Author: Kate
Summary: A companion piece/sequel/second chapter to "Lost," this time from Luka's POV.
Rating: G
Disclaimer: See part 1. I still don't own them.
~*~
I didn't think it would be this hard to tell her. But when she says she'll see me tomorrow, I'm suddenly filled with this desperate need to protect her. From what, I don't know. And I choke a bit on the words as I tell her I'm going to the Congo.
Her face immediately changes. I read a progression of disbelief, anger, resignation, worry, and grief – yes, grief – pass over her features. My first, almost automatic, response is to smile. I need to reassure her, to be the strong one. Come on, don't worry, I'll be back. But I can't say the words because, honestly, I don't know.
And then, almost before I know what is happening, we're moving towards each other. My arms open and she steps into them, folding herself up in me. I'm surprised for a moment, then just let myself feel.
She fits. She always has, but somehow now, after months of no contact, this embrace seems to fall into place more perfectly than our others ever did. I feel her body relax in my arms and I close my eyes, dipping my head closer to her shoulder.
I vaguely feel us rocking back and forth slowly and I tighten my arms around her. Breathing in her scent that I thought I'd forgotten, I think for a fleeting moment that if she asks me to stay, I will. It's magnetic, this power she holds over me.
And then, as quickly as the embrace began, she pulls away. She's looking down, so I can only tell by the catch in her voice that she's struggling against tears. "Take care of yourself." So she won't ask me to stay. I'm surprised to find myself disappointed, but by the time she lifts her eyes to mine, I'm smiling again. "I mean it," she insists, not seeming to believe my smile.
My arms are too empty. Is that how quickly I could get used to her again – a matter of seconds? My mind rushes for something to say, and I briefly consider a mix-up of an American expression. I know that would make her smile. But somehow, humor would spoil this moment, whatever kind of moment it is. "Hold down the fort," I tell her, and she looks at me blankly. I pause, hoping for one word from her, one word that will make me stay.
Finally, it's all I can do to turn away from her pained eyes. It takes every bit of my strength to walk out the door, away from the only one who can fill my arms completely.