Ghost In The Shell: Stand Alone Complex Fan Fiction ❯ Lanslide ❯ Chapter 2 ( Chapter 2 )
[ 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: 1.0K | Visits: 206 | 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: 1.0K | Visits: 206 | Status: Completed
He found her in the bar, drinking alone. The bartender shot him a resentful glance. Batou ignored him. The stool creaked in protest as he settled in beside her.
"You look like shit." He said by way of greeting.
Her shoulders bent a little more, curling around her glass like a dying leaf. "Go away, Batou."
"It's a free country. More or less. For now, anyway. I can still get sloshed anywhere I want."
The bartender was watching them warily. Batou turned away so the man only had a view of his broad back.
"It's almost last call."
"I don't see you packing up to leave. Major, what the hell is going on with you?"
She tilted her head back. She looked exhausted; shadows smeared under her eyes, lines etched in her forehead. He hadn't noticed before; she hadn't let him get near enough to see. She closed her eyes briefly, then opened them. But she didn't look at him. "What are you talking about?"
"You've been acting weird since the Dejima thing. You avoid anything like a conversation, you snap at every little thing…pardon my language, but for the last three weeks you've been acting like a royal bitch. Everyone notices it. Even Togusa said it, and that guy worships you. If he thinks you're being a bitch, then you're being a bitch."
She stared unseeing at the mirror above the bar. Batou sighed. "You look worn out."
"You think?" There was no edge of humor in her voice. Her tone was flat."When did you last sleep?"
She raised a hand as if to rub her temple, but let it drop. "I don't know. Two weeks?"
Batou frowned. Even for a full-body cyborg, the recommended time to go without sleep was no more than four days. "Jesus, Major."
"Last call!" The bartender spoke to the few remaining patrons scattered around the bar, but he was looking at them. Batou couldn't blame him for wanting them gone; Section 9's members had brought enough trouble into his establishment. He rose.
"Come on, this poor guy just wants to head home."
She didn't reply, and for a moment he thought she was going to refuse to leave. After an interminable moment she got up. She was steady on her feet, but her eyes held the slightly glazed look of the very drunk. Batou reached for her arm but stopped before touching her.
They climbed the stairs to the street. Spring was creeping in slowly, but the nights were still cold. The few other people on the street were bundled up, anonymous behind scarves.
The Major tilted her head back. Whatever stars managed to escape the neon glow of the city were hidden behind clouds. "What do you want?"
"I want to walk you home, like a gentleman."
"I don't need your help."
"I don't know if you've noticed, but you're drunk."
"I can synth the alcohol out of my system in ten seconds."
"But I have a feeling," Batou dug the toe of his boot into the pavement. "You'd rather stay drunk."
She turned her back on him. "You can be such an asshole sometimes, Batou."
He followed. "I'll take that to mean, 'Yes, I'd love for you to walk me home.'"
She was silent as he fell into step beside her. Baotu jammed his hands into his pockets. He could have turned off his temperature sensor, but he kind of liked the chill clinging to his skin.
She, of course, was entirely underdressed, impervious to the weather. She walked with her head bowed, feet dragging; nothing like her usual confident gait. A needle of pain pierced between his ribs, seeing her this depressed.
They walked without speaking, until Batou felt suffocated by the silence.
"Look." He hesitated, then plunged ahead. "I don't know what was up with you and that Kuze guy, and I don't care." A lie, but how would she know? "But me and the guys, it wasn't our fault what happened to him. I didn't like the guy, sure. But I didn't want him dead."
"So?"
His fists clenched in his pockets. He stopped in the middle of the sidewalk. She took a few more steps, halted, and spun to face him with the grace of a dancer.
"So stop treating me like I killed him!" Across the street a man stopped to watch them. It looked bad; a big, aggressive guy yelling at a woman half his size. He leashed his anger, lowered his voice. "I know you want to take it out on someone. But I don't deserve it. We don't deserve it."
"Did the guys elect you to tell me that?" Without waiting for an answer, she turned on her heel and walked away.
"No, I'm just worried about you!"
"Why?" Her voice was faint, weary.
"Can you possibly be that dense?" He muttered as he caught up to her. She gave no indication of having head. The new silence was even heavier than the last.
Abruptly she stopped. She looked up at him with slightly unfocused eyes. "I don't want to go home."
Batou frowned. He had to get her someplace she could crash. "Why not?"
"It's too empty." She tucked a stray lock of hair behind her ear, an uncommonly feminine gesture.
He could understand that. He'd spent a long, tense night at her place a year before. It wasbig, and almost totally unfurnished, and lonely. "How about a friend's place?" Did she have any friends? He had no idea.
She shook her head mutely. Batou sighed. "All right. Come on."
"Where?"
"My place. It's a few blocks this way. You can sleep there." He ventured a hand on her elbow. She didn't protest as he steered her around the corner
Converting /tmp/php8UlmEZ to /dev/stdout
"You look like shit." He said by way of greeting.
Her shoulders bent a little more, curling around her glass like a dying leaf. "Go away, Batou."
"It's a free country. More or less. For now, anyway. I can still get sloshed anywhere I want."
The bartender was watching them warily. Batou turned away so the man only had a view of his broad back.
"It's almost last call."
"I don't see you packing up to leave. Major, what the hell is going on with you?"
She tilted her head back. She looked exhausted; shadows smeared under her eyes, lines etched in her forehead. He hadn't noticed before; she hadn't let him get near enough to see. She closed her eyes briefly, then opened them. But she didn't look at him. "What are you talking about?"
"You've been acting weird since the Dejima thing. You avoid anything like a conversation, you snap at every little thing…pardon my language, but for the last three weeks you've been acting like a royal bitch. Everyone notices it. Even Togusa said it, and that guy worships you. If he thinks you're being a bitch, then you're being a bitch."
She stared unseeing at the mirror above the bar. Batou sighed. "You look worn out."
"You think?" There was no edge of humor in her voice. Her tone was flat."When did you last sleep?"
She raised a hand as if to rub her temple, but let it drop. "I don't know. Two weeks?"
Batou frowned. Even for a full-body cyborg, the recommended time to go without sleep was no more than four days. "Jesus, Major."
"Last call!" The bartender spoke to the few remaining patrons scattered around the bar, but he was looking at them. Batou couldn't blame him for wanting them gone; Section 9's members had brought enough trouble into his establishment. He rose.
"Come on, this poor guy just wants to head home."
She didn't reply, and for a moment he thought she was going to refuse to leave. After an interminable moment she got up. She was steady on her feet, but her eyes held the slightly glazed look of the very drunk. Batou reached for her arm but stopped before touching her.
They climbed the stairs to the street. Spring was creeping in slowly, but the nights were still cold. The few other people on the street were bundled up, anonymous behind scarves.
The Major tilted her head back. Whatever stars managed to escape the neon glow of the city were hidden behind clouds. "What do you want?"
"I want to walk you home, like a gentleman."
"I don't need your help."
"I don't know if you've noticed, but you're drunk."
"I can synth the alcohol out of my system in ten seconds."
"But I have a feeling," Batou dug the toe of his boot into the pavement. "You'd rather stay drunk."
She turned her back on him. "You can be such an asshole sometimes, Batou."
He followed. "I'll take that to mean, 'Yes, I'd love for you to walk me home.'"
She was silent as he fell into step beside her. Baotu jammed his hands into his pockets. He could have turned off his temperature sensor, but he kind of liked the chill clinging to his skin.
She, of course, was entirely underdressed, impervious to the weather. She walked with her head bowed, feet dragging; nothing like her usual confident gait. A needle of pain pierced between his ribs, seeing her this depressed.
They walked without speaking, until Batou felt suffocated by the silence.
"Look." He hesitated, then plunged ahead. "I don't know what was up with you and that Kuze guy, and I don't care." A lie, but how would she know? "But me and the guys, it wasn't our fault what happened to him. I didn't like the guy, sure. But I didn't want him dead."
"So?"
His fists clenched in his pockets. He stopped in the middle of the sidewalk. She took a few more steps, halted, and spun to face him with the grace of a dancer.
"So stop treating me like I killed him!" Across the street a man stopped to watch them. It looked bad; a big, aggressive guy yelling at a woman half his size. He leashed his anger, lowered his voice. "I know you want to take it out on someone. But I don't deserve it. We don't deserve it."
"Did the guys elect you to tell me that?" Without waiting for an answer, she turned on her heel and walked away.
"No, I'm just worried about you!"
"Why?" Her voice was faint, weary.
"Can you possibly be that dense?" He muttered as he caught up to her. She gave no indication of having head. The new silence was even heavier than the last.
Abruptly she stopped. She looked up at him with slightly unfocused eyes. "I don't want to go home."
Batou frowned. He had to get her someplace she could crash. "Why not?"
"It's too empty." She tucked a stray lock of hair behind her ear, an uncommonly feminine gesture.
He could understand that. He'd spent a long, tense night at her place a year before. It wasbig, and almost totally unfurnished, and lonely. "How about a friend's place?" Did she have any friends? He had no idea.
She shook her head mutely. Batou sighed. "All right. Come on."
"Where?"
"My place. It's a few blocks this way. You can sleep there." He ventured a hand on her elbow. She didn't protest as he steered her around the corner
Converting /tmp/php8UlmEZ to /dev/stdout