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Her body was the favored canvas of ghosts.
A scorched star stretched its flares below her rib; a punishment from when her small trembling hands broke a mug. After a while, she told herself it'd been a kiss from the sun spirit Fikeel, telling her she wasn't alone.
She pretended the bumpy marks on her back were from lying in the grass, nature tickling her skin so hard its fingers fused to her spine, rather than a whip-happy auctioneer forcing straight posture.
And the gashes that'd unzipped her body in fights, both with others and herself, scrawled across her limbs a language she had to trace to understand. Even then, it was a rough translation, but art is up to interpretation. That's what she liked about it.
Maybe that's why she became an artist herself all those years ago. The girl who turned blades toward herself was a ghost now too, buried alongside her chains, but her art still burned. When she disappointed Mafeek in the early days, when the pain of the past became too much without release… It all summoned her back with the familiar ritual. But with her recent mission, she had to leave the dead in its grave.
If she sank back into old habits, there was no way she'd be allowed to stay on the Excalibur. The fact those habits existed at all was why she refused a full medical examination. That and, well, Dureena didn't like being touched. Anyone who saw her body would understand why. But usually, they never got that far.
Sarah was becoming an exception.
But Dureena didn't introduce her to her skin's museum in the sterile white medlab. She also didn't want to throw her into its exhibits without warning. So she stood in her quarters, the only real extension of herself on the ship, walls cocooning her where clothes no longer did.
Sarah stood opposite, still in shock. It wasn't like Dureena could blame her. She used to have the same reaction staring at the roadmap of her skin.
"We can probably do something about those," Sarah said, blinking for what might've been the first time in three minutes. She quickly cleared her throat, adding in an "Only if you'd like."
Dureena shook head, not faulting her for the presumption. There was a time she hated her body, hated what it reminded her of, but now… "They're as much a part of me as anything else."
"So then… why are you showing me?" Sarah asked, like she didn't quite know how to be anything besides a doctor. Maybe it was because no one ever asked her to. Maybe it was because she didn't know what to do besides fall back onto medical knowledge, something safe, when presented with something so…
So gruesome.
"I thought you should know." Know what she was getting into, know what she'd find if she ever slipped off Dureena's clothes, know that even though Dureena wanted that intimacy, it would never be as easy as without unwanted fingerprints or the scar beneath her breast.
After a minute, she took Sarah's hand. She helped her trace the scars around her wrist from shackles. "It's okay, see?"
"I'm sorry," Sarah whispered, fingers pulling back. She tugged at her own sleeve. "I just can't understand how someone could do this to you."
"It wasn't just one person," Dureena corrected, but they might as well have all been the same. Their faces were smeared off in her memories, sometimes their bodies she could picture. Little girls can't see much higher. "But, uh, most of the time, it was because I was there. Other times because I wouldn't obey. You get so many wounds you stop caring, start to get more defiant. You're gonna get punished anyway, might as well earn it. But then I'd get sold again for being too hard to train until…" Until one owner broke everything in her she had left. "Until I learned to listen."
Sarah was still listening intently, her weary eyes still processing it all. So, in an attempt to lighten the mood, Dureena added something else. "I don't know what would've happened if I hadn't gotten out. But I did. I can't shake the past but it isn't going to stop me from living in the present."
With guidance, Sarah continued tracing scars until her hands rested on Dureena's upper arms. Her fingers curved perfectly in line with a bumpy gash mark on the left.
Sarah took a deep breath. "Can I… Can I hug you?"
Dureena almost didn't know how to react, and she wasn't sure if it was because, well… she was used to pity, at this point. It was something she'd take eagerly over hatred. But she wasn't used to concern, to empathy, and she certainly wasn't used to someone asking before laying any sort of touch on her.
She felt like she might cry, so she nodded for confirmation instead.
Sarah's firm embrace felt safe, like the walls around her, like clothes. But a hug wasn't something she could hide behind. It was something that welcomed her for who she was, for everything she'd been through, and the thought of that…
It demolished all resistance she'd been building to her tears.
Sarah pulled away in a move that left her feeling vulnerable, and looked panicked. "I'm sorry. Did I hurt you?"
Dureena shook her head. "No, it's just… No one's ever..." She took a deep breath, trying hard to stop her sobs. "It felt nice."
Dureena leaned into her and Sarah held her close. She fit well in the crooks of Sarah's body, like she could stay there forever taking in the warmth of touch that wouldn't scar.
"Thank you for showing me," Sarah whispered into her hair, pressing a kiss against her head.
Dureena breathed. "Thank you for being someone I could."
Sarah helped her put her clothes back on and for once, Dureena didn't feel like she was hiding herself away beneath the leather. In fact, with Sarah by her side, she felt more herself than she'd ever been before.