Vigil
by Cybra
A/N: A response to Sempaiko's fanfiction contest that she posted on Providence Playground.
Disclaimer: Generator Rex belongs to Man of Action.
He'd arrived back at headquarters late. Though none of the grunts would've noticed, Agent Six was exhausted and ready to get some badly-needed rest. Despite the impression he gave to the rest of Providence, he wasn't a machine.
But first he'd stop by his little-used office for the first aid kit he kept stashed there. Maybe even fix himself a cup of tea with honey to help relax his sore body. The thought to check in on Rex and Holiday flitted across his mind, but he dismissed the thought as quickly as it arrived. It was almost four in the morning according to the clock back in the jump jet. (He couldn't double-check since his supposedly-shatterproof watch had been smashed. Again.) They were probably already in bed.
But as he opened the door to his office, the presence of someone else set him on edge. He slid one of his katanas into his hand, unfolding it and cautiously approaching the couch Holiday had insisted be put there. He'd never liked that couch. The back faced the door, and he didn't like the feeling of exposure sitting on it created, yet he never could find time to move it elsewhere.
There was the rustle of clothing, and the couch creaked just a little. A soft sigh reached his ears.
Stealthily, Six approached his target, raising his katana up in preparation to bring it down on the interloper. However, he paused as he looked over the back of the couch.
It was Holiday.
Specifically, it was Holiday sleeping on his couch, curled up on her side and head resting on a throw pillow.
Six folded up the katana and put it away, giving a soft snort of annoyance. The woman had nearly succeeded in getting herself skewered.
His eyes-hidden behind darkened lenses-flicked about, seeking any further intruders. He slowed his breathing, ears alert to the tiniest of sounds. However, all he saw and all he heard came from Holiday.
Without bothering to turn around and close the door, he walked over to his desk, opening it with the faint whisper of wood sliding against wood. He took out the first aid kit and proceeded to treat the cut on his left cheek, self control keeping him from hissing in pain as the hydrogen peroxide bubbled when it reached the wound. If she'd been awake, Holiday would've demanded he hand over the first aid kit before treating the injury herself. To be honest, it was a rather deep cut but nothing life-threatening, but that wouldn't stop Holiday from treating it as if it were.
As he treated himself, his eyes never left the woman sleeping on his couch. He wasn't sure why exactly. Perhaps it was simple paranoia that someone had deliberately left her there as bait and was waiting in the wings for him to approach her. It wouldn't be the first time he'd run into such a situation. He watched for several tense moments, but no hidden danger made itself known.
He finished with the first aid kit and put it away. He walked back towards the couch, looking down at the woman sleeping there.
She shifted a bit, moving her head just enough to allow her bangs to fall in her face. She frowned in her sleep, mumbling something unintelligible as she shook her head a little.
Six watched this for a few minutes with mild amusement before he realized that his hand was slowly reaching out to Holiday. He paused, the tips of his fingers inches away. This was a violation of the boundaries he'd set for himself.
He stood there for several minutes, uncertain of exactly what to do. Then he finally reached forward and lightly brushed the hair out of her face.
The frown on her face morphed into a peaceful smile. Her restlessness ceased, and she fell into deep slumber once more.
Satisfied, Six resumed leaving, heading to the already-open door to his office. If Holiday wanted to sleep on his couch tonight, that was her business. He was going back to his room for a proper rest.
Unfortunately, he chose to glance back at her, remembering just how exposed and vulnerable he felt on the rare occasions he sat on the accursed piece of furniture. Would he really risk her safety for his own comfort? After all, it wasn't impossible for someone to break into headquarters in spite of all the security. Besides, one reason he rarely used this office was because it wasn't nearly as secure as his own quarters.
He turned back to the couch, deliberately leaving the door open to shine the soft nighttime lights into the room. If he had to have his back to the door, at least he'd be able to see an intruder's shadow on the opposite wall even if he somehow didn't hear them approach. Not the most ideal situation, but it would have to do.
He perched himself on the armrest near her head, settling in for the rest of the night. She made a gentle contented sound in her sleep, almost as if she knew he was there watching over her. His eyes flicked down momentarily as she scooted up closer to him, her head and the pillow pressed against his leg.
He stretched an arm over the back of the couch and crossed one leg over the other, cautious not to accidentally jar her. Then he returned his focus to the light on the opposite wall, all senses on full alert.
He still felt exposed in more ways than one. However, if anyone attempted to take advantage of his or Holiday's current vulnerability, there'd be Hell to pay.