Midnight Rose

[Belle]

The creaking of the vents overhead sounded out, pealing like thunder. For all the little ways the designers had tried to simulate surface conditions - an artificial night sky, sunsets, even air currents and breezes - probably the most impressive part of the whole thing was the rain.

It wasn't real rain, of course. As big as Tier Four was, it simply couldn't house its own weather system. Instead, a network of sprayers deluged the tier at semi-regular intervals, hosing it down. Dirt and debris were carried by the flows downward, collecting in massive piles that would be delivered to the lowest level, while the water was circulated back up, cleaned, and reintroduced.

That water pounded down on Belle as she walked. The visit to the hospital had been excruciating. Lily floating in the bacta tank, and her not being able to do anything about it. The accusation pounded between her ears, louder and louder, a ringing that drowned out even the sound of the rain. Even when she closed her eyes, there they were, the images stamped behind her eyelids. The alley. Lily. The broken cap.

Your fault, each one seemed to say. Your fault, your fault, your fault-

"Miss?"

She opened her eyes. It took her a second to recognize the girl in front of her - the street walker with bronzed skin and blonde hair that she had seen a few nights before. She still had her cat ears and tail, the strap of her usual purse slung over one shoulder. In her other hand she carried an umbrella, water streaming off the tips.

"Are you okay?"

Belle looked around. Somehow her feet had carried her almost all the way back to her apartment. She was completely soaked through, her clothes matted to her body. "I'm fine." She had lost track of how many times she had said that already.

"Is there something wrong with your umbrella?"

Belle stared at her, uncomprehending. When the girl glanced down, Belle's eyes followed, and she realized she had been carrying one in her hand the whole time, its fastener still tight. "I-..." she trailed off.

The girl smiled sympathetically and stepped forward, bringing Belle under her cover. "You're the Rose Girl, right?" she asked. "I almost didn't recognize you out of your uniform."

When Belle pursed her lips and said nothing, the girl continued, her voice softer. "I heard about what happened." Her eyes lowered. "She's a friend of yours, right? Lily. We talk sometimes... How is she?"

The girl waited, holding Belle with her eyes. They were amber gold, the pupils vertically slitted. Belle could see faint marks like tiger stripes on the skin of her cheeks, slightly darker than the rest of her skin. "She's... she'll live," Belle mumbled. "Uhm. A week, they said, probably. I mean - ... a week to get out. Not to-..."

"That's good," the girl smiled, her gaze gentle. "Come on," she continued, "let's get inside." She reached out to take Belle's hand. Her fingers were warm, a stark contrast against the cold that had seeped into every inch of Belle's body.

Belle pulled her hand away. The other's eyes flickered with surprise, then sadness. "Lily is my friend, too," she said. "I wouldn't do anything to hurt her. I won't hurt you. I promise."

The girl with the feline features reached out again, slower this time. Belle twitched. A part of her wanted to lash out, to scream and knock the hand away. She wanted to throw her umbrella on the pavement and stomp it, snap it. She wanted to do something - anything to stop thinking, if only just for a few moments.

The hand closed around her's. She didn't pull away. "Where are you staying?" the girl asked.

Belle led the way to her apartment, up the long flight of stairs. The courtesan paused at the bottom, briefly looking over her shoulder before she followed. She made no comment as Belle opened the door, allowing her inside. Wordlessly, she started to help Belle out of her clothes, then retrieved towels from the bath to wrap her in. "What's your name?" she finally asked.

"Belle," Belle said with a shiver. The apartment had heating, but not enough. She clutched the towels closer around her. "What about you? What's yours?"

She smiled. "Nalia." She rested a hand on Belle's knee. "It's nice to meet you, Belle."

The thudding in her brain dulled. Perhaps she was merely tired. There was a faint scent, something of lavender, that reminded her of someone, though she couldn't place it at that moment. Those fingers were still warm as she brought Nalia closer, and for at least a little while, Belle didn't have to think at all.