Myosotis

(Forget-me-not)

Ryan Maslow stared upon the image of a slumbering Mika on the hospital bed and resisted the urge to roll his eyes. This wasn't the first time he'd walked into her private ward to find his convalescing mate clutching on to some dusty manila folder in her sleep like her life depended on it. He'd walked in to the same thing the day before. At this point, he should get used to it and be grateful she was catching some sleep at the very least.

Mika has always been so passionate, so headstrong, so persistent—all traits he secretly adored. When she'd asked for the report on the case he was working on, he'd given in after a few fuss. After all, the woman was still recovering from been staked in the chest with a sword from their last Ozunu mission—he'd assumed she wouldn't be such a problem if he gave her a little taste of what he and his team back at Europol were working on.

In hindsight, that had been a bad idea.

Not only did Mika ask for another report, after another, after another. She took advantage of her new promotion into partner status to ask for a makeshift office complete with a laptop and the copies of all the classified data on the case at hand. By extension, and for security purposes, Ryan eventually had to push for the installation of CCTV so that no one went in or out of the ward with his knowledge.

Not even him—who shall not be mentioned.

Closing the door quietly behind him, Ryan finally went to sit on the bed beside Mika's sleeping form. He stared down at her fondly whilst brushing away a few wayward strands that disturbed her angular face. He tried to pick the manila folder from Mika's clasp with all the stealth he could master, but the woman held it down with such vice!

How was that even possible? He laughed.

Delicately, he brushed the back of his hand against her cheeks as she began to stir in her sleep, rolling unto her side along with the folder. That did it! If he couldn't snatch the folder then, then he couldn't do it now that it was underneath her. Besides, he didn't want to wake her up. God knew she needed all the sleep she could have.

He could sit here and watch her all day. Watch the soft heaving of her chest, the disarray of her now frizzy hair spilling out of the hold of her rubber band. The upturn of her chisselled jaw as she stretched mildly in her sleep. And he did—watched her—until he realized he was doing it too much. He didn't want to appear a creep should she wake up to find him ogling her. So, he allowed his gaze to wander around the room instead.

This was a room he knew like the pinky of his left hand that wasn't there anymore—the get-well-soon cards from Mika's parents when they flew in here from the states, those from the friends she'd made here in Berlin and from her mates from the office all placed conveniently on the stand right beside her bed, a jar of water and a glass for it just right beside. The ginormous fuzzy teddy he'd bought for her on impulse the day she'd first come around after one month of been out cold from unconsciousness. A small Ikea folder cabinet housing copies of all the classifieds she'd asked for and case reports. Everything was as they should be.

He flinched.

Everything, but that.

Ryan clambered to his feet and approached the closed window, confounded.

Where did that come from?

The log in had revealed no visit from anyone today. No deliveries either. Besides, he'd been sure to scan through the surveillance tapes back at home. So, how had he missed that. It wasn't there the day before. Wasn't there an hour ago when he'd left home.

Reaching out across the window sill, he caressed the delicate blue, yellow blossoms. They were definitely freshly potted. He picked up the potted flowers and checked for anything that could even remotely identify the giver by. But, there was nothing.

Frustrated, he kissed his tongue and set it back. He would find out once he went home. Nothing escapes his— "Ryan?"

Oh—hey. He turned to her. "You're up."

She had a distant look in her eyes as she worried a corner of her lips. "Can't believe I didn't hear you come in—again. Twice in one day and I was sleeping like a damn corpse!"

Hold on. "Again? Twice in one day?" Was Mika implying he'd been here twice today?

Mika narrowed her eyes getting suspicious. "What? Didn't you bring me—" she nodded towards the window. "—that this morning? What are those called anyway? They're pretty. Thank you."

Ryan massaged the back of his neck—speechless. What could he say to that? To respond otherwise or God forbid—clarify that he had no idea who's gift that was, was to concede that he was failing where her security was concerned. He couldn't have that. Wouldn't have Mika follow through with her request for a handgun.

"You're safe here," Ryan assured instead. Hands shoved into his pockets, he took his time getting to her. "Two guards out front, CCTV in here, your very own Superman— "hello!" he thumbed to himself with a corny smile—"right here by your side…"

Mika tossed him a mischievous smile, rolling her eyes. A response that made him stand taut with his chest out and feet apart ( oh, you could see the train of his red cape billowing behind if you whacked your head a few times). Mika couldn't help it and broke out into a hysterical giggle. And, it was music to Ryan's ears. His chest grew warm and his heart lulled with content. That was the first time in the past two months Ryan was convinced he was finally getting Mika back. That pleased him greatly. He'd witnessed the devastation their last mission had had on her. Mika was a force of nature. Always up and vibrant, up and doing. It had been hell watching her waste away unconscious for a whole month after surgery. And the way she'd drowned herself into work when she was supposed to be taking it easy and recovering—it had ripped at his heart. It had been her coping mechanism. Ryan had known that. Still…

He grabbed a chair and sat himself beside Mika. "Sleep looks good on you. You should do it more often."

"Not if we're going to solve this case." she started to look around for something. Ryan recognized it had to be the folder she'd been sleeping with.

"Easy girl," he cautioned, holding up his hands to stop her from moving. He stood up instead. "Hold still. You're still in bandages for Christ sake! Don't move." He maneuvered around her bed to the other side, and just as he suspected, the damn folder had flopped to the padded floor. It was rumpled to a fold on the lower left corner. "Looking for this—" he stopped dead when he caught the name sprawled at the front. He held back the folder from her outstretched hands and exhaled skywards. Trying to hold his rising tempers in check. When he looked at her again, she was eyeing him pointedly with that what-the-hell look.

"Give me the folder, Ryan." She asked with an arbitral calm that should have warned Ryan.

"Not this again, Mika. This…" he brandished the Raizo folder. "…this isn't healthy. We're not doing THIS again."

"The folder, Ryan." She started to seethe coldly. "Give me the damn folder."

"No."

"Ryan?

"Yes?"

She was wheezing now. Her arms could fall off her shoulders from how she strained it towards him. Give me the damn, fucking folder. Now!" When he didn't comply, she made to clamber off the bed, but Ryan stopped her in record speed to hold her down by her shoulder. Enough so that he could look into her irate, brown eyes."

"You're better than this, Mika." She glared at him. He glared back. "Better than this. I need that Mika back."

For a few beats, no one flinched. It was a stare off.

"Fine…Mika finally surrendered with a drawl when the heat of irritation left her eyes. She leaned back into her pillows and stared overhead at the white, spotless ceiling. "Don't give it to me," she shrugged. "I don't care."

Sighing in relief, Ryan took back his seat but kept the folder away. Mika's obsession with the bloody Ninja guy had skyrocketed especially since he hadn't returned to seek her out. Naturally, after such show of bravery where a careless woman threw herself in harms way between a bloody Ninja intent on killing his grandmaster, the least one could do was show up and say bloody thank you. But not him.

When Ryan was sure Mika had settled into herself, he told her with empathy: "He's not coming back, Mika. He never did." It was better to have her believe that. It was for her own protection.

She replied with a small voice choked with heavy emotion, "I don't care," she refused to look at Ryan as she continued to stare overhead at the ceiling. When a stream of tear cascaded down one side of her cheek, she sniffled.

The depth of her heartbreak was palpable and it tugged on his heartstrings. Ryan would do anything for Mika. Everything, but putting her in Raizo's path—again.

He stood up and perched beside her on her bed. Took her hand in his. The contrast of her brown skin against his pale ones was always nice to see. He pressed a chaste kiss to the back of her hand. "Go to sleep," he said with a dry voice. "I'll return tomorrow with an update you'd want to know.

He kissed her goodbye on her forehead and walked to the door. He gave the potted flowers a long ominous glare and stepped out, the door clicking behind him.

In the solitude of the private ward, Mika quietly wept.