Redemption (Midas x Reader)

• XXVI •

"Y/N...it's time to go," Maya spoke softly through my earpiece, startling me out of my reverie.

My mouth was dry, and I attempted to wet my parched lips with my tongue before I spoke. "Um...yeah, of course. Just a sec," I finally answered, my voice cracking with the effort.

I stood from Midas' bed with a sigh, slowly dragging my leaden feet to the bathroom to take one last look at myself in the mirror before we left. I made an attempt at smoothing out my ponytail, my nervous sweating having caused my hair to frizz around the edges of my face. After I had fixed it to the best of my ability I picked off the few stray hairs that had fallen onto my black t-shirt.

God, I look like I'm going to a funeral.

The tight black shirt I was wearing was tucked into a small pair of black cargo shorts, the entire ensemble reminiscent of something a widow would wear, dark and mournful. I had worn almost exclusively black since that day at the Rig almost a week ago, a general "fuck you" to Shadow, and to my former self.

And besides, if I were going to speak with Midas today for the first time since he walked away I may as well wear the color he prefers now.

The neck of the shirt was cut in a deep v, the thumb portion of his handprint visible and shining brightly above it. I leaned towards the mirror to inspect it more closely, noticing my indurated skin around the edges, healed but permanently scarred. It no longer hurt, having gone numb in the same manner as my mind, calloused against the injuries he'd inflicted.

I walked out of the bathroom and over to the nightstand, picking up the thigh holster that lay there, strapping it onto my right leg. I checked the safety on my pistol and made sure it was loaded before fastening it in.

I had spent an inordinate amount of time gun training this past week, shooting at targets for hours on end until I was capable of hitting the bullseye more often than not. It had taken several days of practice before I could withstand the sounds of gunfire in the range without flinching.

Maya had been surprised at my sudden change of heart when I'd asked her to give me my own gun, and had only obliged after she was relatively sure I wasn't going to shoot myself with it. She'd still been leery at my sudden dedication, and it was hard to reassure her when I wasn't even positive why I abruptly felt the need to overcome my fear once and for all.

"You're not, like, planning to shoot Midas with that are you?" Maya had asked at one point, after noticing my improvement. "I mean, I know he burned you real fuckin' bad but..."

"I'm pretty sure you and Tek already tried that," I'd snapped, ending the conversation. If a sniper bullet to the forehead hadn't taken him out then this measly pistol wouldn't do a damn thing, even if I wanted it to.

I grabbed my backpack, containing my toothbrush and a change of clothes, which Maya had advised just in case it became too late to travel back from the Shark tonight. I hadn't wanted to go at all, and had balked at the prospect of maybe having to spend the night there, knowing that sleep would be hard to come by in a strange place, with Midas so close to me.

Not that I'd slept any here, in his bed, in his absence. His vacant room felt desolate and forlorn, a sense of kenopsia infusing the atmosphere that left me restless and unsettled. I woke frequently in the night, drenched in a cold sweat, shaken from a nightmare and desperate for his comfort. I missed him terribly, but it was decidedly better than knowing he was nearby, yet still so far out of my reach.

I was the last to arrive outside, just as the henchmen were finishing up loading the awaiting boats. Maya, Tina, and Tek stood huddled on the dock, and I got the distinct impression that they were discussing me, seeing as how the chatter stopped as soon as I approached.