Dimitri stayed seated, watching her with an expression that was more about curiosity than anything else.
Well, he was a scientist, so his interest was clinical and professional. Perhaps he would take it better than others.
Mattie pulled up one leg of her pants, rolling the fabric above her knee to expose the scarring below.
Even after all these years, she still found it hard to look at. The mottled skin, uneven in texture and color. The places where grafts had created smooth patches were surrounded by ridges of damaged tissue. The areas where nerve damage had left the flesh permanently numb or, conversely, hypersensitive to touch.
She held her breath and waited.
Dimitri rose slowly from his chair. He walked around the table until he was standing in front of her, close enough that she could see the slight shadows under his eyes, the faint stubble on his jaw.
He didn't look away. He didn't flinch. And then he knelt in front of her. "May I?" He extended his hand.
She nodded, too choked up to say anything.
His hand was warm and gentle on her skin. "What happened?" he asked with infinite softness.
"A fire started on the first floor of our house. A faulty electrical heater. My parents' bedroom was on the first floor, and they didn't survive. My bedroom was on the second floor, and when I realized what was happening, I tried to go down to them, but the fire was raging, and my legs got burned. I don't remember what happened next, but I was told that the firefighters got inside through my bedroom window and got me out."
He lifted his eyes to her, his hand still gently caressing her ruined leg. "You survived. That's what's important."
"Barely." Her voice cracked. "Sometimes I wonder why. Why me and not them?"
"Survivor's guilt," he said.
"I guess so."
"My grandmother survived a train crash when she was a young woman, but some of the friends traveling with her didn't. She used to say that guilt never went away, but eventually, she learned to carry it instead of letting it carry her. She said the key was finding something worth surviving for."
His hand was warm against her damaged skin. He wasn't pulling away. He wasn't making excuses. He was touching her like she was precious to him.
"It saved you from being sent to the brothel," he said.
"The man who inspected us took one look at my legs and recoiled." She laughed, but there was no humor in it. "First time in my life I was grateful for these scars."
"I know it's a horrible thing to say, but I'm grateful for them too. The brothel would have ruined you much worse than the fire did."
"You're not disgusted?" she whispered.
"Why would I be disgusted?"
"Most people are, though they pretend not to be, which, in a way, is worse."
Dimitri shook his head. "I see evidence of trauma, survival, and healing. I also see potential. Perhaps I can make it better for you." He looked up and smiled. "I'm a pretty good scientist, if I say so myself, and thinking outside the box is my specialty. I might be able to do what the doctors who took care of you couldn't. In my heyday, I was called the Alchemist."
Tears prickled the back of her eyes, and she tried to blink them away, but some managed to escape.
"Hey." Dimitri pushed up to his feet and stepped closer, close enough that she could feel the warmth radiating from his body. "Why are you crying?"
"I'm sorry. I don't know why I got so emotional. I usually don't cry. It's just that you are the first one to look at this and see a challenge instead of something to pity, and I don't know how to feel about it. You probably can't do anything to help me, but it means a lot to me that you want to try."
She was babbling, but she didn't care.
He hooked a finger under her chin and tilted her head so that she had to look into his eyes. "I see a beautiful, intelligent woman who has been dealt an unfair hand in life. I don't know if I will be able to help, but I would like to try. Is that okay with you?"
She nodded. "As long as it doesn't hurt. I've had enough pain to last me a lifetime."
"No pain," he promised solemnly. "Only healing and pleasure."
