This story is the sequel to Explanations and Explorations. You may want to read it first to have a better understanding of what happens in the following story.
Close Encounters of the Combustible Kind
Date: Monday, February 6, 2060
Time: Evening
Location: New Meiji Department of Justice (Parking Garage)
Characters: Saitoh, Tokio
Saitoh
DING
The elevator chimed faintly as the doors opened. Saitoh allowed Takagi to go first then followed her into the section of the DOJ Complex that housed the employee parking garages. As they walked through the nearly deserted hallways their footsteps timed to each other, Saitoh's mind replayed the events that had occurred at the armory and shooting range. So much had happened this evening; so many needful things had been said and explained. Some of the disclosures had been difficult for both of them, while other aspects of the mutual discovery had been nothing short of delightful.
Saitoh glanced down at Takagi's face. Though no longer tucked tight against his arm, she'd chosen to remain close, so that as they'd made the long walk up from the shooting range and through the deserted, maze like corridors of the DOJ, their hands and shoulders had occasionally brushed up against each other.
Once again, the enigmatic female had caught him off guard. He'd assumed that she would want to discuss more of her thoughts and memories with him, that her penchant for speaking her mind would translate into more conversation. Instead, she'd kept mostly quiet during the long walk up from the shooting range. He'd been the one to initiate conversation, when he'd answered her question about who Tsutomu was. When she'd learned that the name in her mind belonged to an all too serious seven year old boy, and that this boy had a three year old brother, her tender reaction had deeply touched and relieved him. One of the reasons he'd been loath to even consider pursuing a relationship with another woman had been the risk that his motherless children would not be accepted and loved in the manner that they deserved- an intolerable idea to be sure.
(I wonder how the boys will react when they meet her?)
While Tsuyoshi had thankfully inherited Yaso's warm and personable nature, the child had no memory of his mother. He did well with strangers though (too well in the cautious policeman's opinion) and Saitoh suspected that Takagi would easily bond with the laughing, demonstrative child. Tsutomu on the other hand, DID remember his mother, particularly the way she'd been taken from him and had, with the exception of Katsu and Watanabe, taken pains not to form any attachments with other adult females.
The shock of seeing his mother lying dead on the kitchen floor and then having his father withdraw and become a sullen, useless drunk had done no small measure of damage to Tsutomu's still developing personality and the boy would likely struggle with any changes to Saitoh Family dynamic. Saitoh set his concerns aside for a moment as he and Takagi took one last elevator to parking section A7 (his sedan was located two floors down on A5). There would be time enough for him to plan and consider the best way to make these critical introductions.
The elevator door opened again. He held it open and then followed the attorney into the dimly lit garage. Out of habit, he carefully scanned the nearly deserted section. There were six cars remaining, all unoccupied. Her car, a black rather sedate looking Honda, was in the middle of the section parked where the lighting was the brightest. Saitoh approved of this, but made a mental note that when he was able and if their schedules permitted it, he would make sure to walk her out to car every evening going forward.
Takagi took out her keys and pressed a key pad that deactivated the locks on the vehicle with a mechanical click and a flicker of the car headlights.
It was time to part ways.
Tokio
For the most part the walk back to her car was done in companionable silence. So, Tsutomu was the name of his oldest son. She'd bet that it was also the name of *their* oldest son. History did have a way of repeating itself, and Tokio was sure that she was the woman in her vision, who had given birth and called the child, Tsutomu. She supposed that she should ask him about that, but she preferred to continue basking in the afterglow of that very pleasant kiss, still wanting to keep the memory of that moment alive.
She wanted to kiss him good-bye, too. But she would never aim for his cheek again; she wanted to feel those soft lips of his on hers at least one more time. But this was a more public place, and she didn't want to risk such a personal display out in the open. Plus, she knew there were a lot of surveillance cameras in the DOJ garages. Thankfully, they'd been the only ones in the firing range tonight, and were granted the privacy that their encounter demanded. Oh, but there were probably cameras in the practice range, too. Perhaps Officer Wantanabe, out of consideration for her boss, would erase anything compromising. Tokio could only hope that would be the case.
Instead of trying for another kiss, she took one of his hands in hers, squeezing it lightly, looking directly into his eyes. "Thank you for everything. I know it couldn't have been easy for you, but what we said tonight to each other was very necessary, if we are to continue moving forward." Reluctantly, she let his hand go to open the door of her black Honda Accord, then lingered beside it rather than settling down in the front seat.
When would she see him again? She was loath to part from him without knowing that. "Could we have lunch sometime?" she asked shyly. If he wanted to continue reacquainting with her, this would give him an opening. If he didn't, he could always give an excuse about never taking a lunch break. She'd bet that he rarely did, anyway, since he was so dedicated to his work. Her mind flashed back to carrying a bento into the Tokyo Metro Police Department and leaving it on his desk. She smiled at the memory. She was on the brink of really believing everything he'd said about them in the past. They had too many shared memories for it to be a fluke.
Saitoh
Being the sort of man who enjoyed solving a good mystery, Saitoh had his hands full at the moment.
First and foremost there was the matter of something being off. The sense of off-ness was nothing remotely overt, just a quiet, niggling little whisper in the back of his mind. It felt like the echo of something, he decided as he silently scanned the nearly deserted garage, though for the life of him, he couldn't identify from whence the discordant feeling sprang. He and Takagi were the only people in the garage, of this he was certain. The building was secure, as secure as anything in the city could be.
(So what is it?)
Saitoh exhaled slowly and considered what could be inciting this low grade sense of disquiet. He wanted a cigarette, but smoking was not permitted in the garage and he wasn't the type to disregard the rule of law, just because he didn't personally think much of the mandate. That was not the way things worked.
When he inhaled, the nagging whisper came back, a little louder than before.
(Interesting….the trigger is olfactory)
The problem was that he couldn't smell anything troubling in the garage, other than the faintest hint of oddly scented bakery goods that someone must have left to go stale in a backseat, the bitter, filtered odor of motor oil and exhaust residue, and the much more enjoyable, yet fading hint of cherry blossoms.
He'd already gone a round with that particular scent this evening, what with Takagi's hair and perfume doing their damndest to drive him to distraction. Perhaps that was it - the sense of vague, unfocused unease was due to the fact he was going against his instincts where a certain attorney was concerned.
This led to the second mystery.
"Could we have lunch sometime?" Her voice was soft and hesitant, as if she was suddenly uncertain if he wanted to interact with her again. This made no sense at all, especially considering her interest was also apparent, based on the pleased little smile she'd carried up with her from the shooting range and the way her eyes kept tracking back towards the general vicinity of his mouth.
(Inscrutable woman…are you worried that you're being too forward with me again? Is that what this is?)
She had no reason to doubt herself or him, not after the evening they'd spent. He'd let her borrow his gun for crying out loud and had her fitted for body armor and then spent half the evening in conversation, using words like "feelings" and "connections" to try and describe the inexorable pull he felt whenever he was around this woman. As far as he was concerned, that was tantamount to an open declaration of his intentions.
"Is that what you really want? Lunch?" he asked dryly as he walked over to where she was learning against her decidedly sensible black Honda.
Intentionally stepping into what the moronic counselor at this son's school called a person's "personal bubble" he reached out and brushed a rebellious lock of hair out of her expressive eyes. "Or do you want something else?"
He certainly did. He wanted his wife back.
With that thought in mind, Saitoh slid one hand up and around the base of her skull, his strong fingers cradling the delicate arc of her neck. "I'm not at all inclined to engage in public displays of affection, but for you, I would be willing to make the occasional exception," he half growled, half teased as he looked for and found proof enough that she also wanted more than a casual sit down dining experience.
He did his level best to oblige her, giving her a kiss that was slightly more demanding than the first, but no less tender. He felt her stiffen up slightly… then she sighed against his mouth and leaned into him a little, wrapping her arms around his neck.
They broke apart a few seconds later. "You'd better get out of here," he muttered, opening the door for her. As the door opened wide, he again picked up the faintest hint of what smelled like old, stale almond cookies, the barely-there scent at once both vaguely familiar and increasingly troubling.
"I'll call you tomorrow," he said as he shut the car door once she was safely inside, the hairs on the back of his neck prickling as he turned and began walking away from her vehicle. Something was wrong…but he was missing critical evidence as to what exactly was amiss.
He heard the starter motor engage and activate the ignition system, but the engine did not start, but rather stalled. Saitoh glanced back, wondering if her battery had failed. The starter rolled again and then the scent of almonds, no longer stale and dull, but sharp and toxically sweet slammed into him. This was a smell he was all too familiar with, this completely different odor, the scent had been burned into his brain several weeks before when...(OH SHIT!)
Saitoh's eyes went wide with horrified realization and he spun around and began sprinting towards the stalled Honda and the woman sitting inside of it.
Tokio
"Is that what you really want? Lunch?" Stepping into her personal space and brushing some hair out of her eyes, he added, "Or do you want something else?"
He was correct, as usual; she didn't really want lunch. That was only an excuse to see him again soon.
"Well, no," she admitted. "It isn't that I want lunch, necessarily…I just wanted to know when I would see you again...so…that's why I suggested it." What did he expect? He never said he was going to call her. He didn't ask her what she was doing this week, either. A girl shouldn't just leave things hanging with a man, especially when she was sure she would just wither away if she didn't see him again as soon as possible.
That wasn't all of it, either. There was 'something else' she wanted, but she couldn't very well tell him she wanted him to kiss her again, could she? Wasn't that being just a little too forward towards a man you only reacquainted with a mere day ago?
But as he always seemed to do, he read her mind, slipping a hand behind her head and neck to gently cradle them.
"I'm not at all inclined to engage in public displays of affection, but for you, I would be willing to make the occasional exception"
Saitoh's words caused a light of understanding to click on in Tokio's brain. A display of affection? For *this* man to say *that* was tantamount to admitting that he liked her…a lot..a whole lot. Talk about a 'melt the heart, weak knee moment', you couldn't get better than this when the wolf is involved… that little voice echoed. This was a classic. His admission turned her heart to pudding….
Then his lips captured hers for a bit more intense, but no less tender, encounter than their first one had been. Slipping her arms around his neck she let her fingers wander into his *very* soft hair, startling at the familiar feel of it. In response he intensified his kiss a little.
Rats. Now all she was going to be doing was looking for some excuse to run her fingers through his hair. All too soon, they parted, much to Tokio's disappointment. He was muttering something about her getting out of there. That made her smile. Hm, not sure he could control himself perhaps? It was only speculation on her part. Still, she did get that additional kiss she wanted, that made two in one night. Not bad. Very good in fact. And the admission he made about 'affection'…that was something very special. A long forgotten thought told her so.
After he'd opened her car door completely Tokio slipped into the leather seat, placing her shoulder bag on the passenger's side. Saitoh closed the door behind her, walking away, telling her he would call her tomorrow. That was good. She knew he would; he was a man of his word. Another guy might tell you that he would call you, and you would never hear from him again. It was a standard brush off technique.
She pressed her thumb to the ID pad for the auto start ignition, but her usually reliable, three year old Honda refused to come to life. Instead it made a bit of a grinding sound. She pressed her thumb on the ignition pad again with no success. Stumped, she was glad that the Captain was still in the garage. She would have to call for roadside assistance, and she was sure that he would wait with her until the service truck arrived. After what happened in the café yesterday she wasn't too keen on staying in a deserted garage alone after dark.
Reaching into her shoulder bag on the seat beside her, she fumbled for her phone to call the auto club. There was a strange smell in her car that she hadn't noticed before…almost like almonds…perhaps she tracked something in on her shoes…probably time to have the carpets cleaned, she mused.
She looked up, hearing a voice roaring, "Tokio…Get out of the car."
There was no doubt in her mind who was calling to her and what she would do. She always responded to that voice. Immediately, she reached for the button on the door, opened it, stepping out with one leg …..seeing him running in her direction, a furious look on his face…
Saitoh
"TOKIO!" Her name wrenched painfully from his mouth as he sprinted towards the vehicle, "GET OUT OF THE CAR!" Memories of pulling a limp, burnt little body out of what had been a pink car seat hit him like stray gun fire. There had been the same smell that afternoon. The realization had come too late and now….
He saw her look up at him out of the window of her car. A cold, painful fist closed tight around his heart and started to squeeze.
(Not again)
He'd just found her.
(Not again)
He was going to lose her.
(NO!)
Furious with himself for being too stupid to put two and two together, Saitoh snarled, his features contorting with rage at the thought of this woman that he'd lost and only just found again being taken from him.
Time began to crawl, each second stretching painfully, like a man being tortured on a medieval rack. As if in slow motion, Saitoh saw the car door open, and Takagi put one leg out.
Leaning forward, almost over extending, he threw the card door open hard enough that the glass on the driver's side shattered and grabbed the attorney by her upper arm and yanked her as hard as he humanly could away from the vehicle.
She cried out, whether in surprise or pain he couldn't say as the violent action wrenched her from the car. She stumbled forward, landing hard on the concrete floor and losing a shoe in the process but was given no time to recover. Saitoh grabbed her arm and yanked her again, lifting her off her feet and into his arms, crushing her against his chest as he threw himself back as hard as he could, hoping that he'd been able to get both of them out of what he knew from horrible experience was a sizable lethal blast radius. He heard a strange electrical click, then the smell of sickly sweet almond paste* intensified to the point of making his stomach sick.
Time
Was
UP
As he fell back, Saitoh closed his eyes, and pulled Tokio close to him. He felt her embrace him as well, her slender arms tightening around his waist. There was a soft click, then a hiss and then nothing but light and heat and sound.
The plastic explosives detonated beneath the engine of the Honda, creating a fireball that first imploded, sucking up most of the air in the enclosed garage as oxygen mixed with composite C4 and the electrical current from the car, and then exploded up and out, sending surging gases and white hot metal, glass and other fragmented shrapnel careening through the air. The garage was violently illuminated with light to the point that retinas shut down, unable to process the lumens.
Less than a millisecond later the shockwave moved out from the center of the blast, propelling the black Honda fifteen feet in the air. The burning wreckage landed on its side on top of a blue Toyota. Gasoline hemorrhaged out of the split open vehicle, igniting other vehicles. The blast also pushed other cars back, blew out windows one level up and one level beneath and set every car alarm in the complex off, creating a cacophony of bells, whistles and sirens.
It was these sirens that Saitoh woke up to.
Lying on his back, he opened his eyes, his vision blurry, black filaments marring his line of sight. Stunned he looked up at the ceiling, watching pitch colored smoke writhe and twist among the structural support beams. Ears ringing, Saitoh blinked. There was something in his eyes.
He tried to lift a hand to his face, but one of his arms was pinned down.
He blinked again and then coughed. There was blood in his mouth. In his nose. He spat and tried to sit up, to clear his vision, but something was on him.
Saitoh lifted his head up, the action causing an explosion of pain at the back of his skull and his vision to blur. The power was out, but there was plenty of sickly flickering yellow and orange light, courtesy of three cars on fire and several puddles of flaming gasoline, plenty of illumination to show him exactly what…exactly who was impeding his movement.
Tokio's face was tucked against his neck and shoulder and one arm was around his waist, despite being hurled nearly five car lengths. Her other arm hung limply at her side. She was lying on her side, her long legs tangled with his, her torso curled up against one side of him as if she was asleep.
"Takagi-san" Saitoh rasped. The wind had been knocked from him and with the amount of smoke in the air, breathing was difficult. He shook the woman with his free hand and tried to sit them both up.
She didn't respond and slid down a little, as if she couldn't support the slight change in position.
Saitoh frowned and shook her again, this time harder.
No response.
He quickly pressed his fingers against her neck, looking for and thankfully finding a pulse. It was weak though and slower than it should be. Saitoh tried to detect her breath against his neck and moved his hand to her ribs, trying to gauge the strength of her respiration. She wasn't breathing.
Carefully, yet quickly, he rolled the woman on to her back. His heart sank when he saw the color of her lips. They were pale from a lack of oxygen. He knelt down and tilted her head back, tilting her chin up; sliding one hand protectively beneath her neck, praying that she didn't have any spinal injuries. The motion forced her mouth to open slightly. He bent down, pinched her nose and covered her mouth with his and blew air into her lungs. He could feel her lungs expanding. He broke the seal and heard the air escape with a flaccid hiss, but she did not take the next breath, so he took it for her.
"Wake up," He ordered in between breaths. Her pulse was becoming thready and her lips were now dark blue. He covered her mouth with his again and exhaled, forcing the contents of his lungs into hers.
Nothing.
"Come on," Saitoh growled, becoming angry at the horrible lack of response. He checked her pulse. Her heart was starting to falter.
"Dammit, Tokio, you had better start breathing or there will be hell to pay!" he yelled at her, his voice imperative and angry. He bent down and blew into her lungs again.
Tokio
He was calling her name, *her* name…"TOKIO"
The car door flew back on its hinges, glass shattered.
Pain…a lot of pain…her arm was being yanked off. She was moving. Was that her voice?
Hard surface. ..More pain… More yanking, lifting now…I know those arms…Hajime…it's Hajime…
Still moving. Strange smell. Need to clean the carpets in the car.
Warm body…familiar…hold on to him…don't let go….don't ever let him go….never let him leave you again…
Can't breathe…blast…light…heat…Hajime, it hurts…It hurts so much…
Stillness….blackness…nothingness….no…not nothing…there was something…
But where was she? In Aizu? No, she wasn't there. This house was very old. Bunkyo Ward, maybe. Yes. That is where they lived, wasn't it? She was really having trouble remembering things these days. Goro was surely going to tell her that she was losing her mind. Was she? She hoped not. If she were to really lose her mind, who would take care of the boys? Certainly not that witch of a sister-in-law. How a man like her husband could even be related to such a woman was more than Tokio could comprehend.
What was her name…Katsu, maybe?
She opened her eyes and closed them again. The man leaning over her was wearing a blue wool jacket, white gloves, and a hat. Goro. It was Goro. Now she knew. Now she remembered what it was she knew about those gloves of his. She couldn't remember until now. The kanji embroidered inside. She did it. They were the kanji for…..
"Dammit, Tokio, you had better start breathing or there will be hell to pay!"
'Yes, husband, I will,' she tried to tell him, but no words came out. Goro was angry with her…he was yelling at her. He never raised his voice to her. Had he been drinking again? She hoped not. He didn't drink often. He was not always a pleasant man when he drank, but he never yelled. She would obey him, she always obeyed him, because she loved him, and she knew that he only wanted what was best for her.
Confusion washed over Tokio…then…
It seemed like air was being forced into her chest…her lungs were on fire…they hurt...
Tokio…shuddered, inhaling a sharp, shaky breath...where was she?
She was in her Honda, ready to go home…but it wouldn't start. Captain Saitoh yelled at her to get out of the car…then he grabbed her…and here she was on what felt like a hard surface. Was she on her back? Was she still in the parking garage? She tried to open her eyes again, but the image was fuzzy. She *felt* who was beside her. He would never leave her…she would surely die if he did…
She tried to raise her arm, but it barely moved from the floor. She wanted to touch his face. Oh how she hurt. Every spot on her body seemed to throb. Her chest ached so much, each breath was an agony. She couldn't talk. Her throat was so dry. It even hurt to smile, but she tried…
Saitoh
The cold fist around his heart clenched hard.
(Don't do this…)
Saitoh took a deep breath, held it and then exhaled forcefully into the unresponsive woman's upturned mouth. Her lips were growing cold beneath his.
(Don't die…)
"Tokio," Bent over her prone body, he called to her, as one might to a loved one who was wandering out of sight, his deep voice cracking with anguish as he took in the deepening, nearly lifeless pallor of her cheeks, eyes and mouth. Blood, dripping from his nose fell on her cheek, crimson spattering on ivory. "Stay with me, Tokio."
He tried to wipe the blood away with hands that were becoming unsteady, but only ended up smearing a streak of it on her cold skin.
(Don't leave me…) He'd waited several lifetimes to be whole again and have his better half by his side. The thought of being parted from his mate, of being alone again was too painful to contemplate.
Tokio shuddered, her body convulsing. Saitoh sighed with relief and put a hand over her heart, willing it to keep beating, to grow stronger. Grey eyes snapped open. Her pupils were huge…dilated, her focus unfixed and glazed dully with shock.
"That's it," Saitoh urged, bending down once more, not to breathe on her behalf, but to caress her face and brush back her hair in wordless encouragement as the attorney's mouth opened of her own volition and took a rattling, painful breath….and then another.
"Open your eyes for me…"
She blinked feebly, as if her sight was lacking then turned towards the sound of his voice. She tried to lift her hand, but something was wrong and Saitoh could tell that the motion clearly pained her. It only took the most cursory of examinations to realize that her slender right shoulder was at an utterly unnatural angle. It had been dislocated, though he couldn't say whether the injury came as a result of being pulled from the car or being thrown back several yards from the concussion blast.
"I have to re-set this, try and relax if you can," Saitoh warned, not entirely sure if she could understand what he was saying, already dreading the additional pain he was about to inflict. Still it was better he do this now, rather than wait when she was fully conscious and the shoulder was inflamed and swelling. Saitoh slid one hand beneath her back, and put the other over and slightly to the side of her hurt shoulder and with a firm jerk and steady downward pressure, felt the injured ball slip back with an audible, dull snap into the shoulder socket.
"All done," Saitoh said gruffly, as Tokio groaned in pain and fresh tears tracked down her still unfocused eyes. "Forgive me, Tokio…" he leaned over and softly kissed her forehead, trying to soothe, needing the contact. He'd promised to keep her safe, a vow he'd ultimately been unable to perfectly keep. The fact that he'd just had a direct hand in her suffering only made things worse.
Hisssss
Saitoh looked over his shoulder. Paint on the pinned Toyota was starting to hiss, blister and bubble across the top of the crushed hood of the car as the fire from what was left of Tokio's Honda spread. Windshield wipers curled, the rubber melting and washer fluid began to boil and the hose bindings snapped, sending scalding liquid everywhere. The radiant heat from the fire was increasing, causing sweat to pool beneath his uniform and clothing.
(Why in the hell haven't the sprinklers gone off?)
He looked up at the ceiling, though it was hidden by acrid black smoke. Even with the power off, backup systems and alarms should have gone off, triggering sprinklers and fire retardant be released into the garage. Icy, methodical rage bit hard into the pit of his stomach as he realized that the only alarms going off were those of damaged vehicles, that the strange power outage they'd experienced down in the armory had been deliberate, a precursor to attempted murder. He looked down at the injured and vulnerable woman lying beside him. His blood chilled as he recalled watching her life slipping away, then began to boil a second later when Tokio, despite the pain he knew she was in, tried to smile at him.
Saitoh picked Tokio up, cradling her limp body against his chest. (Save that smile for someone who deserves it….) he thought, upset that he'd allowed her to come to harm. (I underestimated how badly someone wants you dead….it will not happen again)
For reasons still unknown, Tokio was marked for death, despite having been in the city for only a few weeks. He needed answers and needed them quickly. Grinding his teeth so hard together that he swore he could feel the enamel cracking, Saitoh vowed that he'd hunt down and utterly destroy whoever was responsible for this. He had lost one woman who he loved to senseless violence and would be damned before he lost another.
The smoking skeleton of the burning Honda shifted, over heating metal bending and groaning as the Toyota beneath it caught fire. They made it to the stairwell door (as the elevator would not be working) before the Toyota blew, sending another blast of heat and shrapnel ricocheting through the already battered garage.
Saitoh tightened his hold on Tokio, as a fiery, hellish rain of melted plastic and superheated metal began to fall around them and kicked the door open, the power of the blow bypassing the locking mechanism. Quickly, he carried the woman inside the stairwell and began to descend the steps, down to the level where he'd parked his car. He needed to get Tokio out of here before whoever tried to kill hear realized they'd failed and decided that another attempt on the woman's life was in order.
Tokio
"Tokio. Stay with me, Tokio. That's it. Open your eyes for me."
Her mind responded with a 'yes, husband, I will stay with you.' Why does he think I won't, she questioned herself. Her body finally responded with a first convulsive breath, before it settled into a more even, but still ragged, rate of respiration.
Gradually, her senses began to return. She was almost able to focus on the face that was leaning over her. Her less than lucid mind told her at first that it was Goro, then that it was Hajime. His voice was cracking, he sounded anguished. A pang hit her heart; she didn't want him to worry because of her, and she could tell by his tone that he was very, very worried. His voice was as familiar to her as her own, so she could tell. That was one of the benefits of having been married to someone for so many years. -There were those thoughts again-.
She was still quite groggy; it was a struggle to regain full consciousness, but she felt something dripping on her face. Tears? As she recognized the smell of blood, she was filled with terror. Was Hajime bleeding? Then a warm hand smoothed across her cheek, soothing her, before it rested over her heart. It was enough to make her want to cry.
She continued to take deeper, more regular breaths. Her chest didn't hurt quite so much, but her right shoulder was killing her. Something terrible must have happened, but she had no way of knowing what it was beyond a fire of some sort. The acrid air told her that oil and gas were burning. She needed to know what was going on, but she would have to ask him later, because there was no way she could concentrate when her shoulder hurt like hell, and felt strange to boot.
"I have to re-set this, try and relax if you can,"
When she felt hands position themselves, both beneath and above her shoulder, she understood what he was referring to, realizing that it must be dislocated. He was right. He had to put it back in place or she would continue to be in agony. She nodded for him to proceed, gritting her teeth, instead of relaxing. With a shove, a pop, and an audible expression of pain on her part, her arm went back into the socket where it belonged. She was still hurting, but now it was much more bearable. She would need to ice it as soon as she got home.
"Forgive me,"he told her before he kissed her on the forehead. She reached up with her left hand and touched his cheek, holding her hand against it briefly before reaching back a little farther and running her fingers through his hair. She pulled him toward her, hoping he realized what she wanted. He did. A soft kiss on the lips was good medicine and just what she needed at the moment.
She slumped back, exhausted. When he picked her up, cradling her against him, she snuggled in, feeling safe. She could sense that their ordeal was not yet finished. It was becoming hotter. There was an explosion, debris rained down on them, as he kicked open a door to the stairwell and started down the steps.
