Summary: It was sort-of like Cinderella: the worried chef stays by the farmer's bed until midnight and she returns his hairpins the next day.
A/N: I definitely love Chase unhealthy amounts.
(Words from a fairy-godmother)
It was all silvery haze and snowflakes in Castanet, and the look of it: a shimmering, eerie mirage. The flickering street-lamps conspired with the inky sky to paint the town ghostly. A lone figure wandered through town, the orange shine of his hair a sliver of colour in the stark surroundings. The ribbon of footprints behind him ebbed away with the fresh layers of snow - much like the way a flame eventually consumes a match.
"Did you hear about Angela? She collapsed on the beach today, the poor thing almost froze to death…"
Chase sighed and wisps of smoke coiled in the air. An icy wind slithered through the folds of his shirt and he hastened his movements, anxious to escape the cold, and desperate to see the farmer and ensure her well-being with his own eyes…
"She's at the hospital at the moment. According to Julius she wasn't even wearing a jacket while she was fishing…thank the goddess he found her…"
Chase gritted his teeth; what had that damn, idiotic, foolish women been thinking? Did she want to get frostbite? His pace quickened once more, to the point where he was almost running. He had always cared about Angela in an unusual, all-consuming way. His mind constantly drifted to her whereabouts (much to Yolanda's annoyance during cooking lessons), and his thoughts were uneasy whenever he knew she was visiting the mines or Fugue Forest. It was what he cared for most in this world: her safety. If it wasn't then Chase wouldn't have been braving the chill of the evening to see her at Chorale Clinic.
(The carriage arrives)
A small bell tinkled when Chase opened the door of the clinic and as he entered Irene glanced up from her paperwork, the soft lines of her face creased in concern. "Chase, how can I help you?" Her eyes swept over him in a swift detection of any injury or illness, the way they always do with visitors, the way she was trained to do. "Are you feeling okay?"
He didn't acknowledge her concern with an answer. Instead: "Is Angela here?"
The elderly women smiled and it was the sort of smile that reached the corners of her twinkling eyes, the kind of smile that made all Chase's worries instantly evaporate. "She is. Would you like to see her?" He nodded. "She's sleeping at the moment but you're welcome to stay for a while." Irene slid back in her chair and stood up. "Come now, follow me."
Chase did; he shadowed her through the artificially lit and freakishly white reception and then into the equally white and artificial surgery room. He spotted Angela immediately, her body snatching his attention the way flames seize moths. A thick blanket was slicked across her sleeping figure and she looked so frail, and so tiny, in the corner of the room. Her face was still, unmoving, and the only sign of life was the slow rise and fall of chest.
Chase knew Jin could see the terror in his stare – the shards of a dozen dark thoughts bursting to life behind the lilac of his eyes – because the young doctor began to reassure him by saying, "Angela will be fine, Chase. Her body suffered quite the trauma today and now she just needs to rest so it can recover."
"Fine? She will be fine?" Chase said, disbelief colouring his words. He took a closer look at Angela. She was pale, frighteningly so, and her complexion appeared as if someone had taken a handful of snow from outside and dusted it upon her face; without the halo of auburn air cocooning it, Chase wasn't sure he'd have been able to tell where the hospital-white pillow ended and her face began. "If that," he said, pointing down at the farmer with his left hand, "Is your definition of fine then I think you need a dictionary to go with your medical degree."
Chase watched Jin's expression darken, the midnight black of his eyes hardening into steel. "I understand that the outlet for your distress is anger but there is no need to insult my competence."
Ashamed, the chef bowed his head and his reply - "You're right, sorry" - was directed more to his shoes then the man in front of him.
"It's fine." Chase looked up and Jin's mouth curved into the smallest of grins. "I'm used to it. Sometimes I don't think it's the patients who are the ones most affected by their injuries."
Not at all interested in the Doctors theory, Chase shrugged and gestured to the plastic chair in the corner of the room. "Do you mind if I sit for a bit?"
Jin shook his head. "Of course not."
The seat was tiny, cramped, and for someone of Chase's tall build, extremely uncomfortable. He lent back into its hard edges and shimmied around, crossing and uncrossing his legs and stretching his arms. It was futile though: he would never get comfortable. Resigning himself to this fact, Chase cast his attention back to Angela's slumbering figure and the sight of it – of her being both frozen and unmoving - once again snatched his breath away. His eyes flared wide in worry, resembling two amethyst coins, and he tried to coax her awake with his stare.
It didn't work.
(The clock ticks...)
In Chase's opinion, the most remarkable thing about Angela were her eyes. They were laughing eyes, both joyous and sincere at once: they were a radiant brown, as light as the flickering edges of a flame (and possessing much the same warmth). Yet they were closed, extinguished by the curls of her black eyelashes, and as the chef sat by the farmer's side he felt unusually cold in her presence.
His gaze eventually slid down her body and Chase could see glimpses of her collarbones, their brittle edges blooming from the top of her hospital robes and protruding in sharp peaks. She was so damn skinny – as fragile as a bloody bird, he thought – and Chase clenched his fists, fighting the desire to trace the edges of those valleys between skin and bones. Her body looked as if it was on the brink of snapping, it's outline as sturdy as a spider-web. She's like a dandelion, one breath and she'll blow away…
With a dull ache his fingernails began breaking the skin on the inside of his palms. Chase wondered when exactly he'd come to care for this woman so much, the precise moment he'd given her the power to break him and put him back together, to build him up like a house of cards only to knock the foundations with moments like these (because when it came to Angela, he was delicate too).
He wanted to say: Don't you understand that for some ridiculous reason my sanity depends on your wellbeing? Are you so dense that you can't comprehend how much I care about you? This is crazy. I can't stop thinking about you. I can't stop panicking whenever you're in the slightest bit of danger. "- You're a real idiot, you know that? What the hell could possibly go wrong by wearing shorts in this weather? I wonder…" Angela didn't stir and Chased continued, "What? No comeback? Hm, that's a pleasant surprise. I think silence suits you."
Chase could almost hear her laughing retort, "I'm not sure silence suits me nearly as well as this outfit. Hospital green is definitely my colour, right?"
It wasn't, Chase thought, and there was a small pang in his chest.
(The clock strikes midnight)
After that, time stretched out like an elastic band, one that was being tugged at an infinitesimally small rate. Seconds turned into minutes and minutes strained on the hours until it snapped, until something inside of Chase snapped. How could she still be asleep? In a single rough, impatient movement he tore his fingers through his hair – blunt fingernails scraped against his scalp - and the force of it caused his bobby-pins to pop out and strike the ground with a soft clatter. His fringe sprang to life, unravelling from his hands and grazing his cheekbones. Sighing, Chase leant over to pick up the clips from underneath his chair. However, he stopped when he heard Irene's voice from the other room saying, "Jin, it's almost midnight. That boy in there, you'll have to ask him to leave so we can close up."
Noting the sound of rustling paperwork, groaning furniture and brisk footsteps, Chase stood up and smoothed the creases in his jeans. The door opened and Jin's head popped out through the gap. Sensing the imminent farewell, Chase nodded at the man. "Make sure she's okay or I'll burn your next meal."
"At this point in time, Angela just needs sleep. I've done all I can for her," Jin told him, unruffled.
Chase stepped out of Angela's room and once he reached the doorway of the clinic his hand paused on the handle. He turned his head towards Jin, so he was facing him when he said: "I'd say 'see you' but I'm hoping I won't have to any time soon - you know, hospital and all that. No offense."
The black haired doctor smiled wryly. "None taken."
Chase spun back around and exited, his pins all but forgotten on the hospital floor.
(Glass slippers)
To Chase's shock, Angela was on his doorstep the next morning, a thin shawl draped around her shoulders. He voiced his thoughts: "Angela, I'm surprised to see you up and about. Tell me, have you abandoned your quest to be Castanet's first human snowman?" Chase's voice conveyed a casualness that he certainly didn't feel. His heart was racing, his mind was spiralling – all unbeknownst to Angela. She was fine, he told himself in relief. More than fine, by the look of it: there was life in her eyes, colour on her cheeks and a smile breathing life into the rest of her features.
"Snowwomen." Angela corrected lightly. "And yes, I have. Both Jin and Irene lectured me for about an hour this morning - separately." She leant against the doorframe and sighed wistfully. "I don't think I'll be able to look at snow for the rest of winter."
Chase glanced out his window and stepped to the side. "It's snowing now. You should come inside." He smirked and continued dryly, "I'd hate for you to end up in hospital because the cold got to you or anything."
Angela shook her head. "Oh, don't worry. I'll be out of your hair soon. Which, speaking of," she reached into her pocket and then opened her palm to reveal three hairpins. They glinted silver in the sunlight. "I thought I'd return these." Chase ran his hands through his hair, as if to confirm his bobby-pins weren't there, and that these were indeed his. They were. "Irene mentioned you stayed with me until midnight?"
Chase retrieved the bobby-pins from her hand. "Technically they kicked me out ten minutes before."
"Well, I'm glad you were there," Angela paused to beam up at him. "Especially because I know you probably had a bunch of better things to do."
"Not really. If I did I wouldn't have come," he said and he slipped the pins into place as he spoke. They fit perfectly: three neat clips threaded into his hair, so seamless that it was as if they had never left.
Angela rolled her eyes. "I'll make sure I check your calendar before I collapse next time." Her eyebrows furrowed sharply as she stared up at him. "You know, just to make sure you're free."
Angela took a hasty step from the door-frame, a hurt expression descending on her face like a storm cloud.
(Happily ever after)
"Wait! Angela!" the farmer had turned to walk away but Chase reached out and grabbed her wrist, desperately, longingly. "It's true, I didn't have any plans," he said, "But if I did I would have bailed on them." He let her hand drop and she paused. Chase took a deep breath. "I would have bailed on them for you."
Angela turned to face him, smiling. "Thanks, Chase." She bit her lip, her teeth pulling at her cupids bow. Then, she continued more candidly, "It was pretty scary waking up in that hospital, so that means a lot."
"Yeah, well -" Chase faltered and swallowed. "You mean a lot to Castanet…the people here really lov –" He broke off, his face stricken with embarrassment. Angela leant back, a delighted glint sparking in her eyes. She stayed still and waited him to finish. "You mean a lot to the town," (the words "To me," may not have been spoken but they rang in the air, as sure and loud as the chimes of the bells Angela rang). "So, wear gloves or something next time you decide to do something stupid like fishing in winte –"
If Chase had blinked he would have missed it; missed Angela's mouth crashing down on his. He gasped before lowering his eyelids and pulling her body against his with a soft tug of her bony hips. He was genuinely shocked that it was Angela who instigated the kiss – how sudden it was, how her lips quivered so shyly against his, how all of the memories from last night, of the hospital bed, of Angela's pale frame, and all his worries, seemed to fade away until it was just them - just this moment.
Slowly, so slowly, and with feather-light fingertips, he traced the edges of her collarbones and she threaded her fingers through the silk-orange of his hair, drawing him close, close, closer; he could feel Angela's heartbeat fluttering against him, a tiny butterfly trying to escape into his chest – that was how little room separated them.
Angela was tiny but strong, she gripped the back of his shirt and Chase began to lose himself in the sensations and – oh goddess - in her. All this time he had thought warmth to be in her eyes, in the burning brown of their depths. Yet he had been wrong; this was warmth. Her touch ignited his skin, the tips of her fingers on his arm were pinpricks of fiery pleasure; her kisses blazed through him like an earthquake, reaching the very edges of his body and warming him down to his toes.
It was Chase who pulled away, both dazed and dazzled. He couldn't tear his eyes away from the rosebud-red of Angela's mouth or the blush on her cheeks. Breathless and unable to stop his mind from spinning, Chase smiled ferociously down at her.
Angela broke the silence with: "Jin may have mentioned that the most effective way of keeping warm is body heat…" She trailed off. Then, she grinned sheepishly. "Although I'm not sure he had this in mind."
Chase's eyebrows rose. "So all this is just because you don't want to wear gloves?"
"Maybe," Angela said. She started drawing tiny circles along the faint cording of muscles that lined his arm; Chase swallowed and licked his lips. There was a beat of silence before she asked: "Do you mind?"
The wide curve of Chase's mouth betrayed him before words could. He shook his head. "Not really."
A/N: Reviews are always wonderful!