It's Okay

Sometimes, we just need to be told.

This one revolves around Anemone, Dominic and what is spoken into a starry, starry night.

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"...did it hurt?"

The girl slowly turned her head so that her field of vision now included the shadowy outline of the stoic, dark-haired boy by her side, all while expecting an immediate and reassuring answer. But when the boy – whom she nowadays thought of as exclusively her boy – remained silent, a pair of pink brows furrowed with annoyance over the blatant inattention, and she only narrowly resisted the urge to reach out and flick him on the forehead.

"Hey! Dominic! I'm talking to you!"

"Huh? Oh, I'm sorry, Anemone. My mind was somewhere else entirely..." the boy mumbled as the corners of his mouth gently curled upwards apologetically. "Hmm, it's such a beautiful night. I'm glad we came."

As they were sitting on top of Dominic's trusty motorcycle, surrounded on all sides by lush forest and open skies and with the Moon and the stars high above their heads, she couldn't help but to agree wholeheartedly. It really was beautiful. But it wasn't the scenery, the chorus of steadily chirping crickets, or even Gulliver's familiar weight over her legs that made her feel strangely warm inside. It was him.

It had always been him; and at the sound of his voice, a lump had formed at the base of her throat and she could practically feel her irritation melt away under his calm gaze. She had experienced it so many times in the past, yet his steel-coloured eyes had lost none of their spellbinding power; and their devastating effect on her hadn't lessened even the slightest.

She suspected that those eyes could make her forgive him anything.

That said, 'anything' did in no way equate to 'everything', and she liked to think that she had made that particular distinction perfectly clear at the very beginning of her weird and wonderful journey together with Dominic Sorel. Namely, if he ever – ever – dared to let his mind venture anywhere near even the most miniscule and remote shadow of a thought about getting some (naturally) half-assed replacement for her...

Oh man, would she make him regret it.

Because that boy and his notoriously bad sense of direction (he was a field officer – one of the best, apparently – and still he managed to get lost on his way to just about anything. And when he had let it slip that he remembered the four cardinal directions by referring to cutlery of all things, she had laughed so hard that she thought that her diaphragm would give out), seeming inability to grasp even the basics to the meaning of 'personal space' (though, she had to admit that he was learning), infuriating stubbornness, and worst of all, appalling recklessness (seriously, who in his right mind willingly threw himself into a collapsing hole with his only backup plan consisting of a reflection board, which he later admitted to having no idea of how to actually use? who did that?); all those little strange quirks that sometimes conspired to drive her up the walls – but which were what truly made Dominic into the adorable goof that he was – belonged to her, and she'd be damned (and he would be too, she would make sure of that) if they ever slipped through the fingers that seemed to fit his so perfectly. She had almost lost him once, and she was painfully aware of the fact that this time around there would be no TheEND to save them if they fell apart again.

And so without realizing it, she had started to drift off into her own thoughts, only to be brought back to the cool, starry night by a gentle nudge to her shoulder.

"Anemone? You're not falling asleep on me, are you?" He watched the immobile shape by his side, its cascading flow of softly glowing pink securely anchored on his left shoulder, with a small, content smile playing on his lips.

It was odd that someone who had seen so much death and experienced so much pain could radiate such warmth and peace. If only she knew what power she held over him; all it took for his poor heart to skip a beat was a quick glance in his direction, the faintest touch of her hand, or just a hint of her smile.

Because Anemone really had the most stunning smile; she unleashed its full power only very rarely, but its sparkle increased her beauty tenfold if that even was possible. Though, as much as he enjoyed basking in its brilliance, he was secretly very glad – and exceedingly grateful – that Anemone never did anything too heart-tuggingly adorable around other people (other men to be specific), because it made his task of fending off the competition so much easier.

God only knew that he had enough problems with that as it was.

Now, Dominic Sorel didn't think of himself as particularly prone to jealousy or anything of the sort – really, he wasn't! In fact, all things considered, Dominic thought himself quite reasonable and not without compassion for the plights of others. That was, of course, provided that the plights in question did not involve the wooing a certain (and thankfully blissfully unaware so far) beautiful pink-haired girl.

Why, oh why – and he really wished that someone would take pity upon him and kindly offer an explanation for this irritating phenomena, as well as advising him on how to most effectively make it go far, far away – couldn't the infuriating fools (especially the ones around eighteen-nineteen years of age; these being, in his experience, particularly cocky bastards possessing little to no regard for personal space or self-preservation) who insisted on pestering the angel by his side with their suspicious puppy eyes, lecherous winks and other vulgarities that Dominic didn't even want to think about, get it through their thick skulls that his Anemone was strictly off-limits and that they therefore would do best in keeping their filthy paws (and minds) well away from her general vicinity? Really now, was that too much to ask for? It wasn't an impossible request, surely.

Honestly. It made perfect sense to him, anyway.

Dominic sighed to himself at himself. Surely, this kind of skewed logic couldn't be healthy at any level and yet…

Oh, heck. Who was he even kidding?

Back at the barracks, his older and more 'experienced' comrades had used a specific word to describe people in his exact situation, and which they had thrown around with the same jovial, careless ease as they did insults, jokes and the occasional throwing knives (depending on preference and situation, of course). The term in question was 'whipped' and although he hadn't quite grasped its full implication back then, it had never seemed more appropriate (or pin-pointedly accurate) than it did right this moment. Dominic Sorel was indeed utterly and completely whipped by the strange powers of the seemingly sleeping lump by his side. She had him eating out of the palm of her flawless hand, securely wrapped around her delicate little finger. He had gone to the ends of the earth (or at least to the centre of it, in any case) to protect her and he would gladly do the same all over again, did the opportunity ever present itself.

Of course, that was not to say that he would much prefer if it didn't. There were far more romantic (and safer) ways of expressing one's never-dying love and devotion than during a free-fall towards certain death. Although, admittedly, that kiss had more than made up for it...

Well. Speaking of (or rather thinking about) the little angel, he had to admit that her head was getting rather heavy as it rested on him and that his shoulder was beginning to go a bit numb under her (feathery) weight, so he decided to gently shake some life back into her.

"Anemone, if you're tired, there are more comfortable places to sleep than on my shoulder," he whispered into her hair. "...Anemone? Oh, so you are awake after all. And here I thought you had given up on me and fallen asleep."

"Of course I'm awake! Don't be so stupid, Dominic," she huffed indignantly, her pride barely stifling a yawn. "I said that I'd watch the stars with you, didn't I? Besides, there's no way that I could ever fall asleep on you. Your shoulder is way too bony to be comfortable."

Too bony, huh.

Though decidedly displeased by her verdict, Dominic decided against pursuing that most unfair gibe about his physique, correctly dismissing it as her special way of communicating. In any case, in all the years that he had known her, the angel by his side had said far, far more disturbing things than that. "Um, anyway, didn't you say something earlier?"

"Did it hurt?" she repeated, slower this time. Her voice was somewhat muffled as she had turned her head into his chest, steadily breathing in his scent. She hadn't thought about the incident since it happened and she didn't really want to ask him about it… But then she had noticed the scar as their heads collided when they put up the tent earlier in the day, and its presence had brought back memories of the many cuts, marks and bruises she had left on him. And it carried with it painful feelings of guilt and the echoes of more cruelty and insanity than she thought was humanly possible.

His scar had reminded her of a wild animal, caged and beaten, fearless and blood-thirsty, savage and uncontrollable. It had reminded her of a monster.

And she was that monster.

Although the cage had been forced open and the beast set free, she was afraid that the blood-lust would remain buried within her for as long as she lived – and that, one day, it would take over. If that happened, who knew what she would be capable of doing, or how far she would go?

"Did what hurt?" he countered offhandedly, but not quite managing to conceal the concern that had crept into his voice.

He hated it when Anemone slipped into one of her occasional moods. She would get this indescribably vacant look in her eyes, which told him that she had retreated into her own world where even he couldn't reach her, no matter how hard he tried. It was so frustrating and utterly tormenting to be forced to stand by and watch as the girl who he had loved and still loved more than anything (possibly more than could be considered to be normal. Of course, that was when not including Renton Thurston and his Eureka in the comparative analysis: the engravings on the glowing sphere in the night sky said as much. Though, personally, Dominic thought that the declaration, however grand, perhaps was a bit... much, perhaps?), suffered from the memories of horrors of a magnitude that he couldn't even begin to imagine. As much as he wanted to and has hard as he tried, he accepted – albeit regretfully – that there were some burdens he could never shoulder in her stead, pain he could never hope to alleviate and memories he could never share with her. He hated the feeling of helplessness that accompanied this knowledge: all he could do was to be there when she needed him, love and reassure her, and attempt to answer her cryptic questions to the best of his ability; even when he knew that his best wouldn't be anywhere near good enough.

But tonight he sensed that the sudden query hadn't been brought on by yet another series of introspective musings. Still, the feeling of melancholy refused to leave him. So he simply waited for her to continue of her own accord; waited and watched… as usual.

"That," she whispered, at long last.

She had detached herself from him completely and her unnaturally large eyes were studying him solemnly, while a slender arm reached towards his face, thin fingers cautiously tracing the faint outlines of a scar that he had nearly forgotten. Instinctively, he brought his own hand to the side of his lip, lightly brushing over the small irregularity.

"Oh." Dominic repressed a heavy sigh as the unfortunate memories surrounding his first (and horribly failed) attempt to kiss her floated to the surface of his consciousness. Those particular fragments of sound, taste, smell and touch made him cringe with embarrassment every time he had the misfortune to come across them – not only had she flatly rejected his advances, but she had bit him. Hard. "...uh, it hurt a bit, I guess."

"I see." She sensed his discomfort, and though she couldn't know what had actually caused him to twitch or why the tone of his voice changed, she was not without imagination. Her fingers immediately ceased their exploration of his face and she quickly withdrew her hand, which then fell into her jeans-clad lap dejectedly. "I have caused you so much pain, haven't I."

She refused to look at him, instead focusing on the snoring Gulliver. A thick curtain of hair hid the turmoil of emotions that he knew would be visible in her eyes – and which he also knew she still didn't quite know how to handle.

This was not good. Not good at all and he was panicking now. Do something, Dominic, he urged himself. Do something to make it better! Say something to make her stop hurting!

"Ah, but it wasn't that bad. I mean, eh, I have a pretty high pain threshold, you know," he said at last, hoping that he hadn't given her enough time to mull over something else. "Really, it was just my pride that got a bit bruised and—"

"Dominic, please, could you just... just stop. Just stop talking."

"I'm sorry, I—"

"You're not the one who's supposed to apologize, you idiot! I'm the one who should be sorry. And I am. I really, really am. I'm so, so sorry! Not just for that, but for everything. I was horrible to you, wasn't I? I hurt you over and over, and every time I... Every time I piloted TheEND, I killed someone, and I... I... I think I enjoyed it! Dominic, I enjoyed—"

"It wasn't your fault. Anemone, everything that happened back then, all those things that Dewey made you do, it wasn't the real you. That was the drugs and—"

"That's not true. You know that's not true." Truly, she didn't know whether to laugh or cry at his earnest defence of her. Dominic, her dear darling Dominic, had put her on a pedestal and she was so, so afraid to fall from its great height. Still, she had to try to make him understand. "The girl who did all those things – the girl who piloted TheEND, that girl – she was me, is me and she's still here, somewhere inside. You can't see her right now, but I feel her and she's... She's laughing at me! That girl... She frightens me, Dominic! I'm so afraid that she'll come back some day and that I won't be able to control her! I can't help but thinking what if I hurt you again? What if—"

"We'll deal with that if it happens," he stated, firmly putting an end to her ramblings. "We'll think of something together."

"Together..." She was desperate to believe the kindness she found in dark eyes glittering at her in the night. "You mean you would still...? Even when knowing what I am? What I could do to you?"

"Of course I would." He extended his right hand which came to rest on her cheek, but when it slid down to the receptor permanently embedded in her soft flesh, she let out a small whimper and tried to move away from his touch. It wasn't that it was a particularly sensitive area in the physical sense – countless operations and injections had since long rendered that part of her body dull and unresponsive – but the metal was a painful reminder of the fear and paranoia that had washed over her before the drugs stopped her from feeling anything at all.

"Dominic, I don't… I don't deserve all this. A person like me doesn't deserve anything."

Her reaction tore at his heart and he knew that she didn't like to be reminded of the past, but he didn't withdraw his hand. Instead, he slowly caressed the skin around the sleek devise, as he struggled to put his feelings into words.

"It's... okay," he began hesitantly, but soon gaining the confidence to continue. "It's okay to want to live, to want to be happy; it's okay to want to move on and build something new. It might be difficult and hurt at first, but you're not alone anymore. I'll be here, no matter what, for as long as you want me to, because... because I love you, Anemone. And nothing will ever, ever change that."

She couldn't help but to smile at the sight of the series of small creases which had appeared on the smooth skin between his eyebrows, indicating that Dominic Sorel was serious. This was why he alone meant so much to her: all this warmth, innocence, wisdom, patience, kindness and selflessness blended so perfectly into one single human being.

He continued to gaze at her thoughtfully as he absentmindedly brushed aside a stubborn lock of dark brown hair that was obstructing his view of her, and she silently lamented the fact that his hand no longer was in contact with her face. Somehow, she always felt so much colder without him.

"...I can't hear you," she murmured, hoping that he might remember.

"Which part?" he smiled, indeed recollecting just how she forced him to come out into the open and finally declare his feelings for her – all while they both were rapidly plunging towards their deaths. It wasn't exactly the scenario he had envisioned for his eventual confession, but what happened afterwards was pretty damn wonderful and well worth the multi-million price tag that came along with all the destroyed equipment, the narrow escape from her close-range Vascud Crisis and the uncomfortable free-fall that still made him sick to his stomach when he thought about it for too long.

"The last part... I didn't quite catch the last part."

The way that her large, expressive eyes seemed to beg for closeness and understanding almost broke his heart.

Love me, they me. Love me. Please.

"Ah, I see..." He leaned in towards her, slowly and teasingly and her eyes widened a fraction as they regarded him in open surprise. It wasn't like him to be so playful, he knew, but he also knew what she wanted from him and he would give it to her, only not quite yet. "You still can't hear me?"

"...no."

She reminded him of a hummingbird. Even though they were no longer touching, he could almost feel how she quivered with anticipation.

"And now?"

She shivered as a finger suddenly traced the outline of her proud, defiant jawbone, not stopping until it was nestled under her chin. They were about the same height (although she wondered why it took her so long to notice that he actually was a bit taller than her), so there was no real, practical need for her to tilt her head back when he kissed her, but for some unexplainable reason she liked it that way. But as she looked into his clear eyes, softly illuminated by the glow of a million stars, she decided that she liked it because he let her.

And that was very important. So what if she still was a bit insecure about how to deal with 'normal' things, and that she had the tendency to be a bit selfish, and perhaps, sometimes, a little on the clingy side, and maybe – just maybe – even a tad needy. Even so, she still had him with her. Sometimes, it puzzled her how Dominic didn't seem to mind, but she was thankful that he didn't.

Then, after what felt like an eternity and when she thought that her patience finally would run out, she felt his lips brushing against hers, gently and carefully. Tonight, there were no teasing demands embedded in his kiss, only warmth and reassurance, and as they broke apart she marvelled over how someone as wonderful as he could possibly love someone as tainted as she.

"What about now?" he breathed into her ear expectantly.

I love you. I love you. I love you. Mine. Mine. Mine.

"I can hear you perfectly," she murmured back, to which she could feel him smile against her skin before wrapping an arm around her and possessively pulling her closer.

"Good."

Disclaimer: I do not own Eureka Seven. Sadly.