For Kitomi and The Crimson Comet!

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There's a hidden meaning to all things that happen

I hope you'll remain yourself even if your dream begins to vanish

Because I'll always be here

Will my voice reach you?

I couldn't say those overflowing feelings for you

I want to be the sky for you

Even enveloping all of your pains

Whenever I look up, I want to feel

That I'm not alone even if I'm far away

Let there be a place I can return to

-- "Motherland" Crystal Kay: Full Metal Alchemist

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She would always remember how she met him. The night had been cold and wet, and she had been so tired. But she had seen him, and met him -- and in return, he'd taken her world and flipped it upside down, shaking it to make sure that nothing was left of her old life.

She would always love him for that.

He always kept at least one arm around her when they slept. Security, she supposed. She didn't mind, having become so used to his feathery weight. And he held her so gently now that she was pregnant; always with an arm around her shoulders and another slung protectively over her swelling stomach.

And always, always, there was the rain...

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Even before Nobuyoshi Meijiro had become a nurse, she had been used to the grotesqueness of the human body. If you collected all the blood she had seen in her short life, she would be wading up to her armpits. So it had been oddly fitting for her to discover that there was no such thing as a "calm" ER shift. There was an occasional lull between emergencies but as people continued to do stupid things to themselves and others, business boomed.

She wondered what she had been thinking, choosing this as her profession. She had spent the last sixteen hours patching up fools.

Forcing herself to hold back a groan, she thought about the lengthy time on her feet and wondered why she didn't have a car. Honestly, it was ridiculous. It didn't matter if her apartment was only a twenty-minute walk from the hospital. Getting there right now, in her zombie state, was sheer torture.

She adjusted her brown purse on her shoulder and sighed. Thunder rumbled ominously overhead. Meijiro paused and looked up at the night sky in dismay. There had been talk of rain for that night, but she had planned to be home by this time and hadn't thought to bring an umbrella.

Of course, she hadn't thought she'd have to field Rin's shift either.

She trudged onwards as drenching water began to fall from the clouds, no doubt ruining her skirt and damaging her knit top beyond repair. Her brown hair, newly cut short, itched at the back of her neck.

There wasn't a soul on the street, Meijiro noted dimly. That was odd. New Tokyo ordinarily teemed with people. Degenerates, gang members, drug addicts...

She plodded towards home, eyes half-closed. She did not open them completely until the blood squished underneath her shoes.

Meijiro suddenly realized that she was standing in a large puddle of the crimson liquid. Her head snapped up and she saw with growing horror that she was standing in the middle of a combat zone.

The street was littered with corpses. The rain was shepherding some of the blood down the gutters, but it wasn't enough. The clean up crews would still have a large job to do. Meijiro absurdly noted these insignificant details as she struggled to comprehend the amount of dead here. In the tiny, detached corner of her mind, she reasoned that there was no one left alive. The realization of this fact brought her back to herself.

She gulped and began to back away from the scene. There was nothing she could do, and if she was caught near here -- (1)

Then she saw the shift in movement. Minute. Imperceptible. Under the light pole, in the puddle of golden light.

A survivor.

Damn that Nightingale Pledge.(2)

Nervously skirting the bloody puddles, she picked her way across to examine the skinny figure slumped there.

Good looking kid, she noted as she knelt beside him. Ginger-brown hair that had been illuminated to bronze by the light, untidily cut at his shoulders; a thin face that showed off high cheekbones, bangs dusting the bridge of his nose -- typical of a resident of this city, never enough food to go around. He was tall too, but it looked like his height was all in his legs, which were loosely pressed together at the knees on level with his stomach.

There were two, bloody strikes that diagonally crossed his chest, as well as another gash that went over his right shoulder. He was in excellent shape though, especially compared to how the dead ones were so sliced apart.

Right, check his pulse first...

Her fingers brushed the skin of his neck and he came to life. He grabbed her wrist roughly and jerked it away from him, snapping his eyes open instantaneously.

He saw that she was female and unarmed. He saw the pin on her purse strap that identified her as a nurse. "What," he began. Lifted his eyes up to her face as he spoke.

And stopped.

Meijiro did as well, right in the midst of trying to explain who she was and what she was doing.

She certainly didn't know why he was staring at her, but she understood herself. Never before had she ever encountered someone with golden eyes.

She couldn't be sure that they were gold, right off the bat. They could have been brown, or black, and were simply reflecting the light being cast. But no, (and she grew more certain as she studied him) they were most certainly gold. And focused completely on her.

Talk about unnerving. Yet, she couldn't bring herself to look away.

Suddenly she realized that her breath was coming in sharp gasps and out with harsh wheezing. And there was something strange happening in her chest. Heat was blossoming steadily, and quickly spreading throughout the rest of her body. She could feel it in the hand that encircled her wrist. It was also in his eyes.

Those golden eyes.

The rain was coming down softly, adding a surreal veil to it all. Surely, this couldn't be happening. No one could possibly feel like this by simply looking at a person...

She heard the rain distantly. She felt her soaked clothes itching. Her knees were starting to complain after kneeling for so long.

But it simply didn't matter. Not when he was looking at her.

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Heavens knew how long they would have stayed like that if raucous voices hadn't suddenly erupted at the end of the street.

Meijiro fell away as if he had struck her. The man for his part, swore.

Then with surprising agility for someone that had formerly been in a state of collapse, he got to his feet and held out a hand to her. "C'mon, we have to leave!"

Slightly dazed, she grasped the proffered hand. He hauled her to her feet and dragged her into an alley.

He led her through the filth and trash swiftly; they were out on the parallel street in only seconds.

"All over the damn place," he was muttering to himself. "They're worse than cockroaches -- hope I left them a good message... Do you still have your bag?"

It took Meijiro a moment to realize that he was speaking to her. But an answer wasn't required; he only needed a glance to see that she had held onto it.

Not that he glanced, really. More like stared. She realized that she didn't really mind.

She had to clear her throat twice before she could speak. "You...you need to get that shoulder looked at."

He drew back. "No hospitals."

"N-no, I wasn't thinking of that. I -- you could come to my place --" Good heavens, what was the matter with her? She couldn't think straight; the sight of the man was making her dizzy, and it was an almost sure thing that he had been involved in some of those deaths. It would be stupidity of enormous proportions to take him home with her. Such foolishness was how they got so many rape victims.

But the thought of being separated from him was simply unbearable.

He gaped at her. "Your -- home?"

"Uh -- well, i-if you wanted, I mean, I'm not trying to trap you or anything, and you said you don't want to go to the hospital, but that doesn't matter, I'm a nurse so I'd be able to help --"

Help. A word completely unheard of in its original context. Meijiro realized that she was babbling and clamped her jaw shut. But she couldn't help it. She felt drunk.

Was his face turning red, or was it a trick of the light?

"Uh. Well. If you're sure --"

"Of course I'm sure," she snapped, embarrassed by her earlier stuttering.

Yes, he was definatly blushing. That's so cute!

"Alright then," he said meekly.

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His name was Togusa.

At least, that's what he told her. It could very well have been a lie, and it wouldn't have been the first time someone had done it. (3)

But she decided that for now she would accept it. "What were you doing there?" she asked calmly as she cleaned the dried blood off his skin with a wet cloth.

At least, she hoped she was calm. The sight of him shirtless (and on her bed at that!) seemed to have activated several shockingly primitive instincts that she had thought she didn't have. Then there was the small, coherent part of her brain that had the awful feeling that her voice had been extremely squeaky. Reacting to the internal horror of the thought, her hand spasmodically constricted the cloth, producing water that ran down his arm and side.

Muttering an apology, she bent to soak it up again. This brought her close enough to his skin that she could breathe in his scent -- something warm and musky. Certainly not the filthy norm of the rest of the city. He must not live very far from me, she realized. That had to be it; the hospital had been established in this sector of the city because it was the only one that had access to a clean water supply.

Unless he bathes in the sea, said the libidinous corner of her mind.

Now there was a mental image. Oh, my.

Red-faced, she looked up from her task to see him watching her. There was a small, fond smile on his lips -- not mocking, not in the least. It was a warm smile. A gentle one.

The bottom dropped out of her stomach.

Suddenly realizing that he had been caught, Togusa snapped his head around to look in the opposite direction, a light flush spanning his cheeks.

Coughing to cover her embarrassment, Meijiro rewet the cloth in the water-filled bowl next to her, squeaking (most definatly), "Why were you --?"

"Got caught," he cut in hoarsely. "I was just minding my own business. (4) Then I saw --" He paused to clear his throat. "-- saw some...gold...flashes. But then one of the idiots attacked me, so I couldn't be sure."

Meijiro froze at 'gold.' For several long minutes, she found it impossible to speak. Finally, she managed to say something. "Gold..."

Seeing gold flashes could only mean that Luipaard had come back to New Tokyo after his murderous, corpse-filled sojourn into Hokkaido. About time too, she thought insanely. The city was getting too quiet.

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(1) I want to say here and now that Meijiro is in no way weak or cowardly. She simply has an excellent sense of survival that's kicking in: being found at this kind of scene can get you killed.

(2) The Nightingale Pledge is the nurses' version of the Hippocratic Oath.

(3) Don't worry kiddies, it's Togusa. XD

(4) Now then, we ALL know that's not true! ;P Luipaard, you naughty boy.

You just want to lock them up in a closet together, dont'cha?