FSE

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"Love does not request, love provides" - Norbert Harms

Commander North was having one hell of a time. Russian fighters were hitting them from all sides, puffs of black smoke exploding all around the aircraft. Their carrier was already severely damaged and smouldering below. Bending down to check his altitude he saw something shimmer in his mirrors like sunlight on water. A light went on in the cockpit followed by a beeping noise. "Tuxedo, break right!" Instantly his plane banked hard right just as an AIM-9 darted past the window and vanished in the distance in a plume of white smoke. "Zombie, we're right on target, deploy all available hardpoints!" said a female voice over the radio but North waited before he did anything. "Zombie, what the hell?! We're aligned, fire!" screamed the voice, it's distressed tone worrying him. But this was war, and god damn it all to hell if North wasn't going to do it his way. Just a little more, he told himself as he watched a green box engulf a smaller, red one. They intersected and another beep blared in the cockpit, this one louder and more penetrating. North pushed a button down, bullets of sweat falling off his forehead and staining his visor. The Mirage shook as all of its payload deployed at once, shooting forth from under the wings. "Tuxedo, pull hard up! We're already low as it is!" He bellowed into his microphone. "Roger that, Zombie Lead, pulling up." They shot up and into the sky. Several loud explosions echoed beneath the aircraft as North pumped his gloved fist in the air. "This is Wing Lead 3, Fox 2 tracked until impact, all connected. Vectoring to Baseplate, clear the deck." With a flick of his index finger, he lifted his visor and wiped the sweat out of his eyes. "Eat shit, Rooskies!" Tuxedo chimed in as they banked left and approached the carrier. The remainder of their wing was already on final. North rested his hands in his lap as he activated the weapons lock. Tuxedo gently swayed the aircraft towards the deck, adjusting the trims on final. Seconds before they touched down, Michael tumbled head over heels into the cockpit via the stairs.

Both Liz and North looked to the side in an instant in hopes of finding the source of the offending noise. The cockpit, the carrier, the victory, damn near everything, froze instantly and was replaced by the humdrum of the living room. There was Michael in all his glory, lying on his back, squealing. His wings were limp by his side, the knees of his maroon trousers staining with blood. Looking up the stairs and to where Michael came from was not a pretty sight. Claw marks dotted the walls and the stairs as the bird tried desperately to stop himself rolling head-first into the hardwood floor. Liz muttered an "Oh my god" and ran over to him. The moment he saw her, he sat up and grabbed his head, shaking it from side to side as if to say that he's fine. Judging by his split eyebrow and the blood that poured into his eyes from said split, reality was quite a bit different from fantasy. North simply put his controller down and walked over to his now moaning friend. Liz's mouth hung open in disbelief. Michael tried to stand up but just ended up falling back down, blood spilling down the collar of his white shirt.

"Jesus Christ, North." Liz said, turning to the bemused looking cat "Don't just stand there! We need to get him to an ER. He could have broken something!" Before she could add anything else North departed her field of vision and entered the kitchen. Of course the idiot had to get himself banged up tonight, just when he was making himself comfortable with the newcomer, North muttered to himself as he rummaged through the pockets of Michael's tuxedo. Meanwhile, Liz was still in shock. She had always viewed birds as graceful, acrobatic creatures. This idiot was throwing himself down flights of stairs for mysterious reasons. Glancing past Michael's head, she noticed a cord running through a hallway. That was the charging cord of her laptop that sat on her bed. A pang of guilt hit her and she bit her lip. Just beneath her, Michael was looking straight into her breasts, wondering who this angel was that came to his rescue.

"Michael, you..." She began but stopped herself halfway through just as her fingers were about to loosen his tie. There was something oddly attractive in his eyes, one blue and one green. Something magnetic almost. They rolled back in his head and he began to fall backwards, mumbling to himself. Liz threw herself forward and embraced him, holding him up so he doesn't fall. Michael grabbed fistfuls of her clothes, trying to steady himself. Drunkenly he rolled around in her arms. From his point of view, he had died and gone to heaven. Or he was just about to wake up from what could be called the greatest nightmare of his life. As for Liz, she found herself kneeling in front of him, clutching the back of his vest. He rested his beak on her shoulder and almost nuzzled her. Moving one of her paws from his back, Liz moved it down his chest and put it against his heart. It was beating rapidly. She didn't know if he noticed that hers was doing the same thing. Deciding that she has had enough of exploring things she'd rather not, she hoisted him up by his armpit and slung his right wing over her shoulder. Michael scooched over rather reluctantly and only after she literally pushed him aside. What the hell was taking North so long?

Sure enough, he appeared in the living room again with the car keys in his paw. And there he was, going all nilly-willy over Liz, bleeding on her shirt and so on. Moreover, they were hugging! For a brief moment, North felt utterly enraged. How dare he? How dare he stumble and fall accidentally and do this to him? Why wasn't he the one getting all fucked up on the stairs? Maybe then he'd get a private nurse. Twenty milliseconds later, North noticed how utterly ridiculous his train of thought was and stopped trying to think altogether. His best friend, his companion was in front of him, badly banged up and bleeding. Just like that, any feelings of jealousy he might have had faded. Liz was a woman he had known for a couple of hours now. Michael he knew his whole life. Without skipping a beat, North grabbed his other armpit and hoisted Michael up, swinging his other wing over his own shoulder. They dragged Michael out the door and to the car. The sun had completely faded, fallen behind some buildings downtown. The streetlights came on about 10 minutes ago and crickets sung in the half-light. To Liz, it all seemed unearthly and strange. To North, the weather and atmosphere meant fuck-all. He just wanted to get his best friend some help as soon as possible. Michael, you idiot.

They packed him into the pick-up, cramming him into the middle spot, just over the gearstick. Liz had to spread his legs manually. She sat down next to the almost-unconscious bird and fastened her seatbelt. He fell into her shoulder and closed his eyes, sighing softly. Wasn't she supposed to keep him awake? Instead, she just stroked the feathers on his head. This wasn't right, she told herself, this was fucked up. The thoughts that were invading her brain some 10 minutes ago came back with reinforcements. Michael pushed his beak into her neck and nuzzled her. This time, she was sure it was a nuzzle. Fuck, she wanted to return the favour. 'What the hell, Liz?' she asked herself and looked away, towards the window. North ran back into the house and vanished from sight. Maybe he wouldn't remember? Maybe he was already out? And then, she just shut down and went ahead with it. Turning towards him, she looked deep into his eyes. His blue eye was half closed but his green one was fully open and bloodshot. Moving in towards him, she planted the softest kiss on the top of his beak. And then she moved down towards his neck and nuzzled him. Liz could feel one of Michael's hands move forwards and run itself across her back. And then he just closed his eyes and leaned into her again, rubbing her back with his fingers. Looking into the rear-view mirror, she could see herself blushing like a schoolgirl. What the fuck Liz, she asked herself again. What in the everloving fuck? North appeared briefly in the mirror, bouncing across the pavement with a can of Coca Cola in his paw. This evening just went from bad to downright ridiculous. He stepped into the driver's seat and put his seatbelt on with one hand while drinking his can bottoms-up with the other. "Delicious" He said and threw it out of the window onto the pavement. Oh great, Liz thought to herself, now we're littering as well.

"Where to, Tuxedo?" He asked cheerily, a smile on his face "Hospital? Or would you like a drink before we commit?"

"Drive, you goofball." She replied as softly as possible, trying desperately not to sound angry. In actuality she was furious. For the life of her she couldn't tell why.

***

They drove through traffic at a relatively relaxed pace. North just kept tapping the steering wheel at every red light, his smile unwavering. Maybe that's how he coped? Liz didn't know. The closer they got to the hospital, the more concerned Liz grew. She would stroke his feathers again and again but all he did was shift his weight once or twice and drip some more blood down her lapel. This worried her. Was he going to be fine? He was going to be fine, she told herself repeatedly, like a mantra. And then those thoughts again. Why the fuck was she concerned? Liz met this guy two hours ago. Sure, he was her roommate but that hardly warranted the sort of attention she gave him. Naturally, the obvious possibility appeared in her head but she refused to believe it. Subconsciously she reminded herself that all of this had happened within the past hour or so. To the conscious part of her brain it seemed like a week had gone by. Finally they pulled up at the ER. Without even tripping up on his seatbelt or dropping his smile, North ran into the ER and emerged a few moments later with an entire cohort of paramedics in tow. They were armed with a stretcher and a bag of what she could only assume were supplies. Knowing what came next, Liz dragged herself out of the passenger seat and lifted the eagle up. The paramedics helped out and hoisted him onto the stretcher, covering him with a blanket. And just like that, back into the hospital they ran. Liz crossed her arms and looked over to North who was following the paramedics with his eyes. He looked exhausted and sweaty, but still he smiled. She noticed that she felt a little weird and queasy as they took Michael away. Seeing him so defenceless in that stretcher just tugged at something in her heart. And then those thoughts came back. Hoping to bat them away, she followed North into the building.

The waiting room was just like any other. It consisted of hospital benches with magazines on small stands and posters on the walls. A dying hibiscus in the far corner completed Liz's mental image of what waiting rooms usually looked like. Two tired-looking nurses attended to the reception, passively filling out forms. North sat himself down in a corner and took out his phone. Liz just paced around with her hands behind her back. On the far side of the hallway lay the compartment where they took Michael. He was located behind a pair of curtains. An endless stream of nurses and trainees seemed to pour into said compartment, only a fraction of what came in coming back out. Then they wheeled an IV stand in and Liz became concerned again. A nurse exited the reception area and walked over to her with a clipboard in hand.

"I have some forms for you to fill out." She said, not even bothering to say hi "Your friend will be just fine. Name and social security number here, please." She handed Liz a pen and the clipboard and walked off. Liz sat down and handed it to North. All she knew about Michael was his name, surname, and occupation. The cat opened the notes on his phone and copied a number. Liz took the clipboard and handed it back in at reception.

"Excuse me, how is he?" She asked concernedly "Did he say anything? Is he awake?"

"The doctor will be right over with the details." With that, the nurse turned away, leaving Liz to her own devices yet again. That feeling in her gut she got in the car came back. Worry mixed with affection mixed with the idea that all of this was just so fucked up. Noticing someone walking in her peripheral vision, she turned to see a doctor, a deer who stood quite a bit taller than her, approach her with a stethoscope slung around his neck and a white coat hanging from his shoulders.

"Good evening, my name is Doctor Hampton. I'm the one treating your friend." They shook hands and the deer continued "He's going to be fine but he did suffer a considerable concussion. Thankfully, it's not as severe as we thought. There's no considerable damage to speak of. We'll also bandage the rest of his wounds, including the gash on his eyebrow and the lacerations on his knees. Your friend was very lucky. We checked him superficially for fractures but we'll need to do an x-ray as well. That could take some time. You'll be waiting, Ms?"

"Hunter. Elizabeth Hunter." She replied and nodded, her face expressionless for the most part but still visibly concerned "How long will that take? I mean, we're not pressed for time. I'll wait all night if I have to."

Her last words made her feel awkward. What the hell did she just blurt out? Hampton estimated that it would be at least two more hours. Then he just turned on his heel and walked off, stuffing his hands into his pockets and smiling to himself. Liz felt at ease. Michael was in the best of hands, the big goofball. A weight she didn't know she bore fell from her shoulders. With a spring in her step, she returned to North and sat back down. Crossing her arms behind her head, she stretched her legs and sighed, closing her eyes. Stars danced on her eyelids. His sleepy, awkward, wonderful eyes came to her.

God damn it, she thought to herself, but still smiled.