Ghost In The Shell: Stand Alone Complex Fan Fiction ❯ Lanslide ❯ Chapter 4 ( Chapter 4 )
[ Y - Young Adult: Not suitable for readers under 16 ]
By: AnaKhouri 
Anime/Manga: Ghost In The Shell: Stand Alone Complex Fan Fiction | Genre(s): Drama | Type: Other | Uploaded On: 01.23.2011 | Pages: 1 | Words: 934 | Visits: 169 | Status: Completed
Anime/Manga: Ghost In The Shell: Stand Alone Complex Fan Fiction | Genre(s): Drama | Type: Other | Uploaded On: 01.23.2011 | Pages: 1 | Words: 934 | Visits: 169 | Status: Completed
It was dark when she woke, but that didn't matter; her eyes adjusted in the moment before she opened them. She was in a simply furnished bedroom: dresser, bed, bookcase, closet door. A picture on the wall, Chagall. The blankets lay in a heap at the foot of the bed, and she was on top of the sheets, plain white, tucked in army-neat. The mattress was bowed in the center. Batou liked to sleep right in the middle, she guessed.
She rose and crossed to the open door. It led to the main room- a tiny kitchen and living space. More bookcases, a recliner, a Hiroshige print of Mount Fuji. A sliding-glass door led to the balcony. The long, gauzy drapes moved slightly with the breeze. For an instant she considered walking out the front door, leaving him to discover she was gone in a couple hours.
No. She still didn't want to be alone.
He leaned over the railing, watching the lights of the city below. The air was cold. The clouds had moved, and a few stars were visible, but the moon remained hidden.
He didn't look up as she crossed the balcony. She spoke first. "I'm surprised that railing holds you."
He tapped it with his knuckle. "Reinforced. How you feeling?"
She shrugged. "How long did I sleep?"
"Three hours. It's almost five a.m."
She leaned on the rail, facing the building. "You have a lot of stuff."
"Yeah." Batou flashed a sheepish smile. "I'm sentimental."
They were silent a moment. Kusanagi reached down to adjust her watch band. Her fingers lingered on the chill metal.
"Hey," She said suddenly. "Do you want to know about my watch?"
He frowned. "Do you want to tell me?"
Did she? She closed her eyes, breathed, decided. "Yes."
"Okay. I've been tormenting myself with curiosity for years, you know. I lie awake every night."
"My parents gave it to me." How many people knew that? Two, as of now.
"Really?" Obviously he hadn't expected that.
"I was a little kid when they died in a plane crash. I survived, they didn't. I had to go full prosthetic."
"Wow." His voice was laden with sympathy. "I had no idea."
"Few people do. When I turned eighteen, my parents' lawyer sent me the watch. They were planning to give it to me on my eighteenth birthday. They bought it when I was born."
"They must have loved you a lot."
"It doesn't even have my name on it. They were probably going to have it engraved or something, but they didn't have time." An ache developed at the back of her throat. She swallowed, but it didn't go away. "I forgot what they looked like, after a while. I forgot I ever had parents. Until I saw the other survivor."
"There was another one?"
"There was just one other survivor, a little boy. We lost touch, but I always knew he was out there, somewhere. I hadn't thought of him in years, same as my parents. Until I saw him again."
"Shit." He straightened up. "Kuze."
"Yeah. Now I'm the sole survivor."
"All alone."
"Yeah."
"Nah." He smiled, but there were worry lines between his eyes. "You have Section 9. And you have…Hell, never mind."a great wave of weariness struck her. She bowed her head, letting her hair fall forward and hide her face. She hoped he wouldn't notice she was blinking back tears. "I'm tired, Batou. I'm tired of Public Security, tired of all the drama and the bullshit. I'm tired of seeing the worst of people. I'm tired of not knowing who I am or if what I'm doing is right. I'm just tired."
She stared at her boots. When her eyes cleared a little, she noticed he was barefoot. For a long time he didn't reply. Finally she felt him change position. His feet turned to face her.
"Motoko."
She flinched. No one had said her given name in a long time. It was unbearably intimate. Reluctantly she lifted her gaze.
"It's okay to be tired." He said. "It's okay to need a break. Should I take on some of your responsibilities? Cover for you so you can have a vacation? Do you just want me to shut up and take you home? Tell me what you need me to do."
Before she could think better of it, she stood on her tiptoes, lifted her chin, and kissed him.
He stiffened at the contact, but didn't pull away. And when her balance wavered slightly, he brought both hands to her waist to steady her. His face was unreadable, but when she finally broke the kiss his voice was ragged. "Motoko-"
"I don't want to go home."
"You're still drunk." He said gently.
She didn't deny it. Instead, she put her hands against his chest, feeling the mechanical hum that wasn't a heartbeat but that matched her own. He was artificial. They both were. But his hands were warm on her skin.
Batou stooped until their foreheads touched. "Why me? Any person in this city would go append the night with you and be grateful for it. So why me?"
Because I'm safe with you. I trust you. But that wasn't it.
"Because you love me." She said softly, and kissed him again.
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She rose and crossed to the open door. It led to the main room- a tiny kitchen and living space. More bookcases, a recliner, a Hiroshige print of Mount Fuji. A sliding-glass door led to the balcony. The long, gauzy drapes moved slightly with the breeze. For an instant she considered walking out the front door, leaving him to discover she was gone in a couple hours.
No. She still didn't want to be alone.
He leaned over the railing, watching the lights of the city below. The air was cold. The clouds had moved, and a few stars were visible, but the moon remained hidden.
He didn't look up as she crossed the balcony. She spoke first. "I'm surprised that railing holds you."
He tapped it with his knuckle. "Reinforced. How you feeling?"
She shrugged. "How long did I sleep?"
"Three hours. It's almost five a.m."
She leaned on the rail, facing the building. "You have a lot of stuff."
"Yeah." Batou flashed a sheepish smile. "I'm sentimental."
They were silent a moment. Kusanagi reached down to adjust her watch band. Her fingers lingered on the chill metal.
"Hey," She said suddenly. "Do you want to know about my watch?"
He frowned. "Do you want to tell me?"
Did she? She closed her eyes, breathed, decided. "Yes."
"Okay. I've been tormenting myself with curiosity for years, you know. I lie awake every night."
"My parents gave it to me." How many people knew that? Two, as of now.
"Really?" Obviously he hadn't expected that.
"I was a little kid when they died in a plane crash. I survived, they didn't. I had to go full prosthetic."
"Wow." His voice was laden with sympathy. "I had no idea."
"Few people do. When I turned eighteen, my parents' lawyer sent me the watch. They were planning to give it to me on my eighteenth birthday. They bought it when I was born."
"They must have loved you a lot."
"It doesn't even have my name on it. They were probably going to have it engraved or something, but they didn't have time." An ache developed at the back of her throat. She swallowed, but it didn't go away. "I forgot what they looked like, after a while. I forgot I ever had parents. Until I saw the other survivor."
"There was another one?"
"There was just one other survivor, a little boy. We lost touch, but I always knew he was out there, somewhere. I hadn't thought of him in years, same as my parents. Until I saw him again."
"Shit." He straightened up. "Kuze."
"Yeah. Now I'm the sole survivor."
"All alone."
"Yeah."
"Nah." He smiled, but there were worry lines between his eyes. "You have Section 9. And you have…Hell, never mind."a great wave of weariness struck her. She bowed her head, letting her hair fall forward and hide her face. She hoped he wouldn't notice she was blinking back tears. "I'm tired, Batou. I'm tired of Public Security, tired of all the drama and the bullshit. I'm tired of seeing the worst of people. I'm tired of not knowing who I am or if what I'm doing is right. I'm just tired."
She stared at her boots. When her eyes cleared a little, she noticed he was barefoot. For a long time he didn't reply. Finally she felt him change position. His feet turned to face her.
"Motoko."
She flinched. No one had said her given name in a long time. It was unbearably intimate. Reluctantly she lifted her gaze.
"It's okay to be tired." He said. "It's okay to need a break. Should I take on some of your responsibilities? Cover for you so you can have a vacation? Do you just want me to shut up and take you home? Tell me what you need me to do."
Before she could think better of it, she stood on her tiptoes, lifted her chin, and kissed him.
He stiffened at the contact, but didn't pull away. And when her balance wavered slightly, he brought both hands to her waist to steady her. His face was unreadable, but when she finally broke the kiss his voice was ragged. "Motoko-"
"I don't want to go home."
"You're still drunk." He said gently.
She didn't deny it. Instead, she put her hands against his chest, feeling the mechanical hum that wasn't a heartbeat but that matched her own. He was artificial. They both were. But his hands were warm on her skin.
Batou stooped until their foreheads touched. "Why me? Any person in this city would go append the night with you and be grateful for it. So why me?"
Because I'm safe with you. I trust you. But that wasn't it.
"Because you love me." She said softly, and kissed him again.
Converting /tmp/phpEiS4oA to /dev/stdout