A/N: This was written for Poirot Cafe's Super Short Contest #4, theme "Fear". While I did have specific characters in mind when writing it, it can be anyone you want, really. Well, as long it's a male and a female, I guess. Enjoy!
Starless Night
They were fast and efficient. Deadly and silent but for the cracks of bullets tearing through the air. He tackled her, tried to get them both out of the line of fire. A bullet grazed his shoulder, and for a second he thought how lucky he was. But then they crashed down on the hard cobblestone path, little stones digging into his skin, and his hands wrapped around her waist drowned in blood. He turned her on her back, forgetting all about their attackers, focused on one single goal. Keeping her alive.
There was no time to think, he was nothing more than a pounding heart in his chest and frantic hands searching for the wound. Keeping one hand on her stomach, he used his other one to fumble for his phone. It slipped through his blood-soaked fingers and he cursed. He kept cursing while he blindly groped for it, not daring to take his eyes away from her for one second. He could imagine her heart slowing down in tandem to his own picking up speed. The operator asked him questions and he rattled down the answers without taking a breath. The faster he talked, the faster they could send help.
Dropping the phone, he slipped out of his coat and balled it up, pressing it against the wound.
He mumbled her name, caressed her face, pressed his ear to her chest, just to make sure she was still breathing. This was all his fault. He should have known better.
"I'm so sorry. I'm sorry. I'm so sorry."
His breath hitched when she turned her head ever so slightly in his direction.
"Don't move." he said, seeing how much strength it cost her.
She smiled, sad and resigned. Her mouth moved and he leaned closer.
"It's so cold." she breathed the words through clattering teeth and he cursed himself for not noticing. He didn't dare to loosen up the pressure on her wound, so he wriggled out of his sweater with one hand, only breaking their connection for a second when he needed to switch hands.
He covered her trembling form with the sweater, but it wasn't enough. It wasn't enough.
"It's going to be okay. You're going to be okay."
She looked at him, without really seeing, her eyes glazed and feverish.
"It's going to be okay."
Repeating it over and over again, he sat next to her, wishing he could do more. He knew it was dangerous to let her so close, he knew. And still, he let her become his life. Now it was slowly draining from her, drenching his hands and his coat.
His hands holding down the lumped coat clenched, gripping the fabric as if he was holding on to life itself. He was holding on to her's, and in a way, that was the same. White knuckles stood out against the bright red, and for a moment, all he could do was stare at them. His heart stumbled and lost its rhythm when the what ifs invaded his mind and squeezed his throat.
What if she didn't make it? What if she died, right here? What if there was something he could do to save her and he just didn't know what? What if, what if, what if...
He willed the cancerous thoughts away. They weren't helping and he needed to stay focused. But they had already infested his mind, put their claws into his heart, planted the seed of doubt.
Leaning down, he rested his forehead against hers. His own felt burning hot against her cold skin. It was too cold. Pulling away, he cupped her face with one hand.
"Can you hear me?"
She didn't answer, but her eyes flickered to his face, unfocused at first, then with startling clarity.
"It's going to be okay, I promise. I won't let you die."
Another smile graced her lips.
I love you. She mouthed the words and sheer terror pressed down on him from all sides.
"I love you too. And you're going to be fine. I promise."
It was a promise they both knew he had no way of keeping.
The clarity in her eyes vanished when she shifted them to look at the sky.
"I can't see the stars." It was barely a whisper, but he could hear the panic in her voice.
He followed her gaze, the night sky hanging above them like a black cloth embroidered with a million diamonds. His throat seized up and he pressed his lips together, holding back the strangled sound that was trying to claw its way out.
Stroking her hair, he closed his eyes and pressed his lips to her forehead. "They're beautiful, just like you."
