She walked away as the door clicked, took 7 steps, and grabbed her keys; that's when it happened. She and Sam had just laughed about something and said goodbye. They hadn't been able to spend much time together lately, due to Sam having what is considered to be "a life". Sam was recently married, working, and traveling, while Crystal was adjusting to her surroundings and trying much too hard to find that elusive contentment that she longed for.
It happened very quickly, without much time for thought. Step, step, click, step, dig for keys, step, step, pull keys from purse, step, rustle, step. The feeling of pain, the smell of blood, a bang, and the sight of the fallen offender with him standing over it, calm as spring rain. She hadn't even registered that she was on the ground, the blood from her calf staining the driveway. She hadn't realized how pale she was turning and how quickly. All she had noticed was the way his dark hair curled through the porch light, starkly contrasting the straight, sleek line of his gun, still aimed at the lifeless body on the grass. One hand on the gun, one reaching down to her, his eyes never moving from the lifeless corpse.
"Come with me."
One hand subconsciously holding the gaping gash on her leg, one hand consciously reaching up towards his, Crystal moved as swiftly as she could manage. He acted as a crutch, moving backwards, never shifting his eyes or gun from the ground. She hopped backwards with him, trusting entirely on his shoulders. He stopped and, without turning, sat her in his car. She hadn't even noticed that a car was there until she was inside. He closed the door, calmly walked around the car, and sat down in the driver's seat. His arm reached across her, gun aimed through the window at his defeated foe, and drove off.
"You've lost a lot of blood, take this and drink this."
Crystal downed the pill dry and drank from the bottle. She could feel her leg numbing, and was too afraid to see if she was still bleeding. She closed her eyes and focused on breathing. They sat in silence for quite a while before he spoke.
"Why haven't you asked me any questions?"
"I figure you'll tell me what you want to tell me when you want to. Why should I push the subject?"
"You don't want to know what that thing was that attacked you, how I got there as fast as I did, why it went after you, or who I am?"
"Of course I want to know."
"So why don't you ask?"
"I've seen enough movies to know how this works. I ask questions, I'm wasting time. You'll explain when you want to, regardless of when I ask."
He paused for a moment and smirked.
"Fair enough."
How much time had passed, Crystal had no idea. She had lost the feeling in her leg, but at least there wasn't pain anymore. His car was clean and dark. She considered the man next to her, with his dark hair, light eyes, and strong features. He was broad, but not imposing. He carried her earlier more with confidence than strength. She trusted him immediately, because she couldn't conceive of anything else to do. There was pain, or there was him. There was blood, or there was him. There was this empty, dull life that she lived, or there was him.
-----
Consciousness returned in phases. First came sight. She was able to open her eyes, but she couldn't bring herself to shift her vision from the immediate view. In all of her years, she had never seen so many stars. The air was clear, and there was only blackness to define distance between the beams of light.
After sight, smell was present. Grass. There was grass. Crystal found comfort in the grass smell; familiarity was something missing in her current situation. You'll never know how much you like grass until you expect yourself to be afloat in space, staring at the vast array of stars that fill your view. Just beyond the grass smell, there was sweat. It took her longer than she would have thought it would to realize that the sweat was her own. She must have broken out with a fever and passed out, which would explain why she was just now conscious and had no clue why she was ever unconscious.
Breathing. Her own, plus one. Not loud, but audible. He must be close by. She closed her eyes to the starry sight and returned her mind's eye to his face. So calm, so knowing, this man was different than anyone she had ever met. He was physically attractive, there was no arguing that, but that isn't what drew her to him. His appearance intrigued her, his mannerisms fascinated her, but mostly his confidence kept her. She had no idea why, but knowing that he was close, however close he may be, she felt safe.
Feeling. Finally, she could sense blood moving through her body, her limbs anticipating the orders from her brain. Her arms were almost buried in damp grass, and she could feel how sore her muscles were. It is such a strange thing, regaining feeling in your body. It is hard to notice that someone is holding your hand when you honestly can't remember the moment they started. She was finally able to shift her gaze, and saw him sitting up, one hand putting pressure on her leg, the other holding her.
"You were out longer than I had expected. Can you feel your leg?"
"No."
"Good."
Crystal sat up, slowly and tensely. He looked at her with concern. It frightened her; this was the first time he didn't seem confident and controlled. He had torn off her pant leg and tied it around her thigh. She could see that her calf was swollen, but in the dim light, she couldn't tell if it had changed colors. He pressed hard on her leg, and she winced out of habit rather than pain. His confidence returned with a knowing smile, as if holding her hand was the path to the truth.
"I'm Tyler."
"Hi, Tyler. I'm Crystal."
Tyler sighed, blinked, and began. "I'm what is known as a Chok, a collector-hunter-order-keeper. I find things that don't belong wherever they are, and I fix the situation. Things... exist, and not always in the right sequence or place. I try to set them right, or, when necessary, eliminate them. If I can't find a place where something belongs, then it doesn't belong anywhere. Every day, I'm afraid that I will do something wrong, or put something where it doesn't belong. Or worse, that I'll eliminate something that belongs somewhere. But whatever the case, I go on. I persist. I do my job, and I save lives."
Crystal nodded. Tyler stared at her in disbelief.
"How the hell can you just sit there and accept what I'm telling you? This is intense, mind-and-life-altering information, and all you do is nod."
"Well, look. I was walking outside of my best friend's home. I was attacked by something. You were there. Now I'm here, and you're still with me..."
"So... you're saying that this makes perfect sense?"
"No, what I'm saying is that I chose to believe you. I can say no, I can laugh, call it a joke, whatever. But I'd rather believe you."
"Why?"
"Because I like believing that things belong somewhere."
Tyler considered this. It frustrated him to realize that he would be attached to this person in a very short amount of time. She didn't understand yet, but she was ready to. Willing to. She wanted to believe in order and "belonging" and him. And he wanted her to believe. He reclined on the grass next to her, always keeping her hand in his. They talked about order, about belonging, about his work. They talked about travels, about the passage of time, about everything.
"So what, you deal with aliens and dinosaurs and vampires?"
"I don't even know what that stuff is. At least, not the way that you do. There are so many classifications for fairy tales and myths and urban legends. Portals, time traveling, space invaders... why? It makes no sense to me. The point isn't what it is or where it's from, the point is where it should be. Where things fit. The environment they find peace in, or the closest that they can achieve, I suppose."
"And you make that call?"
"I was trained to do so, yes."
She wanted to push forward, finding the ethical center to the argument, but was sidetracked by another thought.
"How do you find them?"
"What, the misfit or the ideal environment?"
"Let's start with the misfit, I suppose."
He considered the easiest way to explain. "Well, you see, when something doesn't belong, it clings to other things that don't belong. It's like with magnets, when they repel, there's not much you can do. But when something else is nearby that is also being repelled by the same environment, they are drawn together."
"Well that's not really how magnets work, though..."
"Says who?"
"Says..." She thought for a moment, and let it drop.
"Anyway, it's like that. It's not a conscious effort, it just... happens. It's not usually a friendly connection, though. There are battles, there are deaths, there is tension beyond compare. The stuff that ruins people. Usually, a stronger misfit preys on a weaker, who hasn't even been able to accept their misplacement."
"I don't understand."
Tyler tried to remain delicate, without revealing too much. He would have to save that for a better time. "Typically, when something realizes that it does not belong, that is when its strength comes in. Sometimes, another misfit will have yet to realize that their environment is not their own, and it makes them weak. The stronger overcomes the weaker, with no effort. The weaker doesn't even know that a battle is constantly raging through and inside of them. Knowing-misfits have no mercy for those that they destroy in their search for belonging."
Crystal did not understand why, at that moment, she remembered Elliot. Tyler knew that he had said too much, and waited for the inevitable question.
"Tyler... can... can these "misfits" be anything?"
"Yes."
"Like an animal?"
"Yes."
"Like a building?"
"Sure."
"A plant?"
"Why not?"
"A person?"
Tyler sighed, held her hand, and said, "Crystal, look where you are. Breathe. Do you feel that?"
She felt the strangest senses all at once. Heartache, homesickness, longing, contentment, ease, sorrow, love, fear, joy... through it all, though, she could not deny it. Belonging. It was there. This was where she was meant to be, and there was no question in her mind. She couldn't speak to answer his question.
"Do you know why I haven't let go of your hand?"
She had almost forgotten about it again. There was so much comfort in his warm hand.
"This feeling that you have right here? On this hill, in this space? I feel that here," he squeezed her hand, "between your fingers. In your palm. Through your nails. Through the veins in your wrist. Something about you is keeping me here. I have never felt this before, and I'm terrified."
Crystal looked up into his light blue eyes and saw that he meant it. The confidence slipped again for a brief moment, but returned with his next breath.
"I have to go, I need to get back to work. I promise you, though, I'm coming back to this spot. I'm coming back here, and I'm going to hold your hand for hours. I want to understand this feeling."
He let go of her hand, and it slipped into the grass. He closed his eyes, almost in pain, and reached for her hand again. His eyes still closed, he raised her hand to his lips, kissed gently, and smiled. Opening his eyes slowly, he said, "I will see you soon." He dropped her hand to the ground again, and walked towards his car.
Crystal sat up and watched him drive away. Going over their conversation in her mind, she tried to make sense of it all. Instead, she once again decided that the only thing to do was make a conscious effort to believe. Believe. Trust. Fall, without question, for this man who had stolen her from the place where she did not fit in, and brought her to the fulfillment of belonging. She understood that his job did not seem to be one that could easily be accomplished. Collector. Hunter. Order Keeper. Collector. Hunter. Order Keeper. Collector. Hunter. Order Keeper. These words repeated as she fell asleep in the grass, under the blanket of stars. As she drifted away from the final moments of deliberate consciousness, the roulette of her mind stopped on the word "hunter".
