The Sun to my Moon

Chapter 21: Comfort

His memory was hazy, afterwards, about how he'd gotten to his car. Cha Dal-geon didn't remember leaving the bullpen. He had a vague recollection of taking the stairs three at a time—the thought of waiting for the elevator was unimaginable.

He did remember driving his car through the streets of Seoul, running every red light between the NIS and Go Hae-ri's apartment at seventy miles an hour.

He parked somewhat askew in front of a fire hydrant, and sprinted up the front walk to her apartment. He punched in some familiar lucky codes in the keypads and tried to open it, but to no avail. Dimly it occurred to him that it was a good sign that the front door was locked and she often changes the passcode, but he was beyond reason at this point. He pounded on the door wildly with fist and open palm after ringing the bell twice.

He called her name, half yelling, half sobbing. "Hae-ri Go! Ya! Hae-ri Go!!"

It was taking an eternity for her to answer.

He couldn't bear the waiting. He reached in his pocket for his pistol, nearly dropping it in his haste. He drew the gun out, but when he tried to shoot the door, his hands were shaking too badly for him to have any hope of success opening it.

The door swung open and Hae-ri was there, sleep-tousled and barefoot, her oversized Pokemon shirt slipping off one shoulder and her gun dangling from one hand.

She did not look happy to see him. "What the hell, Cha Dal-geon? Michyeosseo!?" she complained, disarming him by slapping his hand away from her face before grabbing his gun. "Ya! Do you have any idea what kind of scene you were about to do? I have neighbors, you know."

Dal-geon hurried inside and bolted the door behind him.

"Somebody better be dead," she grumbled, setting her gun down on the desk by the door beside the pistol that was pointed at her just seconds ago.

She had barely gotten the words out before he closed the distance between them and crushed her to him.

She stiffened. "Dal-geonssi? What's going on?"

He couldn't answer right away. He just held her to him, breathing in her familiar enticing scent, savoring the feel of having her cranky, warm softness in his arms, the life thrumming through her.

Hae-ri put her arms around him automatically, sensing his anxiety through the desperation of his hold on her and instinctively seeking to comfort him despite the fact that she had no idea what had upset him so badly. "Cha Dal-geon, jinjja, what's going on?" A note of tension crept into her voice. "Nobody actually died, did they?"

He shook his head mutely, but didn't relinquish his hold on her.

She relaxed against him. "Dahaeng-ida."

His heart was beating wildly against his ribcage and he was sure she could feel it thumping erratically against her own chest.

"Ya, gwaenchana?" she said softly, tightening her arms around him. "It's going to be okay, Dal-geonssi."

Dal-geon drew a ragged breath and buried his face in her neck, trying to get control of himself. Hae-ri was fine. He'd made it in time. She was fine.

"Shh," she murmured, bringing one hand up to stroke the back of his head, her fingertips tangling in his hair. "It's gonna be fine." She continued on in this vein, making soothing noises and murmuring soft words of reassurance without knowing what, exactly, she was reassuring him about.

He listened to her voice and felt her steady heartbeat beneath his. He breathed when she breathed, and eventually his panic subsided to the extent that he could fractionally loosen his hold on her.