CB: Cat and Mouse, -II-

I leave the bar as quickly as I can manage while still maintaining my dignity. How did he find me? After so much time running, I guess I just got careless. It was reassuring, though, to think that I wasn't running for nothing. My heart sped up when he leaned over me, and it is a very nice thing to feel wanted, especially by someone you've grown to…

I shake my head, pressing my back against the wall once I'm far enough away that he can't just step outside and see me. The place on my leg where he put his hand is warm and burning, the way I've missed his hands. Not that I've been waiting around for him… just…

The memory of him has been more vivid than anyone else I've come across in the past three years. I tip my head back against the cool, rough stone of the building and let one of the memories wash over my mind.

*

It was maybe the second or third time when we'd fought ourselves right into the bedroom, and wore each other out. He had passed out some time after we finished, and I found myself with his face nestled against my chest, and arm possessively tucked around my waist. I thought he was asleep, from the even rise and fall of his back with his breathing, but as I took another drag off of my cigarette, his free hand came up and lifted it from my lips.

"Hey!"

"Haven't we had enough fighting for one day?" he asked in a contented sounding voice as he hauled himself effortlessly up onto an elbow over me, the cigarette hanging from his lips. "I thought you were tired." His off-color eyes searched my face and I found myself feeling rather vulnerable under his gaze.

"I thought you were sleeping," was the only reply I had for him. I glanced up at the ceiling to avoid the piercing look he had been favoring me with. He smirked. "Were you asleep at all?"

"How could I sleep with that sort of a cushion?" I was tempted to slap him, except that the rest of him was completely inoffensive at that moment. His hands hadn't moved to accentuate his words, and his expression was even and relaxed.

"You're horrible," I muttered instead, turning my head to the side and letting my hair fall over my face. And then I felt his hand gently brush the hair from my face, and his fingers trace my cheekbone. Trying not to breathe, I hoped only that he wouldn't take it off of my skin, but even holding myself rigidly still didn't keep up the gentle contact for long. He reached over me to tap the ashes of the cigarette into the ashtray by the bed and then put it back into my lips, shifting his body slightly to lay with his face pressed into the pillow.

I blinked, slightly confused at the arm still looped around my waist, and finished my cigarette, leaning back against the pillows and turning my head to glance at him.

"Get some sleep Faye," he muttered, absently, in a half-asleep voice.

It was the hand that I couldn't ignore.

And because I didn't want him to get up and go to his own room just yet, I closed my eyes and concentrated on the feeling of the hand on my back, and eventually sleep took me.

*

Opening my eyes slowly, I find a man uncomfortably close, with drool coming out of the corner of his mouth. "How much?" he asks.

Narrowing my eyes, I pull my gun, and press it against his temple, "More than you can afford, friend."

Getting the hint, he backs away, slowly, with his hands raised, and I tuck the gun away, shoving my hands into the pockets of my jacket and heading off for what passes for home at the moment.