Stormy Night (Dal-Geon)
Dal-Geon didn't know what to expect as he turned the door handle, his heart was pounding rapidly, sweat started to gather at his temples and forehead. He had an ominous feeling that something was wrong, and the news he got from Lily earlier didn't help. Maybe they were found? Did the errand-girl give them away? Was the security system breached and somehow, someone manage to break in? The questions kept chasing each other in his head.
Swinging the door open, he stepped outside, his muscles tense, preparing for anything that might come at him. He didn't even think of checking the room quietly to assess the situation before bursting out. His only concern was Hae-Ri, he had to reach her now.
The room was quiet, almost too quiet, and at first sight - empty. He looked around in near panic, and found Hae-Ri slumped on the sofa to his right with her back to him, her head hanging low. He relaxed somewhat once his eyes landed on her still form, and he felt some of the tension leaving his body. He went on to scan the room quickly, then headed to the door to check the security panel for any intruders or breach, then went to the bedroom and looked around it, making sure no one was lurking in the shadows. When he was sure that the house was clear, he turned back and started toward the front area, and spotted the culprit at once.
Fragments of glass in various sizes were scatter in and around a puddle of water at the foot of the sofa. Seeing that the side table was now empty, the source proved to be a glass of water that he left there before getting in the shower. Alarming red drops covered the glassy mess, darker in some places, diluted in others, with a small puddle of blood around Hae-Ri's bare feet. She was completely still, and seemed disturbingly unaware to her calamitous surroundings. Dal-Geon's heart dropped. Something wasn't right.
Hood up and mask on, he carefully made his way around the disaster zone and came toward Hae-Ri from the other side of the sofa. Her head was hanging low, her face was hidden, covered almost completely by her hair, and her hands rested limply in her lap. Hesitant, he reached his hand toward her, meaning to push her hair out of her face, to put a finger under her chin and tilt it up so he could see her expression, but thought better of it and let his arm drop lamely.
It was clear as day that she was injured, and also possibly hurt in an entirely different way. Dal-Geon bent down and gently grabbed her around the ankles, lifting her legs and placing them on the table. A little pool of blood was starting to form where her heels touched the wood.
He took a quick glance at the soles of her feet. There were several ugly gashes, some with a piece of glass breaking through the surface like an iceberg. Her left foot seemed to be in somewhat better condition than the right, but by no means was it free of harm. Hae-Ri didn't seem to mind at all, which worried him more than all the blood. She didn't move an inch, and looked determined to keep her head down, hidden from him. He couldn't blame her.
He got off the sofa and hurriedly marched to the bathroom, grabbing a mop, brush and dustpan, and went on to clean up the hazardous mess, first picking up the largest pieces of glass and tossing them to the dustpan, then raked up the rest, leaving it aside. He mopped up the water and blood that covered the floor, then emptied the dustpan in the trash and put everything away.
He went on to fill a tub with warm water and soap and brought it out to the living room, placing it below Hae-Ri's legs that were still propped up on the table. He rolled up her pant legs halfway to her knee, removed her feet from the table, and placed them heels first in the water, so as to not put any pressure on the shards of glass that were still lodged in her flesh. She didn't resist, her body seemed entirely devoid of strength.
Going back to the bathroom, he grabbed the first aid kit and a clean hand towel from under the sink, and hurried back to her. He sat to her right and looked down at the water that were now tainted with blood, when he saw a dark movement from the corner of his eye. His head automatically snapped to his left, gaze locked on the glistening wide eyes that peered at him from under the heavy curtain of her long, dark hair, head raised just enough to look at his face.
He knew he had to look away, but couldn't. He was trapped by her eyes. She had a most curious look about her, one he had never seen before. It was a mixture of pain and shock, and a few other things he couldn't put his finger on. She looked like she just woke up after being completely immersed in a dream, and now tried to readjust to reality. Her eyes were filled with tears, every now and then one got loose and rolled down her cheek, down her nose, over her lips. Her hair was a chaotic mess around her head, strands stuck to her skin where her tears left their wet trails.
At that moment, though she looked utterly miserable, he couldn't help but think that there was an exceptional beauty in her fragility. Seeing her like that moved something very primal and protective within him, and though it has been a long time since he decided to leave his past behind, at that moment he didn't want to. He wanted to comfort her, calm her, and so desperately wanted to talk to her, but knew it was pointless. What he wished for would never come to be, what he wanted was of no consequence. He would never allow himself to be so reckless only to fulfill his wants. He would never put her in danger because of his selfishness.
The life he's been living, the things he had to do under Black Sun's orders, the fact that his life revolved around vengeance, constantly surrounded by his enemies... The danger surrounded him every second of every day since his first day in Morocco, even more so after surviving that damn fire. If anyone ever came to find out that he was still alive, she would be the first one to be in danger. Immediately be targeted by Edward and his henchmen, she would be used just to get to him, just to hurt him, to break him down and make him submit. That possibility scared him the most, more than losing his life, and the worst thing was that Edward knew that. Even so, though he constantly tried to ignore it, refusing to acknowledge what would only hinder him, Dal-Geon couldn't help but feel scared for a very different reason. Scared to be forgotten.
It's been a long time since his alleged passing, since he had last seen Hae-Ri at the columbarium that day. Seeing her consumed by grief as mourned him made him realize the magnitude of what laid between them. That which never had a chance to fully develop, never came to fruition. It was undeniably strong, so much stronger than he believed, only realizing the full extent and depth of their bond and his feelings when he lost her forever.
Hae-Ri wasn't the only one mourning a loss. He knew in his heart that there would never be another that would touch his soul like she did, no one that would match the meaning she held. He kept reminding himself that it was more than probable that a girl like Hae-Ri has already found someone to fill her heart, someone else to care for her. He had no doubt that men lined up for her to choose from. Maybe that bastard Gi finally reciprocated her interest… Even though he truly wished for her happiness with all his heart, he couldn't help but get upset just thinking of the possibility that Gi occupied her heart.
There was no denying that Dal-Geon was now nothing but a sad memory that belonged in her past. There was no reason for her to hold on to a dead guy. Still, he wasn't dead, he was alive, and the thought of being left behind and forgotten made him fear he would also end up forgetting himself. Though he was scared to death that no one, including himself, would remember him, he knew it was for the best, and more than that, knew it was inevitable the moment he chose this path.
Feeling like a rubber band suddenly snapped inside his head, Dal-Geon came out of his trance to find they were staring intently into each other's eyes. Panicking, he blinked several times, collected himself, and turn to face the TV. His heart was pounding hard from the intense moment they shared, beads of sweat rolled from his temples down his neck and finally soaked in the collar of his shirt.
Trying to ignore the impact of her gaze's gravity, Dal-Geon somehow managed to recomposed himself. He made a conscious effort not to look directly at her face again, and stole an occasional glimpse from the corner of his eye, which lasted no more than a fraction of a second.
The soaking water in the tub was considerably tainted with blood, and Dal-Geon thought it was about time to move on to the next step. He threw the towel over his knees and cursed himself for unconsciously clearing his throat, as he leaned forward and pulled her feet out of the tub. He moved her legs up onto his lap, his fingers digging into the soft flesh of her shins. Once the tub was freed, he shoved it out of the way and under the coffee table with his foot, miraculously managing to avoid spraying water on the floor.
He bent his head over her feet and assessed the damage. Most of the cuts have stopped bleeding and were rather clean. There were two large pieces that were clearly visible, four smaller ones, and one more that was wedged deeper and was harder to see. Her left foot was in better shape, with only three shards that didn't seem to be that deep. The cuts were scattered all over the surface of her foot, not just at the balls of her feet or heels, which made it clear that Hae-Ri didn't try at all to avoid stepping on the broken glass. Dal-Geon was worried, what the hell has happened during the time he was in the shower? She was perfectly fine before, leisurely playing cards on her bed. He couldn't ask her, of course, and other than tending to her wounds, he couldn't do anything to help her, which again proved to be a great source of frustration.
Dal-Geon reached for the first aid kit that waited on the table, popped the lid off and grabbed a large pair tweezers. He started picking out pieces of glass from Hae-Ri's right foot, then moved to the left, being as gentle as possible, trying not to hurt her any more than she was already hurting. Hae-Ri was silent throughout the entire process, not uttering a sound even when Dal-Geon struggled to get a hold on the smallest of the pieces, which couldn't be pleasant. Sneaking a peek here and there, Dal-Geon was very aware that Hae-Ri was intently staring at him the whole time. He was hot and nervous, sweating under his clothes. His face was burning, and he was glad she couldn't see it.
Dal-Geon finally finished fishing out all fragments of glass out of Hae-Ri's feet, a little pile of crystal in the pool of blood that was starting to clot on the table. He gently pressed the towel to the bottom of her feet to clean up the remaining blood and dry the soapy moisture. This time, Hae-Ri flinched. Though he hated to hurt her, Dal-Geon was actually kind of satisfied to see her respond. He instinctively looked up to assess her expression, and found her still staring at him. Their eyes met.
Suddenly seeming to regain awareness after being submerged in another world for a long time, seeming flustered and embarrassed from being caught staring, Hae-Ri averted her eyes and turned her face away from him, absentmindedly tucking behind her ear a stray strand of hair that was hanging in front of her face, stuck to her cheek where tears had dried. The unfamiliar gesture brought on Dal-Geon's turn to stare, as a warm pink blush tainted her cheeks. His heart stopped for a moment that seemed endless, a second moment, a third, then restarted, thudding wildly in his chest, making his ears ring. He swallowed hard.
Get it together, what the hell are you doing?
He was screaming at himself inside his head. He shut his eyes hard for a moment, knowing that she wasn't looking, took a deep breath, then another one, and turned his head away from her before opening his eyes again. This proximity was dangerous. He had to be done with it as quickly as possible and get as far away from her as this apartment allowed.
He finished drying her feet, mechanically applied disinfectant and ointment, placed a piece of gauze at the sole of each foot before wrapping it up with a bandage, and taped down the edges. Finally done, and feeling like he hasn't breathed in a while, he removed her legs from his lap and gently placed them on the sofa, quickly getting up and starting to clear the disaster zone. He cleaned the table, removing remnants of blood and glass, drained the tub in the shower and returned everything to its rightful place, very aware to the fact that he was just trying to keep himself busy.
When he was done tidying up, feeling like he had finally managed to calm himself down, he boiled some water and made two cups of tea, thinking both of them could use the relaxing and comforting effect of a warm drink. He walked back to the living room and placed both cups on the table, one in front of her, the other in front of him, knowing it could be a while before he'd get to remove his mask and drink it. Even so, just the thought of sharing a cup of tea with her was nice enough. He reclaimed his place at the far end of the sofa, sitting on the very edge, leaving plenty of room behind him for her injured feet.
She instantly sat up, and he realized he must have made her uncomfortable, regretting sitting there and disturbed her rest. She pulled her knees up and turned around to face the front, lowering her feet to the floor, gingerly experimenting with letting them carry a little weight. Dal-Geon heard her suck breath in pain, and turned his head just a fraction to the left, to see how bad it was. Her face still held some unknown restrained emotion, but it didn't seem like the pain from her injury was responsible for that.
She stared at the cup of tea that waited for her on the table and meant to reach for it, but Dal-Geon figured she might have trouble leaning forward and put more of her weight on her injured feet. He reached out and grabbed her cup, offering it to her, and she reached out both hands toward it, slowly closing the distance. She warped her palms around the cup, lightly grazing Dal-Geon fingers with her own. A current of electricity went from where she touched him and spread throughout his body. He fought against the urge to let go of the cup and draw hid hand back, wanting to break the too welcome touch that would only hinder his will power. He was grateful, though it was also a bit regretful, that Hae-Ri was quick to pull back and settled in her seat. She brought the steaming liquid under her nose and blew on it a couple of times, then sipped once, twice.
She raised her gaze, her eyes trapping him again, and slowly lowered the cup, letting it rest on her lap, as she studied what she could see of his face. It felt like a long moment has passes before Dal-Geon noticed the change in her eyes. It looked like something that she was holding in was about to explode out of her. Her eyes were slowly turning a shade of red, shining under the pale light, blazing with something he couldn't understand. He knew he shouldn't let it go on, but found himself unable to look away.
To him, Hae-Ri was like a planet with its own special gravitational force that quickly sucked him in the moment he got just a little too close, leaving him unable to resist, helpless, subjected to her mercy. The endless moment went on, and Dal-Geon was not even aware to the fact that his entire body has shifted in her direction. Even his feet were pointing at her, as if she held control over his body, as if she was the north to his inner compass, as if she was a magnet, and he, a puny piece of worthless metal.
Her eyes began to fill with tears, so large that they made her pupils blurry behind them before leaving her eyes, rolling down her rosy cheeks, dropping down from her chin. She raised her left hand and covered her eyes, hiding herself, bowing her head into her palm. Almost instantly she started to shake. She was saying something in a low, weeping, broken voice, but Dal-Geon couldn't make any sense of it. He though it sounded like "thank god", but then again, it was so low as to be nearly inaudible.
Hae-Ri seemed to be falling apart. Her crying became more and more violent, the initial shaking turned into subdued sobbing, and finally emerged as broken wails of sorrow. She let go of her face and kept her chin tucked to her chest. Her face hidden behind her dark curtain of hair, as she grabbed a fistful of fabric of the too large pants she was wearing, clenching so tight that her knuckles turned white. It looked like she had not given up control yet, desperately trying to contain her sorrow that tried to break free, still holding in something of such magnitude that had her struggling, reluctant to let it reveal itself in its true form.
Dal-Geon was paralyzed, and had not even the slightest idea of what he should do. His mind was blank, his vision turned blurry. He wanted to comfort her, it pained him to see her like that, but there was nothing he could allow himself to do that wouldn't ricochet.
Thoroughly miserable, suddenly all his reasons for not revealing himself to her became meaningless. He couldn't remember why he decided not to tell her that it was him, here with her, well and alive, and so madly captivated by her that every part of his being was filled with her, drawn to her. His body continued to move on its own, sucked into her world. He reached out a hand and released the shaky cup of tea out of hers, replacing it on the table, when suddenly he felt not only a gravitational pull, but also a physical one. Her freed right hand fastened around the sleeve of his shirt. Not resisting her pull, he resettles himself in his seat and looked at her, his mind muted by her sorrow.
"Why did you do it?" she asked between sobs in a ragged voice, strained from crying.
"Why did you do it?", she asked again and again, letting go of his shirt to pound his arm with her fist, strong enough to make his teeth rattle.
"Why?", she then lifted her head and looked straight into his eyes accusingly, angrily, raising her voice, hitting him again. She had no fear of retaliation, filled with confidence that no harm would come to her for whatever she did to the dangerous stranger he pretended to be. And though she was right, since he could never harm her, she was not aware of the fact that this particular kidnapper would do nothing to hurt her, though a different one could. A different one would.
Dal-Geon was thoroughly baffled. She did an array of things that were so unlike her, and that strange agonized look in her eyes that suddenly appeared out of the blue didn't make any sense to him. She wasn't like this up until moments ago, and nothing special has happened since they came to the safe house. What could have triggered this? Maybe things were finally sinking in, and the shock of being kidnapped was taking over. Maybe she finally allowed herself to lose her composure, which was long overdue under the circumstances. Even so, that also was unlike the very special agent Go.
She was sensitive, and she was fragile and delicate, but not in the common way. Under situations such as this she was composed and brave and calculated, fierce and clever. He has witnessed it with his own eyes, and not only once or twice. She could take care of herself and several others without breaking down, focused on what had to be done.
His mind filled with endless questions. Did that mean she lost all hope? Was the situation so dire that she thought she wouldn't be able to overcome it, that there was nothing left for her to do? Maybe it was the elaborate impenetrable security system that turned escape impossible? Or maybe she had no one she could depend on to look for her on the outside? He didn't know much about her current affairs, the only things his squad was told were that a foreign woman was schedules to meet with royalty. A reliable rumor pinned her as a lobbyist and the meeting a negotiation, probably regarding oil. They were ordered to prevent her from attending that appointment, and any future appointments, by eliminating her en-route. It seemed unlikely to him that no one would be looking for a person who arrived to meet with the Sheikh, even more so if the rumors were true. Someone was definitely waiting for her to report back. But even if it was true, he knew all too well how heartless those bastards that valued money more than life could be. How easy it was for them to fill in a position once someone proved to be useless, or disappeared for whatever reason.
Hae-Ri kept crying for a long time, asking "why" again and again, pounding his arm with her fist. She was quickly getting tired from crying, each hit turned softer than the previous, her voice became hoarse and small in her desperation for answers that he could never give her. Finally, she let her head drop forward, thumping him on the shoulder.
"How could you do this", she whispered with no hope or desire of getting an answer. It was more an accusation than a question.
I wanted to protect you, he wished he could say.
Her resentment for his actions didn't pain him. For her, he was nothing but a kidnapper, a criminal that was confining her against her will, a person who was a threat to her safety, maybe her life. For her, he was nothing but danger. He had no delusions that it could be anything but that, it shouldn't be anything but that. It did pain him that he was causing her such distress, but it was better than the alternative. Her safety was everything, her life the only thing that mattered. Once he sends her home everything would be fine.
Her fingers fastened around his sleeve again, as if to keep his hand planted in place. She raised her left hand, releasing the fistful of pants she was holding the whole time, and listlessly landed her fist on his chest, hitting him again and again as if in slow motion, when finally, her tired arm came to rest open handed on his chest. The room turned silent, there was no sound but her even breathing. Hae-Ri had exhausted herself and fell sleep.
Dal-Geon sat there like a statue, making his best not to move, though his heart felt like it could jump out of his chest and onto her lap any second now. He counted his breaths, focusing on regaining his composure, while her hand slowly slid down his chest in her sleep. He didn't want to move for so many reasons. He wasn't sure what exactly was going on, but it was clear that he was the cause for her pain, and it hurt him to see her in this state. He didn't want to disturb her much needed sleep, and, if he was being honest, he wished to stay close to her for just a little while longer.
Now that she was so deep asleep, he felt like the danger subsided a tiny bit, that it was maybe okay to be with her like this when she was too exhausted for him to be caught. The minutes passed, and after an immeasurable amount of time it was clear that she was too far gone for her sleep to be easily disrupted.
Feeling confident that he wouldn't be caught, Dal-Geon used his free hand to pull down the mask, reached out for his almost forgotten cup of tea and sipped slowly, quietly. The liquid was no more than lukewarm, if even that, but with his left shoulder cushioning the head of the girl he kept in his heart, the girl he thought he would never see again, it was the best cup of tea he had had in a very long time, maybe ever.
Her hand kept sliding bit by bit down his chest, past his stomach, until finally it landed in his lap. Dal-Geon drained his tea and replaced his cup on the table, making sure it didn't make a sound, moving very carefully so as to not disturb her sleep. With a blank mind, as if his body was acting on its own, he let his hand make its way to the limp delicate fingers that rested on his thigh, palm down. He was just millimeters away when suddenly fear overcame him and stopped his hand in mid-air, as his consciousness emerged out of the trance he was in.
Though he wanted nothing more than to touch her, he knew that if he allowed himself a momentary slip just to indulge an urge he shouldn't have, he would come to regret it. Thoughts of the day they would have to part already made his heart squeeze uncomfortably, and he tried not to think about the day after Hae-Ri. He has already been through a day like that, and the effect lasted way beyond that particular day.
He thought he would never see her again, and there she was, right next to him, touching him. That was a blessing in itself. If he allowed himself to become greedy, the goodbye would be so much more painful. It would be unbearable. The closer he got to her, the more dangerous it was. He should be happy with what he got, he told himself, and send her off to live a happy and safe life, far away from him, who was nothing but danger to her. The best thing he could do for her was stay out of her life, he was sure of that.
Pulling his mask back on and feeling his heart silently breaking in his chest, he pried her fingers open, gently releasing her grip on his sleeve, and wiggled the now free arm behind her back, while snaking the other under her knees. He stood up in one fluid movement with Hae-Ri sleeping in his arm, carful not to jolt her awake.
Hae-Ri sleepily wrapped her arms around his neck in a tight hug, and tucked her head under his chin. He felt warm moisture run down his neck as she cried silently in her sleep, breaking his heart further. His arms tightened around her body, pressing her against him, the closest thing to a hug he had to offer, the only comfort he could provide, though it seemed to have the opposite effect as she started shaking in his arms. Resigned and helpless, he carried her to the room, gently placed her on the bed and covered her with the blanket, when she grabbed his sleeve again.
Though it was dark, the light from the front room allowed him to see her face clearly. Her eyes were open and glistening, and she was looking straight at him. She opened and closed her mouth as if to say something. Once again he was locked in her gaze, pulled in by her own personal gravitational field as he felt himself fighting the urge to lean closer. She finally gave up on whatever it was that she wanted to say, and settled for sinking her teeth in her lower lip. She let go of his sleeve and rolled to her left, turning her back to him.
It looked like she was still shaking, and the hurt in her eyes gave him an uncomfortable feeling, as if he committed a great sin, which was the truth in more ways than one. He felt like she was banishing him from her side, bringing a mixture of fear and anxiety to settle in his stomach. Something was definitely wrong, and there was no doubt that he was at fault.
Without noticing, once again falling into the trance that was Hae-Ri's presence, he found himself standing there silently, looking at her until she finally stopped shaking, her breathing turned slow and even. She turned on her back, kicking the blanket away.
Feeling like his consciousness was trapped in another dimension, looking down on him as his body once again acted on its own, screaming at him to get a grip, he reached a hand to push stray strands of hair from her face very gently, just barely grazing her skin with the tips of his fingers, revealing cheeks streaked with dried tears. He covered her with the discarded blanket, knowing it wouldn't be long before she kicked it aside again, and retreated to the living room, feeling heartbroken, weak and shaky.
