Widow

“Should feel like your own skin,” Julian said absently.

Julian stepped back and examined the suit. He shook his head and narrowed his eyes.

Dropping to one knee, he slid a hand along Helena’s outer thigh. “See, doesn’t quite conform to the muscle.”

Helena rolled her shoulders. They felt liquid and strong, and her skin sensed the air's movement.

“Shoulders feel naked,” Helena said.

Julian continued to pick at the suit along her leg, proceeding down to her calf. “Should feel naked.”

His voice continued to feel distant, technical.

Touching her forearm, she slid a hand up and along her arm. A trail of sensation followed, communicating pressure and the warmth of her hand. As it retreated, microcurrents of air played along her arm as though the room breathed.

The heating fan on Julian’s laptop sent a warm breath along her back, the air spreading, billowing, and dissipating. Julian’s fingers traced along her leg. She felt each finger, ring, and pinkie moving individually. Closing her eyes, she sensed the shape of the fingers and wondered if she might read his fingerprints.

“Something’s happening.”

“It’s figuring out your nerve pathways,” Julian replied as he worked on her leg.

She touched her index finger to her thumb and rubbed them together. The ridges of her fingerprint stood out like waves on the ocean, like her sense of touch had become a microscope. Julian continued to work on her leg. She extended a hand and put a fingertip to his cheek, a delicate whisper against his skin.

He moved his hand and wiped the finger away. She returned the touch, and he swiped again like a feather tickled his skin. When his hand touched hers, it brushed past, each texture of his hand and knuckle apparent. He went back to his work.

“Julian,” Helena said.

“Yes,” he said, “Almost done.”

"A girl often wants a young man to buy her dinner before she lets him touch her like that," Helena teased.

Julian stopped, then looked up. His expression faltered, then he looked at his hands against her thigh. He blushed and pulled his hands away.

“I’m sorry, Helena. I wasn’t.”

“Wasn’t feeling up for your date?”

His hands hovered, caught between the desire to perfect his creation and wanting to touch Helena’s body. Pulling back, he sighed and folded his hands together.

"It just wasn’t quite right. The seam didn’t align, and you’d lose about three percent," Julian explained.

“Julian, look at me.”

He looked up. Helena smiled, loving the flush of color. When Julian worked, he was brilliant and precise, and outside of his genius, his raw desire and uncertainty made him nervous, careful, and adorable.

Helena touched a finger to a spot just below her eyes. “Look here, Julian.”

His features softened, and his eyes became dreamy and unfocused. Helena put her fingertips next to his ears. She made a gentle snap that the suit turned into a torrent of sensation.

Julian’s eyes fluttered, then closed. His nervous hands settled and fell limp to his sides, and his body swayed.

"Perfect," Helena said. "I wonder how much more relaxed you might become each time I snap?"

She snapped her fingers and knelt beside him so her mouth was close to his ear.

"Some people forget everything, their minds seeming to empty with all thoughts going blank," Helena said softly.

She snapped again. His eyelids fluttered, and his jaw went slack.

"So good at hearing my snaps and emptying your mind," Helena murmured. "As minds empty, feelings can become even stronger. Affection grows. Nervousness doubles. The desire to please becomes overwhelming."

She snapped her fingers. "And as that desire to please grows, it helps you. Helps you become even more creative and eager. New ideas and new ways to help might occur more and more often as you imagine how much I might enjoy them," Helena said.

Snapping again, she touched his cheek. "So pleased with you, Julian. So eager to hear and see all your ideas as your affection, nervousness, and desire help you come up with new ways to please," Helena said.

His features slack, he leaned against her hand like a puppy. It steadied his sways, and through the suit, he felt weightless as though she could lift him with a finger. She let him drift, allowing the suggestions to root and spread.

“Ok, Julian. When I snap this time, you’ll come back. Most people don’t need to remember anything when coming back from being easy and blank. And, your unconscious can decide to forget when it remembers my words.”

She snapped her fingers. Julian’s eyes clenched, and he opened them. Unfocused, he blinked and looked at Helena, not quite aware of himself.

“I’m not offended that you wanted to touch me, Julian. The suit is kind of sexy, isn’t it?” Helena asked.

Confused, his voice remained flat. “Sexy.”

Helena nodded.

He blinked, and his eyes regained focus. A blush bloomed in his cheeks. “I was just adjusting. It needs to work right.”

Helena winked. “And copping a feel never hurt.”

His face turned crimson.

On a table near the entrance of the lab, a cellphone vibrated three times in quick succession. Helena turned to the sound.

“Is that yours?”

Julian shook his head, his eyes still glassy. Helena rose and found her purse. The phone buzzed again. She saw the alert and dialed. Still sitting on the floor, Julian rubbed his eyes with the back of his hands.

“Dr. Webb?” the voice on the other end asked.

“Yes?”

“Captain O’Malley Metro Police. I apologize for bothering you. We have a hostage situation. It’s a former patient of yours, and they refuse to speak with anyone but you.”

“What’s their name?”

“Carlo Ramos.”

“Ramos?”

“Released as part of the Sentinel cases when the evidence was ruled inadmissible.”

Helena nodded. Carlo. “Thank you, Captain. Where are you?”

He gave the address. Helena ended the call, then dialed a second number.

“Selene Asylum,” the voice replied.

“Good evening. This is Dr. Webb. Have the police requested help with a hostage negotiation?”

“Hello, Dr. Webb. One moment.”

A keyboard clacked in the background. “No requests tonight. Dr. Simmons is on call.”

“Very good. Thank you.”

Helena ended the call and put the phone back in her purse. Julian had moved next to her.

“Helena?”

“Yes?”

“Did you just hypnotize me?”

Helena smiled and faced him. “I might have. Would that be ok?”

He nodded. “I feel a little odd, floaty.”

“You said you were curious about how going into trance might feel.”

He nodded. “Just, sometimes, when we’re together, I lose track of things.”

She lifted her hand, fingers poised together. “Like, if I snap my fingers, your mind might go blank?”

His eyes went to her gloved hand; his eyelids fluttered. “Yes.”

“You’d have to have been deeply trained for that to work, almost like you were my mindless thrall, wouldn’t you?”

He smiled. “Not that I would mind.”

She opened her hand and touched his cheek, then placed a kiss on the other. “I need to go for a bit. I’m on call tonight. We’ll talk about it later. I have to talk to the police.”

“Everything ok?”

“Should be. Just a loose end. I’ll be back as soon as I can.”

She picked up her bag and went up the stairs.

“Helena,” Julian said. “The suit.”

Helena stopped and looked down, noticing the fabric covering her like a second skin.

“It’s an emergency. Will it be ok to leave it on?”

“About ten hours,” Julian said. “It may be awkward at first if you push it. I was more worried that no one could concentrate with you wearing it.”

“I’ll keep my coat on,” Helena said.

Julian nodded. Helena went to the steps and stopped.

She turned back and lifted her hand. “Julian.”

He looked up. She snapped her fingers. His eyes went glassy, and he slumped to the floor.

Helena climbed the stairs and found her car in Julian’s driveway.

Driving to the address, Helena didn’t see any SWAT or police presence. Instead, she found a gravel parking lot glowing orange under sodium arc lights, before a hulking concrete cube that looked like an industrial plant. One car waited. Its flat, gray paint absorbed more light than it reflected. A man stood beside it. He wore a cheap, unpressed suit and worn, unpolished loafers. A bulge appeared under his arm. When Helena’s headlights flashed over him, he exhaled a stream of smoke and tossed a cigarette away.

Helena stopped her car and put it in park. The cop moved towards her door.

Helena shifted, feeling the suit around her. The trap had been set.

The cop reached the door and pulled it open. “Dr. Webb. Thank you.”

“Helena.”

Helena stepped out of the car. The cop pushed the door closed, positioning himself between her and the car. He extended a hand. Helena shook it.

“Captain?”

“Sean,” the cop replied.

“Where is everyone?”

“Had to clear the area. He says he has a bomb.”

Helena scanned the surrounding streets. “Sent them home instead of pulling back?”

He smirked. “Yeah, had to make sure everyone was safe.”

“Before you called me.”

The cop didn’t respond. He smiled and nodded.

From the gloom towards the building, footsteps crunched on the gravel of the parking lot. “Widow. I wondered if I’d ever see you again.”

A silhouette approached.

“Carlo,” Helena said.

“Still don’t remember you, but the captain showed me the videos and the surveillance reports. It seems we know each other well.”

A metallic ratcheting came from Helena’s right. The cop’s handcuffs glittered in the dim light.

“Now, doctor, let’s get these on you before we talk,” Sean said.

Carlo’s face emerged from the gloom. His time in prison had given him a beard. He carried a knife and a bundle of rope.

His expression was intent, but doubt lingered. “You do exist. I remember the restaurant. I remember… someone. Sentinel chased me, and I wound up in prison. The detective showed me the pictures; I felt something, then something else intruded, like a hand over my memory. I couldn’t think of your name.”

The detective closed a hand over her arm, his touch a hard violation through the suit. “Come on, doc.”

She jerked away. The cop looked at his hand, surprised at the ferocity of her movement.

“So, the detective convinced you I had something to do with it,” Helena said.

“I showed him pictures, doc. Quite a coincidence to be rescued by Sentinel twice. Not allowed to believe in coincidences in my business. Staked out your office. Quite the client list,” Sean said.

“And what? I don’t have money,” Helena replied.

Carlo had closed the distance, his knife catching the orange light. The detective had closed in. He put a hand on her shoulder.

“Easy. Just want a piece of things. You’re far more valuable where you are,” Sean said. “Or, the files I have stashed get mailed. Then, no one wins.”

Helena backed away. “Why the handcuffs then? Either I’ll agree or I won’t.”

“Carlo asked the same question, but I told him about Cynthia.”

“You drugged me,” Carlo said. “That’s why I can’t remember.”

“We’re going to need more than your word,” Sean said. “Now, come on. Nothing will change. You keep your job. You keep your contacts. You just throw us a piece, and give us information when we ask.”

Impatient, O’Malley stepped forward. Carlo moved to flank Helena, his face searching her face. O’Malley reached for Helena’s wrist.

Surprising herself, her hand flashed away, and O’Malley caught air, his fingers slapping against each other. A rush of adrenaline flowed into Helena’s system, and for a frozen instant, she saw the cop’s hand extended into space. She reached for his wrist with her right hand. Her hand moved, the glove’s fingers found Sean’s wrist, then squeezed.

Bone and sinew crinkled. Sean grimaced, and his and Helena’s eyes met. Meaning to swing him away, she threw her hand to her left. Sean’s feet lifted off the ground, and he flew, then tumbled. Dust billowed as he tumbled across the gravel.

The power of the throw shifted Helena’s balance; worried, she might fall, she planted a foot expecting to stumble, but the suit forced a charge through her leg. Her foot landed, planted, and stuck.

Carlo stepped back as O’Malley flew past. Shocked, his head snapped to Helena. His hand flexed on the knife. He stalked forward.

Helena spread her feet and braced. Carlo came towards her, knife low. He feinted and shoved the knife at her sternum.

Seeing the thrust and dodging happened together. Her body twisted, the knife glittering in the security lamp as his lunge went past her chest.

Carlo’s knife clanged against the car. It struck at an angle and twisted. He yelped and dropped it. He shook the wrist and cursed as he bent to retrieve it.

Helena leaped forward, her shoulder striking him in the ribs. She accelerated through his body, bending it around her. She drove until he crashed into the police car, ripping the external mirror free. Breath wheezed from his lungs as he slid to the ground.

Helena lifted the knife and turned to O’Malley.

He’d regained his feet. He looked to her, evaluated, and reached for his weapon in a heartbeat. His move towards the gun demonstrated years of practice. Her adrenaline surging, and the suit becoming a living charge, she leaped forward.

Gravel spit from beneath her feet, and her body bent low as her legs pumped.

The cop’s face went from practiced indifference to worry, then to fear, as Helena charged. Air coursed over her shoulders, hips, and arms, and she had the fleeting thought that she could fly. Accelerating across the distance, she continued to gain speed as she held her arms before her. The gun had cleared the holster, and his arm was across his chest when Helena struck him. The metallic shape of the gun appeared in her mind, where it hit her shoulder, followed by the flexing of the cop’s rib cage. A hard breath blasted from his mouth, and he staggered, then was lifted off the ground and flew before crashing against the gravel a second time.

Helena dropped low and slid as the cop flew away, tossing gravel before her. The gun came to rest at her feet. She lifted it and looked to Carlo, who groaned beside the car.

He looked to Helena, then at the knife and gun. Helena glanced at the cop who had rolled onto his side. She walked towards Carlo. He scrambled to his feet. Helena met his eyes and continued stalking towards him.

“What are you going to do? You can’t arrest us.”

Helena realized she’d begun to sweat and wiped her brow with the back of her hand.

“Hands on the car, Carlo,” she said. “You should remember that much.”

Stuffing the gun and knife in her coat pocket, she lifted the rope from the ground and cinched Carlo’s wrists and ankles. She used the knife and cut the excess, and turned back to O’Malley. Bent at the waist, he’d risen to his feet and struggled to catch his breath.

She stalked towards him and held out her hand. “Cuffs.”

“You can’t-“, he gasped. “Can’t arrest us.”

She shook her head and snapped her fingers. The sound echoed off the warehouse like a gunshot. “Cuffs.”

He held them out. Helena snapped them away and gestured for him to turn his back. She closed them over his wrists, then guided him to his car.

Before stuffing the two men into the police car, she found the keys to it in O’Malley’s pocket. As she slid into the driver’s seat, her hands began to shake.

She closed her eyes and took a deep breath, acknowledging the adrenaline dump. Carlo and Sean grumbled while Helena waited for the trembling to subside. Then she started the car and began driving.

“Those files go out if I don’t stop them,” Sean said from the back seat. “Three days.”

Helena looked into the mirror and met his eyes. “You’ll beg me to take them soon.”

She started the car and drove, her eyes going to the two men in the backseat. Carlo shifted against the ropes and looked to O’Malley. O’Malley glared, tracking the street signs like a rat working through a nest of hidden paths.

As Helena continued towards the coast, O’Malley’s tracking became a dawning fear.

“Selene?” he asked.

Helena met his eyes but did not respond.

The gothic tower of Selene rose before them, and Helena drove the car to a rear entrance. Set low in the cliff, the riveted iron door was unmarked and unlit. Helena stopped before it and got out.

She rapped on the door three times. There was no reply, and she rapped again.

Behind the door, a metallic lock was thrown, and the door opened, a faint light spilling from inside.

A bulky guard looked from Helena to the car. “Dr. Webb?”

“Good evening, Harold.”

“Everything ok?”

“Two involuntary admissions, I’m afraid. Danger to themselves. The mayor requested we take them instead of just locking them up.”

Harold looked to the car, then to Helena, his eyes tracing over the dust staining her coat. “You ok?”

Helena nodded. “Just a little flustered. They were pretty abusive. You should be careful.”

Harold’s massive forearm flexed. “We’ll take care of them.”

“Mayor’s sending over the paperwork. We’ll have it by morning.”

“Sure thing. Dr. Webb.”

Towering over the car, Harold opened the rear door. Sean was removed first.

“I’m a cop. You can’t do this.”

Harold’s pushed Sean against the car, a meaty hand in the cop’s back. It pinned him against it. He pointed to Helena. “Dr. Webb says you’re dangerous, and she’s going to help you. Do you understand?”

Sean looked to Helena. Harold pulled Carlo out of the car next. His restraints made it impossible for him to walk, and he shuffled as he looked up at the enormous building towering overhead.

“What is this?”

“Selene,” Sean said. “She’s the director, remember?”

Carlo’s eyes went wide. “No, you can’t-“

“They’ll miss me at the precinct,” Sean said, his voice too quiet.

Carlo swallowed.

Harold guided the two men towards the door. As both passed Helena, their eyes pleaded.

“Everything is going to be fine,” Helena said.

Once inside, Harold stepped back to close the door. “You sure you’re ok, Dr. Webb?”

Helena smiled. “Thanks. I’ll be ok. Take good care of them.”

Harold nodded and pulled the door. It clanged shut, the lock rattling as a punctuation.

Helena drove Sean’s car back to the parking lot and retrieved her own. Her cellphone lay on the passenger seat. She’d received a text message from Julian.

“Thinking of you. Hope you’re ok. Hope the suit is working.”

She typed back: “I’m fine. Suit’s amazing. You’re amazing.”

The cursor blinked, then a message appeared. “So glad. I have a surprise. I hope I can see you soon.”

“Maybe tonight. Details to clear up here.”

“Already miss you.”

“Could not be more pleased with you.”

Her nerves had settled by the time she’d returned to Selene. Parking in her spot, she entered through the main entrance and went to her office. Picking through the forms for involuntary admission, she filled them out, then dialed a number.

“Helena,” the mayor said. “It’s late.”

“I apologize, your honor, but I have two patients, and it’s an emergency.”

“How can I help?”

“One’s a detective, Captain O’Malley. The other is a convicted felon, Carlo Ramos. I believe they’ve experienced a psychological break. I’d like to hold them for observation.”

“Of course. I trust your judgment.”

“Thank you, your honor. I’ll have the paperwork on your desk first thing tomorrow. I apologize for bothering you.”

“Anything for you, Helena.”

“Thank you, your honor.”

She hung up the phone, signed the order, and left it on her secretary’s desk.

Going to the elevator, she pushed the button for the bottom floor. Once there, Harold opened the security door.

“Got them cleaned up,” he said. “They’re in room six.”

Helena looked to the door and paused. “Is Jason up?”

“Sentinel? I’m not sure he sleeps.”

“Could you bring him?”

“Of course.”

“Thanks, Harold.”

Helena waited as Harold went to the patients’ cells. He returned a moment later. Jason, his eyes tired and red-rimmed, trudged up the hallway. Glancing towards the exit, he saw Helena. His eyes widened, and he stopped walking.

“Where’d you get that?”

Harold gripped Jason’s cuffs. “Easy.”

Jason refused to move. “The suit. Where?”

“Julian made it for me.”

Eyes narrowing, he shook his head. “No, he didn’t. He couldn’t have.”

“You betrayed him, Jason. He needed your help with the court case, and you abandoned him.”

“I didn’t. You-“

“Ok. Let’s go easy,” Harold said and nudged Jason forward and into the room.

Helena’s body tingled as Jason’s eyes bored into her, then vanished into the examination room.

Harold emerged a moment later and shook his head. “All yours, Dr. Webb.”

Helena rose and entered the examination room.

The three men sat in a row. O’Malley and Carlo had been given fresh fatigues in institutional green. Jason wore a matching set. He glared at Helena as she entered, his eyes flicking to the edges of the suit that appeared under her jacket.

“What did you do to him?” he asked.

Helena sat down and crossed her legs.

“I just spoke with the mayor,” she said to Sean and Carlo. “He’s approved you staying here for a few days, just for observation.”

Jason looked at them both from the corner of his eye. A flicker of recognition passed between him and Carlo.

Helena turned to the medical cabinet and removed three syringes. “You’ve all had psychological breaks, but I have high hopes that you can recover.”

She removed a vial and filled each syringe, tapping the bubbles out.

Behind her, Jason sighed. Helena rose and went to Carlo first, dabbing alcohol at the vein at the crook of his elbow.

“Widow, don’t. I’m sorry. Don’t, please,” Carlo said.

Helena slid the needle into the vein and pushed the drug into his bloodstream. “Get used to pleading, Carlo. You’ll find the need to make me.”

“Who’s Widow?” Jason asked.

Helena glanced at him and smiled. She retrieved a second syringe and dosed O’Malley.

“Widow,” Carlo said, his voice flattening. “Helena.”

Helena took the third vial and approached Jason.

“Widow?” Jason asked.

Helena raised an eyebrow, the needle poised at Jason’s elbow. She watched his eyes as she pushed the dose in.

“Widow,” Helena said.

As his eyes softened, the realization hit him. “The terrariums. Widows.”

Helena touched Jason’s cheek. “Yes.”

Discarding the used syringes, she opened the case on the floor and lifted out the first of the three virtual reality helmets. Carlos’ features had gone slack, and he stared into space. She set the helmet on his head and fixed the earpieces.

She repeated the process with O’Malley, who shook his head in repeated, lazy motions.

“No, no…”

The drug sapped his strength, and the denials turned to murmurs. Helena secured the helmet.

Saving Sentinel for last, Helena smiled at him as she bent to put the helmet over his eyes.

“This whole time,” he murmured.

“Yes, Jason, this whole time,” she said, fitting the helmet.

Tapping the power switch on each in turn, the swelling sounds of the binaurals filtered into the room. Carlo’s face hung open, his jaw slack. O’Malley slumped, his head looking to the ground.

Sentinel’s jaw flexed. He clenched his hands into fists. Helena leaned against the wall and watched.

The muscle fatigue made his muscles quiver, and, like taking a breath, he released his fist and gripped again. The quivering faded, and his hand went slack.

Helena sighed, a rush of pleasure going through her. Sentinel’s hand closed into a fist a final time, the fingers not fully closing. His jaw relaxed, and his mouth fell open. The clenched hand went slack.

Helena waited. Carlo and O’Malley had gone fully limp, and Sentinel offered a final murmur before his body relaxed against his restraints.

Helena stretched against the ache in her body and rapped on the door.

“I’ll check on them in about three hours,” Helena said.

“It’s late,” Harold said. “You should sleep.”

Helena wiped a hand along the sleeves of her suit. “Too wired to sleep.”

***

The following evening, the sun was setting when Helena pulled into Julian’s driveway. Before the car had stopped, he’d opened the door and rushed to greet her. When she stepped out of the car, he pulled her into a gentle and insistent hug.

“Been thinking about you all day,” he said.

She patted his cheek and bent back to the car, retrieving the folded suit. She presented it.

“Got it a little dirty,” she said.

“Worked ok?”

“It was amazing. You’re amazing, Julian.”

He closed his eyes as the pleasure of her praise rolled through him.

“You said you had a surprise?” Helena asked. “I’ve been wondering.”

He grasped her hand. “Yes, let me show you.”

They proceeded through the house and down into the basement. Julian stepped around a lab bench, putting it between himself and Helena.

A suit had been laid out. Pitch black, thin silver striping ran along the outer edges, twining around the thighs and hands in spiderweb patterns. A red hourglass was stitched into the center of the chest and on the backs of the hands.

Julian looked from the suit to Helena, his face expectant.

Helena approached and ran her hand over the fabric.

“I’ll transfer what the old one learned from you wearing it. This one will be about ten percent more responsive.”

Helena continued to stroke the material. Julian waited, trembling with anticipation.

“What do you think?”

“I think I need to try it on,” Helena said.

She looked at Julian with a mischievous smile. “Would you help me?”

He blushed.

Ten minutes later, Helena stood before a full-length mirror. Julian had stitched the webbing to highlight the shape of her body. Turning in her image, Helena felt beautiful and predatory. Julian stood just behind her, eyes going over her figure, desire and evaluation warring with each other.

Noticing a detail, he dropped to one knee and smoothed an invisible wrinkle. In the reflection, Helena saw a thrall bending to offer eternal loyalty. As the thought came to her, her hand moved and lay atop his head with regal grace.

“You’re beautiful, Helena,” Julian said.

“Widow,” Helena corrected.