He was wonderful. He was brilliant. He was daring, compassionate, and suave. He was alive with just the exhilaration of running for his life, and he had invited her along for the ride. He would smile recklessly as he straightened his lace cuffs and convinced her yet again to join him on one of his crazy ventures. Every heart-stopping moment every breath-taking vision was being stored away in her writer's memory as she tagged along with this amazing man from the stars. If he ever noticed that her heart fluttered up into her throat every time he gave her one of his rare sweet touches, or pierced her with one of his knowing gazes, though, he never let her know.
He always tried to leave her in a safe place when he knowingly strode towards death, but who would protect him if she wasn't there? It happened too often. She watched as he threw himself toward danger with no regard for himself—with no thought as to what losing him would do to her—for the sake of the "bigger picture". Sometimes she felt as if she wanted the "bigger picture" to go to hell if the cost of it to her was him. Those thoughts were always short-lived of course. They were fighting for the people, after all, not for themselves. Knowing that didn't quench the gut-wrenching fear she had every time he nearly died in front of her eyes for a civilization of people that never seemed to want their help.
There were times when they parted that she would ask herself if that was a last goodbye. The only thing she could hope for was that they re-united and she had the chance to see those grey eyes once again.