You're Bleeding

The sunlight trickled through the emerald-hued leaves and tree branches like liquid gold paint, coating everything in the last few hours of daytime before sunset. Gentle crackling of the small campfire and the smell of the wood burning filled the air. The little glade felt isolated, as if it was not truly part of the world, but had been encased under a dome of glass and protected from the withering touch of Time and turmoil. As if it were synthetic, there was no way such a place could exist unless it were magical. This is the way home remained in her mind, a constant that never changed and would be there to welcome her always. Just like him.



Her eyes opened and took in the darkness around her. The smell of moist earth and the campfire vanished, instead mold and stagnant water assaulted her nose. It repulsed her how long she had been here. Why she was here was a necessity, though and it also made her not only annoyed at her slowed progress, but angry. "Don't be hasty. Don't blow your cover." That's what she had been told and she was ever so good and obedient. She hated her life in its current downhill tread.



The sound of heavy, echoing footsteps could be heard far away coming down the underground tunnel. Rebels and their ilk, she spied on them as the leader's concubine. She relished at the thought of being able to shred each and every one of those who had touched her. All in due time. She hated that too, she was patient and quiet when she put her mind to it. She hated her life.

---

"We shouldn't have sent her. She's three weeks overdue to contact us." "So that means she's either dead or joined up with the enemy, I don't see why you're so upset." "That's my wife you're talking about!" The man's blue eyes flared with an almost hellish blaze, catching any remarks in the other man's throat. The soldier gripped the sides of the desk with his hands tight enough in his anger to cause the wood to creak. The other man's eyes snapped down toward the hands and then quickly back up to that gaunt face staring at him with such hatred.



"What do you want to do?" "I want to go after her." "We can't spare you anyone, we're spread out too thin as it is..." "That's fine, I'll go on my own. Just give me clearance to do so. I'll bring back my wife and get you the enemy leader alive." The man behind the desk squinted disbelievingly before nodding. "Then we're through with the contract and demand pay and supplies." Not waiting for an answer, the elf straightened himself and turned, walking away. Often times it was good to be a hired sword, but then again it also left you in the position to be tossed aside carelessly. He hated his life sometimes.



---

She walked through the tunnels now, being led out into the town that bustled with life above. Three weeks. Too long and she knew what that meant; either they were going to try to pull her out or they were going to kill her so they wouldn't have to foot their pay. Claim treason or would not say a word about hiring them on as mercenaries. He would be in trouble too and that boiled her blood, but she had to keep a clear head. He'd come. He was coming and so she had to prepare.



Scuttling like rats from the sewers, she blended in with the rebels into the busy street. A marketplace provided plenty of cover and hiding places, but the grip on her elbow made sure she stayed with the leader. That was something she did find easy to manipulate; the human's jealousy. Wouldn't he be disappointed to learn she was never really his during the whole time. Sweating over her, sleeping with a knife to her throat afterward. The look on his face when he would eventually die made her almost giddy. The man, mistaking her body language for arousal, slipped a hand beneath her dress and squeezed her ass.



"Soon, my dear, we're almost there and its been a long time, hasn't it?" She looked back at him briefly before rolling casually into her act of appearing shy and embarrassed, giving a little coy smile and a nod of her head. The group travelled on, down the street, turning right and up a block or two before arriving at a tall apartment building with balconies all along the front. The new hideout. Three weeks ago she had leaked the location of the old one to the group she worked for, but they bungled it and all of them went underground - literally. She sensed treason on their end, but she bet they claimed it was just bad luck or things just didn't go well. He wasn't there during the raid, so she knew better. They probably even blamed her for giving bad information.



Inside the building was alot more glamorous than it was outside, wooden paneling and thick carpet made their steps hushed. The lights were bright enough that they hurt her eyes, so she carried a little frown, masking her light sensitivity with a look of "I've seen better" female disapproval. It worked, all of the men went head over heels in trying to explain that this was all they could get into on such short notice and bad luck and to please not be angry at their boss. He tried to please her first, afterall, so even alot of the people lower in rank (on the food chain, as she enjoyed thinking about it) even went without food or supplies to satisfy her whims.



She already knew this and made sure this was a constant problem, too. The less they had, the less likely those she worked for would be in danger. Another sign that she knew there was an informant, she had done her best show to make sure it would be easy to sweep up these people. So, she worked harder and refused to placate any of them.



Up the elevator to the top floor suite, which actually encompassed the entire floor itself, the wealth seemed to multiply tenfold just in this room alone. Gold and crystal. Silk and wine. She refused to be impressed and instead walked to the bedroom and slammed the door. Three weeks. She needed a bath.



---

Arriving on the train and meeting up with his contact, which also so happened to be the last man who saw and spoke with his wife, gained what information he could before she had disappeared from their radar. The man appeared quite confident that she had been killed in the bungled attempt to flush out the rebels from their hideout, afterall, the place was a charred ruin and they /did/ pull the corpse of a woman from it. Burned so badly that there was no way to identify who she was. The man would later find himself in the hospital, ribs broken as well as both legs. How he got there he'd never utter in his life before he died.



The mercenary now considered himself off the radar as well, it was necessary to make sure his plans didn't get leaked out before he was ready to make his move. He checked into a rundown motel and planned. He could feel that she was somewhere still in the city, and that made him impatient. That was bad. He had to keep focus so he could get his wife back and make good on that promise to fulfill his contract. He ordered subpar Chinese take-out, made sure all of his tools were in prime condition, then he slept. He also dreamed. Dreaming was never a good thing for him and he stuck to that.



He was on the bed in the hotel and laid on his side. "Malkorin?" At the sound of his name he snapped out of his sleep, his body rigid and his right hand went under his pillow for the pistol he hid there. The cold steel under his fingertips reassured him, so he answered. "Yes?" Breathing. A pattern he recognized was behind him. Now he could feel the added weight on the bed. He was worried to turn over, worried it would go away when he did, so he stayed where he was on his side. A warm arm slipped over his side and the soft press of a pair of breasts touched his bare back. His next breath caught as the warm lips touched at his ear, making him shiver.



"You're coming soon?" "Yes," he gasped out. "Very soon." "It's hard to stop the bleeding." "Bleeding? You're bleeding?" "No. You are." There was a brief pause. "You're going to come soon?" Now Malkorin looked down at the hand on his chest, glistening red liquid leaked from beneath and between the slim fingers. Oddly, he didn't feel any pain. "Yes, Saschemir. Soon." "Good, then you'll stop bleeding. And you won't miss me anymore." "I have missed you. So much." "Then wake up and come for me."



And with that he woke up with a start, sitting up in bed and his hand going to his chest. No blood. Just a dream. Dawn already streamed through where the curtain didn't cover the window, making him frown. He touched the empty part of the bed, the sheets were cold, but his side was sweated through. He stood and took a shower, his wife's voice repeating in the back of his mind. He had to wait for night to cover his tracks, but that didn't mean he couldn't go out and do some scout work until then.



---

Breakfast. A morning quickie, then the leader disappeared somewhere that she knew would keep him out until well after nightfall. The guards posted outside of the bedroom door radiated with horniness, as they had listened with their ears pressed to the noises their boss had made when she made him climax. She never did, but acted very well. She saved herself for him and by her clock it was he who was late now.



She showered the filth off of her and dressed, then stepped into the main room of the suite. She could feel their eyes on her body, which was clad in a drape of silk for a dress, showing generous amounts of cleavage and thigh as she moved. These were just grunts however, and knew better than to touch her. She announced that she was going out and the pair prepared to follow her, which was the last they would remember other than waking up in a tangle of one another's limbs and sweaty bodies. She slipped on a pair of dark sunglasses and departed, none of the other guards and lackeys the wiser.



Outside she went to one of the designated meeting spots, dressed down to more common attire, but still looking like money. She spent two hours waiting before she decided to leave, but thought better than to leave a note or somesuch behind this time. Not until the roach is stepped on, she thought. Stepping out onto the sidewalk she felt her heart skip a beat, frowning behind the glasses she continued on her way back to the building, but used a complicated path to get there. She was being followed and she didn't know which side was doing it.



She traveled down the alley behind the apartment building, keeping to the shadows and using the quiet to gauge the distance of the one tailing her. His steps were quiet, but not quiet enough, but the sound of a gun being cocked was unmistakable.



---

Malkorin first went to the old, burned out hideout. Newspapers dubbed it a tragic accident and yes, a woman's body had been retrieved and so had several mens. The Americans he worked for never claimed any of theirs were killed and he had been put out on another run, so he never got the chance to hear about the operation until yesterday from the mouthy informant. It wouldn't have failed if he'd been there, so something was more than fishy. This made things alot more complicated and made him now have to double think what he was going to do.



Then he felt it. The sure sign that his wife hadn't been killed in that fire. He blinked and still that hazy yellow hue plagued his senses. Fear. She was close enough that he could tell she was afraid of something and it had been many years since he had felt that in her. He ran, acting like a man who had the horrible luck to be missing a train. Or a bus. Or the most important chance in his life. It didn't help that their communication was so vague, though compared to a few centuries ago, it was stronger than even that bizarre connection twins have. Not for him at this moment, though, he wanted more of a direction than a blip on the radar that only blipped when you got closer to it. His heart pumped like a drum and his legs carried him where he hoped was closer than further away.



---

The man who now stood over her was looking very pleased with himself. She had been trained by the best in hand to hand combat from the more offensive styles to the defensive aikido forms. This man wasn't better and she knows those who taught her would be ashamed of her sloppiness. Then again she didn't use even a tenth of her real strength, or else she wouldn't get to know what she wanted.



"You're a traitor and you sent alot of good men to their deaths. Now you don't get the luxury of being fucked daily and wearing such pretty things." She remained silent. She wasn't much of a talker as it was, but this man was certainly rude. A traitor? A roach was more like it. Still, she was worried and part of her regretted playing the submission role. The gun leveled with her head, she watched every muscle movement and a split second before she could react the man's eyes showed confusion. A silenced shot had pierced the air that her sensitive ears picked up. Red blood bloomed on the man's shirt before he crumpled in a heap.



Saschemir took a breath and stared down the alley, the figure of someone crouched in the shadows drew her attention. Slowly she stood and removed her sunglasses, her eyes wide with both fear and surprise.



---

Warmer. Warmer. Hot. Red hot. Quiet now, slow down. Focus! Down that alley, just focus and slow your breathing. Malkorin's thoughts spun and his back pressed against the hot brick of the building, he could hear a man's voice and so he edged around the corner to look. He could barely make out someone on the ground. No. No, it couldn't be.



He snuck around and took cover behind one of the dumpsters, bringing his weapon up, aimed along the sight and fired the silenced weapon at the man's back where his heart would be. Not as clean as the back of the head, but easy. Steady. The yellow hues burned away and roared into blood-reds, poker hot passion that made his head swim. He gripped the corner of the dumpster as he pulled himself to his feet. "Stop," he whispered.



The colors and emotions ebbed and died down to slightly more tolerable levels. It still made it hard to think, but not so badly now. He forced himself forward, his steps slightly shaky. She walked toward him too, her eyes no longer hidden by the black sunglasses. Beauty incarnate. Even for an elf, he never could take his eyes off her and he dared not do that now. This had better not be an effing dream or I'm going to kill someone, Malkorin thought. Well. Someone else, anyhow.



Her lips were parted slightly, just a little cracked and pale, but she was still beautiful. Something was wrong, edges of green tinged those reds and she wasn't looking at him anymore. She was looking past him. Stealthily he pocketed his pistol and stood rigidly, his own long ears hearing hurried footsteps and readied weapons.



"Hand it over! Turn around!" Saschemir was grabbed by the arm and taken away with a stranger. He stared as she didn't fight back, confused he did as ordered and was also forced along to follow. So close. It hurt.



---

Inside the suite she was confined to the bedroom. She made it sound like she'd been possessed from the noises coming from there. Broken crystal. Broken mirrors. Shredded clothes and sheets and drapes. Shattered vases and even a window. She could hear through the wall when they struck and kicked him. She was an animal gone rabid. When they stopped so did she. Noone understood why she was so angry and livid.



When the sun had set and put the room in utter darkness, she was let out. It took all her willpower not to run to him. The guards explained what happened, at least to a degree and definitely not every detail. Too bad, she thought her prank had been quite a good one. The leader listened to his men, then he listened to her. She spoke, for once that alot of the men could ever remember her doing so. All of them seemed enraptured with her story. Malkorin didn't look up. He couldn't because he knew she did this for him. He was sore and angry. Eventually, he was given treatment for his cuts and ice for his bruises. Food and a new set of clothes. He found her and now he was in. This would make things easier.



---

The next morning he was given direct orders to watch her and keep the woman in the suite. He heard them make love. Now he understood his dream, he bled on the inside, but held the best face a poker player could have.



Once alone he entered the bedroom, but she wasn't there. The sheets were mussed and only some of the havoc she had created had been cleaned up. He waited, hearing the shower running and then she was there. Her black hair was wet, clinging to her face and shoulders, beads of water trickled down her nude form. That link between them flared up stronger than ever and it made him stagger, setting his hands on his knees as he stooped over. He felt like he was falling, and then she was hugging and kissing him.



All the anger. All the pain. The bleeding stopped. He blacked out between intense moments of pleasurable, passionate lovemaking. He held tightly onto his wife's warm body, praying he'd never have to let her go again. She laid atop him and in his arms, letting him sleep deeply while she remained awake. She thought and she planned. The rebel leader would be away the entire day and night and was not meant to return until the following day. This would give them time. She turned her head slightly and kissed his chest, then pressed her ear against it to hear his heartbeat.



"You came." The breathing stayed steady and deep. "I'm sorry for making you bleed. But I bled too." The heart beating into her ear was slow, but strong.



She closed her eyes and slept, lulled away by the warmth and sound of her husband. Now that they were together, things would be easier and then they could go home. Sunlight trickled through the leaves, painting everything in gold. Sunset. The fire crackling. It felt safe. Just like him.