It was a feeling he got in his chest.

Some would compare it to like having a sixth sense about things.

(But in his case, the number was a little higher than just six).

It stemmed from experience- years of collective mistakes, and scars; decades of learning and adapting. For Kenshi, it all came down to his senses- everything, and just about everyone, depended on them when it was necessary. With the exception of him, in which it was mandatory.

Experience told him what to listen for.

But the information he sought wasn't found in the faint whistling of bombs being dropped all around him. It wasn't found in the aftermath of the ear-splitting explosions that vibrated in his bones and spine- making his head ache with every new rupture. It wasn't found in the constant gunfire that, thankfully, was off in the distance this time. Even now, after the years and decades he had put into the Special Forces, he was still unnerved by the sounds of guns, or any form of heavy weaponry. Not quite as badly as he had once been, but they were still enough to cause him to grimace.

The hollow throbbing in his chest, just underneath an age-torn breastplate, and battle-battered ribs, wasn't a reaction from him.

It wasn't a reaction to the piece of shrapnel, still hot from a recent explosion, that had embedded itself into his right cheek; it had cut down to teeth and gums- filling his mouth with blood every now and again. Bitter and metallic on the tongue and to his senses.

Decades of experience had honed his ability to cut out most of such distractions- allowing him to focus on what mattered more.

To focus simply on the weight of Sento in his hands, and the warm aura that passed through his fingertips.

To focus on the sounds of bones being crushed and flesh being split open with every careful, calculated swing.

To focus and listen to the slight whistle Sento made when it cut through the air- just before it impaled itself into his target's skull.

Experience told him what to listen for.

And Kenshi found the source of that knotted feeling in the sound of her boots briefly catching and scraping against the ground- causing the thick rubber soles to squeak with every other step. He heard it in the wheezing breaths that came out from between clenched teeth; in the hard contraction of her lungs, and the choking of her throat with every breathless heave.

He heard the source of it in the soft jangle of her dog tags as they clipped against one another. And he immediately got the image of her walking slightly hunched over; just enough to lift the identification tags from where they would normally rest silently against her chest.

And it was that deep-seated feeling, it was years of experience; it was a thousand ancestral voices shouting out at once that drove him to her.

That drove him to run hell across the formerly abandoned shipping facility, now reincarnated as a Black Dragon hideout- and soon to be buried once more under rubble and bombs. Feet stumbled slightly over broken up concrete and what might've been corpses- stumbling over things he didn't bother to avoid, or move out of his way.

It wasn't worth his time, his energy, to focus on what was underneath them.

Every second he wasn't next to her was a risk.

He heard the slight grunt that escaped her as she stumbled out into the war-torn back lot. Her business in the heart of the facility long finished and left behind her now- more than likely in a spattered mess.

...

He didn't even smell the blood through the smoke and gunpowder until he was next to her.

Until he felt her forearm brush against his chest, and felt the subtle push that came from it- warning him that he had gotten too close.

"I'm fine," Sonya spoke, bloodied words forced out between teeth and breathlessness.

He could hear the blood practically pouring out of her; thick, fat droplets splashing into the ground at her feet.

Sonya tried to make him keep his distance, but the plan faltered and failed when her braced forearm lost its traction, and her left shoulder slid into his chest instead. Kenshi felt the hint of her bodyweight hitting him, and quickly moved to brace one arm across her back to catch her; despite her earlier attempt, he wasn't willing to let her out of his grasp.

He brought his other arm around to her chest, but froze when his hand collided with the arm she had braced against her abdomen. A not so subtle flinch had him retracting the motion as he moved his hand to her shoulder instead- pulling her in and keeping her anchored to him.

Kenshi felt the slow way she shifted her weight off of her feet and onto him. He felt her non-braced arm loosely hook itself around his waist to help her keep balance- fingers curling tight against his back. He felt her head rest against his chest as her shoulders slumped forward, altering her usual stiff, upright position into a shaky, hunched over one. Uncharacteristic of her.

She never was one to admit to needing help, but at least with him, she never had to ask.

Heavy breaths clipped through her teeth now, and he could feel the way her entire body seemed to jerk with each one. He could hear her lungs struggling to keep up with every hard breath- causing them to choke in her throat from time to time.

"General-"

"We're through here," she interrupted- voice hoarse now from her struggled breathing. "I already called the boys off... Let's just get home."

He knew those words- knew the tone that they were spoken in.

Experience let him know where this situation was headed.

She barely got another step forward before he caught her once again, and carefully hoisted her up in his arms- taking note of the pained grunt that escaped her. He knew she hated it when he carried her, when anyone carried her really; she was vocal about it every time he did it. But he wasn't going to hear another squeak of her boots, or the catch of her dog tags against one another. He wasn't going to have her struggling to stand up straight- let alone walk.

She felt heavy in his arms- heavier than normal, heavier than she should've been.

For now, she was quiet; her head tucked against his shoulder as her breathing shifted into short, fast exchanges against his neck.

But even with her safely in his arms, with the chaos in the distance calming down, even with the irritatingly loud approach of helicopters in the skies above... That feeling in his chest remained and persisted- chewing its way through him.

...

It wasn't until he had her on the floorboard of one of the helicopters did he know why that feeling was stuck on him.

It wasn't until he had stripped off his gloves, using fingers and teeth to do so; until he brought his hands to her face and flinched at the heat and sweat of her skin against his own. Her jaw and cheeks fit perfectly against his palms, they always had, and it took every bit of self-control to not let his senses get out of hand. His gloves kept his sense of touch numb, kept it subdued to a degree- just enough for him to not overreact to everything his skin touched.

But he needed to be open, needed to focus everything on this- on her.

It wasn't until he felt warm, wet fingers lying over the open bed of her stomach- until he felt the warm, wet rush of her blood pumping through his own fingers. Senses and nerves tingled and burned at the feeling as he covered her hand with his own.

He knew what was wrong now.

He knew what had happened when he wasn't looking, when he wasn't with her.

... He didn't know the count; he didn't know how many stabs she took until she got away, or until she killed the hand that held the blade.

Didn't know how long it took before her stomach wall collapsed in on itself.

It couldn't have been too long though- the stabs couldn't have been too deep. Otherwise her entrails would've been dangling around her feet by the time he found her. It was a small comfort, a small thought of reassurance that there was still plenty of time between them.

He could feel the weight and pressure of her organs in his grasp though- felt the way they pushed against his palm in an attempt to spill out across the floorboards. Warm and slick to the touch, coating his fingers in blood and mucus.

He could hear the blood gurgling in her throat; he could hear the way each breath had to choke its way through in order to bring in air. The blood was warm as it spilled out from her lips and pooled underneath the palm he kept placed at her jaw.

At this point, he couldn't tell if the erratic pounding in the back of his head was her heartbeat, or his.

Every single one of his senses was on edge as he focused them all on her.

On the warmth of her blood on his hands.

On the nauseating way the helicopter was filled with the scent of fresh carnage and guts.

It was so overpowering, he was almost convinced that the taste of blood in his mouth was hers as well.

He could hear the pounding of her veins and arteries, tight and constricting where they could be inside of her; but spliced and ripped open where they were outside of her stomach.

"Stay with me," Kenshi whispered, urging the words at this point, as he let Sento's energy flood out through his hand- using it to counteract the pressure of her organs filling his palm. He tried not to think of the oddity of the situation; his telekinetic abilities were normally used to rip organs out, not push them back in. But it was precise, it was articulate; it was needed.

She would be going into shock soon- if she wasn't already there.

He had to keep her together- had to keep her with him, at least just long enough for them to reach the nearest Special Forces base.

If she lost consciousness now... she might not come back.

"... Please."

She could only respond with the heavy coughs that tore through her chest, desperate to expel the blood from her throat. Every harsh choke made it difficult for him to keep her organs in place, as shredded muscles still contracted and spasmed with each cough; it was almost as if her own body was trying to expel the organs themselves.

This was still in his control though.

He could do this. No need for panic.

His fingers lifted from her jaw and brushed across her brow- brushing aside the wet strands of hair that collected under his touch. The looseness of her strands indicated that either her braid might've been cut free, or cut loose in some way; a rare problem she came across every now and again, especially in combat. Always did complain about the length, and talked about cutting it, but never went much from there with it.

Her skin was still hot underneath his touch- making his fingers tremble as he gently curled them against her temple.

Kenshi forced his own breathing to slow down, carefully forcing himself into a concentrated sense of calm; he slowed his own heartbeat down, cooling his entire body before he eased himself into her head, into the depths of her mind.

It was chaotic; a mess of shock setting in, and agony that had her body struggling to control the pain, and blood loss. A mess of her body trying to repair spliced nerves and freed organs, which were far too sensitive for the stiff air in the helicopter.

Her energy was erratic.

One wrong move and- no, he couldn't afford to think like that, not while he was inside of her like this.

Stopping his breath completely now, he was slow and careful to navigate and find the open receptors that recognized her pain; the ones that were putting her through this agony.

And when he found them, he cut them off.

It was dangerous, he knew that.

But it did little to stop him.

He knew what he was capable of- he knew what his limits were... and he knew what kinds of risks were worth taking.

There was a quiet, choked gasp that escaped her in response- no doubt she was suddenly aware of the loss of feeling. He gave it a few seconds for the pain to bleed out of her body, leaving behind heavy, exhausted breaths that still sparked blood on her lips.

He could hear her give a sputtered cough or two, before he felt her turn her head in his grasp and listened to the sound of blood being spat out from her mouth.

"You're alright," Kenshi whispered, breathing again- hard and slightly uncoordinated, almost matching her own rhythm. Leaning down, he pressed his forehead against her own, taking her in with every one of his senses. "You're going to pull through this; I know you will."

The words felt like they were more reassurance for him than for her, but it felt good to hear them spoken out loud regardless.

The lack of obvious pain wouldn't change the situation though; she was still in the running to bleed to death.

But at the very least, she wouldn't die from the agony.

Kenshi felt the weak hit of her forearm against his chest, and pulled away- only to stop when he felt her fingers curl against the leather strap of Sento's sheath. The grip wasn't strong by any means, but it was firm; it was enough to catch his attention, which was all she wanted.

"What did I say... about carrying me?" Sonya pressed; voice barely above a whisper, but still underlined with a tone of authority.

He wasn't surprised by her tenacity; they had worked for far too long together for it to be anything new to him. And he also wasn't surprised that she would hold such a simple thing against him still- no matter the situation. "You know me, General- I don't usually take commands all that well."

The sly remark was enough to trigger a quiet, partly forced chuckle from her throat.

His senses went crazy as he felt her brush her hand against his own- feeling the heat of her palm, but the startling chill of her fingertips against his skin.

"I got two slugs in him," she whispered- answering a question he had long since thrown out by now. "Took three hits to the stomach... but still tagged the bastard. And that's all... that's all that matters."

Perhaps so.

At the very least, she got what she wanted.

And as long as she would pull through this, that was all that mattered to him.

Kenshi didn't know how long he spent holding his hands under the rushing cold water- still trying to scrub the warmth of her blood off of them.

His fingertips felt stiff and frozen; most of his body heat having been lost under the chilling bath, and yet... he could still feel it. He could still feel the shakiness of her body, the false heat of her skin- the pressured weight of her organs in his hands.

Every single one of his senses was still going crazy- still hounded by memories and nightmares.

He eventually forced himself to shut the water off, but not because the feeling was gone- only because the sound of rushing water was making his head throb. The chill of his fingertips had numbed his sense of touch to a small degree, but not enough to spare him. Not enough to do anything against the bloodied ghosts lingering on his palms.

Drying off his hands, he pulled his gloves back on- glad to have the subdued feeling once more; at this point, it felt more like a security than anything else. Something to keep his skin from crawling for the time being.

Stepping back out into the hallway, he was quick to cut out as much background noise as he could- ignoring the squeaking wheels of gurneys, or the stumbling footsteps of the nurses on staff. He tried to ignore the burning smell of medicines and chemicals in the air, but that one was a little harder to manage.

Tried to ignore the fact that he was in a hospital to begin with.

Never was a fan- whether he was a patient, or just a visitor.

He counted steps and made his way back to the chair he had been seated at before- in the small, quiet waiting room just off of the busy hallway. Wasn't a fan of this place either, but it was better than being in one of the hospital rooms. He was lucky he only came out of that battle with the shrapnel wound on his cheek; it needed a dozen or so stitches, but that was it.

Barely needed to be admitted in the first place.

He couldn't have been here for more than a few hours though- he had a bad habit of not keeping track of time.

Updates were slow to come by though.

Still... shouldn't be too long now.

He tried not to get caught up in waiting, in counting every faint tick that came from the clock nearby.

The sound of familiar footsteps coming down the hallway was enough to distract him from it though; and he had no doubts that the footsteps were aimed at him.

Heavy on the heels; wide, broad gait- very little shift in speed, always consistent with each step.

Calculated and braced- always ready to stand ground when needed.

A unique footprint; unique energy signature- one he didn't have to fully sense to know who it was.

His profile was tall, broad- taller than him by a good foot at least, wider than him by two.

Energy was heavy on the shoulders, heavy in his footsteps, but light across the board; it was unsettled- concerned.

The footsteps didn't take long to find him, then again he wasn't all that difficult to miss most of the time. Easy to spot in a crowd.

"I just got done speaking with the doctor," Jax spoke, as he walked into the room, and took the chair next to him; a metallic arm bumped against his own as the man's much larger stature barely seemed to fit in the small chair. "Surgery went just fine apparently; she'll pull through with no complications." A tone spoken in genuine relief. "Like she normally does." Followed by a sense of mild exasperation- a hint that this had happened one too many times to be comfortable with anymore.

Stomach split open with organs poured out, but... she would live.

Just another scar to grow over her skin.

That was what was important here.

Kenshi gave a quiet sigh of relief and leaned back against the wall behind him. It wasn't that he had any doubts about Sonya pulling through this with ease- this wasn't the first time, or her first scar. But years played a dangerous toll on the body. It wouldn't be long before the next knife went in too deep. "That's good to hear," he replied.

"Not exactly the phone call I wanted to wake up to at two in the morning."

He chuckled lightly at Jax's answer.

Jax had been Sonya's emergency contact for years now. So whenever something like this happened, something this drastic, he got a phone call to inform him of it. The man wouldn't easily admit that he hated the sound of a ringing phone most days- afraid of what message might play for him on the other side. It made him a little paranoid, especially since Sonya very rarely told him what she was up to.

Like the excursion they had just finished, for instance.

Definitely not something Jax wanted to just find out about.

Still, he was quick to arrive- quick to get information regarding the whole thing.

It was good to have him around.

... Although Kenshi couldn't help but to remember a long-past time where he would flinch every time he heard those heavy footsteps getting closer- even if they weren't directed at him necessarily.

Jax was Sonya's first partner.

He was someone who could never be replaced, someone she wouldn't replace- even after he had dropped from the Special Forces.

When Kenshi joined two years after the Tournament, Sonya took him on under her own wing; and it didn't take long before their partnership grew, and they were running every OP together. Something about them just clicked when they were together. But even back then, she only mentioned Jax a few times by name, but never said much else about him; he got the jest of it though, and knew it wasn't something she wanted to talk about.

Over time, she gradually told him about the Tournament, told him the horrors she barely escaped from, and admitted she brought him on because they were desperate for allies. Even if his telekinesis abilities had been an issue for her at first- which was a story for another time.

And while he had been at the Tournament himself, he had managed to avoid the chaos that had ultimately gone down.

...

Then there was the ordeal with Shinnok, and then Quan Chi- and Sonya was able to bring Jax back from Revenant form.

Not the same, but... he was alive again.

Right off the bat, Kenshi got the impression that Jax didn't like him- well, not so much of an impression, but a confirmed theory. Jax was Sonya's first partner; her Commander, and he didn't like the idea of her being in some stranger's hands- especially not a blind one.

(Not that Jax would ever admit to that one either, but Kenshi knew).

Eventually, he and Sonya ran an OP, went head-to-head with some Black Dragons, and she got injured. Bullet to the leg, clipped the artery- although nothing too terribly serious; he kept pressure on her wound the entire ride home, ensuring she didn't bleed to death in the back of an armored truck. The situation had been out of his hands on that one, like most of them were, but he did what he could in the aftermath.

And just like now, Jax came to the hospital to visit her; the need to know about her health and safety was enough to bribe him onto SF property.

Only, back then, that incident seemed to prove his inability to protect Sonya.

It proved his naive recklessness.

Their first direct encounter with one another, and he ended up getting hard-clocked in the jaw and knocked to the floor. Barely maintaining consciousness, and possibly swallowing a tooth or two, he couldn't really recall the details now. And Kenshi would admit that he probably deserved it back then- maybe he had gotten too reckless in battle, maybe he shouldn't have let her out of his sight. But Sonya was far better adapted in those situations than he had been; she didn't need him breathing down her neck every time she took two steps.

Still... it took Jax three years to apologize for it, and even then, Kenshi didn't accept it; he insisted that it wasn't necessary. He needed to do better- needed to be a better partner for whoever he might get stuck with down the road. He wasn't accustomed to running in pairs, and was used to only looking after himself. He needed to change that if he intended to join the Special Forces.

And he did.

And here he was, decades later, still stuck in the same situation.

"You alright?" Words strung together with a hint of concern. "Something happen to your face?"

Kenshi chuckled and touched briefly at the thin padding on his cheek. "Yeah, piece of shrapnel got me- got a couple of new stitches out of it, but I'll be fine," he assured. He moved his hands back to knit together in front of him, keeping his fingers tightly compressed to one another. He was still trying to ignore the warmth of her blood filling the spaces between his fingers and gloves- a sensation that had yet to leave him be. "... I should've been able to do more- I shouldn't have let her out of my sight." A brief pause. "You know what I mean."

"The only reason she survived for so long, and was in such a recoverable condition, was because of you," Jax reminded- no doubt getting the information from the doctor, or someone on the wait staff. "You helped keep her alive, that's all that matters."

He wasn't so sure about that though.

This wasn't the first time Kano's blade had cut into her, had spilled her open.

It had happened before in his absence, when Sonya only had herself to defend and protect. And she had made it back to HQ before, her stomach in her own hands, and had pulled through the surgeries and recovery on her own.

In the back of that helicopter, he did what he could to save her; but in the end, he didn't get the feeling that he was really needed there. On one hand, she would've been just fine on her own.

"Maybe," Kenshi replied. "I just... I should've been there for her- before it happened. It never should've happened in the first place."

"Look, you know Sonya- you've been running with her for years now. And you know the beef she's got with Kano; those two have a death sentence on one another," Jax spoke. "They've been trying to kill each other for decades now- always breathing down each other's neck. This is just another one of their conflicts. Believe me, I don't like it either; I don't like seeing her getting carved up by his knife. But this is not a conflict either of us can get in-between. This for them, and them alone- as painful as it is to see the aftermath like this."

Kenshi knew Jax was speaking the truth in that regard- there was no arguing with that.

There was no getting in-between, or even so much as stopping Sonya and Kano when they crossed paths.

They had each other's names carved into bullets and blades.

"She'll be fine."

She would be.

She had to be.

He moved his hands to his neck and leaned back into the wall behind him- shifting his weight and pressing his fingers against the base of his skull. He could feel that headache from before slowly creeping its way in; no doubt it was being partly fueled by the uncomfortable atmosphere of the hospital.

"You sure you're okay?"

Concerned once more.

"I'm fine," Kenshi repeated, as he dropped his hands back forward again. "I just..." he stopped in an attempt to put his thoughts into coherent phrases. He didn't end up with much else but a vague hand gesture, and quiet laugh caught under his breath; exhausted and breathless. "... I'm in love with her, Jax."

There was an understandable pause.

Understandable silence.

And as hard as he tried to block it all out, he could feel the surge of thoughts running through the man's head- although not necessarily reading them; they were a complicated whirlwind playing against the backdrop of silence though.

His admittance... it couldn't have been all that surprising though.

Jax had to have known- or at least gotten a hint, or an idea of it all.

Maybe it was just the direct approach, maybe it was the hearing of such a confirmation out loud that made him go quiet.

"Does she..." Jax didn't finish his sentence, but he knew where it was going regardless.

"Yeah," Kenshi nodded, simply enough. "We've been..." and then words decided to fail him next- deciding not to finish his train of thought. The openness left him contemplating whether or not he wanted to finish them to begin with.

"Since when?"

He rubbed at his jaw slightly, almost wanting to laugh at their shared nerves. "Port Said."

"Port Said- that was three years ago," Jax reminded him- a slight hint of disbelief in his voice.

Okay, so maybe it wasn't so noticeable after all, which was actually a good thing.

"Yeah, it was."

He heard Jax give out a sigh, and heard him rub at the back of his neck- listening to the sound of metal against skin. "Something tells me that I shouldn't be surprised- and yet, I am. And considering that this is the first time I'm hearing about this, from you of all people... I'm assuming that no one else knows."

That much was complicated.

With their overall work schedules, it was easy to hide a relationship like theirs- after all, no one so much as batted an eye when they were together. They had been together for over two decades with nothing short, or more, of a professional standing with one another. And with family issues on both sides... that kind of illusion worked well for them. It wasn't that they intended to keep things hidden, it was just... easier for them to do it until the time was right.

Which, one would think, after three years, it would've come along by now.

"No, we uh... we didn't exactly want to create a scandal," Kenshi answered- her position as General of the Special Forces, as well over all of Earthrealm, made it a touchy subject as well. "Hell, I probably shouldn't even be telling you about it."

"So why are you?"

Good question.

"Scared, I guess," he replied. "Been through these kinds of situations with her before, sure, just... not like this." In the three years, they had gone on plenty of OPs together, plenty of death runs it would seem- but they always came out fairly unscathed. Nothing serious anyways. Nothing like this.

He had always worried for her when she got injured, but this time it felt different. This time she wasn't just his partner, or just the General of the Special Forces. This time she was someone he had confessed to, that he had exposed a damning weakness to. They had both screwed up with other people in the past, and this... this was the first time that either of them were comfortable with forgiving themselves for it.

It had been a long journey to get to that point of self-forgiveness.

He didn't want to see it end so soon.

"I know you love her too though," Kenshi continued. "So knowing that you can get through this makes it a little easier on the nerves."

Jax gave a quiet laugh and moved one heavy hand to his shoulder, tightly gripping it with metallic fingers. "Sonya's one of the greatest people to have ever walked into my life- I wouldn't be here without her," he spoke. "And yeah, I love her- I can't deny that. But I'm not in love with her. That's you, that is all on you."