avatar 17
Title: Avatar 17
Author/artist: TamLin
Setting: AU
Rating: T
Summary: coming down the home stretch. Time to find 'Cloud'
It was dark. Not pitch black - he was aware of vague shapes in the darkness passing by from time to time. Clouds most likely because they didn't give him any feeling of threat or solidity. There was movement - but no sense of up or down. He assumed he was falling because there really was no such thing as an alternative to gravity but he couldn't tell.
He needed to check his altimeter.
He didn't, quite, remember how he'd gotten into this position, but given the situation he guessed that he must be on a jump. And from the amount of time that he'd been falling, fuzzy though his sense of that was, he guessed he was pulling a HALO. And that it was a night op.
Neither were particularly new for him and he had even, once or twice at the beginning he remembered, smelled oxygen and felt a pressure in his nose so he knew he had to be wearing the oxygen mask that let him breath at the high altitude they dropped from. He didn't feel cold - which was new - but he didn't feel warm either. He didn't feel much of anything in fact. Even the wind he should have been feeling pressing up against him while the earth below caused him to press down wasn't there.
He needed to check that altimeter.
It must have been a very long drop because he didn't remember exactly when it had started - which was disturbing for a lot of reasons, not the least of which was that he hadn't been able to go over his mental checklist. Which meant he wasn't sure everything was where and how it should be - but more, meant that for some reason he'd skipped or forgotten his OCD habit.
Which meant he wasn't mentally prepared for whatever he was going to run into once he hit the ground.
He needed to check his altimeter or he'd be hitting the ground much more unexpectedly and permanently than he intended.
So - why hadn't he prepped before the jump? And - what was he jumping for? What was the mission, his objectives, his intel? Who was his PC, his precious cargo, that he was supposed to be finding and rescuing from their downed plane or fubar mission?
What had gone wrong that they needed to send him in to salvage what was left?
He didn't know and there was no way he would be jumping out of a plane without knowing what he was supposed to do when he hit the ground -
…and he really needed to check his altimeter.
cloud…
He made a sound, low in his throat, indicating he was listening even before he was really aware of what he was doing. What was he doing?
He was half-dozing, sitting upright and curled forward into himself in some cave that only God could find in the desert mountains, the night so dark in its interior that he couldn't even see his knees in front of his nose. Any second now, Black would slip back to nudge him with a boot toe before collapsing into a pile next to him and he'd go forward and take his watch and listen to the shaggy horses shift and the quiet snores of the robed men scattered around them.
Who put cavalry up against artillery? And wilder still - who expected it to win the way it did with a few well-directed hits from the gunship overhead? His drop and extract had turned into a whole lot more than he'd anticipated… but he'd found Black and everything else kind of didn't matter the way that single fact did.
cloud…
In the dark, he lifted his head or thought he did - just about as much as he thought he had been falling or thought he had been sitting.
Where was he?
That's right. It was nighttime and he was drifting in the Gulf. Must have just gotten back from a mission because one of the first things he did to detox was to jump off the edge of the little dock behind his house and into the salt water. So it must be nighttime and he must have just jumped and be floating in that weightless 'between' moment when the bubbles weren't rising and you weren't sure which way was up or down. He shut his eyes and relaxed.
It must have been a successful mission. He didn't have the bitter taste of copper and failure in his mouth.
…steve…
Ah.
There was the taste.
"Steve…"
He sat up and the water parted and there she was. Standing on the dock, sweet and perfect and heartbreaking in a simple sundress with her hair all loose and over her pale shoulders.
… I love you, he thought…
I think I never stopped.
"Steve - " she called his name again and she wasn't looking at him when she did it - or at anything else either, eyes fixed on some far distant in-between point. There was no reason for her to see him. He lived his life invisible and, even more than that, she shouldn't even be looking for him anymore.
She'd been the only one to see him, the real him, so many years ago and continents away.
She was calling for him now though.
He swam the short distance to the pier and pulled himself up onto it and he noticed, again, the distinct lack of temperature change. He was still in his fatigues and they had stains on them that he didn't recognize but wasn't surprised by, honest dark spots on his knees and elbows, more disturbing and spattered stains up one arm and across his hip on that side.
"Steve!" she called him again and he realized why entire classrooms must love her and yet cower in fear of her disapproval.
He'd never been able to bear the thought of her disapproval.
Her feet were bare on the worn, sun bleached wood of the dock and she looked as if she were listening very hard for something in that invisible space she was staring into. He thought of all the times he'd daydreamed about coming home and pulling her into the water with him so that she was laughing and wet and soft against him.
"I'm here."
She hadn't heard him approach and, in retrospect he hadn't heard himself either, but she made a soft noise and spun. It wobbled her off balance on the perfectly flat surface of the pier and everything about her wavered, unsteady and fragile. He saw the twilight ocean through her. Instincts older than any training, kicked in first and he caught her, hauling her up against him, holding tight because she might fall otherwise and she already had one scar on her head under the dark silk of her hair and it wouldn't be his fault again. This time he'd be fast enough and strong enough and smart enough and there wouldn't be any growing puddle of blood in a back alley while bullies ran away and he couldn't leave her but he wasn't enough for her, wasn't what she needed to save her.
"Steve - " her fingers were tight in the fabric of his clothing, his school uniform worn with both wear and washings compared to the starch stiffness of his schoolmates' clothes. He wrapped his arms tighter around her, felt the familiar brush of her school skirt against the fabric of his pants legs.
"It's all right. It's me. I'm here," he told her, determined not to let her go with him this time. Determined to make her stay in the schoolyard where she belonged and where she was safe.
Where she wouldn't get hurt and their lives together wouldn't come to an end because he was too stupid to keep her safe.
"There you are…" it was an exhale against his ear and sent the shivers down his back that he shouldn't recognize but did the way only a grown man could. The body he was holding didn't belong to a skinny, knees and elbows pre-teen girl.
"I'm sorry." The chest against his was fuller and there was so much soft skin waiting to be touched, barely hidden by her half top and that amazing short skirt. He felt the weight of the Buster against his back and had to shift his arm so the metal bracer on it didn't dig into her skin. "I didn't mean to lie to you." It came out easily, something he'd been saying inside his head for so long that his tongue repeated it without conscious decision. She knew his name - which mean it was over and she knew who he was and why - God… why was she still hanging on to him? Why was she letting him hold her? "Or - I did. Mean to lie. I just didn't mean for you to find out. I took advantage of you not knowing who I was and I'm sorry - but I'm not." All the smooth lines and the easy flow of words had dried up in him because… this was important. More important than just about anything in his life that he was allowed to care about. And the important things… he wasn't any good with the important things. Never had been. "I just - wanted to be with you one last time. I never thought I'd have the chance and when I did - I'm not sorry I did it. I'm sorry it hurt you. I didn't mean for that part to happen."
But then again - he never did. And she always got hurt anyway…
Hurt for her obviously meant something else though, something older, and it was what came out when she answered.
"Why did you leave?" It was blurted and she bit whatever was supposed to follow back - but it wasn't the pause of waiting for an answer. He could feel her body tensing, feel her gathering herself for the burst. But she didn't pull away. "I woke up in that hospital and everyone came to see me - but you." Her voice was young. "I got sent to live with my grandmother and it was the middle of nowhere and there was no one there and I wasn't allowed to play outside or run or jump or anything that might end up with me hurt and I was so alone and it was a cage! And the only time I got to go out was when we went to the post office to get our mail and she'd go in and I'd wait outside and I always knew there would be a letter from you but there never was. Not once. I kept waiting for you to come and find me but you didn't. I snuck a phone call in the middle of the night once but some other family was already living in your house and that's how I found out you'd moved because you didn't even tell me you were leaving!" She was so angry but she was holding him so tight, face pressed into his shoulder. "How could you leave me all alone like that? How could you forget about me so fast? You were my best friend in the whole world and I needed you - and you weren't there."
As soon as the words had started pouring out of her he'd gotten that gut deep feeling, the sick, pit of your stomach drop that told you you'd missed something impossibly important and there was no way to go back and fix it. He went very still as he held her and his eyes opened and stared sightlessly over her shoulder into absolute darkness. The raw emotion in her voice tore at him and so did the accusations even though he deserved every one of them. His chest went numb but somehow it hurt too.
"It's my fault," it struggled out of his tight throat and it hurt too. Because - it was his fault - all his fault. Even more of his fault than he'd realized.
"No!" she protested it and for the first time she actually sounded hard. Against the fabric of his shirt her fists pulled as if she was trying to shake him. Her voice was clearer when she spoke and he thought maybe she'd pulled her face back to try to look at his but he couldn't see anything. "No. That's not a good enough answer. I want to know why! You said you didn't think a man could forget me. You followed me into the game. You have been there, always, all this time. I want to know why you left me alone all those years ago. I deserve a real answer."
She did. Of course she did. His head bowed and he frowned, brows low.
"I thought - " he took a deep breath. "I thought you hated me. It was my fault you got hurt. Those bullies were after me and you got in the way. It was my fault you were unconscious for so long." He couldn't see her but he could feel her and one of his hands rose to cover the back of her head, cradling that spot where he knew the scar was. He felt her wince when he touched it but she didn't pull away. "My mother took me to the hospital every day. I sat in the lobby until visiting hours were over. Your father said I couldn't come into your room - that it was my fault. I remember he and my mom fought about it. When you woke up, he said I couldn't visit the hospital anymore. He said you were angry at me, that you blamed me. That you didn't want to see me, that it would just upset you. So I went by your house every day instead. I used to sit in the alley between the buildings and watch your window, waiting for you to come back, to walk past so I could tell you I was sorry. Except you didn't and I found out they'd sent you away."
His hands tightened the smallest bit on her and he remembered how angry he'd been, how furious - and how guilty he'd felt. Because - she wouldn't have left if it wasn't for him. If it wasn't for her spending time with him in the first place. He meant to stop there but the words kept pouring out and he pressed his face into her soft hair to try to muffle them when he realized he really was going to tell her the whole ugly thing. "I started getting into fights at school. More fights," he amended. "I was - terrible at home. My mom finally got the information from the school about where your records were transferred to. I think she snuck in somehow. I wrote you a letter every day and I gave them to the mailman myself. Every day. But I never heard back from you. And then - my father died, Yumi. Just some freak training exercise. I - kind of fell apart. Finished falling apart. I got expelled and broke some stuff at home and mom finally decided to move us to the States where we could stay with dad's family. It took me away from you - again - and I got worse." He had to stop again but he felt the nudge of her chin against his shoulder and she softly prompted:
"What happened?"
He made a soft sound.
"They were going to put me in a military school - but then dad's older brother showed up. He lived out in the middle of the nowhere in the mountains in Montana and he told me I could do anything I wanted with my life but he thought I was too scrawny and wimpy to do anything worthwhile. So I went out to his ranch to prove him wrong. Except he was right."
In his arms she made a protesting noise and he smiled against her hair and for the first time, he hugged her a little bit closer and it wasn't a desperate move.
"No, he really was right. I was just some angry, lost, punk-ass kid. But there was no one to fight out there and no one to help me when I needed it but him. He was an old retired Beret and he wasn't really up on kids or what to do with them so he just treated me like a smaller, slightly new recruit to his military team. Of two. He gave me space to figure out what was important and wasn't afraid to take me down a notch when he thought I was focusing on the wrong thing but he never raised his voice, never raised his hand and never left me stuck in whatever mess I'd gotten myself into for too long. He taught me that I could count on him and that being a man was about that. He taught me how to survive - but he taught me how to live too. When I was old enough, I told him I was going to join the military. He told me that I could do anything that I wanted in there but that God loved medics - and so did he. I joined the air force. I'm a pararescue jumper." At her curious noise he elaborated. "I'm the one they send in when a pilot goes down in hostile territory or when delicate equipment needs to be dropped somewhere sensitive or whenever things have just gone to shit and someone needs to pull everyone else out." He verbally stumbled to a stop then, having given her so much more of his life's story than he'd meant to. Embarrassed he cleared his throat but at least she wasn't pulling away from him.
"I kept meaning to find you. Hunt you down and apologize. That's what I'm supposed to do - find people and make things right. When Black was here for the VR games as Zack, one of the reasons I agreed to come was because I wanted to find you. I even got your work address… but I didn't have the nerve to see you. Not even from a distance. It had been so many years and I didn't know what I'd say or how you'd react or if you'd even recognize me anymore." He made a noise low in his throat. "I can drop into the middle of enemy territory in the middle of a pitch black night with no backup but what I'm carrying and I didn't have the guts to face you." He exhaled.
"I'm sorry, sweetheart. I should have known better. I should have known you better."
She was quiet for a moment, weighing him he knew and he stood there silently in the dark and let her. If anyone had a right to judge him and find him lacking - it was her. Finally, he felt her nod, her hair brushing soft against him.
"You're right. You should have known me better. But I should have known you better too." Her fingers shifted on his shirt and, softer, she said: "We'll have to work on that. Now. From now on. Okay?"
"Christ, yes," there was no stopping him after that and he cupped her face in his hands, careful to find it in the dark, and covered her mouth with his. And she answered. Like forgiveness and a welcome home after you'd been gone far, far too long, she answered. His arms slipped down to pull her closer into him and he sealed his mouth more completely over hers, going slow, taking his time because they had all the time in the world and he wanted to explore every inch of her, starting with the taste and heat of her mouth.
He'd wasted too many years without her. Too many years for both of them. Starting now, he was going to make that right. He was going to spend the rest of his life making that right.
Right after he convinced her to break it off with her fiancé.
"Yumi…"
"Yes."
It wasn't a question and so he paused, forehead touching hers, feeling her exhales against his lips. Quiet, confused, he said:
"I haven't asked anything yet."
"The answer's still yes," her voice told him in the dark. "Yes, I'm single now. Since after the zolom cave. You were right. I had to do that for myself no matter what I decided about us later on. And - yes, I want to spend time with you when this is done." Against his forehead, hers moved the smallest bit and somehow, he knew she was blushing. "Maybe yes to another question later on too. If - that's what we both want."
It was almost too much to take in all at once but - he got the important facts. He felt his heart catch in his chest at her level of faith in him. In them.
If Black had told her about his mother's wedding ring he was going to kill the man.
And then White would have to stand in for best man at the wedding…
"I love you," he told her and it was honest and sure - and easily far, far too early to be making confessions like that. She still smiled though, he could feel it and her kiss found the edge of his mouth.
"It's about time you told me."
The laughter was unexpected when it hit him and he gathered her close in his arms as it coughed roughly out of him, lowering his face to press it into his shoulder.
"That's my girl," he murmured and felt the way her arms tightened in a hug around him.
"Come on," she agreed. "Let's go home."
"Hn," he nodded against her, lifting his head and straightening, making sure to hold her tightly. He wasn't about to lose her now. Voice calm, she recited a string of numbers and words that made no sense to him but had to be some kind of activation code. He wasn't even sure how the physics of this whole thing worked anymore considering how tangled up in computer program his conscious was - but he trusted White and he trusted her. The black around them went streaked with colors and he squinted his eyes against the sudden light. He felt her tuck her face down into his shoulder and he felt his own stomach lurch. His ears popped and he felt an inhale move through him that was ice cold and hurt and cleared him all the way down. There was a sound, like a train or wind rushing past -
And then suddenly he was flat on his back, arms still full of soft, warm female as she lay on top of him. He blinked and his vision went unfocused and then sharp again. His mouth felt dry and he grunted just to make sure his lungs were still moving. Above him he saw a night sky and the sides of dull, gray colored buildings. In his nose he could smell the dank chill of enclosing walls and the much fainter smell of gun grease and brine. Turning his head he saw the side of a building and beyond that the end of the alley and a clear view of -
"…shit…"
Author/artist: TamLin
Setting: AU
Rating: T
Summary: coming down the home stretch. Time to find 'Cloud'
It was dark. Not pitch black - he was aware of vague shapes in the darkness passing by from time to time. Clouds most likely because they didn't give him any feeling of threat or solidity. There was movement - but no sense of up or down. He assumed he was falling because there really was no such thing as an alternative to gravity but he couldn't tell.
He needed to check his altimeter.
He didn't, quite, remember how he'd gotten into this position, but given the situation he guessed that he must be on a jump. And from the amount of time that he'd been falling, fuzzy though his sense of that was, he guessed he was pulling a HALO. And that it was a night op.
Neither were particularly new for him and he had even, once or twice at the beginning he remembered, smelled oxygen and felt a pressure in his nose so he knew he had to be wearing the oxygen mask that let him breath at the high altitude they dropped from. He didn't feel cold - which was new - but he didn't feel warm either. He didn't feel much of anything in fact. Even the wind he should have been feeling pressing up against him while the earth below caused him to press down wasn't there.
He needed to check that altimeter.
It must have been a very long drop because he didn't remember exactly when it had started - which was disturbing for a lot of reasons, not the least of which was that he hadn't been able to go over his mental checklist. Which meant he wasn't sure everything was where and how it should be - but more, meant that for some reason he'd skipped or forgotten his OCD habit.
Which meant he wasn't mentally prepared for whatever he was going to run into once he hit the ground.
He needed to check his altimeter or he'd be hitting the ground much more unexpectedly and permanently than he intended.
So - why hadn't he prepped before the jump? And - what was he jumping for? What was the mission, his objectives, his intel? Who was his PC, his precious cargo, that he was supposed to be finding and rescuing from their downed plane or fubar mission?
What had gone wrong that they needed to send him in to salvage what was left?
He didn't know and there was no way he would be jumping out of a plane without knowing what he was supposed to do when he hit the ground -
…and he really needed to check his altimeter.
cloud…
He made a sound, low in his throat, indicating he was listening even before he was really aware of what he was doing. What was he doing?
He was half-dozing, sitting upright and curled forward into himself in some cave that only God could find in the desert mountains, the night so dark in its interior that he couldn't even see his knees in front of his nose. Any second now, Black would slip back to nudge him with a boot toe before collapsing into a pile next to him and he'd go forward and take his watch and listen to the shaggy horses shift and the quiet snores of the robed men scattered around them.
Who put cavalry up against artillery? And wilder still - who expected it to win the way it did with a few well-directed hits from the gunship overhead? His drop and extract had turned into a whole lot more than he'd anticipated… but he'd found Black and everything else kind of didn't matter the way that single fact did.
cloud…
In the dark, he lifted his head or thought he did - just about as much as he thought he had been falling or thought he had been sitting.
Where was he?
That's right. It was nighttime and he was drifting in the Gulf. Must have just gotten back from a mission because one of the first things he did to detox was to jump off the edge of the little dock behind his house and into the salt water. So it must be nighttime and he must have just jumped and be floating in that weightless 'between' moment when the bubbles weren't rising and you weren't sure which way was up or down. He shut his eyes and relaxed.
It must have been a successful mission. He didn't have the bitter taste of copper and failure in his mouth.
…steve…
Ah.
There was the taste.
"Steve…"
He sat up and the water parted and there she was. Standing on the dock, sweet and perfect and heartbreaking in a simple sundress with her hair all loose and over her pale shoulders.
… I love you, he thought…
I think I never stopped.
"Steve - " she called his name again and she wasn't looking at him when she did it - or at anything else either, eyes fixed on some far distant in-between point. There was no reason for her to see him. He lived his life invisible and, even more than that, she shouldn't even be looking for him anymore.
She'd been the only one to see him, the real him, so many years ago and continents away.
She was calling for him now though.
He swam the short distance to the pier and pulled himself up onto it and he noticed, again, the distinct lack of temperature change. He was still in his fatigues and they had stains on them that he didn't recognize but wasn't surprised by, honest dark spots on his knees and elbows, more disturbing and spattered stains up one arm and across his hip on that side.
"Steve!" she called him again and he realized why entire classrooms must love her and yet cower in fear of her disapproval.
He'd never been able to bear the thought of her disapproval.
Her feet were bare on the worn, sun bleached wood of the dock and she looked as if she were listening very hard for something in that invisible space she was staring into. He thought of all the times he'd daydreamed about coming home and pulling her into the water with him so that she was laughing and wet and soft against him.
"I'm here."
She hadn't heard him approach and, in retrospect he hadn't heard himself either, but she made a soft noise and spun. It wobbled her off balance on the perfectly flat surface of the pier and everything about her wavered, unsteady and fragile. He saw the twilight ocean through her. Instincts older than any training, kicked in first and he caught her, hauling her up against him, holding tight because she might fall otherwise and she already had one scar on her head under the dark silk of her hair and it wouldn't be his fault again. This time he'd be fast enough and strong enough and smart enough and there wouldn't be any growing puddle of blood in a back alley while bullies ran away and he couldn't leave her but he wasn't enough for her, wasn't what she needed to save her.
"Steve - " her fingers were tight in the fabric of his clothing, his school uniform worn with both wear and washings compared to the starch stiffness of his schoolmates' clothes. He wrapped his arms tighter around her, felt the familiar brush of her school skirt against the fabric of his pants legs.
"It's all right. It's me. I'm here," he told her, determined not to let her go with him this time. Determined to make her stay in the schoolyard where she belonged and where she was safe.
Where she wouldn't get hurt and their lives together wouldn't come to an end because he was too stupid to keep her safe.
"There you are…" it was an exhale against his ear and sent the shivers down his back that he shouldn't recognize but did the way only a grown man could. The body he was holding didn't belong to a skinny, knees and elbows pre-teen girl.
"I'm sorry." The chest against his was fuller and there was so much soft skin waiting to be touched, barely hidden by her half top and that amazing short skirt. He felt the weight of the Buster against his back and had to shift his arm so the metal bracer on it didn't dig into her skin. "I didn't mean to lie to you." It came out easily, something he'd been saying inside his head for so long that his tongue repeated it without conscious decision. She knew his name - which mean it was over and she knew who he was and why - God… why was she still hanging on to him? Why was she letting him hold her? "Or - I did. Mean to lie. I just didn't mean for you to find out. I took advantage of you not knowing who I was and I'm sorry - but I'm not." All the smooth lines and the easy flow of words had dried up in him because… this was important. More important than just about anything in his life that he was allowed to care about. And the important things… he wasn't any good with the important things. Never had been. "I just - wanted to be with you one last time. I never thought I'd have the chance and when I did - I'm not sorry I did it. I'm sorry it hurt you. I didn't mean for that part to happen."
But then again - he never did. And she always got hurt anyway…
Hurt for her obviously meant something else though, something older, and it was what came out when she answered.
"Why did you leave?" It was blurted and she bit whatever was supposed to follow back - but it wasn't the pause of waiting for an answer. He could feel her body tensing, feel her gathering herself for the burst. But she didn't pull away. "I woke up in that hospital and everyone came to see me - but you." Her voice was young. "I got sent to live with my grandmother and it was the middle of nowhere and there was no one there and I wasn't allowed to play outside or run or jump or anything that might end up with me hurt and I was so alone and it was a cage! And the only time I got to go out was when we went to the post office to get our mail and she'd go in and I'd wait outside and I always knew there would be a letter from you but there never was. Not once. I kept waiting for you to come and find me but you didn't. I snuck a phone call in the middle of the night once but some other family was already living in your house and that's how I found out you'd moved because you didn't even tell me you were leaving!" She was so angry but she was holding him so tight, face pressed into his shoulder. "How could you leave me all alone like that? How could you forget about me so fast? You were my best friend in the whole world and I needed you - and you weren't there."
As soon as the words had started pouring out of her he'd gotten that gut deep feeling, the sick, pit of your stomach drop that told you you'd missed something impossibly important and there was no way to go back and fix it. He went very still as he held her and his eyes opened and stared sightlessly over her shoulder into absolute darkness. The raw emotion in her voice tore at him and so did the accusations even though he deserved every one of them. His chest went numb but somehow it hurt too.
"It's my fault," it struggled out of his tight throat and it hurt too. Because - it was his fault - all his fault. Even more of his fault than he'd realized.
"No!" she protested it and for the first time she actually sounded hard. Against the fabric of his shirt her fists pulled as if she was trying to shake him. Her voice was clearer when she spoke and he thought maybe she'd pulled her face back to try to look at his but he couldn't see anything. "No. That's not a good enough answer. I want to know why! You said you didn't think a man could forget me. You followed me into the game. You have been there, always, all this time. I want to know why you left me alone all those years ago. I deserve a real answer."
She did. Of course she did. His head bowed and he frowned, brows low.
"I thought - " he took a deep breath. "I thought you hated me. It was my fault you got hurt. Those bullies were after me and you got in the way. It was my fault you were unconscious for so long." He couldn't see her but he could feel her and one of his hands rose to cover the back of her head, cradling that spot where he knew the scar was. He felt her wince when he touched it but she didn't pull away. "My mother took me to the hospital every day. I sat in the lobby until visiting hours were over. Your father said I couldn't come into your room - that it was my fault. I remember he and my mom fought about it. When you woke up, he said I couldn't visit the hospital anymore. He said you were angry at me, that you blamed me. That you didn't want to see me, that it would just upset you. So I went by your house every day instead. I used to sit in the alley between the buildings and watch your window, waiting for you to come back, to walk past so I could tell you I was sorry. Except you didn't and I found out they'd sent you away."
His hands tightened the smallest bit on her and he remembered how angry he'd been, how furious - and how guilty he'd felt. Because - she wouldn't have left if it wasn't for him. If it wasn't for her spending time with him in the first place. He meant to stop there but the words kept pouring out and he pressed his face into her soft hair to try to muffle them when he realized he really was going to tell her the whole ugly thing. "I started getting into fights at school. More fights," he amended. "I was - terrible at home. My mom finally got the information from the school about where your records were transferred to. I think she snuck in somehow. I wrote you a letter every day and I gave them to the mailman myself. Every day. But I never heard back from you. And then - my father died, Yumi. Just some freak training exercise. I - kind of fell apart. Finished falling apart. I got expelled and broke some stuff at home and mom finally decided to move us to the States where we could stay with dad's family. It took me away from you - again - and I got worse." He had to stop again but he felt the nudge of her chin against his shoulder and she softly prompted:
"What happened?"
He made a soft sound.
"They were going to put me in a military school - but then dad's older brother showed up. He lived out in the middle of the nowhere in the mountains in Montana and he told me I could do anything I wanted with my life but he thought I was too scrawny and wimpy to do anything worthwhile. So I went out to his ranch to prove him wrong. Except he was right."
In his arms she made a protesting noise and he smiled against her hair and for the first time, he hugged her a little bit closer and it wasn't a desperate move.
"No, he really was right. I was just some angry, lost, punk-ass kid. But there was no one to fight out there and no one to help me when I needed it but him. He was an old retired Beret and he wasn't really up on kids or what to do with them so he just treated me like a smaller, slightly new recruit to his military team. Of two. He gave me space to figure out what was important and wasn't afraid to take me down a notch when he thought I was focusing on the wrong thing but he never raised his voice, never raised his hand and never left me stuck in whatever mess I'd gotten myself into for too long. He taught me that I could count on him and that being a man was about that. He taught me how to survive - but he taught me how to live too. When I was old enough, I told him I was going to join the military. He told me that I could do anything that I wanted in there but that God loved medics - and so did he. I joined the air force. I'm a pararescue jumper." At her curious noise he elaborated. "I'm the one they send in when a pilot goes down in hostile territory or when delicate equipment needs to be dropped somewhere sensitive or whenever things have just gone to shit and someone needs to pull everyone else out." He verbally stumbled to a stop then, having given her so much more of his life's story than he'd meant to. Embarrassed he cleared his throat but at least she wasn't pulling away from him.
"I kept meaning to find you. Hunt you down and apologize. That's what I'm supposed to do - find people and make things right. When Black was here for the VR games as Zack, one of the reasons I agreed to come was because I wanted to find you. I even got your work address… but I didn't have the nerve to see you. Not even from a distance. It had been so many years and I didn't know what I'd say or how you'd react or if you'd even recognize me anymore." He made a noise low in his throat. "I can drop into the middle of enemy territory in the middle of a pitch black night with no backup but what I'm carrying and I didn't have the guts to face you." He exhaled.
"I'm sorry, sweetheart. I should have known better. I should have known you better."
She was quiet for a moment, weighing him he knew and he stood there silently in the dark and let her. If anyone had a right to judge him and find him lacking - it was her. Finally, he felt her nod, her hair brushing soft against him.
"You're right. You should have known me better. But I should have known you better too." Her fingers shifted on his shirt and, softer, she said: "We'll have to work on that. Now. From now on. Okay?"
"Christ, yes," there was no stopping him after that and he cupped her face in his hands, careful to find it in the dark, and covered her mouth with his. And she answered. Like forgiveness and a welcome home after you'd been gone far, far too long, she answered. His arms slipped down to pull her closer into him and he sealed his mouth more completely over hers, going slow, taking his time because they had all the time in the world and he wanted to explore every inch of her, starting with the taste and heat of her mouth.
He'd wasted too many years without her. Too many years for both of them. Starting now, he was going to make that right. He was going to spend the rest of his life making that right.
Right after he convinced her to break it off with her fiancé.
"Yumi…"
"Yes."
It wasn't a question and so he paused, forehead touching hers, feeling her exhales against his lips. Quiet, confused, he said:
"I haven't asked anything yet."
"The answer's still yes," her voice told him in the dark. "Yes, I'm single now. Since after the zolom cave. You were right. I had to do that for myself no matter what I decided about us later on. And - yes, I want to spend time with you when this is done." Against his forehead, hers moved the smallest bit and somehow, he knew she was blushing. "Maybe yes to another question later on too. If - that's what we both want."
It was almost too much to take in all at once but - he got the important facts. He felt his heart catch in his chest at her level of faith in him. In them.
If Black had told her about his mother's wedding ring he was going to kill the man.
And then White would have to stand in for best man at the wedding…
"I love you," he told her and it was honest and sure - and easily far, far too early to be making confessions like that. She still smiled though, he could feel it and her kiss found the edge of his mouth.
"It's about time you told me."
The laughter was unexpected when it hit him and he gathered her close in his arms as it coughed roughly out of him, lowering his face to press it into his shoulder.
"That's my girl," he murmured and felt the way her arms tightened in a hug around him.
"Come on," she agreed. "Let's go home."
"Hn," he nodded against her, lifting his head and straightening, making sure to hold her tightly. He wasn't about to lose her now. Voice calm, she recited a string of numbers and words that made no sense to him but had to be some kind of activation code. He wasn't even sure how the physics of this whole thing worked anymore considering how tangled up in computer program his conscious was - but he trusted White and he trusted her. The black around them went streaked with colors and he squinted his eyes against the sudden light. He felt her tuck her face down into his shoulder and he felt his own stomach lurch. His ears popped and he felt an inhale move through him that was ice cold and hurt and cleared him all the way down. There was a sound, like a train or wind rushing past -
And then suddenly he was flat on his back, arms still full of soft, warm female as she lay on top of him. He blinked and his vision went unfocused and then sharp again. His mouth felt dry and he grunted just to make sure his lungs were still moving. Above him he saw a night sky and the sides of dull, gray colored buildings. In his nose he could smell the dank chill of enclosing walls and the much fainter smell of gun grease and brine. Turning his head he saw the side of a building and beyond that the end of the alley and a clear view of -
"…shit…"