We won't be caught up

The setting is planet Earth, the city of Chicago ___________________________________________ A couple of days passed, and Flora found herself looking forward to Cross's nighttime visits. She remembered their conversations and trips, and she couldn't help but smile. It brought her an indescribable joy. It was a pure, childlike happiness that filled her heart with unimaginable excitement. Little did she know that Cross was experiencing the same emotions. As he tinkered with the engine of another broken-down car, he couldn't help but smile, remembering her smile and radiant gaze. Rimfire noticed this and began to look at his friend with increasing displeasure. "It's the same as always..." he remarked one day. "What do you mean?" Cross asked. "You're always in the garage, leaving in the evenings and returning late at night. I thought we'd be together here," said Rimfire, looking at his friend with a sad expression. Cross remembered how, when he was still a child, Rimfire used to follow him around, taking part in his reconnaissance missions. His forays into the desert were not always safe or harmless, as there was a risk of being captured by slavers. Later, as he grew older, Cross became a scout. Rimfire wanted to follow in his footsteps, but Cross discouraged him, and the mouse joined the main resistance forces. After being ambushed, he and his partner were seriously wounded and barely managed to escape the Plutarkian forces. After being treated in a hospital, Cross was transferred to a workshop, which upset Rimfire. Over time, they grew distant from each other. When they were stranded on another planet, Rimfire hoped that their time together would return, but he was mistaken. "Okay, let's go on patrol together today," Cross suggested, and he saw Rimfire's face light up. They drove around the city, carefully scanning the surroundings, until they reached the outskirts. There was a wastewater treatment plant. At first, it didn't attract much attention. As they were about to leave, Rimfire noticed one of the very familiar thugs entering the plant. Cross informed Trottle about it. "Keep your head down, just watch," he commanded. As it turned out, the plant belonged to Limburger, but several hours of surveillance yielded nothing. "I'm going to scout," Cross said, taking off his helmet. "Wait, it's very dangerous to go there alone. When was the last time you were in intelligence? Maybe we should wait for Uncle Modo," the Rimfire tried to dissuade him, hiding his excitement. "Don't worry, I haven't forgotten how to do it," Cross replied with a smile. "If you're not back in half an hour, I'll come after you," the Rimfire declared. "Deal," said Cross, removing his leather jacket while keeping a close eye on the building plan. He quietly approached the perimeter gate and slipped inside like a gray shadow. After circling the vast area along the high concrete wall, the mouse found himself near the main building. Hiding behind a small stone structure, he began to observe. After a while, one of the thugs emerged through a small side door. Cross quietly crept towards it and, stepping almost silently, entered the building after the unsuspecting mercenary, quickly ducking behind a large pipe nearby. Once inside the long, dark corridor, Cross walked along it, listening to the surrounding sounds of machinery, and soon heard the sounds of voices. The corridor led to a huge hall, where the cutthroats were located. In the middle of the hall was a space transporter. "Now that's interesting," he thought, just in time to duck behind a pillar to avoid a couple of passing mercenaries. Cross couldn't even send a message to Rimfire, as he hadn't brought a transmitter with him. More than one recon mission had been thwarted by an untimely internal communication. Deciding that he had seen enough, Cross quietly slipped into the same corridor and headed for the exit. But as he approached the exit, he heard the sound of approaching footsteps and a stern voice from the adjacent corridor: "What are you doing here?" A gun was pointed at him. A man in a leather vest and pants came around the corner. Their encounter was inevitable, and the gray man knew it. "Yeah, so... I got lost... I'm looking for a bathroom," Cross explained awkwardly, raising his hands. He managed to grab the mercenary's arm with the gun pointed at him. In the next moment, a gunshot rang out. The bullet hit a wide pipe under the ceiling, filling the corridor with hot steam. The mouse took advantage of this situation and delivered a couple of punches to the mercenary's face. The mercenary collapsed, losing consciousness. Realizing that it was time to leave, Cross ran out of the building without hiding. As he reached the street, a siren began to wail, alerting people to the danger. The area was swarming with thugs, searching every bush. The time allotted by the Patron had already passed, and Cross was afraid that the guy would enter the factory grounds and fall into a trap. As he moved from building to building, he gradually reached the checkpoint. There wasn't much time left. Soon, several jeeps filled with mercenaries arrived at the factory, responding to an alarm. This provided an opportunity for Cross to discreetly slip out of the gates. As he approached the place where Rimfire was waiting, he saw that Vincent, Trottle, Modo, and Carbina had already arrived. "What the hell were you doing in there? I told you not to go in," Trottle said, grabbing Cross by the collar of his shirt. "Calm down. Cross is a former spy, he knew what he was doing," Carbina said, gently touching her boyfriend's shoulder. "That's why I'm here, You've raised the alarm," the leader replied. Cross sighed heavily, finding Trottle's remark quite fair, then told him what he had seen, and it was decided to keep an eye on the place. After all, if there was a transporter, sooner or later something would be transported through it. "Won't there be any fun?" Vincent said, disappointed, realizing that there would be no gunfire. "It won't," Carbina confirmed sternly. Modo stayed to watch. The others returned to the garage. "You're leaving again," the Rimfire remarked disappointedly, watching Cross check his bike before the evening ride to Flora. "Yes," he confirmed, putting on his helmet. The patron could not admit to himself that he was beginning to be jealous of his friend's new passion. In the traffic jam Cross was stuck not far from the hotel. He looked around. A little ahead was a Chevrolet Nova, green in color, and from it came a melody. Yo siento lo que no quiero sentir Llamo para acabar no voy a seguir Asf me voy por que No estas sola Ahora se — estoy solo Me besaste y te cref pero que tonto Escaparme de aquf pero a donde? Es tu amor para mi? Estoy loco pensando en ti Se que si me das la serial Para siempre dos — tu y yo Solo se que es la verdad Para tf solo vivo yo Veneno son tus labios, mi flor Que sin tf ya no puedo mas Dejame tu beso, amor Pero quiero mas quiero mas When he reached the balcony, Flora, as if sensing it, immediately came out onto the balcony and embraced him. "I'm glad to see you," she said with a gentle smile. "I'm glad to see you too," he replied, returning her embrace. After climbing down from the building's wall, they had to escape from the pursuit again. This time, Cross took his bike into the slums, and they spent some time winding through the dilapidated houses. Finally, when they saw a suitable one, Cross decided to hide on its roof, riding his bike up the steep wall. Flora was almost used to such maneuvers, but she still closed her eyes and clung to Cross during these maneuvers. When they got off the bike, they approached the half-collapsed roof parapet and saw thugs on ATVs and open jeeps speeding past the building. "What do they want from us?" Flora was perplexed. "I'd like to know," Cross said, although he knew they needed a girl, but he didn't scare her with his guesses. Flora moved away from the edge of the roof and sat down on a concrete block. Cross sat down next to her. "Tell me about yourself," Cross suddenly asked. "I don't have anything to tell you. You can find out everything on the Internet," Flora replied. "Well, maybe you have some hobbies that you haven't told reporters about?" Cross said. Flora gave him a suspicious look. "No, no... I didn't mean... It's just... " the mouse was at a loss, afraid that the girl might be offended. "Let's talk about your hobbies instead. What are your interests besides repairing things?" asked Flora, folding her arms. "Well... I play the guitar," Cross replied. "That's great, the guitarist, then. Can you dance?" there was another question. "Uh... No," said Cross, taken aback. "That's strange. You have such a smooth feline gait. I was sure that you were an excellent dancer," the girl said. "What a walk..." Cross frowned and thanked his helmet for the hundredth time, which reliably hid his emotions. "You've never danced with anyone?" Flora couldn't believe it. Cross shook his head no. "Let's give it a try," Miss Deloren said, standing up. She pulled her smartphone out of her pocket and found the right melody. Who can say where the road goes Where the day flows, only time And who can say if your love grows As your heart chose, only time Who can say why your heart sighs As your love flies, only time And who can say why your heart cries When your love lies, only time Who can say when the roads meet That love might be in your heart And who can say when the day sleeps If the night keeps all your heart Night keeps all your heart. "Don't... I can't do it," Cross said. "You won't know until you try," she said, pulling him to the center of the roof, away from the jagged pieces of rebar. "I'm going to step on your feet," the mouse said. "Art requires sacrifice. I'm the sacrifice," she said. The girl showed him a couple of waltz moves, then put him in a stance, made him straighten his shoulders, put her arm around him, placing her hand in the middle of his back, one hand on his shoulder, the other in his hand. "In a dance, the lead is taken by the partner, the partner only follows," Flora explained. The girl's excitement was contagious. Cross wanted to see if he could do it himself. He took a step and immediately stepped on her foot. "Sorry," he said. "Go ahead, don't stop," she said. While he was trying to dance, he probably apologized a thousand times for his awkwardness, but she just smiled and encouraged him. Although he felt like he wasn't dancing, but rather awkwardly standing still. Cross occasionally observed her. How she transformed in an instant. The cool breeze blew through her light blonde hair, and she had no idea how tenderly and admiringly he was looking at her. "So set her free... You can do it," he remembered Trottle saying, and he felt that Flora was gradually freeing herself from her fears, and his heart was warm and happy. Soon, things were beginning to work out. "There you are. I told you it would work out," she assured him. "I just have a good teacher," Cross smiled. Back on the balcony of her room, they lingered for a long time. There was an unspoken tension between them. It was as if they were both afraid to acknowledge their feelings for each other. "Well, good night. Thank you for the dance lesson," he said as he prepared to jump over the railing. "Cross," she said. He turned around, waiting for something. "Good night," the girl said. "And you," he replied, hugging her. Flora hugged him back, and the next minute he was gone, jumping off the balcony. The girl returned to the room.