Tokio’s mind shut out the continuing carnage, keeping her focus on the downed man beside her, who now appeared to be returning to consciousness. As Cop-san continued his path to wakefulness, he reached for her hand, an action that completely surprised and unnerved her. As shocked as she was when he threaded their fingers together and gently kissed her knuckles there was a part of her that knew it felt right, that it felt as natural and familiar as anything related to a man ever had. Tokio dated, but none of the men who had shown an interest in her felt ‘right’. So she’d never encouraged them, and things had never advanced past the platonic stage with any of them.
Slowly, the wounded officer moved her hand to rest over his heart, his fingers still locked with hers. Her hand on the bare skin of his chest caused a flurry of emotions, that same feeling of familiarity, a sense of belonging, of being cherished, and a desire for more. But more of what? Was it a question she dare ask? Was she afraid of the answer?
She knew the man was severely injured; his body was under unbelievable stress. Most likely he was hallucinating that he was awaking with his ‘lady’ by his side. Whether the woman was wife or girlfriend, Tokio had no clue. For a second, Tokio foolishly wondered what it would be like to be this man’s wife. Having such thoughts about a total stranger unnerved her, especially when a little voice echoed fleetingly in her mind, ‘You already are…’ At that moment a trip to mental health services to be fitted for a straight jacket seemed like a good idea to Tokio.
But she couldn’t deny, no matter how hard she tried, that the gentle touch of his lips on her skin made her long for more, made her long for another time, another place. Where could these strange thoughts be coming from?
When Tokio realized that Ken and Sally seemed to be the only ones standing, another –very strange- thought skipped through her subconscious mind, ‘Just let Himura handle it.’ She was vaguely aware that the red-head chased his prey out the open door and onto the street. So was the officer. His eyes followed the two men, as if he wanted in on the hunt. But wasn’t that his nature? How in the world would she know *that*?
Then the cop refocused his gaze on her. His eyes were full of pain…open…unguarded, as though he was letting her see his soul. The two of them shared a moment of confusion, sorrow and raw longing. Her hair brushed over him. She almost leaned down and kissed him, but he chose that moment to try to sit, only to lean back heavily against her chest. She knew he was forcing himself to get back into action. ..he always did, didn’t he, regardless of how badly he was injured. The image of multiple, deep cuts on the front of his legs drifted through her mind. With only the thin fabric of her undergarment between them, she was aware of his comforting warmth. Instinctively her bare, slender arms wrapped around him, supporting him, wanting nothing more than to protect him and be by his side. She could feel him relax against her.
Ken must have taken care of Sally, because he was now returning to the diner. As the red-head brushed past them, the man she was holding, his voice laced with pain, admonished her to be still. She would be. She also knew that as crazy as it was, because it truly *was* crazy, she would always and forever do what he asked of her. For some strange, unexplainable reason she would trust this stranger with her life.
The man whom she was now clutching, as if her life depended on it, shifted in her arms with a labored breath. Her heart wrenched, knowing that the pain he suffered must be excruciating. It was a surreal feeling, because holding him felt so familiar, so right. How could she feel this way toward someone she first laid eyes on a mere half an hour ago? The hinges on the door to the diner’s back room creaked, as Ken emerged.
”Do not engage that man, not unless you absolutely have to”
Tokio nodded in reply, so focused on Cop-san’s ragged breathing that she was barely aware of a jacket being draped over her cold shoulders, or of the light squeeze that followed, or of the reassuring words telling her that it would be okay. Of course it would be okay, she was with…Hajime…wasn’t she?
Sirens. She looked around only to see Ken approach them again with a tablet in his hand. She was too numbed by the events in the diner to think quickly, and it wasn’t until the waiter slipped the tablet under the officer’s hand that she realized what was happening. She tried to lunge forward to grab it from him, but the weight of Cop-san leaning against her limited her range of motion. All she could do was bark out, “Hey. Give that back!”
Tires screeching, shouts, more gunshots. Tokio winced. Then Cop-san tried to get up again, but she gently held him to her chest, whispering in his ear, “No, you have to stay still. Your leg is still bleeding.” Although the blouse she wrapped around his deeply cut thigh helped stem the tide of blood, she hadn’t had the strength necessary to secure it as tightly as it should have been. A cold knot formed in her stomach as she gazed over him. His face was losing color; it was ashen. It had to be from loss of blood. Panic gripped her. She could lose him. Not again. There was a memory. The last time she had to endure six long years without him before she was taken. She knew she would not survive that again.
He kept looking at her now, as if he was trying to imprint her face in his memory. Their hands clasped together again, finding comfort in the connection. It was natural. It was familiar. It was the way it was supposed to be. And above all…it was crazy…she was going crazy…she didn’t care because whatever this was…she knew it was right.
He could barely speak.
“You did well…have my thanks…and my…”
'Love’, her mind answered for him, tears now welling in her eyes and trailing down her cheeks.
There was a rush of activity, a woman calling to him. Men. A med cart. No. He was being lifted away from her. Their clasped hands were torn apart. She felt a sense of loss; she was no longer whole. A part of her had been ripped away, again.
It was so stupid. He needed urgent medical care or he could die. But she *didn’t * want to see him go. She even wanted to climb into the med evac and go to the hospital with him. How irrational was that, she asked herself?
When they put him on the gurney, a chill coursed through her, and it wasn’t from the cool air blowing over her skin through the open door, either.
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Date: 2012-04-15 11:09 am (UTC)Slowly, the wounded officer moved her hand to rest over his heart, his fingers still locked with hers. Her hand on the bare skin of his chest caused a flurry of emotions, that same feeling of familiarity, a sense of belonging, of being cherished, and a desire for more. But more of what? Was it a question she dare ask? Was she afraid of the answer?
She knew the man was severely injured; his body was under unbelievable stress. Most likely he was hallucinating that he was awaking with his ‘lady’ by his side. Whether the woman was wife or girlfriend, Tokio had no clue. For a second, Tokio foolishly wondered what it would be like to be this man’s wife. Having such thoughts about a total stranger unnerved her, especially when a little voice echoed fleetingly in her mind, ‘You already are…’ At that moment a trip to mental health services to be fitted for a straight jacket seemed like a good idea to Tokio.
But she couldn’t deny, no matter how hard she tried, that the gentle touch of his lips on her skin made her long for more, made her long for another time, another place. Where could these strange thoughts be coming from?
When Tokio realized that Ken and Sally seemed to be the only ones standing, another –very strange- thought skipped through her subconscious mind, ‘Just let Himura handle it.’ She was vaguely aware that the red-head chased his prey out the open door and onto the street. So was the officer. His eyes followed the two men, as if he wanted in on the hunt. But wasn’t that his nature? How in the world would she know *that*?
Then the cop refocused his gaze on her. His eyes were full of pain…open…unguarded, as though he was letting her see his soul. The two of them shared a moment of confusion, sorrow and raw longing. Her hair brushed over him. She almost leaned down and kissed him, but he chose that moment to try to sit, only to lean back heavily against her chest. She knew he was forcing himself to get back into action. ..he always did, didn’t he, regardless of how badly he was injured. The image of multiple, deep cuts on the front of his legs drifted through her mind. With only the thin fabric of her undergarment between them, she was aware of his comforting warmth. Instinctively her bare, slender arms wrapped around him, supporting him, wanting nothing more than to protect him and be by his side. She could feel him relax against her.
Ken must have taken care of Sally, because he was now returning to the diner. As the red-head brushed past them, the man she was holding, his voice laced with pain, admonished her to be still. She would be. She also knew that as crazy as it was, because it truly *was* crazy, she would always and forever do what he asked of her. For some strange, unexplainable reason she would trust this stranger with her life.
The man whom she was now clutching, as if her life depended on it, shifted in her arms with a labored breath. Her heart wrenched, knowing that the pain he suffered must be excruciating. It was a surreal feeling, because holding him felt so familiar, so right. How could she feel this way toward someone she first laid eyes on a mere half an hour ago? The hinges on the door to the diner’s back room creaked, as Ken emerged.
”Do not engage that man, not unless you absolutely have to”
Tokio nodded in reply, so focused on Cop-san’s ragged breathing that she was barely aware of a jacket being draped over her cold shoulders, or of the light squeeze that followed, or of the reassuring words telling her that it would be okay. Of course it would be okay, she was with…Hajime…wasn’t she?
Sirens. She looked around only to see Ken approach them again with a tablet in his hand. She was too numbed by the events in the diner to think quickly, and it wasn’t until the waiter slipped the tablet under the officer’s hand that she realized what was happening. She tried to lunge forward to grab it from him, but the weight of Cop-san leaning against her limited her range of motion. All she could do was bark out, “Hey. Give that back!”
Tires screeching, shouts, more gunshots. Tokio winced. Then Cop-san tried to get up again, but she gently held him to her chest, whispering in his ear, “No, you have to stay still. Your leg is still bleeding.” Although the blouse she wrapped around his deeply cut thigh helped stem the tide of blood, she hadn’t had the strength necessary to secure it as tightly as it should have been. A cold knot formed in her stomach as she gazed over him. His face was losing color; it was ashen. It had to be from loss of blood. Panic gripped her. She could lose him. Not again. There was a memory. The last time she had to endure six long years without him before she was taken. She knew she would not survive that again.
He kept looking at her now, as if he was trying to imprint her face in his memory. Their hands clasped together again, finding comfort in the connection. It was natural. It was familiar. It was the way it was supposed to be. And above all…it was crazy…she was going crazy…she didn’t care because whatever this was…she knew it was right.
He could barely speak.
“You did well…have my thanks…and my…”
'Love’, her mind answered for him, tears now welling in her eyes and trailing down her cheeks.
There was a rush of activity, a woman calling to him. Men. A med cart. No. He was being lifted away from her. Their clasped hands were torn apart. She felt a sense of loss; she was no longer whole. A part of her had been ripped away, again.
It was so stupid. He needed urgent medical care or he could die. But she *didn’t * want to see him go. She even wanted to climb into the med evac and go to the hospital with him. How irrational was that, she asked herself?
When they put him on the gurney, a chill coursed through her, and it wasn’t from the cool air blowing over her skin through the open door, either.