Title: He watches me.
Notes: Haven't seen much, but here's a story I wrote while waiting for my sister. Sorry for anything that's out of character. Unbeta'd. And it's for you know who!
Summary: A response to the opening line challenge "he watches me."
He watches me all the time. Constantly. I'll feel the base of my throat tingling and turn ... and find myself staring into warm brown eyes. He doesn't even turn away or offer an apology at being caught staring. He just smiles one of those infinitely gentle smiles he does and softly says my name. Just my name -- one syllable that sounds so sweet when heard in the rich timber of his voice. Sometimes he lifts a big hand to me throat -- the touch at once soothing me and spreading fire along my nerves. How can any man -- alien or no -- cause me to react with such an innocent touch?
The watching began when he first came here, to a planet alien to him that he needed to protect from criminals that had escaped from his world. I took him under my wing -- gave him clothes, a rood over his head, fed him, taught him to fit in with humans -- these strange inhabitants of the planet Earth. The watching made sense then -- he was watching my behavior, mannerisms, the way I reacted.
Only he knows why he watches me now. Why he never stopped.
It still shocks me to think of the chance I took -- allowing an underwear-clad hitchhiker into my car. Bringing him home and letting him live with me. I always have been a sucker for a do-gooder -- I guess my weakness isn't limited to Human do-gooders. No, not my weakness. My strength. I have to remember that.
Irene always told me that great things would happen to me because of my beliefs. I wonder if she was picturing a gorgeous six-foot-tall alien cop/prison guard with gentle eyes and soothing hands when she said that? Somehow I doubt it.
But for the first time in my life... I believe it. I believe that something great is happening and that I'm affecting it somehow. Or it's affecting me.
Everyone has noticed it -- the watching, I mean. The women tell me what a hunk he is and how lucky I am. Their curiosity is completely overflowing -- who is he? Why is he here? Am I involved with him? They've been asking variations of those questions since the beginning. I think they've stopped, though. They may have finally given up on getting answers and are now only asking to tease. It doesn't stop them from making comments.
It's strange, how much knowing him has changed me. How much my life has changed ... period. Things I never dreamed possible... I now know are true. And things that I believed with my whole heart turned out to be false. You'd think the changes would scare me -- anyone who really knows me would expect it -- but they don't. Not really.
I am scared -- I haven't changed that much! I'm scared of the fugitives, of what they'll do to my plant -- to me -- if he can't stop them. But I'm not scared of him. It would be impossible to be frightened by him. If anything... I'm scared for him.
He's so alone. I'm here for him, but I know I'm not much help. He's the only Tracker on the planet -- sent to capture two-hundred-and-eighteen dangerous criminals on his own. He has no idea who he can trust -- who's safe and who isn't. He's surrounded on all sides by possible threats, by people who could betray him. I know I won't -- but others?
I live in fear every day -- especially when he's not here with me -- that this is the day that ends it all. That this is the day he's killed or captured -- by someone Human or one of the aliens.
I don't know what I'll do when -- if -- that day finally comes.
So I do what I can ... and he watches me whenever he's here. And it flusters me -- as always. But I don't ask him what his reasons are -- because they're his own. Or to stop -- because it means he's still here.
Reviews are welcome!