Disclaimer: This is an adaptation of a book of the same title by Radclyffe. I do not own any of the story or characters in this fanfiction nor the original Safe Harbor and Magical Girl Lyrical Nanoha.
Chapter Three
It was close to midnight when Fate left them. It had taken that long to sketch in the outline of the last twenty years of her life. They hadn't touched on deeply personal things; neither of them had been ready for that. But it was a beginning, and it felt right. She was too excited to sleep, so she decided to drive.
She turned off Commercial Street, following the meandering turn of narrow streets to the clinic. It wasn't exactly on her way home, but nothing in the two by three-mile town was out of the way. She frowned when she saw the Jeep Cherokee still parked in the lot. The clinic was dark. Fate left her truck on the shoulder of the highway and circled through the scrub and sand to the rear of the clinic. When she gently tried the handle, the rear door swung open. Gun in hand, she made her way slowly down the hall, carefully opening each door she passed.
Rounding a corner into the shadowy reception area, she sensed movement to her right. Swinging her outstretched arms in that direction, gun double-fisted, she shouted, "Police!"
Her movement deflected the already descending blow, but pain seared along her forearm where she was struck. She propelled herself forward, catching her forehead against the edge of a metal file cabinet as she dove. She came up into a crouch, poised to fire on the shape backlit in the moonlight when a voice called out, "Sheriff, no! It's Nanoha Takamachi!"
The lights came on and Fate found herself face-to-face with the doctor, whose cane was still raised for a second sweeping strike.
"Stand down, Doctor," Fate muttered, wiping her face with one hand. Her hand came away bloody, and she swayed, suddenly dizzy.
"Sit down, Sheriff," Nanoha commanded, moving forward quickly. She grasped Fate around the waist, directing her into a chair. "You're injured."
"I need to secure this place," Fate protested, shaking her head, trying to clear her vision. "The back door was unlocked."
"Never mind that. Aina is always forgetting to lock it." Nanoha scrutinized Fate's face carefully.
"You're going to need stitches."
"I need to call for backup—"
"Why—am I under arrest? I didn't know it was you until you spoke. I heard a noise in the hall—"
"Terrific," Fate grimaced, doubly embarrassed. "First I announce my presence, then I let you take me out. Maybe you should be wearing the badge!"
Nanoha smiled grimly. "This cane is nearly as deadly as that gun of yours, at least at close range. I'm thankful I didn't break your arm." She looked at Fate with mounting concern. "I didn't, did I?"
Kneeling with some difficulty in front of Fate, she grasped Fate's right hand in hers. "Squeeze my fingers," she said.
"Can't," Fate mumbled, battling a sudden wave of nausea.
"I must have hit the median nerve," she noted clinically. "It may be a couple of hours before you can flex your fingers, but nothing seems broken."
She continued to probe along Fate's forearm, aware of the well-developed muscles under her fingers. "You're lucky you're in such good shape—your muscle mass protected you. Still, we'll need to watch for compression injuries. You're going to get a lot of swelling." She rocked back and studied Fate's face, brushing a lock of hair off Fate's forehead. The sheriff was pale, but her gaze was clear. "You've got a laceration through your eyebrow. We need to go back to the procedure room so I can take care of it. Can you walk?"
Fate nodded, holstering her gun as she carefully pushed herself to a standing position. She extended her left hand to assist Nanoha to her feet.
"I can't tell you how sorry I am, Sheriff," Nanoha began as they moved to the rear of the clinic.
"It was a lesson well learned, Doctor," Fate said grimly. "Having a gun sometimes make you overconfident. A well-trained martial artist is a real threat in close quarters. That's what you are, isn't it?"
"Sit here," Nanoha indicated, motioning to the operating table in the center of the room. She was silent as she opened gloves and a suture tray. "Are you allergic to any drugs?"
"No."
"Lie back. I just need to clean this up a bit." As she set about her work, she continued, "Hapkido. Do you know it?"
"Some - I'm trained in jujitsu," Fate replied, wincing slightly at the sting of the novocaine injection. "Hapkido. That's Korean, isn't it?"
"Uh huh," Nanoha responded as she began placing the sutures. "It's a combination of Aikido and Tae Kwon Do. Fortunately for me, it also teaches the art of the cane."
"Well, it's certainly effective," Fate said flatly. "You'll have to show me sometime."
"If you like. There, that's it. I'll need to take these stitches out in five days." She pulled the stool over and sat down facing Fate. "What are you doing here?"
"I happened to be driving by and I saw your Jeep. The place was dark. I was worried. You're not supposed to be here alone, remember?"
Nanoha sighed, "I know. We ran so late I sent everyone home an hour ago. I had literally just finished and was heading out the door when I heard you. I am so sorry—"
"Please," Fate said, pushing herself up to a sitting position. Thankfully her head felt clear. "I'm glad to know you can take care of yourself so well. Let's just leave it at that, okay?"
Nanoha stood, reaching for an alcohol swab. When she cupped Fate's chin in one hand, Fate tensed.
"You've got blood on your neck," Nanoha said quietly, wiping the skin gently.
"Thank you," Fate murmured, her eyes meeting Nanoha's deep cobalt ones. She was acutely aware of the warmth in Nanoha's touch.
Nanoha stepped back quickly, averting her gaze as she quickly broke their contact. The withdrawal was so abrupt, Fate shivered involuntarily. Nanoha frowned. "You need to be in bed. Come on, I'll drive you home."
"I'm okay," Fate muttered, jumping down from the table. She swayed with a sudden wave of dizziness, and would have fallen if Nanoha hadn't slipped her arm quickly around her waist.
"Not quite, you're not. You may be strong, but you're not made of steel. You've had a nasty blow to your head and with that arm, you're not fit to drive. I mean it."
"I can't leave my truck on the road," Fate protested.
"I'll drive it. Come on."
"Go get into bed," Nanoha said when Fate led them into the living room of her new home. "I'll get some ice for your arm - kitchen through there?" she indicated with a nod of her head.
"Yes, but I can get it—"
Nanoha rounded on Fate, her eyes flashing. "Look Sheriff, you can save the butch routine for the bad guys. I know you can get it. The point is that I want you to lie down, so I'm going to get it."
Fate stared at her, an uncomprehending look on her face. "I'm not trying to be butch! I'm just used to doing things for myself."
Nanoha's features softened, and a smile curved her full lips. "Yes, I'll bet you are. But tonight you don't have to. Now go on—please."
Nanoha found her a few minutes later awkwardly trying to hang her gun belt and uniform in the closet. Her right arm was still uncoordinated and visibly swollen. She had managed to pull on a faded cotton T-shirt, USMC stenciled over her left chest. Her legs were bare below the hem of the shirt. Nanoha tried not to stare at the expanse of smooth skin and tightly muscled limbs, finally deciding she couldn't avoid looking at her unless she suddenly went blind. Taking the hanger from Fate's fumbling grasp, she said firmly, "Bed."
Nanoha folded the trousers carefully and hung them up in the precisely ordered closet. Shirts and pants were neatly segregated—dress clothes to the left, casual clothes to the right. She stared thoughtfully at the crisp Judo gis and the carefully folded hakamas on the top shelf. The mysterious sheriff was more than a casual martial artist.
Turning, Nanoha found Fate propped up in bed, her hands folded on the sheets that covered her to the waist. She was watching Nanoha carefully, her face inscrutable. Nanoha stared back at her, thinking that this woman spoke volumes with her silence.
"What?" Nanoha asked softly.
"I was watching you study my closet with such interest. Are you always so observant?"
"Occupational hazard. Being a doctor is a little like being a detective—you have to learn not to overlook the subtle details. How about you? Always so neat, ordered, and controlled?"
Fate laughed. "Yes. Fifteen years of the Marine Corp will do that for you. Although it might be hereditary. My father is career military."
"And your mother is an organizational systems manager?" Nanoha joked.
Fate grew suddenly still, her expression thoughtful. "No, my mother is an artist. I'm afraid I didn't inherit anything from her."
Nanoha saw the subject was clearly off limits and once again a vast distance settled between them. "Here," she said, approaching the bed with the plastic bag of ice in her hand, "hold out your arm." She wrapped a towel loosely around Fate's forearm, then applied the ice pack, securing it with another towel. "Keep this on as long as you can. If you have more pain during the night or the numbness worsens, call me. It's unlikely you'll have a problem, but I don't want to take any chances."
"What's your phone number?" Fate asked politely. She had no intention of taking up any more of this woman's time. The whole ridiculous situation was her fault to begin with. No one had ever taken her by surprise like that before.
"Just yell - I'll be on your couch."
Fate shot straight up in bed. "You are not staying here!"
"My Jeep is at the clinic, I'm tired, and I'm starting to get cranky. I intend to go to sleep - immediately. Don't worry, you won't even know I'm here."
"That's not the point!" Fate exclaimed. "You've already done too much for me!"
Nanoha raised an eyebrow. "And just how would you define "too much", Sheriff? Is any help at all too much? Just tell me where the sheets are—I'm beat."
Fate pointed to a military footlocker pushed under the windows. "Bedding's in there, Doctor. Military issue I'm afraid. I've only been a civilian a short time, and shopping has not been high on my list of priorities."
"It'll do for a night. Thanks," Nanoha said as she headed for the door. "Now lights out, please."
"Yes, ma'am," Fate sighed, realizing she had been out maneuvered in more ways than one that evening.
At five a.m. in May, sunrise was still a long way off. Fate stood in the dim light reflected from the kitchen, looking down at Nanoha Takamachi. She slept on her side, her arms wrapped around the pillow. Her long tousled hair framed a face soft and youthful in sleep. Her clothes were tossed over a nearby chair, her leg brace and cane leaning within arm's reach. Fate was captivated by how peaceful she appeared. Before Fate could move away, Nanoha rolled onto her back and opened her eyes, moving from sleep to full wakefulness almost instantaneously. She saw the curiosity in Fate's face before all expression fled.
"What?" Nanoha asked. "Is there something strange about the way I sleep?"
Fate contemplated her for a moment, aware that she was naked under the light covering. The curve of hip and the swell of breasts were outlined in light and shadow. Fate knew she was staring, and forced her eyes to Nanoha's face.
"You don't just sleep - you seem to embrace it, as if it were nourishing you." Her voice trailed off. She had no words to express how beautiful the woman had been. "I didn't mean to disturb you," she finished awkwardly.
Nanoha sat up, holding the sheet to her chest with one arm. With the other she brushed her hair back from her face. "I think I felt you in my sleep, but it didn't disturb me." She looked at Fate uncertainly. She knew Fate hadn't touched her, but her skin tingled with the sense of a lingering caress. Abruptly she swung her legs to the floor. This was getting ridiculous. Too much turmoil in the last twenty-four hours had her imagining things.
"I need to be up anyhow," Nanoha said more sharply than she intended.
"Right. I'll let you get dressed," Fate said, turning away, nonplussed by the abrupt change. "Coffee?" She asked as she retreated quickly to the kitchen.
"Please," Nanoha called after her. She joined Fate in the kitchen a few moments later, looking around her in surprise. The room, newly renovated, was modern and equipped with professional appliances. "What a great kitchen! You must cook a lot!"
Fate grinned, ducking her head shyly. "A secret vice." She handed Nanoha a steaming cup of freshly ground French Roast.
"However did that happen? Weren't you forced to eat in the mess hall or something?"
Fate laughed, warming Nanoha with the rich timber of her voice. Nanoha relaxed, leaning against the large center cook-island that dominated the space. She sipped her coffee as she examined Fate in the bright morning light. She was in uniform again, the creases in her sleeves and trousers razor sharp, her tie knotted square under a crisp collar. The surface of her shoes sparkled with a flawless shine. She seemed flawless, too. Her waist-length blonde hair was tied back neatly with a thin black ribbon at the nape. The full front fell rather dashingly over clear burgundy eyes, a straight nose, and strong chin. She was handsome and beautiful at the same time, and warning bells began clashing in Nanoha's brain. Women this good-looking generally knew it, and that always spelled trouble. The years had not quite erased the pain left behind by someone nearly as heart-stopping as this. She forced herself to concentrate on what Fate was saying, reminding herself she would never make that mistake again.
"I lived mostly off base. Learning to cook gave me something to do, since I've always lived alone."
"Always?" Nanoha asked. It was hard to believe that a woman with her appeal wasn't attached.
"Yes, always," Fate replied quietly.
Once again Nanoha sensed a door closing as a distant look settled in Fate's eyes.
"How is your arm?" Nanoha asked, retreating to neutral ground.
"Stiff, but the sensation has returned."
"Can you handle your weapon?"
Fate looked surprised. "I think so."
Nanoha shook her head. "You have to be able to or you can't work. Seriously, Sheriff—"
Fate held up a hand. "Please, call me Fate. You can't keep calling me 'Sheriff' in my own kitchen."
Nanoha laughed. "And I'm Nanoha. Now, draw your weapon."
Fate studied her for a second, recognizing the solemn set to her features. She reached behind her with her right hand to set the coffee cup on the counter. In the next instant, she had pivoted away from Nanoha, her revolver in both hands, crouched in a shooting stance. The tailored uniform stretched taut against coiled muscles, the gun unwavering.
Nanoha caught her breath, surprised by Fate's speed and grace. "You pass," Nanoha said lightly, aware that her throat was dry and her pulse racing. She had to admit the combination of physical beauty and controlled power was a compelling image.
Fate straightened, holstering her revolver. She smiled faintly and saluted Nanoha casually. "Thank you, ma'am."
Fate wasn't sure why Nanoha was staring at her so curiously, but she liked the way she laughed. For some reason, the laughter made her happy.
Note: That's it for today, thanks for reading! Excuse the cramped formatting, I'm not sure why my html edits aren't being saved.