Over Him

by Mirune Keishiko

chapter twenty-five

Souvenirs, Provisions

"As far as you're concerned"--and Megumi, forcing as much calm as she could despite the sudden lurch of her heart, stared up at familiar brown eyes--"I'm afraid that seat is very much taken."

"Gee, I never thought you were the type to believe in ghosts." Sanosuke slid into the vacant chair, sipping from a can of soda. He held his bandaged hand carefully, at an awkward angle. "Funny how things can change in—what, three months?"

"Maybe you just never noticed to begin with, toriatama." Suddenly she felt tired. Outside, the rain had died; she thought of the cherry tree in the park, probably stripped bare by the wind and rain, its former glory reduced to a sodden pink carpet at its roots. "Sprained again, I see," she added crisply, arching an eyebrow at Sanosuke's bandaged right hand. "What did you do this time, crush rocks with it?"

He managed a defensive look. "I had deadlines to meet!"

She bit back a laugh, smiled and shook her head instead. "I'll go on ahead. I still have exams next week." The coffee had never been particularly palatable anyway. She rose, tucking the package of half-eaten cheese roll into her bag with its intact companions, looking at the clock on the wall, the floor, everywhere but at him. "Take care of yourself, I'll see you at the wedding--"

She stilled at the coarse touch of gauze-wrapped fingers on her wrist. Reluctantly she met his gaze, somber over a seemingly roguish grin.

"I don't intend to leave things as they are, kitsune," he drawled, low and quiet. "Some things we can't just hide from."

Megumi glared at him. Patronizing, condescending son of a--

"Excuse me, Miss Takani."

Startled, Megumi whirled toward the cool voice that seemed to speak almost in her ear; suddenly she and Dr. Aoshi Shinomori were far too close, their faces scant inches apart, and she instinctively drew back. The overhead lights glinted in Shinomori's eyeglasses. Seeing herself mirrored imperfectly in the lenses, she wondered vaguely if the pastries were sticking out of her bag and making her look ridiculous.

"Dr. Shinomori!" she stammered.

"Is everything all right?" And blue eyes swept coldly down at Sanosuke, who was blithely throwing back the last of his soda, seemingly oblivious to the new arrival.

"Yes, sir, of course," said Megumi, mustering her usual brisk smile. "I was just leaving. You were looking for me, sir? You could have had me paged..."

He followed her outside the cafeteria and they ducked down a quiet, adjacent corridor. As Megumi turned toward him again, he drew an envelope from a coat pocket and offered it to her.

She took it, raising a puzzled gaze to him.

"They are more properly yours," he said almost dismissively, his eyes upon the envelope in her hands, unreadable. "You didn't seem to have taken any mementos for yourself, at any rate.

"Congratulations on your graduation," he added, as if an afterthought, as he turned away. "Your exams are a mere formality."

His white coat flapped in his wake as he strode away and vanished around the corner.

That was perhaps the most he'd ever said to her at any one time—that didn't, at least, consist of medical jargon and strictly relate to research work. Megumi stared after him, nonplussed.

In the envelope were three photographs and a note—from his prescription pad, as it turned out. Megumi allowed herself a grin, unfolding it to find, in crisp black strokes:

"Thanks

Apologies

Best Wishes."

They were photographs of... her, she was surprised to find; somehow he had taken them during their brief stay and even more brief moments together in Prague, when she had hardly even noticed that he had brought a camera. She had forgotten to bring hers. Rosy-cheeked and shiny-nosed from the cold, bundled up in plaid scarf and woolly red hat, in one photo she was clutching a paper cup of coffee as she gaped up at the soaring facade of a magnificent old Gothic church. In another shot, she was laughing as she spoke with a street artist, unconsciously tucking her wayward hair behind her ear—Megumi smiled to herself, recalling the flirtatious young man who had insisted in cheerful, broken English on sketching her for a fee; she had finally rebuffed him, but he had still called down the block to her in the most embarrassing way, drawing the looks and sympathetic laughter of passersby.

The third photo was gorgeously shot through with red and amber light. Like the other photos, Aoshi had taken it from a considerable distance away; in this one, he was behind her as they crossed the Charles bridge, bathed in fading sunlight, on their way home from one of the conference sessions. The wind caught at her hair, exposing her ear, pink from the deepening chill. Her face was half turned toward the sunlight, which traced her cheek in gold; she was looking over the bridge's railing, toward the water glimmering with the echoes of the dwindling light and the reflections of the gray, graceful spires of the city, some windows already lit from within. Striding along by herself, a statuesque slim figure in her long black coat, her hair lifting with the breeze, she looked fragile and lost and alone in the crowd of large-bodied Europeans and cooing, hand-holding couples.

She found Sanosuke sitting on a damp bench outside the hospital entrance. He looked up as she approached, as though he had been expecting her.

"I'll see you home," he said gruffly, rising to his feet, thrusting his hands into his pockets.

She did not object. They rode the bus homeward in silence, Megumi watching the afternoon sunlight slant in through the windows, flicker golden across the bored faces of passengers, wondering.

tsuzuku

Many many thanks and apologies I owe to my very patient readers, as well. I started this story around the time I started law school and it looks like I will (or should!) be ending it after I've finished law school, too (fingers crossed). Thank you especially to those who reviewed--it reminds me that there are actual living, breathing human beings to whom I owe these long-overdue chapters.

I haven't been writing fiction (or indeed, anything "for fun") in a long while, so I hope I haven't disappointed too much. And if I have, please forgive me--it will take some more practice yet to get the rust off.

Thanks again and see you again soon!