another spur-of- the-moment- fic of mine silly head. sorry. crappy title again...
disclaimer: don't own, don't earn, don't sue
What's In A Smile
The early morning haze slowly lifted as the first feeble rays of sunlight stretched cautiously over the horizon.
Ken stood a short distance away from the location where their last night's work had taken place: an old tea house right at the center of an ancient Japanese garden, a little way off Tokyo. His eyes traveled over trees as old as the Edo- Shogun, over paths where emperors had let their feed lead them, and ponds where they had watched the precious Koi swim about, and a heavy sigh escaped his lips.
It pained him to have to taint something as old and precious with his mere presence, let alone the blood he had spilt on the Tatami mats of the tea house. It had fallen to him to dispose of the three targets- two politicians who, as Kritiker informed them, had been busily engaged in weapons trade, and the Geisha with whom they had met here and who, as an eye witness to their mission, had had to be silenced. She was the reason it had taken them this long to accomplish the mission, since Ken had hesitated until they couldn't possibly wait any longer on the off chance that she would leave before the men. There hadn't been any guards, the targets feeling perfectly safe right up until Siberian was right over them. It'd been over fast, and Ken had left the tea house and Aya to his task of setting fire to it to destroy any evidence of their having been there.
He closed his eyes as he pulled off his gloves and let them fall to the ground. His shirt and jacket followed, falling right onto his weapons and covering them. It seemed to him like a cheap metaphor of what he was doing every day, covering up his sins and shoving them to the back corners of his mind until the night came.
The spicy smell of burning wood and Tatami mats informed him that Aya had finished his task. Soon, the stench of burning flesh would mingle with the smoke. He hoped Aya would turn up soon so that they could leave; he wasn't particularly keen on the smell.
Turning around, he was met with the sight of the first narrow slice of the sun peeking over the treetops. He squinted a little, blinded by the light like the creature of the night that he was.
God, what was taking Aya so long?
The sun was climbing over the horizon in earnest now, its pale rays gaining strength with every passing minute. The light lent color to the world around him. It turned the gray of the tree trunks into brown, the leaves green, and the black of the water into glittering crystal.
He retreated further into the shadow of the tall willow towering over him.
Then something caught his eye and he walked slowly over to the ancient cherry tree, crippled and bent like a man of old age; and yet, tiny buds nodded to him in the slight breeze that was picking up now the sun had risen. A smile spread on his lips as he saw the first of the tender buds begin to open, preparing to bloom before his very eyes under the warmth of the sun.
That was where Aya found him a little while later, having come in search for his mission partner. The brunet was standing under the ancient cherry tree in his jeans and black t- shirt, face upturned and watching the blossoms with a child's rapt fascination. A slight smile played on his partly open lips.
Aya stopped in the shadow of an old oak tree, a few steps away from where Ken stood, surprised by this uncharacteristic display. The smile on Ken's lips was none of those he was used to by brash, hotheaded, easy going Siberian; it was not the bright grin he showed to the world at large, nor the melancholy smile he reserved for those he considered close friends, where happiness was tinged with sadness. This smile was real, genuine, and simple.
And he couldn't help but smile himself, smile sardonically at the bitter irony in this picture.
Ken raised his hand to touch one of the tender, precious blooms, and something inside Aya constricted, his breath hitched, and he fought the sudden urge to slap this tainted, dirty, bloody hand away. He did not know why; all he knew was that Ken couldn't, mustn't ruin this beauty with his touch.
As if he had heard his inner cry, Ken let his hand sink and fall to his side. The smile on his face was gone, replaced by a look of such sadness that it astounded Aya. It was as if something vital had been taken away from him, something incredibly precious. And he realized with a sudden jolt that Ken was looking at him.
Another smile tugged at his lips, tentative and sad and ironic at the same time.
'Come on, Ken. Let's go home.'
He felt before he saw it that he had chosen the right words. Ken's eyes closed, the corners of his mouth turned upward to form the melancholy smile he knew so well, and he breathed a soft 'Hai.'