Disclaimer: None of this belongs to me. Right. You know that. At least I *hope* you do. If not, I'm sure someone somewhere along the way screwed up big time.
Black is Black
by Crystal Dawn Phoenix
Outside of the familiar flower shop, two nearly identical girls stopped to talk to each other. The cheerful sunflowers and lilies and roses seemed to smile at them as the one in the yellow vest and white undershirt pushed her sleeves up, preparing for her day at work. The little old lady behind them, as well as the girl with the black braids slung over her shoulders, smiled at her in return. All three laughed a little as they headed inside the shop to get to work.
The engine of an inconspicuous black sedan, parked across the street from the Koneko, revved as the driver turned the key in the ignition. The driver, as it turned out, was a comely woman in her mid-twenties. Her well-manicured hands moved from the ignition to the steering wheel as she watched the girls with large green eyes. Her bow-shaped red lips curved up in a smile and the red ringlets around her head bounced a bit as she leaned her head back against the car seat. She peered out at the two girls walking into the shop, looking past the woman who sat in her passenger's seat.
That woman, barely as old as the driver, had thin, black hair, pulled up onto the top of her head and styled to fall into her large brown eyes. She was dressed in a pale lavender business suit that revealed her ample cleavage. The driver thought it suited her, really; a woman with a pair of breasts that nice should show them off, was her line of reasoning.
Her eyes focused on the dark-haired woman as she thought of her fondly. She was her best friend, her partner. Her Birman. After everything they'd been through in the past few days, she was glad to still have her.
The redhead put the car into gear and pulled away from the curb, merging into traffic. Her eyes focused on the road as Birman's continued to stare blankly out the window of the car.
"They should have a good life now," Birman commented. Manx hummed her approval.
"Now that everything's settled down," Manx agreed.
"Should we tell them?" Birman asked softly, "They might want to see Aya and the others." Manx cocked her head to the side, continuing to look out the windshield of the car at the busy city road ahead.
"It might be dangerous," Manx pointed out, "They would want to see him again. They might get wrapped up in our business again." Birman continued to stare boredly out the window.
"You're right," she conceded softly, "Kids like that don't need to get involved in our world."
"It's better if he makes that decision, anyway," Manx said thoughtfully, "If he wants to see them, it's up to him." Manx pulled to a stop at a light, switching her blinker on.
"It's almost as if," Birman commented, almost entirely lost in thought, "We're alone in this. You can't touch anyone outside of this black underworld, because they're put in danger. All we have is each other." Without looking down, Manx's hand drifted over to the passenger's seat, covering the hand that rested on Birman's thigh. She squeezed, gently drawing the other woman's hand away from her thighs and toward Manx's own face. As she waited on the light to turn green, Manx placed a small kiss on her partner's fingers.
"We are each precious to each other," she agreed softly, releasing Birman's hand as the stoplight turned from red to green. She turned through the intersection and the two continued to drive in comfortable silence for a bit.
"I'm curious," Manx said, finally breaking the silence, "The other day..." Birman raised an eyebrow, but did not turn to watch the redhead. Likewise, Manx never took her eyes off the road.
"Yes?" Birman prompted softly.
"When you contacted me," Manx continued, "To tell me about the Estet's ceremony. If you had waited any later, I would have been too late to help them." Birman made a sound of acknowledgment deep in her throat.
"The network was down," Birman replied simply.
"You have my cell phone number," Manx reminded her, smiling softly to let her know she wasn't trying to be accusatory, "You could have just called me to begin with." Birman blinked slowly and took a deep breath, exhaling gradually.
"I could have," she said softly, choosing her words carefully, "But I didn't want to. I didn't want to involve you. It was too dangerous." Manx knew that it was probably very hard for her to admit that. In their line of business, a protective attitude like that could result in the loss of several of their co-worker's lives.
"You don't have to worry about protecting me," Manx said softly, her forgiveness showing through in her voice, "It's part of our job." Birman laid her head back against the headrest of her seat, turning her head to the side to look at Manx, a small smile forming on her lips.
"I know," she agreed, "But you're the one person I don't want to lose." Her hand found the one with the red nails that rested on the gear shifter knob between the seats, her fingers nestling between the well-manicured ones.
"Black is to black," Manx said quietly, "Once you enter this world, you can never leave again. I'm strong. You won't ever have to do without me." Birman smiled sweetly as Manx looked at her with a fond and sentimental gaze.
"Me either," Birman replied.