It's Not Even Light Out

         She had lain in the dark for the last three hours, examining the ceiling and listening to the soothing sounds of the city outside the frozen windows.  The snow had fallen intermittently, between the shafts of green streetlight glow and into all the dirty little cracks and crevices in the concrete far, far below.  She lay unmoving as he tossed and turned, breathing harsh and shallow in his chest, which heaved against the restraint of the blankets he'd tied himself up in.  She ought to roll over and shake him awake, whisper calming words in his ear, stroke his hair until whatever haunted him was gone.  That's what a good person would do.
         Unfortunately Angel just didn't care.  His whimpers and groans affected her not the least little bit.  Tired of having the blankets jerked from her form and being elbowed and kneed she rolled from the bed  She padded barefoot across the cold wooden floor to stare out the window.  One hand came to rest on the pane, metallic "click click click" of her fingertips against the glass, her breath fogging the view yet further.
         His breathing quieted with a stifled gasp, and the blankets rustled.  His hands were searching the bed covers for her mostly-soft little form.  "Angel...Angel?" 
        She could picture his motions perfectly just from the sounds he made--his form shifting upright, propped on one elbow, squinting at her outline against the light.  His eyes swept her form, likely examining the tattoo-and-scar marked skin yet again.  His fascination during their earlier tussling had been cute, like he'd never really seen someone so clearly marked as what they were.  The polite thing to do at this point would be to turn around and acknowledge him.  She didn't.
         "What're you doing?"  he grumbled groggily up at her silhouette.  "Why are you up?"
         "I don't sleep much."  There had been occasions, of course, periods where in the right arms the tides of sleep had washed over her, putting her away for days in the most spectacular muddle of dream and reality.  She tried not to keep track of the days since--two years, seven months, three weeks, four days--but something in the deep grunt triggered a flashback.

         "Where do you think you're going?"  That sleepy growl made her smile, made her snuggle more deeply into his arms, bury her face against his neck, fingers clinging to his skin.
         "Nowhere," she sighed happily, settling back down.  She'd been propped up, watching him sleep, the rise and fall of his chest with each breath and the way his eyelids fluttered while he dreamed.  She let him draw her up pressed her lips and her body against him, skin to skin.  Every time was like the first time, every kiss and every touch a fresh exploration because it was always so long from one week in paradise to the next.  Even longer this time.  She stayed and stayed and stayed, ignoring her phone, ignoring the world, until Jhon had come pounding on their door and made her leave.  She'd had no choice.

         She shook her head, the veil of memory falling away and clearing her thoughts, her face empty of emotion and thought.  Eyes, the same dark blue as the sky somewhere far above, trailed this snowflake and that as they fluttered down to the sidewalk.  She heard him fall once more flat to the bed behind her, pulling the blankets up to clothe his skin again against the cold of the room.
         She didn't remember his name.
         "What are you thinking?" he asked her quietly.
         Metal fingers curled into a fist on the window, and over her shoulder she smiled at him, not bothering to mask the bitterness in the expression.  "You don't want to know," she replied.
         The look in his eyes was familiar.  It never failed to surprise her, and amuse her, how quickly they fell for her.  Two, maybe three nights now she'd come here, used him, and left before he rose.  She wanted there to be something, some spark, but of course there wasn't.  Even if something had happened...the flick of a lighter was nothing in the face of the roaring fire of London, the inferno that had consumed Chicago.  She was almost jealous of the desire, the ache, the want in his eyes, the devotion he tried to show to a ghost.
         Would that look still be there if he really knew?  If he took what he saw and used logic, the scars, the guns, if he realized, really realized, that six hours ago she had stood over the gurgling and groaning corpse of a politician, or was he a businessman?  She didn't know and it didn't really matter that much.  The body wouldn't be found 'til morning proper.  And he would never make the leap, come to the correct conclusion.
         Angel crossed the room, not looking at him, coming just close enough to collect her cigarettes and return to the window, one balanced between her lips as she settled on the sash and pushed it open.  Cold, icy air swept over pale, bare skin, but she didn't shiver.  She lit her cigarette and watched the world, wishing she could see the stars through the haze of her own cigarette smoke and the thick coating of smog that trapped the city within it.  The snow held all her memories, it seemed.

         It had snowed quietly, prettily, not the dirty city-choked snow that fell now, as they had walked through the park, holding hands.  Their fingers had entwined as they sat on the swings in the cold, talking, laughing, kissing.  Like the teenagers they were supposed to be, but were not.  But they had such an appreciation of what they had, of what was between them, an appreciation hardly anyone else could have understood.  They knew so well how quickly it could all disappear, never to be seen again.  How quickly they could disappear.
         That first time had been terrifying, terrifying for a girl who didn't trust but who had tumbled so quickly into such a foolish yearning.  He had not been gentle--no, she didn't think he had it in him.  She wouldn't have liked it if he had been gentle.  What he had done, powerfully and beautifully and frighteningly, was sweep her utterly off her feet.  He had claimed her as his; he had given her no choice in the matter.  He had made her fall in love.
         
          She flicked the butt of her cigarette out the window, a low sigh escaping her lips with the last exhale of smoke.  He was still watching her, the boy whose name she had forgotten.  His eyes were boring a hole into the side of her, so intense was his gaze.  She realized it was his stutter that had jumped her train of thought from its tracks, that he was trying to talk to her.  She finally deigned to settle her eyes on him, one light eyebrow arching in question.
         "I...I...Angel, I don't know how.."  He took a deep breath, and then the words flowed in a rush.  "You take my breath away, Angel, you're beautiful and you're strange and you're amazing and you've stolen my heart and I love you.  I love you."
         It was a would-be poet's confession, and she felt a pang of pity for him, her expression softening just a little.  But she couldn't entirely keep the contempt from her face, her voice. 
         "No you don't, darling.  And even if you do, I've nothing to give you.  I don't even remember your name."
         She shook her head, lifting herself off of the window sill to start pulling on her clothes.  It was most certainly time to go now.
         Every line of the poor boy's body was stricken, shocked and heartbroken.  Most women at the least would have let him down easily.  She had been so frank, had said it so easily...
         His words were a plea.  "Where are you going?  It's not even light yet."

         His words were a snarl.  "It's not even light yet."
         "I know.  You know exactly where I'm going and why, and it's important, love."  She was scrambling, actually in a hurry to leave this time.  She had to hurry, because the longer she waited...
         "I'll be back soon.  I own this place.  Stay, wait.  Be a kept man for a little while."  She could stop long enough to toss a wink and a grin over her shoulder at him.
         She was surprised to find him there, towering over her petite frame.  He swept her into his grasp, his chin resting on top of her head and his arms wrapped tightly around her. 
         "Something's wrong, Angel.  I don't feel good about this."
         "Hush."  Her fingers fell against his lips to silence his words, and she moved them only to steal a last kiss.  "Wait here for me.  That way you'll know for sure I'll be fine.  We could do this forever...maybe without all the running and hiding and hoping."
         Her smile, optimism, had lingered as she paused at the door, turning to him one last time.  "I love you," she told him.  Something about his frown had struck a chord, had left her feeling nervous as she headed out.
         She'd been back even sooner than she'd thought, just three days...and the building was gone.  Nothing but dust and rubble stood where she had left him, surrounded by yellow tape and flashing lights and screaming sirens and mothers.
         Five of them it had taken to keep her from rushing forward, like one of those overdramatic heroines in a Lifetime movie, and when they'd finally calmed her they'd tried to explain.  Shoddy architecture, old foundations, and just a bit of an earthquake....down it came.  They bought it, they believed it.  But Angel knew better.  Their reassurances, their explanations, their condolences became a low, irritating buzz in her ears, until she finally walked away.
         
         He stopped staring, shocked and open-mouthed, as her fingers reached the doorknob, and he shot from the bed, tripping over the sheets as he scrambled to catch her.  His fingers wrapped around her arm, her skin, dragging her back.  Begging with every blink of his eye and ever twitch of his muscles.
         "I love you.  Don't leave me.  I don't care how cold you are.  If you leave now you won't come back, I know it.  I don't want to watch you walk away."
         Gently she disengaged his hand from her arm, and cold metal fingers brushed his cheek for a second.  He thought she'd changed her mind as she leaned up to speak quietly into his ear, and his heart soared.
         "Then close your eyes."