(no title) (original) (raw)

Title: Don't Stop the Rain
Characters/Genre: Kono, Team, Gen
Words: 500+
Warnings: aftermath of violence, death
Rating: PG-13
Spoilers: None
Title & Lyrics: from James Morrison, Please Don't Stop the Rain

She’d lean on any of them in this moment for as long as she allowed herself, for as long as it took to feel okay and her again.

Feeling like you got no place to run I can be your shelter 'til it's done We can make this last forever So please don't stop the rain

She’d put up a fight, giving as good as she got…better even. Hands and fists flying in a kind of sense memory that always took over when adrenaline kicked in.

There was blood on her blouse. Not hers, she was quick to discover and disclaim, and there was a pride there that she knew was as far from normal as it was close to the truth.

She trembled slightly as she crouched on the cold cement, listening for the sound of sirens in the distance, knowing her team was close….would be there before she could regret. Until much later anyway when paperwork had been filed and meaningful glances had been dispelled.

She avoided looking in the direction of the body that was cooling beside her. His death had been quick, she was grateful for that. He hadn’t been a bad man just misguided. And she’d had little choice when she found herself staring down the barrel of a gun with none of her own.

She replayed the words and actions in her head just in case. What ifs and maybes slowly rotating around her as she began to shiver and shake. She shouldn’t allow doubt to creep in, but she was as soft in heart as she supposed everyone already believed. She allowed herself to care long enough to conclude she’d done what she could before he made the choice for her. She could sleep with that.

As they quickly approached, guns drawn and at the ready, she found herself smoothing her hair in an uncharacteristically girly moment, one that made her cringe as soon as it was accomplished. But she knew what she must look like and it both disgusted and thrilled her. She didn’t know which bothered her more.

She called out an I’m okay with a voice that sounded foreign and too shrill, so she cleared her throat and tried again. This time pushing and pulling until she sounded herself. Knowing she may only be fooling herself, but knowing that was okay. It was okay. She’d take it in lieu of anything more. She’d deal with the rest later when the questions would come, when she didn’t feel so damn tired and alive and frail and strong. Fucking alive with the fucking death surrounding her.

A hand reached out and she took it without even fully recognizing who it was, not even knowing if it really mattered at the moment. It could have been any of them, and that was okay as well. She’d lean on any of them in this moment for as long as she allowed herself, for as long as it took to feel okay and her again.

“Don’t worry about it, you look beautiful,” came the whispered words as she was wrapped in warmth.

And it wasn’t sexual or romantic or any of the things she didn’t even want.

It was comfort and caring and an understanding of what she needed.

In that moment she felt beautiful.

~end~