Before Morning Comes

A small shack sat in the desolate, sandy plains of the Manchuria wasteland. It was hardly seen in the night, with wind howling between the cracks in the walls and moonlight shining through the two small windows. A square of pale light fell across the body huddled beneath blankets upon the floor. She slept peacefully, black hair falling in a long braid and a 30x30 rifle by her side.

The dog by the door, a large and intimidating mutt, suddenly raised his head. The hairs around his neck bristled, jowls coming back in a snarl as he rose to his feet. The rumble from within his chest had awoken the woman in a second, her form sitting up with the rifle in her hands. She watched the dog, deep brown eyes widened and ears trying to pick up what he had detected.

“What is it?” she whispered, getting to her feet and cocking the rifle.

Heartbeat flaring, she stepped around the creaking floorboards to peek out one of the windows facing the front of the shack. The moon was bright, leaving the land in eery grays and dark shadows. A lone figure stood before the shack. Her eyes took in the sight, the familiar stature of lengthy legs and fine shoulders. The long tails of his coat fell to the back of his calves.

She watched as his body fell to one knee, one hand grasping his side. The lonesome howl of her name flitting through the thin walls of the cold shack. “Song Myeong.” His vocals broke on the last syllable, his pain obvious.

Without further thought, Myeong wretched open the door and hurried to him. “Do-Won!” When she reached him, his heavy breathing was obvious, shoulders heaving horrendously. Clothes shimmered from strewn blood. Without further word, Myeong wrapped an arm around him and led him inside, commanding the dog to stay down.

A lantern was lit, sparking the small shelter with a warm glow. Do-Won sat upon the floor, back leaning heavily against the wall as he placed his hat beside him. His eyes, heavy and bloodshot, watched as the slender woman kindled the fire within the small stove and put water on to heat.

“Let's look at you,” she said and helped him shrug off his coat, then his shirt.

There were grazes upon his arms, actual wounds still leaking from well-aimed bullets that punctured the skin, muscle. One had passed through his side, barely missing a vital organ. He had packed part of his shirt against it and when she removed the staunch, it began to bleed steadily.

“For once you weren't fast enough?” Myeong questioned, placing the cloth back over the bullet hole.

Do-Won smiled, flashing white teeth. Myeong tried desperately to ignore the speed in her heart. “I still won.”

Myeong shook her head and got to her feet to fill a bowl with hot water. “You're going to get killed sooner or later.”

She heard him chuckle and shift to readjust himself against the cold wall. “Yeah, but the money's good, so why stop?” Myeong shook her head and knelt beside him with a bowl of steaming water. She dipped the cloth within it and began to clean the many wounds that adorned his skin. Do-Won watched her, eyes intent on her face, and she tried desperately to ignore him. “I'm impressed with the way you prepared to take care of me so quickly.”

“I'm used to it,” she said, rising to her feet. “Being here simply at your beck and call when you need it.” Do-won caught the bitter catch in her voice, chill like the weather outside. The truth in her words stung more than he liked to admit. He watched her actions as she dug through a drawer, retrieving a small box. She was back on her knees beside him and continued cleaning him up in silence.

“Tell me what happened,” she finally spoke after the silence had become unbearable.

“I collected another bounty. The price on Park Chang-yi's head was pretty respectable.”

Myeong's head shot up, eyes going wide. “Park Chang-yi?” Do-Won nodded. “You...killed Park Chang-yi?”

“He's laying out in the desert as we speak,” said Do-Won.

“He's involved with dangerous men!” Myeong barked. “What if they come looking for you?”

“I'll worry about that when the time comes.”

“Of course you will,” the woman hissed, “you never worry about anyone, but yourself. Money and all your damned bounties...you're a burden for those you care about! Why don't you ever feel anything for them? Putting them in danger?”

Do-Won looked at her in silence, her sudden outburst seeming to barely take him off guard. “You don't have to worry. Before morning comes, I'll be gone.”

Myeong shook her head, “no, that's not what I meant—”

“I'll have to retrieve what's left of Chang-yi in the morning. Can you just...sew me up?”

It was Myeong's turn to watch him this time, for he had looked away at the opposing wall. Slowly, Myeong continued her work, cleaning away the blood and dirt, and beginning to sew those wounds that needed to be. Do-won hardly winced. His Adam's apple bobbed as she plunged the needle into his skin, but no more words were said. Bullet wounds and grazes wrapped, Myeong finally drew back and discarded of the bloodied materials in silence.

When she returned, she offered him water. The cup was brought to his lips and he took it, swallowing it greedily as water trickled from the corners of his mouth. “You're dehydrated,” was all she said. His eyes were sunken, skin ashen and dry. He set the cup down beside him as she bandaged his wounds and finished the job.

“You can have the mat tonight,” she said, kneeling beside the stove to stoke the fire. The end of the night's conversation.

The flames flickered back to life, illuminating Myeong's face with a warm glow. Do-Won's settling movements filled the small room before only the crackling wood remained. The dog settled beside its master, whining slightly before laying his head on his paws. Myeong ran a hand through his fur, unable to get her thoughts straight.

That is the way Park Do-Won's presence worked. He was charming, though his aloof persona should have said otherwise. When he smiled, it was rare, but the glimmer of pleasantness was worth the long wait. Often his handsome face was simply set in calm indifference, looking upon danger and love with the same dauntless expression that left both sides irritated and confused. What did he fear? Did he ever feel anything besides this doting responsibility that he had put upon himself to catch as many outlaws as he could before one of their well-aimed bullets met his skull?

Myeong doubted it. In the years she had known him, did he ever truly return any feelings of humanity? He was just so indifferent to everything; it was so damned frustrating! But Myeong had given up hope ages ago, knowing full well that that one, little speck of attachment she had for him would never be returned.

“You know...” Do-Won's voice was startling in the darkness. Myeong turned to look over her shoulder at the form laying across the mat, a blanket laying over his built frame. “Its very cold in here,” he went on, “and its not right for you to freeze. Or for me to freeze either. Perhaps you should join me.”

The request was left hanging in the air for several still seconds. “Excuse me?” Myeong finally managed to ask, freeing her tongue from its frozen state.

Without further words, Do-Won held up one side of the blanket, inviting her in. “I don't bite.” Features still held that plain of indifference, but his dark eyes twinkled with something far more. Myeong remained motionless. Her brain tried to process exactly what was happening, these actions far different from anything she was used to. “Come on,” he coaxed. The space beside his body looked far too inviting and Myeong had to look away for her thoughts to clear themselves.

More silence followed until, slowly, she rose from her stance and approached. Her mind forbade her from such things, claiming this unsatisfactory and suspicious behavior on his part. However, the organ within her chest had begged for a moment like this, for a time when Park Do-Won might return the feelings she had tried desperately to hide for years. Dropping to her knees, Myeong crawled beneath the blanket and slid in beside him.

He was warm and smelled of leather, sweat, gunpowder. Myeong could not look at him, only the small space that she had left between them. Slowly, Do-Won raised a hand, his actions suddenly unsure as he placed it on the side of her face. Immediately, Myeong flushed.

“Look at me.”

She obeyed, eyes creeping up his toned body to his handsome face. His eyes said a thousand things to her, things he wished to say, but couldn't. He was a man of few words, Myeong knew this and did not mind. He was a man of clear, thought-out action. Actions were not rash, sudden. When he leaned in, lips pressing against hers, the mind froze. Shocked and unsure what to do, Myeong laid there, startled past reason. Do-Won pulled away, eyes gleaming as they looked into hers. Myeong heaved a breath before grasping his face and bringing it back to hers. His lips dominated, firm and sure and making Myeong's body go completely weak. She could hardly breath as her hands ran through his short hair. His grip tightened on her fair body, pulling her closer until a space was nonexistent. Little room left to breathe.

When they finally pulled apart again, Myeong's heart was hammering hard against her ribcage. So hard, she was sure Do-Won probably felt it. His content smile proved that he at least understood how he made her insides completely disintegrate, made her mind flash as frantic and fast as lightning.

“You're beautiful when you're flustered,” Do-Won spoke.

Myeong's cheeks flared. He chuckled at the sight. “Do you enjoy playing with my emotions?”
Do-Won's eyebrows raised. “I'm not playing, Myeong. Trust me.” He placed another kiss on his lips before cradling her against his chest, a hand resting against the back of her head. “Just trust me.”

His even breathing, his warmth, his rugged scent...it led her slowly into a daze, into a sleep far more content than she had ever had.

--

Myeong shifted, turning sleepily onto her back. A ray of golden light seared her eyelids and she sat up at the sudden shock of sleeping in past the rising son. The incident from last night resonated in her mind. She looked down at the spot beside her. It was empty. Her eyes traveled frantically around the shack, almost expecting him to be standing there. But there was no sign of him; his hat, gun, and clothes were gone.

The dog was laying against the door, breathing deep. However, he startled awake when Myeong got to her feet. She shoved him away and threw open the door. Her eyes were greeted with the desolate desert, wind blowing dust clouds across the empty expanse of sand and brush. She stood in the doorway lamely, lost. She had trusted him. The bounty hunter was no where to be found.

”You don't have to worry. Before morning comes, I'll be gone.”

Do-Won had kept his promise.