Above All Else (Hae-Ri)
Hae-Ri opened her eyes, feeling like she didn't get any sleep at all. She was exhausted, feeling like she was extremely active in her dreams. She remembered none of them, but she was pretty sure she knew who starred in them. Her nose was congested and her sinuses were terribly clogged, which brought on a familiar headache, throbbing rhythmically in her temples as if tiny little creatures were mining coal inside her skull. Her face was swollen and stiff, feeling almost as if it was petrified after all the crying she did. She tried to clear her itchy throat, which was sore and raw, managing to omit only a pitiful croak which announced that she had lost her voice.
This morning she wasn't disoriented when she woke up, unlike before. She knew exactly where she was, and remembered exactly what happened last night. She knew better than to second-guess herself this time, and felt like what she discovered was now carved into her heart with a blunt, heated iron blade. Dal-Geon was alive. It wasn't a speculation, nor was it hope or dream. It was the irrefutable truth.
Her mind was a lot clearer compared to the disaster that was last night, when she was overcome by shock, consumed by too many feelings to name, making her unrecognizable in her own eyes. To her satisfaction, today was different. With a levelled head, she tried to sort out the conflicting emotions that battled inside her, brought on by the unexpected revelation that he was alive.
First, there was the fact that he cruelly disappeared and let her believe that he was dead. They were on more than just good terms when it happened, and she couldn't find it in herself to believe that there wasn't a reason for him to do what he did, be it a good reason or otherwise. She knew him well enough to know what kind of person he was, and she never doubted that he cared for her, and not just as a partner in crime. But if it was as she believed, then why would he do that? How could he?
Something was obviously off about that fire in the warehouse. Who did the body belong to? His necklace couldn't have gotten there without him. Was he there that night? Did he fake his own death? Whatever it was, there was definitely something meaningful behind it. There must have been something of great significance that happened that day, something that she and everyone else weren't aware of.
Even though she was positive that something did in fact happen that day, and believed that there might have been a good reason for him to make the choice he made to walk this path, she couldn't overlook the consequences. The fact that he didn't contact her and deliberately let her believe that he was dead for over a year, overshadowed any mitigating circumstances that might or might not be a factor to consider in his sentencing.
Second, there was the fact that ever since they met again, he has been doing anything he possibly could to hide his identity from her. Other than the pressing questions regarding his presence in the desert that day, and what he planned to do with her, there was one thing that bothered her most. Why didn't he tell her that it was him when they met again? He did everything in his ability to keep himself hidden. It was painfully obvious that he wanted her to stay away from him... that he wanted to stay away from her. He kept his face hidden, never talked, kept his distance and ignored her unless his attention was absolutely necessary. And yet, was that really how it was?
He did take care of her earnestly, and he was kind and attentive in his own way while playing the part of a kidnapper. This fact could also be a point in his favor in her court of judgement, but she couldn't help but wonder - what if it was just out of obligation? Though he didn't have to treat her injuries, go out of his way to prepare her meals, or get her a bag of things he thought she might need, maybe for him it was just common courtesy? She knew him well enough, even more that just that. She knew he was considerate and kind in nature. He was not the type to overlook another person's needs. If he came across anyone in need of help, he would offer a hand, no matter who it was. It didn't mean that she got any special treatment, she could just as well be a wanderer who crossed paths with the good Samaritan.
Even so, she couldn't help but think that everything he had done since they met again was for her, that the kidnapping was actually a rescue mission. Or was it just wishful thinking? She hoped not.
The fact that she was in some kind of danger was beyond doubt. She was positive that someone attempted to take her life that day in the desert. From the very beginning, she thought that the only reason that she was still alive was thanks to her captor, even before becoming aware of his kindness. Injuring himself to cover her tracks, keeping her safe during a gunfight that may or may not have been targeting her, hiding her in his fort... No matter how hard she tried, she couldn't think of a reason for her captor to behave the way he did, nor could she guess what his motives were.
Whether he was under orders, whether he was working solo, whether it was for ransom or for other personal gain… she could never really understand what it was that motivated his actions. She never considered the possibility that her captor was indeed working solo, and that his only goal was to protect her because he himself cared for her. Or so she wanted to believe. Thought this explanation would make sense, she found it nearly impossible that "care" was what motivated him, thinking it was much more likely that their shared past was the deciding factor. Maybe he didn't want to see someone he knew get hurt. He was that kind of person, after all. Even if he didn't care about her anymore, even if he never cared at all, they still shared significant times together, and surely that held some kind of value, even after he decided to forsake her.
Beyond those matters, which had more to do with his choices and actions, and had nothing much to do with her, she tried to make sense of her own feelings. There was no doubt that she was hurt, extremely so. She felt betrayed, devastated to discover what she thought lay between them was reduced to almost nothing. But those feelings all had to do with the fact that he lied. She tried to isolate the purest of her emotions from anything external that might taint them, to refine her innermost honest feelings.
Believing that she had lost him forever, her world fell apart. She dedicated every aspect of her life to avenging his death and clearing his name. Her heart has completely closed down since losing him, not letting anyone in, leaving everything but him behind, inviting his memory possess her. If she was to be honest with herself, she had to admit that ever since he was gone, her life revolved around him. And if she was to be a little more honest with herself, maybe her life started revolving around him even before that. If it wasn't so, why would she change her entire way of life for the sake of a memory, if he didn't mean the world to her?
Her actions were extreme, she was aware, but she never regretted the path she chose nor the goal she had set for herself. It was the only way that allowed her to go on. This was how much he meant to her, and it was irrelevant if she meant nothing to him. It was a fact that he didn't deserve it, that it was all based on a lie, but that didn't change the way she felt. She never managed to get over him, she was never able to deal with losing him, and even in his death he remained the sole occupant of her heart... The fact that he lied didn't change any of those things. Yet.
Being filled to the brim with regrets that never let you go, thinking of everything that would never come, all the missed opportunities, everything that could have been but never will be... Being dragged down by guilt for failing to protect him, constantly haunted by the pain of loss, stuck in the past... Losing a loved one made you carry all those heavy burdens every second of every day, forever. She was ready for it, already accepted it as a part of her life, but now she didn't have to. Her loved one was alive, and if she was to stay completely honest with herself, she was overjoyed. She could never ask for anything more. Have him hate her, discard her, run away and hide from her, lie to her and hurt her. Let him do all those and more, as long as he lived. A miracle she never thought was possible was granted, and for that she was nothing but grateful.
All things considered, Hae-Ri decided that there was room to accommodate all the conflicting emotions, at least for a while, and decided she shouldn't be so quick to make a judgment. She shouldn't allow herself to get carried away or be impulsive and do something she might regret. The fact was that she didn't know nearly enough to sentence him. She didn't know anything. All she had was questions, theories and assumptions. Now it was finally time for her to get some answers.
Seeing as he wasn't even slightly cooperative and was doing his best to keep his identity a secret, she knew that the chances that he was planning to reveal himself to her were slim. She couldn't count on him to be the one to come forward, but also didn't feel quite ready yet to deal with what might follow once she outed him, and so she decided to wait and allow her heart to settle before taking action.
Not feeling confident enough to see him yet, she stayed in her bed under the covers and pretended to sleep, allowing herself a day to calm down and organize her thoughts, and most of all, decide what her next step should be. She had to decide whether to tell him she knew, and if so – when and how, or whether to wait and give him the opportunity to come clean on his own before taking the initiative, which was infinitely preferable, though unlikely.
Eventually, she actually did fall asleep, and woke up again after a while, courtesy of a full bladder. She quietly got out of bed and went to hide behind the separating wall, completely surprised by the pain she felt the moment her feet touched the floor. That part, she forgot. Though her ankle was definitely better, almost completely healed, now both her feet were stinging like hell, as if she was walking on heated nails. She bit her lip, trying to ignore the pain, and peered at the front room from behind the wall. She couldn't see Dal-Geon in the kitchen, and the bathroom door was slightly open. She shuffled to the right, letting the sofa enter her field of vision, and saw him lying on his side with his back to her, seemingly sleeping.
She walked on the balls of her feet, which was the least painful way for her to touch the ground, and quickly made her way to the bathroom, sneaking a peek at the TV before going in. To her surprise, it was almost noon. She was extremely embarrassed to see how worn out he was after witnessing her meltdown last night. Usually, he was up and about way before she was.
She slowly opened the door, poking her nose out to assess the front room before coming out, making sure he was still sleeping. After confirming, she quickly made her way back to the room, got under the covers and went back to pretending to sleep. This time, she stayed awake.
She was getting hungry, and though she didn't plan to leave her bed unless absolutely necessary, wishing to avoid seeing him altogether for the entire day, she expected him to knock on the wall by now to announce breakfast was ready. She didn't have a clock in the room, but she was pretty sure that it was well past 12PM, and found it strange that he had yet to pop up at the entrance to get her. Moved by hunger, or maybe just using hunger as a convenient excuse, she got out of bed to peek at Dal-Geon again.
She was surprised to find him in the exact same position, and wondered what was going on with him. Was he also pretending to sleep in order to avoid dealing with her? She was absolutely mortified. She knew last night was erratic to the point of seeming almost crazy, that it was a sad display on her side, but she didn't expect him to blatantly avoid her because of that.
Suddenly angry, she made her way to kitchen, holding herself back from screaming at him at the top of her lungs. She wanted desperately to throw everything in his face, to tell him that she knew everything and to drop the act, and also to launch something heavy and solid at his head if she was already at it.
Staring daggers at his still form, she still found it hard to tear her eyes away for him, hypnotized by the rise and fall of his chest as he breathed. Forcing herself to break away, she raided the fridge and grabbed two apples. She didn't try to keep it down as she washed them, not afraid anymore that she might wake him up. She was sure he was only pretending, and that no sound in the world would bring him alive. She grabbed a plate and a knife, tucked a water bottle under her arm, and made her way back to the room.
She sat on the bed, peeled the apples and cut them into wedges, eating slowly. Even though she was sure he was putting up an act, something still didn't feel quite right. Unless he knew that she found out about him, which she was sure he didn't, there was no way to explain his behavior. Until now, no matter what she did, he still took care of her, treated her injuries and made sure she was well fed, even going out of his way to make Korean food. Even after threatening him with a knife and eventually cutting him - she cursed herself remembering the incident, though it was all his fault - he didn't treat her differently. Though he ignored her regularly, he still took care of her. Was it really her meltdown that changed everything? Did she scare him off?
To hell with him if so, she thought, and went back to her humble meal. Too upset to chew thoroughly, she choked on too large a piece, coughing and pounding her chest, then chased it down with water. She expected him to appear at the entrance at the sound of her possibly choking to death, and couldn't help but feel disappointed when he didn't.
She felt her rage build up and accumulate the more he ignored and avoided her, and stomped her way back to the kitchen, making her entrance unnecessarily loud out of spite. She threw out the apple cores and peels in the garbage bag that was starting to get packed, and washed her dished, then turned around to look at him once more. He was still stubbornly facing away from her, and while she was still mesmerized by the fact that he was breathing, it took her a moment to notice that something wasn't right.