Just a short two-shot fic. Next chappie up soon

The rain thundered to the ground, pounding on the head of the young man as he ran through the city streets. His eyes wide with horror, his mouth agape with disbelief, and his heart burning with rage.

He glanced back, though he knew he wouldn't be able to see her from here, and snarled in the direction of the heart he knew was breaking, if not yet broken.

It had started out so innocent between them. She was hiding out from some men that wanted her dead. He was sent to protect her for a day or two until the detective would be able to head out. He hated her, she hated him. That's how it had started.

It was just business. Just his job; his orders. Her life.

Things had stayed that way, simple and innocent, but not for very long. He didn't know now, nor did he think he'd ever know how that witch seduced him. But it didn't matter, he'd come to his senses now. He'd not fall under her spell again.

The sound of his feet hitting the pavement was drowned out in his ears by the echoed words of the horrid woman from which he ran.

"Your life is going to change, and so is mine my love,"

She'd said, and he shuddered as he remembered. "My love" That was what had tipped him off that his being near her was wrong. He was no one's love, he belonged to no one but himself.

"I know it'll be better for both of us now…"

His heart throbbed painfully in his chest, agonized by the thought of re-hearing the next words. The words that sent him into rage; the rage that had led him here, fleeing in the rain.

The streets were dark, and he could hardly see through the droplets of rain that pelted his face. For a moment, he was assaulted by the thought of her tears. Big, round, and streaming down her cheeks in fat rivulets. Her eyes clouded by the salty liquid, and her bottom lip drawn tight between her teeth.

He stopped running and gripped at his chest with his right hand roughly. There was pain at that thought, her crying as he knew she must be doing right now.

"You're going to…that is, I am…"

Lightening flashed through the sky, allowing him to see, if briefly, that he was back on her street. He didn't know how long he'd been running, though he was sure it hadn't been long. It couldn't have possibly been too long.

His feet moved him down the street, and he was helpless to stop them as they led him back to the place from which he'd run. The thunder and the pounding rain seemingly died away behind him.

And all he could hear was a voice. Her voice; the wicked, vile, horrible news-bearing voice that he detested.

"I'm going to leave."

Her voice was waving, and he could tell from where he was that she was still sobbing pitifully like he expected a trapped witch would.

"I'm gonna leave, and I'll pretend it's not his."

Her voice gained conviction and pride, and he felt hatred swelter for her in the pit of his stomach. Though he convinced himself it was for the abomination she refused to dispose of, his heart knew it was not.

He moved to the window and saw a boy with orange hair on her couch. His eye twitched momentarily in anger.

He watched as the boy stood, and grasped the shoulders of the sobbing and pacing woman. His shoulder twitched, and his eyes narrowed.

He didn't know what was going on. What was wrong with him?

"Don't. You'll just…don't let him…what about the rest of us?"

The words of the orange haired male struck him like a poisoned blade, and his body convulsed, inching forward. How dare that male step in on his property?

"I can't face them. You know that they know. They all said I was wrong from the start. How can I face them now?"

Her voice was unsteady, and he could almost hear the tears that followed them, though he knew they did not fall.

She was crying.

She was hurt.

He had hurt her.

He had made her cry.

His breathing became uneven as he watched the other male embrace her, and smooth her hair. He brought his hands to his face and pressed his nails into his skin, trying to keep himself from tearing her out of his grasp and cradling her into his own chest.

"We're here to help you. I'll look out for you and if they say one thing to hurt you; I'll pummel them for you."

The words drifted through the window, sending him into a fit.

He's the only one allowed to touch her.

He's the only one allowed to comfort her.

He's the only one allowed to protect her.

It was his job, not this male's.

Before he even had a chance to think through his actions, he had crashed through the window, sending shards of glass to the floor, and causing a scream to erupt from the very temptress from which he had previously ran.

The wind and rain blew into the lighted room, and splattered against the three of them.

He couldn't help but think that she looked like a broken angel, huddled into the chest of the taller male, scared for her life.

"Let go." He said darkly, his body on autopilot. He couldn't understand why she had not barreled into his arms, shoving away the other male, as she should have.

She looked to him, standing there in the space where the window used to be. She looked to the boy she had chosen to seek help from. If this wasn't a rock and a hard place, she'd never know what was.

"Give her to me!" He roared as his fists clenched. He didn't know why she wasn't coming to him. He'd not been gone that long, and she ought to still treat him like her god. Why wasn't she coming to him?

She looked from her friend to her wild, distressed and angry mate. She brought a hand to her belly in unease and spread her palm out, feeling her baby kick. She took it as a sign and stepped tentatively away from her worried friend, "Where have you been?" She asked him softly, hurt shining through her voice like the calm moments before a storm.

He narrowed his eyes barely noticeably and grunted, "I just went out for a run. I haven't been gone that long." His eyes bore deeply into hers, and she shivered.

"It's been months, you know." She said, her voice barely above a whisper now. She was afraid that should she say it too loudly, he'd leave again.

His eyes went wide with surprise. It couldn't have been that long; could it? "No it hasn't. You're lying. It's barely been an hour." He said insistently, desperately.

She closed her eyes in despair and looked away, responding softly, "Does it honestly look like I've only been waiting an hour?" His eyes, which had been trained solely on her face, traveled down her body in a hurry before closing in disgust. Either with himself or her, he didn't know.

She was very round now. He had left her when her stomach had still been flat and smooth.