Heart of Steel Ch. 03

"Oh right, sorry. That's a great idea." Tristan admitted, rising and strolling into his room.

Therein, he disrobed. When Maul had first moved in, Tristan had taken to disrobing in the bathroom, with the door shut. They'd seen each other naked already, but he felt sheepish about being so casual about it. Maul had, with his consent, put an end to that. / Nothing to be ashamed about for either of our bodies,/ he recalled her telling him, /so no need to hide yours away from me unless it really makes you unhappy./ And since it didn't truly, when he thought about it, then Tristan was happy to be exposed before Maul in the privacy of their shared home. And she felt of course the same way, though she did not go through that period of bashfulness.

Tristan walked into the bathroom and started up the shower, letting the water run until it grew warm and the mirror above the sink steamed up. Then, he stepped under the shower and drew the curtain behind him. The water struck him, warming him and scrubbing away the exertions of his physical endeavors. The shower had once been such a relaxing place for him, a place where Tristan felt free from time's passing, where work was held at bay, and he could simply relax. After all he'd endured, he no longer felt that sensation of safety, for it was replaced by memories of discomfort and violation. Tristan reflected on this as he cleaned his hair and scrubbed his body.

"Hey babe," came Maul's voice suddenly, "may I join you?"

Tristan wheeled about, his back against the shower wall, and beheld Maul, naked before him, having drawn aside the curtain. She smiled that devilish little smile and began to step into the tub, until she saw Tristan's expression, that familiar fear in his eyes, that trembling in his every nerve, the far away expression on his face, as though he were looking not at, but through her. She stopped short.

"Babe, it's okay," she soothed, "I don't have to join you, it's okay. I'll wait 'til you're done, it's okay."

And just like that, Maul was gone from the room, shutting the bathroom door behind her and leaving Tristan to conclude his bathing. Tristan loved her so much for that. As he exited the shower and dried off, she peeked her head into the bathroom.

"You alright, honey?" she asked gently.

"Yeah," he replied, "thanks for being so understanding about when I just can't do stuff, it means the world to me. It may pass eventually."

"Whether it does or doesn't," she assured him, striding into the room and entering the shower, "I'll always support you and help out however I can."

"You are just the best girl ever."

Tristan couldn't help but watch her bathe. So long as he wasn't in there with her, feeling other hands, even just Maul's hands, upon him while he was in that formerly-sacred place of relaxation and cleanliness, he wasn't bothered. Maul noticed him observing her as she shampooed her shoulder-length hair and returned his gaze with that winning smile of her's. She then began to put on a bit of a show for him, slowly running her fingers through her hair, rinsing it out slowly with delicate, sensual caresses. This pattern followed for the rest of her bathing. She positioned herself in rather pleasing, provocative poses and went about scrubbing her body with a deliberate flare, always making sure Tristan was watching her through the translucent curtain.

"You're trying to drive me mad, aren't you?" Tristan asked playfully.

"Can't drive you somewhere you've already taken up permanent residence." she quipped in a particularly flirtatious tone.

Laughing, Tristan strode from the room and flopped on the bed, laying there and enjoying the cool apartment air on his skin. A few minutes later, the shower turned off and he could hear Maul puttering about in the bathroom. Then she emerged, still naked and glorious and strode toward the bed at a sensual gait that emphasized the movement of her hips.

"You are just really amping up the sexy today, aren't you?" Tristan noted.

"Turned it up to eleven." Maul agreed as she crawled over him on the bed, her still-wet hair tickling his skin.

Tristan and Maul didn't get out of bed until a while later that evening. When Tristan finally did emerge from the bedroom, he was sporting several bite marks on his chest, and he could still clearly feel the path that Maul's nails had traced down his back. But he loved every aspect of it. Her rough play was so endearing to him, and she was always so conscientious about how he felt and what he was thinking. / I couldn't have ended up with a better girlfriend,/ Tristan noted happily. He only hoped he made Maul quite as happy as she made him.

The next few weeks went on by smoothly. Tristan's schooling was relatively easy. An English literature course, a history class, a basic mathematics course, a German class, and a course entitled "Feminist Debate." The debate class and the mathematics course were meant to fulfill basic school criterion, as the university demanded a well-rounded set of credits from its students. But the math was easy, and the debating of feminist issues was relatively interesting. Though sometimes, the anger expressed so vehemently by females in the class would make Tristan feel nervous and uncomfortable. Not that he disagreed with them in their approach to social issues, but just the raised, harsh tone of an angry female voice seemed to make his pulse jump a bit, his body tense up, and that wasn't pleasant.

After class, he would often go to work at Records, restocking shelves or (now) manning the register. Tony had taken to trusting Tristan in closing up the shop, so he'd often leave Tristan and Dave alone to work whilst he ventured off toward other pursuits. The two boys had fun, ordering food and wasting away the hours discussing music, life, girls, and other such matters. Dave never asked Tristan what had happened during his month of absence, it never really came up between them, and Tristan was okay with that. If Dave found out, he'd find out, but it wasn't relevant to bring it up. Oftentimes, Maul would join them, spreading out her homework on a table and working while the boys kept shop. She'd often make coffee runs for them when they were stuck working the closing shift.

On the days that he wasn't working, Tristan would return home, change clothes, and run to the gym. He and Bradley worked out together, each taking it in turn to spot the other on the heavier weights. In time, Tristan began to bulk up a bit more, adding muscle-mass to his slender frame. He started to really feel the difference: the strength in his movements, the solidity of his arms, it was all coming together. By mid March, he was really feeling the strength flow through him, and it earned him much praise from Dave, Maul, and Bradley alike. By the time Spring Break rolled around, Tristan was feeling good. Even his nightmares, while still present, were starting to subside as he grew back into a routine, into familiarity, and as he grew more comfortable with himself. This made the shock of a particular chance encounter all the more devastating when it at last came to pass.

Chapter 13: Tormentor

How could he have predicted it, how could he have ever seen it coming? His life was in the upswing, all was going well. Perhaps it all was doomed to come down eventually. But whatever the reason, he still could not deal with it. Tristan had avoided metal shows, even passing up some good opportunities, until Maul proposed they go see Necrosadist at the Den to start off Spring Break. Nervous as he was for his memories of his last concert, rather, his post-concert experience, Tristan decided to be bold and to go. / Those girls won't take away my love of metal shows,/ he assured himself.

And they did not, for he truly enjoyed himself. Nor were they present after the show to spirit him away once again to another long month of helplessness and misery. Instead, Tristan, Maul, Dave, and even Bradley, attended the show together. Bradley, it turned out, was rather more into heavy music than he was into the rap that saturated the school gym. In that fact, he and Tristan became even closer friends, and Bradley was warmly accepted by Maul and Dave, amiable as they were. And so the show was much enjoyed by all of them, particularly the mosh pit, which Maul survived by riding on the shoulders of either of the three boys intermittently, all of them able to carry her slender frame.

After the show, they retired to Tristan's and Maul's apartment to drink the night away and rant about school and other such irksome forces in their lives. And amongst them, Tristan was happy. He didn't think about his recent past, his fears, his anxiety. He only had time for the events at hand and drunken prospects of the future. He brought out his guitar and the four friends launched into loud renditions of their favorite metal songs with Tristan performing both guitar and vocal duties. Everything was going so smoothly, he never thought for a moment that anything could damage his world so quickly.

The Necrosadist concert was on a Friday, the first of Spring Break. That subsequent Sunday, Tristan went out to the grocery store to restock on food and other supplies for the apartment. The local grocery store was reasonably sized, and a typical store in every respect, with its well-lit aisles of packaged food, its produce section, and its frozen food section which Tristan always enjoyed for its temperature. Tristan was just rounding the corner onto the cereal aisle, ready to pick out some nice breakfast cereal, when he almost ran headlong into another person. He'd been humming along to a song in his head and not at all paying attention to his movements, which is why he stopped just short of knocking over the other person, who looked up at him.

"Tristan?!"

"Mai..."

At this point, Tristan expected the floor to cave in beneath him, the walls to come crashing down, the world to dissolve into some dream horror as always it did. Worse still, when no such thing happened, he expected Crystal and Hilja to emerge from behind him, to seize Tristan and march him out to their vehicle. / Maul will never know what happened to me,/ he thought, /I'll have just disappeared on a trip to the store. She'll look for me, but how long will it /take?/ Yet, strong as his fears were, nothing of the sort happened. Mai only stared at him, his more powerfully muscled build eclipsed by the look of horror on his face.

"Tristan." she moved closer.

"Get away from me." he said, so weakly, so quietly. "Get away."

Mai stepped closer and took his hand gently but firmly, holding it tight in her's, staring into his eyes with the ferocious urge to be heard.

"Tristan," she implored, "I'm not with the others anymore, I moved out after they made me get rid of you. We can be friends now, you and I, just friends. Wouldn't you like that? Nothing like before, I promise."

"Mai."

"Please Tristan, I've been so lonely since I left them. Be my friend?"

Tristan ran. He abandoned the groceries, he just ran, letting his newly-attained strength whisk him out of the store and down a side street, out by the store trash bins where he hid, crouched down, cowering, as though he were being pursued. And by his reckoning, he very well may have been pursued by Mai, or all of the three. / How could she be trusted to speak any truth?/ Tristan fumbled in his wallet for a card given to him shortly after his freedom from captivity, belonging to one Stacy Anderson of the Pine Ridge Police Department.

"Anderson." came the crisp response over Tristan's phone.

"Ma'am," Tristan stammered, his voice cracking, "my name is Tristan, you gave me your card last year when I tried to report a crime."

"Uh... yes, yes I remember you. Is everything okay?"

"No, I need help. I'm scared."

"Is someone hurting you, Tristan?"

"I ran into one of the girls at the grocery store and I'm afraid the others are around." he explained, panic filling his voice. "Please come help me!"

"Stay where you are." she briskly instructed, and the phone went dead.

Twenty-five minutes later, a knock at the door got Maul's attention as she sat upon the couch, painting her nails. She rose and opened the door to find Tristan and a kind looking woman in a police uniform, who let herself inside. Maul ran to Tristan, who was white and shaking. She embraced him tightly.

"He saw one of the girls." the police woman said, assuming Maul would appreciate the significance of it.

"Oh God, is he okay?" Maul immediately demanded.

"Just shaken beyond belief." the officer said. "I have to get back to the station, but call me if you ever need anything."

"Thank you." Tristan meekly murmured.

She departed from the apartment, leaving Tristan to collapse onto the couch, burying his face in a cushion. Maul moved over to him and, affectionate as she was, lay down on top of his back as though he were a body-pillow, her head next to his on the cushion. But she just lay there, not trying to pry emotions from him, not trying to tell him it was okay, she just lay there and made him feel safe while he shuddered and whimpered, venting his primal fear.

"Tristan," she spoke at last, "would you like to talk about it?"

"I saw Mai," he explained, turning his face so he could look at Maul rather than staring into the couch cushion, "just there in the store, I almost ran right into her. Gods, I touched her, she touched my hand."

"Poor thing."

"I didn't know what to do," he went on, "I just froze up and then ran. I have never been so scared, Maul."

"You're safe now," she assured, "Maul is here, I'll protect you, honey."

"What will I do?" Tristan asked. "I can't go out there, can't see them again. She said she wasn't living with the others anymore, but what if they're still around?"

"That's it then," Maul said, "strong as you're getting, you still don't feel safe. You need to learn to defend yourself."

"What?"

"You have to learn to fight."

"Maul..."

"Tristan, hear me out," she encouraged, "what good is strength if you don't know how to use it. If you can start to practice, to learn how to fight, and you ever see those girls again, you'll have the technique to protect yourself. If they move toward you, your mind will register how they're moving, how you can use it against them, instead of focusing on who they are and what they've done."

"I guess so."

"At least give it a try?"

"Sure, I'll try."

Tristan wasn't too sure about this one, but maybe Maul had a point. When Mai had approached him, had taken his hand, he'd been frozen in memories of her past actions and of those associated with her. If he could internalize defensive, even offensive combat strategies, then when an unwanted attacker took his hand, or grabbed him, or anything, maybe he'd just react, just know what to do, how to take action, thinking of this person just as an attacker fitting into a specific scenario needing a specific response, rather than thinking of who they were or what they'd done.

"But Maul," he said at last, "isn't it kind of fucked up to learn to fight so I can defend myself against women?"

"How so?"

"I mean fighting girls," he replied, "isn't it a bit... wrong? More traditional people think so, even progressive people think so. Violence toward women is evil, I can't participate in that."

"Tristan," Maul offered, hugging him tight, "it may be seen as wrong by people of every social or political camp, but I would rather you learn to protect yourself against these girls, even if that means enacting violence on these specific women, than have you in misery and fear or possibly worse."

"I won't be much liked by anyone if it ever comes down to that and I have to exert violence." Tristan noted.

"True," Maul agreed, "you really will have an uphill social battle if it does come to that. But you'll be safe, not captured or hurt, and I will be with you to defend you and stand with you."

"Thank you, Maul."

Maul was surprisingly quick with making arrangements, which is why the very next day, Tristan found himself in his exercise gear at the school gym, in the room with all the mats, standing across from a tough-looking girl also in exercise gear. Apparently she was an acquaintance Maul had made during class at some point. The girl was a skilled martial artist who taught Women's Self-Defense.

"So really," she said, "the ideal tactic if your being attacked in a non-tournament situation, that is a situation where you're actually in danger, is just to go for the balls. Just kick him in the nuts and run."

She laughed.

"Well," Tristan murmured, "that's kind of a problem because the attackers I'm worried about... well I can't rely on that tactic for them."

The girl, who was tall, tan-skinned, and broadly built, looked confused. Tristan recalled that her name was Sarah. Sarah thought for a moment, then spoke.

"You want me to show you how to beat up women?" she looked very upset now, even angry.

"No, listen," Tristan hastily corrected, "it's not that I want to hurt anyone, I swear."

"Go on."

"The people who have me worried," Tristan said, "are women, yes, and I want to learn to protect myself from them. But I don't want to indiscriminately harm women, I want to be able to defend myself from anyone. I don't want to have to rely on a specific aspect of the male anatomy as key to my self-defense."

Sarah thought about this for a moment. Even standing still, her musculature was startlingly visible.

"Alright," she said at last, "I'll teach you how to fight, Maul says your cool and she's trustworthy, if a bit odd. But if I hear about you hurting any woman on campus, I will not hesitate to find you and make things right. Understand?"

"Yes, yes." insisted Tristan. "I just want to learn to fight, to defend mostly, but to attack if necessary if I'm ever attacked. By anyone. I just want to feel safe."

"Fair enough." she relented, looking a bit more kind.

Thus began Tristan's rigorous training. Sarah was skillful in her technique, and a good teacher. She would demonstrate moves, techniques of all sorts, both slowly and at full speed, and then coach Tristan through trying them. They worked for a long while, and planned to meet regularly. Between work, working out, and homework, Tristan was beginning to develop a rather packed schedule. But he liked it, he liked learning to feel safe by learning to fight. And he liked having much to do, little time to sit and feel sorry for himself or vividly recall his discomfort from the past.

Chapter 14: Hellbent for Leather

Maul and Tristan lay in bed next to each other. It had been a while now, Spring Break had passed, and this night was a Friday night. A fact for which they were both thankful. Maul was still breathing heavily from their very recent intimate activities.

"Tristan," she said at last, "are you thoroughly satisfied with all of this?"

"What do you mean? I love you."

"Silly, I know that," Maul laughed, pinching his cheek with her maroon-nailed fingers, "I just mean with the sex. When we finish up, you're always still somewhat excited it seems like, like you're still hard. You know?"

"Guess that's just how I am." Tristan offered in response.

Tristan was always honest with Maul, he trusted her and he loved her. Their sex was very satisfying, and very rough (these two things having a very strong correlation), but he found himself hesitant to tell her about his more... kinky interests. Would she except it? Would she be confused by it? Would she feel pressured into doing something she didn't want? The questions burned inside his head and he was terrified by the potential answers, his mind leaping to the worst case scenario in each instance. He couldn't tell her, it just wasn't worth the risk. He was satisfied and that was good enough for him.