. His footsteps echoed hers, and whenever she moved down a corridor or into a room, he followed her into it, just behind.
At first, Amelia had assumed it was coincidence. Perhaps he was just busy with his own work. But then it occurred again. And again. Claude was behind her, walking behind her, not actually doing anything but taking up space in her world.
It was odd.
"Claude," she said at last, without looking back. "Why are you stalking me?"
Claude's cheeks flushed with a little color, and he bristled. "I'm not following you. I'm just. ensuring you're not. alone." He swallowed. "Just ensuring you're okay."
Amelia arched an eyebrow, a smile pulling at her mouth. "You know, you're not fooling anyone, Claude. But if you want to hang around, you're more than welcome.