This is in the more original form, without any reference to genders, as
it first came out.  I polished one up and added gender references to a post
on Usenet.

The Title on the posted article was "A Dream for You".

-li
-----
Background 'just know it' information was that you'd been off on a
mission, a nasty one that had cost us friends and while you had finished
off the mission, it had hurt.  I was there to pick you up to bring you to
HQ.  'There' being the SeaTac airport...

I waited for you at the gate, my back against one of the concrete pillars
that lined the hallway.  I watched the holiday flow of folks with a
friendly smile, but I was still watching them, watching the flows, seeing
the solitary ones and marking them, automatically.  It wasn't conscious, it
just was as natural as breathing and felt just as necessary.  

Folks started coming off the plane.  I spotted you well down the walkway.
Your walk was unmistakeable from hundreds of yards away, perhaps it was
that scar you carried from long ago.  You looked exhausted.  The tails of
your trench didn't fly worth a darn.  Your shoulders were slumped a bit,
and your stance was tired and from it I could also tell that you had,
somehow, persuaded airport security to let you keep your piece.  I laughed
softly, kinda admiring and amused; but then I thought another beat and
realized something, somewhere was still bothering you, tickling some sense
of yours that you might need it.  I shook my head.  Looked like you hadn't
on the flight, but always better to work with those feelings than not.

You spotted me.  A feeling ran through me, a feeling that warmed me
through, as your face lit up on seeing me.  I saw something similar soften
your eyes.  I smiled and half impatiently walked forward to hug you.  You
dropped your bags and came to me and buried your face in my shoulder...
and we hugged close and *tight*.  We automatically compensated for where
our pieces hung. We were both shaking slightly.

You started crying, softly.  While I really wanted to just hold you and
comfort you, we were directly in the stream of off-loading people and my
back felt terribly exposed.  I tugged you gently in the direction of one
of the short sections of wall in front of the floor to ceiling windows.
You nodded, let go, and picked up your bags, still crying silently, and we
moved to the other side of the short wall.

I tugged at your hand and said, softly, "Sit down..."

You sat and I sat kinda around you.  My left leg supporting your back, my
right under your knees and I pulled you close to me.  You put your right
arm inside, against my front, and you curled up and started just crying
softly on my left shoulder.  I held you close and kissed you on your hair
and watched the bright reflections in the glass opposite me.  The rain was
falling outside, a misting curtain under the spot lights lighting the
unloading of the plane.

Slowly, the storm of your tears passed.  You sniffled and gave me a wry
grin as I pulled out a couple of crumpled but clean tissues from the
pocket of my blue leather jacket.

The blurred arc of a barrel to the left.  I turned.  You moved as well,
but instead of trying to turn around, you placed your body so that it was
cover for mine and ducked your head to protect your hearing and clear my
line of sight.  Luckily, he hadn't made a pass to see where we were.  He
assumed we were standing.  He fired, first, over our heads.

I took him in the middle of the chest, in no mood to play.  I caught the
blur out of the corner of my eye and met your eyes straight on as your
head came up and you were drawing as I ducked my head and moved the small
angle to give you cover.  I wished that I'd at least been able to tell you
that I loved you when the bullet hit me in the back... and spattered you
with my blood.

Nothing showed on your face as you finished the draw and fired before my
body could fall against yours.  It had that completely blank look, the
mask of concentration.  You braced well for when I fell against you,
keeping your arm free.  That's about when I started hearing screaming and
an alarm or two.  When no further targets appeared you put the 9mm on
the ground next to you.  You then supported my upper body and helped me
lie back 'cause my stomach muscles weren't working.  You checked the
wound.  When your face didn't change I knew it was bad.

The bullet was through my right side.  My whole side was just numb.  The
exit hole was far nastier than the entrance, of course, and I started
getting shocky.  You put your trench over me to help keep me warm and
kissed me.  I tried kissing back but didn't know if you even felt it
because I was shaking so hard.

Security came.  Your Agency badge got them scrambling.  An ambulance team
showed up.  Things kinda blurred for me when they started putting needles
and tubes into me.  Everything flared with pain when they picked me up and
it felt like they pitched me onto the gurney.  Your slender hand slipped
into mine and I held on.  I remember the lights going by at regular
intervals.  I think I closed my eyes then 'cause the only link to the rest
of the world was through your hand.  Like usual, I shut everything down to
shut out the pain, but I worked to keep that link with you.

They must have given us some trouble at the security gate or something,
'cause I heard you just laying into someone or someones at one point and
we were stopped.  I wasn't thinking too clearly, but I really remember the
low level, non-verbal feeling and strange sorrow that rage always took you
further from me.  So I squeezed your hand, lightly.  I heard your voice
break and you squeezed back, and maybe something on your face convinced
whomever you were talking to or something, 'cause we started moving
again... fast.

Sirens and flashing lights and bumps that made me gasp and then cough
something thin and salty sweet into my mouth.  I was also having some
trouble breathing, like asthma but worse.  Through it all, the cool, hard
touch of your slender hand in mine, and, occasionally the soft touch of
your lips on my fingers.  You spoke about who the couple had been, loose
ends from your mission that were now tied up with finality.  You cursed
yourself for not having watched your back more closely.  I just closed my
hand, hard, on yours at that point and you stopped cursing yourself.

The ambulance stopped.  The clash of the doors opening, and another jolt
that made me hang onto your hand as they pulled the gurney out of the
ambulance.  Soft voices, the sharp scent of antiseptic and a rush of
brightnesses seen as slightly brighter reds behind my eyelids... and then
the agony of being moved from the gurney to a table, where I just *held*
onto you for dear life...

Your hand started to leave mine.  I think I was slightly ashamed when I
cried out, but you stayed.  I struggled to open my eyes, and finally got a
look at the operating theater.  It was the familiar Company operating
theater and I relaxed, security here was good.  One more thing.  I kept my
eyes open until I met yours.

"You're gonna make it." you said to me, fiercely.

I tried to nod and saw your eyes lighten again.  I managed to quirk the
corner of my lip up, and you kissed the quirk gently.

"Now, go to sleep and let 'em patch you?" you said and I closed my eyes
and relaxed.  You said a soft heh that made me want to smile at you again,
but I didn't have the energy.  I never felt your hand leave mine.

When I woke up in the convalescence room, you were holding my hand.  You
also had your head and arms on my bed, against my left side, and were
deeply asleep, still in your coat and the clothes I had seen you come off
the plane in.

For a moment, with your face relaxed and soft with sleep, you looked like
a child, one hand clutching the top blanket against your cheek.  You must
have had a chance to wash up 'cause I didn't see any blood on your face
anymore.  Then your eyes opened.  I am never entirely used to seeing the
startling grey-blue of your eyes, especially when they're completely
focused on me.  It made my breath catch even a bit more than the bandages
and stitches made it catch.  I grinned back at you, around the tube in my
mouth.

First things first.  The most unoriginal words in the world, funny how
they're sometimes so important to say.  I squeezed your hand and around
the tube, I said softly, "Lub eew."

You laughed softly and started crying again.  Carefully you let go of my
hand, leaned over me and hugged me gently, "Love you, too."

-----
Copyright 1994 by Phyllis L. Rostykus.  Permission granted for distribution 
via the usual Usenet channels and for archival.  All other rights reserved.
-- 
Liralen Li           | "Looking down on empty streets, all she can see are
li@inigo.Data-IO.com |  the dreams all made solid, are the dreams made real."
aka Phyllis Rostykus |  - "Mercy Street" by Peter Gabriel