Blue Skye

5 October 3050

Visinur, Ridderkerk

Wolf Clan Occupation Zone

The next time, Margaidh’s neural responses were up to four percent, but she didn’t feel any different and her legs were still limp and useless. Only another hundred and sixteen to go, she thought to herself, wondering if she would ever make it. But Jordan decided to allow her out of the medical bay and back to her old room, provided she came back first thing every morning for a check-up, and let him know at the first sign of any movement. The last instruction was sweetened with a promise about starting to walk again.

Margaidh discovered the hard way how narrow the lift doors were, but with a good deal of wriggling she managed to get up to the third floor, and into her room. When Kristen returned after work, she squealed with delight and gave Margaidh a hug. “I wasn’t expecting you out so soon!” she exclaimed. “Does this mean you’re really on the mend?”

Margaidh shrugged. “I suppose, though I can’t say I’ve noticed much improvement yet.”

“We have to go out and celebrate!” Kristen said.

“I don’t really feel like…”

“Oh, don’t be such a bore, Mags.”

So Margaidh reluctantly agreed, and that evening the two girls visited a nightspot known locally as Sally’s Bar and Grill. The only catch was that Domask and Jasmine both insisted on accompanying them. Bondsmen were not allowed to socialise off-base alone.

Sally’s Bar and Grill was once an out-of-the way place with a small and rather uncouth clientele, but since the invasion it had become famous as the only site of combat within Visinur itself. A mixed company of Lyran infantry and waitresses had almost succeeded in capturing an elemental inside the bar, and with the influx of customers wanting to see the place, the proprietor had managed to save sufficient funds to repair the damage.

While Domask and Jasmine sat at a nearby table keeping a careful watch of their charges, Margaidh and Kristen made a bee-line for the bar. Margaidh discovered how useful a wheelchair was for getting people to move out of the way, and when they reached the bar, she craned her neck to see over the top.

“What can I get you two lovely ladies?” asked the barman, a rather overwight, middle-aged man looking odd in a black tuxedo.

“Two PPC’s,” Margaidh said, before Kristen had time to reply. “One Steiner, one Skye.” The barman frowned, and once again Margaidh had to explain how to make the drink.

Kristen gaped at Margaidh. “And I thought you were such a goody-two-shoes,” she said with a grin.

“I’m in a mean mood,” Margaidh replied. When the drink arrived she nodded at Kristen. “Sláinte mhór,” she said, then knocked it back in her usual manner, and thumped the empty glass back on the bar top. “Now I’ll have something decent,” she said to the barman. “A double scotch, neat. And it better be a good one, I don’t want any of that Donegal piss.”

To Margaidh’s dismay, ‘Donegal piss’ was all they had, but after a couple of doubles, she decided she didn’t care. Kristen was simply amazed at just how much alcohol Margaidh could knock back without any apparent ill-effects.

“It’s my mam’s fault,” Margaidh explained. “She hit the bottle hard after her accident, and being an impressionable teenager, I suppose I just copied her example. I used to steal Scotch from her drinks cabinet and take it to school. I got suspended once for drinking in class, and I drank a whole bottle of the best Skye malt on the night before my final exam at Sanglamore.” Kristen gaped. “Mind you, I still passed with a Distinction,” Margaidh added, grinning as she downed her fourth and ordered another.

The barman was beginning to get anxious. “Are you sure you want another, missy?” he said.

Margaidh frowned up at him, irritated at being called ‘missy’. “I’m sure,” she said. “I was legless when I came in,” she added with a grin, tapping at the wheelchair. “What do you want me to do, walk in a straight line?”

The barman shook his head and brought Margaidh another drink.

“I noticed Domask has hardly left you alone since your accident,” Kristen said. Margaidh nodded. “You know, if I didn’t know better, I’d say there was something going on between you. You’re fond of him, aren’t you?”

Margaidh nodded, glancing across towards the table where he and Jasmine were deep in conversation. “I am fond of him, but it’s not romantic or anything like that. He’s… more like an older brother, or the father I never had.” She watched Domask for a while, then her attention was caught by a group of young people out on the dance floor, and Margaidh felt a sudden longing to be able to join them. She wheeled herself back to the bar, bought a bottle of Donegal Scotch to take away, and nodded at Kristen. “I want to go home now,” she said, the smile on her face now gone.

When they got back to her room, Margaidh realised that she’d called it ‘home’ for the first time ever, even though this was only her first night there in nearly a month. Kristen helped her onto the lower bunk and folded the wheelchair because the room was really too small for it, and Margaidh lay on her front, pouring scotch into two glasses on the floor.

“You really shouldn’t have any more, Mags,” Kristen said, putting a hand up for Margaidh to stop pouring. “You’ll be ill.”

“I never get ill with scotch,” Margaidh said, picking up her own glass. “Other things, sometimes, but never with scotch.”

“Hmm, well I don’t want to have to wheel you all the way back to hospital to get your stomach pumped out,” Kristen remarked. She paused to watch Margaidh, who was looking at her glass but with a vacant, faraway gaze. She saw too, a tear trickling down Margaidh’s cheek.

“Margaidh? What’s wrong? Mags?”

Margaidh snapped back to reality, and looked at Kristen. Her eyes were wide with fear. “What if the treatment hasn’t worked, Kristen?” she whispered.

“I’m sure you’ll recover, Mags. Doctor Jordan said you were getting on fine.”

But Margaidh was unconvinced and she started to cry, so Kristen gently took her glass out of her hand and set it on the desk before putting her arms around Margaidh’s heaving shoulders. “Don’t cry, Mags, please,” Kristen said, trying to bite back tears of her own. Margaidh rested her head on Kristen’s shoulder and as her sobbing began to subside once more she found the steady rhythm of her heartbeat a comfort. Like a baby in the womb.

Afterwards, when she thought about the events that followed, Margaidh could not be sure who started it, or what exactly happened. But somehow, she found herself lying on the bunk with Kristen’s bare skin pressed close up against her own. She closed her eyes and buried her face in her soft red hair, concentrating only on the scent of whatever shampoo she’d used earlier that day, and taking pleasure from the gentle touch of Kristen’s hands on her naked body.

She gave a soft sigh, and began to reciprocate, feeling the softness of Kristen’s own silky white skin. Kristen squirmed with pleasure as Margaidh’s hands caressed her breasts and her lips closed on Kristen’s own in a tender and passionate kiss. Margaidh felt Kristen take hold of her wrist and gently slide her hand down over her abdomen until she could feel soft curly hair. Then Margaidh’s fingers searched deeper until she felt wetness, and Kristen’s back arched with the thrill of Margaidh’s touch.

It did not matter to Margaidh that she could not enjoy the same pleasure from Kristen’s touch as Kristen enjoyed from her own. As the two girls lay together in a close embrace, she felt only contentment, and she listened once again to Kristen’s heartbeat as it slowed from its racing beat to a steadier rhythm.

All too soon, it seemed, Margaidh’s back started to ache and she hauled herself up to sit on the edge of the bed, leaning on the wall for support.

“Mags?” Are you okay?” Kristen asked anxiously, suddenly afraid that Margaidh shouldn’t have done what she did in her condition.

Margaidh nodded. “Aff,” she said, with a smile. “I am fine.”