Spoiler warning: This fic is set after the final FMP novel, it contains spoilers from that novel and the earlier ones. So please consider yourself warned! :)
Author's notes: This fic is the first I have written in a long time, a couple of years in fact, it is also my first fic in this fandom. So please any constructive criticism is welcomed. I am an Australian and for that reason I do use UK spelling. Please read and review!
Disclaimer: I do not own FMP.
Bittersweet.
Dark plumes of smoke dance against the sky. They rise in dark sooty columns from the still burning wreckage of the helicopter. His breathing is ragged, gasping. His heart pounds and his whole body burns from the impact, and a dozen cuts and abrasions, but it is nothing to the words that pound relentlessly in his skull.
"You're a lamb, brought up by a pack of wolves. You don't need blood, you've no taste for flesh, but you still pretend to be a wolf, because if you didn't, you would die. Is there a more twisted and sorrowful existence?"
Then why? Why? Those words, so hurtful and strange, come from the same man who has made him what he is...So why? He knew no different, until Kaname came into his world. Before her, all he knew was this world of blood and violence. The one he is still living, this endless, unceasing war. He is a soldier, literally forged in the crucible. What else could he be and what choice has he ever had! Why? Why say this now when death is all that is left? His concentration wavers, slipping before him like a mirage. . Anger, frustration and despair seem to swell like a rising current within him.
Do all fathers do such things? His heart races, the smoke and sweat make his eyes smart. All he can smell, all he can taste is blood and burning jet fuel. He isn't afraid, there is just a slow creeping sense of hurt and disappointment, of frustration and pain. Time is ticking on and the warhead with its finality is drawing nearer. All he wants is to go back to Tokyo with Kaname but it is useless. His concentration is wandering, smoke clouds his vision. His instincts honed down to a hair trigger rage at him. Concentrate, watch him, he won't miss the opportunity... move!
Kalinin's weight falls on him pinning him down, the long grey pony tail flashes for the briefest moment in front of his eyes, and then they are eye to eye. The knife, razor sharp and wielded with intent slips through his AS suit as if it was nothing more than a cotton shirt. There is a deep, searing pain, and he twists uselessly, trying to jerk himself away. His sweat soaked hair slips into his eyes stinging, burning...
His eyes snap open, it is dark. There is only the soft bluish glow from the street light streaming in through a crack in the curtains. Just enough light to see by. He rolls on to his back, his breathing heavy. Shadows dance on the ceiling, none of it is real he tells himself. The weight on his arm is not Kalinin, of whom not even a pile of ashes remains but Kaname. Except for the pain in his abdomen it is simply his mind playing with him. He swallows and lays there waiting for the pain to dissipate.
The room is very quiet. Subconsciously he catalogues each sound. The soft tick of Kaname's little bird clock that sits behind him on the chest of drawers. The quiet sigh of the breeze slipping in through the half open window, the faint rustle of the curtains that accompanies it and Kaname's breathing. Slow and deep and so quiet it is barely audible. He closes his eyes, and exhales slowly, counting in his head. His heart still rattles away in his chest. He has been back in Tokyo for three nights and Kalinin has plagued him for two. He holds his breath, forcing himself to quieten his mind and senses.
There is no danger, he tells himself. Kalinin is gone, all those who matter most are safe, and for once there are no enemies to fight. No snipers to worry about, no weapons pointed at them, indeed no weapons at all. He tells himself this but a faint voice deep down says, except for Nami. He doesn't want to go there, to think of her and the useless, pointless waste of it all. He doesn't feel safe enough to throw away his weapons despite his brave words. It is one thing to say he needs no weapons but it is another to actually abandon them. Besides he knows too much, and so does she. Which is why his glock is jammed between the mattress and the bed frame.
The pain in his belly slowly subsides to a dull monotonous throb. It is the price he will pay for quite some time, after forcing his body far too hard, far too soon. He knew better, and Lemon wasn't the only one who warned him but never mind. After everything else it is nothing. Besides, in the end, somehow, he has managed not just to bring her back to this place but to get here himself. That in itself is nothing short of a miracle. It is enough, just to lay here and listen to her breathe.
She stirs a little in her sleep, her fingers still clasping his hand, close a little tighter. For three days they have done little more than fend off the attentions of their class mates and sleep. In truth Sousuke has never been more exhausted in his life. Emotionally, and physically, on every level he is spent. Kaname too is drained, but she somehow seems to draw energy from everyone around her. While he feels only a sense of relief, that finally, he can stop running, stop fighting, stop pushing.
He opens his eyes and gazes at her, taking in the slow rise and fall of the bed sheets as she sleeps. So deeply, and peacefully, does she sleep, completely unaware of his own inner disquiet. He is content just to be near her but when he sleeps his mind starts pulling the things he'd rather not think about into his dreams.
He lays very still trying to burn this moment, the quiet of the room, the closeness of her, the feel of her fingers long and slim entangled in his own, the faintly sweet smell of her, into his memory. The situation as it is can't really continue. Can it? He isn't sure, he only wants to be near her, to protect her. Part of him knows it is inappropriate for him to be here with her. In her home, in her bed, even if all they do is sleep. Not, he knows that anyone would believe that for even a moment, and that is the problem. He doesn't want to hurt her or embarrass her or create problems for her. He's done enough of that as it is and he's bound to over react or misread things again. He still feels out of his depth at times and even now he has trouble interpreting things, but he is trying.
Then there is Kurtz, who will have a field day when he finds out, if he finds out. After all he'd had a month and a day of Kurtz's taunting after he'd told Kaname he loved her. Of course, he couldn't have expected anything less given he'd said it so freely and over a public line, thus, in effect telling everyone. He can well imagine the entertainment value Kurtz would get out of him actually sharing Kaname's bed.
It is simple really. They are afraid, both of them, though it remains unspoken. Afraid that at any moment this hard fought oasis of calm and closeness will be torn from them again. No, it is enough, just to lie here and feel the warmth of her body and the slow rhythm of her breathing. Enough to feel the weight of her body on his arm and the grip of her fingers in his own. Shy and awkward as he is, this is enough. Exhausted as he is, it is enough. One day in all probability it will not be, but for now it is a reward beyond reckoning.
He has stared death in the face, been tested and betrayed, has clawed and fought, suffered and endured and at times has continued on, just on sheer will. It has been hard, agonising, but he loves her and she had said come. He closes his eyes and rolls over towards her, he curls his fingers around hers. Bugger Kurtz. He has been through the fires of hell just to bring her safely home and somehow against all odds he has done that and that is all that matters. Her fingers tighten just a little around his own...yes, he thinks as sleep draws him down again, this is enough.
(2012)