Chapter 13
**********
Leon Kennedy lightly touched the tiny plastic command wolf that was
now occupying pride of place on his desk. He had no pictures of her,
because she felt she didn't photograph well. He could understand why she
might feel that way. Trying to keep a picture of her would be like
trying to trap her in a cage. She wasn't meant to be caged.
He smiled at that thought. The only cage she'd ever allowed herself
to be locked in was his embrace. He remembered the first day...
~~~~~
)|(Officer Leon Kennedy was glad he wasn't on duty. He wouldn't have
looked too good heading into the precinct wearing the dripping remains
of an iced coffee.
"Oh, mou. I'm so sorry!"
He found himself looking down at a red head, bright as blood. She was
mopping up the rest of the spilled drink, wearing a white apron over a
black skirt so short it might as well have been a lampshade. He
figured as long as she didn't bend directly from the waist she'd be okay, but
he had a feeling this hadn't been the first klutz attack of the
evening.
She raised her face to look at him. "I'm really sorry." Her eyes
were green, a pair of pale jewels opened and closed in her eyes. A blush
stained her skin, which looked even paler beneath the harsh lights.
Short red hair was escaping from a clip at the back of her neck, pieces
falling to frame her face.
He smiled reassuringly at her. "Hey. I knew this outfit needed
something more," he joked. "Iced coffee is perfect."
She bit her lip. "Is it what you ordered?" she asked in a tiny
hopeful voice.
He couldn't help laughing as he shook his head. "Not even close."
"Damn." She smacked her hands down against the floor, but returned his
smile. "God, let me clean you up."
"Oh, no--Dorothy!" a voice cried from the other end of the room.
"I've got it, Naomi, really!" the redhead said quickly, cheerily, as
if she'd been saying it all night.
The girl named Naomi rushed over, brushing brown hair out of her eyes.
"I'm sorry, sir. Your order's on the house." She turned to the
redhead. "Take your break."
"No, Naomi, I can--"
"Take your break," the brunette repeated, adding, "PLEASE," in a
pleading tone.
The redhead blanched. "Okay."
Leon sighed, brushing at the stain on his arm. It wasn't too bad.
She'd gotten most of it on the table and floor.
Giving the tiled floor one last swipe, she sighed. "Listen, I'm
really sorry."
"No big deal," he assured her. "I take it I'm not your first casualty
of the night."
She blushed and smiled, shaking her head. "No."
He motioned to the empty seat across from him. "Want to have a seat?
She did say you're on break now, right?"
The redhead laughed and sat down. "Yes, and if she has her way it'll
be permanent."
Leon smiled. "What's the death toll so far?"
She sighed. "Three broken glasses, five screwed-up orders, one ruined
apron, and one drenched customer." She motioned to him.
"It could have been worse. You could have spilled something hot on
me." He smiled. "Dorothy, right? My name's Leon. It's nice to meet you."
He offered her his hand, and she shook it. He felt the strength of her
grip, the cool band of the claddagh ring on her finger.
She reached for a napkin, swiping absently at his sleeve. "I'm such a
total klutz."
"It could have happened to anybody," Leon argued.
"No, I was moving too fast, carrying too much. I just...don't know my
own strength, I guess." She laughed nervously.
"Hey, don't worry about it." Leon smiled.
Someone was motioning from across the room. "Uh oh. I'm being paged.
I've got to go." She stood up, shaking her hair back. "I'm sorry I
spilled that coffee on you, again."
"I'm starting to become glad you did," Leon told her with a smile.
She blushed, winked, then turned and she was gone.)|(
~~~~~
He may have been the first man to trap her in his embrace, but he
certainly wasn't the last. A frown slashed Leon's features as he thought
of Roger Smith. What, the young cop wondered, does he have that I don't
have?
What was so great about him? He forced Dorothy to wear black, to follow
rules that didn't make sense, and she didn't even have his undivided
attention--there was that other woman, Kirei. She was a mystery, too.
Leon knew he could have held onto Dorothy, but he'd screwed everything
up. Now the rain was spreading all over the parade. He felt a fierce
anger towards the negotiator, for the black clothes, for the
helplessness in Dorothy's eyes when he'd mentioned the flowers. That pain had
never been there before...
(Oh, Dorothy,) Leon thought. (I remember those days, but I didn't
understand. I miss her, and her sweet smile and her springtime eyes. I
never loved her enough. She was special...)
Special, he remembered, in more ways than one. He remembered the next
time he'd seen her, when he first realized just how "special" she
was...
~~~~~
)|(His shift started at nine, but he figured he'd have time for a
coffee. He told himself it was because he needed caffeine, not because a
certain somebody might spill coffee on his uniform.
She was very careful as she brought him an iced coffee, smiling
secretly at him. A black headband winked beneath the overhead lights; her
red hair swung merrily in a ponytail behind her.
"Thanks," he said, grinning. "It's just what I ordered."
"Can I sit down?" she asked.
"Sure. On break again?" He motioned to the chair across from him.
She laughed. "Yes, and this time for good. They're 'letting me go',"
she said, using her fingers for quotation marks. He laughed.
"You were my last order ever. Feel special," she said.
"I do," he assured her, smiling.
"So, Officer...Kennedy," she said. She leaned forward to read his
nameplate, ponytail shimmering in the overhead light. "You didn't tell me
you were a police officer."
"You didn't ask." He sipped his coffee. "Why, does that bother you?"
"No!" she said quickly. "No. I was just trying to make
conversation." She blushed a little, something he found charming.
"You just get off-duty?" she asked.
He looked at his watch. "No, I'm about to get on. My shift starts at
nine."
"Oh, I'd better let you go, then." She smiled and got up. "You have a
nice night, now."
"Wait," he said. "If you're not working here anymore, how will I ever
see you again?"
She smiled, cocking her head. "Officer Kennedy, are you asking me out
on a date?"
"No," he said, smiling secretly. "Not a date. Maybe, you know,
coffee."
"Coffee?" she laughed. "I think we've both had enough coffee to last
us the rest of our lives!"
He laughed along with her. "So no coffee. How about dinner, then?"
She smiled softly back, picking up a napkin from the table and leaning
over to write her phone number on it. "I'd like that. Here's my
number--"
As she was leaning over to write it, a passing patron gave her a
not-so-friendly pat on the behind.
"Hey!" she whirled. "Jerk."
"Just saying goodbye to you, Dorothy," the man said, leering.
"Back off," Leon said, rising from his chair.
He put up his hands in an I-mean-no-harm gesture, but made kissing
noises at Dorothy.
She raised a hand to slap him, but he caught her wrist and yanked her
toward him. She broke his grip and jumped back.
Feeling a surge of testosterone, Leon tackled the man, sending them
both to the floor. He was on top, poised to knock the guy out, then
suddenly he was airborne, falling from less than ten feet to smack against
the wall, seeing stars.
"Leon!" Dorothy's voice came from underwater and far away. Leon
blinked to see her leap for the man. She did not fight like a girl; she
swung with closed fist, but the man was simply too fast.
Suddenly he seized her and lifted, lifted. Leon could see the hand
that held her, something twisted and bestial, a claw. She was swinging
at him with one hand, going for the eyes, but he used his free hand to
smash her arm away. A choked cry came from her, but there was more rage
than fear in her eyes.
The shot was far too loud in the tiny coffee shop, and it was only
after he fired that Leon registered the screams of the other patrons, the
approaching sirens.
The man stumbled, flinging Dorothy down to crumple in a heap on the
floor. She wasn't moving. Blood pooled beneath her; her arm was torn
wide open. Her bright tail of hair gleamed against the floor, the color
of the blood spreading outward from her still form.
He didn't go down. Leon blinked.
Dorothy was unconscious, she had been since he'd clawed her...
(Virus!...)
No, she was still alive. There was still a chance...
It all went through his head in the space of a second. Leon found he
could stand, and moved in front of the fallen redhead, shielding her.
He emptied a clip into the--well, the "man" seemed an inappropriate
term--but it did little good.
The man turned black eyes to Leon. Something slid behind those eyes,
not human.
"Stay away from her," Leon heard himself say.
He'd only met the unconscious girl at his feet once before, and now he
was prepared to die for her. It occurred to him that it should have
felt odd, but it didn't. He was prepared.
Suddenly the tiny coffee shop was a cacophony of sound--men in
uniforms were running back and forth, guns drawn, shouting things. Someone
was restraining the man, who was shouting epithets.
Leon had eyes only for the redhead. She was very, very still as he
knelt at her side. How small she looked, lying in a pool of her own
congealing blood.
(Oh, please be okay, baby--)
"Don't move her, Kennedy!" someone was yelling. "Don't move her yet!
Don't move her!"
Leon gently touched her cheek, just beneath her closed eye. Blood
from the puncture marks on her neck--he remembered those claws, lifting,
lifting--had spilled onto her white shirt in a line of spots and bigger
spots. He could read the writing on the shirt through the stain:
"Material Girl".
(You tried to protect me...)
He'd had the gun. Why hadn't he shot sooner? For all the good it did.
(Looks like we might not get that dinner date after all...) he
thought, then shook his head violently. (No, don't think that...)
What was that man? Why...?
She was breathing shallowly, chest rising and falling. She was alive,
but for how long?
"Dorothy..."
Then there were reaching hands, taking her away, pushing him aside.
"No...wait...tell them he's a shapeshifter...tell them she needs the
vaccine..."
"One, two, three," an EMT counted out, and they lifted her into the
waiting ambulance. She'd never looked more fragile.)|(
~~~~~
"...And I hope I've interested someone today. Thank you!" Stephanie
bowed slightly and went back to her seat.
Dorothy had already given her speech the week before; now she just had
to be an "active listener" for the rest of the speeches. Of course, it
was hard to be an active listener when a certain man was policing her
thoughts, no pun intended. Damn, he was persistent.
She smiled unconsciously. Of course, if he hadn't been persistent,
she might never have seen him again...
~~~~~
)|(The doctor seemed very curious about her headband.
The whir of the disk drive was very comforting to her as it opened.
She nimbly avoided any and all attempts Doctor Parrish made to further
examine the drive.
She wished briefly to be a child again, to have protection of the law,
to be taken care of. But she was now legally an adult and as such was
going to have to do all of this herself.
"I can see why you can take so much damage, but you must understand
how lucky you were," Parrish admonished.
"That's what they said when I woke up last time too," she said wryly,
pointing to her headband, "and now I've got THIS. Tell me again about
'lucky', Doctor."
He frowned. "You're not out of the woods yet. Your android body
might have been able to stand up to the claw marks, but your blood is still
human and therefore susceptible to the contagion. The officer you were
with informed the EMTs of the nature of the suspect, but they were not
aware before arriving on the scene and therefore had no supplies on
hand to treat the infection. By the time we got you stabilized, it seemed
an empty gesture..."
"Why do you say that?" she asked sharply.
"This long after infection, we're not even sure it would work," he
said in a voice that managed to be gentle and matter-of-fact at the same
time. He had placed one hand over hers, but instead of feeling
comforting, it felt like a hot leaden weight. It was his touch, not his words,
that she was paying attention to.
"Well, can I have it anyway? Are you saying I shouldn't have the
inoculation?" The haze in her head was making hard to concentrate.
"If you wish to have the inoculation, we will administer it. However,
I must warn you, if you are not already infected, the inoculation will
give you the disease."
She mulled it over, not an easy thing when Macy's annual Tap-O-Mania
was practicing in her head. "Then no, I don't want it. If I've got it,
I've got it." There, that sounded very calm and mature. She felt
immediately better, and proud of herself.
"As you wish," Parrish said.
"You'd better rest. Someone will be in to check your vitals in a
minute."
"Thank you, Doctor." She looked down at her hands. "Umm...Doctor?"
He turned at the door.
"You don't happen to know what happened to the police officer with
me...?"
Parrish graced her with a smile. "He's here. He wanted to see you
earlier, but I told him you needed to rest. He's chomping at the bit and
pacing up and down like an expectant father."
Her throat already felt like she'd swallowed gravel, and now her voice
was squeaky with shyness. "Can I see him? Can you...can someone tell
him I asked for him?"
"Will do. Get some rest." He didn't look back.
Leon had an iced coffee in one hand. The other was fixed in a sling.
Dorothy tried to smile, but it was hard with the pain it caused the
bruised side of her face. "Hi. What's that you've got there?"
He smiled a little. "The doctor says I can't take you out for iced
coffee yet, so I brought the iced coffee to you."
"Coffee?" She blinked.
"Yeah. Want some?" He sat on the edge of her bed.
She blinked again. "Your arm..." She reached out to him, tracing
along the sling gently. "I'm sorry. I tried to stop him..."
He cupped her bruised cheek gently. "I'm the police officer. It's my
job to protect you, and I failed."
"I'm still here," she said softly.
"Yes," he said. "Yes, you are." He smiled and reached to touch her
headband. "Bet you're the only kid on the block who has one of these."
She blushed miserably. "I should have told you. I'm sorry."
"Don't be. I'm the one who's sorry. I'm supposed to be protecting
you," he repeated.
"No. I knew what he was. He'd come into the shop before. I put you
in danger. I didn't mean to..." She looked away.
He cupped her cheek in his hand. "We're both okay. That's all that
matters."
She blinked tear-bright eyes at him. "Thanks for coming to see me."
He grinned. "Wild werewolves couldn't keep me away."
She smiled back. "Silly."
"So," he said. "After all this hospital food, I'll have to take you
out someplace really nice for dinner."
She blinked in surprise. "You still want to go out with me?"
He seemed surprised himself. "Yes. Why not?"
She opened her mouth to give him a hundred reasons, but stuck to the
simplest one. "Because I almost got you killed?"
"Said the girl in the hospital bed, to the guy who's pretty much
fine," Leon laughed.
She giggled. "You're crazy."
"Well, maybe a little." He grinned at her, offering her his cast.
"I've got a pen. Want to try again?"
"Okay, but YOU keep your hands off my ass till I say it's okay." She
smirked.
"Yes ma'am." He smirked as she signed his cast, writing down her name
and number with a flourish.
The months to follow would be the happiest of his life.)|(
~~~~~
The good days. The so-good days, when she had sundresses in every
color and Leon would buy her a vanilla milkshake just to make her smile.
The evenings when she would worry about him, and she would always
worry, even though he was the ultimate cop. When he shrugged out of his
shoulder holster, she'd watch the careless grace of his movements, then
carefully remove the Beretta and examine it, as if she could will it to
protect him. It seemed strange to pray that Leon's aim would always be
true when she prayed so hard that the shots aimed at him would never
strike home.
She remembered how strong his arms always were around her; he would
hold her hard, as if he were trying to prove he could keep her safe. How
she always felt safe waking up in those strong arms. She remembered
how young he looked when he slept, how peaceful his face always was.
She frowned at the memories. Why were they flooding her now?
Obviously, no matter how sweet Leon's kisses, no matter how strong his arms,
how lazy and free the days were, it hadn't been enough. Even if it had
been enough, something had interfered. Something had gone wrong, or she
wouldn't be with Roger now. She and Leon would still be together.
(Roger...oh, my God.) She stopped short in the hallway, frozen with
guilt and fear. (I owe Roger such an apology. He must be so fed up with
me. Why do I feel this way? Why is it when Leon's near I get so
confused? I want to just fall into his arms and let him kiss everything
away...but when he's gone I come to my senses. Why? What's wrong with me?)
"Excuse me!" a girl said, bumping into her from behind. Stopping
short in the hallway probably wasn't such a good idea.
"Sorry...sorry," Dorothy said, moving out of the way.
"It's okay," the girl said, smiling and swinging long blonde hair as
she continued down the hall. The heels on her slides went click, click,
click...
~~~~~
)|("We have got to stop meeting like this," Dorothy said, trying to
joke. Great. First weekend back and this was what she got?
Leon chuckled. He looked great, too--insult to injury.
"Which one are you headed to?" Leon asked, indicating the movie
marquees on the side of the building.
"Oh--I'm making a stand," she laughed. "What about you? You here
alone?"
His face fell. "Um...well..."
Click, click, click...the sound made Dorothy look up from the ticket
window. A dark-haired woman in a pink minidress was stalking towards
them on her high heels.
"Who's your friend, Leon?"
Dorothy wondered what it was like to have a voice like cream soda. It
brushed against her like fur. She could only imagine the effect it had
on Leon, who was actually looking decidedly uncomfortable.
The dark-haired woman smiled, looking Dorothy up and down confidently.
She seemed to loom over Dorothy in her pink high heels. Dorothy felt
even shorter and her hair seemed to be not bright as blood but a dull
unattractive orange. She was suddenly regretting wearing knee boots and a
leather miniskirt. Her leather jacket read "Angels Motorcycles" with a
rhinestone halo over the "A". She felt about twelve years old.
"You didn't introduce me," the dark-haired woman purred to Leon,
fixing a wry smile on him.
He managed to look even more uncomfortable. "Of course. Ada, this is
Dorothy Wayneright. Dorothy, this is Ada Wong."
"It's nice to meet you," Dorothy said cheerfully, her voice sounding
thin even to her own ears as she extended her hand to the taller woman.
Each had a firm grip; each tried to squeeze harder than the other.
"Are you all by yourself, sweetheart?" Ada's tone was sugary sweet.
The endearment hurt the worst.
"No, I--I'm making a stand," she repeated, trying to muster up the old
cheerfulness. "In fact, my show's about to start. What are you two
going to see?"
Ada smiled. "We're seeing 'The Sweetest Thing'."
Dorothy turned to Leon. She couldn't resist. "You hate romantic
comedies."
He looked slightly alarmed as he lied, "...No, I don't."
Ada shot her a brief, squinty smile. Its meaning was clear
"Well, I'd better go. It was nice to meet you," Dorothy said to Ada,
hastily smiling and shaking the taller woman's hand again. "It was
great to see you again, Leon. Give me a call, we can get together." There,
that was good. That was mature. She felt slightly better, even
listening to the click-click of Ada's heels as they went their separate ways.
"Enjoy the show," Dorothy called, unsure if she was saying it to Leon
and Ada, or to the group of people who'd been watching their exchange.
It wasn't until she was securely settled in the theater, watching
zombies tear apart a group of special ops, that she remembered curling up
on a bed watching "Run Lola Run". Leon had fallen asleep before the
end, cuddled up against her. She hadn't had the heart to wake him, simply
stroked his hair back while reading the final subtitles, feeling his
soft breath on her neck.
A tear snaked down past her nose. She hastily brushed it aside.
Onscreen, a special operative sagged in the arms of her comrades. She
gave the audience a tired smile. " 'You know what? When I get out of
here, I think I'm gonna get laid.' "
The operative holding her left arm wrinkled his nose. " 'You might
want to clean up first.' "
Dorothy found herself rooting for the Red Queen. Not everything Alice
had found through the looking glass had been pleasant.)|(
~~~~~
It was memories like those that shocked her back to her senses,
although it was arguable that she might not have been so depressed had she
not been listening to the Duncan Sheik song that shared her viewpoint. It
wasn't exactly a hyper ballad.
She wanted to tell Roger the truth. But she couldn't. If he knew
she'd seen Leon, how close they'd been, he'd freak. If she confessed the
doubts she had, he'd be so angry. He'd throw her out; she'd lose him.
She'd lose him and Snowy, and the big house and the wonderful feeling
of belonging, the sweet aching fullness of her heart when he kissed
her...
She just couldn't tell him. If what she felt for Roger wasn't the
same as what she felt for Leon--not that she was sure what THAT was
anymore--she never wanted Roger to know. She loved Roger, would never hurt
him.
(Maybe he doesn't love me after all,) she thought. (Would my betrayal
really hurt him that much? Maybe I'm flattering myself. How will I
know?)
She headed home. These days it seemed to take so long to get there.
~~~~~
Roger sighed, turning over an hourglass. He'd found what was
bothering him, finally. It gave him a sense of order and right to see the
pieces fit.
The ticket--SOMETHING had been bothering him about the ticket, and he
had finally realized what--the handwriting on the ticket matched the
handwriting on the card that had come with those damned roses.
Come to think of it, Dorothy had been acting strange since going to pay
for the ticket...
Roger tented his fingers. He would not think the worst of his Dorothy.
It could be nothing. There had to be a logical explanation for this.
The negotiator reached for the phone.
Roger shook his head as he realized he was seeing more of Dastun than
ever he did while on the force. How ironic.
**********
Leon Kennedy lightly touched the tiny plastic command wolf that was
now occupying pride of place on his desk. He had no pictures of her,
because she felt she didn't photograph well. He could understand why she
might feel that way. Trying to keep a picture of her would be like
trying to trap her in a cage. She wasn't meant to be caged.
He smiled at that thought. The only cage she'd ever allowed herself
to be locked in was his embrace. He remembered the first day...
~~~~~
)|(Officer Leon Kennedy was glad he wasn't on duty. He wouldn't have
looked too good heading into the precinct wearing the dripping remains
of an iced coffee.
"Oh, mou. I'm so sorry!"
He found himself looking down at a red head, bright as blood. She was
mopping up the rest of the spilled drink, wearing a white apron over a
black skirt so short it might as well have been a lampshade. He
figured as long as she didn't bend directly from the waist she'd be okay, but
he had a feeling this hadn't been the first klutz attack of the
evening.
She raised her face to look at him. "I'm really sorry." Her eyes
were green, a pair of pale jewels opened and closed in her eyes. A blush
stained her skin, which looked even paler beneath the harsh lights.
Short red hair was escaping from a clip at the back of her neck, pieces
falling to frame her face.
He smiled reassuringly at her. "Hey. I knew this outfit needed
something more," he joked. "Iced coffee is perfect."
She bit her lip. "Is it what you ordered?" she asked in a tiny
hopeful voice.
He couldn't help laughing as he shook his head. "Not even close."
"Damn." She smacked her hands down against the floor, but returned his
smile. "God, let me clean you up."
"Oh, no--Dorothy!" a voice cried from the other end of the room.
"I've got it, Naomi, really!" the redhead said quickly, cheerily, as
if she'd been saying it all night.
The girl named Naomi rushed over, brushing brown hair out of her eyes.
"I'm sorry, sir. Your order's on the house." She turned to the
redhead. "Take your break."
"No, Naomi, I can--"
"Take your break," the brunette repeated, adding, "PLEASE," in a
pleading tone.
The redhead blanched. "Okay."
Leon sighed, brushing at the stain on his arm. It wasn't too bad.
She'd gotten most of it on the table and floor.
Giving the tiled floor one last swipe, she sighed. "Listen, I'm
really sorry."
"No big deal," he assured her. "I take it I'm not your first casualty
of the night."
She blushed and smiled, shaking her head. "No."
He motioned to the empty seat across from him. "Want to have a seat?
She did say you're on break now, right?"
The redhead laughed and sat down. "Yes, and if she has her way it'll
be permanent."
Leon smiled. "What's the death toll so far?"
She sighed. "Three broken glasses, five screwed-up orders, one ruined
apron, and one drenched customer." She motioned to him.
"It could have been worse. You could have spilled something hot on
me." He smiled. "Dorothy, right? My name's Leon. It's nice to meet you."
He offered her his hand, and she shook it. He felt the strength of her
grip, the cool band of the claddagh ring on her finger.
She reached for a napkin, swiping absently at his sleeve. "I'm such a
total klutz."
"It could have happened to anybody," Leon argued.
"No, I was moving too fast, carrying too much. I just...don't know my
own strength, I guess." She laughed nervously.
"Hey, don't worry about it." Leon smiled.
Someone was motioning from across the room. "Uh oh. I'm being paged.
I've got to go." She stood up, shaking her hair back. "I'm sorry I
spilled that coffee on you, again."
"I'm starting to become glad you did," Leon told her with a smile.
She blushed, winked, then turned and she was gone.)|(
~~~~~
He may have been the first man to trap her in his embrace, but he
certainly wasn't the last. A frown slashed Leon's features as he thought
of Roger Smith. What, the young cop wondered, does he have that I don't
have?
What was so great about him? He forced Dorothy to wear black, to follow
rules that didn't make sense, and she didn't even have his undivided
attention--there was that other woman, Kirei. She was a mystery, too.
Leon knew he could have held onto Dorothy, but he'd screwed everything
up. Now the rain was spreading all over the parade. He felt a fierce
anger towards the negotiator, for the black clothes, for the
helplessness in Dorothy's eyes when he'd mentioned the flowers. That pain had
never been there before...
(Oh, Dorothy,) Leon thought. (I remember those days, but I didn't
understand. I miss her, and her sweet smile and her springtime eyes. I
never loved her enough. She was special...)
Special, he remembered, in more ways than one. He remembered the next
time he'd seen her, when he first realized just how "special" she
was...
~~~~~
)|(His shift started at nine, but he figured he'd have time for a
coffee. He told himself it was because he needed caffeine, not because a
certain somebody might spill coffee on his uniform.
She was very careful as she brought him an iced coffee, smiling
secretly at him. A black headband winked beneath the overhead lights; her
red hair swung merrily in a ponytail behind her.
"Thanks," he said, grinning. "It's just what I ordered."
"Can I sit down?" she asked.
"Sure. On break again?" He motioned to the chair across from him.
She laughed. "Yes, and this time for good. They're 'letting me go',"
she said, using her fingers for quotation marks. He laughed.
"You were my last order ever. Feel special," she said.
"I do," he assured her, smiling.
"So, Officer...Kennedy," she said. She leaned forward to read his
nameplate, ponytail shimmering in the overhead light. "You didn't tell me
you were a police officer."
"You didn't ask." He sipped his coffee. "Why, does that bother you?"
"No!" she said quickly. "No. I was just trying to make
conversation." She blushed a little, something he found charming.
"You just get off-duty?" she asked.
He looked at his watch. "No, I'm about to get on. My shift starts at
nine."
"Oh, I'd better let you go, then." She smiled and got up. "You have a
nice night, now."
"Wait," he said. "If you're not working here anymore, how will I ever
see you again?"
She smiled, cocking her head. "Officer Kennedy, are you asking me out
on a date?"
"No," he said, smiling secretly. "Not a date. Maybe, you know,
coffee."
"Coffee?" she laughed. "I think we've both had enough coffee to last
us the rest of our lives!"
He laughed along with her. "So no coffee. How about dinner, then?"
She smiled softly back, picking up a napkin from the table and leaning
over to write her phone number on it. "I'd like that. Here's my
number--"
As she was leaning over to write it, a passing patron gave her a
not-so-friendly pat on the behind.
"Hey!" she whirled. "Jerk."
"Just saying goodbye to you, Dorothy," the man said, leering.
"Back off," Leon said, rising from his chair.
He put up his hands in an I-mean-no-harm gesture, but made kissing
noises at Dorothy.
She raised a hand to slap him, but he caught her wrist and yanked her
toward him. She broke his grip and jumped back.
Feeling a surge of testosterone, Leon tackled the man, sending them
both to the floor. He was on top, poised to knock the guy out, then
suddenly he was airborne, falling from less than ten feet to smack against
the wall, seeing stars.
"Leon!" Dorothy's voice came from underwater and far away. Leon
blinked to see her leap for the man. She did not fight like a girl; she
swung with closed fist, but the man was simply too fast.
Suddenly he seized her and lifted, lifted. Leon could see the hand
that held her, something twisted and bestial, a claw. She was swinging
at him with one hand, going for the eyes, but he used his free hand to
smash her arm away. A choked cry came from her, but there was more rage
than fear in her eyes.
The shot was far too loud in the tiny coffee shop, and it was only
after he fired that Leon registered the screams of the other patrons, the
approaching sirens.
The man stumbled, flinging Dorothy down to crumple in a heap on the
floor. She wasn't moving. Blood pooled beneath her; her arm was torn
wide open. Her bright tail of hair gleamed against the floor, the color
of the blood spreading outward from her still form.
He didn't go down. Leon blinked.
Dorothy was unconscious, she had been since he'd clawed her...
(Virus!...)
No, she was still alive. There was still a chance...
It all went through his head in the space of a second. Leon found he
could stand, and moved in front of the fallen redhead, shielding her.
He emptied a clip into the--well, the "man" seemed an inappropriate
term--but it did little good.
The man turned black eyes to Leon. Something slid behind those eyes,
not human.
"Stay away from her," Leon heard himself say.
He'd only met the unconscious girl at his feet once before, and now he
was prepared to die for her. It occurred to him that it should have
felt odd, but it didn't. He was prepared.
Suddenly the tiny coffee shop was a cacophony of sound--men in
uniforms were running back and forth, guns drawn, shouting things. Someone
was restraining the man, who was shouting epithets.
Leon had eyes only for the redhead. She was very, very still as he
knelt at her side. How small she looked, lying in a pool of her own
congealing blood.
(Oh, please be okay, baby--)
"Don't move her, Kennedy!" someone was yelling. "Don't move her yet!
Don't move her!"
Leon gently touched her cheek, just beneath her closed eye. Blood
from the puncture marks on her neck--he remembered those claws, lifting,
lifting--had spilled onto her white shirt in a line of spots and bigger
spots. He could read the writing on the shirt through the stain:
"Material Girl".
(You tried to protect me...)
He'd had the gun. Why hadn't he shot sooner? For all the good it did.
(Looks like we might not get that dinner date after all...) he
thought, then shook his head violently. (No, don't think that...)
What was that man? Why...?
She was breathing shallowly, chest rising and falling. She was alive,
but for how long?
"Dorothy..."
Then there were reaching hands, taking her away, pushing him aside.
"No...wait...tell them he's a shapeshifter...tell them she needs the
vaccine..."
"One, two, three," an EMT counted out, and they lifted her into the
waiting ambulance. She'd never looked more fragile.)|(
~~~~~
"...And I hope I've interested someone today. Thank you!" Stephanie
bowed slightly and went back to her seat.
Dorothy had already given her speech the week before; now she just had
to be an "active listener" for the rest of the speeches. Of course, it
was hard to be an active listener when a certain man was policing her
thoughts, no pun intended. Damn, he was persistent.
She smiled unconsciously. Of course, if he hadn't been persistent,
she might never have seen him again...
~~~~~
)|(The doctor seemed very curious about her headband.
The whir of the disk drive was very comforting to her as it opened.
She nimbly avoided any and all attempts Doctor Parrish made to further
examine the drive.
She wished briefly to be a child again, to have protection of the law,
to be taken care of. But she was now legally an adult and as such was
going to have to do all of this herself.
"I can see why you can take so much damage, but you must understand
how lucky you were," Parrish admonished.
"That's what they said when I woke up last time too," she said wryly,
pointing to her headband, "and now I've got THIS. Tell me again about
'lucky', Doctor."
He frowned. "You're not out of the woods yet. Your android body
might have been able to stand up to the claw marks, but your blood is still
human and therefore susceptible to the contagion. The officer you were
with informed the EMTs of the nature of the suspect, but they were not
aware before arriving on the scene and therefore had no supplies on
hand to treat the infection. By the time we got you stabilized, it seemed
an empty gesture..."
"Why do you say that?" she asked sharply.
"This long after infection, we're not even sure it would work," he
said in a voice that managed to be gentle and matter-of-fact at the same
time. He had placed one hand over hers, but instead of feeling
comforting, it felt like a hot leaden weight. It was his touch, not his words,
that she was paying attention to.
"Well, can I have it anyway? Are you saying I shouldn't have the
inoculation?" The haze in her head was making hard to concentrate.
"If you wish to have the inoculation, we will administer it. However,
I must warn you, if you are not already infected, the inoculation will
give you the disease."
She mulled it over, not an easy thing when Macy's annual Tap-O-Mania
was practicing in her head. "Then no, I don't want it. If I've got it,
I've got it." There, that sounded very calm and mature. She felt
immediately better, and proud of herself.
"As you wish," Parrish said.
"You'd better rest. Someone will be in to check your vitals in a
minute."
"Thank you, Doctor." She looked down at her hands. "Umm...Doctor?"
He turned at the door.
"You don't happen to know what happened to the police officer with
me...?"
Parrish graced her with a smile. "He's here. He wanted to see you
earlier, but I told him you needed to rest. He's chomping at the bit and
pacing up and down like an expectant father."
Her throat already felt like she'd swallowed gravel, and now her voice
was squeaky with shyness. "Can I see him? Can you...can someone tell
him I asked for him?"
"Will do. Get some rest." He didn't look back.
Leon had an iced coffee in one hand. The other was fixed in a sling.
Dorothy tried to smile, but it was hard with the pain it caused the
bruised side of her face. "Hi. What's that you've got there?"
He smiled a little. "The doctor says I can't take you out for iced
coffee yet, so I brought the iced coffee to you."
"Coffee?" She blinked.
"Yeah. Want some?" He sat on the edge of her bed.
She blinked again. "Your arm..." She reached out to him, tracing
along the sling gently. "I'm sorry. I tried to stop him..."
He cupped her bruised cheek gently. "I'm the police officer. It's my
job to protect you, and I failed."
"I'm still here," she said softly.
"Yes," he said. "Yes, you are." He smiled and reached to touch her
headband. "Bet you're the only kid on the block who has one of these."
She blushed miserably. "I should have told you. I'm sorry."
"Don't be. I'm the one who's sorry. I'm supposed to be protecting
you," he repeated.
"No. I knew what he was. He'd come into the shop before. I put you
in danger. I didn't mean to..." She looked away.
He cupped her cheek in his hand. "We're both okay. That's all that
matters."
She blinked tear-bright eyes at him. "Thanks for coming to see me."
He grinned. "Wild werewolves couldn't keep me away."
She smiled back. "Silly."
"So," he said. "After all this hospital food, I'll have to take you
out someplace really nice for dinner."
She blinked in surprise. "You still want to go out with me?"
He seemed surprised himself. "Yes. Why not?"
She opened her mouth to give him a hundred reasons, but stuck to the
simplest one. "Because I almost got you killed?"
"Said the girl in the hospital bed, to the guy who's pretty much
fine," Leon laughed.
She giggled. "You're crazy."
"Well, maybe a little." He grinned at her, offering her his cast.
"I've got a pen. Want to try again?"
"Okay, but YOU keep your hands off my ass till I say it's okay." She
smirked.
"Yes ma'am." He smirked as she signed his cast, writing down her name
and number with a flourish.
The months to follow would be the happiest of his life.)|(
~~~~~
The good days. The so-good days, when she had sundresses in every
color and Leon would buy her a vanilla milkshake just to make her smile.
The evenings when she would worry about him, and she would always
worry, even though he was the ultimate cop. When he shrugged out of his
shoulder holster, she'd watch the careless grace of his movements, then
carefully remove the Beretta and examine it, as if she could will it to
protect him. It seemed strange to pray that Leon's aim would always be
true when she prayed so hard that the shots aimed at him would never
strike home.
She remembered how strong his arms always were around her; he would
hold her hard, as if he were trying to prove he could keep her safe. How
she always felt safe waking up in those strong arms. She remembered
how young he looked when he slept, how peaceful his face always was.
She frowned at the memories. Why were they flooding her now?
Obviously, no matter how sweet Leon's kisses, no matter how strong his arms,
how lazy and free the days were, it hadn't been enough. Even if it had
been enough, something had interfered. Something had gone wrong, or she
wouldn't be with Roger now. She and Leon would still be together.
(Roger...oh, my God.) She stopped short in the hallway, frozen with
guilt and fear. (I owe Roger such an apology. He must be so fed up with
me. Why do I feel this way? Why is it when Leon's near I get so
confused? I want to just fall into his arms and let him kiss everything
away...but when he's gone I come to my senses. Why? What's wrong with me?)
"Excuse me!" a girl said, bumping into her from behind. Stopping
short in the hallway probably wasn't such a good idea.
"Sorry...sorry," Dorothy said, moving out of the way.
"It's okay," the girl said, smiling and swinging long blonde hair as
she continued down the hall. The heels on her slides went click, click,
click...
~~~~~
)|("We have got to stop meeting like this," Dorothy said, trying to
joke. Great. First weekend back and this was what she got?
Leon chuckled. He looked great, too--insult to injury.
"Which one are you headed to?" Leon asked, indicating the movie
marquees on the side of the building.
"Oh--I'm making a stand," she laughed. "What about you? You here
alone?"
His face fell. "Um...well..."
Click, click, click...the sound made Dorothy look up from the ticket
window. A dark-haired woman in a pink minidress was stalking towards
them on her high heels.
"Who's your friend, Leon?"
Dorothy wondered what it was like to have a voice like cream soda. It
brushed against her like fur. She could only imagine the effect it had
on Leon, who was actually looking decidedly uncomfortable.
The dark-haired woman smiled, looking Dorothy up and down confidently.
She seemed to loom over Dorothy in her pink high heels. Dorothy felt
even shorter and her hair seemed to be not bright as blood but a dull
unattractive orange. She was suddenly regretting wearing knee boots and a
leather miniskirt. Her leather jacket read "Angels Motorcycles" with a
rhinestone halo over the "A". She felt about twelve years old.
"You didn't introduce me," the dark-haired woman purred to Leon,
fixing a wry smile on him.
He managed to look even more uncomfortable. "Of course. Ada, this is
Dorothy Wayneright. Dorothy, this is Ada Wong."
"It's nice to meet you," Dorothy said cheerfully, her voice sounding
thin even to her own ears as she extended her hand to the taller woman.
Each had a firm grip; each tried to squeeze harder than the other.
"Are you all by yourself, sweetheart?" Ada's tone was sugary sweet.
The endearment hurt the worst.
"No, I--I'm making a stand," she repeated, trying to muster up the old
cheerfulness. "In fact, my show's about to start. What are you two
going to see?"
Ada smiled. "We're seeing 'The Sweetest Thing'."
Dorothy turned to Leon. She couldn't resist. "You hate romantic
comedies."
He looked slightly alarmed as he lied, "...No, I don't."
Ada shot her a brief, squinty smile. Its meaning was clear
"Well, I'd better go. It was nice to meet you," Dorothy said to Ada,
hastily smiling and shaking the taller woman's hand again. "It was
great to see you again, Leon. Give me a call, we can get together." There,
that was good. That was mature. She felt slightly better, even
listening to the click-click of Ada's heels as they went their separate ways.
"Enjoy the show," Dorothy called, unsure if she was saying it to Leon
and Ada, or to the group of people who'd been watching their exchange.
It wasn't until she was securely settled in the theater, watching
zombies tear apart a group of special ops, that she remembered curling up
on a bed watching "Run Lola Run". Leon had fallen asleep before the
end, cuddled up against her. She hadn't had the heart to wake him, simply
stroked his hair back while reading the final subtitles, feeling his
soft breath on her neck.
A tear snaked down past her nose. She hastily brushed it aside.
Onscreen, a special operative sagged in the arms of her comrades. She
gave the audience a tired smile. " 'You know what? When I get out of
here, I think I'm gonna get laid.' "
The operative holding her left arm wrinkled his nose. " 'You might
want to clean up first.' "
Dorothy found herself rooting for the Red Queen. Not everything Alice
had found through the looking glass had been pleasant.)|(
~~~~~
It was memories like those that shocked her back to her senses,
although it was arguable that she might not have been so depressed had she
not been listening to the Duncan Sheik song that shared her viewpoint. It
wasn't exactly a hyper ballad.
She wanted to tell Roger the truth. But she couldn't. If he knew
she'd seen Leon, how close they'd been, he'd freak. If she confessed the
doubts she had, he'd be so angry. He'd throw her out; she'd lose him.
She'd lose him and Snowy, and the big house and the wonderful feeling
of belonging, the sweet aching fullness of her heart when he kissed
her...
She just couldn't tell him. If what she felt for Roger wasn't the
same as what she felt for Leon--not that she was sure what THAT was
anymore--she never wanted Roger to know. She loved Roger, would never hurt
him.
(Maybe he doesn't love me after all,) she thought. (Would my betrayal
really hurt him that much? Maybe I'm flattering myself. How will I
know?)
She headed home. These days it seemed to take so long to get there.
~~~~~
Roger sighed, turning over an hourglass. He'd found what was
bothering him, finally. It gave him a sense of order and right to see the
pieces fit.
The ticket--SOMETHING had been bothering him about the ticket, and he
had finally realized what--the handwriting on the ticket matched the
handwriting on the card that had come with those damned roses.
Come to think of it, Dorothy had been acting strange since going to pay
for the ticket...
Roger tented his fingers. He would not think the worst of his Dorothy.
It could be nothing. There had to be a logical explanation for this.
The negotiator reached for the phone.
Roger shook his head as he realized he was seeing more of Dastun than
ever he did while on the force. How ironic.