A/N: Having finished rewatching DtB and Ryuusei no Gemini, it got me thinking about how Misaki seems to always be fated to pursue BK-201 but never reach him. It somehow reminded me of the white stag myth, and this little ficlet came from that.


Unwind.

This wasn't her. This wasn't like her at all. Without glasses on, the world was a lot less clear, seemed a lot less dangerous. Without glasses on, she felt as though she wasn't herself; there was no conflict between world powers or Contractors.

Shedding the work clothes and donning a black skirt and a simple top, her eyebrows furrowed at her reflection as she undid the tie on her hair. Shaking her head at what she saw allowed for the long dark hair to flow freely.

Maybe letting herself go just like this, she could forget what she was after for a brief moment. What her life had become after Tokyo had been taken over, after BK-201's star once more lit up the sky . What she had been chasing after, ever elusive, ever out of reach: her own mythical white stag, the star that she hunted.

In the dark, in the dance floor, she moved. Without glasses on, the men she danced with all had that unruly black hair and blue eyes. They all blended together to form the face forever etched in her mind. For this moment, she let herself go.

.

He drifted, nowhere to turn, nowhere to go. Theirs was a circle: she chased, he ran. He looked behind, paused, urging her, beckoning for her to continue on. The Black Reaper, her white stag. Short of reaching out his hand, he instead sent a challenge through the dark gaze hidden behind the mask. Come. Find me.

More alone now than ever, it seemed he was cursed. All the women in his life that he had once been close to were now dead. Pai. Amber. Yin.

Irrationally, the thought crossed his mind that since her name was not a colour, maybe she had a modicum of chance.

The hunted followed his hunter and watched from afar.

Unconsciously, his hand clenched as he watched her dance like nobody was watching. Without those glasses, it seemed as though she herself had donned a mask. Those eyes were less piercing, more yielding, but still seeking.

Now and then, she'd drink. A muscle in his jaw ticked. She should know better.

When she'd had enough, she stumbled out of the dark, out into the night, clutching her coat around her. A small electric spark from him took care of any men that followed her.

His hunter remained oblivious to her own prey trailing after her.

.

She clasped her head, leaning against the wall. This was what happened to her when she decided to let go, even just once. The world swam and tilted ― did she fall? She felt as though she floated and then was caught. The night sky suddenly grew close and filled her vision. Her eyes narrowed against that misshapen white moon with the lightning running down one side, her hand reaching up to something she thought she would never attain.

It faded to black before she could touch it.

.

He prowled the streets that night, the weight on his back slightly comforting. His feet took him to where home had been the last few days. He gently laid down his load on the narrow bed, turning to gaze at his captured hunter, a black-gloved hand feeling the pulse at her throat.

Her eyes were open, but unseeing of her surroundings, lids fluttering until through the haze of her mind she managed to focus on him. Once again her hand rose, fingertips grazing against the white mask.

His hold on her neck tightened; he felt her pulse jump as though he had sent his electricity through her.

Gently, her fingers hooked under the mask, touched his skin briefly before pulling the mask from his face. His head moved to accommodate her, taking the mask with his other hand, her fingers never leaving his cheek.

"Li-kun," she whispered, and his eyes narrowed, the hand on her neck tightened fractionally. "Hei." Softly, she uttered, like a sigh, her hand turning to cup his cheek before pulling him down to rest against her chest. His hold loosened, and tightened again, this time encompassing her form against him.

"You're not alone."

.

.

.

.

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Thanks for reading :)
Oct/2010