“What is?” I ask.
“Having some level of confirmation is good,” he says, pointing his thumb toward the sky, “but it doesn’t exactly make me feel any better. I don’t have a face for my enemy.”
“What would you do if one of them was standing in front of you?”
“Get a really, really good look at it,” Falk says, “and then blow its fucking face off.”
“Really?”
“They’ve already attacked us, Hannah. I wouldn’t exactly show them any mercy.”
What he says makes sense, but I’m not used to thinking of violence as the first course of action. Couldn’t it all be some misunderstanding? Maybe they—whoever they are—didn’t mean to do what they did. Maybe they were peaceful, and it was all a mistake.
They took the women and children.
I shudder and wrap my arms around myself as I stare back up into the sky. There haven’t been any more sightings, but I wonder if they are up there anyway, just too far away to see.
“I want you to start carrying a gun all the time,” Falk says seriously as he reaches out and places his hands on my shoulders. “I know you aren’t completely comfortable with that, but I want you to do it anyway.”
“I’m not surprised.” I look up at the sky, wondering what a handgun could possibly do against such a thing.
“You’ll do it?”
I close my eyes and nod. The very idea of having something like that on me all the time makes me nervous, but I can’t argue with him. I open my eyes as I feel his thumb on my cheek.
“You tired?” he asks.
“No,” I say as I look at him, “but I would like to go to bed.”
His eyes widen slightly.
“You sure?”
“Positive.”
Falk nods slowly, runs his fingers down the side of my arm, and links his hand around mine. We don’t speak as we walk up the stairs to the apartment or when we get inside. My legs are shaking a little, and my heart is already pounding in my chest.
Falk turns to me, runs his thumb over my mouth, and then kisses me slowly and softly. I bring my arms up around his neck and press against him, deepening the kiss. His arms wrap around my waist, and I feel his hands just inside the hem of my shirt. He slips his fingers inside my jeans, rubbing the skin of my lower back as he hums against my lips.
“We don’t have to do anything you don’t want to do,” he says.
“Stop worrying,” I respond.
“I can’t help it.” He runs his hands up my arms. “I know you haven’t…not since...”
“Don’t say it.” I place two fingers over his mouth. “There is just you and me here. I don’t want to think about anything else.”
“I just want this to be perfect,” he says softly. “I want to be perfect for you. God, Hannah, you have no idea how much I want this to be right for you.”
His words bring tears to my eyes. I can see by his expression how serious he is, how much this means to him. As a tear escapes from my lashes and falls to my cheek, he reaches up and brushes it away.
“I want you,” I whisper. The words catch in my throat. “You’re the only reason I’ve managed to stay sane through all of this. You’re the only reason I’m even still alive.”
“You don’t owe me anything, Hannah.”
“I know that.” I shake my head slightly. I don’t know how to express myself in a way that will make sense to him. “It’s not obligation. It isn’t even gratitude, though I feel both of those things as well. I feel safe with you. Even with everything that’s going on, you make me feel safe. The closer I am to you, the more comfortable I am. When you hold me…I just…”
I look away as I stumble over my words, and Falk strokes my cheek again, wiping away another tear.