The Innocent (A 'Finder' Fanfiction)

Shadow of Pluto - 44 - Mikhail

There was a low, quiet buzz around. Very much as if some enormous creature had put him into its mouth and was humming a melody. But that idea was ridiculous, he thought. He was a bit too tall for that. And he would definitely not have allowed any strange, giant monster to swallow him.

Wearily, he raised his hand to the wall on his right, which felt and looked very much like an eggshell. It was just as pale, just as smooth, ... and pretty cold. And it was very slightly vibrating. It was then that he slowly became aware that a moment ago he had been dreaming, and that now he was gradually awakening.

The humming was not that of a gigantic animal, he soon realized, but of two engines. The smooth shell around him was not that of an egg, but of an aircraft in which the window shades had been closed. As a matter of fact, it was a very pretty aircraft, with accents of polished chrome, with beige leather seats, a thick ornament carpet, and glossy walnut wood veneer. It was a Bombardier Global 7500 with a private suite in the rear of the cabin, which gave the owner privacy from the other passengers.

Mikhail found himself lying on his back, his fingers still attached to the slightly buzzing outer wall. Some pillows of the extraordinarily expensive Frette Doppio Ajour bedding had been put between him and that shell, which felt indeed quite chilly to his touch – as if to shield him from the cold. The lamps in the suite had been dimmed and due to the pulled down window shades, there was not much light left. Yet, he was able to spot the IV bag that had been hung from the shelf above the bed, which was filled with books on Asian culture and history – and the tube that connected the bag with the butterfly syringe that stuck in the back of his hand.

Slowly he lifted his arm a bit more, to eye the white band-aid and the pink, winged handle of the infusion set.

'Ah', he felt his mind make, when memory slowly returned. It was still a bit hazy, though, and so was he.

He was not even sure if the motions he felt now and then were turbulence or something like that, or probably just dizziness.

But he did not manage to become really concerned about that anyway, when he turned his head to look around.

Someone lay next to him ... lay on his side, with his forehead resting against Mikhail's shoulder, with the fingers of one of his hands curling around his broad biceps.

Black strands had fallen into Fei Long's face and almost the blonde man had reached over to brush them away gently, when he had felt – and therefore remembered – the IV tube. He'd probably not reach the man without ripping on the needle. And if he moved his other arm, the Chinese would very likely wake up. That, however, Mikhail did not want.

Right now, all he wanted to do, was so watch how for once Fei Long seemed at peace with himself and this tiring reality. How his long lashes and black hair shimmered like the finest silk, even though there was so little light around. How his shoulders moved slowly with each breath.

It was a fucking cold, cruel and hateful world, Mikhail had had to learn early in his life. It was also a wondrous and beautiful one, and he wanted to be a part of it, no matter how hard he had to fight for maintaining that right.

A year back, he had nothing but dreamed of ever being allowed to touch Fei Long. Half a year ago, they had made a deal, which Mikhail would for the rest of his days regret and celebrate at the same time. It had been a disgusting suggestion, a vile idea of a trade; it had also been a proposal which had sprung from the deepest, most hopeful and gullible spot in his heart. And it had been a start ...

Today for once, their places were exchanged: Mikhail lay on his back, Fei Long on his side, and the Chinese's fingers held on to the Russian's arm as if he was afraid that the other might sneak out and steal himself away. Not that there was anywhere Mikhail actually could go, at this moment. Not that he wanted to!