#Tyler Rake fan fic

[chickensarentcheap]

Lost and Found- Chapter 26

Fandom: Extraction

Pairing: Tyler Rake and Esme Drummond (established OFC. However, you do not need to read the other fics to understand this one)

Tagging: @tragiclyhip @themaradwrites @secretaryunpaid @youflickedtooharddamnit @munstysmind @residentdormouse @thebejeweledwatercat @asirensrage @theesirenteller @ninjasawakenedmystar @alisbackalleybbq @arrthurpendragon @ocappreciation @occommunity @fanficanatic-tw @karimac @kmc1989

Warnings: profanity, brief mentions of blood, bruises, scrapes, cuts. Nothing major.

Link to Ao3: https://archiveofourown.org/works/43179357/chapters/134444914

My tag list is OPEN. Please just message me or comment on this post to be added :D

*****

The house is one of half a dozen Nik has collected around the world; located on the Amalfi Coast along the southern edge of Italy’s Sorrentine peninsula. A highly secure five-bedroom, six-bathroom villa that backs onto a cliff that overlooks the Tyrrhenian Sea; built a kilometre from the main road and hidden from sight by a dense, expansive lemon grove.

Despite the years of both work experience and friendship, he had never set foot in any of her homes; business always being conducted in neutral yet secretive places, over the telephone, or even -years before- at his old shack in the outback. They have always travelled in different circles; Nik’s beyond-the-job friendships extending to powerful politicians, multi-million and billionaire businessmen, heads of organized crime and the shady, top-notch lawyers that defended them. Tyler prefers to stick with the couple of buddies he’s known for years; the ones that he can trust with nearly every one of his darkest and deepest secrets. Koen and Rata both serving with him in the ‘normal’ ranks of the Australian Army before he secured his place with SASR. The former his direct superior officer for several years; since the day he’d shown up at boot camp as a cocky, wet-behind-the-years eighteen-year-old.

While Nik prefers the sophisticated, luxurious life that being a gun runner and the head of her mercenary business provides her, Tyler has always lived well below his means. Able to afford much more than that shack in the outback and even the house in the Broome, but never feeling the need for something more expensive and flashy. Even keeping the same old pickup he’d had since he was a teenager; doing his own repairs for nearly two decades before finally running the old girl into the ground.

Their distinct differences had prevented him from developing something more with Nik; drawn instead to the normalcy and practicality that Esme brought into his life. She had always longed for a much simpler and quieter existence; preferring not to draw attention to herself and never surrounding herself with those that they encountered in their respective careers Somehow managing to keep the two sides of her life -of HERSELF- completely separate; leaving the job behind the second a mission wrapped and able to -no matter how brief- enjoy a normal life. The job didn’t control her, and she didn’t obsess over her successes and failures. Indulging instead in all the little moments that came with routine and domesticity. Nik, however, was unable ever to let the job go. Spending every waking moment immersing herself in the lifestyle and enjoying its spoils. And she certainly never entertained the idea or wish of something more beyond it; laughing off any suggestion that perhaps marriage and children and settling down were somewhere in her cards.

He had never realized he wanted any of that either; his first marriage had crashed and burned, and he’d been a complete and utter failure as a father. But then he’d met Esme, and everything quickly changed. HE changed. Finding himself both mesmerized and intrigued by the love and joy she somehow still possessed for life and everyone in it, the whimsy she possessed, and those hopeful and wistful dreams that she carried with her everywhere she went.

THAT was someone he could see carving out a future with.

Upon arrival, he reluctantly puts his trust in the medic to ‘deliver’ Esme to the waiting doctor; a longtime colleague of Nik’s who has attended to many injuries -both minor and life-threatening and everything in between- over the course of the last decade and a half. The largest of the villa’s guest rooms is already prepared and stocked with various medical equipment and supplies: a machine to monitor vitals, an IV stand and a pain medicine pump. And it isn’t until that moment that he’s able to register his discomfort; plagued by near-crippling mental and physical exhaustion. His entire body screaming in pain; his lower back on fire, both his knees stiff and painful, and his head pounding from a likely concussion of his own. Yet he knows sleep will likely elude him. Plagued by a potent mixture of emotions; the profound worry for Esme, the lingering regret and guilt for his choices, and his momentary lapse of judgement. And a rage that remains on a low boil when it comes to both Alessio, his actions, and Winston’s betrayal and the words he’d spoken in the basement.

Instead of allowing himself to second-guess his decisions and plot revenge, he focuses on Millie. Carefully unbuckling her from the booster seat in the back of one of Nik’s many chauffeured cars, easily lifting her with one arm and tucking her tight into his chest. Her legs and arms dangle loosely as her head rests on his shoulder; not offering up even the slightest of flinches or mumbles when he tosses her sequined unicorn backpack -full of her art supplies, finished pictures, and her beloved doll and koala bear- over his shoulder.

“Her room’s the first one at the top of the stairs.” Nik nods toward the central staircase; gleaming white and gray marble accompanied by polished steel handrails and glass panels. “On the right.”

It makes the bitterness return; the realization that Millie has her own ‘place’ in Nik’s home. An expansive and beautiful suite fit for a princess, decorated in all of her favourite colours, holding all of her favourite toys and belongings, the closets filled with her clothes. He had been robbed of all of that; never getting the chance to put a crib together, change a single diaper, put her in a bubble gum pink onesie, or slip one of those ridiculous flowered headbands onto her head. He never got to tuck her in and read her a bedtime story; he was never able to help with potty training or assist with brushing her teeth. He hadn’t witnessed her going from rolling from back to front and side to side to sitting up and eventually pulling up into a stand. He wasn’t there when she’d taken her first steps, hadn’t seen her learning to run, and hadn’t heard her first words.

So many missed opportunities. Things that others had been blessed to experience. While he’d never even known of her existence.

He uses a hip to push open the door and an elbow to flick on the light. The room is enormous; possessing its own walk-in closet and ensuite bath and a separate crafting area sectioned off with a dinosaur AND princess-themed room divider. An entire wall is taken up with built-in shelves, hosting books, stuffed animals, and a wide selection of Barbie dolls, action figures, and matchbox cars. A wrought iron canopy bed sits in the middle of the room and atop a three-stepped platform; the frame decorated with pink and gray camouflage drapes and the mattress covered in a Batman comforter.

Tossing the backpack in a nearby chair, he climbs the steps to the bed; Millie clutched to his chest with one arm as his free hand pulls back the blankets and flat sheet. And she gives a slight whimper and a heavy sigh when he places her in the middle of the mattress; her eyes flickering open as she lets out a long, soft “daddy” and reaches up for him.

Time seems to stand still. His entire body tenses as the emotions -profound and overwhelming- rush through him. It’s been a long time since he’s been called that; over a decade since Austin had addressed him that way during his last weeks in the hospital as the cancer ravaged him. Esme had been the one who’d given him a semblance of hope; that one day he’d once more be given that title and he’d hear the word come out of a little one’s mouth. When she left, that dream had evaporated; gone was the one person he could ever see making that kind of commitment and building that kind of future with. And while Millie may not be fully aware of what she’s saying in a semi-conscious moment, it still nearly brings him to his knees; tears welling in his eyes as his throat tightens and his heart hammers within his chest.

Grumbling her displeasure of being awakened, Millie sits up in bed; her brow furrowed and eyes half closed, a pout curving her lips. Stuck in a state of disorientation and confusion as she glances around the room. “Where are we?”

“We’re at Auntie Nik’s house. The one in Italy. Remember how I told you? About how we were going to stay here for a few days?”

“Oh…” Yawning noisily, she presses the heels of her palms into her eyes. “...yeah…I remember. Where’s momma?”

“The doctor is taking a look at her. Just to make sure she’s doing alright. Then she’s going to sleep. Just like you’re going to. You want jammies on or are you just gonna sleep in your clothes or…?”

“Jammies, please. Where’s Franklin? And Posie? I can’t sleep without Franklin or Posie. Posie needs her jammies on, too. They’re with mine. They match.”

Collecting the doll and koala out of the backpack, he drops them on the bed. “And the jammies…”

“In my dresser. Top middle drawer.”

He searches for pyjamas for both her and the doll, finally locating matching nightgowns: white cotton with thin straps, the fabric emblazoned with colourful butterflies.

“Those are my favourite!” Millie enthuses, as she wriggles out of her clothes. “Mommy made those for us! Out of pillowcases! They’re really supposed to be dresses, but I always liked wearing them as jammies. So does Posie.”

“Your mum’s a pretty talented one, isn’t she?”

“Most of the time. Just don’t ask her to cook. She’s not very good at that. At all. My dirty clothes go in there…” She nods towards the ensuite bathroom.. “...that’s where the washer and dryer are.”

“You have your own washer and dryer? You're four.”

“It’s not like I know how to use them. They’re just there. For convenience, I guess. Well, I do know HOW to put stuff in the wash and in the dryer. I just can’t reach to turn them on.”

“You are way too smart for your own good.”

“Mom says that all the time.”

Retreating to the ensuite, tossing the clothes into the washer; leaving the door open for more to be added later. And when he returns to the bedroom, both Millie and the doll are already in their pyjamas; the four-year-old waiting in bed with a hairbrush in one hand, and a package of elastics in the other.

“We have to do my hair. Or it gets really knotted when I’m asleep and then it’s really hard to brush it in when I get up.. And it hurts like hell too! Do you know how to braid hair?”

“No.”

“I can teach you!”

“How about we leave that for tomorrow? When it’s not so late. Think maybe we could do something else with it? Put it in a bun or a ponytail or…?”

“Ponytail is alright. But you gotta put it up on the top of my head, or I can’t sleep. ‘Cause it hurts to lie on it.”

He gingerly and patiently works the brush through Millie’s tresses, then gathers it in both hands and secures it with the hair tie she passes to him. It’s a simple experience shared with his daughter, yet it brings back vivid memories of similar moments with her mother. Those times when Esme would be busy in the kitchen; focused on a recipe she was trying to recreate or the baking that had that little cabin filled with delicious aromas. He’d approach her from behind; sneaking a kiss to her cheek or temple before putting her hair back for her.

“What else?”

“I gotta brush my teeth.”

“How ‘bout we skip it tonight?”

“Momma won’t like that.”

“I won’t tell her if you won’t. We’ll just make sure you brush them twice as long after breakfast.”

“Does that work? Does it really make up for not doing it before bed?”

“Of course. Would I lie to you?”

Millie shakes her head, ponytail swaying from side to side.

“So does your mum read a story to you or…?”

“Sometimes. Not every night. Only if I ask. I’m too tired tonight. No stories. But thank you.”

“Do you want me to just tuck you in or…?”

“Will you snuggle with me? Just for a little bit? It’s been a really bad day, and I’m still super sad. I need a snuggle. A really good one. And momma can’t do it, so…”

He agrees to the snuggle; moving towards the door in order to shut off the lights, pauses with his hand on the switch. “You got a night light or something?”

“Nope. I’m not scared of that dark, daddy. I’m not a baby!”

He wants to tell her that yes, she is. That she’s HIS baby. How regardless of how old she gets and how many children she has of her own, she always WILL be. And while the first time being called daddy had been a shock, the second occurrence hits even harder; the realization that it was a fully conscious decision on Millie’s part and not just a slip of the tongue… a random moment…while still teetering on the edge of sleep. He’s thankful for the darkness that envelopes the room when he turns off the light, able to hide the tears sparkling in his eyes and the millions of questions a very observant Millie will lob at him. And climbing into bed beside her, he wraps both arms around her; that tiny body snuggling tightly against him, doll and bear under one arm, her face nestled in his ribs.

“You good?”

“I’m good. You’re nice and warm. And comfy. You make me feel safe. Like I don’t have anything to be scared of.”

“There’s nothing to be afraid of. No one can hurt you anymore. I won’t let them.”

“Promise?”

“Promise. And I’d promise with a million pinkie promises.”

“That’s a lot!”

“That’s how honest I’m being. You and your mum ARE safe. And I’ll make sure you stay that way. I won’t let anyone hurt you guys. And there’s nothing I wouldn’t do for either of you. You know that, yeah?”

“Yeah.” Nuzzling her face against his side, she places her free hand on his chest. “Will you draw on my back? Please? It helps me sleep.”

He obliges, his own eyes closing as his fingertips create random patterns on her back. Several minutes passing before she yawns and raises her head to look at him, eyes sparkling in the moonlight that streams through the curtains.

“Daddy?”

“Millie?”

“Can I ask you something?”

“You’re supposed to be sleeping.”

“I’ll go to sleep AFTER I ask my question.”

“What is it?”

“You and momma lived together, right? Before I came along? In Australia?”

“We did.”

“In the house you live in now?”

“No. A different house. In a different part of Australia.”

“But the house you live in now is the house we are ALL going to live in? Or do we have to get a new one?”

“We won’t have to get a new one for a while. There’s enough room for all of us. And maybe one or two more people.”

“That means you and momma can start having babies!”

“That’s something your mum and I would have to talk about. I don’t know if she’s quite ready for that. Having babies.”

“Well, I hope she’s ready soon. ‘Cause I really want to be a big sister. And I’m not getting any younger!”

“If you think you’re not getting any younger, how do you think I feel? I’m way older than you are.”

“How much older?”

“A lot.”

“How much is that? How old ARE you?”

“I’m forty.”

“Holy shit!”

“Excuse you? Forty’s not THAT old.”

“It’s middle age! You’re older than momma!”

“I am.”

“Momma’s only thirty-four. But she’s going to be thirty-five soon. Maybe we can have a party for her. For her birthday.”

“I don’t see why we couldn’t.”

“We can even make her a birthday cake and put up balloons and streamers and play games! We can even take her out for dinner!”

“You got it all planned, do you?”

“Most of it. I don’t know about the guest list, though.”

“That’s something we can talk about when it’s closer to the time. For now….” He drops a kiss on the top of her head. “...it’s time for bed. It’s late. And it’s been a really long day. Time to sleep, okay?”

“Okay.” Pushing herself up onto her elbow, she pecks his cheek, followed by the corner of his mouth. Her face buried in his ribs as she once more lies down next to him. “Goodnight, daddy. Love you.”

Tears threaten once more. “I love you, too. So very much.”

*****

He’s teetering on the edge of sleep when a soft knock comes to the door; Nik standing on the threshold, motioning for him to join her and the doctor in the hallway. Carefully slipping from under Millie’s arm and out of bed, he tucks the blankets around her slumbering form and then leans down to press a kiss to her forehead. Reluctantly leaving her side, he joins Nikand the doctor in the hallway, quietly shutting the door behind him.

“How’s she doing?” Nik inquires, her voice scarcely above a whisper.

“She’s finally asleep. I don’t know where she gets all that energy from. She wore me out a long time ago.”

“You’ve got your work cut out for you, daddy. She’s cute as hell, but she can be a real handful. And you’ve just been thrown right to the wolves.”

“Esme?” Tyler addresses the doctor. “ How is she?”

“Very lucky. Considering the intensity of the crash and the damage done to the vehicle, I’m surprised we’re not looking at life-threatening injuries. If not worse.”

“Anything I need to worry about or…?”

“For the most part, I agree with the medic’s findings. There’s no sign of internal bleeding, and there’s no dilation of the pupils, slurred speech, or difficulties with reflexes. And no confusion; she was able to tell me her full name, what day, month, and year it was, and give a very detailed description of what exactly happened. Ruling out a brain injury, the diagnosis remains the same; whiplash and a moderate to severe concussion. Both should begin to ease within the next few days. I do suspect a bruised liver and spleen, however. I’ll be able to monitor those over the next forty-eight hours. For any sign of tearing or rupture.”

“He does think the sternum is broken,” Nik pipes up. “Based on the severity of the pain. And limited movement.”

“Nothing more than a hairline fracture,” the Doctor explains. “And nothing that we could repair surgically or even cast for. The best course of action is none; just letting it heal on its own. She’ll need to rest it for at least four weeks; no lifting anything over ten pounds, no repetitive movement. She can wear a sling if she finds it lessens the discomfort. As far as I can tell, the majority of the pain is actually from the contusion caused by the seat belt; deep and prolific bruising from the top of her shoulder, running diagonally to the left hip. I have her on IV antibiotics and pain meds for the next twenty-four hours; after that I’ll be able to switch her to oral medication.”

“Can she eat or drink? If she wakes up hungry or thirsty…?”

“She’s allowed both solids and liquid. I suggest keeping meals small and light. Her system is in shock from the amount of injuries and the pain; anything too heavy could cause stomach upset. And preventing further discomfort is important at this time.”

“And how long will we have to stay here? When can I take her home?”

“Within a week, she should be able to move around quite freely and without much difficulty or pain. I wouldn’t suggest flying any sooner than that; the altitude would put pressure on the brain, and with the concussion, it could cause severe issues. Swelling, blood clots, aneurysms. It’s safer to wait seven days. After that, even when home, you’ll have to keep an eye on her; make sure she stays on top of her meds, and follows the rules when it comes to healing properly.”

“But she’s going to be okay? She’ll be back to normal? Eventually?”

“She’s young and healthy. There’s nothing to suggest she WON’T be back to normal. Just keep an eye out for anything that suggests trouble; severe headaches beyond what a concussion would provide, any unexplained swelling and redness anywhere on the body, a high fever, speech issues, or any loss of consciousness. If any of those happen, she has to be seen immediately. Wherever you are. Now…” Tilting his head to the side, his eyes narrow as he takes in the various bruises and cuts on Tyler’s neck and face. “...perhaps I should take a look at YOU now.”

“You don’t need to. I’m fine. I cleaned myself up. Fixed what I could. I don’t…”

“You should be looked at,” Nik gently persuades. “Esme wasn’t the only one in that accident. You’re pretty banged up. Just let the doctor take a look and…”

“I said I’m fine.” His voice stern. Harsher than it needs to be. “I’ve gone through a lot worse. And lived to tell about it. All I really need is some sleep.”

“If you have your own concussion or some internal damage or…”

Ignoring Nik, he once more addresses the doctor. “I’ll let you know if I start feeling worse. Right now, I’m just tired. I just need to rest. It’s been a hell of a long day. Thank you,” He offers his hand. “For taking care of her. If anything had have been seriously wrong…”

“She’s going to make a full recovery. And because of her good health and how she’s taken care of herself throughout her life, she’ll likely heal faster than most. Right now, rest and relaxation are her best friends. And keeping up with a med schedule. I’ve left my home and cell numbers on the nightstand in the bedroom; call if you have even the slightest bit of concern. I’ll be right over.”

Nodding in both appreciation and farewell, he turns on his heel to head for the bedroom next door.

“Tyler…wait…”

“Nik, not tonight. I’m not in the mood for this shit. I’m tired, and I’m sore, and I desperately need at least a few hours of sleep.”

“I wasn’t going to…”

“I don’t need to have the doctor look at me, and I sure as hell don’t need you getting on my ass. So if you're even thinking about bringing up me leaving when all this is over…”

“Actually, I WAS going to say that I had your things brought to the room. And that there are fresh towels and facecloths in the bathroom. I would have had one of the other guest suites made up, but I already knew you would argue with me; that you wouldn’t want to be away from her.”

“Despite how rough things have been…between us…I do appreciate it, Nik. Everything that you’ve done. Especially in the last few days. I don’t agree with what you did; not letting me know that Esme was alive and that I had a kid out there. And it’s going to take me a hell of a long time to get over it. I can’t pretend I’m not pissed off. That I’m not hurt. I can’t just turn all that off, you know? It isn’t something I can just forgive.”

“I couldn’t betray her trust. Not even for you. She relied on me; to keep her and Millie safe. And I…”

“Safe from who? Me? I wasn’t a threat to them. You didn’t need to protect them from me.”

“She wanted to protect you. She thought she was doing the right thing. And whether I agreed with that or not…”

“I’m not going to get into this right now. I just can’t do it. I’ve said everything I needed to say. Other than thank you. For taking care of her and Millie. Keeping them safe. You didn’t have to step up like that, but you did. And if it wasn’t for you, who knows where they’d be right now. Kinda scares me to even think about it.”

“I took care of them for YOU. Because I knew one day she’d track you down and you’d get that chance; to be a family and grow old together. I WANTED that for you, Tyler. I wanted you to get your ‘happy ever after.’ And I’ve never seen you as just a commodity. You’ve always been more than that. Much more.”

“I want to believe that, Nik. I do. But right now…”

“You’re hurt. You’re angry. And you’ve got every right to feel those things. I just hope one day you’ll realize what I did, I did for them and YOU. Try and get some rest. It’s been a long day. And Millie is going to have you up and bright and early, believe me.” “If it’s before the crack of dawn, I’m sending her to you.”

“Don’t even think about it. I plan on sleeping until noon.”

“You’re gonna up with the sun, and you know it. It’s just who you are. The way you’re made.”

“Try and relax, Tyler. It’s safe here. THEY’RE safe.”

“Sometimes that’s easier said than done.”

“In a week’s time, you’ll be back home. With your family. The chances of any threats finding you there…”

“There’s always a chance, Nik. You know that.”

“I’ll do what I can. When it comes to handling things in New York City. Making sure the trouble stays there. And once things settle down…for good…that’s it. You’re free.”

“Only if you’ll let me be.”

“It’ll be hard to let you go. We’ve been through a lot together. SEEN a lot.”

“You should know by now that you can’t get rid of me THAT easy. After all, you’re Auntie Nik, yeah? Something tells me Millie wouldn’t stand for you just up and disappearing.”

“She doesn’t have to worry about that. She’s my family. So is her mom. And so are you. Sleep well. You’ve earned it.”

Nodding in agreement and apprehension, he moves towards the guest room, hesitating as his fingers curl around the door handle, and just as Nik steps onto the top landing of the stairs. “Nik?”

She hesitates.

“Thank you.”

She manages a weary smile. “Goodnight, Tyler.”

*****

A long, hot shower makes him feel almost human again. Thirty minutes spent standing motionless under a punishing stream of hot water as it not only rid his hair and body of remaining remnants of debris and blood, but brought some relief to his lower back, base of his skull, and both shoulders. Afterwards in the light of the bathroom, he’s able to better assess the damage done to his body; various cuts and abrasions along both arms and legs, large bruises on the front and backs of his thighs and in the middle of his back, several smaller across his collarbone. A perfect impression of the steering wheel -and its emblem- covers the majority of his sternum, and the skin on the left side of his rib cage has begun to turn vivid, various shades of purple and blue. Far surpassing the damage done in Georgia and Vienna, even WITH the gunshot to his hand and to his lower left abdomen. The latter missing all vital organs and lodging near his hip; an easy removal for the medical team at the Graz-Karlau prison. Barely leaving a scar behind and requiring a very short rest and recovery time.

He navigates the bedroom by both the streaks of moonlight that spill through the window coverings and the glow given off by the portable ECG machine monitoring Esme’s vitals. Rummaging through the rucksack; he locates the lone pair of sweats he’d packed for his initial business trip; grimacing at the stiffness in his knees and discomfort in his back as he steps into them. The bed -more expansive than an average king- is more than large enough for both of them to sleep in, and for her to be kept safe from his tossing and turning; eager to spare her an errant elbow to the back or stomach or a knee into a thigh. And he creeps to her side, watching as she sleeps soundly; light, peaceful smile curving her lips’ with her face turned towards the window. The soft, silvery sheen the moon casts upon her face shows off the various cuts and bruises that she’d incurred earlier in the day; the vivid purple and blue upon her forehead, across the bridge of her nose, and on the tops of both cheeks and under one eye.

It’s painful to look at; the mere thought of her injured and in discomfort nearly splitting his heart in two. Hating his perceived negligence and failure to keep her safe had led her to this; hooked up to various wires and tubes from the IV and pain. Hurting far worse than he’d ever expected it to; believing that watching his son suffer and waste away had steeled him against witnessing someone experiencing pain and illness. But it aches to his very soul; twisting and wrenching at his guts and a sorrow -for someone who is still very much alive- creating a death grip around his heart. And emotion chokes at him as he crouches at the side of the bed; smoothing a hand over her hair and laying his palm on the top of her head, thumb repeatedly brushing across her brow.

“I’m so sorry, Me.” He grazes his knuckles over her bruised and swollen cheek. “I am so fucking sorry.”

She murmurs in her sleep, then releases a long, soft sigh as she nestles her cheek into his palm.

“And I’m sorry for being as angry and as hurt as I am. I know you did the best you could; that you left because you were scared, and you wanted to protect me. But you kept my daughter from me. When there was no reason to. And I don’t know how long it’s going to take me to get over that. If I ever really do. But that doesn’t mean I don’t love you. I have ALWAYS loved you. Those five years changed nothing.” Leaning forward, he presses a lingering kiss to her brow, then to her lips. “You sleep, okay? ‘Cause that’s the only way you’re gonna get better. Because that’s what Millie needs; her mom back to normal. And I need that too.” He pulls back with a heavy sigh; running the tip of his index finger down the bridge of her nose. “This is all going to be over soon. I promise. There’s nothing for you to be scared of anymore. No one can hurt you now. And they won’t hurt you EVER again.”

His knees crack, and he bites back the pain as he stands. The limp in his right leg more pronounced as he retreats to his side of the bed, peeling back the layers of blankets and slides underneath. His body is sore and weary, and his head immediately sinks into the pillow; the case and the crisp, linen sheets cool and refreshing against his skin. He’s never experienced this level of exhaustion; not even during the months of tedious and often agonizing physical therapy sessions that had preceded his release from the hospital in Dubai. It’s a tiredness that is bone…SOUL…deep; both limbs and eyes feeling impossibly heavy, his own body seeming rooted to its place. And despite the years of frequent bouts of insomnia, it isn’t long before rest claims him. Lulled to sleep by the faint beeping of the EKG machine, Esme’s soft rhythmic breathing, and the rolling of the waves as they wash up onto the shore.

*****

He sleeps soundly despite the pain and only over-the-counter pills to dull it, stirring only once when the nurse crept into the room in the dead of the night to change Esme’s IV and med bag and then reset the pump. He remembers a brief, exhausted chat; the nurse apologizing for waking him, the exchange of pleasantries, and his peppering of questions in regards to Esme’s vitals and the continued care she’ll be receiving. Already back asleep before the woman even finished her duties and slipped from the room. When he finally wakes for the day, it’s courtesy of a tiny hand repeatedly -and remarkably vigorously- shaking him and a tiny voice calling his name. And cracking open his eyes, he moans in discomfort when he’s immediately greeted by the sun’s harsh rays, followed by Millie’s wide, beaming smile as she stands at the side of the bed. Clad in her pyjamas with her doll under one arm, teddy under the other; her high ponytail having loosened in her sleep and now sitting at an awkward angle on the side of her head.

“Hi!” she chirps. “Hi, daddy.”

“Hey…”

“Did you sleep good?”

“Better than I expected to. Is something wrong?”

“Nope.”

“You’re okay?”

Millie nods.

“What are you doing? What…?”

“I’m hungry. My tum is complaining.REALLY loud. I went downstairs and looked for Carmen, but I couldn’t find her. And there’s no brekkie waiting in the kitchen. Usually, she has brekkie finished and waiting for me.”

“Who’s Carmen?”

“Auntie Nik’s cook.”

“Auntie Nik has a cook?”

“And someone that shops for her, someone that books all her appointments, a chauffeur, and a maid.”

“What does she do? If she has all those people doing everything for her?”

“Wears nice clothes and kicks butt and takes names.”

“Is that what you’re going to be like? When you’re older?”

“I’m already like that.”

Chuckling, he reaches out to playfully tug on her ponytail. “So I guess this means I better get my ass up, yeah? Can’t exactly do stuff on your own.”

“I CAN make my own breakfast. Well, just cereal and toast, but still, I’m ONLY four, so that’s pretty good, right? That I can do that?”

“Your mumma’s been doing a damn good job, that’s for sure. Teaching you things.”

“She wants me to be strong and independent. But not grow up too fast. But one day, I’ll be able to make pancakes and scrambled eggs and bacon. Not just boring old cereal and toast.”

“Are you trying to tell me you want something else? More than that?”

She giggles as she drops her chin to her chest. “I’m REALLY hungry. I could eat the shit out of a dead hippo.”

Smirking, he tosses off his blankets. “Where did you learn that?”

“I’m sorry, but I can’t give up my sources.”

“Well, you know what? I could eat the shit out of a dead hippo, too. So why don’t we go downstairs and raid the fridge, and see what we can dig up. Sound good?”

“Sounds good.” She steps back as he slides out of bed, her brow furrowing as she studies her mother’s bruised and battered and sleeping form.. “ What about momma, though? She’ll be all by herself. She might get lonely. What if she wakes up and we’re not here? She might be scared. And sad. I don’t want her to be scared and sad.”

“IF she wakes up, she knows we’re not far away. That we wouldn’t just leave her. She knows how much we love her; that we’d never just take off on her. Besides, she’s going to be doing a lot of sleeping for the next few days.”

“‘Cause the doctor said so?”

“It’s the best thing for her. So that her body can get better. And that’s what we want, yeah? Mumma to be all better?”

The four-year-old nods.

“How ‘bout you tuck her in? She’d like that.”

Her face visibly brightens. “Like a momma burrito?”

“Something like that. Don’t do it as tight, though. And be careful; you don’t want to get tangled up in all those wires and tubes. Careful and gentle, okay?”

Handing him her doll, she scurries around to Esme’s side of the bed; slipping her body between the machine and the IV stand and gingerly stepping over or slipping under various tubing and wires. Carefully spreading and smoothing the blankets over her mom’s body, then loosely tucking them underneath her. And a distinct sadness darkens her eyes and furrows her brow when she runs a palm over Esme’s hair and leans in to press a kiss to her cheek.

“I miss you, momma. I love you. You’ll feel better soon. I promise. Daddy and I will take really good care of you! Right, dad?”

Nodding, Tyler leans down to drop a kiss on the top of her head when she scurries back to his side; plucking the doll from his grasp.

“I’mma leave Posie here,” Millie announces, then proceeds to lift the top blanket and tuck her under it. “So she can keep an eye on mumma! And if mumma wakes up, she’ll see Posie here and know that I’m coming back for sure. ‘Cause I never leave Posie behind. Not for good!”

“You know, you have a really big heart in that little body of yours.”

“Momma always used to tell me that I got that from my daddy. That his heart was way bigger than his body, too. Is that really true? ‘Cause your body is super big!”

“Is that a polite way of calling me fat?”

“You’re not fat! You’re thick!”

He smirks. “I wonder where I’ve heard that before.”

“You’re like a giant! You’re really tall and crazy big! Do you think it’s true? What momma said? About your heart being bigger than your body? Because if it is, your heart is super huge!”

“You know what I think? I think your mum’s the most amazing human being I’ve ever known.”

“Next to me, right?”

“Yeah…” Scooping her up onto his arms, he presses pressing a kiss to her temple as he settles her on his hip. “...definitely next to you.”

*****

He relaxes in a poolside lounge chair; hair damp and matted to his head, his aching and tired body clad in a pair of board shorts bought during an impromptu shopping excursion with Nik and Millie. The latter fast asleep against his chest; snoring lightly, her eyes shielded by a pair of pink and purple polka-dotted sunglasses, her bathing suit -one of many she’d excitedly picked out- beginning to dry in the heat. Exhausted from the morning and early afternoon activities and the drama of the last seven days; the time spent in the sun and water solidifying her successful escape from New York City. Content and relaxed; confident that her old life is now firmly behind her and the new one is just lingering on the horizon. And despite the worry and sadness revolving around her mother’s injuries, she feels safe and secure; putting all of her trust into her surroundings and the people around her.

Nik joins them, standing at the side of his chairs with her hands shoved in the pockets of a pair of wide-legged, burgundy linen trousers and a pair of oversized sunglasses. A smile curling her lips as she glances down at a snoozing Millie.

“Out like a light.”

“She’s had a hell of a week. It was bound to catch up to her.”

“She doesn’t do that with just anyone. Fall asleep on them like that. Means she feels safe. Secure. She trusts you.”

“I’m not sure she’s making the right decision. Look what her mum’s trust in me got her.”

“What I said on the plane…about what happened…I didn’t mean for it to sound like I was blaming you.”

“That’s exactly what you meant for it to sound like. I know you, Nik; I know you don’t say shit you don’t believe. And you’ve never been one to pull punches.”

“I wanted an explanation. A reason. For how things went so wrong, so quick.”

“And I told you. They came out of nowhere. There’s no way I could have seen it coming. It just happened. And it happened THAT fast.”

“You didn’t hear anything? See anything? You..?”

“I was concentrating on driving. On getting us to the meet-up point. We’d just gone through all that fucking bullshit with Winston..”

“Which was probably weighing heavily on your mind. Probably had you on edge. Distracted.”

“...and all I wanted to do was get the fuck out of there. Get to you and Yaz and then to the airport. I thought the roads were clear; Wick had people blocking all the intersections, and you had eyes on things. Or at least I THOUGHT you did. Had you not pulled the guys early…”

“I thought you were in the clear. You were only three blocks away. I made a decision based on that. I did what I thought was best.”

“So did I. I did what I thought was best for Esme. To get her the fuck out of there. I had just gotten her away from Winston; all I had to do was get her to the airport and on that plane, and everything else was going to be easy. I trusted you to have the people in place. To have my six. And if I DID let my guard down, it’s because of that. Nothing else.”

“I admit, it wasn’t my best decision. I should have left them in place longer. Until we actually DID meet up. But…”

“I don’t want to talk about this anymore, Nik. You’re beating a dead fucking horse. I’m tired, and I’m sore, and I’ve got a lot on my plate. I don’t need this, too. Can we just let it go? I think you fucked up, you think I fucked up. Can’t we leave it at that?”

“I think I deserve an explanation. Not as your friend. But as your boss.”

“And I’ve told you everything there is to know. There isn’t always an explanation or a reason, Nik. Sometimes, shit just happens. There’s nothing simple about this job. It’s not just black or white. And you of all people should know that. You…”

When Milliie whimpers in her sleep, his mood abruptly changes; the tension in his jaw and shoulders releasing, the brightness returning to his eyes. And he smooths a hand over her and down her back, his lips soft as they press against her brow. “It’s alright, Amelia. I’m here. I’ve got you.”

She heaves a long, content sigh, then nestles her face against his chest and shoves her thumb into her mouth. And for several minutes, he and Nik remain silent; his chin resting on the top of Millie’s head and his hand rubbing her back in smooth, slow circles.

Nik uses a fingertip to sweep wayward strands of hair off of the little one’s forehead. “She’s beautiful.”

“She is. Esme and I do good work.”

“You most definitely do. Although I’m not sure how much work Esme actually put in. I think her genes were completely absent that day. Millie looks just like you.”

“That’s an awful thing to say about my kid, Nik. That she looks like her old man.”

“You know how many times Esme has heard it? How many people think she’s just a nanny? No one ever believes they’re actually mother and daughter. Until Millie opens her mouth of course; she tells stories EXACTLY like her momma does.”

“All over the damn place.”

“The only two people I know who can go off in five different directions and never get back to what started everything off.”

“You know how many times Esme will start a story, only for me to never find out what the original point of it was? Too many to count.”

“It’s just part of who she is. That exuberance and that light that she’s managed to hold onto. I’ve never met anyone like her, you know. Not in this circle, anyway. I don’t know how she does it; holds onto that optimism and that brightness. Everything she’s been through…the things she’s seen and the things she’s done…all of that has been stacked against her. Yet she’s still…Esme.”

“She’s the strongest person I’ve ever known. How many people do you think would have stuck around on that bridge? For someone like me?”

“Not a lot.”

“Yet she did. For some reason. She wasn’t leaving me there. And she had every reason to, believe me.”

“She saw the potential. Things about you that no one else did. Or maybe you just never LET people see them. See YOU.”

“Maybe a bit of both.”

“Maybe…”

“Were you there? When she was born?”

Nik nods. “I was.”

He glances down at his daughter; taking a deep breath and then noisily clearing his throat. A vain attempt at pushing away the emotion that threatens to choke him.

"Tyler…”

“Thank you.”

“For what?”

“Being there. For Esme. I’m glad she wasn’t alone.”

“She asked me. If I’d be the one to go in with her. And regardless of what you think, I tried telling her; convincing her to call you and let you know you were going to be a dad. I told her there was nothing for her to be afraid of; you weren’t going to ignore her call or turn her away or question whether or not the baby was yours. That there was nothing she could ever do to make you hate her that much.”

“I didn’t hate her at all. I never did. I loved her. I never STOPPED loving her.”

“And that’s what I told her. That you loved her and missed her and were spending all your time looking for her. That if there was ever a time TO contact you, that was it; the baby was very close to being born, the nursery was done, and the name was picked out. I told her you would be on the next plane there; to be with her and see your daughter come into the world.”

“But…”

“She was scared. Of rejection. Because she loved you, and her heart couldn’t take it; if you wanted nothing to do with her or the baby. I told her that that would never happen, but…”

“She’s pretty damn stubborn.”

Nik nods.

“You know I never got to see that with my son, either? Him being born? I was in Iraq; on my second tour with SASR. We were located just outside of Mosul. Mia was pissed about it; she was already six months pregnant when I signed up to go, and she knew there was no way I’d be back in time. I tried to justify it; I was one of the commanding officers, and they needed all hands on deck. Now I realize it’s just who I was; I wasn’t capable of putting her first. And I probably never even should have tried being a family man. I just didn’t have it in me.”

“You were young. You’d already spent years devoting everything you had to the military. It becomes ingrained in you. The only thing that really matters. Believe me, I know.”

“Sometimes I wonder if I ever really wanted to be. A husband and a father. At least back then.”

“You were in love. And you wanted to make her happy. You were willing to do whatever it took to make that happen.”

“I was. In love. Or I thought I was, at least. Took me until I was thirty-five to figure out it wasn’t the real deal. I think I just settled. The same way Mia did. I wasn’t really her type; she’d always been into lawyers and politicians and businesses. I was just some guy in the army. I wasn’t anything special.”

“To her, you were.”

“Guess she just wanted something different. Someone a little more dangerous. Younger.”

“And you were there. Ready, willing, and able. And lonely.”

“I don’t know what I was. Stupid, for the most part. But I’d lived practically my entire life without a family; my mum was long dead, and I’d already cut my dad out of the picture. Mia was there. I liked being around her. Not that we actually spent a lot of time together, considering her career kept her busy, and I was always being shipped off to different places.”

“And then your son came along…”

“He just sort of happened. We didn’t plan on having kids. She wasn’t even sure she wanted any. I was just so caught up in thinking I was in love and had found my ‘happily ever after’ that I didn’t really give a shit if we had any or not. But things happened, and he came along, and I tried my best to be a good dad. We know how THAT turned out.”

“That one choice you made…that one mistake…doesn’t mean you were a terrible father. It doesn’t negate the good things, Tyler. Or the love you had…you STILL have…for your little boy.”

“It was a hell of a mistake, Nik.”

“Doesn’t change the fact you loved him. That you still do. Or that HE loved YOU.”

“I never thought I’d be a dad again. I had no plans to be one, that’s for sure. I’d already done that once, and it didn’t end well. And then Esme came along and everything changed. I changed. She made me want to be a different person. A BETTER person. She wasn’t like anyone else. I knew that right away.”

“I think she knew that same thing about you.”

“Once she stuck around after Dhaka, I knew that was it. That SHE was it. I don’t regret it, Nik. The way things happened. I know it was the wrong place and totally the wrong time, but I wouldn’t change it. I wouldn’t change a fucking second. I would take that bullet to my throat a hundred times if it meant I’d be with her.”

She blinks at his honesty.

“When we decided to get the house and started talking about getting married and having a family, I was terrified. Of being a husband and a dad again. I didn’t want to fuck it up. I’d already screwed over one wife; Mia deserved a lot better than I ever gave her. That’s when I told myself it would be different. That I’D be different. I’d be the man that Esme needed and wanted. That she deserved. I’d be a good dad. The one I never had. I would do everything right; I’d be there for my wife, and I’d put my family first, and I wouldn’t be a total fucking failure.”

“You were never a failure, Tyler. You…”

“I used to think about it. Esme being pregnant. Seeing her get bigger and bigger. Feeling the baby move. Making a nursery. Going to all the appointments. I was looking forward to it; going through all of that with her. I’d missed it all the first time, I wasn’t going to miss it again.”

“I know what you’re going to say. I know…”

“That was all taken from me. I never got the chance. I was ready and I was willing, and I was able, and it never happened. Sure, she got pregnant, and the baby came along. But I just didn’t get to know about it. I didn’t get to be part of it, did I.”

“Tyler…”

“I don’t hate you, Nik. Let’s get that out of the way. We’ve been through way too much together. Not to mention everything you did for me after Dhaka and everything you did for Esme and Millie. That you continue to do for them. I could never thank you enough; for keeping Esme safe and for making sure that she didn’t go through everything alone and that she and Millie were taken care of.”

“I don’t need your thanks. They’re my family. So are you.”

“Like I said, I don’t hate you. I might not like you very much right now…”

“And I deserve that. I know I do. But I don’t regret the choices I made. I don’t regret helping Esme or keeping her secrets. And I would do it all again. No questions asked. And I’m sorry if it hurts you to hear that. It was never personal, Tyler. I never did any of that to intentionally hurt you. And I DID try and convince her to contact you. Many times.”

“I really hope that’s true, Nik. That I don’t find out something completely different. Because that whole not hating you thing? That could change. I can’t make any promises.”

******

Nik settles on the lounge chair beside him, stretching out of her legs and setting her clasped hands on her stomach.

“It was a beautiful day.”

Tyler arches a quizzical brow.

“When Millie was born. It was sunny and cool, and the leaves were just starting to change.”

“Seems kinda fitting. That she came along when she did. It was always her mum’s favourite season; Esme used to go on and on about fall in New York City. About how she’d always take walks in Central Park; she loved seeing all the different colours and hearing the leaves crunching under her feet and how the air actually seemed fresh for a change. She made it sound incredible. Beautiful.”

“She has a knack of seeing things differently than we do. She holds onto so much trust and wonder; she sees the beauty in everything. And everyone. She could watch the same sunset a million times and find a million different things to marvel at. I used to tease her about it; almost scold her for being that way. For always seeing the cup as ‘half full’. But now that I think about it, wouldn’t it be better if we all saw it that way?”

“She’s just different, Nik. From what we’re used to. We’ve all been through hell and back. In one way or another. And somehow she’s still like that. I used to give her shit for it, too. Always said she was setting herself up for disappointment if she kept seeing the world like she did. Seeing the good in everyone no matter how shitty they treated her. Even told her how stupid it all seemed; that she was being naive and childish and she was just going to get hurt.”

“If anything…anyone…is a breath of fresh air…”

“I realize now that if she didn’t see things the way she did? Millie wouldn’t even exist. Esme wouldn’t have stayed on that bridge. Dhaka wouldn’t have happened the way it did. The things that went down between the two of us. She wouldn’t even have given me a second look. She would have just seen me as a huge mess. A liability. And moved on with her life.”

“I know you talk about how she came along when you needed it the most, but have you ever thought that maybe you did too? That you came along when she needed you to? Because despite all that light and that brightness and that love for the world and everyone in it, there was a very broken and lonely woman…little girl, even…under all of it. I would see it sometimes; this sadness that would just take over. When she’d just seem so lost and vulnerable and hurting. That changed. When she met you. I saw it in that hospital. All that time she was holding on and fighting for you, she was holding on and fighting for herself too. She wanted to be what YOU needed. And what you deserved.”

“She is way more than I have ever deserved.”

”But she doesn’t see it that way. She doesn’t see YOU that way. You came along, and you pulled her out of a really dark, horrible place. And I know it’s hard to see that when you’re in a pretty bad place yourself, but it’s true. The two of you found each other when you both needed it the most. She didn’t just save YOU, Tyler. You saved her too. In more ways than one.”

Swallowing around the lump of emotion sitting square in his throat, his fingers moving through Millie’s damp hair as he nods slowly, considering Nik’s words.

“I know you probably have a lot of questions. About the last five years. About Millie. Maybe even about before she was born. If there’s anything you want to ask or know about it or I can help you understand better…”

“How was it? The pregnancy? Was it really hard on her? Were there any complications? I mean, I assume everything went okay, or we wouldn’t be having this conversation right now, but…”

“It was pretty uneventful. There were no scares. No real health issues. Yaz and I got a place in the city. We wanted to be close by; to keep an eye on her, make sure she was taking care of herself and that she got everything she…and the baby…needed. She was never alone, Tyler. Not physically, anyway. We were there when she needed us. Maybe too much at times. I’m sure we annoyed her a lot. I know I can be pretty assertive and overwhelming at times. And Yaz…”

“He’s always had a hard-on for her. I don’t think her being pregnant changed that. Knowing that little freak, it probably made it even better in his mind.”

Nik laughs. “Yeah, maybe. But it’s been harmless. He’s always known he doesn’t stand a chance.”

“I mean, she has bad taste in men, but it’s not THAT bad.”

“He was so into things. He loved the idea of being an uncle. He was constantly buying Miillie things; always showing up with toys and outfits and things Esme could put away until she was older. And when we found out it was a girl? He got even worse. That kid was going to be the biggest, most spoiled princess on earth.”

“Esme knew? That it was going to be a girl?”

“She didn’t want to know at first. She was pretty adamant about waiting. Letting it be a surprise. But she ended up caving. At the very last ultrasound. And low and behold, baby Rake was a little girl. We always called Millie that. By your last name. It might not be that on paper, but we talked openly about it. You were always on her mind, Tyler. There wasn’t a day that went by where she didn’t think about you. TALK about you. You may not have been there, but to Esme, that baby was just as much yours as it was hers.”

“I would have been there. If she’d called me out of nowhere and told me about the baby, I would have gotten on the first flight out of Australia. Nothing…no one…could have stopped me from being there. Not you, not Winston, not The High Table. No one.”

“And she knew that. Which is why she was determined NOT to tell you. I’m not saying she made the right decision. Or that I agree with how she handled things. But it was not my place to tell you. Especially about Millie. I couldn’t betray her, Tyler. Not even for you.”

“As hurt as I am, as PISSED as I am, I’m just glad she wasn’t alone. That people were there for her. I fucking hate I didn’t get the chance, but it’s never really about me, has it? It’s about her and Millie. Especially Millie. Always has been. And that’s the way it should be.”

“Esme was having that baby no matter what. Not once did she ever think about not having her. Let alone talk about it. She knew it wasn’t going to be easy and she was lonely and sad and missed you every second of every day. Millie was part of you. Her only connection to you. And there was no way she was giving that up.”

“She’s always wanted to be a mum. She talked about it a lot. When we lived in The Kimberley. About coming close with Mark and having that taken away from her. I don’t think she ever got over that. And I knew one day it would happen; she and I would get our shit together, and we’d start a family. I didn’t think it would happen this way, mind you.”

“She never stopped thinking about you, Tyler. Loving you. She talked about you all the time. About wishing you could be there. So, please…PLEASE…don’t ever think she didn’t want you in her life. Or Millie’s life. Because nothing could be further from the truth. That baby was all she had. Aside from Yaz and I, Millie was her only connection to you. And no one could take that away from her. She wouldn’t let them.”

“Did she ever talk about me to Millie?”

“Maybe not by name. But even she was just a tiny baby. Millie heard stories about you. And all good, believe me. Esme has NEVER said a bad word about you to that little girl. And she always promised that she’d take Millie to meet you; that one day they’d go to Australia and track you down and let you meet each other.”

“Esme had chances. She’s had four years, Nik. She…”

“She had to be ready. She had to get over all that fear and worry she had. I couldn’t force her to just stop being that way. We’ve already established how stubborn she is. But I’d be honest with her; I’d tell her that she needed to contact you and you had the right to know you were a dad. That you deserved to be part of Millie’s life. But other than that, there wasn’t much I could do.”

“What about when Millie was old enough to start asking questions? What did she tell her then?”

“She would tell Millie that her dad was a good person. A big man with an even bigger heart. That he lived far away and one day, they’d go and visit him. And that she loved him very much. She always would.”

His voice quivers with emotion. “I don’t even know what to say. What IS there to say?”

“I know it hurts, Tyler. What Esme did. Having your child kept from you. I can’t even begin to imagine what you’re feeling. But you need to know that it wasn’t done maliciously. It started with her wanting to protect you, then ended up being about wanting to protect herself.”

“From me? She didn’t need to protect herself from me. I’ve never been a threat to you. I have never hurt her. I’ve never raised my voice, let alone a hand to her. I never would. I’d kill myself if I ever got that way. If I ever laid even a finger on her in THAT way…”

“She was protecting her heart. She was scared, Tyler. That you’d turn her away. That you’d turn MILLIE away.”

“That would never…EVER…happen. No matter how pissed or hurt I was.”

“Rationally, she knew that. But fear…and love for that matter…don’t always have us thinking…or acting…rationally.”

Sighing, he glances down at Millie; running a fingertip down the bridge of her nose and then pressing a kiss to the tip.

“Would you like more?” Nik asks. “Kids?”

“I’d love more. I’d love to go through it all with her. I WANT that, That experience. With HER.”

“But…”

“But it’s kinda selfish, isn’t it? Wanting it for ME. She has to want it too.”

“I don’t think you need to worry about that. Something tells me she’s on the same page. She loves being a mom. And she’s good at it. Damn good.”

“She’s an amazing mum. I couldn’t have asked for a better mother for my kid.”

“You’re going to get your ‘normal’. Your ‘happily ever after’. It won’t be much longer now.”

He nods in agreement. “Thank you, Nik. For telling me all of this. I needed to hear it. Esme can say it all until she’s blue in the face, but hearing it from someone else?”

“It’s a different viewpoint. Coming from an outsider looking in. I just didn’t want you to think she never wanted you in her life, In Millie’s life. Because she did. She missed you, Tyler. Every second of every day. And believe me, I know she wishes she could change things. Go back in time and make different decisions.”

“I told her I wouldn’t want that. When you change one thing, you change everything. I believe that. And even if it were possible, I wouldn’t risk it. I wouldn’t risk a damn thing.”

Smiling, she reaches out and lays a hand on his shoulder, lightly squeezing. “It was never about her not loving you, Tyler. It was always about how much she DID.”

#Tyler and Esme series #Tyler Rake #Tyler Rake fanfiction #Tyler Rake fan fic #Extraction #Extraction 2 #Extraction fanfic #Extraction fan fiction #Tyler Rake x OFC #Chris Hemsworth #Esme Drummond #Esme Rake #Rake Lives

[arrthurpendragon]

Hi!

I'm Sammie, and I write for the OC community. I originally started writing fan fiction MANY years ago over on another site. It was for the CSI:NY fandom and I absolutely loved it. Currently, I write for the Extraction/Tyler Rake fandom and have a series I've been working on for two and a half years now. I also have fairly rough drafts (handwritten in notebooks) for a Thor/OC fic and a Spiderhead/Steve Abnesti/OC fic.

#oc creator spotlight #fd: extraction #fd: marvel #fd: spiderhead #ocapp #oc community #oc fanfiction #oc fanfic #oc fic #oc fanfiction blogs #oc writers #chickensarentcheap tag

[darklydeliciousdesires]

🎢 Which of your fics would you call your wildest ride?

🤩 Who is your favorite character to write?

🤗 What advice would you give to new fanfic writers that are just getting started?

The wildest ride in recent years was Borne of Bullets and Bloodshed, my Tyler Rake/OC fic. That one took it out of me, detailing two addicts hellbent on destruction, and showing how they went from such messed up headcases to two people who were resolute that they could become more, become the people they were before life broke them when they were forced to change their ways. I had to include many layers of their personalities and how they all unpeeled during the journey they took together, and it was tough!

Favorite right now. MY MAYANS MEN! Loving writing them so much :D

Advice would be to always be willing to learn. If you write OC's, don't fall into the trap of writing yourself into the character either, because I did that, and I see others doing that, and while it is easy to do so, to write what you know, you need your character to be the extension of the story, and not an extension of yourself. It will open you up to greater risk taking, to different perspectives and challenges, to write from a different viewpoint than your own. Also, write about subjects that are out of your comfort zone, about things you don't know and aren't familiar with. Go on a little learning expedition before you begin, because you'll excite yourself as well as your reader with offering something a little different to the norm up to the plate, as it were, so explore those tropes!

Also, read, read, read and re-read what you write. Even people like me with years of experience still proof read to death (and then embarrassingly realise I've made a stupid spelling mistake that I didn't spot during the three proof reads I ran through, but this I put down to a mild case of dyslexia) prior to sharing. Make sure your work is polished, as this is enticing to your reader.

Ask for help, too! If you feel you're stuck with something, ask an author who you enjoy the works of to give you some advice. We all had to begin somewhere :)

Realise that you always will have room to improve. I feel like I'm improving all of the time, and I've been doing this for 20 years. I'm always learning, always growing. I'm far from perfect or the best at what I do. I'm just a woman who loves to tell a story, and hopes she does a fairly decent job of doing just that, but is always willing to see where she could make something better and challenge herself with every story that passes to make that happen!

Lastly, and perhaps the most importantly, never let negativity drag you down. Constructive criticism is one thing, but there are sadly some pockets of a few fandoms that have members within who are nothing more than little balls of toxicity. For example, telling you what you can and can't write, gatekeeping tropes and characters, shouting that you aren't allowed to put your own spin on a character and if you do, you're not being true to them. I mean yes, writing someone completely different to how they are on screen/in printed word is one thing, and those people doing such should probably not be writing fan fiction, but using your own interpretations based on what you see in said character, that's fine. That's using your imagination! I've faced such backlash in the past, luckily only very mildly and not enough to dent me as an author, but sadly I've witnessed others truly being raked over hot coals for it, and it's done what those doing the raking want; pushed people out of fandoms. This behaviour says more about the person doing it than it does you!

Okay, actually lastly... ENJOY IT! If you love what you do, it shows through your work! :)

[wartorne]

iv. i just bought o.liver wood’s wand on etsy somebody take my card away from me

#the... money i’ve dropped... on hp merch . #since tik tok reignited my love.... #i cannot be trusted . #not to mention me starting a oliver fan fic FUCK . #iv . tyler rake defense squad ‚ ooc .

[thiamfresh]

hi sweetheart, h r u? i don’t have many questions but i want to tell u smth. first of all sorry for my bad english it’s not my native language. secondly, i want to tell THANK YOU. tw is my fav show and i literally l o v e it. the next part is that i can’t explain WHAT does airplanes means to me. you know, i read it for several times every year since i was 14 and now i’m 18. i forced my online-friend to read it and she also like it. because she loves me, when we will meet, we are going to get tattoos with a paper airplane. because u don’t know how much does this mean to me, really. your fic really make me happy and help me. thank god for you. i was trying to find you in all social networks to tell you that. so, several questions.

1. do you think that one time you could write some new chapters with our boys? i miss them so badly

2. what do you think about lydia? few thinkings

Hey :)

So first, you never have to apologise for me for any mistakes you might make in your messages (this goes out to everyone).

Secondly AHHHHHH I'm so glad you like my fic but wow is it weird knowing that you've like..grown up with my fic 😄 I feel so old.

You're getting the tattoo? 😍😭 I'm never gonna be able to properly put into words how much it means to me whenever someone tells me that my fic helped them. I'm so glad that you and your friend like airplanes and your message has made my week. Thank you 🥰

Now onto your questions. I feel like maybe some got cut off so please send the rest if they did (I only got 2)

1. Im still (very slowly) working on the airplanes sequel. I've gotten myself stuck on the next chapter and although it's raking forever I do plan to finish these boys story eventually.

I really love how airplanes finishes and feel like it works well as an ending. But..honestly. I have their next like...6 years planned out and I plan to write at least the next two years as full fledged fics. After that I might just drop some oneshots here and there of the remaining 4 years but yeah. I'm fully invested in telling the rest of their story for those who aren't bored of my writing and their lives.

2. I love Lydia. She's been one of my favourite characters since I started watching and I even have a signed photo of Holland Roden in one of my draws from comic con just before season 3. (I also have one of Tyler H and let me tell you that man is just as gorgeous in person. It's been like 10 years and i still occasionally sob because I touched him.) But yes, Lydia, Queen. Pretty much every line of hers in season 1 has me screaming. I'm not a fan of stydia tho (was in the early seasons but by the time they actually got together it was a major nope from me)

Please enjoy these photos of me looking like trash next to two of the most beautiful people I've ever met

[mind-reader1]

The Twins of La Huerta (Ch.3)

A/N: This is a collaborative fic from myself, @bbaba-yagaa, @brightpinkpeppercorn and @roonarific. It is DIFFERENT than the one posted by @sceptilemasterr over the past few months. That being said, this story doesn’t strictly follow canon, it’s got crack-fic moments, serious moments, NSFW moments. A bit of everything and so we really hope you enjoy! Not for the faint of heart. (This is the last time this warning will be posted.) It’s also come to my attention some tags aren’t working, please let me know if that’s the case! 

Warnings: None

Word Count: 1,920

Catch up with Chapters 1 and 2 here!

Last Time: The group decides to celebrate having the hotel to themselves with a pool party. Estela and Tyler had a little heart to heart under the stars, and Taylor saw something strange in the jungle that Jake tried to help her forget. 

Chapter 3: Trails and Tails

She woke up the next morning, Jake was gone. Slipping into some clothes she found the group downstairs, chaos reigning. Raj had made everyone his famous 'hangover cure’ breakfast, no one had time to eat it though because Lila came in with big news, she had figured out what happened to the guests. They were at some emergency shelter, only no one knew where exactly that shelter was.

“I'm in.” Jake said, everyone looking at him confused.

“You said you were going to look for the shelter. I was supposed to be on a beach in Mexico by now, everyday I spend here is money lost.”

“Me too! I'd love to see the island.” Quinn giggled turning to Tyler who was looking for Estela. This kind of thing seemed right up her alley.

“Are you going to come Tyler?” She rested her hand gently on his arm, but he ignored her.

“Whaddya say Princess? Are you coming?” She could feel everyone's eyes on her, she couldn't stop thinking about the tiger, the way it stalked her in the bushes. Her hands were getting sweaty, Tyler watched her closely, worried about her.

“I...uh.” Jake grinned.

“It's okay if you're too scared. You can stay here with the rest of the goof troop.”

“We should stay Tay.” Tyler leaned over to whisper. She scowled at both of them, she wasn't some scared little kid.

“Wait! I'm coming.”

“Why?” Diego asked.

“Aren't you at least a little curious as to why no one came back from the shelter yet?”

“Yeah, but that doesn't mean we need to go looking. It's horror movie 101, but I'll go just so I can say I told you so when something attacks us.”

“I’m going too then.” Tyler jumped up as the rest of the group was getting ready to leave.

“I think we've got enough Boy Scout.” Jake grinned.

“Tyler can protect me!” Quinn giggled grabbing his arm.

“Who are we to stand in the way of love Jake?” Taylor teased her brother. Strolling through the forest, Quinn began to admire the brightly colored flowers, they seemed to be glowing unnaturally. She leaned in to smell them while Jake took a step back, something about overhearing stories in the right dive bars and not trusting anyone after running secret government missions. Taylor took a step back from the flowers wary, Jake pulled her closer to him.

“Good call Princess.” His arm snaked around her waist as they walked together. Tyler's hands balled into fists as they walked, catching glances of Jake's hand sliding a little lower, as Diego grilled him about Estela.

“Oh no! This doesn't make any sense.” Lila frowned looking around.

“What doesn't make sense?” Taylor asked.

“The shelter should be right here according to the signs!” Aleister rolled his eyes annoyed.

“Great. The tour guide is lost. What do they even pay you for anyways?”

“Tactical scouting 101 kids. Get to high ground. See that rocky cliff over there? I'm checking it out.”

“Ooh that sounds like a waterfall nearby. I'll bet the shelter is near it.” Quinn piped up.

“I really think we should stick to the trail, the shelter should be just up ahead.” Everyone was bickering about why their idea was better and it was getting old.

“Why don't we split up!” Taylor suggested.

“I'm staying here on the trail.” Diego said, Aleister plopped down indicating that he wasn't going anywhere.

“Want to keep me company Princess?” Jake winked. Tyler jumped up to interject but didn't have time.

“That'd be fun.” They ran off and Tyler tried to chase after them, but Quinn stepped in his path smiling at him.

“Want to come with me? Keep me safe?” Quinn giggled. Tyler rolled his eyes and let her drag him off.

****

Jake deftly leaped and ducked as they combed through the forest to the mountain.

“You do this alot? Hiking through the forest that is. You seem pretty confident in the outdoors.” Jake turned to look back at Taylor and smiled, make sure she was keeping up.

“I grew up in a Louisiana town that was so rural it wasn't even on the map. When it comes down to it, the swamp and the jungle ain't so different.

“Probably less gators though.”

“Less gators, more jaguars, I'd call it even. How about you Princess? This your kinda scene?”

“I love the outdoors. Blue skies, fresh air, a soft sea breeze...it's perfect. I mean I should be more freaked out by...whatever that thing was I saw last night, but being out here? I can't help but feel happy,” she saw Jake watching her intently as she spoke a twinkle in his eye, “the company doesn't hurt either.” She winked but Jake had turned away and didn't seem to hear her.

“That why you come with? Wanted a nature hike?”

“It’s not a nature hike unless we're au natural. I came for the company.” Taylor tried again and this time he heard her.

“Oh!” She could tell she caught him off guard.

“You're not like the others here Jake. You're confident and capable, and you seem like you know what you're doing. I don't know what it is, but...I want to be near you. I feel safe with you, is that weird?”

“Naw, not weird. Just classic Princess.”

“Are you ever gonna use my real name?” She playfully crossed her arms.

“Only when you've earned it.” He winked.

“And how do I do that Top Gun?” They emerged at the base of the cliff they needed to climb.

“Well how's your rock climbing?”

“Let's find out.” She sauntered off in front of him, shaking her hips, knowing that Jake was watching her. They began climbing the cliff using small handholds to pull themselves up. Breathing hard, Jake crested the cliff first, Taylor just about to follow when the rock she had hold of crumbled beneath her grip.

“Ahh!” She grabbed the edge of the cliff, before Jake could even react she was pulling herself up.

“Nice moves Princess.” Jake walked over and looked out over the forest, it was an incredible view. The forest went on for miles in different shades of green, blue water just barely visible on the horizon. She sidled up beside him, but he wasn't paying any attention to her, so she decided to have some fun. She peeled her shirt off.

“It's soooo hot.” She fanned herself and Jake turned around, his eyes widening as they raked over her body with desire.

“This place never stops taking my breath away.”

“It's one hell of a sight.” Jake grinned and forced himself to look away.

“Hey Top Gun, that look like a shelter to you?” She pointed out to a small grey building by the river.

“Hot damn Taylor, nice eye.”

“So, I earned it?” She grinned.

“Don't get ahead of yourself Princess. Maybe before I leave we can go on another climb.” There was a genuineness to his voice that made Taylor smile.

“I'd like that.”

“Let's get back to the others.”

****

Tyler and Quinn walked in silence until she turned to him.

“Thanks for coming with me.” She grabbed his arm and smiled at him.

“I just wanted some space from Jake…” she trailed off, tears welling in her eyes.

“Not your favorite person?”

“No. He made me feel dumb earlier… calling me Pippi Longstocking and throwing pumpkin spice lattes in my face. He has me pinned as a spoiled, sheltered college student which isn't true at all. I just wanted to enjoy the flowers! This is my first time ever enjoying the outdoors, I didn't have a normal childhood.” Tyler did feel bad for Quinn, Jake's comment had been harsh and demeaning, he didn't know what his sister saw in that low life.

“Yeah, that was pretty messed up. I'm sorry he said that to you, I don't think you're dumb.”

“Thanks,” she giggled, “is this your kind of vacation?” Tyler nodded.

“I really enjoy the outdoors, everything about it. It's just... peaceful.”

“Maybe Jake just doesn't understand that. He seems like he's seen some scary stuff.” They heard the sound of rushing water getting closer.

“I just think he's a dick. Don't worry about what he thinks Quinn.” She smiled just as they emerged through the trees and into a beautiful lagoon with a waterfall. Quinn quickly peeled off her clothes, wading into the water. Tyler hung back on the beach, a pang in his chest, he wished that he was here with Estela. They could be bitching about Jake, maybe swimming together, he could finally disarm her of the stupid pencil. He snickered to himself and hung his head between his knees as he sat in the sand. He was pining for a girl who threatened to kill him with a dull pencil, not once but twice, and told him to stay away. There was just something about her that drew him in, like a moth to the flame.

“Tyler come swimming!” He sighed and peeled his shirt off headed towards the water when a glint caught his eye. He bent down to pick it up and it was a pirate doubloon.

“What'd you find?” Quinn wadded out of the water, resigning herself to the fact that she wasn't going to convince him to go swimming. He showed her the piece of pirate gold and her eyes widened in surprise.

“Do you think it's real?” Tyler shrugged.

“We've seen lots of crazy stuff on this island. Wouldn't surprise me much.” he snatched it back and stuck it in his pocket, Quinn frowned.

“I guess we should go back then.” Tyler nodded and started the trek back.

****

Jake and Taylor had found the shelter, it was a short walk from the where everyone had split up, off the path.

“Why are we celebrating? Is this place not giving anyone else 28 Days Later vibes?”

“Shelters are made to keep you safe, not look pretty. C'mon.” Jake led the way into the dilapidated shelter only to find it was empty and worn down on the inside as well.

“Maybe pop culture Petey was right. This place is giving me the creeps.”

“I don't like this Tay.” Tyler appeared at her side.

“Anyone else want to go back to the jungle with pretty flowers? Anybody?” Quinn's voice was shaky.

“Lots of muddy shoe prints. They seem recent, someone was here.” Jake knelt down. Tyler uneasy feeling began to grow.

“Tay. We should get out of here.” He grabbed her arm.

“I'm not leaving our friends Tyler!” everyone jumped as they heard a skittering noise, like rats, but it was something much larger. They followed the source of the noise to a large black hole where the concrete wall had collapsed, the flowers from outside growing out of it.

“I think it came from in there.” Diego pointed. Tyler took a deep breath and stepped up to look.

“Something's definitely alive in there.” before anyone could process, a small figure came bounding out of the darkness. It was a small, blue, fox looking creature, ice clinging to the wall behind it. It seemed afraid, no one knew why until they heard the low, deep growl behind them. Turning they came face to face with the creature Taylor had seen the night before.

“Jake! What do we do?” Taylor looked at him and it was the first time she had ever seen him look scared, he grabbed her hand, she grabbed Tyler's with her other one. 

Perma-Tag:  @brightpinkpeppercorn @sleepwalkingelite @ooo-barff-ooo @endlessly-searching-for-you @agent-bossypants @roonarific @likethetailofacomet @zaffrenotes @mysteli @vickypoochoices @kayann93 @jlouise88 @zigortega4life @findingdrake @bbaba-yagaa

Jake Tag:  @endlesstaylormckenzie @sophie-summer  @darley1101 @emomoustache​ @xo-endlessmayhem-xo​

Twin Tag:  @sceptilemasterr @queerchoicesblog

#Jake McKenzie #estela montoya #endless summer #choices stories you play #jake x mc #jake mckenzie x mc #estela x mc #estela montoya x mc #choices endless summer #twinfic #the twins of la huerta

[ohfrickfanfic]

Spooky Jim (Halloween Special)

I got an anon ask to include the pet name Kitten in a fic and it just worked so perfect for this. Hope you like it!

Pairings: Josh x Reader

Warnings/tags: Public sex, Kitten pet name, light daddy kink

The door bells rings just as you finish sliding up your sheer black, thigh-high stockings, pinching the ruffles at the top and perfectly fanning them out just below the hem of your black mini skirt. You adjust your tail one more time, checking it in the mirror and then grab your cat ears, adorning your head with them just as the doorbell rings again.

“I’m coming!!!” you shout, grabbing your purse on the way to the door to greet Josh, Tyler, and Jenna. The four of you are going on a double date to a haunted corn maze. You quickly slip on your black platform heels and fuss with your hair for a brief second in the mirror near the door before opening it.

“Meooow-CH!” Tyler catcalls, interrupted by an elbow to the ribs from his wife.

“Jeez, she looks good, sorry,” he apologizes, motioning to you with one hand as he rubs his side with the other. “Don’t worry baby, you look good too, my sexy little donut,” he smirks, trailing his fingertips along the exposed flesh of Jenna’s stomach through the donut hole opening of her costume, and pulling her in for a kiss.

“Mmmmm, baby. Damn! Ty’s right, you do look good,” Josh says, raking his teeth over his bottom lip and reaching out a hand to offer you help down the few steps of your front porch. “You gonna be able to walk in those things?” he questions.

“Don’t worry, I’m an expert,” you laugh as you make your way down the stairs. “I’m more concerned with you and Tyler’s lack of costumes.”

“I’m dressed,” Tyler says, dramatically motioning to the white printed letters on his shirt that read ‘This is my costume’, causing you to let out a chuckle.

“Oh yeah? And what about you?” you ask turning to Josh, who then reaches atop his head of tousled red locks pulling down a generic serial killer looking mask over his face. “What are you even supposed to be?” you sneer.

“I dunno, just call me Spooky Jim, I guess,” he mumbles behind the cheap, foam mask before sliding it back up onto his head.

“You’re such a dork, Joshua William Dun,” you say, shoving him playfully.

“Hey, no one pushes Spooky Jim like that and lives to tell about it,” he teases, running up behind you and throwing you over his shoulder.

“Eeeehhhhhhh!” You let out a high-pitched scream as your hands fly to the back of your skirt, trying to hide the fact that you purposely neglected to put on panties under your costume. “Joshua! Put me down!” you beg while laughing frantically.

“Sorry, I don’t know who this Joshua is?” he teases, spinning you around.

“Seriously, Josh, put me down!” you shriek between bouts of laughter.

“Not until you call me Spooky,” he teases.

“Fine. Spooky, put me down!” you answer quickly, your hands still clasped desperately over your ass.

“Please?” he taunts.

“Please, Spooky, put me down!” you repeat politely this time.

“Much better, Kitten,” Josh says, returning you to your feet.

There are many names Josh often calls you: Princess, Babygirl, Doll, the list goes on and on, but Kitten was never among them. You’re sure it’s just an innocent reference to your costume, but the word travels directly to your core nonetheless, causing you to squeeze your thighs together the entire ride to the cornfield.

“Are you okay?” Josh asks as Tyler pulls into a parking space, taking notice of how quiet, yet fidgety you’ve been on the way there.

“I’m fine Daddy, or shall I say, Spooky?” you whisper in his ear, only loud enough for him to hear, as he assists you out of the car.

“Mmmm,” He groans softly in response, a smirk spreading across his lips as you head to the ticket counter.

“Why’d you girls make us come here?” Tyler whines, gripping onto Jenna as the four of you enter the corn maze; the ambiance  of cackling witches, groaning zombies, chainsaws, and other sinister noises filling the cool autumn air.

“Oh, you’re fine,” Jenna says, stifling a laugh as she strokes Tyler’s brunette locks.

“But you know I hate this st-UFFF!” He screams like a girl, burying his face in Jenna’s chest as a clown pops out of the corn stalks. You jump back, more startled by Tyler’s screams than the clown, your backside pressing against Josh.

“Don’t worry, kitten, Spooky’s got you,” he teases in your ear, wrapping his arms around your waist from behind as you walk, the name once again making you weak and causing you to push back against him harder. You reach behind you, grasping the back of Josh’s neck and tilt your chin up to whisper to him.

“Is that my tail, or are you happy to see me?” you joke, wiggling your ass against the bulge.

“A little of both,” he smirks, his hand leaving your waist to trail up your inner thigh, as you fall behind Tyler and Jenna. His fingers are painfully close to where you both want them when Tyler lets out another scream, causing you to push Josh’s hand away for fear of getting caught. Josh groans in protest.

“Hey, why don’t we split into teams and see which couple can find their way out first?” he proposes, his idea drenched in ulterior motives.

“Whatever gets us out of here faster,” Tyler whines, just as you approach a fork in the path of the cornfield.

“Perfect!” Josh says, motioning to the split path, “We’ll go left, you and Jenna go right.”

“Later, losers!” Jenna teases as she and Tyler turn right, down the path.

Josh pulls you quickly down the path, blowing past all the ghosts, goblins, and ghouls, completely unfazed as he frantically searches for a secluded spot to have his way with you. The over-sized stuffed scarecrow overlooking the field catches his eye and sparks an idea. Stepping into the field and off the carved path, he pulls you behind him as he makes his way towards the large scarecrow, corn husks scrapping against your skin as you go.

“Josh where are…”

“Here!” he answers, cutting you off, motioning to the numerous hay bales propped on either side of the large stake that’s supporting the scarecrow above you. Josh doesn’t waste time, pushing you down on one and quickly pulling his hard, aching cock from his black skinny jeans, and sliding your skirt up higher around your waist.

“Mmmm, no panties? Naughty little kitten.” Josh teases as he nips at your neck.

“That’s why I was yelling at you to put me down, Joshua,” you whine, craning your neck to allow him better access.

“I thought I made it clear that I don’t know who Joshua is tonight,” he breathes against your skin as he teases your entrance with the tip of his length. “Mmmmm, so wet already. I think someone likes the name Kitten, don’t they… Kitten?” he repeats the name again, pulling your bottom lip between his teeth.

“Yes, fuck me, Spooky,” you whine, writhing under him and lifting up your hips from the scratchy bales of hay, desperate to get him inside of you. With a quick roll of his hips he ends his teasing, filling you with his length. Your moans drown out by the various other sounds of the night.

The breezy October air hardens your nipples instantly as Josh pulls your breasts from your low-cut top, running his thumbs over the sensitive buds in a pinching motion as he fucks you. You wrap your legs around him, your heels digging into the flesh of his backside as you pull him in deeper. Claw marks punctuated by crescent-shaped indentations decorate his skin as you grip onto his neck while he repeatedly hits your spot.

“Uhhh, fuck, I love when my little Kitten scratches me all up, marking her territory like that,” Josh mumbles against your flesh between making marks of his own. A familiar feeling begins to build in the depths of your abdomen as your moans grow louder.

“You close, Kitten?” Josh asks while he thrusts, pressing his dewy forehead to yours and looking into your eyes.

“Yeah, fuck, I’m gonna c-cum.” Your voice cracks as your orgasm hits. You raise and lower your hips in rhythm with Josh’s thrusts as you ride it out. He quickens his pace, pounding into your sloppy wetness until he achieves his own release moments later, filling you up.

You exchange breaths, your foreheads still pressed together as you both come down from your highs. He pulls out of you and zips himself back into skinny jeans as you slide your skirt back into position before heading back the way you came.

Stepping out of the corn and back onto the path, you begin brushing yourself off and picking stray pieces of hay from your hair when you hear a familiar voice.

“There you two are. We already found our way out,” Jenna says.

“Yeah but Jenna made us come back in to find you guys, but uhhh… now I can see what was taking so long,” Tyler winces, pointing at Josh’s neck. “You should really think about having that cat declawed,” He says in his usual, sassy, Tyler tone.

“I thought I heard moaning coming from the cornfield, but Tyler insisted it was the Zombies coming to eat his brains,” Jenna laughs. “Come on guys, we’ll show you the way out.”

“I’m gonna drop you off at the cat’s house,” Tyler says sarcastically to Josh as you make your way back to the car. “You’re not the only one getting some tonight. I prefer my donuts cream-filled,” he laughs, landing a hearty smack on Jenna’s ass.

#twenty one pilots #twenty one pilots smuts #twenty one pilots fan fiction #josh dun #josh dun smut #josh dun x reader #halloween #halloween fanfiction

[chocolatequeennk]

To Bring Them Home, 4/6

Losing Rose only a month after they bonded hurt more than the Doctor could have imagined. Then he discovered he’d lost more than he’d realised, and he was determined to bring them home–Rose and their unborn baby. But how could he do that, without two universes collapsing?

Ten x Rose, pregnancy fic

In which we discover why this fic is tagged Nine/Rose on the archives...

This story is part of The Course of True Love, following With This Ring.

This was written for the Doomsday month prompts on @legendslikestardust​ and @doctorroseprompts​, and the drabble prompt “undone.” 

Betaed by @lastbluetardis​.

AO3 | FF.NET | TSP | Ch 1 | Ch 2 | Ch 3

The Doctor’s hearts raced with desperate hope as he strode through the TARDIS to the library. “The answer has to be here somewhere,” he muttered to himself as he sat down at his desk, piled high with books on trans-dimensional travel. He’d read them all in the months since losing Rose, but hopefully a second (or thirtieth or fortieth) look would yield better results.

He raked his hand through his hair as he opened the first volume. “Not hopefully,” he corrected. “I will find the answer. Because I’m not leaving Rose to go through an alien pregnancy without knowing what to expect, and I won’t leave my child to grow up without a father.”

The Doctor flipped through the book quickly, his eyes darting back and forth over every page, scouring the text for the single line that would tell him how to bring Rose home. He scowled when he read each warning against attempting trans-dimensional travel alone, and when he got to the end of the book without learning anything new, he tossed it on the floor and picked up the next one.

And that was his life for the next two weeks. Reading, studying, rereading, and cursing the authors who insisted he couldn’t go through the Void on his own. He only left the library to use the toilet, typically stopping by the galley to make a sandwich on his way back.

When his eyes were too tired and gritty to continue reading, he would move the short distance from the desk to the couch and collapse into an exhausted slumber for a few hours. His tie had been discarded on the second day and his oxford was half-untucked from his trousers. A scratchy layer of stubble covered his face, but he refused to break from his pattern of reading, eating, and sleeping. There would be time for rest when Rose came home.

His mood worsened as the pile of rejected books on the floor grew, and when the last book offered no magical solution, he slammed it shut and threw it across the room. It hit the wall next to the fireplace with a satisfying thunk, then fell on the floor.

The Doctor shoved back from his desk and rubbed at his weary eyes. Two weeks of work, dozens of books, and nothing—not even a hint of how he might manage to break the laws of physics and travel through the Void on his own. He didn’t have a way to bring Rose and their baby home.

He sat up straight as a stray thought crept into his mind. Unless…

The Doctor leapt to his feet and paced in front of the fireplace, ignoring the book lying on the floor, pages fanned out. He knew where he could find a gap big enough to take the TARDIS across the Void—or more specifically, he knew when he could find a gap.

All he had to do was pilot his ship back to a time before Canary Wharf, go through the Void, and hop forward to just after Rose fell. Then, once she was on the TARDIS, they could go back far enough to be able to make it safely through the Void again.

He pressed his tongue to the back of his teeth as he considered the plan. Strictly speaking, he would be crossing his own timeline. But as long as he didn’t show up at the Pete’s World Torchwood while his past self was there with Jake and Pete, he reckoned it would be all right. Safe enough, anyway—safer than Rose would be if he left her there alone.

His vision greyed out for a moment when he sensed the impending paradox. If he picked Rose up before she even found out she was pregnant, then she wouldn’t be in Pete’s World for him to talk to, and he wouldn’t realise she was pregnant and decide to find a way to go through and bring them home.

The Doctor grabbed onto the mantel until his vision cleared, then spun away from the fireplace. “I don’t care what the universe says,” he growled as he stalked out of the library. “I’m the Doctor, the last of the Time Lords, and I am not leaving Rose and our baby on their own in a parallel universe. It’s taken me all these years to realise the laws of time are mine, and they will obey me!”

The TARDIS rocked in the temporal turbulence as timelines swirled and broke around her, but the Doctor didn’t sway from his decision. An exhilarating sensation of power and control swept over him as he strode through the corridors. This was what he was always meant to be—the Time Lord Victorious, ruler and arbiter of Time itself.

The Doctor was abruptly aware that the TARDIS had been leading him in circles, instead of letting him get to the console room. “Oh no you don’t,” he growled, slapping his hand on the coral wall. “I’ve served Time my whole life, and now Time can serve me.”

The corridor didn’t shift.

“Let me out of here!” the Doctor roared. He shook his fists at the ceiling. “I’m going to get Rose back, and I don’t care what you think about it.”

The TARDIS remained implacable, but the sympathetic note in her hum created the first fissure in the Doctor’s defiance.

“I have to… I need…” His voice cracked, and he swallowed hard before shouting, “Rose needs me!”

The air in front of him flickered, and then a projection of Rose appeared out of thin air. The Doctor stumbled back, his hearts seizing when he saw her image.

“This is Bad Wolf Programme One,” she said clearly. “The TARDIS and I decided to call them that because I’m leaving these messages to keep you safe, my Doctor.”

When Rose smiled and pushed her hair back over her ear, the Doctor saw her ring sparkling on her finger. A sob caught in his throat when he realised she’d taken time out of their honeymoon to leave these messages for him. Knowing that even in the middle of their happiest time, she’d loved him enough to prepare for his deepest sorrow made him miss her more than he already did.

Rose’s eyes softened and she looked directly at him. “I don’t know what has happened to take me from you. I don’t know how long we had, but if you’re listening to this message, I suspect it isn’t as long as we should have had. I’m sorry, love. I’m so sorry I couldn’t stay with you for my forever, like I promised.”

In the Doctor’s mind, his end of the broken blond clamoured to connect with his mate. He clenched his hands into fists, trying to resist the instinct to dive into Rose’s mind. She wasn’t really there, and the failed attempt would only make the ache worse.

His efforts distracted him from her words, and when he paid attention again, she had a smirk on her face. “And I bet you’re fussing and moaning now—typical.”

The Doctor laughed weakly.

“The TARDIS has activated this message because you’re planning something dangerous in an attempt to get me back. You can’t do it, Doctor.” She shook her head. “I know you miss me, and I know that wherever I am, I miss you, too. But you have to be careful, and you have to be safe.”

Her voice broke, and the Doctor wished he could brush away the tears gathering in her eyes. “I broke the laws of time once to get back someone I love, and my punishment was to see you be taken by Reapers. Don’t make me watch that again, Doctor—please.”

The raw pleading in her voice cut through the Doctor’s madness. Breaking the laws of time as he’d planned would almost certainly have triggered another visit from the Reapers. And this time, there wouldn’t have been a Pete Tyler who could step in and cauterise the wound by dying in his place.

Two lonely tears tracked down Rose’s face, and she wiped them away and cleared her throat. “I want you safe, my Doctor,” she repeated. “Protected even from yourself.”

Even though he hated what she was telling him, the Doctor felt a spark of happiness at her words, too. He’d forgotten how well Rose knew him, and how loved that made him feel.

“I love you, Doctor,” she said, as if she’d managed to read his mind, even from months in the past. “Never forget that.” She smiled sadly at him, then the image flickered and disappeared.

“No,” the Doctor moaned. He stretched his arm out, but Rose wasn’t there—she’d never been there. How many times will I have to watch her vanish in front of me? His throat closed up, and he turned slowly from the spot where he’d seen her hologram and walked away.

The TARDIS buzzed in the back of his head, and he wasn’t surprised when a door appeared—a very familiar door. The Doctor took a deep breath, and for the first time in four months, he entered the bedroom he’d shared with Rose.

Everything was exactly as they had left it. Looking at the bed, covers tidied but still obviously slept in, the Doctor remembered waking up that morning with Rose in his arms. Her happiness as she awakened had blended with his own until the sheer joy of the moment had taken his breath away.

Unshed tears burned in his eyes, but he refused to turn away from the memories. As he undressed, he remembered soft kisses slowly becoming passionate, the way Rose had rolled onto her back and urged him to move on top of her, her cries as they’d made love.

His hands stilled on his zip. Was that when their baby had been conceived? Rose couldn’t have been pregnant for more than a few days before she was taken from him—he would have detected the change in her hormones as soon as the embryo was successfully implanted in her uterus.

He bit his lip and forced the thought aside. All that really mattered was that a child had been created out of their love. A child who was now trapped in a parallel universe with Rose.

The Doctor’s breathing grew ragged as he finally tumbled onto the bed. Rose’s scent surrounded him, and he reached for her pillow, wrapping his arms around it and letting his tears fall. He was tired enough and his mind missed Rose enough that he could almost imagine her hands running through his hair, soothing him as he wept. Imagined or not, the sensation relaxed him, and he soon fell asleep.

oOoOoOoOo

Rose leaned back in her office chair and rubbed at her forehead, in between her eyes. She’d been staring at the report on the dimension hoppers for hours. Torchwood’s habit of appropriating tech they didn’t understand had made the dimension cannon project a nightmare. They had the hoppers, but no one actually knew how they worked—and until they figured that out, they couldn’t build on the design.

She glanced out at London, wincing when she realised it was dark enough that the sun must have set hours ago. Oh, Mum won’t be happy. Jackie had been complaining about the long hours Rose was working, claiming it wasn’t good for the baby.

As if they could sense the direction her thoughts were going, the baby shifted and kicked slightly. Rose chuckled and rested her hand on her belly. You’re made of stronger stuff than that, aren’t you little one? She rubbed a circle over her stomach, and the baby’s movements slowed. You’ve got stardust in your veins, don’t you? We just need to find your daddy so we can be out there in the stars like we’re supposed to be.

Rose felt something in her temple a moment later. She would have dismissed it, except it didn’t feel like the same twinge of pain that still lingered from the broken bond. This was more like… like the jolt you got from a mild electrical current.

It wasn’t a new sensation, and Rose furrowed her brows as she tried to remember when she’d felt it before. It happened again, just as she landed on the memory, and she gasped in amazement.

The baby was attempting telepathic contact.

Rose closed her eyes and reached out for the fledgling telepathic mind that had connected with her own. Are you there? She held her breath, and a moment later, the baby’s mind hesitantly brushed against her own.

Tears rolled unchecked down Rose’s cheeks as she cradled her child’s mind to her for the first time. The baby couldn’t communicate in words, but Rose could feel a question as the infant mind continued reaching. Her heart ached when she realised what the baby was looking for—or rather, who they were looking for.

Your daddy isn’t here, little one, she explained. But as soon as we can, we’re going to find our way home to him.

Rose remembered a moment standing at the door of the TARDIS with the Doctor as they floated in space. They were on the edge of a nebula, and the light had spun around them.

That’s where we belong, sweetheart, she told her child. And we’ll be back there one day, I promise.

oOoOoOoOo

“But I’ve seen it in comics,” Mickey protested. “People go hopping from one alternative world to another. It’s easy.”

The Doctor rolled his eyes and crossed his arms over his chest. “Not in the real world.”

He sighed and leaned back against one of the TARDIS struts. “It used to be easy,” he admitted. “When the Time Lords kept their eye on everything, you could hop between realities, home in time for tea. Then they died, and took it all with them. The walls of reality closed; the worlds were sealed. Everything became that bit less kind.”

The Doctor burrowed closer to Rose’s pillow as he woke up, silently cursing his subconscious. He really hadn’t needed the reminder that it was his own fault he couldn’t bring Rose home. If he hadn’t killed them all…

He groaned and tossed the covers back, then got out of bed and shuffled into the ensuite. Now that he was rested, he couldn’t stand the dirty, itchy feeling of not having bathed in weeks. He grimaced at his reflection—had he really been planning to go get Rose looking like that?

You were a little mad, he told himself as he climbed into the shower.

The hot water stimulated his brain cells, and his mind went back to the conversation he’d dreamed about. He’d always known, really, that there was no way to safely break through the Void. He’d known a year ago when he told Mickey it was impossible, he’d known months ago when Rose had disappeared with Pete to the parallel universe, and he’d known two weeks ago when he’d realised she was pregnant.

That was it, then, he realised as he scrubbed his body clean. Unless he could find another member of a pan-dimensional species who could hold a wormhole through the Void open on this end while he went through to Rose… but as far as he knew, he was the last pan-dimensional being left in this universe.

There used to be dozens of pan-dimensional species, along with the Time Lords. But they had all been wiped out by the Time War, or they had left the prime universe to take refuge in other parallel universes and had never returned. With the Time Lords gone, that left only him.

The Doctor froze in the middle of shampooing his hair, only moving when suds started dripping into his eyes. He shifted back under the water, and his mind raced as he rinsed the shampoo down the drain.

Only him, but he wasn’t only him, was he?

For the first time in months, real hope burned in his hearts. It was a crazy idea, and would certainly bend the rules regarding crossing your own timeline, but that was a rule he’d broken more than once, and never with any dire consequences.  

It was time to get help from the one person as devoted to Rose Tyler’s health and happiness as he was—himself.

#ficandchips #ten x rose #doctorroseprompts #legendslikestardust #dwfic #cq's fic: to bring them home #series: the course of true love #angst #pregnancy fic #reunion fic #eventually #we finally see hope at the end of this chapter! #doomsday month #fic by Nancy

[chickensarentcheap]

In a Heartbeat- Chapter 6

Fandom: Extraction

PAIRING: TYLER RAKE AND ESME DRUMMOND (ESTABLISHED OFC)

SUMMARY:  Dhaka nearly ended everything before it even began.  In it’s aftermath and with Tyler’s life teetering on the threshold between life and death, Esme is about to realize just how strong she can be.  And that love happens when it happens. There’s no rules. No rhyme or reason. No timeline.  

Warnings: mentions of childhood cancer and death (canon), spousal abuse, miscarriage

Tagging: @tragiclyhip @munstysmind @youflickedtooharddamnit @secretaryunpaid @thebejeweledwatercat @karimac @theesirenteller @kmc1989 @alisbackalleybbq @asirensrage @ninjasawakenedmystar @residentdormouse @themaradwrites @arrthurpendragon @ocappreciation @occommunity

Link to AO3: https://archiveofourown.org/works/48691714/chapters/129945505

My tag list is OPEN. Please just let me know if you want to be added :)

****

He wakes at two a.m.; confused and disoriented. After three-quarters of a year, he’s no longer engulfed by the sights and sounds within his hospital room. While stark white walls have transformed into dark wood panelling, the overwhelming and nauseating combined stenches of antiseptic, sickness and death have been replaced by the fire that keeps their little home warm. Gone is the cramped, single bed with its metal safety bars and pristine, uncomfortably stiff sheets; he’s graduated to a double king covered in layers of colourful quilts and blankets. At last able to share a bed with the woman he loves; finding himself caught up in her familiar smell, the brush of her body against his, and the sighs, murmurs and giggles that she emits in the midst of the deepest of sleeps.

It was during the first hours in Dhaka that he’d discovered an ease and comfort with her that he’d never experienced before. He had smiled and laughed for the first time in what felt like forever; a pure and genuine contentment that he hadn’t experienced since childhood. When his father was away on one of his infamous week-long benders and his mother ‘ruled the roost’. For seven days, there’d been no fear lingering under that roof; he felt safe and secure, and he was able to enjoy the company of his mother without having to worry about his old man ruining every single moment. Forever wanting him to ‘harden up; degrading his only child for showing emotion and both accepting and handing out affection.

With Esme, he’d felt very much like that little boy again. Realizing through every kiss and every brush of her hand and the press of her body against his that he’d been living for years…decades…completely and utterly touched starved. Even with Mia, his wants and needs were kept frustratingly out of reach. Outside of sex, she had zero interest in physical intimacy; she preferred he didn’t enter her ‘personal space’ and let him know from very early on that she disliked even being embraced. Esme however, simply couldn’t get enough of it; she loved everything from the simplest, most innocent of touches to the most invasive and raunchy of sexual encounters. In turn, he had thrived alongside her; enjoying the fact that she needed and wanted him and wasn’t afraid to show it.

In turn, she’d made him realize that he was still very much alive; he could still FEEL. Not just intense desire and animalistic lust, but complete and utter devotion; quickly smitten by her bubbly personality and these enormous dark eyes, the way she chewed on her bottom lip while immersed in deep thought, and how she would give a tiny squeal and a bounce of her heels whenever they received good news or something appealing caught her eye. She was strong in ways that were solely her own; not business savvy or a physical powerhouse like Nic, nor cold and calculated like Mia; years spent working in the law field had made her incredibly jaded and cynical. But a strength that seemed to come straight from her soul; seeing the beauty in the world despite years of torment and punishment that had been dumped in her lap. Everything that had been down to her at the hands of her ex, and she still saw the good in everyone; perhaps naive and childish at times, but both utterly appealing and highly addictive.

She was the first person since his mother that he’d allowed himself to be completely vulnerable with; permitting her past the walls he’d long ago built up to contain the immense heartache, guilt, and regret that he’d burdened himself with. And she hadn’t looked at him like a monster when he told her about his biggest mistake; fleeing when his son was at the tail end of his courageous -and extremely painful- battle with cancer. Admitting that he’d gone to the hospital just hours before being shipped off on his third tour of Afghanistan; brave enough to put his own life on the line but too weak to stay behind and hold his son’s hand until the bitter end. And speaking the truth had been both incredibly painful and cathartic. Revealing that he’d simply stood at the window of his son’s room and watched the six-year-old colour; not having the courage to step through the door and give a ‘face to face’ goodbye and instead simply turning and walking away.

His little boy watching the entire time.

Esme is the only living soul who knows THAT part. He’d never been brave enough to say it out loud; the heights and the depths of his brand of cowardice. While she immediately held him accountable and agreed that, yes, it was a horrible mistake, she also sympathized with him; the loss of a child was extremely difficult and nearly impossible to bear for even the strongest of souls.

And she’d cried along with him; feeling his grief and his sorrow so profoundly. “I’m sorry, Tyler,” she had managed through a flood of tears and sobs that wracked her entire body. “I am so sorry you lost your little boy.”

It would be the first time, and the last, that they’d speak of Austin. She refused to press him for any more information and strayed away from asking anything about his former life. Instead, giving him the space and respect he needed on his journey; acknowledging his boundaries and refusing to trespass against him. She knew that if he needed and WANTED to, he’d approach HER. And in response, she’d be a safe person…a safe PLACE…for him. More than willing to help him carry his baggage; lend an understanding ear, a shoulder to cry on, or someone to merely vent to.

Yet somehow, over the course of five days and while allowing him space, they became messily and irreversibly tangled up in one another. Two broken, world-weary people finding solace in one another; finding comfort, pleasure, and safety in one another’s arms. And laying the foundation for a bond that was far stronger and ran much deeper than anything they’d ever experienced before.

*****

She sleeps soundly beside him. Tightly wrapped in one of the patchwork quilts; only the top of her head and her toes visible. It’ll take some getting used to; all the quirks and habits that make Esme who she is. Her tendency to steal every blanket, the way she quietly hums while working in the kitchen, how the labels on cans of food have to be perfectly lined up in the cupboard, and the towels and face cloths in each bathroom have to be an exact match. And he wonders how much of her idiosyncrasies come from the years spent under Mark’s extremely volatile and controlling behaviour; forced to have even the tiniest of details picture perfect.

The damage runs deep. It’s evidence existing even in the most innocent of moments. When he raises his voice or looks at her a certain way; noticing the way her entire body stiffens, and her lower lip and chin begin to tremble as she struggles to rein in her emotions. How she flinches if he moves too quickly beside her or simply reaches overhead. It’s what he hates the most: seeing the fear and the trepidation that immediately takes over. She had taken countless beatings over the course of three years, resulting in multiple trips to the ER, split lips and broken bones, a busted eardrum -and mild yet permanent hearing loss- and two stays in the Intensive Care Unit. Being treated as a punching bag stays with you; the trauma and lingering anxiety are both deeply rooted. And to have her react that way with him is a kick in the gut; the knowledge that while she claims to feel safe and protected in his presence, the ghost of her ex is always hovering close by, ready to make an appearance.

He’s unsure how long he stays in bed. One forearm slung over his eyes, the other across her pillow; his palm on the top of her head as his fingers continuously skim through her hair and his thumb repeatedly brushes against her brow. Hoping to be lulled back asleep by her soft, warm skin and a combination of noises; Lucy’s sot snoring from her spot at the end of the bed, Esme’s occasional murmuring and giggling, the whistling of the wind and the rattling of the windows. But when rest continues to evade him and discomfort begins to settle in his shoulder, back, and knee, he forces himself to move. Wincing as he sits up and swings his legs over the side of the bed; briefly closing his eyes as fights off the pain and blindly reaches for the cane he’d stashed by the side of the nightstand.

It’s easier now; taking only one try -and tremendous trust in both the assistive device and his good leg- to get himself up onto his feet. His confidence slowly returning as each day…each minute…passes since he came out of his coma; he feels stronger and more optimistic and views each step as a tremendous milestone. Now able to walk small distances without the brace or the fear of the unsupported knee giving away underneath him; taking is slowly and easy as both strength and stamina begin to slowly return. And the pain is tolerable; relying solely on the prescriptions written by the specialists and adhering to the strict schedule they’d constructed and presented him with.

A hell of a feat for a guy who, just ten months ago, was a hard-core alcoholic and addict.

While the cravings remain and come out to play when he’s feeling his lowest and most defeated, he’s managed to keep his demons at bay; managing to find much healthier and productive ways of coping with the amount of guilt, grief, and self-loathing that still weigh him down. Reminding himself at the start of each day that it’s no longer ‘just him’; that there’s someone not only relying on him to stay clean and sober, but who vehemently BELIEVES in him. There’s too much to lose now; a new life that he’s building with a person that doesn’t necessarily need him, but WANTS him. Who admits to being safe and secure in his presence; two things she’d never experienced before and never realized how much she needed to feel them. And it was her that he fought his way back for; hearing her voice and feeling her touch and desperately wanting to see her again. To once more experience those feelings she so easily and effortlessly managed to bring to the surface. Love and lust. Want and need. And so many damn things in between.

Dressing himself is what takes the most effort; having to fight through the pain that inhabits his surgically repaired left shoulder to even slip a shirt over his head and do up his pants. Esme, despite her tiny size, usually helps out; making him sit in a chair so she can properly assist him; patiently tending to things like zippers and buttons while never treating him like he’s a burden. Refusing to let feelings of frustration or helplessness fester inside of him; consistently reminding him -in the tender, loving way of hers- that this was all just a small bump in the road. Pointing out that he’s lucky to even still be alive; lesser men would have perished on that bridge, not fought their way back, especially for a woman they barely knew. She had been the only one who had seen him at his lowest in the hospital; the person that he could be completely vulnerable with and not live to regret it. Such a small and seemingly fragile woman that was tougher than any soldier or mercenary he’d ever known; putting her own ass on the line in order to save his. And then putting her entire life on hold in hopes that she’d be able to create something new with HIM; a man with mountains of baggage and addiction issues and a six-year-long death wish.

Planting his palm on the mattress, he leans over the bed; his eyes briefly closing as his nose nuzzles her temple with the tip of his nose. Breathing in that familiar scent: milk and honey and coconut. A smell that isn’t particularly unique, but represents everything that is good and beautiful that continues to thrive between them. They’re both a mess; they willingly and easily admit to that. But they hold onto the hope that maybe…just maybe…two broken people CAN come together to make a slightly tarnished, dented whole.

Limping out into the dimly lit kitchen, he makes himself a cup of coffee before retreating to the sofa; wasting half an hour alternating between watching the local news channel on mute and browsing the web on his phone. Boredom quickly sets in and he renders him anxious and fidgety; the frustration growing over the reality that none of his usual activities -all centred around keeping his body busy in hopes of distracting his mind- are unavailable to him.

It’s a difficult and bitter pill to swallow; used to leading an active lifestyle, yet now relegated to doing little more than limping around the house and feeling sorry for himself. The latter is what he’s desperate to avoid; warned before his release from the hospital that he was very likely to experience some level of depression. The deep and profound sadness that comes with remembering what your life was like…what YOU were like… before landing in their care, precariously teetering on death’s door. He had wanted to laugh in their faces; he didn’t WANT to remember the man he was prior to the events in Dhaka. That guy had died on the bridge; succumbing to multiple gunshot wounds and severe blood loss. And he no longer wanted to be HIM. Instead, determined to be the kind of man that Esme needed, wanted and deserved. It wasn’t the loss of his previous life that he mourned, it was what he couldn’t yet do with the new one he’d be given.

Unable to get comfortable on the couch, he makes a second cup of coffee and walks down to the lake; a mere fifty yards that may as well be fifty miles. It’s an incredibly slow and tedious journey; the combination of the ache in his knee and across his lower back, his diminished muscle tone and stamina, and the amount -and thickness- of the snow that has fallen over the past several hours. But once down there, it’s a hell of a view; the sky as black as freshly poured ink and embedded with a multitude of stars, the shadow of the mountains looming on the horizon. And the enormous full moon reflected on the body of water that has yet to freeze thoroughly.

It’s peaceful; with no neighbours for miles, and far enough away from the hustle and bustle of Vienna. And what could have easily been an incredibly isolating and lonely place to seek rest and refuge in, feels anything but. Just the mere thought of the comforts of home just yards away: good food, a loyal dog, a warm fire and a comfortable bed.

And the love of his life.

He’s not afraid to admit it. At least not to himself. But a fear lingers just under the surface; the worry that if he speaks the words aloud and puts them out into the universe, something will go disastrously wrong. As if it’s all too good to be true; surviving what would undoubtedly kill many and living to tell about it. Finding someone in the midst of all of the messiness and madness; someone willing to help shoulder and carry his burdens and who accepts every broken piece of him. Guys like him don’t deserve that kind of life; the blood they’ve spilled and the ‘body count’ that they’ve racked up. Most are proud of what they’ve done; the tallies they keep, the stories they share, and the memories of all the gruesome and painful ways they punished people. The thought of that life leaves him feeling hollow. Ashamed. He’s not proud of the things he’s done; the lives he’s taken, the families he’s ruined, and the money he’s taken in the process. But it was all he’d known; a soldier from the time he was eighteen years old. Strength and agility and speed and immense power and skill.

Since the moment he’d been lucid enough to comprehend what had happened and the toll it took on his mind and body, he’d wondered where he’d go from there. If retirement was truly the only option. He didn’t feel defeated; Esme made sure of that as she served as his one-woman cheering section. She kept him going on the days he didn’t think he could; reminding him of how far he’d come, how many people he’d proven wrong, and just how strong and resilient he is.

“You’re stronger than you think you are, Tyler,” she’d informed him, shortly after a more painful and tedious than usual physiotherapy session. “You shouldn’t even be here, but you ARE. Don’t let Dhaka win. Not now. You’ve come too far to give it that satisfaction.”

So he keeps going. For her.

Taking one last swallow of coffee, he carefully gets to his feet; dumping the remains in the lake and then turning towards the house. Facing the lone, now empty chair on the edge of the deck.

He’ll have to change that. Add to it. Get her a chair of own. In her favourite colour, if he can find it.

After all, it’s not just him anymore.

****

“Tyler?”

He gives a small start; her voice quiet and tired as she stands on the threshold between the master bedroom and kitchen. Unsure of just how long he’s been sitting at the table; feeling empty and numb as he stares at the black, blank screen of his laptop. Has it been just minutes? Hours? How much time HAS passed since he returned to the cabin and stumbled upon the box Nik had brought from his old place? The moment he’d stepped inside, he’d come face to face with his past. Sitting right where he’d left it; on the table by the door, surrounded by car and house keys and cell phones and various items to throw into the recycle boxes out on the porch.

He doesn’t even remember picking the box up. Never mind sitting down to rifle through it. Everything is muddled and running together: the sound of his son’s voice and giggle, the sight of unruly, blond hair and enormous hazel eyes and a beautiful smile. Images and memories that have been fading with time; adding more pain on top of the grief, regret, and guilt that he can’t seem to shake.

“Go back to sleep, babe.” He tries to keep his voice even. Emotionless. But his throat burns, and his chest feels tight, and he’s not sure he can be convincing in the slightest. “ It’s late. Or really early. Whatever way you want to look at it.”

“I woke up, and you were gone. It scared me. I got worried.”

“You wouldn’t be you if you didn’t.”

“Are you alright? Did you have a bad dream? Like the ones you had in the hospital?”

“I just woke up and couldn’t fall back asleep. I think it’s just a matter of adjusting; to how damn dark and quiet it is here. It’s like night and day.”

“It is kind of weird,” Esme admits. “I noticed it right away, too. It wasn’t like this. There were always lights on and always some kind of noise. Or people waking you up. What are you doing?”

“Nothing. I was just watching something. On the ‘net.”

“Are you okay? Any pain? Do you need some meds or…?”

“I’m fine,” he assures her, tone more curt than it needs to be. She doesn’t deserve that; her fears and concerns come from a place of genuine love and adoration. And she’d spent the better part of a year by his bedside; not only fighting for the best possible care but refusing to give up long after everyone else had all but ‘pulled the plug’. “But thank you,” he quickly adds, glancing over his shoulder to where she lingers in the bedroom doorway. A tiny figure illuminated only by moonlight and the glow of the bedside lamp; diminutive frame all but swallowed by a pair of blue and red plaid pyjamas. “For worrying about me.”

“It’s what I do best.”

“I can think of a few things you do best. Better than anyone else I’ve ever known.”

She gives a small laugh. “That’s a hell of a compliment coming from a ‘total male slut turned one woman man’. Unless…”

“Don’t even finish that. There’s only you. There’s only EVER going to be you.” It’s the truth; knowing in his heart that this is it. This is the ‘one.’ And it’s going to move fast. Taking on a breath-stealing, almost terrifying pace that is impossible to stop. Not that he wants to.

“Do you need some company? I could make some tea and…”

“Just go back to bed. I’ll be there in a few.”

“Okay,” she relents, and then hesitates. Chewing anxiously on her bottom lip, her hand remaining on the doorframe as she watches him from across the room.

He wants to tell her. He NEEDS to tell her. Fill in those last remaining gaps that separate his former life from his present; unable to fully move on until he closes the final chapter. And it’s something he so desperately desires: the ability to completely concentrate on what he has in front of him. Those things that are real and tangible; the sound of both her voice and laugh, the familiar scent that clings to her body and hair, that special little smile that is reserved solely for him, and the way she cradles his face in her hands and kisses with a softness that takes his breath away. They…SHE…deserves all of him. And he can’t give her that, unless…

“Esme?”

The soft creak of the floorboards again. And out of the corner of his eye, he sees her in the doorway once more.

“Will you do something for me?”

*****

She sits at the kitchen table nursing a mug of tea, the laptop open and waiting on the tabletop. And she gives him a smile when he joins her, unzipping his hoodie and draping it over her shoulders before sitting down next to her. Tightly huddled together; both shoulders and the sides of their legs pressed against each other.

His fingers hesitate over the keyboard. “Before I show you this, a word of warning: my ex is in it.”

“Okay…”

“I just didn’t want you to be surprised by it. Or have it upset you. To see her.”

“Why would it upset me? You had a life before me. Just like I had one before you.”

“If I’m honest, I’m not exactly thrilled at ever seeing what your ex looked like.”

“It’s not like you can compare the two. I know things weren’t perfect; you guys had your problems long before your son ever got sick. But Mark is in a league all of his own. He’s his own brand of evil. No one can even come close, believe me.”

“Maybe it’s better I NEVER see him. Or find out where he lives.”

“If anything…” She sips at her tea. “...it’s better for HIM if you don’t.”

“My son’s in it too. He’s the reason I want you to watch it. Because he was my life, and now you are and…” Tyler swallows around the lump of emotion that sits square in his throat. “...and I need you to see him.”

“Alright.”

“But only if you WANT to. See him. I don’t want you doing it because I’m bullying you into it. I don’t…”

“I’d love to see him. I WANT to see him.”

It’s just as painful -if not more- to watch the second time. The emotions heightened. Flooded by the memories of his son and overwhelmed by the added element; Esme beside him as he shares an enormous part of his life BEFORE her. He’s filled with a level of anxiety that he can’t quite explain; teetering on the threshold of fear as he anticipates her reactions to the things she’s seeing and hearing. The image of him twirling his son high in the air, his ex-wife smiling and talking to the camera as she splashes in the surf, Austin with his shrieks and his giggles, and his shaggy hair and enormous eyes as he races towards the camera.

She’s the first person he’s ever shared his son with; others in his life not caring to get that ‘attached’ to him or his past. And if he’s honest, he can admit that he’s never been with someone he WANTED to share those memories with. Nik viewed him -at times- as nothing more than a nuisance and a way to scratch her own itch, and Yaz and him have never been close enough to consider each other friends. And all the women he’d bedded after his divorce were nothing more than conquests; opportunities to be physically satisfied without the added strings attached.

Although he’s vaguely aware he’s holding his breath the entire time the video plays, he hears every little laugh she gives and sees -out of the corner of his eye- every smile that curves her lips. And when it’s over and he can finally breathe again, the silence in the cabin is deafening; somehow eerily drowning out the howling of the wind and rattling of the windows and the crackling of the fire. He finds himself unable to move or speak for what seems like a lifetime; frozen and rooted in place. Unable to speak or form even a coherent thought until Esme gives a choked sob beside him; her entire body shaking as tears spill down her cheeks.

“Hey…” Laying a hand on the back of her head, Tyler gently pulls her towards him. “...don’t…”

“It’s not my place. To be feeling these things. It’s not my loss or my grief. I didn’t know you then. I didn’t know him. I didn’t…”

“It’s okay…” He presses a kiss to the bridge of her nose, then rests his forehead against hers. “...you don’t have to explain. You don’t…”

“It’s because of how I feel about you. I hate that you went through this. That you lost your son. And I’m so sorry, Tyler. That this happened. That he got sick and he died and…”

“Shhh…” Pushing his fingers through her hair, he gently kneads at her scalp. “...just breathe, Esme. Just breathe…”

“You didn’t deserve that. None of you did. Not you, not Mia, and especially not your son. And if there was any way I could go back and fix things so it never happened…”

“Listen to me,” Pulling away, he takes her face in his hands; voice stern, eyes locked on hers. “Don’t you EVER say that. I don’t want you even THINKING it. Because if you change one thing, you change everything. That means you wouldn’t exist. We wouldn’t exist. And I wouldn’t give this…YOU…up for anything. Or anyone.”

“Really?”

“I know that probably makes me sound like a really shitty person. A really shitty DAD.”

“It makes you sound honest. Even if it were possible, you wouldn’t…?”

“Even if it were. I still wouldn’t change a damn thing. ‘Cause I’m in way too deep. With you. And it’s fucking terrifying.”

“It is. But not in a bad way, you know? Not in a way that makes me want to run away from it. Because I know I’m okay. I know I’m safe. With you. And you’re the first person to ever make me feel that way. And I never realized I NEEDED to feel that.”

“I don’t know what good I’d be right now. Can’t do much when it comes to the whole protecting thing.”

“If you had to, you’d find a way. If there was some kind of threat or I was in any kind of danger, nothing would stop you from keeping me safe.”

“You have a lot of faith in me.”

“Someone has to. And it’s not just a physical thing. Feeling safe with you. I can’t explain it. I just know that I’m okay. That nothing bad is going to happen to me. No one is going to hurt me. I don’t have to worry about having my heart broken. Or my face, for that matter.”

“Not all men hit.”

“I know. And for the longest, I always thought they did. That's all I knew. About love. I thought it was ugly and painful and that I didn’t deserve anything better than that. And then I met you. Now I’m not scared anymore. At least, not of that.”

“What are you scared of?”

“I’m scared you’re going to run. I mean, you just said it was terrifying; all the things you feel for me. What if it becomes too much? What if…?”

“I’m not that guy anymore. I haven’t been him since I met you. Do you think we’d have gotten this far…that we’d be here right now…if I were still him?”

She shakes her head.

“It’s all going to be okay. It’s not a bad scary. Not in the slightest. It’s just…”

“Overwhelming.”

He nods.

“But like in this amazing way. It’s scary, but it’s not a horrible scary. Does that make sense?”

“To me, it does. If you were to tell anyone else that, they’d probably think you’re nuts.”

Giving a small laugh, she uses the sleeves of her pyjamas to wipe away her tears; a smile tugging at the corners of her mouth as she regards the now blank computer screen. “Your son was so beautiful, Tyler. He looked so much like you.”

“Everyone used to say that. He had his mum’s eyes, though.”

“This might be way off base, but why did you only have one? He was six when he died. How come you and Mia didn’t have another baby? I mean, it’s hard to judge off a three-minute video, but you both looked like great parents. Why…?”

“We realized that we were better as friends than as husband and wife. It’s pretty much how we lived. For the last couple of years before he got sick. We weren’t bringing another kid into that. It was hard work; keeping up appearances for him. We didn’t want him to know that we were sticking together for him. Maybe when we got a little older, he could have handled knowing that, but…”

“Why did you get married? If you weren’t that compatible, why…?”

“I thought we were. I thought I loved her. I mean, I did. I DID love her. But not the kind of love that’s enough to have more kids and keep a marriage going. The funny thing is, it took me until I was thirty-five to realize all that.”

“What happened when you were thirty-five?”

He stares at her pointedly.

“I’m kidding.” Pressing a kiss to the bridge of his nose, she turns back to the laptop; chewing on her bottom lip as she drums her fingernails on the lid. “Did you go to the beach a lot? Was that a favourite thing to do?”

“Once we moved to Australia, we went there quite a bit. He loved it. Anything to do with water.”

“You didn’t live there? When you got married?”

“We got married in Brussels. I was stationed there. When we met. And it made sense to extend my posting; her career was there, and I didn’t have any family or anyone else waiting for me back home, so…”

“How long did you stay?”

“Seven years. My boy was three when we moved to Australia.”

“Took you guys long enough to have kids. Why…?”

“She wasn’t sure she wanted any. Mia was always about her work. It always came first. Even after we got married. Even after my boy came along. We were both bad for that; putting other things and other people before each other. That was probably one of the biggest issues. Other than me being a fucking asshole.”

“There’s no way you were THAT bad. You’re not a horrible person, Tyler. You’re a good person who made a bad mistake. So I highly doubt you were some evil being while you were married to her.”

“I wasn’t a good husband. I didn’t know how to be one. I told you about my dad. I didn’t exactly have a role model growing up. When it came to how I should treat a wife.”

“You didn’t…”

“Hit her? No. Fuck, no. I’ve never been THAT messed up. I just wasn’t present. Like I should have been. And maybe part of it was because SHE wasn’t? So I figured, why should I be? I don’t really know. All I DO know is that she deserved better. And that she was worth a lot more than I was ever willing to give her.”

“Where is she now?”

“I have no idea. I haven’t seen her in a long time.”

“Do you ever think about finding her? Contacting her?”

Tyler shakes his head. “That chapter is closed. And trust me, I’m the last person she wants to hear from.”

“Do you miss her?”

“No.”

“Do you still love her?”

“I love YOU.”

“You feel nothing for her?”

“I don’t think I ever really did. Not if I go by what I feel now. For you.”

“Do you ever think about having another kid? About being a dad again?”

“I’ve thought about it a couple of times. In the last few weeks, anyway. Before that? No. I mean, I fucked it up once. Why would I want to fuck it up again?”

“You weren’t a horrible father. You were a really good one who found himself in an awful situation.”

“It was the worst mistake I ever made. Abandoning him.”

“If you could go back…”

“Esme…”

“Just hear me out. IF you could go back and change just that one thing? If you found a way to rewind the clock and stay until the bitter end, do you think things would have been different? For you and Mia?”

“No. Because we ended a long time before his life ever did.”

“And that was a mutual thing or….?”

“We had already talked about it: getting divorced, custody, support. We were ready to start the process. And then he got sick and everything changed. We decided to stay together for him. First, it was until he was finished treatment and he was cancer-free. And then when we realized he wasn’t going to get better, it was until he died.”

“Are you angry? At her? For things not turning out the way you wanted them to? Relationship wise?”

“I have no reason to be angry at her. We both made mistakes.”

“I can’t imagine going through all of that. That’s a parent’s worst nightmare. Their child getting sick and seeing them waste away, and then watching them die. I…” Taking a long, quivering breath, Esme swipes at her tears with the back of her hand. “...I feel sorry for her. That she lost her baby. I know what it was like to lose one in the early stages; before I ever got to know if it was a boy or a girl or even plan a nursery or think about names. I can’t imagine having a child…this little being I carried inside of me for nine months…and losing them.”

“Just because you didn’t go all those months and give birth, doesn’t mean you weren’t a mum.”

“It was so early into things. I didn’t even get out of the second trimester. And it’s not that I did anything wrong…”

“That thought didn’t even cross my mind.”

“...it’s just that the baby was sick. They did some tests after I miscarried, and they admitted they missed a lot of things. During the ultrasounds. The baby had a lot of things wrong with it. That it couldn’t possibly survive even if I DID carry to term. Not compatible with life, they said.”

“I’m sorry. That you went through that. That you didn’t get to see your baby.”

“I would have had it anyway. Or tried to. Had things been different and I’d been able to carry to term. Or close to it. He blamed me, you know. Mark. He said it was my fault. That I was ‘paying for my sins’. That it was because I was a terrible wife and I was being taught my lesson. That I needed to be a better person and listen to what he said and do what I was told…”

“The more you tell me about this guy, the more I WANT to find out where he was. So I CAN kill him. But not before I torture him. Slowly and extremely painfully.”

“I believed it. For the longest time. Even after I’d gotten away from him. It took me longer than it should have to realize he was the problem. Not me. And I’m not perfect. By any stretch of the imagination. But I’m not the things he said he was. I’m not.”

“I know that. You don’t have to convince me.” And if you DO want me to track him down and kill him…”

“I want him to stay in the past. It won’t do any good, Tyler. Letting him in here. To this place. To this life. That we’re making together. He doesn’t deserve to be part of it.”

“But you know you can talk about it, yeah? When you need to? Because keeping that in? That’s not good. Esme. And it won’t lead anywhere good. Believe me, I know.”

“There’s not much more I need to say. I’ve told you everything. Even the ugliest and most brutal of parts. Yet you’re still here.”

“Why wouldn’t I be?”

“A lot wouldn’t stay. Most men would see how big of a mess I am and cut their losses and take off.”

“Well, what can I say? I’m not like most men.”

She manages a laugh. “You can say that again.”

“And you’re not that big of a mess, trust me. You’re talking to a pretty big one.”

“We’re quite the pair, aren’t we? What was it that Nik said? About the blind leading the blind?”

“What the fuck would Nik know? She doesn’t love anything but her work. I don’t think she’s capable of it.”

“She loves you.”

“Don’t start with that. Don’t…”

“I don’t mean in THAT way. She could, for all I know. But it’s not like she’s ever confided in me about it. I just meant that she cares about you. She wants what’s best for you.”

“She wanted to pull the plug.”

“Well, lucky for you, I wouldn’t let her. And she knew better than to fight me about it. She knew it would be a losing battle.”

“You are tough for a little thing.”

“I have five older brothers. Believe me, I HAD to be tough.”

“Yeah, well, even the tough ones need someone else to baby them from time to time.”

“Are you speaking from experience?”

“I only admit to that if it stays between me and you.”

“Another secret I have to keep for you? Jesus! It must be exhausting having to keep up your reputation.”

“It’s a twenty-four-hour job.” Cradling her face in his palms, he uses the pads of his thumbs to clear the last of her tears away. “Do you ever think about it? Trying to have another baby?”

“I’ve only thought about it every day. Since it happened.”

“And is there a reason maybe you can’t? Some kind of health thing that says maybe you shouldn’t or…?”

“It had nothing to do with me. I CAN carry to term. Or so I’ve been told. My body is fine. Everything is in working order. It was one of the first things I asked; if there was a reason I couldn’t be a mom.”

“And you want to be, yeah? A mom?”

“I’ve only wanted to be a mom since I was a little girl. Probably for the lack of a decent mother in my life. Why?”

“Just curious. Something I thought was important to know. I mean, I’ve thought about it. Us. Babies.”

“Really?”

“You haven’t?”

“A couple of times. Here and there. I wouldn’t object to it…” She pushes a hand through his hair; holding the longer top strand off his brow. “...you putting your big-headed, big-footed babies in me.”

“Excuse you?”

“You have a big head. And big feet. REALLY big feet, actually.”

“You’re just abnormally tiny. Maybe our kids would be, too.”

“One can hope. For my poor vagina’s sake. And you have to admit, we’d make really beautiful babies.”

“If they look like their mother, yeah.”

“Do you not look in the mirror? How do you not realize how good-looking you are? I don’t understand it. Why is it that some of the most beautiful people never understand just HOW beautiful they are?”

“I’ve lived with this face for thirty-five…’

She noisily clears her throat.

“Thirty-SIX years. I know what I look like. I know my shortcomings.”

“Baby, there is nothing short about you in the slightest.”

“And you have the nerve to call ME the dirty one?” Pushing wayward strands away from the sides of her face and out of her eyes, he holds her cheeks in his palms and presses a soft, lingering kiss to her lips. “You okay?”

She nods. “Are you?”

“I am now. Thank you.”

“For what?”

“Everything, Just…everything.”

Smiling, she pecks the tip of his nose. “I should be thanking YOU. For sharing your son with me. For letting me see him. It means a lot, you know that. That you trust me with that. With HIM.”

“Like I said, he was my life. And now you are. It was important to me. That you saw him. And found out more about him.”

“I know how hard it is for you, Tyler. Talking about him. Never mind letting me see him. So for you to do that? To WANT that? That’s huge. I’m proud of you.”

“Now you’re going to make ME cry.”

“Well, that’s another thing you’re learning. That it’s alright to do that. It’s okay not to be the big, bad, mercenary man all the time.”

“Says who?”

“Says me.” Wrapping her arms around his torso, she rests her head upon his shoulder, her nose pressed against his neck. The boss.”

“If it helps you sleep better at night….” Repeatedly running his hands along her sides, he places a kiss on her temple. “...you should try getting some more.”

“Only if you do.”

“I’ll be in a few minutes. After I tidy things up out here.”

“Alright,” she reluctantly agrees, and slides off her chair. “Will you check the doors again? And the windows?”

“Babe, we live in the middle of normal. So unless the bears know how to open shit…”

“Please? Just check again? For paranoid little old me?”

“Just for you.”

Tugging affectionately on his ears, she drops a kiss on the top of his head. “Thank you. Don’t be long, okay? I don’t like sleeping alone.”

“Believe me, neither do I.”

He watches as she goes; listening to the patter of her bare feet and her tiny yawns and seeing the way she pauses to stretch while on the threshold between kitchen and master bedroom. It’s the first time he’s ever really ‘noticed’ someone; the things that make them tick, their quirks and eccentricities. All those little things that make them, THEM.

And he loves every single one.

****

It’s daylight when he wakes; sunlight streaming through the curtains, the snowstorm having stopped in the wee hours of the morning. He can’t recall the exact time he returned to bed, but Esme had immediately responded to him slipping under the blankets, squirming her way across the mattress and snuggling in as close and as tight as she possibly could. Her face buried in that favourite spot of hers between the side of his neck and shoulder; arm over his chest and a leg over one of his. And the last thing he recalls before once more succumbing to sleep is wrapping both arms around her; chin resting on the top of her head, his joined hands at the small of her back.

Now he wakes to an empty bed; the pillowcase and sheets on her side wrinkled, yet all the blankets pulled up to his chin and tucked tightly around him. And he immediately regrets tossing off the mound of quilts and comforters; violently shivering as reaches for a discarded pair of sweatpants slung over the bedside chair. It’s easy to slip into them, but getting to his feet is an entirely different story; a throbbing, stabbing pain in his knee on the initial bearing of weight. But it thankfully doesn’t threaten to buckle. That’s a good sign. He’ll take that as a ‘win.’

He finds her in the kitchen. Standing at the table, making him a cup of coffee with the French press, and still clad in her pyjamas, woolly socks, and one of his hoodies. Her hair twisted and piled onto the top of her head; crafted into a makeshift bun held together by two ballpoint pens. And her own laptop now sits open in the middle of the table, accompanied by a pad of paper and a pencil

Sanding behind her, Tyler lays a hand on her stomach and leans down to press a kiss to her cheek. “Mornin’.”

“Morning, sleeping beauty,” she cheerfully greets, and tilts her head back to smile up at him. “Good news! We won’t have to make coffee like we’re in the Stone Age for long! I ordered a coffee maker AND an espresso machine.”

“You’ve been busy.”

“Spending money. Well, YOUR money, technically. Sorry. I’m still having issues getting everything from my US account to the one here. As soon as it happens, I promise I’ll get that money back to you.”

Dropping two spoons of sugar into his coffee, he stirs vigorously. “Why would you need to do that?”

“‘Cause that money is yours and…”

“That money is in an account with BOTH our names on it.”

“But it’s all YOUR cash that’s in there. None of it’s mine and…”

“And what? That’s OUR money. Not just mine.”

“It’s the payment you got from Mahajan. Or part of it, anyway. You’ll never see the other half.”

“It’s OUR money,” he forcibly repeats, then fills her mug of tea from the pot on the stove before sitting down across from her. “Don’t ever call it just my money again.”

“You’re bossy.”

“Just telling it like it is. There’s nothing separate. Not anymore. Everything’s ours. There’s no yours or mine.”

“What about my cramps, my cravings for chocolate, and my pimples?” She gives a dramatic pout. “ I break out when my period is coming.”

“Okay, so all of THAT stuff is yours. How long have you been up?”

“A couple of hours. I did my yoga, took a bath. Then Lucy and I went for a walk; just down to the lake and back again. It’s not that cold out; it shouldn’t be too bad for walking around town for a bit. If you’re up to it.”

“I’m up to it. The knee’s feeling pretty good; didn’t try to give way when I put weight on it. That’s a good sign.”

“You still have to wear the brace, though. At least for a few more weeks. Give it a chance to toughen up some more. And the sling…”

“I promise I will put both of them on before I leave the house.”

Stretching her legs out under the table, she jabs him in the stomach with one of her feet. “I nag you because I care.”

“And I put up with it because you’re insanely hot and give fucking amazing head.”

“Jerk,” she grumbles, then aggressively presses her heels into his crotch. Giggling when he softly tickles the bottoms of her feet before taking them both in one hand and settling them in his lap.

They easily and comfortably lapse into their usual morning routine. Something they’d established in Dhaka and had continued when he’d woken from his coma and could stay awake for prolonged periods of time and hold a lucid conversation. Him grumpy and silent as Esme -her ever cheerful, bubbly self- talked his ear off about everything under the sun. And while it had initially annoyed him and at times -in the midst of horrendous pain- he found himself praying she’d just ‘shut the fuck up’, he’s grown to enjoy it. Knowing that living with her chattiness and enthusiasm is a hell of a lot better than the alternative. Not living with her at all.

“And I started a list!” She announces as she switches from one topic to the other; making the effortless switch about having to shovel out the truck to her plans for the cabin. “Of things that we can tackle first in here. That won’t require too much manual labour.”

“Like…”

“Well, it’s really just ideas. For paint colours and flooring and if not new furniture altogether, at least covers for what’s already here. Modern it up, a bit.”

“I think we should go new everything. If we’re going to make this place a home, might as well go all out.”

“That’s exactly what I was thinking. Which means we’re going to need a stove. Right now, we’re just dealing with two hot plates and a toaster oven. And I’m sorry, but those just aren’t going to cut it. I can’t bake in a toaster oven.”

“You bake?”

“I thought I told you that. I DO bake. And not to toot my horn, but I bake VERY well. I actually held a record in Colorado! Voted best pecan butter tarts in the entire state FIVE YEARS running!”

“I’m banging a celebrity.”

“A small-time celebrity, mind you. But yes, I do bake. And I LOVE doing it.”

“What else do you make? Besides these butter tarts?”

“Anything and everything. Cakes, pies, dessert squares, bread. Nothing is off limits.”

“Boston Cream pie?”

“That was my dad’s absolute favourite. He’s the one who taught me how to make it. I still use his recipe.”

“I’m going to gain a lot of weight, aren’t I.”

“You might. Although you’re a pretty active guy. You work out a lot and run and….”

“I’m not doing any of that right now.”

“Maybe not, but you’re not feeble. I can think of other ways…” She once more digs her toes into his crotch. “...that you can work up a sweat. Keep the pounds off.”

“You mean my favourite form of cardio?”

She wiggles her eyebrows suggestively, laughing when he reaches further under the table and tickles the back of her knee. “You would have liked him. My dad. He was a good guy.”

“How could he not have been? He raised you, didn’t he?”

“He did a lot more than my mom ever did, that’s for sure. We were a lot alike; we were both outgoing and chatty, and we enjoyed meeting new people everywhere we went. And we loved the same things; hockey and dirt biking and rock climbing. Fishing. We were ALWAYS outside. And we used to take trips, just the two of us. We’d rent a trailer and drive all over the state and visit all different kinds of different RV parks. Sometimes we even went further. Right into Kansas or Oklahoma or Nebraska. Even New Mexico. We did it just do it. Get away from it all. And especially to get away from my mother and brothers.”

“Yeah, she sounds like a real piece of work.”

“You remind me of him. In a lot of ways. How much you love the outdoors and animals, how far you’re willing to go to protect people. You’re all about rooting for the underdog. Sticking up for them when no one else does or when they can't do it for themselves. He was the same way.”

“That’s a hell of a compliment. Being compared to him. Considering everything you’ve told me about him…”

“I think he would have liked you. Maybe not a first; at first, he might have had a hard time. I mean, you being the one that managed to scoop up his baby girl and take her all the way to the other side of the world in a quest to make an honest woman out of her.”

He grins. “That’s one way of putting it.”

“But he would have warmed up to you. Eventually. Not sure how he would have felt about the mercenary thing…”

“That might have been something to keep quiet. Spare him from having a heart attack. Your mother, on the other hand…”

“She has been leaving me all kinds of messages; voice mails, texts, emails, even. She is not buying the whole ‘meeting someone on a business trip and deciding to shack up with them’ story I handed her. I guess I’ve underestimated her; she IS smart enough to put the pieces together.”

“You’ll have to talk to her sooner or later.”

“Can I choose later?”

“Not unless you want her to keep calling and bugging the shit out of you.”

“I just don’t know what to say. What more does she need to know? I met someone, and I’m not coming back to the States. It’s as simple as that.”

“As evil as she is, and I’m in no way on her side, I think you owe her more than that.”

“I can’t tell her how we met. I can’t tell her what I really did for a living. And I definitely can’t tell her that you’re a mercenary. Because that will go through the family like wildfire, and believe me, that is not drama either of us deserves to deal with.”

“I’m not a mercenary. Not anymore. I WAS one. Is there a reason you don’t want her to know that? Does it embarrass you, or are you ashamed of it or…?”

“Oh my god, no! No! It’s nothing like that. I’m neither of those. Not when it comes to you or what you do for a living. It has nothing to do with you and EVERYTHING to do with her. She will raise hell. And then she’ll get my brothers involved and…”

“What can they do? They’re in Colorado. We’re in Austria. It’s not like they’re going to show up on our doorstep.”

“I just know what she’s like. How she blows things way out of proportion. And right now? I just do NOT want to deal with her shit. I don’t want her causing issues and then having it trickle all the way here and cause problems with us. That’s all I’m concerned about. You and me. And this happy little bubble we’ve locked ourselves into. Can’t we at least try and keep it intact?”

“You’re going to have to tell her sooner or later. The WHOLE truth. Because it’s going to get it one way or another, and I just think it’s better if you’re the one that tells her. She’d lose it more if she found out from someone else.”

“She’s just so evil. And if you never meet her, trust me, it’s for the best. You don’t deserve to put up with her shit.”

“How worse could it get? She already hates me, doesn’t she?”

“She doesn’t even know you.”

“I’m the one that stole her little girl away. By gunpoint, if you go by her reaction. She probably thinks I’m holding you hostage. That I don’t let you leave the house. Or…in your case… answer the phone.”

“I will talk to her. I promise. Just not right now. Not for a few days. Can’t we settle in? Somewhat, at least?”

“You know I’m going to nag the shit out of you until you actually DO contact her, yeah?”

Esme sighs. “I know. In the same way, I will consistently nag you about taking care of yourself. What’s that saying? All is fair in love and war? If you have to put up with me, I guess it’s only fair I put up with you.”

“We both know that I’m the one suffering the most.”

She once more digs her toes into his stomach. “As if!”

They once more fall into a companionable silence. Even from the beginning, there’s never been a need for mindless chit-chat; both extremely comfortable in the other's presence. No feeling of awkwardness or the need to put on airs and hide even the messiest and most complicated parts. While living with someone will take a considerable amount of both work and sacrifice, the foundation has already been laid: an ease and trust that should make any hurdle easier to get over.

There’s contentment in merely sharing the same space with her. Whether it be sitting across the table from one another or lounging on separate ends of the couch, or listening to her hum as she busies herself in the kitchen or the bedroom. Even seeing her belongings nestled beside his on the bathroom counter or her clothes hanging near his. And he’s discovered that he’s plagued with a constant need to touch her in some way; whether it be their toes against one another under the table, sides of their legs pressed together while watching TV, or brushing up against while she stands at the sink or the stove DESPITE there being room for not to even come in contact with her. Perhaps it’s to prove to himself that she’s indeed real; she truly HAS become a part of his life. She’s there willingly and happily. And while she doesn’t necessarily need him, she WANTS him.

He watches her now as she alternates between scrolling through a webpage on her laptop and jotting notes in her memo book; the way she chews on the inside of her cheek or taps the pen against the paper, those freckles -in all their glory- that are splattered across the bridge of her nose and travel onto the tops of her cheeks. Fresh-faced and beautiful; she seems years younger with her wild hair and the piercing just below the middle of her bottom lip, and the small, silver hoops and various sparkling studs that travel from the lobes of her ears to the very top of the cartilage. She’s both girl next door and filled with oddities and eccentricities; a mix of both polished and ‘rough around the edges’.

And to him, she’s perfect.

“You feel like going out for lunch today? When we’re in town?”

She looks up from her notebook, dark eyes gleaming. “Are you asking me out on a date, Tyler Rake?”

“Guess it’s about time. Didn’t exactly get the chance to nine months ago. And I’ve been a little…busy…between then and now.”

“Where are we going to eat?”

“Anywhere you want. Mind you, I’m not sure how many options we’re actually going to find, but…”

“What do they think they eat here?”

“Probably what people all over the world eat. All different kinds of things.”

“But I wonder what their specialty is. What they’re known for. There must be such a thing as Austrian cuisine, right?”

“I guess we’re going to find out, aren’t we? So is that a yes, or….”

Sighing, she sighs dramatically and returns her attention to her notepad. “I’m going to have to think about it.”

Scowling, he pinches the back of her calf.

“Of course, it’s a yes! Did you honestly think you’d get a different answer?”

“You know, you’re lucky you’re cute.”

“It comes in handy.”

“I bet you get away with an awful lot because of it.”

She smiles mischievously and then reaches for her tea, winking at him from over the brim as she presses it to her lips. “That’s something YOU’RE going to find out.”

#tw:childhood cancer #tw:child death #tw: miscarriage #Tyler and Esme series #Tyler Rake #Tyler Rake fan fic #Tyler Rake fan fiction #Extraction #Extraction 2 #Extraction fanfic #Extraction fan fiction #Chris Hemsworth #Esme Drummond #Tyler Rake x OFC #Esme Rake

[chickensarentcheap]

@tragiclyhip @munstysmind @youflickedtooharddamnit @secretaryunpaid @karimac @ninjasawakenedmystar @starryeyes2000 @asirensrage @thesirenrealm @residentdormouse @mrsmungus @kmc1989​ @timbradfordsboot​

“She had her reasons. For doing what she did.  She was terrified;  that you’d be angry enough  to turn her and Millie away.”

“That never would have happened. Not in a million years.  Five years, AB.  I have missed her for FIVE YEARS.  I never went on with my life. Not really.  I always wondered what happened to her.  What made her leave? What did I do that sent her running? Why didn’t she gave me a chance? To fix whatever it was.”

‘You didn’t do anything, Tyler. You…”

“But I didn’t know that did, I.  And the reason why I didn’t know that is because I didn’t even get an explanation. I got an ‘I’m sorry’ written on a scrap piece of paper,  left in the middle of my kitchen table. What the hell was I supposed to do with that? What was I supposed to think? Did she just get tired of my shit and take off? Did she meet someone else?  Did someone come there and grab her and are gonna call for a ransom? You know what that was like? Wondering what the hell happened to her? Going through every possible scenario?”

“No,” Abuela admits. “I don’t. And I can’t even begin to imagine.”

“It got to the point I wished she was dead.  Not because I hated her and I felt she deserved it. But because I loved her and I couldn’t stand the thought of her being with someone else.  It hurt less to consider her permanently gone than it did to think about her leaving me for someone else.   How fucked up is that?  What kind of sick prick thinks that way?”

“You were hurting.  It was a huge loss. And not knowing exactly what happened…”

“I never stopped loving her.  I never went on with my life.  I don’t think I even really tried.  My entire world ended when she left.  And the only thing that kept me going was this little shred of hope I held onto.  That maybe one day she’d just show up on my doorstep.  Or I’d pick up the phone and it would be her voice on the other end of the line.  I’ve been holding onto that for FIVE YEARS.”

#Tyler and Esme series #Lost and Found #Tyler Rake fan fiction #Extraction fan fiction #Tyler Rake fan fic #Extraction fan fic #Tyler Rake x OFC

[chickensarentcheap]

Lost and Found- Chapter 15

Fandom: Extraction

Pairing: Tyler Rake and Esme Drummond (established OFC. Although you do not need to read the others to understand this one)

Warnings:  profanity, brief mentions of childhood cancer and death, brief mention of spousal abuse

Tagging: @tragiclyhip @munstysmind @youflickedtooharddamnit @secretaryunpaid @asirensrage @residentdormouse @arrthurpendragon @timbradfordsboot @kmc1989 @ninjasawakenedmystar @starryeyes2000 @thesirenrealm @karimac @ocappreciationtag @occommunity​

Link to Ao3: https://archiveofourown.org/works/43179357/chapters/121472395

My tag list is open :) Please just let me know if you’d like to be added :)

******

With two fingers hooked in the neckline on the rear of Millie’s shirt, he steers her towards an empty table; dumping her bag onto one of the benches before helping her get seated. A light yet protective hand rests in the middle of her back as she climbs up; grinning as she dramatically grunts and groans and complains "frickin’ hell, so high!". Helping her get settled, he retreats to the other side of the table and takes a seat across from her, smiling at the waitress that sets menus down before them and then placing an order for a cup of coffee and a glass of chocolate milk.

“I can read, you know,” Millie proudly announces, as she flips open one of the menus. “No really big words, but small and medium ones. Momma taught me. She reads to me all the time. Even when I was a baby she did.”

“Your mum loves to read. When I knew her a long time ago, she always carried a book with her wherever she went. She used to want to own a book store; when she was a little girl.”

“Really?”

“Sometimes she’d talk about it. Mention that maybe one day she’d go through it. And she used to write too. Loved keeping a journal. She still do that?”

“Sometimes. She has a little diary she keeps by her bed. In the nightstand.”

“What does she write about?”

“I don’t know,” Millie shrugs. “ I’m not allowed to look at it. And she won’t read it to me. She says it’s private. But she said maybe when I’m older and I can understand the stuff in it, she’ll give it to me.”

“Does she have a lot of books? In the house?”

“Lots and lots and lots. Three bookcases full! She’s going to be sad that we can’t bring them with us.”

“We’ll have to make sure we get her new ones. Maybe give her a little room just for them.”

“Like a little library?”

Tyler nods.

“Momma would love that. Books make her happy. And I want momma to be happy. She hasn’t been happy in a while. It makes me sad.”

“Why hasn’t she been happy?”

“I think mostly ‘cause of Alessio. And what a pain in the ass he is. He’s not very nice to her. He was always yelling and saying mean things to her. And me. You’re nice though. You don’t yell or say mean things.”

“You won’t have to ever worry about that. Me being mean and yelling at you and your mum. I’m only mean to people who deserve it.”

“Like Alessio? And the bad guys?”

“Exactly.”

The four-year-old chews thoughtfully on her bottom lips. “Maybe we could call momma. And make sure she’s okay. I don’t trust Alessio. And if he even touches momma a little bit…”

“Auntie Nik’s with her. She won’t let anything happen to your mum. And believe me, in a pinch? Your mum could totally take him. She’s little, but she hits pretty damn hard.”

“I’d still feel better if we talked to her. And make sure everything is alright.”

“How about we text? Just in case she’s in the middle of something and doesn’t want her phone to ring.”

“That’ll do I guess.”

She kneels on the bench and leans across the table as he slips his phone out of a pocket of his jeans; holding the device on an angle that allows her to read the text that he awkwardly composes with one finger.

“You know what you should do? You should put a heart at the beginning and the end of momma’s name. So everyone sees it.”

“Who’s going to go into my phone?”

“I don’t know. But IF they do and they see the hearts, then they know that mom is your girlfriend. And you love her.”

A grin plays on his lips. “I love her, do I?”

“You’re her boyfriend, right? You guys kissed. That means you love her, right?”

“It takes a little more than that, but…”

“And your eyes get all sparkly. Whenever you look at her. So do mom’s. When she looks at you. Seems like love to me. You do, right? Love momma? You can say so; I won’t tell her you said if you don’t want me to you. If it embarrasses you or something.”

“You can keep a secret?”

“Well, kinda. I mean, I’m not even five yet. Sometimes it’s really hard to remember what I’m not supposed to say. Like when momma tells me not to curse at school or in front of visitors. Sometimes I forget. I try telling myself ‘Millie, those are inside your head ONLY words’. But it doesn’t always work.”

“I have the same problem. I sometimes say the words I should keep in my head, too.”

“It’s really hard, right? Especially when people test your patience. Which is A LOT.”

“You’re telling me.”

“So DO you? Love momma? You can tell me, Tyler. And I promise to try really hard not to say anything to anyone.”

“I do. I love your mumma very much.”

“Does that mean you’ll be around a lot? Even after the bad guys are gone away?”

“I hope to be. I WANT to be. Would that be alright with you? If I was. I know it’s always been just you and your mum and it’s probably really hard to share her.”

“I just don’t like sharing her with assholes.”

“Has there been a lot of assholes?”

“No. Just Alessio. And he’s a big enough one. I hope you stay around. I don’t want you to go anywhere. I like having you around. You make me smile. You make momma smile too. And she’s extra beautiful when she smiles. I hope you don’t leave us. Once you’re done working.”

The emotion that surges through him is difficult to contain; tightening his chest and throat and threatening a flood of tears. It’s the realization that this precious, innocent little being loves him ‘as is’; regardless of how big and burly and intimidating and despite how heavily scarred he is both emotionally and physically. She accepts and adores him while not even knowing he’s her father; enjoying every minute of their time together and feeling safe and protected whenever he’s around. The sweet, innocent honesty behind her words make him think of his son; of that terrified man who’d once stood outside of his sick little boy’s hospital room and chose to run. And while can’t go back in time and erase what he’d done or make that up to Austi, he can at least do right by him; show that he’s learned from his mistakes and won’t ever be ‘that guy’ again.

It’s all so surreal. Overwhelming. The fact that this vibrant, incredible little human belongs to him.

‘I’ll stick around for as long as your mumma will let me.”

“Good.” A bright, beaming smile spreads across her face; crinkling the corners of her eyes and the bridge of her nose. “That means you’re NEVER gonna leave.”

*****

They share a plate of french fries -doused in plenty of white vinegar and ketchup- and a massive bowl of ice cream. Millie entertaining him the entire time; chattering away about school and all of her friends and the things she loves the most and those that she absolutely despises. Telling him all about their old apartment in Queens; the little balcony that momma had hung flower planters on and the bird feeders she put up and how the squirrels always managed to get to them first. Gushing about her want -and need- for a dog and a big backyard to go with it; somewhere they can play fetch with a tree to hang a swing on and enough room to pitch a tent and have at home ‘camping trips’. And she once again expresses the hope and desire of going to Australia; looking forward to seeing kangaroos and koalas and going to the beach.

When the food is finished and the dishes cleared, they sit in companionable silence; Tyler nursing a second cup of coffee while Millie plays a game -that she insisted he’d download- on his phone. He watches her with intense curiosity; taking in every inch of her face and every expression and use of body language. The way she tilts her head to the side while concentrating; how the tip of her tongue poking through both teeth and lips as she gives the current activity all her focus. Those thick, dark eyes lashes and those impossibly big hands with their long fingers; so nimble and quick as they seem to fly over the keyboard.

And when she’s had enough of the game, she places the phone on the table and takes a long sip of her chocolate milk; head briefly cocked to the side before she takes one of his hands in both of hers. Turning it palm down, she lays it on the table placing it on the wood below; her fingers curiously exploring his misshapen knuckles and various scars that decorate the flesh.

“How did you hurt yourself?”

“I’ve been in a few fights.”

“With bad guys?”

Tyler nods.

“Did they get hurt too?”

“They ended up a little worse than I did.”

“I bet you’re a really good fighter. And that you hit REALLY hard.”

“I can hold my own.”

“Did it hurt? When your hands got messed up?”

“A little. But I’ve had a lot worse.”

“What about this one?” Pushing herself up onto her knees, she leans across the table; a fingertip gliding over the scar that resides on the bridge of his nose.

“That’s your mum’s favourite.”

“It’s my favourite, too. I like how it makes your nose look. How’d that happen?”

“A little accident. When I was in the army.”

“What kind of accident?”

“A bomb went off. Close to where I was. I had goggles on and they broke and cut up my face. The nose was the worst.”

“You had to have stitches?”

“Quite a few.”

“I had to have some too. See?” Tilting her head back, she points to a small, barely visible scar on the bottom of her chin. “I fell in the bathtub. When I was really little. Momma just turned around to grab a towel and I tried to get out of the tub and I totally wiped out and hit my chin.”

“That must have been scary.”

“I don’t really remember it. Just what mom told me. She said there was a lot of blood. And that she cried a lot and nearly fainted. But she got it together and took me to the hospital. That’s where I got the stitches. I wish it was a cooler story, though. Like yours.”

“Maybe we should come up with one. That you can tell people when they ask about it.”

“Hmmmm…” She considers the possibilities. “Maybe I can say that a raccoon attacked me. In Central Park. We got into a fight ‘cause he tried to steal something from me. Like a hotdog or an ice cream cone or something like that. He got one good hit in and then I smoked him. That could work?”

He forces back a laugh. “It could.”

“Or…” Millie excitedly bounces up and down in her seat. “...a bear! We can say it was a bear! That we were on a camping trip and a bear tried to steal our food and I fought back!”

“Something tells me you should go with the raccoon. I think the bear thing might be a little far-fetched.”

“I suppose you’re right.” She gives a long, dramatic sigh. “Momma has scars too, you know. On her face. And on her back.”

“I know.”

He remembers the first time he’d seen the ones on her face; standing in the kitchen in that shack in the outback. Nik had left them in hopes they’d become acquainted before the job actually started; indulge in even the simplest of chit-chat that would allow them to get a pulse on one another. He’d been unusually transfixed by her; the incredibly tiny stature combined her confidence and enormous personality. Never before had he encountered anyone like her on the job; bright, bubbly, and optimistic despite being surrounded by danger and death. Finding himself enjoying her company; liking the way the sunshine made the natural red highlights in her hair glisten and how the slight tan to her skin brought out a selection of freckles splattered across the bridge of her nose. And the scars -long faded and rid of their puffiness- that marred smooth flesh.

Days later he’d encounter the ones that crisscrossed her upper back; his fingertips gliding over them as they lay in a tangled mess of naked, sweaty limbs and rumpled sheets. She’d stiffened against him at first; obviously self-conscious about their existence and the likely painful story that accompanied them. And when tears had welled in her eyes and she’d attempted to pull away, he’d simply tightened his hold on her. Showing that first hint of softness and compassion as he assured her that not only did she have nothing to be embarrassed about, but he found the most beautiful thing he’d ever seen. Promising her that he’d never make her feel as if she needed to hide any part of herself from him. And when she’d regained her confidence and once more relaxed in his embrace, the floodgates opened; sharing the long and agonizing story -and unsettling and horrific details- that chronicled her marriage.

It was her openness and honesty that had encouraged him to let down his guard; allowing him to talk about his son for the first time since his death. He hadn’t pulled any punches; telling her about Austin’s illness and the awful decision that he’d made prior to his passing. She was the first person who’d never looked at him like a monster and who…while still holding him accountable..sympathized with what he’d gone through. Expressing how difficult and heartbreaking it had to have been; hearing the diagnosis and then having to watch his son suffer and waste away. And as his parent, having to face not only the shortness of time and the presence of mortality, but the tremendous guilt that he couldn’t do a damn thing to fix his own flesh and blood.

“A boy did it you know,” Millie’s voice snaps him back to the present. “That’s why mommas has scars. A boy was mean to her. When she was married to him.”

“She told me. When we first met. She told him all about him. And the things he did to her.”

“I wish I could find him and kill him. For hurting my mom. I know that’s not a nice thing to say; wanting to kill someone. But it makes me really mad. That he did those things to her.”

“She’s your mum. You love her. You want to protect her. And don’t worry; I’ve wanted to kill him a few times myself.”

“We should team up! I could kick him in the shins until he falls down and then you can finish him off!”

“Something tells me your mumma wouldn’t go along with that. She’s not a hateful person. Even when someone hurts her.”

“She doesn’t have to know. Just like she doesn’t have to know that you let me have french fries AND ice cream.”

“That’s definitely a secret you’re going to have to take to the grave. I don’t think she’d be too happy knowing I filled you with junk.”

“I won’t ever tell her, I promise. But I might tell her that you love her. I bet that would make her happy.”

“How about you leave that to me? I think I should tell her that myself, don’t you?”

“It’s probably better that way.” Sitting back down in her seat, she finishes the last of her chocolate milk. “Do you have a mom?”

“No. I don’t.”

“What happened to her?”

“She died. When I was a little kid.”

“How old were you?”

“Nine.”

“That’s really young. What happened to her?”

“She was in a car accident. While I was at school.”

“That’s really sad. I’m sorry. That your momma died.” Tears well in her eyes; lower lip and her chin trembling. “That’s not fair. That’s not fair AT ALL.”

Briefly standing up, Tyler holds her arms out towards her, waiting until she’s perched upon her knees to effortlessly scoop her out of her seat. And he once more settles down on the bench; placing her sideway across his lap, her arms immediately wrapping around his neck and her head falling upon his shoulder.

“You don’t need to be sorry. It was a long time ago. And you’re just a little kid. That shouldn’t be getting upset over these things.”

“I can’t help it.” Millie reaches for the chain he wears around his neck; pulling it out from the neck of his shirt and then fidgeting with the dog tag that dangles from it. “I don’t know what I would do. If something happened to my momma.”

“It’s alright. I got you.” He rubs her back in slow, comforting circles. “Your mumma is going to be just fine. There’s no reason for you to cry.”

“ I’d miss her. I’d be really sad. For the rest of my life.”

“You don’t have to worry about that. Because nothing is going to happen to her. For a very, very, VERY long time.”

“You don’t know that.”

“I know that I would do anything to protect her. From anyone and anything.”

“And me too?”

“Of course. You guys are a package deal. Can’t have one without the other, yeah?”

She sniffles noisily and nods. “I wish you’d been there. At the house. When the bad guys showed up.”

“I bet it was really scary. When it all happened.”

“I was sleeping and momma woke me up. She said we had to leave. Right away. There was lots of noise. People were yelling and swearing and there were lots of guns going off. I didn’t know that’s what it was at first. I thought it was firecrackers or something.”

“That would be pretty scary, alright. Especially for a little kid.”

“And Auntie Nik and Uncle John were there. And he wrapped me in a blanket. So the bad guys wouldn’t see me. I almost forgot Posie and Franklin. I would have been so sad if I forgot them. But momma grabbed them. And then we all ran out of the house. I saw dead bodies. Lots of them.”

“Sometimes we have to do things that we don’t always like. To protect the people we love. Auntie Nik and Uncle John did everything they could to get you and your mum out of there. And they had to get rid of some of the bad guys for it to happen.”

“I’m not sad. That they’re dead. They deserved it. Does that make me a bad person? Not being sad?”

‘No. It doesn’t make you a bad person at all. They tried to hurt you. And your mum. They don’t deserve you being sad about them.”

It was really scary. All the noise and the people chasing us. And I didn’t want to leave my house. Or all my stuff.”

“Well, now you’re going to have a new house. In a new place. And you’ll get lots of new things. I’ll make sure of it.”

“Are we going to live at your place? For good? Or just until there’s no more bad guys?”

“I’m not sure Your mum and I haven’t talked about things like that yet. For now, how about we just take it a day at a time? Worry about the bad guys first and then go from there. Sound good?”

“Sounds good.”

‘I’m sorry, Millie. That all of that happened. That you had to see and hear the things that you did. It’s not fair. At all.”

“I wish you’d been there. To protect me. And momma. I bet the bad guys never would have tried to hurt us. They would have been really scared of you and just left us alone. You would have scared them off, right?”

“I would have done my best, yeah.”

“Do you think they’ll come back? When we leave here? Do you think they’ll follow us to our new house?”

“I don’t think so. I think they know that would be a really, really, REALLY bad idea. But if they do, I’ll make sure nothing bad happens to you. Or your mum. You guys are safe with me, I promise. Do you trust me?”

“I trust you.”

“Come here…” Increasing his hold on her; he drops a kiss on the top of her head and then lays a hand on her cheek; slight pressure encouraging her to once more rest upon his shoulder. “Everything’s going to be alright, kiddo. I’m going to get you and mumma out of here. Away from the bad guys. For good.”

“Promise?”

“I promise. Nothing is going to happen to you. Or mumma. I’ve got you, Millie. Don’t ever doubt that. I’ve got you. And I always will.”

******

“I don’t know the first thing about girls.”

They lay in Esme’s bed, on their sides facing each other, conversing in voices barely above a whisper. Millie fast asleep between them; her beloved doll and koala bear tucked under her arms and her face pressed into Tyler’s chest. She’d been woken by a nightmare an hour before; padding to her mother’s room and then panicking when she’d found the door locked. It had brought a frustrating and abrupt end to the adult activities taking place inside; both scrambling to find shirts and pants and then hastily pulling them off before answering the door. Millie had been instantly comforted to find Tyler there; racing past her mother and throwing her arms around his thighs; wasting no time in climbing and wriggling her way up his body. Tearfully chattering about the dream she’d had; a vivid and horrendous rehash of the events four nights ago. She wouldn’t hear of it when -after tucking her in beside her mother- he’d announced that he should be heading back to his own room. They had a long, tedious ‘work-centric’ day ahead of them and he was still fighting the effects of both jet lag and his oft-injured body; feeling the deep, penetrating ache of the arthritis in his knee and shoulder. But Millie had thrown a tantrum at the mere thought of him not being close by; sobbing and pleading for him to stay until she at least fell back asleep. And he hadn’t had the heart to refuse her.

Now she snores lightly with her face pressed into him; his palm resting lightly on the top of her head as his fingertips press through hair and softly massage her scalp in slow, smooth circles. His free hand lounges on Esme’s side, occasionally slipping down and following the curve of her hip and sliding back to cup her ass.

Her eyes flicker open and she places a hand on his forearm; fingernails gently and repeatedly scratching along the smooth, tanned skin. “Where did that come from?”

“Just been thinking about it. Since I met her. About how I’ve never raised a daughter. Just a son. And I didn’t get a chance to raise him for very long, so…”

“You take care of her just like you took care of him.”

“But it’s different. He was a boy. She’s a girl.”

“She’s a little kid. Just like he was.”

“But what do I DO with her? I know what to do with a boy. They like roughhousing and sports and fishing and camping and…”

“Millie likes all those things too. She loves to climb trees and get dirty and splash in mud puddles. I know she considers herself quite the diva, but she’s not your typical princess, believe me. She loves her glitter and her dolls and her manis and pedis, but she also loves her camo and her superheroes and her UFC.”

Tyler grins. “UFC? You let her watch that shit? You’re a terrible mother.”

“It’s my dirty little parenting secret. I let her watch it on my phone while I make dinner. It keeps her entertained AND out of my hair. She loves that shit.”

“She is DEFINITELY mine.”

“Well, inside I made her by myself when you weren't around or she was an immaculate conception…”

“I never meant that. What I said last night. When I accused you of being with someone else. I just lashed out. I’m not proud of it. For thinking that about you.”

“You’d had a lot dropped in your lap in a really short period of time. You were angry and hurt and overwhelmed and…”

“I know you’re not like that. A cheater. I know you’d never do that to me. To anyone. And I’m sorry. That I…”

“Tyler…” She places two fingers over his lips to silence him. “...don’t. You don’t have to apologize. I know what you get like when you’re angry or you’re feeling overwhelmed or you’re anxious; you lash out and you say things you don’t mean.”

“I don’t want to be like that. Not with you. And especially not with Millie.”

“It’s something we can work on. Together. When all of this is over and there isn’t so much on your plate. It DID hurt. At the time. But I’m not holding it against you. I never would. So please…” Mindful of the little body between them, she leans in to press a kiss to his lips. “...don’t dwell. Don’t beat yourself up over it.”

“I know right away she was mine. As soon as I saw her. There was no doubt in my mind.”

“She’s always been just like you. Even when she was in my belly. My last ultrasound before she was born, they took a picture of her profile and I saw you right away. I was like ‘Now that’s a Rake baby if I’ve ever seen one’. The forehead, the ear, the chin, even your nose. Well, the part that HASN’T been broken.”

“Are you saying my kid’s ugly?”

“I’m saying she’s beautiful. Just like her dad.”

“You know normally I wouldn’t let you get away with using that word when it comes to me, but…”

“I tried so hard. To be happy. I was finally getting what I always wanted; a chance to be a mom. But it was hard. So damn hard. Because that is NOT how I wanted it to happen. I didn’t want to be going through all of that alone. I wanted you to be there. I wanted us to be doing all of that together.”

“I’m sorry it couldn’t be that way. Because I would have been there. In a heartbeat. If you’d called me and told me about her, I would have been on the first flight. No questions asked. No grudges held.”

“I almost texted you so many times. Especially right after she was born. I could never bring myself to go through with it, though. I couldn’t do that to you; put you on The High Table’s radar. I never would have forgiven myself; if something had happened to you because of my mistakes. And I AM sorry, Tyler. That I didn’t act sooner. After the coast was clear. I never meant to…”

“Now who’s dwelling?”

“I have a lot to make up for. It’s not something that’s going to be instantly fixed. It’s going to take a long time for us to get past it. If we ever really do.”

“We just work on it a day at a time. And yeah, on some of those days, things are going to be shittier than others. Doesn’t mean we’re not going to get past it. I think if we can get past Dhaka, we can get it past anything.”

“That’s an entirely different situation. I didn’t betray you in Dhaka. I didn’t keep your kid from you. I didn’t…”

“You had your reasons. I’m still trying to understand them. But I’m getting there.”

“I wouldn’t change things. At least not the first year. I KNOW I did the right thing. Keeping you safe. But as for the rest of it…”

“We can worry about the rest of it some other time. We don’t have to try to fix things in the first forty-eight hours, do we? Are we on some kind of deadline? Does it have to be done before we leave New York City?”

“No. I just thought that maybe the sooner the better. The sooner we talk about it…I mean REALLY talk about it and you get everything you need to say out in the open…”

“I’ve said what I need to say. To you. What more do you want to hear?”

“I want to hear that you forgive me. That you don’t hate me. That you…”

“I DO forgive you. I wouldn’t be here right now if I didn’t. If I hated you, do you think I would have struck around? When I saw you were the client?”

“I mean, there was a lot of money involved…”

“It wouldn’t have mattered if it was all the money in the world. If I hated you, I would have been gone. I have never hated you. Not even for a single goddamn second.”

“You had plenty of reasons to. And I would haven’t blamed you. If you did.”

“I NEVER hated you,” he sternly repeats. “I love you. I always have. I always will. Don’t ever doubt that, Me.”

Smiling, she reaches up to brush his bangs off his forehead. Then uses a nail to lightly trace the length of the scar on the left side of his brow. “I missed hearing that. That nickname.”

“I missed saying it.”

Her fingertips trace the outer edge of his ear and then follow the line of his jaw. Passing over scars and through the wiry hair of his beard before taking his chin between index digit and thumb and kissing him softly. She closes her eyes and rests her forehead against the bridge of his nose, enjoying his familiar smell and the heat that radiates off his body. His one hand continues the massaging of Millie’s scalp while the other slips up Esme’s t-shirt; calloused fingertips gliding back and forth across the small of her back. And with a long, content sigh, her palm slides to the nape of his neck; nails lightly and repeatedly scraping along the bottom of his hairline.

“Do you really let her watch UFC?

Esme laughs. “I told you; she loves that shit. And she’s quite the fighter. She’s been known to lay a beat down on a bully.”

“That’s my girl.”

“She is definitely her father’s daughter. She’s got your temper. And your left hook.”

“Means I won’t worry about her so much. As she’s growing up. She’ll be able to handle her own; if some guy gets a little too…comfortable…with her.”

“Who are you kidding? You’re totally going to be an overprotective dad. Every time she goes out on a date, you’ll wait for her. Sit out on the front porch, cleaning your gun. Maybe even more than one.”

“Date? Bold of you to assume I’m even going to let her.”

“You can’t keep her locked away in the house forever.”

“You just watch me.”

“And you just watch her totally rebel against you. Shave all her hair or get a neon green mohawk and tons of piercings and tattoos. Date some total badass that wears head-to-toe leather and drives a Harley and has a criminal record as long as your arm.”

“You seem to forget that I know how to kill a man a hundred different ways with my bare hands. I also know how to hide the evidence. And the body.”

“Or maybe she’ll go in the opposite direction and date a guy like you.”

“You realize that’s worse, yeah? That I’d rather the biker?”

“Oh yeah, because you’re just such a terrible catch. You’re just absolutely hideous and mean as fuck and you smell awful.”

“I kill people. For money.”

“No. You don’t. You help people. And sometimes killing is part of it. A means to an end.”

“You always did try and romanticize it.”

“You may not be a perfect man, but you’re a GOOD man. And despite what you think of yourself for a decision you made years ago, you’re going to be a great dad. You already are.”

“I just worry I won’t know what to do with her. That I won’t know what she likes or doesn’t like or…”

“Just follow her lead. She’ll tell you everything you need to know, believe me. Millie is NOT shy. She is definitely not afraid to speak her mind. In the slightest. That kid has absolutely no chill.”

“Gets that from her mother.”

“I don’t know, her father might not say too much, but when he does…” Her voice trails off when Millie stirs yet doesn’t wake; sighing and mumbling in her sleep as she rubs her face against her father’s t-shirt. And she runs a hand over her daughter’s hair and drops a kiss on the top of her head. “She’s everything I ever wanted. And the best thing that’s ever happened to me. Aside from her dad, of course.”

“You’ve done good, Me. With her. I know it wasn’t easy; going through all of that alone and being a single mum. And I know that’s not how you wanted things to be.”

“All I wanted was you. And all those things we talked about; when it came to settling down and starting a family. I always thought we’d go through it together; having a baby. And if there was any way I could have changed things, I would. If there’d been a way for you to be there AND be safe….?”

“You’re an amazing mum. I always knew you would be. But everything you’ve done for her? On your own? You’re a fucking superhero.”

“Hardly. I’ve just done what I’ve had to do. Devoted everything I have to being her mom. Wouldn’t any woman do that?”

“No. They wouldn’t. Not considering the circumstances. A lot wouldn’t have even gone through with it; having the baby at all.”

“It was never an option. I was having her regardless of anything going on around me. I was finally going to be a mom. Something I had wanted for so long. And she was all I had that belonged to you. The only connection to that part of my life. There was no way I could have let that go.”

Her honesty hits hard and deep; emotion tightening his chest and his throat. The anger and hurt replaced by something far more viable and useful; a mixture of love and adoration and pride. And there’s a distinct feeling of absolute awe and amazement; faced with the realization that her love for him was -and still is- that profound. That despite the obstacles she was facing and the danger she was constantly in, she was more than willing to put it all on the line to bring his child…THEIR child…into the world.

“I need to be totally transparent,” she says, and chews on her bottom lip. “Completely honest with you. It’s not going to be easy for me; getting used to parenting with someone. It’s just been Millie and I all this time; I’ve been the only one making decisions when it comes to her. So if I ever feel challenged and I lash out, please don’t take it personally, Tyler. It isn’t you. It’s me. It’s going to take me some time. To realize it’s not just me anymore.”

“We’ve both got our things to work on. I’m still trying to wrap my head around being a girl dad. That’s a little…scary.”

“Maybe it’s karma. For those years of sowing your wild oats. And not always knowing where and who spread them with.”

“At least karma wasn’t in the form of an STD.”

“Bright side, I guess. And you’re going to be just fine; as a girl dad. Look how good you’re already doing with her. How much she adores you. And she doesn’t even know the truth yet.”

“I just don’t want to fuck this up. I have to do it right this time. I NEED to do it right.”

“And you WILL. I’m not even the slightest bit worried about it. She’s so attached to you. All she talks about when you’re not around is ‘Tyler this, Tyler that’ or ‘can we call Tyler?’ ‘can Tyler come over?’ It’s constant.”

“See? She has more in common with you than you think. You’re both obsessed with me.”

“I don’t know it’s an obsession, but…” (brushes his bangs off his forehead) “...we think you’re kinda awesome. We’re pretty nuts about you. And while I’m thinking about it, there’s something else I need to apologize for.”

“Esme…”

“This…” She nods down at Millie. “...is NOT what I had in mind. When I asked you to stay.”

“I’m sure it won’t be the first time she cock blocks me.”

“Well, we COULD try again. IF you want. You could put her back in her own bed. See how long she lasts there. Unless you’d rather take a long, cold shower and handle things yourself…”

“I think I’ll take my chances putting her in her own bed.”

“How did I ever know you were going to say that?” Esme chides, then presses a kiss to the top of Millie’s temple before rolling onto her back; watching as he gingerly peels himself away from their daughter’s sleeping form and slowly slides out of bed. Effortlessly scooping her -and both her doll and teddy- up into his arms and holding her tight to his chest, placing his lips tenderly on her brow and whispering “It’s alright. I got you” when she sleepily protests.

So many times over the course of her pregnancy and Millie’s four years on earth she’d imagined this moment; bearing witness to this big, strong man cuddling and caring for their child. Those hands -enormous and calloused and scarred with their misshapen knuckles- cradling her just so perfectly and protectively. Tears welling in her eyes and pride tugging at her chest as she sees that stunning juxtaposition between ‘mercenary Tyler’ and ‘home Tyler’; his eyes and his voice and his entire being taken over by a softness once reserved solely for her. This beautiful yet damaged and physically and mentally weary man who can easily take a life, yet is capable of so much tenderness and love.

And the moment is everything she’d never dreamed of. And hoped for.

*******

The second attempt is successful; slow and attentive foreplay followed by languid and tender sex. The kind that comes with not only phenomenal patience and deep and profound love and adoring, but tremendous knowledge in every inch of your lover’s body AND mind. Yet somehow still managing to feel like an entirely new experience; the five years that have separated them now sending them on a shared journey of re-discovery. There’s an exciting newness that accompanies the delicious familiarity. Both able to spot the changes to each other’s physical forms; the extra weight and the added scars and those faint stretch marks that pay testament to when she’d carried human life inside of her.

She rests on her side; tightly tucked into him as he lays on his back with an arm around her waist. Her arm draped lazily across his collarbone and her face pressed into the favourite spot between neck and shoulder; enjoying the way his fingertip slowly and methodically trace the elaborate tattoo that stretches from one of her hips to the other. Both are exhausted; their bodies blissfully spent and covered in thin sheets of sweat. the wrinkled top sheet pulled up just below his navel.

Placing his free hand on her shoulder, his calloused fingertips travel down smooth, silky skin; stopping when they reach the base of her wrist. “I should go.”

“Why?”

“Because it’s really late. Or really early. Depending on how you want to look at it.”

“I don’t mean that. I mean why ‘should’ you? You don’t HAVE to. No one is forcing you to leave. Wouldn’t you rather stay here? Don’t you WANT to stay here?”

“Of course I do. What kind of question is that? I just thought we weren’t doing that yet? Thought you said it was too soon?”

“I changed my mind.” She presses a long, lingering kiss to that sensitive spot below his left earlobe. “We’ve already gone five years. Let’s not go even another five minutes.”

“You think it’s a good idea?”

“The only other people staying in this suite are Nik and Abuela. And they already know what’s going on with us.”

“I was thinking more about Millie. And how she likes to come in here and snuggle with her mum.”

“We just need to be proactive and put on some kind of clothes before we fall asleep. Preferably below the waist. Save the awkwardness.”

“I didn’t wear any underwear today.”

Esme gives a derisive snort. “Colour me surprised. Isn’t that ninety-eight percent of your days?”

“More like fifty-fifty now. Have you ever tried fighting a fire with no underwear on?”

“Can’t say I have. Is it like that Christmas song? About nuts roasting on an open fire?”

Pushing a hand through her hair, Tyler tugs on her dark tresses, encouraging her to look at him. “What is wrong with you?”

“You mean right now? Or in general?”

Smirking, he plants a kiss on the bridge of her nose. “Won’t it be awkward if she finds me here? When she just comes walking in?”

“She’ll just chalk it up to something boyfriends and girlfriends do together. Sleep in the same bed.”

“If she asks any questions later in the day…”

“I’ll answer them. I’m used to her level of curiosity and her freakish powers of observation. She gets that from you, you know. Her ability to break down a situation in five seconds flat. Notice even the smallest of details, read peoples’ expressions and body language.”

“You were always really good at that stuff too. Let’s face it, you didn’t get to be as good at your job WITHOUT being a pro at them.”

“I mean, I must not be too shabby. It only took me about fifteen seconds after meeting you to know you were a huge softy.”

“I am going to pretend I never heard you say that.”

“You can hide it from everyone else, Tyler Rake. But you can’t hide it from me. You’ve never been able to.”

“I thought you wanted me to stay? You keep talking like that…”

“Still so difficult,” she grumbles.

“I wouldn’t be me if I wasn’t.”

“You mean an insufferable pain in my ass?” she chides, and yelps when he aggressively pinches one of her butt cheeks.

“You’re lucky I love you.”

“Yes, I am. Especially considering…”

“We’re not going there. We’ve talked about that enough for one night. I don’t care what we talk about. Sports, the weather, the job even. Just not THAT.”

“You still haven’t answered my question. Will you?” She presses a kiss to one corner of his mouth, then the other. “Stay?”

“Of course. Did you really think I was going to say no?”

“Maybe you’d gotten used to sleeping alone. Or maybe because it’s a different body in bed with you all of a sudden…”

“Delaney and I never got to that stage. Not really. Only happened once. At my place, anyway.”

“You never stayed overnight? At hers?”

“A few times. I didn’t make it a habit.”

“She didn’t want you to? Or was it more a ‘you’ thing?”

“It was a total ‘me thing’. I didn’t want to be there. It didn’t feel right. I just wasn’t invested, I guess. Just seemed too…I don’t know…serious.”

“You didn’t think of things that way? Serious?”

“You ask a lot of questions.”

“I’m curious. About what you’ve been up to. Outside of the job. I knew that you had a girlfriend, but…”

“I wouldn’t even call her that. She called herself that, mind you. And it was alright, I guess. The time we did spend together. Sure as hell beat feeling lonely all the time.”

“But…”

“I told you this last night.”

“Humour me.”

“But I just couldn’t let myself go further than that. I just didn’t feel anything. For her. And yeah, I made her think I did and I’m pretty sure she was hoping she was going to get a lot more out of me…”

“Marriage, you mean? Kids?”

He nods.

“And you didn’t want all of that?”

“Not with her.”

“Did you ever tell her that? That you weren’t as into her as she was into you?”

“I dropped enough hints, believe me. She should have picked up on it a long time ago.”

“Some of us need to be hit over the head with the obvious. Or maybe she was just hoping you’d change your mind. That the longer she held in there, you’d soften up and realize she was ‘the one’.”

“The one?” He chuckles incredulously. “She is far from being ‘the one’. And if you dare ask me who ‘the one’ is, we’re going to have problems.”

“I already know your ex-wife was your one true love.”

He scowls. “Excuse me?”

“I’m kidding….I’m kidding….” Tousling his hair, she pecks the corner of his mouth. “I KNOW it’s me. You made that perfectly five years ago. I just thought maybe you’d changed your mind since then. That considering everything that happened…”

“Quiet,” he orders, and wraps both arms around her tiny, slender frame; effortlessly pulling her on top of him, hands locking together at the small of her back, “Please.”

“Right…right…no talking about THAT.” She lays her forearm across his chest, then places her chin on top of it. “You are going to call her right?”

“Why would I need to call my ex-wife?”

With a roll of her eyes, she sighs in exasperation. “Delaney.”

“Before we take off, I will call her. Tell her about you. And Millie.”

“That last part will be the biggest shock of all, I bet. How do you think she’ll take it? When you tell her about me? Our history? The fact that I’m suddenly back in your life and taking her place?”

“She took YOUR place.”

“If none of this had ever happened, if I never had Nik call you about this job, would you have just moved on? Just settled with what you have?”

“I don’t know. I honestly don’t know. Would you have really shown up? With Millie? You said that was the plan all along. Would you have really done it?”

“I told myself that before she turned five, I would tell you about her. Whether it was a phone call at first or if I did just show up on your doorstep.”

“You just stopped being scared that I’d turn you away or…?”

“About a year ago, Millie started asking about her dad. Not like she was before; when it was just once or twice a year. It became almost every day. She didn’t understand; why all her little friends at school had daddies and she didn’t. She wanted to know where he was. What he looked like. Why didn’t he want her?”

Tyler sighs heavily.

“I told her that he lived far away. And that he was a good man. A REALLY good man. And that he never knew about her. That I found out she was in my belly after things went bad. And that I couldn’t tell him. That I had to protect him AND her. But that IF I’d called him and told him, he would have been in her life. No questions asked.”

“And she was fine with all that?”

“At first. The questions would stop for a week or two. And then she’d come right back and ask the same things all over again. She’s so smart, Tyler. She is so very, very, VERY smart. She’d put two and two together; wanted to know what or who I had to protect you from.”

“What did you say?”

“I told her that before I met her dad, I’d run into some trouble with some really bad people. And that they came looking for me and told me that if I didn’t do what they wanted, they’d hurt him. Or worse. And I couldn’t let that happen. She understood; that I didn’t have a choice. It made her sad; that her mom and dad couldn’t be together. She’s so much like you; such a big heart in that body of hers. She feels so profoundly. So deeply.”

“I think she gets that from both of us.”

“I told her that I loved her dad very much.” Esme continues, her voice trembling with emotion as tears glisten in her eyes. “ I loved him with everything I was and everything I had. And that killed me to leave him. And I still loved him. I always would.”

“Don’t do that” he pleads, and releases his hold on her; hands gliding up her back and across her shoulders before cradling her cheeks in his palms. “Don’t cry. You know I’ve always hated that.”

“I thought we weren’t going to talk about this? Aren’t you the one who has been on my ass for bringing it up?”

“This time was totally my fault. I’m sorry. Come here.” He gathers her into his embrace, an arm wrapped tightly around her waist and a palm on the back of her head; drawing it down upon his shoulder once more. “I shouldn’t have brought it up.” He presses his lips to her temple. “I’m an asshole.”

“Some things are just harder to talk about. Some of it hurts way too much. Even now.”

“Which is why we don’t need to talk about it. Not right away.”

Sniffling, she nestles her face into the side of his neck once more and then reaches up to push a hand into his hair; allowing the longer top strands to repeatedly slip through her fingers. And for several minutes they lay in silence, listening to one another’s soft, rhythmic breathing while she continues to play with his dirty blond tresses and his knuckles repeatedly skim up and down the entire length of her spine.

Tyler’s voice cuts through the quiet; yanking her back from the edge of sleep. “I guess this isn’t a good time to ask about Alessio.”

“What’s there to ask? You know everything there is to know about him.”

“I was talking more about your little chat with him today. Must have gone alright; you weren’t in a shitty mood when Millie and I got back. What DID he want?”

“Just to vent. He’s pissed. Emasculated. Wants justice for his bruised ego and his shitty family.”

“Hope you didn’t give him any. Because fuck him. And fuck them too.”

“I just humoured him; listened to what he had to say. Which was just a lot of whiny bullshit. Part of me gets why he’s being a little piss baby; putting all of that work into a relationship and loving someone and finding out it was never real. But a bigger part of me says it was just a job. He was a mark. And I had to do whatever it took to get the information. And sometimes, people get hurt. It is what it is.”

“And that’s it? That’s all he wanted? Just to bitch?”

“Pretty much.” Pressing a kiss to his temple, she nuzzles his ear with the tip of her nose. “ He wanted to vent and I was the one he wanted to torture with it.”

“He didn’t threaten you or anything like that? ‘Cause if he did….”

“Nothing more than ‘you don’t know what you’ve done and who you’ve pissed off’ and ‘you’ll never get out of the city alive’. Nothing I haven’t heard before. Like, get some new content, Jesus.”

“Just trying to put the scare into ya.”

‘Well, it takes A LOT more than that.”

“And you’d tell me? If worse was said? If he brought up worse stuff about you? Or Millie? You’d…?”

“Tyler…” Raising her head from his shoulder, she silences him with a kiss. “...I would DEFINITELY tell you. He was just hurt and wanted to lash out. So I let him do it. Nothing more, nothing less. Now…” She rolls over onto her side; presenting him with her back and then reaching behind her from one of his hands. “...I’ve thoroughly had my brains fucked out and I’m exhausted. You know what that means?”

Heaving a dramatic sigh, he moves onto his side; an arm stretched across her pillow and a hand on her stomach. The latter he uses to draw her even tighter across him; eyes closing and his lips meeting the back of her head as she pushes her fingers through his. “Thought you might have grown out of this.”

“‘Never. And I’ve missed it. You’re the best snuggle partner. EVER.”

“Something else I’m going to have to pretend I never heard you say.”

“You can’t fool me, big, bad, mercenary man. I know you enjoy it just as much as I do.”

“Keep dreaming.”

“I know you better than you know yourself. Does it make you feel if I promise to never tell anyone you’re into this sort of thing?”

“No.”

“Your secret is safe with me,” she vows, and turns her face into his; accepting a long, slow kiss before once more settling her head upon her pillow. “I love you.”

“I love YOU. And don’t worry; we’re gonna be okay.”

“In our private life or when it comes to the job?”

Tightening his hold on her hand, he buries his face in her hair; his eyes closing as he inhales that familiar, welcoming scent. “Both.”

#Tyler and Esme series #Tyler Rake #Tyler Rake fan fiction #Tyler Rake fan fic #Extraction #Extraction 2 #Extraction fan fiction #Extraction fanfic #Tyler Rake fanfic #Chris Hemsworth #Tyler Rake x OFC #Esme Drummond #Esme Drummond-Rake

[chickensarentcheap]

Lost and Found -Chapter 13

Fandom: Extraction

Pairing: Tyler Rake and Esme Drummond (established OFC. Although you do not need to read the others to understand this one)

Warnings:  profanity

Tagging: @tragiclyhip @secretaryunpaid @youflickedtooharddamnit @munstysmind @thesirenrealm @asirensrage @residentdormouse @ninjasawakenedmystar @karimac @starryeyes2000 @timbradfordsboot @ocappreciationtag @occommunity @arrthurpendragon​

Link to Ao3: https://archiveofourown.org/works/43179357/chapters/120781585

​My tag list is OPEN. Just give me a shout if you’d like to added :)

******

“Which one is your favourite?” Millie inquires, as they sit side by side in a corner booth; tucked away from the breakfast rush that’s invaded The Continental’s dining area. “Pancakes, waffles, or French Toast?”

Tyler rifles through the plastic container of crayons open in front of him, selecting a blue and a red, then returning to the sheet of paper spread across the table. “Pancakes.”

“Me too! With lots of butter and syrup! But sometimes, I’ll put strawberry jam on them. Have you ever had that? It’s delish.”

“I haven’t. Guess it’s something I’ll have to try.”

“Maybe when we’re at your house, we can make pancakes together. Momma and I do that every Sunday morning. I get to stand on a chair and help. Mom ALWAYS lets me stir the batter. But the pancakes are never very good ‘cause she isn’t the best cook in the world and…”

“Hey!” Esme objects, and reaches across the table to playfully tug on one of her daughter’s pigtails. “I am sitting right here.”

“I’m sorry, mom. I love you. Bunches. But you can’t cook for shit.”

“I’ve somehow managed to keep you alive for four years, haven’t I? My food can’t be THAT bad.”

“I mean, it’s not horrible. But it’s not great either. I can STILL eat it. Just sometimes I have to pretend it tastes like something else. So I CAN get it down.”

“You’re a savage, you know that.”

“I woke up today and chose violence.”

“How about choosing NOT to throw me under the bus?”

“You always tell me that honesty is the best policy. And I was just being honest, so…” She sips at her chocolate milk and then addresses Tyler once more. “Momma is a really awesome baker though! She always makes my birthday cakes and sends cupcakes or cake pops to school with me so my class can have some goodies too! She bakes all kinds of awesome stuff. Brownies and cookies and pies. And these really yummy things made with mushed-up frosted flakes and chocolate and marshmallows. She even sells her stuff sometimes. At the market near our old place.”

“We used to live in Queens,” Esme explains, when Tyler looks to her for clarification. “We had an apartment there. A walk up in an old brownstone. There’s a little pop-up market every Saturday. I would spend the better part of a week baking and then Millie and I would go to the market on the weekend and make some money. We don’t do it as much anymore now that we live…LIVED…in Manhattan.”

“It was a lot of fun! I loved going to the market,” Millie says. “‘Cause when momma sold all her stuff, we’d walk around and she’d buy me all kinds of goodies that other people were selling. Treaties and stuff. This was this lady there that made dresses and hats and even dolls. She made me Posie for my third birthday. See…” Reaching, for the doll that rests between her and the wall, the four-year-old proudly places it on the tabletop. A Holly Hobby inspired creation; sandy blond hair made from yarn, a purple and pink paisley dress and matching hat, and pink vinyl shoes.. “...this is Posie. Momma had her made to look just like me.”

Tyler shows the doll his full attention; Millie anxiously awaiting his admiration and praise. “She’s beautiful. Just like you. Pink and purple are your favourite colours?”

“They’re my top two. But I like other colours, too. Blue and green and orange. And camo. I know that’s not a colour, but I really like it. Especially the one that makes you look like GI Joe.”

“You know who GI Joe is?”

“Yup. I have a whole box full of them! Momma got them at the secondhand place.” Her smile diminishes and her eyes darken; lips forming a pout. “But they didn’t get brought with us. When we had to leave the house. I wish we could go and get them. And some of my other stuff. Auntie Nik says we can’t; ‘cause the bad guys will find us there. But I really miss my stuff.”

“Maybe we can get Uncle Yaz to go and get some of your stuff,” Esme suggests. “He can take a couple of people with him to make sure he doesn’t get hurt. But we can’t bring EVERYTHING, baby. I wish we could.”

“And if we can’t bring it, we’ll get it for you,” Tyler adds. “When we get wherever we’re going. Maybe you can make a list? Of all the stuff you miss and you really want? Can you do that for me? Because I don’t know much about little girls and what they like.”

“I can do that. I like all kinds of stuff. Girl stuff, boy stuff. Momma says I can play with whatever toys I want and that it’s stupid that society puts labels on things like toys and clothes.”

“Your mum’s a very smart lady.”

“Momma always says that I’m the Millie I’m supposed to be. That the things I like and make me happy are part of me. Part of my personality. And no one should take those away from me.”

“No. They shouldn’t.”

“And she says to never let anyone dull my sparkle, right mom?”

“I don’t think anyone ever could, sweet pea. You’ve got way too much sparkle for anyone to take away. And if they tried and I caught them doing it…”

“You’d punch them in the face!”

“Well I might not resort to violence, but…”

“Alessio? That guy momma was gonna marry? He always complained about my sparkle. He didn’t call it THAT, but he always bitched and moaned about my clothes and how loud I am and how much I love to sing and dance. And you know what he did one day? He threw out my shoes! My favourite ones!”

“She’s been wearing those same Spiderman sandals since she was almost three,” Esme tells Tyler. “I always buy a couple pairs at a time; one a bit bigger for when she sizes up.”

“I LOVE these shoes!” Millie enthuses. “They’re comfy and they’re cute and they light up. Alessio didn’t like them. He said they were for boys! But momma told him it didn’t matter. That girls love superheroes too! And I can wear whatever I want! And you know what he did? The big, fat jerk! He waited until momma and I were asleep and he threw my shoes out! I couldn’t find them in the morning and I was really sad! I cried. A lot. They were my favourite. They fit just right.”

Esme reaches for one of the carafes in the middle of the table, pouring herself a second cup of tea. “And what happened next? When momma found out what Alessio did?”

“You went and bought me two new pairs. And told Alessio to never pull that kind of shit ever again!”

Tyler grins. Esme’s never been afraid to speak her mind; never threatened or intimidated no matter how big and bad her opponent is. He’d learned that the hard way; finding himself the target of her ire in Dhaka. When he’d had the nerve to ‘pull rank’ and ‘man-splain’. “Your mumma takes good care of you, huh?”

“ She doesn’t let anyone mess with me. And if they try? She gets really mad. And she doesn’t back down. She’s little, but I bet she could kick some serious ass!”

“Oh, I know she could. I’ve seen it. What she gets like when she’s angry. Or she’s trying to protect the people she loves. She’s a good mumma?”

“Best mumma ever! We do a lot of cool stuff together. We go for manis and pedis, we go to the library to look for books and play in the kids’ section. We go to museums and the movies. And you know what my favourite thing is? When we go to Central Park. We always take a picnic. And we sit by the fountain and go for a walk and go and feed the ducks. That’s the best part. I love the ducks. Do you have ducks in Australia?”

“We do. We even have some rare ones you can’t find anywhere else in the world.”

“Do you think maybe you could take me to see them? If we go to your house? I’d really like to see the ducks. And feed them. Do you think we could?”

“I think we could arrange something, yeah. And we can go to the zoo. Feed some joeys, see some koalas. Maybe hold one. I don’t think your mumma would mind. If we did stuff like that.”

“Can we, mumma? Please? Can we go to the zoo? I want to feed the joeys and hold a koala! Can we go there?”

“I definitely think we could do that.” Esme returns Tyler’s smile from across the table, and then briefly and inconspicuously lays her hand on top of his. Giving it a light, loving squeeze before she runs her nails along the length of his fingers.

She enjoys this quiet, unassuming closeness. An intimacy that’s pure and beautiful and reserved solely for each other. The glances exchanged, their feet touching under the table, their hands in close enough proximity to each other they often come in contact. It’s the honeymoon stage; that blissful, relaxed contentment that comes with getting to know someone and falling head over heels in love. But there’s an extra layer to their story; two people who had found acceptance and solace in one another during the most difficult and stressful of times and somehow survived the unimaginable. Dhaka had created a powerful bond between them; one that not even The High Table had managed to erase. Now they’ve started down a new path; friends and lovers who managed to find their way back to each other. And are now caught up in a whirlwind of rediscovery.

When the waitress departs after refilling drinks and taking orders, Millie and Tyler fall into a companionable silence; both concentrating on their ‘masterpieces’. It’s quite the juxtaposition compared to their surroundings and the original reason for his visit to New York; surrounded by men and women engrossed in the criminal world yet somehow managing to create this comfortable, happy space. This powerful and intimidating man with his scars and tattoos and his demons devoting his full attention to the little girl beside him; Millie occasionally glancing at him with a mixture of fascination and pure, unadulterated affection. A connection established since the moment they’d laid eyes on each other the day before; Tyler shocked and overwhelmed by the news that he was a father again and Millie awed and intrigued by the ‘giant’ that loomed over her. And she’s become incredibly attached to him in such a short period of time; putting all of her faith and trust into him and believing his promise to keep her and momma safe from the bad guys.

In return, he’s indulged every one of her whims since that initial hug only forty minutes ago. One of those enormous, strong hands swallowing her much tinier, fragile one when she reached for him; chattering away as she skipped happily alongside him as they headed for the elevator. Immediately obliging when she asked to be carried on his shoulders; giggling as she was lifted high into the air and then wrapping both arms around his neck and resting her chin on the top of his head. And he didn’t blink an eye when she abandoned her original seat at the booth in favour of climbing up next to him. Joining her in drawing and colouring and patiently answering all of her questions about Australia, allowing her to creep closer and closer to him until she eventually settled upon his thigh.

Millie is currently perched upon her knees with both arms wrapped around one of his biceps; quietly and intently watching the drawing that he works so diligently on. Those big hands with all their scars and calluses and misshapen knuckles and their ability to take a life creating something beautiful and ‘just for her’. It’s a side of him even Esme has never seen before; a loving and devoted father that willingly ignores societal norms in order to make his little one happy.

She had seen the potential inside of him during those five days in Dhaka; the seemingly fearless mercenary lowering his guard and showing her all his broken and aching parts. A grief-stricken and guilt laden man; willingly putting his own life on the line to save others not because of the money involved, but as repentance for the mistakes he’d made. There’d been a gentleness to him that she’d never experienced with another man. The way he’d cradle her face in his palms when he kissed her, that slow, adoring way his eyes would search every inch of her face. the tenderness in his fingertips when he’d smooth hair away from her cheeks and tuck loose strands behind her ears. There were layers to him that he’d never allowed another to explore; instead choosing to hide behind all of his rough and tattered edges and his strong, intimidating physique. But he’d granted her access to even the deepest and darkest of places; spilling secrets and regrets and allowing himself to be vulnerable. He hadn’t been a horrible husband or father by any stretch of the imagination. What he had been was damaged and traumatized; a lifetime of nightmarish circumstances that had made it impossible for him to deal with the reality of his son’s illness and impending death.

“Everyone deserves a second chance,” she had said, when he’d asked her why she was being so kind. So understanding. Why didn’t she see him as the monster that everyone painted him as? He killed people for a living, after all. He’d abandoned his child when he’d needed his father the most. How could she NOT look at him with pure and utter disgust?

*****

She watches him with that second chance now; nursing a cup of tea as she muses on how alike father and daughter truly are. The exact same colour and texture of hair, the long limbs and impossibly big hands and feet, those brilliant blue eyes that can grow so dark and stormy when frustration or anger settle in. And how, while dedicated to a task, those eyes narrow; intently focused with their lips slightly parted and their brows furrowed.

“You are soooo good!” Millie gushes, as she peers down at the paper. “I want to draw like that! I’m alright at it, but I’m not great or anything.”

“You’re only four. You have lots of time to get better at it.”

“You don’t look like the type that would be an artist.”

“No? What type do I look like?”

“The type that kicks serious, big time ass!”

“Well, I do THAT too. I do lots of things, actually. I have lots of different skills.” A grin tugging at the corners of his mouth, he shoots Esme a wink. “Just ask your mum.”

Eyes widening, Esme directs a kick to his shin.

“You know what I don’t understand?” Millie inquires, oblivious to the behaviour of the others at the table. “I don’t understand how you and momma met. How you became friends. If momma was living here and you were living in Australia, how’d you even meet?”

“Tyler and I were both working for Auntie Nik,” Esme explains, flashing the waitress an appreciative smile as she replaces empty carafes with full, fresh ones. “And she needed us to help her find someone.”

“Where’d you have to find them?”

“Somewhere far away. In a place called Bangladesh.”

“Where’s that?”

“Far, far away. On the other side of the world.”

“Was it a boy or girl?”

“A boy.” Tyler reaches for his coffee. “A teenager.”

“What was his name?”

“You ask a lot of questions.”

“You have to set the scene. I need to know details.”

“His name was Ovi.” Esme begins tidying the table; dropping crayons back into their carrying case; a retro metal Transformers lunch box Millie had spied in a second-hand store and just had to have.

“Why did he need to be found, momma? What happened to him?”

“Some bad people took him. And didn’t want to give him back unless they were paid a lot of money.”

“Why did the bad people take him?”

“Because his dad was a bad person, too. And they wanted to cause trouble with him.”

“But WHY? Just to be mean?”

“It’s a long story. And not one for little ears. They took Ovi because they wanted to hurt his dad. Who was just as bad of a person as they were. And when no one could find where Ovi was, Auntie Nik got called into things.”

“And she asked you and Tyler to help? Why you guys?”

“Because I find people. I go places and ask all kinds of questions and track them down. And then I give guys like Tyler that information and he goes and rescues them. Remember what I told you? About teamwork?”

‘Teamwork is dream work!”

“Exactly. And because these people were so bad, I needed to have someone keep an eye on me. So I wouldn’t get hurt.”

Completely invested and desperate for more information, Millie lifts up Tyler’s arm and slips under it. Climbing into his lap, she places a hand on his cheek and turns his face towards her. “You were momma’s bodyguard then too?”

“I was. And you know what? It was the hardest job I’ve ever had. Because your mum? She is stubborn as hell. She refused to listen to a word I said. I almost told her to find her own way home and left her there.”

“It wasn’t that I didn’t listen to you,” Esme argues. “I just thought you thought what you were saying was…how do I put this gently…stupid.”

“Excuse me?”

“That and I was in my ‘I won’t let any man tell me what to do’ stage,” she chides, and shoots him a playful wink. “You weren’t getting away with it. And it didn’t matter how hot you were.”

“Were? Past tense? WERE? First, you call me fat and now you’re saying I’m ugly?”

“Momma!” Millie gasps in horror. “You called Tyler fat?! That’s not nice. You’re not supposed to say things like that about people! I mean, I know he’s a little chubby, but…”

“Chubby?” He lightly pinches the four-year-old’s sides. “Whose side are you on anyway? Calling me chubby.”

“I’m on your side! I am! I really am! But…”

Millie squeals when he tickles her and then dissolves into hysterics; eyes closing and her entire body arching against him when his fingers dig lightly into her stomach. Her laughter travelling throughout the restaurant and drawing attention; a handful of disapproving frowns and whispers mixed in with amused eyes and broad smiles. The first child to ever need protection within The Continental’s walls, many of the staff and clientele remember her as an infant; watching that blue-eyed, chubby-cheeked little girl go from a newborn in her mother’s arms to a baby just weeks shy of her first birthday. When the dust had cleared and it was safe to finally leave, they’d moved to Queens; into a quaint and cozy two-bedroom apartment that Nik had furnished and paid the first year's rent on. After that, they’d had no reason to return to The Continental. Extra money earned doing intel work from home while Esme devoted everything she had to raising her daughter and making sure she was loved and provided for.

She’d spent years longing to be a mother, and Mark’s abuse and the eventual disintegration of her marriage had left her incredibly jaded and wary of ever trusting a man again. She had tried to convince herself that perhaps it was just the way things were meant to be; she wasn’t destined to have a child and instead would throw herself into her work and find contentment and fulfilment in the few friendships she managed to maintain. Yet there’d always been an emptiness and a longing she couldn’t quite explain; a need for a different life in a different place, surrounded by different people. And she’d been so close to breaking free. Setting a firm ‘six-month exit strategy’; giving it half a year before moving to Scotland and living with a long-lost cousin until she was able to get on her feet.

And then Nik had called, offering her the Dhaka job.

It had been too good to resist. A massive payday and an assurance from Nik that once it was over, she was officially ‘off the books’. There’d be no paper trail of her ever connected to Nik’s business; staying in touch as ‘friends only’ and perhaps offering the occasional consultation over the phone or through a video chat. She was looking forward to no longer being part of that world; using the money she was paid to travel the globe and create experiences and memories before settling down in Scotland. Perhaps once there she’d ‘find herself’; discover a new profession that would give her the same feeling of accomplishment. It had been illegal and dishonest work, but it HAD come with one major benefit; able to dole out karma and see those who deserved it meet their often bloody and brutal demise.

She never did get to travel.

Instead, her entire life changed the second she walked into the rundown shack in the middle of the Australian outback.

“I gotta chubby tummy too!” Millie announces, as she once more settles herself on Tyler’s lap and then pulls up the bottom of her t-shirt. “I also have an outtie! See!”

Grinning, Esme lifts her mug to her lips. “She’s very proud of her belly button. She had an umbilical hernia when she was a baby and had to have surgery for it. When she was still a wee little thing. That’s her souvenir from it.”

“All my friends are jealous! None of them have outties. I tell them that I’m special. Like a unicorn. ‘Cause I got something different.”

“You are,” Esme agrees, and reaches across the table to sweep Millie’s bangs from her forehead. “You are very, very, VERY special. More than you will ever know.”

She desperately wants to add: “And your daddy and I love you so very much” but manages to hold it back. It’s way too soon; only twenty-four hours since Tyler had discovered Millie’s existence and less than three days since the four-year-old’s entire world had been turned upside down. While full of smiles and giggles and hilarious chatter throughout the day, the trauma comes out to play at night. Plagued by uncharacteristic, aggressive meltdowns before bed and a newfound fear of the dark, reverting back to sucking her thumb as a form of comforting and self-soothing, and suffering from horrible nightmares that tear her from rest and cause her to vomit and wet the bed. She’s been through way too much for such a little thing; hearing and seeing things that not even adults should be subjected to. With no way of telling what another huge event would do to her, it’s best to keep Tyler’s true identity a secret for now. At least until the aftereffects of four nights ago begin to weaken.

It hurts to have to keep lying. For four years she’s kept Millie’s existence a secret out of pure selfishness and stupidity; afraid of rejection and unable to handle the mere thought…never mind the sight… of him being with anyone else. Choosing instead to remain hidden and off the grid; convincing herself that she’d only ruin his life if she was to suddenly resurface with a child in tow. Deep down she was aware of just how wrong she was; even hurt and angry, Tyler would never turn away his daughter. Even if they couldn’t get along, he would still want to be in Millie’s life. He’d want to be present and active and have a say and a helping hand in how she was raised. While Esme had told herself that staying silent was better for everyone involved, the truth was that it was only better for her. A way of protecting her heart.

She knows it stings. Whenever Millie calls him by his first name. She can see that little wince that captures his mouth and the pain that darkens his eyes. He’s already missed so much of her life and not being seen and known as ‘dad’ only adds insult to injury. But she also knows that no matter how pained he may be and how desperate he is for the truth to be known, he’d never do anything to hurt Millie or jeopardize her well-being.

Even if it means putting his on the back burner.

It’s a beautiful thing to witness. That big, strapping man already so attentive and adoring. Protective. All that faith she had and all that potential she saw five years ago now playing out before her eyes. The infinite amount of patience that he possesses; allowing Millie to ask a seemingly endless string of questions involving how he met her mother, what it’s like living in Australia, and if she’ll get eaten by a shark if they go to the beach. Always having the perfect answers for her; ones that light up her eyes and make her giggle and feel completely safe and content in his presence. Not blinking an eye when tiny fingers explore the calluses on his palms and his long busted up knuckles; staying away from any talk about the job and telling tales instead of sports injuries and incidents while rock climbing or hiking or surfing. And not appearing bothered when she inquires about his collection of scars; sparing her the more horrific details and only alluding to mishaps while with the military and while fighting ‘bad guys'.``

“Momma,” Millie leans across the table and lightly taps a hand against Esme’s cheek. “You’re doing it again.”

“Doing what, sweet pea?”

“Looking like you’re gonna cry. What’s wrong? Why tears? Why are you sad?”

“I’m not sad,” Esme promises, then leans forward and rests a hand on the back of the four-year-old’s head. Giving her a reassuring smile before pressing a kiss to her brow. “I’m happy. So very, very, VERY happy.”

****

They find Nik and Abuela waiting outside the suite door when they return; the latter anxiously pacing the thick, plush carpet. And it’s Nik that approaches them; her brow furrowed and lips set in a thin, stern line.

“We’ve got a problem.”

Tyler frowns. “I don’t like hearing that.”

“I don’t like saying it.”

“How big is this problem?”

“I’d say about six one, two hundred pounds. Alessio is here.”

“How the hell did he get in here? I thought this place was secure. I thought one of the rules was that no one could come and cause shit. Conduct business under their roof.”

“He says he’s not here to cause problems. Or do any business. He just wants to talk. With Esme.”

“Tell him to go away,” Millie pipes up from her perch upon Tyler’s shoulders. “Momma is off limits! Tell him that, Auntie Nik. Tell that asshole to f…”

“Amelia…” Esme gently scolds, then turns to Nik. “Talk about what? I think everything that happened last night spoke for itself. His family broke into my house and tried to kill me. And Millie. A little kid. If he thinks I have anything to say…”

“He’s a dickhead!” Millie declares. “Tell him momma has a new boyfriend. Who is really big and strong and will rip his head off and shove it up his…”

“Let me take her,” Abuela suggests, and moves towards Tyler. “We can go and hide in her room and watch a movie or we can make crafts. Maybe go downstairs for a swim. Or we can…”

“No!” The four-year-old protests, wrapping her legs tightly around Tyler’s neck and her arms around his head when the ‘nanny’ reaches for her. “I don’t want to go in there! I don’t want to see him!”

“He’s not going to leave,” Nik addresses Tyler and Esme. “He’s pretty adamant about that. And it’s not like we can force him. If we even put our hands on him, we’ll be leaving this place in body bags. And he knows that. He knows we can’t do a damn thing.”

Tyler sighs. “I mean, one bright spot is neither can he. He goes against the High Table rules and he knows he’s fucked. Not even his family and their connections can save him from them. But wanting to talk to Esme? About what?”

“About what went down the other night I guess. He feels that he’d owed an explanation. That he put eight months into the relationship and everything turned out to be a complete lie. He’s pissed. Hurt. I guess he has a lot to vent about.”

“Tell him to go to a fucking therapist. Esme doesn’t owe him a damn thing. His family tried to KILL HER. No amount of talking is going to change that.”

“What harm is there in hearing him out? If he won’t leave and we can’t make him leave…”

“I don’t wanna go in there,” Millie sobs. “I don’t want to see him. I don’t like him. He’s mean. Don’t make me go in there. Don’t…”

Gently prying her arms apart and untangling her legs from around his neck, Tyler reaches up and carefully lifts the little one off his shoulders. Briefly settling her on his hip before placing her on the ground, then kneeling in front of her and cradling her face in his palms.

“Don’t cry.” He uses his thumbs to clear away the tears that sparkle upon her cheeks. “There’s no reason to cry. Everything is fine. You’re okay.”

“I don’t like him.”

“I know. I know he was mean to your mum. I bet he was mean to you sometimes too, yeah?”

“He threw out my shoes.”

“And that’s bad enough, right? There were other times, too? When he was mean to you?”

Millie nods. “He didn’t like me. He said I was too loud. That I talk too much. And make too much noise. That little kids need to be seen and not heard. He wanted momma to send me to a special school. Where kids stay over instead of coming home. But momma told him to go and ‘get fucked’. She always told him where to go. When he said mean things to me. She doesn’t let anyone hurt me.”

“That’s because she’s an awesome mumma. But he can’t hurt you. Not here. Not with me and Auntie Nik and Abuela here. You’ve got a lot of people that love you. Who will do anything to keep you safe. You trust me?”

“I trust you.”

“I need you to do me a favour. I need you to go inside with Abuela. I want you to do everything she says, okay? You go in your room and you watch a movie or you make some crafts or find something else to keep you busy. Just for a little while.”

“Just for a bit?”

“Just until I finish talking with your mum and Auntie Nik. Then I’ll come and get you.”

“Promise?”

“Promise. Maybe you can even do me up one of those bracelets. So I can add it to my collection. Maybe even make yourself and mumma some too. We can all match.”

“I’ll do yours in boy colours. So you don’t get teased. But you do promise, right? That you’ll come and get me?”

“As soon as I’m done out there. It won’t be long. I just need a chance to talk some things over.”

“What if he hurts momma?”

“No one is going to hurt your mum. I won’t let that happen. So can you do that for me? Go inside with Abuela? Just for a little bit. And then we’ll go and do something. Just the two of us. Is that alright? If we do something together? Are you okay with that?”

“Just us?”

“Just us. If you’re comfortable with just me. If you’d rather mumma tag along…”

“No. I’m okay with it. Just us. Maybe we can go swimming? They have a pool here. And it’s nice and warm. It’s not as fun as the beach, but…”

“You put your bathing suit on when you’re inside and I’ll take you down to the pool. Maybe we can go and get ice cream after. If my chubby tummy can handle it.”

She finally manages a smile, then sniffles noisily and wipes her nose on her sleeve. “Mint chocolate chip?”

“Of course. It’s our favourite. There’s no other kind. So you can do all of that for me? I know how strong you are. How brave. You get that from your mum. She is the strongest person I have EVER known. And you come from her, so…”

“Even stronger than you?”

“MUCH stronger than me. Go inside, okay?” Giving her a reassuring hug, he drops a kiss on the top of her head and then reaches for not only the doll and koala bear Esme holds, but the backpack slung over her shoulder. “Take your stuff with you. So you got your beads and what not if you want to make those bracelets.”

Helping Millie shrug into the backpack, he tucks the doll under one arm, the bear under the other, running a hand over the top of her head before Abuela lays a hand on Millie’s shoulder and gently leads her towards the door. Hesitating on the threshold, Millie glances over her shoulder at Tyler. Tears sparkling in her eyes, as her chin trembles and she tries to remain as stoic as possible.

“You promise, Tyler? You promise you’ll come and get me?”

He struggles with his own emotion; a potent cocktail of rage and heartache to know that someone has mistreated her. It’s only been twenty-four years but the love and the pride he feels towards her is all-consuming; this beautiful, healthy little girl that’s a mixture of himself and the love of his life. It’s surreal; the realization that he is indeed a father again. And while it isn’t the time to jump fully into that role, he can give Millie what she so desperately needs at the present; a sense of safety and security and someone she can trust to protect her. At all costs.

“I promise. I’ll be there in a little bit, okay?”

Nodding, she gives a wiggle of her fingertips in a departing wave and then allows Abuela to lead her into the suite.

****

They stand in silence; waiting to hear if anything goes wrong within the hotel room. And it’s Tyler that speaks first; attempting to push away the anger and animosity he feels towards his old friend and colleague. It’s hard to be civil in the face of Nik’s betrayal; the painful truth that she’d kept Esme’s whereabouts and Millie’s existence a secret. But he reminds himself that it isn’t the time for personal quarrels; Alessio’s appearance bringing the job back to the forefront.

“How’d he get in here Nik? You told me this place was safe. That no one could get to them here.”

“Winston let him.”

“Of fucking course he did.”

“But why would he do that?” Esme inquires. “He’s the one that gave us somewhere to hide out. Why would he just let Alessio walk in, never mind get THIS close?”

“I think it’s personal,” Nik replies. “I know there’s no love lost between him and Tyler and…”

Tyler scowls. “He told you?”

“Told her what?” Esme’s eyes narrow in confusion as she glances back and forth between the two. “What did Winston tell her? What’s going on? What…?”

“Winston and I had a little disagreement. “About…?”

“About what we think is best for you. And Millie. We weren’t exactly on the same page.”

“And what DO you guys think is best for us?”

“I told him that I thought bringing both of you to Australia, getting settled, and starting a life there would be in your best interests. He disagreed. Thought it was better that I brought you back here. To New York City. So he could keep an eye on you.”

“Keep an eye on me? I don’t need him…of all people…keeping an eye on me. Once I’m out of here I am NOT coming back. Ever. If I never see this place again, it’ll be too soon.”

“He seems to have it in his head that you can’t survive without him,” Nik explains. “That you’re better off here…under his roof…than anywhere else.”

“I hope you told him to go and get fucked. Because that’s the furthest thing from the truth. I’m grateful for everything he’s done, but this is the last place I want to be. Kept like some prisoner. That’s not much of a life. For either of us. But especially for Millie.”

“I think he has some weird-ass obsession with you,” Tyler adds. “That goes way beyond the father-daughter bullshit that he spews all the time.”

Nik smirks. “You THINK? It’s not obvious?”

“That is just…” Esme’s nose wrinkles in disgust. “....ewwww. I’ve never gotten that kind of vibe from him. He’s always respected my boundaries and never tried anything. I would have kicked him in the nuts if he did. Did he actually admit to all of this? That he’s got some creepy hopeful sugar daddy going on?”

“Not in so many words, but…”

Nik pipes up. “When he offers to double someone’s payout so they’ll bring you back here and walk out of your life, it’s safe to say there’s nothing normal about how he feels about you.”

“Wait…what? He did WHAT?”

Tyler glares at his old friend. “You did NOT need to tell her that.”

“I assumed she knew. That you already would have told her.”

“I didn’t tell her because I didn’t think she needed to know that part. What good does it do? She’s got enough going on. Add Winston and his bullshit to the list…”

“He offered you money?” Esme struggles to digest the information. “ To bring us back to The Continental and leave us here? Is that what went on? Is that why he showed up here? THAT’S what he wanted to talk to you about? He wanted to pay you off?”

Nik sighs, then addresses Tyler. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to cause issues. I thought she knew. That you would have told her.”

“What did you say to him?” Esme inquiries, as she moves closer to him; suddenly needing the comfort that his much stronger, heavier body can provide her with. He’s always been her protector; ready, willing, and able to do whatever he had to do in order to keep her safe.

“What do you think I said? I told him to take his money and shove it up his ass. There’s no ‘deal’ to be made. You and Millie? You two aren’t up for negotiation. And I let him know that. That I’m getting you two the fuck out of here and I’m not bringing you back. I don’t care how much money he throws at me.”

“This is just…” Esme pushes both hands through her hair. “...I honestly can’t believe he’d do that. I already told him; once we’re out of here, we aren’t coming back. We’re going on with our lives. I told him that we already talked about all of this. That Millie and I were going to make a life in Australia. With YOU. Whether it’s under the same roof or starting out in separate places. I made it very clear that it wasn’t up for debate.”

“He seems to think it is. He’s got it in his head that I’m some piece of shit that would abandon you and Millie. That I’m some enormous fuck up that’s going to ruin your lives.”

“That is the furthest thing from the truth. You’re none of those things. And I told him all of that. I told him that we were going to be a family. Or at least try being one. That we were going to work through our shit. Get past everything that’s happened. Have a good life together. Give Millie a mom AND a dad. I made it pretty clear that it was my life and my decision.”

“He obviously didn’t listen. Because he’s pretty convinced you’re better off here. That this is the only place you can have a good life.”

“He’s full of shit. And if he thinks I’d EVER think of him in THAT way…”

“I know I opened up a huge can of worms and you two have a lot to talk about,” Nik speaks up. “ But I think we need to refocus. Get back to what’s going on right now. Because whether we like it or not, Alessio IS here. He’s got no intention of leaving until he gets what he wants. And seeing as we can’t force him to leave and we can’t toss him out…”

“What choice do I really have? If he’s not going to leave…”

“I don’t want you alone with him,” Tyler says. “I don’t trust him. If he and Winston are that buddy-buddy, you can’t tell me that he wouldn’t be allowed to break High Table rules. That Winston wouldn’t look the other way.”

“I’ll stay,” Nik offers. “I’ll hang out in another room and keep my ears open. If I even hear things starting to go south…”

“He’s not going to hurt me,” Esme assures them. “Yeah, he’s an asshole in many ways, but putting his hands on women? That’s not his style.”

“His family tried to kill you,” Tyler reminds her. “And Millie. He’s got people just lying in wait outside. They will put a bullet in you the second you step out there.”

“Alessio isn’t like them. He’s nowhere near as committed to that life. And he’s not as loyal to the family as they think he is. He spent the last eight months spilling a lot of their secrets. He wasn’t shy about all the twisted and gory details.”

“Doesn’t mean he won’t go to bat for them now. You’ve disgraced his family. Made him look like a complete fool. These people don’t take betrayal lightly.”

“You heard what Nik said, Tyler. He’s not going to leave. And as much as I know you want to just beat the living shit out of him…”

“I can’t just leave you with him. And I already told Millie…”

“I’ll be fine. Nik will be close by. She’s not going to let him do anything. I know you don’t exactly trust her right now, but I DO. She’s kept us safe and sound all these years. She can do it for another half an hour.”

“I know you’re pretty pissed at me right now, Tyler…” Nik begins.

‘That’s an understatement.”

“...but we need to shelve the personal shit. We can deal with all of that later. I know you have a lot to say to me and believe me, I’m going to let you have a chance to say it. But NOT right now. We have much bigger fish to fry. Not to mention less than forty-eight hours to figure out how the hell we’re all getting out of this city in one piece. So we can focus on what we’re really here for? The job?”

Sighing heavily, he briefly closes as he pinches the bridge of his nose between thumb and forefinger. “I need to talk to Esme.”

“Tyler, I…”

“Nik, there is a lot going on here. And believe it or not, not all of it involves you. I need to talk to her. ALONE.”

She accepts defeat; holding her hands up in surrender and then heads for the door and disappears inside. Tyler waits. Giving Nik a chance to clear the foyer and head further into the suite before he turns to Esme; watching as she chews on her bottom lip and nervously wrings her hands together.

“What do you want to do?”

“There’s not many options. Alessio won’t leave unless he gets what he wants. And as much as I’d love to see you hand him in his ass…”

“Do you want to try and get out of here? Just grab Millie and leave?”

“You know we won’t get far. They’ve got a small army out there. You against all of them? I’ve always had faith in your skills and the things you’re able to do, but…”

“Even I’m not dumb enough to think I stand a chance against all that firepower. There’s gotta be a way though. Of getting you and Millie out of here. With no one else knowing. There has to be some way they get people around without being noticed.”

“I mean there’s an underground garage and there’s passageways, but Winston monitors those. There’s security EVERYWHERE. There’s no way we’d be able to even get to them without being seen. And if he’s messed up enough to offer you money to leave Millie and me behind, what’s stopping him from letting the enemy know what we’re up to?”

“He wants me out of the picture. He made that clear. Many times.”

“And he can make it happen. He’s got the power of The High Table backing him up. And we’ve already dealt with them once before. Look what they did five years ago. Tyler, these are powerful people. They make Alessio’s family look tame. And if we don’t play ball with them, the DiTomassos are going to be the least of our worries.”

Leaning back against the wall, he runs his hands over his weary, unshaven face. “I don’t like any of this.”

“Neither do I. And I’m starting to regret dragging you into this. There you were, just living a nice, quiet life and…”

“I was living a miserable life. Just like I have been for the last five years.”

“Which was my fault, too. Everything I touch, I totally fuck up. Your life, Millie’s life.”

“You haven’t fucked anything up. I mean, just look at her Esme. Look at how amazing your daughter…OUR daughter…is. She’s beautiful and she’s insanely smart and she loves the world and everyone in it. Her life is far from fucked up. Look at how much she loves you. And trusts you. You did that all on your own. Brought her up this far. And she’s incredible.”

“But I didn’t HAVE to do it alone. I had a choice. Once all the smoke cleared and we didn’t have to hide anymore. I could have made things so much easier on myself. And Millie. But I didn’t do it because I was a stupid, selfish little girl that couldn’t handle the thought of rejection. Or of seeing you with someone else.”

“That was what it was? The real reason? Why you didn’t get a hold of me?”

“I couldn’t handle it. The thought of you being with someone else, let alone SEEING it. And I realize how ridiculous that sounds now. You had every right to go on with your life; to meet someone else and fall in love and get married and have a family. But every time I thought about it, it made me sick to my stomach. I couldn’t have you and I didn’t want anyone else to either. How pathetic is that?”

“Wanna hear pathetic? Every time I think of you with that asshole in there, I want to put my fist through a wall. Or throw that fucker out a window.”

“I was so scared. I was worried that if I called you or just showed up on your doorstep, you’d turn us away. That you’d still be so angry that you wouldn’t want anything to do with Millie.”

“That never would have happened. Not in a million years. I wouldn’t have turned her away. Or you.”

“The logical and rational side of me knew I was wrong. That you’d never do something like that. But when does fear make you think logically or rationally?”

“I wanted you. I never stopped wanting you. And if you’d just shown up on my doorstep, I would not have turned you away. Not when I spent so long missing you and wanting you back.”

“And now I’m back and look what’s happened. Look at the mess I dragged you into! This is NOT what I wanted. All those times I thought about just bringing Millie to you and begging you for another chance? None of them included THIS. If I’d just left you alone…”

“Esme…” Offering her a hand, he pulls her into him when she accepts; their fingers entwined and their joined hands resting on the small of her back. Her body resting against his as she stands between his legs; hands settling on his hips as he cradles the back of her head in his palm and presses a kiss to her brow. “...I don’t regret taking this job. And I won’t regret it no matter how messy it gets.”

“You had a normal life. You were doing normal things. And I came along and screwed that all up. Just like I screwed everything up five years ago.”

“Stop saying that. It’s not true. And you know it’s not. We had a good thing. A REALLY good thing. And yeah, it went bad and it sucked and the last five years have been pure and utter shit.”

“Because of me.”

“You didn’t know The High Table was going to come for you. There was no way you could have known that. And you were right; with what you said the other night. I wouldn’t have survived that. Challenging them. No way.”

“I had to protect you. I HAD to. I never would have forgiven myself if something happened to you.”

“And I’m starting to understand that. I’m not quite there yet, but I’ll get there. It’s hard. Normally I’m the one who does the protecting. Kinda hard to accept when I’m on the other side of the fence.”

A smile tugs at the corners of her mouth. “You and your ego. And your whole knight in shining armour thing you’ve got going on.”

“I thought it was ‘knight in slightly tarnished armour’?”

“You remember that?”

“I remember everything when it comes to you.”

“Even how you used to always leave the toilet seat up and your dirty socks in front of the hamper instead of in it? And how you always used to put your cold feet against the back of my legs in bed?”

“I don’t seem to remember any of THOSE things.”

“Typical.” She gives a small laugh. “You had a selective memory then, too.”

Pressing their joined hands against the small of her back, he draws her even tighter against him and kisses her; long and soft and sweet. “I don’t regret taking this job. And I’m not going to regret it; no matter how ugly it might get. At the risk of sounding sappy and embarrassing myself, it brought us back together. And it brought me Millie. Which is the most amazing thing that could have ever happened.”

“I never meant to hurt you, Tyler. It was never intentional. It was all me. It was never you. I was just worried and scared and…”

He pecks her lips to silence her. “I know. So what do you want to do?” Releasing her hand from behind her back, he runs both palms across her shoulders and down her arms. “About right now? And this dick head fiance of yours?”

“Like Nik said; he’s not going to go away. It’s better if I just suck it up and talk to him. See what he has to say.”

“I’m sure he’s pretty pissed. Being led on for eight months. You’ll be okay? Being alone with him?”

“He won’t hurt me. He knows better. He knows I’ll fucking drop him.”

Tyler grins. “That’s my girl.”

“I’ll be fine. Nik will be close by. I trust her. With my life. With Millie’s life, even. And I know you’ve got a raging hate-on for her right now, but maybe you could shove that aside? Until we’re at least out of New York?”

“I can do that.”

“If you don’t trust Nik, trust me. I know what I’m doing. I know what Alessio is like. He’s not a threat. He’s an asshole, but definitely not a threat.”

“Good. Because I really don’t want to be throwing anyone out the window. Not today, anyway.”

Smiling, she stands on her tiptoes and presses a kiss to the tip of his chin. “You’d do that for me?”

“Are you kidding me?” Gentle fingertips explore the bruises and cuts on her face, then loop pieces of hair behind her ears. “ I’d set the world on fire for you.”

#Tyler Rake #Tyler and Esme series #Extraction #Extraction 2 #Tyler Rake fan fiction #Extraction fan fiction #Tyler Rake fan fic #Extraction fan fic #Chris Hemsworth #Tyler Rake x OFC #Esme Rake #Esme Drummond #Esme Drummond-Rake

[chickensarentcheap]

Lost and Found- Chapter 10

Fandom: Extraction

Pairing: Tyler Rake and Esme Drummond (established OFC. Although you do not need to read the others to understand this one)

Warnings:  angst, profanity, some brief smut

Tagging:  @tragiclyhip @secretaryunpaid @youflickedtooharddamnit @residentdormouse @asirensrage @munstysmind @muchadoaboutcj @starryeyes2000​ @ninjasawakenedmystar​ @karimac @arrthurpendragon @ocappreciationtag @occommunity @themaradaniels​

My tag list is OPEN. Just give me a shout if you’d like to added :)

Link to Ao3: ​https://archiveofourown.org/works/43179357/chapters/118354309

*******

He answers the door in just a pair of jeans; worn dangerously low on his hips with both his belt and top button still undone. Droplets of water glistening upon bare, tanned skin as he continues to vigorously towel dry his hair. And for what seems like an eternity she’s dumbstruck; rendered speechless as she hungrily eyes the work of art that stands before her. It’s a reaction that’s both unexpected and embarrassing; never anticipating his lack of apparel or the way her body, heart, and mind respond to it. After all, she’d seen him wearing far less many times; nearly a year spent sharing the same bed and feeding and nurturing every one of their carnal needs and desires. But it feels as if it’s the first time seeing him this way; as if Dhaka and those five days had never existed nor had they ever shared a life together. He’s noticeably thicker now; a mixture of more time spent in the gym, a physically gruelling profession, and the extra weight that’s taken up residence around his waist. He’s aged like a fine wine. In possession of a body and mind that have not only been stretched to their absolute limits, but somehow managed to come back better than ever.

She feels the ferocious blush that creeps into her cheeks; poker hot and rapidly spreading to the bottom of her chin and the tips of her ears. And she can’t help herself; top teeth dragging over her bottom lip as her eyes make a long, slow pass over the length of his half-naked frame. Her stomach clenches and her throat feels impossibly dry; accompanied by the pounding of her heart and the almost agonizing burn between her legs. It’s shocking; another human being having that kind of power and control. Able to turn you into a desperate, needy mess without having to put any effort into it. And it’s always been that way with Tyler; a shared physical and sexual attraction that is so immediate and intense and all-consuming.. The first lover who’d ever had that kind of effect on her; capable of turning her into a quivering and begging mess with nothing more than the sound of his voice and a heated, hungry glance.

Yet he’d always been oblivious about the kind of power he actually held; never any boasting or the slightest hint of conceit even if he DID realize what the simplest of touches or the sweetest, most innocent of kisses could do to her. A phenomenally attractive man that didn’t seem to realize it; never one to fret over his general appearance or his wardrobe. Down to earth and shockingly humble; seemingly unaware of his piercing blue eyes and his strong jaw and the way those longer strands of hair perfectly fell across his forehead. Confident in his looks, yet never cocky; not caring what other people thought of his apparel or the tattoos that decorated his skin but sometimes lamenting about the variety of scars that he’d collected over the years.

There’s a telltale throbbing between her legs and beads of sweat that gather at her temples and the nape of her neck. It’s been so long since she’d been this close to him; able to see the droplets of water on his skin and smell the body wash and shampoo that he had used. And then there are the scars he’s gained over the course of five years; souvenirs of a dangerous and unpredictable life. A mixture of long and jagged lines caused by self-administered care and smooth, circular marks left behind by bullet wounds.

“I’m sorry, I didn’t…” She noisily clears her throat and quickly glances away; hoping and praying he doesn’t pick up on her discomfort. “...I wasn’t expecting…this…you…like this….I…”

A tinge of pink takes up residence in his cheeks. She remains the only person on earth that can get that kind of reaction out of him; able to transform the big, bad mercenary into a blushing, awkward mess. And it’s always been so refreshing; knowing the pain and havoc he’s capable of causing yet bearing witness to that softer and more human side. “I wasn’t expecting you for another half an hour.”

“I didn’t think I was THAT early. Millie settled quicker than I thought she would, so I thought I’d just show up. I didn’t think I’d be interrupting anything.” Her embarrassment increases and she bites down on her bottom lip in an attempt to halt the nervous rambling. “ I’m not, am I? Interrupting anything?”

“What would you be interrupting?”

“Well…I mean… you could have company. New York City is a big place. You’re a good-looking guy and there’s tons of beautiful and available women out there. Maybe you found one. You could have been busy doing things when I showed up. You know, things that you need to take a shower after. Oh God…” She lowers her voice and peers past him into the room. “That’s not it, is it? I didn’t interrupt you and…whoever.”

“There’s no one here but me. I’m not in town for that kind of thing. Besides, I’ve learned my lesson; when it comes to mixing business with pleasure.”

She visibly winces. “I guess I deserved that. “

“I didn’t mean it that way. I wasn’t talking about you. I was talking about…”

“I can come back. If you need some time to get yourself together. I shouldn’t have shown up early. I’m sorry; I should have texted or…”

The thought of watching her walk away -albeit temporarily- sets something off inside of him, and he steps into the doorway; his much larger, stronger frame effectively barring her from leaving. “You don’t have to go. Just give me a few; so I can dry off and put some clothes on.”

“Wouldn’t you be more comfortable doing all that without me here? I can just go downstairs and get something to drink. Or I can just wait in the hall and you can just let me know when it’s okay to come in. I AM early and you don’t really owe me an explanation or…”

“Don’t go.”

“If you need a little time to get yourself together…”

“Don’t go,” he forcibly repeats, then manages a small smile while adding, “Please.”

“Are you sure? Because if you’re just saying that because you don’t want to hurt my feelings…”

“I WANT you to stay. There’s no reason for you to leave. It’s not like you haven’t seen it all before.”

She manages a small smile. “I hate this. So much. This….awkwardness. It was never like this. Between us. And it sucks. I hate it and I hate that I’m the reason things are the way they are.”

“A lot’s happened. I’d be surprised if things weren’t a little weird.”

“I never wanted any of this. I never meant to ruin things. To hurt you. I never…”

Draping the towel around his neck, he reaches out; laying a hand on the small of her back and gently pulling her closer. “Let’s just go inside. We can talk in there. We don’t need to stand out there and get into it. Not everyone needs to know our business.”

Nodding in agreement, she allows herself to be escorted into the open-concept suite; immediately missing the warmth and weight of his hand upon her body when he steps away. It’s so damn hard; to be desperately in love with someone who most likely despises you. Possessing such powerful and overwhelming feelings yet knowing you most likely ruined any chance of reconciliation; keeping Millie’s existence a secret was surely the final in the coffin. She had wounded him deeply. He had trusted her with every ounce of his being and transformed his entire life in order for them to have a future together and she’d turned around and betrayed him in the worst possible way. Seeing the undeniable hurt and anger and disgust on his face the moment Millie had left the room. He had known the moment he laid eyes on her that the little girl was his; sharing the same vivid blue eyes and the colour and texture of hair and the long and lanky frame. Despite his fears of being a dad again, he’d been more than willing to welcome a child into the world; determined to do everything right the second time around. And he’d been robbed of the chance.

She noisily clears her throat and diverts her eyes as he rummages through his lone piece of luggage for a clean shirt; the simple movements causing the muscles in his arms and back to bulge and ripple. And she wanders towards the table by the balcony door; focusing her attention on the open laptop, a half empty glass of water, and a bottle of prescription medication. Chewing pensively on her bottom lip, she picks up the latter and briefly inspects the information on the label; relieved to discover they aren’t painkillers, nor is there any form of alcohol in sight.

“Antibiotics.” His voice makes her jump as he suddenly appears beside her; plucking the meds out of her hand and tossing them in the direction of the rucksack that sits open in the middle of the bed. “Caught a hell of a cold on the last job. Settled in my chest. Just finally getting over it.”

“We used to worry about that. Every time you got sick, it always went right to your lungs. And with your left one being the way it is…”

“I figure if a sixteen-year-old with a hell of a lucky shot can’t kill me, a chest infection sure as hell won’t.”

“What about other things? Have you been taking anything else or…?”

“You mean am I back to being a pill junkie again? That’s what you’re asking, yeah? That’s what you want to know? If I’m back on the oxy? Or worse?”

“I never…”

“I’m clean. Other than over-the-counter pain shit. I’ve been clean for almost five years now. Since Dhaka.”

“Tyler, I didn’t mean to…”

“You didn’t break me that badly, Esme. Not enough to make me go back to that. To being ‘that guy’. Not even you have that kind of power.” It’s a lie of course; he’d come close many times to turning back to the booze and the pain meds in order to numb both physical and mental agony. But he’d somehow managed to stay clean and vowed to stay that way. Convincing himself that as long as there was a chance that she may wander back into his life, she deserved someone who was on the right track. Not a carbon copy of the mess he’d been when they first met.

“I didn’t come here for this. To fight with you. And I wasn’t suggesting that you were using. In the same way I wasn’t accusing you of anything or….”

Leaning back against the table, he crosses his arms over his chest. “Who’s with Millie?”

“Abeula and Nik. And there’s a couple of guys that stay on the floor and split up guard duty. She’s in good hands. She’s safe.”

Scoffing, he reaches behind him for the glass of water; lips poised at the rim. “Forgive me if I don’t have a lot of confidence in Nik right now.”

“She only did what I asked her to do. I asked her not to tell you where I was. Or why I left. I figured I’d get a chance to do all of that myself. But things were way more complicated and messy and dangerous than even I expected them to be. And then weeks turned into months into…”

“Five years. Five…fucking…years.”

“I never meant for it to get to this. For things to last as long as they did. And there’s really no excuse; I had a lot of chances to make things right. There were a lot of times I could have contacted you. Where I could have called and explained why I did what I did. Where I could have even come to see you. Talked face to face. Brought Millie to meet you and…”

“But you didn’t. All the chances but you never bothered. You couldn’t even let me know that you were alive. That would have been enough; knowing that you were okay. Even if you hadn’t wanted to come home. Work things out. I would have been able to deal with that. But you couldn’t even pick up a fucking phone and let me know you were alright.”

“It wasn’t that easy. Not at first. It wasn’t as simple as texting or leaving you a voicemail. Things were ugly for a long time and I couldn’t take the chance that you’d get hurt. Or worse. I didn’t want that on your doorstep. I didn’t want to bring that to you. You deserved better than that.”

“I deserved better than what you did. You just left. While I was gone. You didn’t even wait until I got back from Broome. I got home and you were gone. No explanation, no apology, no telling me that I’d fucked up and…”

“It wasn’t you. You didn’t ‘fuck up’. It had nothing to do with you. You didn’t do anything wrong.”

“I got home and you were gone and I thought something happened to you. That someone had gotten a hold of you. You didn’t stop to think about that? That that’s what I’d think?”

“I thought when you saw the note…”

“That was a note? That was fucking bullshit is what it was. “I’m sorry”? What the fuck was that?”

“I didn’t know what else to say.” It sounds lame. Eve to her own ears. “ I couldn’t tell you; the reason that I left. I didn’t want you getting involved.”

“We bought a house together. We were talking about getting married. About starting a family. I was already pretty fucking involved, don’t you think?”

“It wasn’t your fight to fight, Tyler.”

“That’s horseshit and you know it. We made a life together, Esme. We were planning a future. It was up to me to protect you. To take care of you.”

“It wasn’t a one-way street. Our life together. I protected you and took care of you just as much as you did me. It wasn’t all you, Tyler. It wasn’t just you putting the work in. I stayed in Australia. I gave up my old life so I could have one with you. It wasn’t just you that made sacrifices and changed. We BOTH did.”

“Which means that whatever was going on? It was up to both of us to fix it. To fight to make things work.”

“I did what I did to protect you. I knew that if I stayed and they came for me, you would have done whatever you could to protect me. To keep me safe. That you would have back and…”

“You’re right. I would have done anything. For you. Just like I did in Dhaka. Everything we’d been through. Esme. From the very beginning. And you still couldn’t trust me? To keep you safe?”

“It had nothing to do with trusting you,” she argues. “I have ALWAYS trusted you. Which is why you’re even in New York City. I have never once doubted you. Or the things you could do. I know how strong you are. I know the skills you have. But it had only been eight months since Dhaka and you still weren’t a hundred percent and I couldn’t put you at risk. I just couldn’t. I didn’t want you getting hurt. Or worse.”

“Who the fuck was after you? The Russian Mob? The IRA? There’s not a lot of people I can’t handle. If I could somehow survive Mahajan and Asif and their bullshit…”

“You wouldn’t have survived this. Not these people. You wouldn’t have stood a chance. They were vast and they were powerful and they would have brought all kinds of hell down on us. On YOU. And I couldn’t do that. I couldn’t put a target on your back. Not when it came to them. I’m sorry, Tyler. But I did what I had to do. To keep you safe.”

“And it took five years? For things to settle down? Or did you just decide after a little while that I’d never been worth anything to you in the first place. I never meant a thing, did I. Not really. If I had, we wouldn’t be having this conversation right now. We would have had it a long time ago.”

“None of that is true. You meant everything to me. Our life together? That meant everything. I didn’t do what I did to hurt you. Or to punish you. You didn’t do anything wrong. I did it to protect you. To keep you safe. And I’m sorry; that I let it get this out of hand. That I never contacted you when things settled down. I wanted to, believe me. I wanted things to go back to normal. I wanted nothing more than to be with you. And I…”

“But you never did. You never did get a hold of me. Not even when you had a baby. MY baby. She is, yeah? Mine?” He regrets that years of simmering hurt and anger have led to even asking the question; the hurt that stiffens her body and darkens her face and brings tears to her eyes. It’s the last thing he wanted even in the midst of his own suffering. But it’s always been his weakness; hot-headed from an extremely early age and never able to stop himself from lashing out. And hurting those that he loved the most.

“You really have to ask that? You’ve seen her. She looks just like you.”

“How do I know you weren’t fucking some other Aussie that happened to look like me? Taking off might not have been the only thing you were doing that weekend.”

“You know what? I’m just going to leave things here. For now. Because obviously, you’re not in the mood to listen to a thing I have to say. And I get it; you’re hurt and you’re angry and you’re lashing out. You’ve always been like this. You get defensive and you snap and you say things you don’t really mean.”

“I have every right to be pissed. And hurt. I think I earned it. Deserve it.”

“You do. And I’m not trying to downplay how you feel. I’m owning my shit; acknowledging what I did and feeling horrible for it. But you’re not even attempting to listen to me, let alone understand. And for you to stoop that low and bring Millie into this…”

“I’m not bringing her into this. You brought her into it. How would you feel? If you found out you had a kid? That’s been kept from you? You wouldn’t be upset?”

“Of course, I would. And I’m not saying you shouldn’t be angry. I never meant for things to go on this long. But I have my reasons.”

He gives a derisive snort. “Excuses, you mean.”

“No. Legit reasons. That you won’t even listen to right now. And I get it; you’ve had a hell of a day and this is all still really fresh. But you had no right asking if she was yours. There is no reason you can deny her. Not one that isn’t fuelled by spite, at least. She IS yours. And there was never anyone else. There was only you. I never wanted anyone but you. And for you to even suggest that I fucked around on you…”

“You were quick to fuck me in Dhaka. How do I know you didn’t find someone else that brought that out of you?”

“I’m not even going to entertain that question. You know that I would never do that. Cheat on you. Not after everything I went through with Mark. Not after swearing I would never trust someone again. That I’d never let anyone get that close. And what happened? I met you and all of that changed. I didn’t want anyone else. And I certainly didn’t NEED anyone else.”

“I want to believe you.”

“Are you forgetting the simple fact we lived in the middle of bum fuck nowhere? In a fucking shack we shared with a dog and a chicken?! How the hell would I even meet someone? We couldn’t have anything delivered. The closest place to order food from was two hours away, we had to go into Broome just to pick up Amazon packages. Who I was going to fuck, Tyler?”

He shrugs. “Could have met someone online.”

“I can’t believe you’re even doubling down on this. To be so bold while knowing you’re so wrong. There was never anyone but you. And that is our daughter. YOUR daughter. You can say what you want about me, but she’s totally innocent. And she’s smart and she’s beautiful and she’s everything that was perfect about us. Don’t do that to her. She doesn’t deserve that.”

“She didn’t deserve to not have two parents either.”

“Alright…” Esme holds her hands up in surrender. “...this is going nowhere. You’re just interested in hurting me. I get it. And you know, I deserve it. I could have handled things better. Especially when the smoke cleared and the dust settled. But you could at least hear me out. And seeing as you’re not in the right place to listen and understand, I’m not going to push it. It’s all really fresh and it’s a lot to deal with and I’m going to leave it to you. Maybe once you sleep on things, we can actually sit and talk. Like rational human beings.”

She attempts to leave; arms crossed over her chest and she steps past him and heads for the door. At first he simply watches; observing the slumped, defeated shoulders and the way tucks her chin into her chest. Silently berating himself for stooping so low; for lashing out and hurting her and going against the promise he’d made to himself to stay calm and rational. It isn’t until she’s near the exit that he finally follows; crossing the room with long, purposeful strides and then standing behind her. And places his palm flat against the door just as she opens it; keeping it firmly shut, his front pressed against her back.

That simple body-to-body contact makes her noticeably shiver. Every hair standing on end and every nerve seeming as if it’s on fire. It’s been five years and it’s all still there. The love and the adoration and the often overwhelming, blinding want and need.

“Don’t go.”

“This isn’t the time for this,” she meekly protests. “It’s all still too fresh. You need time. Alone. To come to terms with everything. I know I’ve dumped a lot in your lap. Hiring you for this job and bringing you all the way here and then finding out about Millie and…”

“I don’t want you to leave. Not again.”

“Just let me go, Tyler. It’s better for both of us. If I stay, it’ll only make things worse. You need some time to…”

“I can’t let you walk away. I wasn’t there to stop you the first time. But I can stop you now.”

She turns to face him, back pressed against the door. “Do you really think it’s a good idea? Me sticking around? Because we’re just going to end up fighting. It’s all just so raw. You’ve had a hell of a day and I have really just thrown you to the wolves. If we’re just going to end up fighting….”

“I don’t want to fight. That’s the last thing I want.”

“You’re upset. And you have every right to be. But when you’re angry, you lash out. And when you lash out, I get defensive. All that’s going to do is cause more problems. It’ll be two steps forward, a hundred steps back. And I don’t want that.”

“You came here to talk. Let’s talk. No more lashing out. No fighting. Just talk.”

“I just want you to hear me out. I just want you to listen to what I have to say. I know I hurt you, Tyler. I know I could have handled things better; I made some really bad choices and some pretty shitty mistakes. And you really do have every right to be angry. To hate me. But…”

“I don’t hate you, Esme. I could never hate you.” There’s so much more he longs to say. I still love you, I never got over you. I’ve missed you.

A smile tugs at the corners of her mouth. “Thank you. I needed you to say that. And I really needed to hear it.”

“Can we? Talk? I’d rather do it sooner than later. I don’t want to get into the job and have all this hanging over our heads.”

“I don’t want that either. I don’t want things to be awkward between us. We’ve never had that problem. Not even in Dhaka. And I hate that I fucked it all up. That I made things so awful between us. I am sorry. I never meant to hurt you. Or for things to drag on like this. Will you just hear me out? Please?”

He nods. Aching to do so much more. Starting with running his knuckles along her bruised and battered cheeks and tucking loose tendrils of hair behind her ears. But instead, it's her that reaches for him; trailing a fingernail along the scar that resides on the underside of his chin.

“You added a new one. To your collection.”

“I’ve earned a few. Since the last time you saw me.”

“You look good, though. Healthy. Life hasn’t been too hard on you.”

“It wasn’t easy,” he admits. “Especially the first year. After…”

“I kept an eye on you. Not literally, of course. But I asked about you. A lot. Nik kept me updated. So I’d know how you were doing. I heard how you quit for a bit. Took some time off. You must have needed it. A chance to get away from it all.”

“It was supposed to be a full-time thing. Being retired. Trouble always seems to find me, though. I always seem to get dragged back in.”

“Is it wrong that I’m glad? That you did? Because you wouldn’t be here right now if you didn’t. I wouldn’t have been able to hire you.”

“I don’t want your money, Esme. I don’t need your money. That’s not why I agreed to this. As soon as I saw you, I knew I was going to take it. And then I met Millie…”

“There’s no one I trust. Not in the way I trust you. That’s why I had Nik contact you. About the job. Because I knew I could trust you with the most precious thing in my life. I knew you could keep Millie safe. That you’d do anything for her.”

“I’d do anything for her mumma, too.”

“Even now? After all this time?”

“Even now,” he confirms.

Her palm cradles the side of his face; eyes locked on his as she runs the pad of her thumb across his lips. And he meets no resistance when he rests on the small of her back; escorting her back into the living room, and gesturing for her to take a seat on the couch.

“Want something to drink? I’ve only got bottled water. Or I could order something from room service. A tea or…?”

“Water is fine. Thank you.”

She watches as he journeys to the small wet bar in the corner of the room; noticing that the limp in his right leg is more noticeable than when they’d been together. And that his thighs and his calves are much thicker; denim tight against bulging muscle and the extra weight he now carries. At least thirty pounds heavier than when they’d first met and started their life together; shoulders and back and chest broader, arms bulkier, his face fuller. And she smiles as he returns, twisting off the caps on two bottles of water before holding one out in offering. She graciously accepts; enjoying the small and innocent moment of physical contact when he drops down beside her; close enough that his thigh presses against hers.

“You’ve been sober too? All this time?”

Nodding, Tyler takes a sip of his drink. “Not for lack of wanting to, that’s for sure.”

“That’s quite the feat. Staying on the right track. I’m proud of you.”

“I only have you to thank for it. Every time I wanted to drink or I wanted to swallow some oxy, I’d think about how disappointed you’d be; when you came back and found out I was a complete fucking mess again. And even when I finally did yank my head out of my ass and realized you weren’t coming home, I held onto it. What you’d think if you knew I was back on my bullshit.”

“Tyler…I….”

“It kept me from doing some damage. If I’d gone back to what I was like before you, I wouldn’t be here right now. So maybe that’s the bright side. Of you leaving. Holding out hope kept me on this side of the ground.”

“Well, for what it’s worth, I’m glad that you are. And I’m glad that you’re doing so well. That life hasn’t been too rough on you. You deserve better than that. In the same way you deserve so much better than what I did to you. And I know you say you don’t hate me and that…”

“I don’t. I don’t hate you. I never could. How do you hate someone that you love this much? No way you ever could. No matter what they do to you.” Silence follows his confession. And she nervously nurses her water as he absentmindedly picks at the label on his bottle. The last thing she wants is to push him; knowing how hard it must be for him -in the midst of his lingering pain and anger- to be so raw and vulnerable.

*****

“Millie couldn’t stop talking about you,” Esme breaks the silence; opting for a topic of conversation less likely to trigger the lingering rage and hurt. “Or about your upcoming ice cream. Just went on and on and on; all through dinner, during her bath. Right up until she fell asleep.”

A smile plays on his lips. “What did she say?”

“What didn’t she say is probably the better question. She’s totally intrigued by you. She talked about how you’re tall like a giant and you’ve got big muscles and cool tattoos and scars and really ‘bitchin’ hair’.”

“She actually said that? Bitchin’?”

“That was an exact quote. I think she’s been spending too much time eavesdropping on teenage conversations while at the sitter’s. And she really loves your accent. Said she can’t wait to learn more ‘funny words’.”

“I promise I won’t teach her any of the really bad ones. I won’t have her calling anyone a ‘cunt’ before she turns five. Not even in an affectionate way.”

“I remember how shocked I was. When I first moved there and heard people just dropping that word left and right. Talk about culture shock! Call someone that here and you’re getting punched in the face. Over there you use it as a term of endearment.”

“You did alright though. Settled in nicely. Didn’t take too long for you to get used to things. Couple weeks in and you were already saying shit like Maccas, drongo, sanger.”

“Well, I guess it’s because I felt comfortable there. Like I was finally home. And I had a really good teacher, so…”

Another prolonged silence. Both hate the awkwardness that now exists between them. It’s foreign. Uncomfortable. Even during those initial moments after their first meeting things ever seem so strained.

“When is…” He begins.

“I just want to…” Esme blushes. “Sorry. Go ahead.”

“Ladies first.”

“Age before beauty,” she teases. “Besides, I think your right to answers trumps anything I have to say.”

“I was just going to ask when she was born. When her birthday is.”

“October. The seventeenth. Pretty close to your mom’s.”

“Just a few days separating them.”

“Millie was actually three weeks late. I guess she got a little too comfortable in there and decided she was going to set up camp. Permanently. I had to be induced. And even then she was reluctant when it came to being evicted. Took her thirty-six hours. Before she finally came kicking and screaming into the world.”

“Thirty six hours?”

“Well, close. VERY close. I tell you, she was stubborn right from the start.” She leans into him; playfully nudging his arm with her elbow. “Gets that from her dad.”

“I don’t know about that. You’re a hell of a lot more stubborn than I am.”

“Please! You’re the king of stubborn people! You are…hands down…the most pig-headed man…no….PERSON… I have ever met. Remember all those times the doctor told you to take it easy? When all his advice just went in one ear and out the other because, and I quote, ‘I know my body better than he does’?”

“Well, I do. I’ve only lived in for what? Almost forty years now.”

“And what good came out of pushing yourself? You were always run down, always getting sick because of it. Complications with your knee and your lung. But you never listened. Not to the doctor, not to me. You’ve always done your own thing. Regardless of who tried to talk you out of it. Remember what you used to get like? When I nag you? About taking care of yourself? You’d get all grumpy and pouty and defiant and…”

“Excuse you? Pouty? I do NOT pout.”

“You do. And it’s adorable. It’s one of the things that I used to love the most about you. The fact you can be so tough and strong and badass but so…human…at the same time. It was sexy. All those different sides of you. The ones that only I got to see.”

“You always had a way of bringing those out. All those things I thought were long dead inside of me. You always knew how to get to me. Right from the start.”

“Only because you trusted me. Because you let me see those sides of you. Even if some of those sides did drive me a little batty sometimes.”

“I drove you batty? If we’re going to talk about being pig-headed, I’m tossing you under the bus too. Remember Dhaka? Telling you to stick close to me? And what did you….?”

“I thought you were overreacting. I didn’t see a reason to have to be glued to your hip.”

“I was there to protect you. If anything had happened to you, it would have been my ass.”

“I was still in my rebellious ‘I listen to no man’ stage. I wasn’t letting you boss me around. I didn’t care how much bigger you were, you were NOT going to tell me what to do. But I learned my lesson, that’s for sure. When you tried to choke me out. Back at the hotel.”

“That is not what I was trying to do.”

“I know. You were trying to scare me off. Because you were having the ‘feels’. You liked me. You thought I was cute. You wanted to kiss me. You wanted to kiss me so bad it made you look stupid.”

“I didn’t just want to kiss you. That’s for sure.”

“You made that very clear. When you tried to put me through the wall. I have to admit, on my list of ‘first times with a new partner’, you’re at the very top. Hell, you have your own chapter.”

A blush creeps into his cheeks, slowly spreading to the tips of his ears. And when they both fall quiet, he returns to picking at the label on the water bottle as she lightly drums her fingernails against hers.

“She was born on a Tuesday,” Esme breaks the silence. “Millie. It was a beautiful fall day. It was bright and sunny; the sky was the most amazing colour of blue. And the trees…” She gives a wistful smile of remembrance. “...they’d just started turning; orange and red and gold. I was always a huge autumn in New York girl.”

“I remember how we used to talk about it. Visiting in the fall. You always used to bring up buying one of those townhouses. If we ever came into big money.”

“A brownstone. Gramercy Park. You’d love it there. It’s quaint and it’s quiet and it seems a million miles away from all the hustle and bustle. Maybe one day…” Her voice trails off.

“Tell me more,” Tyler encourages. “About Millie. Please.”

“She weighed eight pounds, eight ounces. She was the sweetest little chunk. The chubbiest cheeks I’ve ever seen. Like a little chipmunk, hoarding for the winter. And she was twenty-two inches long. All limbs. Like her dad.”

He smiles.

“She was so beautiful. She had this headful of blond hair and those gorgeous blue eyes and the longest lashes I’ve ever seen. I remember the nurse carrying her over and going on and on about how she must look like her daddy. Because she sure didn’t have any of her mom’s DNA.” Her voice cracks with emotion. “And Millie just snuggled right into me and she looked up at me with those eyes and I just…fell in love. Same way I fell in love with her dad the first time he looked at me.”

“Esme…”

“I had wanted to be a mom for so long. And then I lost the baby with Mark and my marriage became a total nightmare and everything just fell apart. I swore I’d never trust someone again. I told myself I’d never let anyone get that close to me. And if that meant I never got to have a baby, that’s the price I was willing to pay. Then you came along and you turned my world upside down and everything changed. For the better.”

“It was a hell of a way to kick things off. Everything that happened in Dhaka. Sometimes I wonder if it worked against us; it gave us some false sense of security. We figured we’d already been through the worst of it. What could possibly go wrong. Maybe we just got too comfortable.”

“I know you don’t really believe that. We were so good together, Tyler. Nothing that felt that right could ever be wrong. We just didn’t get the chance. To build on things. And we deserved better. So much better.”

“And Millie? Did you know? When you left? That you were having her?”

“No. I didn’t find out about her until after I arrived in New York. Three weeks later.”

“Why didn’t you call me? Or text me? I would have dropped everything to be with you. I would have gotten the first flight out and…”

“That’s why I didn’t contact you. Because I knew that you’d come here. I couldn’t risk that. I left Australia to protect you. And if you’d just shown up here…”

“I had a right to know. That you were pregnant. You didn’t make that baby by yourself. I deserved to know about her.”

“I wanted to tell you. As soon as I found out. Believe me, I wanted nothing more than for you to be there. Through the whole thing. It’s all I ever thought about; how different things would be if you were around. I didn’t want to be going through all that alone. Doctors appointments and ultrasounds and buying little clothes and picking names and decorating a bedroom. I WANTED you to be there. I didn’t want to be going through all that by myself.”

“You didn’t have to. You could have just called me. We could have found a way, Esme. To make things work. Whatever was going on? Whoever was after you? We would have dealt with it. Together. You didn’t have to do it alone. And you goddamn well know that.”

“I couldn’t put you at risk. I just couldn’t. If I kept you safe, it meant that you’d still be able to meet Millie. Further down the road. If I brought you into everything and something happened to you, she would never have gotten a chance to know her daddy. That’s why I didn’t tell you. I did it for BOTH of you.”

“I want to understand this. I really do. I don’t want to be this angry. Not at you. But it’s hard. It is so fucking hard. You’re the one person that I trusted. With every messy, broken fucking piece of myself. You’re the one person who knew how fucked up I was and didn’t look at me like I was some piece of shit. You knew about Austin. You knew what I did. When he was sick. You knew about all of that guilt and regret and the hate I had for myself. That I still do.”

“You were never broken. A little bent, maybe. You had a lot of dents and scratches, but you were NOT broken. I never thought of you that way. I still don’t. I didn’t keep Millie from you to hurt you.”

“We talked about having kids. You knew that I was willing to give you what you wanted. A family. Even though the idea of being a dad again scared the shit out of me. I was ready for that. To have another kid and do things right. And you never even gave me the fucking chance.”

“It wasn’t about you. Not in the way you’re thinking it was. You didn’t do anything wrong. It wasn’t something you did or something you said that made me leave. I didn’t want to go. I wanted to stay. I wanted a life with you. I didn’t leave because I didn’t love you. I left because I did.”

He places his elbows on his knees; sighing heavily as he runs his hands through his hair and over his face.

“I know you’re hurt. And I’m not trying to take that from you. Because you deserve to feel whatever it is you’re feeling. But I just want you to try and understand. Please. Can you just try? Just hear me out?”

Tyler nods.

“When you were gone with Koen, an adjudicator with the High Table showed up. There were new powers in charge, and one of the first things they decided to do was review old files. Investigate people that had been ex-communicated; find out what they did wrong and punish them if they saw fit. My name was on the list and my file was one of those that got re-opened.”

“The High Table? That is some serious underground shit. What…?”

“It was the circles I was working in. Before I met Nik. It was dark and it was dangerous and it wasn’t a past that I was proud of. Which is why I never talked about it. I wanted to forget that part of my life; being involved with people like that. I had moved on; I was given a way out. And then I started working for Nik and I never thought of all that again. I thought it was finished.”

“How the hell did you ever get on their bad side? It takes a lot to piss them off. As long as you follow their rules…”

“That’s the problem. I didn’t. I did someone a favour. I did work on Continental grounds. And I would have gotten away with it but the wrong person found out about it and told the High Table what I’d done. The only reason I wasn’t punished even worse was because both Winston and John Wick went to bat for me and the High Table agreed to only excommunicate me. I could no longer set foot on Continental grounds, or do any work for -or with- anyone associated with it. They let me just walk away. Make a new life.”

“Why did you never tell me about any of this? That THAT’S what you used to do? I knew you were involved with some heavy duty shit, but…”

“I didn’t think it mattered. That part of my life was over. It was behind me. Just like the things you’d done on the job before we met never mattered to me. There was before us and after us. I didn’t think it needed to be brought up. Would it have made a difference? In whether or not you’d want to be with me?”

“No. Of course not. I just thought something like that would have gotten brought up. At some point.”

“I never had a reason to talk about it. They weren’t a threat. They were a part of me that didn’t exist anymore.”

“Until they showed up.”

“The adjudicator said I had forty-eight hours. To get to New York City and surrender myself to the High Table. Or they were going to come back and physically take me there.”

“You should have let them. You should have called and told me what was going on. I would have come home and I would have…”

“What would you have done, Tyler? Fight back? You still weren’t a hundred percent. And I know how strong you are and I know what skills you have, but none of that would have mattered. It wouldn’t have been just one or two people. Or even six. It would have been a whole army of them. They’re vicious and they’re ruthless and they would have stopped at nothing to get their hands on me. I couldn’t take the chance. Of losing you completely. I just couldn’t.”

“How did you even get here? To New York?”

“I got a hold of Nik.” She notices the way his jaw tenses and his eyes darken) “I know she’s not your favourite person right now. But I didn’t know who else to call. I needed someone I could trust and…”

“You could have trusted me. We could have taken off. We didn’t have to stick around and wait for them to show up. If you'd just called me and told me what was going on…”

“I didn’t want you involved. I didn’t want a target on your back. So I called Nik and she got me out of Australia and to New York City. And from there, John Wick got me to a safe place. He let the High Table know I was back in the States, but he wasn’t turning me over until they gave his word that they’d spare my life.”

“And why would they do that? And why would he help you?”

“It was John that I did the work for. While on Continental grounds. He felt guilty for what I was going through and promised he’d do anything he could go to protect me. He was going to wage war against them; with the Bowery King. It’s a long and twisted and very complicated story. That’s HIS to tell. But the time he negotiated with The High Table for my safety, he was ready to go to battle against them. I never ended up having to face them.”

“And you found out about Millie. During all this.”

“About three weeks later. I hadn’t been feeling well for a while. I was sick when you went with Koen to Broome. We thought it was stress; we’d just bought a house and we were moving in two weeks and we were trying to get everything packed up. But then I got to New York and each day I felt a little worse and I then realized I’d skipped two periods so I took a test and…”

“And there was no way you could have told me? Found a way? To keep it on the down low and….”

“It was too much of a risk. I’d know you’d come here. And I was trying to avoid something happening to you. I know it’s hard to swallow and I know it seems incredibly selfish, but I didn’t do it to purposefully hurt you. I really did do it to protect you.”

Briefly closing his eyes, he pinches the bridge of his nose between his thumb and forefinger) “What about after? When things calmed down? Why didn’t you contact me then?”

“I wanted to. I was going to. Millie was eight months old, by then. A lot of time had passed since we last talked, let alone saw each other. I chickened out. I was afraid. That you’d be so angry at me and hate me so much that you wouldn’t want anything to do with me. Or Millie.”

“That never would have happened. It wouldn’t have mattered how much time had passed. If you’d called me, I would have been there. On the next plane. I would have given up my entire life for you. For her. No hesitations, no questions asked.”

“It was stupid of me. And selfish. Incredibly selfish. I didn’t mean for it to go on this long. To hurt you like this.” She reaches out; afraid to touch him at first. But the simple brush of her fingertips against the back of his neck has both his jaw and his shoulders loosening; eyes closing once more as he releases a long, almost content sigh. It encourages her to continue. Scraping her fingernails along the bottom of his hairline before dropping her hand to his shoulder; softly and repeatedly squeezing. “I’m sorry, Tyler. I am so sorry. I know you’re angry and hurt and this is a lot to digest. But I really am sorry. I didn’t leave you because I didn’t love you. I left you because I did. And I still do.”

He blinks at her admission, then turns her face into her palm when she places her hand upon his cheek. In that moment, it occurs to him just how much he’d missed her touch; far more than he’d ever admitted to even himself. Those soft and gentle hands that tended to wounds and wandered and explored his body during intimate times. Soothed his hair away from his flushed forehead or rubbed his back after a nightmare. He had missed HER. The sound of her voice and her laugh; those enormous dark eyes and the smile reserved just for him. He’d seen in that afternoon; when they’d come face to face in her suite. He’d felt it then, that intense draw to her. The want and need. The adoration and love. Still there after all these years; fighting to get past all of the hurt and the pain. even now in the midst of all the hurt and the pain. He boldly presses his forehead against hers; filled with a sense of calm as he finds himself accosted by the feel of her skin and her familiar smell. His lips briefly brush against her brow when she pulls away; sniffling as she swipes at her errant tears. And he gently pushes her hands away from her face and in order to tend to her; fingertips clearing away the droplets that glisten upon her cheeks and the sides of her nose.

“Does Millie know anything?” He inquires. “About her dad? Does she ever ask or…?”

“Lately she’s been asking a lot. All of her little friends have dads, so why doesn’t she? I knew it would happen eventually; she’d get to an age where she’d hear and notice things.”

‘What have you told her?”

“I told her that her dad lives far away. And that he’s a very good man; he’s strong and brave and resilient and has a heart bigger than his body. I told her that we were happy; we didn’t have a lot but we had each other and we were making all kinds of plans for our future. And I also told her that something bad happened and I had to leave him. So that he wouldn’t get hurt. I promised that one day when the time was right, I’d take her to meet him. And I said that I missed him. Every second of every day. For five years. And I loved him; with everything I was and everything I had. That I still do.”

Laying a hand on the back of her neck, he presses a kiss to her brow and then pulls her into him. Holding her as tightly as her tiny body will allow; her entire body shuddering violently against him as she sobs. There could never be hate; loving her with an intensity and a passion he’d never experienced before. Even now it’s so powerful; capable of taking his breath away and bringing him to his knees. And in turn, she clings desperately to him, hands tightly gripping his t-shirt.

Running a palm over her hair, he places a kiss on her temple. “It’s alright now. Everything’s going to be okay.”

“It’s not okay. It’s so far from okay. I never wanted to hurt you. I didn’t want to leave. I’m sorry, Tyler. I’m so sorry.”

“I know, Esme. I know you are.”

“I hope one day you can forgive me. That you won’t be so angry.”

“I’m not angry at you. At everything that happened, yeah. But not at you.”

“ I did what I thought was best. To keep you safe. And then I found out about Millie and I had to keep her safe too. She’s the most important thing in my life. My entire world. She’s all I had of you. And on those days when things got really bad and I was lonely and wanted nothing more than to be with you, all I had to do was look at her. I’d see you every time. And it made things better because I at least had a piece of you to keep me going.”

“I’m sorry, Esme. About everything that happened. That you had to do it all by yourself. I wish it could have been different. I wish I could have been there. You know that I would have, yeah? I would have been there…with you…in a heartbeat.”

Nodding, she pulls away and wipes at her tears. “It’s going to be okay,” he assures her. “I promise.”

“Things would have been so different. If I never had to leave. We’d be happy and raising Millie together and….”

“She’s got a lot of years left. She’s got a long life ahead of her. Just a little girl still.”

“I just want to start over. I just want to do things right this time. We deserve a second chance.”

“We do. And we’ll talk about that. When we’re out of New York and I’ve got you and Millie somewhere safe. I’m sure we’ll have a lot of time. To figure it all out.”

“I should go. It’s late. I’ve taken up enough of your time.”

“We’ve got four years to make up for.”

“You need sleep. It’s been a hell of a long day. Especially for you. And you’ve had a lot dumped in your lap. I am sorry, Tyler. That it ever had to come down to this. I didn’t want it to be this way; you meeting Millie like this.”

“Sometimes fate just intervenes. Whether we like the way it does it or not.’

He walks her to the door; a protective and loving hand on the back of her neck. And she turns to face him; a gentle and grateful smile curving her lips as she smiles at him, a sparkle in her tearful eyes.

“Thank you. For hearing me out. And thank you for her. Especially for her.”

He grazes his knuckles across the top of her cheek, then along her jaw. Fingertips lingering on the bottom of her chin before leaning down to press his lips to hers. She initially hesitates and then eagerly responds; standing on her tiptoes as her hands settle on his hips. And what starts as long and soft and sweet turns into something far more intense and needy; hearing and feeling the long, content sigh that escapes as his tongue pushes its way; into her mouth; her body leaning into his as her nails dig into his sides. The hunger and want and need for each other suddenly is too much to resist; his fingers hooking in the waistband of both leggings and underwear and aggressively yanking them down; pushing them down her hips and over as ass as her hands make quick work of his belt.

It’s fast and unceremonious; a half-naked, quick and uncomplicated fuck right where they stand. Eerily reminiscent of Dhaka; when two broken and lonely people had found solace in one another after years of mental anguish. Even five years later, he remains fascinated and amazed at how much punishment her little body can take. The fingers of one hand pressing into one of her ass cheeks while the others dig into her throat; sloppy kisses exchanged while she breathlessly pleads for ‘harder’ and ‘faster. Giving him the opportunity to take all of that anger and the hurt and turn it into something more constructive; enjoying the way she yanks at his hair and her legs wrap around his waist as he unleashes brutal, punishing thrusts.

When it’s over, he remains buried inside of her; her mouth peppering his neck with kisses and nibbles as he carries her across the room. Both completely spent and sated when they fall onto the bed; their limbs trembling as sweat glistens on their foreheads and gathers at their temples. And even in the midst of post-orgasmic haze he worries about protecting her; palms flat against the mattress so his outstretched arms can support his weight.

She’s quick to protest when she feels him begin to pull out; mewing in disappointment and pulling him down on top of her. “Stay,” she pleads, hands pushing through his hair; placing a line of kisses along his jaw before her lips find his ear. “Right where you are. I want to feel you inside of me. Just for a little while. I’ve missed that. So much. I’ve missed YOU.”

He kisses her in response; soft and deep and languid. Lips brushing against the tip of her nose before he rests his brow against hers and closes his eyes.

#Tyler and Esme series #Tyler Rake #Extraction #Tyler Rake fan fiction #Extraction fan fiction #Chris Hemsworth #Chris Hemsworth Extraction #Tyler Rake fan fic #Extraction fan fic #Tyler Rake x OFC #Extraction 2 #Rake Lives

[chickensarentcheap]

It’s finally here! Chapter 1!!!

Title: Lost and Found

Fandom: Extraction

Pairing: Tyler Rake and Esme Drummond  (established OFC)

Warnings: small mention of sexual and physical abuse,  implied sexual activity (sorry ‘they bone too much!’ anon), profanity

Tagging: @asirensrage, @residentdormouse, @munstysmind, @themaradaniels, @tragiclyhip, @secretaryunpaid, @starryeyes2000, @youflickedtooharddamnit, @arrthurpendragon, @ocappreciationtag​, @occommunity​

Tag list is open:

Link to Ao3: 

******

Summary:

Four years ago, she left without explanation.   Leaving him with nothing but her scent lingering on his bedsheets  and a note on the kitchen table;  a simple and infuriating  “I’m sorry” scrawled in the middle.  Now fate is about to intervene; reuniting them under unpredictable and dangerous circumstances. With her cover broken and her entire existence at risk of being wiped out at the hands of a ruthless crime syndicate,  Tyler is sent to New York City to retrieve what he’d thought was long lost: his reason for survival and the love of his life.  

Tasked with both removing her from the country and further providing protection, Tyler will be confronted by two painful truths:

Time truly doesn’t heal all wounds

Distance really does make the heart grow fonder

Is there a way to return to the past? Those days when he was happy and his life had meaning and there’d been a reason to keep putting one foot in front of the other?  Can something that ended so painfully be mended?  Is there a semblance of truth to the old saying, ‘what’s meant to be, will be?’ Or is the hurt just too much to get past?  

Through several countries and perilous and terrifying times, he will find the answers he seeks.  And get the explanation that he feels he’s deserved for all these years.   But is the lingering love and want and need requited,  or has she truly moved on with her life?

And just what is he supposed to think of  -and do with- the fearless and precocious (and extremely unexpected) travel companion attached to her hip?

******

THE KIMBERLEY, AUSTRALIA

*******

She’s careful not to wake him. Gingerly lifting the heavy, muscular arm tossed across her stomach, she slips from under it, holding her breath as she wriggles closer to the edge of the mattress. A peaceful night’s sleep is a rare commodity for him; normally haunted by nightmares and plagued by near chronic pain. He hadn’t tossed and turned or woken even once; no panic attacks in the wee hours of the morning or the incessant nausea brought on by the agony that lives in his weary, still fragile body. It’s been six months and he’s still not a hundred percent; his energy and stamina -while both slowly progressing- nowhere near where they used to be. The journey back to health agonizing for both of them; his frustration and disappointment especially prominent on the hardest of days. But he’s come a long way; no more breathing treatments due to losing a portion of his left lung and battling seemingly endless bronchial infections, no more physical therapies or outpatient rehab. And most importantly, no more actively seeking an escape in the mixture of booze and painkillers; his extensive hospital stay followed by a six week stint in a ‘wellness centre’ helping him successfully wean himself off his vices. It’s not to say that it isn’t a struggle; resisting the urge to drink or to numb both the physical or mental anguish. But he’s managed to stay on track; refusing to allow even a drop of alcohol into the house and rigidly following the daily dose instructions of the medications he IS allowed.

Even his temperament has improved. No longer easily agitated, no ‘hair trigger’ temper. Much calmer and more content; smiling and laughing easily as he attempts to enjoy every moment of the second chance he’s been given. Determined to be the man she both wants and needs him to be; solid and dependable, strong and protective, compassionate and comforting. Far from perfect, but never expected to be; loving all his flaws and imperfections and the little quirks and nuances make Tyler…Tyler. The early days difficult as they both adjusted to sharing both their space and their lives with another person; used to living as a single entity and having to re-learn not only how to cohabitate, but to make one another a priority. Reminding themselves daily that it wasn’t just them anymore; the times of thinking and worrying about only themselves now behind them. Having to adjust their ways of life so that the other feels included; getting used to someone else’s near constant presence and the things that both make you smile and drive you crazy.

Dhaka had at least somewhat prepared them for a life under the same roof; easily adjusting to sharing a bed and already used to -and getting past- the vast differences in their personalities. Quickly discovering that those five days in Bangladesh weren’t just a passing thing and definitely not just based on immense sexual attraction. They genuinely enjoyed being together; the conversations shared over meals, the road trips taken and the camping adventures shared, the playful teasing and quick, light hearted banter. And those quiet times; never feeling the need to break up the silence with mindless chit chat. Whether it be sitting side by side on the front porch as they watched the sunset or cuddling under the same blanket in front of a campfire. Or those moments when their naked bodies are caught up in a mess of tangled sheets as a storm rages outside; her head on his chest and his fingers moving through her hair as they listen to the roll of thunder and the patter of rain upon the tin roof.

It’s been a learning process; how to successfully build and grow a relationship while discovering one another’s shortcomings and strengths. But they’ve settled into a nice routine and have created a home out of the humble little shack; insulating and finishing the walls, closing the bathroom off from the rest of the living space, putting in proper kitchen cupboards and full sized appliances. Intending to stay in the outback until he’s back to a hundred percent and able to return to work and they’re able to put some money away; planning on buying a house in Broome or Fitzroy Crossing when the time is right. Already considering a future together; those quiet conversations in the middle of the night after their bodies are sated and spent and teetering on the verge of sleep. Wistfully talking of settling down in a small town; buying a fixer upper that -when he wasn’t travelling the world ‘fighting bad guys’ - they could put their excess time and energy into. Maybe they’d get married; make things official and legal and grow old and grey together as husband and wife. And maybe they’d even have babies. A couple of kids that would not only make their little family complete, but fulfil her dream of becoming a mother. And help heal those deep and aching wounds left behind by son’s illness and eventual passing; easing the guilt and the regret that have haunted him ever since.

It’s fun to talk about. Where they’ll be years down the road. Both possessing a steadfast belief and determination that wherever they do end up, it will be together. As traumatic and life altering as Dhaka had been, it had been the catalyst; shared fear and worry and near death experiences cementing their bond and making it practically indestructible. They’d been nothing more than just two lonely and hurting people brought together by chance; somehow finding both solace and strength in one another. And -although the words hadn’t been spoken yet - love.

She felt it in Bangladesh. Perhaps not ‘fully in the deep end’ love itself, but the beginnings of it. An enormous sexual attraction paired with an equally intense motional one. Initially drawn to his ‘strong and stoic’ facade and then further intrigued by the humanity and vulnerability lingering underneath. Finding him a calm , comforting presence; finding herself ground in his presence and her fears and anxieties soothed whenever he was by her side. And despite her vow to never trust a man again, it had been so easy to both confide in and rely on him; never doubting his word -or his ability- to keep her safe from harm. He was an enigma of sorts; somehow straddling that thin line between intimidation and charm. A big, burly man covered in tattoos and scars; carrying around a mountain of trauma and burdens and regrets. Completely capable of killing another with his bare hands without even breaking a sweat, yet somehow still possessing a shocking amount of tenderness. Something she’d been quick to discover in Dhaka; those enormous, calloused hands gentle and explorative as they roamed her body.. Able to not only inflict startling amounts of damage on the human form, but bring it to most insane heights of pleasure that she’d ever experienced. Never in her life had she been with a lover that selfless and thorough; confident in his skills as he gained knowledge of every inch of her. Determined in his quest to make her forget every man that ever came before him; transforming her into a quivering, shrieking mess and refusing to stop until tears were streaming down her face and she was begging for mercy.

And afterwards. In the confines of that messy bed. Their naked, sweat slicked bodies pressed tightly together; her face buried in the crook of his neck as his knuckles repeatedly travelled up and down her spine. The first time had been awkward; boldly snuggling into him after an especially intense and vigorous bout of sex only to have completely tense up. It had been humiliating and more painful than any rejection she’d ever faced; allowing herself a moment of vulnerability and having it totally backfire. But when she’d attempted to move away, he’d stopped her, wrapping both arms around her much smaller, lighter frame and pulling her tightly into him. Kissing her in a way she’d never been kissed before; so deeply and passionately that it made her toes curl and her heart hammer wildly in her chest. It hadn’t been rejection or repulsion or disinterest that had spurred his reaction, but a deviation from the norm; a startling reminder that it had been years…hell, even decades…since he’d experienced that kind of affection. Following the death of his son and the disintegration of his marriage, he’d spent years alone; banishing himself to a life of isolation in the Australian outback. When he did seek out contact with another, it was while he was away on a job; relying on randoms picked up in bars or from familiar women in various cities in different countries that weren’t looking for anything more than something physical. He never spent the night; having his needs fulfilled and then leaving before the sun came up. Some had been hopeful; believing they could coax him out of the life and transform him into something…and someone…much more cultured. Respectable. Nik had even held out hope; that their long standing ‘friends with benefits’ arrangement would turn into something more. She could ‘fix him’; push aside the pity and the disgust she routinely felt just long enough to turn him into what SHE wanted. But the interest on his part had never been there. Not with her. Nor with any of the others he’d warmed his bed with.

She was different. He’d admitted that. Despite how quickly things were happening and the intensity of the emotions involved, it felt good. Being there with her. Not just the sex but everything that came before and after; the calm and easy way they worked side by side, the friendly -and even flirtatious- banter that was so effortlessly exchanged, the sleepy yet deep and revealing conversations that took place in the dead of night. His confession stripping away one of the few remaining protective barriers he’d long ago built up around himself; opening them both up to a level of emotional vulnerability they’d never shown before. And from that night on, they’d sleep close together. His face buried in her hair and those strong, muscular arms wrapped securely around her, effectively keeping her slumbering form pressed tightly against his. Both settling into a level of comfort and contentment never before experienced; the world outside and the craziness and unpredictability of the job and ceasing to exist. Behind closed doors they were just Tyler and Esme. Two weary and damaged people caught up in the whirlwind of falling in love.

Perhaps it had been the wrong place. At the wrong time.

But nothing had ever felt so right.

******

The moment she steps into the kitchen she’s greeted by Lucy; the loyal -and phenomenally spoiled- Border Collie mix she’d first met more than six months ago. When she’d stepped onto Tyler’s front porch and was immediately welcomed by the affectionate canine; not able to resist dropping to her knees and giving her ear and chin scratches and vigorous belly rubs. When she’d return -a month and a half later with a still recovering Tyler in tow- it was as if they’d only seen each other hours before; an excited Lucy bringing Esme her most cherished stuffed toy and her favourite ball in a request to indulge in a game of fetch. From that moment on, it became HER dog; Lucy following her around the house and the land, quickly and effortlessly learning the tricks and commands she was taught, and always squeezing herself in between their bodies at night. And giving Tyler the stink eye if he even so much as dared to move closer to Esme; those glistening dark eyes letting him know -beyond the shadow of a doubt- that Esme was hers now.

She tends to filling Lucy’s food and water dishes as she boils water for a tea; standing at the kitchen counter and reading yesterday’s paper as she waits for her drink to properly steep. And then -with Lucy hot on her heels- she heads out onto the front porch; nursing the piping hot beverage as she watches the remaining moments of the sunrise and enjoys the breeze that rolls through the valley. It’s barren yet beautiful; surrounded by mountain ridges and inhabited by some of Australia's most popular wildlife. Never in a million years would she have ever dreamed of ending up here; a world away from Colorado and the existence she’d once called her own. In reality, she hadn’t abandoned much; a toxic family that had worked their entire lives to make hers a horrible experience. And an ex husband that still managed to make his presence known eighteen months post-divorce- staying friends with her mother despite the horrendous physical, mental, and sexual abuse that he’d put her own daughter through. Staying in Australia had been a ‘no brainer’; she’d been counting down the days until her planned return home and with every second that passed, her anxiety grew and her depression worsened. She didn’t want to leave; she was happy and comfortable and had found someone that looked at her as if she was the most beautiful creature on earth. Someone that made her feel alive again; as if he had no qualms about gathering up all her pieces and helping her put herself back together again. Not a perfect man, but a good man; strong and stoic, compassionate and kind. With a beautiful smile and sparkling blue eyes that hide many layers of trauma and pain. Someone who's been hurt beyond all reason, yet still has the capacity to love.

He had been the one to first approach the idea of making her stay in Australia a permanent one. He’d woken from a late nap brought on by the prescribed pain meds and she’d been in the kitchen, sipping at a glass of pink lemonade while repeatedly opening and closing the cupboards and the fridge as she contemplated what to make for dinner. He’d joined her; clad in only a pair of sweats worn dangerously low on his hips. Body still bearing the evidence of the nightmare in Dhaka; bone deep bruises that were in the last stages of healing, newly acquired scars that were still red and swollen and angry. Yet he’d been nothing short of adorable; this mountain of a man with all his muscles and broad shoulders, looking grumpy with his hair mussed from sleep and his hands rubbing at his glossy eyes. And he’d stepped behind her and greeted her with a pat on the bum before draping his arm across her collarbone and pressing a kiss to her temple.

“You don’t have to go back if you don’t want to.”

It had been so unexpected. So out of the blue. And she’d wondered just how long he’d been contemplating exactly what to say; not wanting to seem too needy and vulnerable by coming right out and admitting he didn’t want her to leave. But she’d challenged him on it; asking if that was his way of telling her he wanted her to stay. That he liked having her around; enjoying her company and the companionship she provided him with and the life that they were creating together.

It was the first time she’d ever seen him blush. Her gentle pushing off the subject causing the most beautiful shade of pink to appear in his cheeks and then slowly spread right to the tips of his ears. It was a lovely sight; a man who’d just walked through hell -with the souvenirs to show for it- blushing like a shy and awkward school boy.

“Yeah…” He’d drawled, and drew his bottom lip between his teeth; refusing to make eye contact with her. “...I want you to stay.”

It had been so honest. So pure. And in an effort to not embarrass him further, she responded by standing on her tiptoes, pressing a kiss to his cheek, and asking him what he wanted for dinner.

She never did go back to Colorado. Not even to collect personal effects. Her step sister boxing up anything important and shipping it to her new home.

The creak of the rusted screen door captures her attention, and before she can turn to greet him, he’s dropping a kiss on the top of her head and wrapping both arms around her tiny frame.

“Morning.”

“Morning.” Tipping her head backwards, she smiles up at him. “I didn’t mean to wake you.”

“You didn’t,” he assures her, and kisses the tip of her nose, then her brow. “I’m surprised you’re up this early.”

“I wanted to catch the last of the sunrise. Beautiful, isn’t it?”

“Yeah…” A hand sneaks under the bottom of her t-shirt; calloused palm proceeding to drift up the side of her thigh and over her hip. “...it is.”

“I’m talking about the scenery.”

“I know….” Grinning, he uses his thumb and forefinger to pluck at her t-shirt; glancing down as he pulls the fabric away from her chest. “...so am I.”

“Tyler…” Laughing, she gives a dramatic roll of the eyes and playfully jabs her elbow into his stomach. “...you’re too much. Mind always firmly in the gutter.”

“Maybe. But…” He adjusts his hold on her; one wrapped arm around her waist, the other draped across her collarbone. “...I think you like it that way.”

“I will neither admit nor deny that.”

“You don’t have to. What’s the saying? Actions speak louder than words? Well your actions you say definitely like things that way. Dirty. As dirty as possible.”

“Maybe…” She singsongs, and then drops her chin onto his forearm and playfully bites at his wrist.

“Just more bite marks to add to the collection,” he teases. “My neck, my shoulders, the insides of my thighs.”

“You enjoy the pain. My specific brand of pain, anyway. I notice you don’t complain about it at the time. I notice you’re pretty into it. That's not bitching and moaning you’re doing.”

“Nothing to bitch and moan about. I’d have to be an idiot to complain. And I may not be the smartest guy on earth, but…”

His voice trails off; chuckling when she tilts her head back and shoots him an exasperated look. She’s been good for his ego; successfully doing battle against the voices in his head that try to drag him down. It’s been years of living with them; the whispers that remind of the horrible choice he’d made and had branded him a monster for the rest of his life. Unable to properly mourn the loss of his son; hampered by the mountains of guilt and regret that sit firmly and squarely upon his shoulders. She’s the first to see him differently; stunned by his confession in Dhaka but not allowing it to taint her impression of him. Agreeing that yes, it was a terrible mistake to make, but sympathizing with him at the same time; understanding how fear and unresolved personal trauma can lead people to make bad choices. It was refreshing; not seeing pity or disgust in someone’s eyes. And he’d completely broken down when she’d expressed her condolences towards HIM; saying she was sorry that he’d had to endure his son’s illness and suffering and eventual death.

It was at that moment that he knew she was different. And that there was far more going on between them than either of them initially thought. How could he let someone like that get away? Despite her own past troubles and questionable decisions, she was good people; compassionate and patient and stronger than anyone he’d ever known. How could he just cut ties at the end of the five days? How could he just leave her behind and go on with his life? He’d be miserable if he’d allowed that to happen; once more losing himself in the escape provided by the booze and the pain meds. If they’d gone in their separate directions, he would have spent years regretting not chasing after her. And even longer wondering where she was; constantly questioning Nik about her whereabouts and well being. Wondering who she was filling her life…and her bed…with.

And he couldn’t live like that.

It was both the smartest and the scariest thing he’d ever done. Opening up to her; allowing himself to be completely transparent and vulnerable. And it was also his bravest accomplishment; giving her permission to climb over those walls he’d built up and then trusting her -wholly and completely- with his heart.

His knees crack as he crouches; an action needed just to be able to press a kiss to her temple. She’s by far the tiniest woman he’s ever been involved with; towering her by a foot and two inches and outweighing her by a hundred pounds. And with her chestnut hair and enormous dark eyes, she’s a step away from his usual type; tall and leggy and blond with little to offer beyond no strings attached sex. Before Esme, that had been enough; never once contemplating serious commitment or the chance of settling down’. He was too messy, too complicated; it was selfish to even consider putting a woman through his particular bullshit. But those five days in Dhaka had changed everything. His former existence suddenly felt old and stale; marking the arrival of enormous change. The chance to get himself on the right track; clean himself up and put the days of ‘sowing his oats’ behind him. He no longer needed or desired numerous partners; easily cutting all ties with those ready and available women he kept in different areas of the world.

He’s content with both who and what he has; a quiet and simple life with a woman that sees past his rough and tattered edges and his admittedly chequered past. Someone that accepts his flaws yet holds him accountable for his actions; expecting him to stay clean and sober yet understanding there may be the occasional slip. It won’t be easy; he’s spent years using booze and pain meds to numb his pain and silence his demons. But he’s determined to stay on the right track.

For her.

******

For several minutes they stand in silence; her head resting back against his chest as the nails of one hand slowly skim along his forearm. It always feels so good. Being that close to him. So right. Somehow managing -despite the enormous size difference- to fit so perfectly together. All muscle and strength and prowess; his body littered with tattoos and scars collected throughout the years of living a hard, unpredictable, and often dangerous life. His hands -with their calluses and misshapen knuckles- impossibly large and powerful; capable of killing a human being with a single punch or of choking the life out of an unfortunate victim. Yet they’re somehow capable of such tenderness. Surprising her with their softness during even the smallest of moments; cradling her cheeks in his palms as he kisses her, gathering her hair while she’s busy at the sink or stove and putting in a ponytail for her, the slow and almost methodical way he moves the face cloth over her soapy skin when they shower together. But his capacity for being soft and adoring is never more evident than during those more intimate of times; the languid exploration of every inch of her body, the teasing and manipulation of each spot that drives her completely insane, the smoothing of dark tresses away from her face before looking down at her with such intensity and desire.

Running her nails along her fingers, she presses a kiss to the inside of his wrist and then slips out of his embrace; swallowing the remains of her tea as pads across the deck and places the empty mug on the window ledge. It isn’t until she turns to rejoin him that she notices his current state; eyes widening at the sight of him completely naked. And she laughs as she rejoins him; lightly slapping a palm against her forehead.

“You really do have no shame. Wandering out here like that. Just everything free and hanging in the breeze.” “Who’s going to see me? Closest neighbour is about twenty miles away. And I don't think the kangaroos and wallabies and shit are going to care.”

Placing her hands on his chest, she tucks her bottom lip between her teeth and looks up at him with enormous brown eyes. “I care. Sometimes I think a little too much. Do you enjoy torturing me? You know I have no self control.”

“I do know that,” he chides, and clears her hair away from the sides of her face; allowing it to tumble freely down her back. Hands coming to rest lightly upon her shoulders; thumbs repeatedly grazing along the smooth lines of her jaw. “I also know I don’t have to be naked for you to have no self control.”

“What can I say? You corrupted me. You seduced me and then spent five days totally ruining me.”

He grins. “Ruined you in all the best, fun ways maybe. And let’s not get into that argument; We both know YOU seduced ME.”

“You and I remember that first time very differently. YOU made the first move. YOU kissed ME. Mind you, you tried to choke me out first, but…”

“I wasn’t trying to choke you out. I was trying to spook you. Send you running. I figured if I could scare you off..”

“You’d be protecting me. From YOU. I hate to break it to you, Tyler Rake. I wasn’t scared of you”

“I figured that much when you called me a ‘fucking prick’ and tried to knee me in the nuts. Joke’s on you; would have been more effective if you’d headbutted me. You know, considering you haven’t grown since you were twelve.”

“Considering you’re standing in front of me naked and that always puts me in a good mood, I’m going to ignore that cheap shot. And let’s face it; it was all you. You activated my previously undiscovered choking kink and I was doomed from there. I just fell at your feet and you proceeded to totally corrupt me. And to think; I was such a good girl before I met you.. So good. So pure. So innocent.”

Smirking, he runs his palms across her shoulders and down her arms. Allowing them to linger briefly on her hips before sliding around to the small of her back, his fingers laced together. “You’re kidding me, right? You? Innocent? Pure?”

“As pure as the driven snow.”

“Do I need to remind you of what exactly went down during those five days? Do you want the dirty details?”

“Oh don’t you worry about my memory.” She slowly drags her nails down his chest; eyes sparkling mischievously as her fingers trace the sharp cut of his hips. “I remember it all. Every single detail. Especially the REALLY dirty ones.”

“Then you remember what you asked me to do. On the second day. No one pure and innocent asks someone that. To fuck them up the…”

“Okay! Okay!” Reaching up, she places two fingers over his lips. It’s the one sexual activity she’d can’t bring herself to talk about; the mere mention causing a blush to creep into her cheeks and travel all the way to the tips of her ears. “Just because we do it, doesn’t mean we need to talk about it.”

“I’m just pointing out how dirty you already were. When we met. Innocent? My ass. Or should I say, your ass.”

“You’re a pig!” She playfully shoves him away; laughing when he snatches her by the wrist and once more pulls her into him. “I can’t believe I actually put up with you and your bullshit,” she teases. “I can’t believe I willingly stay here and…”

Laying a hand on the back of her head, he keeps a firm grip on her hair as he silences her with a kiss. The simple movement of closed mouth upon closed mouth; her hands slipping from his hips and coming to rest on his shoulders. Hearing -and feeling- the way she sighs into his mouth when he increases the intensity of the moment; tongue pushing its way past her lips and teeth and seeking out her own. Unable to remember a time that someone had such a profound effect on him; that animalistic list attraction that burns deep in the pit of your stomach and sets every single nerve on fire. A level of want and need that he’s never experienced before; someone that’s able to invoke such a carnal response with even the simplest of touches.

She returns the kiss with equal fervour. Perching herself on the tops of his feet in order to give her those extra couple of inches; arms circling his neck as her body leans into his. To be kissed like that; so deeply and intensely that your toes curl and your entire body aches and you feel every ounce of your soul being drained. No man -or woman for that matter- had ever inflicted such beautiful agony on her; as if she is being tasted and savoured and absolutely worshipped and adored. And when it’s over she’s swallowed by his embrace; strong and muscled arms wrapping tightly around her body. Eyes fluttering shut as she relishes every second of the closeness; the hardness of his chest and the warmth of his skin and his familiar smell. It’s heaven; being so comfortable with someone and so content when you’re in their presence. Knowing you’re capable of bringing out the sides they don’t let anyone see; the softness in their expression and the tenderness in their touch and a tone and a temperament to their voice that seems catered just to you.

“Gotta go into Broome today,” His hands once more slip under the hem of her shirt; knuckles proceeding to repeatedly skim up and down her spine. “Gotta get some food in this house.”

“What? You’re not going to go out with your bow and arrow or your spear and kill us a mess of something?” She chides. “You’re not going to go all savage and ruthless hunter on me?”

“I mean, I could. But something tells me you probably wouldn’t eat kangaroo. So…”

“I’d have nightmares. Forever. If you killed a kangaroo.”

“We gotta eat, don’t we?”

“As sexy as being able to provide for your woman is, lets stick to grocery stores, okay? Maybe we can go to that taco. You know the one that serves margaritas in fish bowls? I know you can’t indulge, but…”

“Baby, we can do whatever you want. We should make a day of it, yeah? Even grab a hotel room. Get groceries on our way back tomorrow. That way you can have as many of those margaritas as you want. And I don’t have to worry about you throwing up in my truck.”

“You just want to ply me with booze and take advantage of me. Get in my pants.”

A smirk plays on lips. “Esme, I don’t need any kind of help to do that.”

“I’ll give you that. You do seem to have a rather uncanny ability of getting me naked. You don’t even have to work at it. You just have to look at me a certain way and…”

“What way?”

“You know the way.” Her nails scratch at the nape of his neck and drag along the bottom of his hair. “That brooding, serious look you can give me from across a room and I become completely unhinged. Don’t act like you don’t realize the full extent of your power. I mean, look what you got me to do in Dhaka. I’d only be around you for a full day…”

“Don’t even try to act all innocent with me. You’re the one who hunted me down. A couple days before. In the hotel bar.”

“I did not hunt you down. I was not looking for you. We just happened to end up the same. A happy coincidence. That’s it.”

He stares pointedly down at her.

“Okay…okay….” She heaves a dramatic sigh. “Maybe I WAS looking for you. Maybe I did want to hang out. Maybe I did want…”

“A quickie in a bathroom stall.”

“What kind of girl do you think I am? I would not have been done for that. Not even you begged and pleaded with me.”

He smirks.

“Okay, maybe if you begged and pleaded. And I tried, remember? Outside my room? I propositioned you. YOU shot ME down.”

“I didn’t shoot you down. It's not that I didn’t want to sleep with you. I mean, you must have realized I was game.”

“Oh believe me, I realized it. The evidence was right there. Poking me. Trying to get my attention. And it was successful. Very successful. And then what did you do? You said no.”

“Does it make you feel better if I tell you I had to take a really cold shower after that?”

“A little. I hope you had shrinkage. Major shrinkage. Do you know what that did to my ego? My confidence? Being turned down like that?”

Dropping a kiss on her forehead, he runs his fingertips along the small of her back and then settles his palms on her hips. “For what it’s worth, “I wasn’t trying to kill your self esteem.”

“Well you did a damn good job.”

“I was trying to protect you. Same thing I was trying to do in Dhaka. By scaring you off. I just didn’t want us to get caught up in something and have me turn around and fuck it all up. And I wasn’t feeling like I only wanted a ‘just sex’ thing, so…”

“Tyler Rake…” A grin tugs at the corners of her mouth. “...are you admitting you already had the feels for me? You are, aren’t you. You’re actually admitting you didn’t just want to get your rocks off with me.”

“I’ve been nothing but honest about that. Since like…I don’t know…three days into things. Who’s idea was it? To travel together? After the job was done?”

“Yours.”

“Think I would have wanted to do that if it was just a sex thing?”

“I don’t know. Maybe the sex was just that good. Maybe it was so good that you couldn’t just cut me out of your life cold turkey. Maybe it was so good that…”

“As awesome as it was…as it IS…it wasn’t that. Or it wasn’t all that, at least.”

“So you ARE admitting it,” she teases; loving the blush that creeps into his cheeks. He’s such a breath of fresh air; a juxtaposition unlike anything she’s ever encountered. There’s a softness that lingers underneath his tough facade and beyond those tattered edges; a compassionate and gentle human being that despite all the hurt and agony he’s been dealt, still has the capacity to love so deeply. And maybe it’s testament to the level of trust that exists between them; making him comfortable enough to lower his guard and allow her to see the sides of himself no one else is privy to. “You did have the feels for me.”

“I was feeling something,” he admits, and slaps a hand against the cheek of her ass. “Below the waist,”

“I’m starting to know you so well. I knew you were going to do that. I knew you were going to make a perverted comment. You do that when you get uncomfortable; if we’re talking about things that make you a little nervous. It’s okay, you know. If you WERE feeling things that soon. I’ve always admitted I was.”

“That’s different though. You’re a woman. You’re supposed to feel things. Sooner and quicker…”

“Changing the subject and toxic masculinity all in the same conversation. I’ll break you yet, big bad mercenary man. I will get you to admit things. I’ll get you talk about the feels. Sooner or later. Preferably sooner.”

“You think you can get me to crack, huh?”

“I know I can.”

“Awful cocky for a munchkin, you know that?”

“I’ve already gotten a lot out of you. I just need a little more time.”

“You got your work cut out for you. You know that, yeah?”

“I know. But…” She shrugs. “...you’re more than worth it.”

The pink tinge to his cheeks increases. And when she laughs at the adorableness, he pulls her into another kiss; hands abandoning her hips in order to gently cradle her face. It’s less intense than before; his lips softer and not as demanding and forceful. But it’s still enough to take her breath away.

“You know….” Her palms slide across his shoulders and come to rest on his chest; fingertips tracing the various scars and tattoos that grace his flesh. “...I was thinking that seeing as we’re going to make a day of it and spend the night in Broome and there’s no reason to leave so early…” A nail draws a slow circle around one of his nipples. “...maybe we should go back to bed for a bit.”

“Back to bed, huh?” His hands once more descend; falling to her ass and firmly squeezing. “What if I’m not tired?”

“I’m talking about sleep. I’m talking about other things. Adult things. That requires both of us to be naked.”

“I was just thinking that you’re wearing too many clothes,” he chides, and she squeals when he effortlessly scoops her off her feet. And when his fingers pinch at the supple globes of her ass, she throws her head back and laughs; his teeth and tongue and lips immediately finding the hollow of her throat. “Way too many.”

“Guess you’re going to have to do something about that, aren’t you.”

“I’ve got a few things in mind. Gonna need a little cooperation from you, though.”

“I’m not going to put up a fight,” she assures him, and then sinks her teeth into one of his ear lobes. Loving the hitch to his brief and the shudder that passes through him. Then shrieking when he slaps her ass in retaliation. “That’s going to leave a mark!”

“Won’t be the first, won’t be the last. A man’s gotta mark his territory, yeah?”

“His territory, huh? What about me marking mine? Is that allowed too?”

“Allowed? It’s encouraged.”

“I’m going to stake my claim. Let every woman out there know that you’re off limits. He’s mine now, ladies. Sorry.”

“There’s no one but you. There will never be anyone but you.”

She blinks at his honesty. It’s the closest thing she’s heard to that simple yet powerful four letter word. But before she can respond, his lips are on hers; rough and savage and demanding. When his tongue pushes its way into her mouth, she can’t hold back the whimper that escapes her; completely at his mercy yet trusting him with every ounce of both body and soul.. And when he takes that first step towards the door, she wraps her arms around his neck and her legs around his torso. Feeling not just wanted and adored and worshipped, but safe and protected. His hold on her-despite his obvious desire and hunger- strong and stable. It’s something she never knew she needed to feel; safe and secure. Protected.

And it fills her with a confidence she hasn’t felt in a long time. If ever. A firm and unwavering belief that he’ll never let her fall.

*****

They lay in the midst of a sea of rumbled and tangled sheets; on their sides with her back against his front. It’s her favourite cuddling position; content with her role as the little spoon. A slight breeze rolls through the open windows; fluttering the curtains and riding their naked and spent bodies of the last beads of sweat. His arm stretches across her pillow and her head rests in the crook of his elbow; one of his legs draped over both of hers and their joined hands pressed against her stomach, his thumb continuously stroking soft, warm skin.

He enjoys these moments; the quietness that comes after sex. The closeness and the connection they share; feeling tied and bound to her in a way he’s never experienced with anyone before. And when he presses a kiss to the back of her head, she releases a long, content sigh and her hand tightens its grip on his.

“You know, I was thinking.” His thumb gently flicks at the silver hoop that decorates her navel. “Might be just a few more weeks. Until I can get back out there again.”

“To work, you mean.”

“I should be pretty close to a hundred percent by then. There shouldn’t be anything to hold me back.”

“We’re talking about the job, right? That’s the work you’re talking about going back to?”

“I don’t exactly have a back up gig, Me. Not like I have anything else to rely on. And there’s not much left in the bank; after paying off all the hospital bills and having to stay in Sydney for a couple months so I was close to the specialists. We can’t exactly live off the little we got left. Not for the rest of our lives, that’s for sure.”

“The job, though.” Another sigh. This one heavier. Troubled.

“You thought I was going to stay away foreveR? That I was just going to be able to find something else to do? It’s what I am. WHO I am.”

“It’s not who you are. It’s PART of who you are. And the thought of you going back to that…” Her voice trails off.

“You thought I wasn’t going to or…”

“I just wasn’t prepared for it, I guess. Maybe I didn’t realize how much time has actually passed. Or maybe…” She chews pensively on her bottom lip. “...I guess I wasn’t ready to hear that.”

“Esme…” Releasing his hold on her, he lays a palm on her cheek and gently turns her face towards him. “...what’s going on? Talk to me.”

“Like I said; I wasn’t ready to hear that yet. I guess I thought I’d more time. WE had more time. But I’ll support you. With whatever you want and whatever you decide to do. And if that’s the job…”

“Don’t do that. Don’t just brush it off. If it’s bothering you that much, let’s talk about it. Let’s come to some kind of decision. Let’s…”

“Do I really get a decision in this? Does what I want really matter? Does how I feel count? You’re a grown man, Tyler. I can’t…”

“Of course it matters. ALL of it matters. We’re in this together, aren’t we? Isn’t that what we said? Months ago? Esme and Tyler? Against the world? When did that change?”

“It hasn’t changed. It’s still that way. And that’s the way I want it to be. But I can’t tell you what to do. I can’t tell you not to go back.”

“Yeah, you could. If you don’t want me doing it…”

Sighing, she rolls onto her side to face him. “I went into this knowing who you were. I knew from the start you were a mercenary. And I’d heard all the stories; about all the jobs you’d been on and all the ass you kicked and all the horrible people you’d gotten rid of. I knew you were a legend; the one all the other mercs looked up to and talked about and wanted to be like.”

“I am from THAT. I don’t know what you heard or who you talked to, but…”

“You were like a ghost. The stories were all there. But only a few people ever saw you. They admire you, Tyler. All those other men. They know what you’re capable of. And so do I. Only difference is, I’ve seen it with my own two eyes. And that’s what scares me. Not the things YOU did. But the things that were done to YOU.”

“And the things you had to do. To get me off that bridge. If you hadn’t…”

“I didn’t do it because I had to. I did it because I wanted to. But this isn’t about me. Or about us, even. It’s about you. And what you’ve already been through.”

“You don’t think I’m capable? Of going back?”

“I KNOW you’re capable. And that’s what terrifies me. We barely knew each other. In Dhaka. And it killed me; almost losing you before I ever really had you. Now there’s six months between there and here. And there’s so much more between us. We’re both feeling it. We’re both experiencing it. If something was to happen to you now…”

“Nothing is going to happen. I’m not a rookie. I know what I’m doing. You need to trust me. If I didn’t think I could do this…”

“I do trust you. More than I ever trusted anyone in my entire life. But it still scares me. The thought of you going back. Even if I DID expect it.”

“If you don’t want me doing it. I won’t do it. If you want me to try something else…”

“This can’t be about what I want. It has to be about what we want. And most importantly, what YOU want. I don’t want to give you some kind of ultimatum and force you to make a decision you don’t want to make. I don’t want a couple years passing and you turning around and hating me for making you choose like that.”

“I could never hate you, Esme. Ever. Just say the word. If you don’t want me going back, I won’t. I mean, it won’t be easy; if I don’t return to the job. We’re going to have to make changes. A lot sooner than we planned. It’s not like there’s options out here. We’ll have to move into a bigger town. Or even a city. Where there’s more things I can look into.”

“Like what?”

“I don’t know. I could do construction. Road work. I could take work as a jail guard. I could do security. Join the fire department. There’s things I could do. We’d just have to make some changes. Move sooner than we thought.”

“We don’t exactly have the money for that. Moving is expensive and…”

“And I can ask Nik for money. She’d lend it to me. I’d pay her back as fast as I could. That’s no big deal. There’s ways around things. So if you don’t want me going back to the job…”

“I want you to be happy.”

“I am happy. With you. And if having a life with you means giving up being a mercenary, then I’ll do it. No questions asked. No hesitations. If you want me to be done with that life, just tell me. Please. Just be right up front about it.”

“I hate this. I hate having to make this kind of decision. I hate feeling like I’m forcing you into something you don’t want to do. It scares me; thinking you’re going to wake up one day and totally resent me for it.”

“Not gonna happen.”

“Maybe we can see how things go? Maybe you can go back and you can see how you feel about things? If you’re still comfortable with it? I can live with it; you being a mercenary. It’s what brought us together. I have no qualms about being with someone that does that sort of thing for a living.”

“But…”

“But I’m terrified. Of something happening to you. I’m worried, alright. I know you’re tough and big and strong and brave and…”

“I’m not brave, Esme. I’m far from it.”

“But I’m still worried. I’m still scared. That something bad will happen. And this time I won’t be there to help you.”

“I’ll tell you what…” Combs his fingers through her hair, then cups her cheek in his palm. “...I’ll go back. But I’ll keep things as light as I can. I’ll only take jobs that aren’t too crazy. Nothing too dangerous. Just simple stuff. Where there’s no real risk. The money won’t be as good, but it’ll be more than enough. For us to live and save up and make all those plans we made come true. Sound good?”

She nods.

“And if anything goes wrong or I don’t feel I can hack anything more strenuous or serious, then I’ll walk away. Just give me a little time, yeah? To see how it’s going to go? How I’m going to feel about things? Can you give me that? A little bit of time?”

Another nod.

“To be honest, I don’t know even know how I’m going to do. When it comes to going back. Maybe I’ll take a job and realize it’s not for me anymore. That my body just can’t take that kind of wear and tear. Wouldn’t be the end of the world; having to give it up and living a normal life. That would be kinda nice wouldn’t it? Having a normal life? Being shacked up with a guy with a regular job. Not someone that kills people for a living.”

“That's not all you do,” she gently argues, and brushes wayward strands of hair off his forehead and out of his eyes. “You help people. Get out of really horrible situations. Just sometimes while you’re doing that, you’ve got take other people out. You don’t kill because you want. You do it because you have to.”

“And because I’m getting paid damn good money to do it.”

“You’re not some kind of monster, Tyler. I know sometimes you feel that way about yourself. When it comes to the job and what happened with your son and the decision you made. But you’re not the piece of garbage you think you are. And one day, you’ll realize that.”

“You sound awful biassed right about now.”

“Maybe just a little bit. Maybe I tend to think highly about you. You know, considering I have a crush on you and all.”

He grins. “A crush, huh? So that’s what we’re calling it?”

“We haven’t really called it anything.”

“I didn’t think we needed to. I thought everything that’s been going on pretty much speaks for itself. Do we need to put a label on it? Is it important that we do?”

“No. But it’s just nice to know where I stand. In your life.”

“You’re naked. In my bed. I think it’s kinda obvious where you stand. Or lie, anyway.”

She smiles at that. “You know what I meant.”

“We’re here together, aren’t we? We went through what we did on the bridge and you stuck around and helped me get better. You never went back to Colorado. Not even to get your stuff. It’s been six months, yeah? And we haven't killed each other yet Seems obvious it’s pretty serious.”

“It does,” she agrees, and uses a fingertip to trace that scar that curves over the bridge of his nose. “I just wanted to make sure we’re on the same page here.”

“I think it’s pretty safe to say we are.” Pushing a hand through her hair, he gently cradles the back of her head in his palm and pulls her into a kiss. Long and soft and sweet; lips moving in harmony as naked limbs brush against wrinkled tangled sheets. And he rolls onto his back; bringing her much smaller and lighter body to rest upon his rest.

Neither speak for what seems like an eternity; not feeling the need to disturb the silence with needless and mindless chit chat. Her head upon his shoulder t as they listen to the combination of fluttering curtains and their slow, steady breath; her fingers laced with his and their joined hands resting upon his pillow.

“I’m going to have to figure out what I’m going to do,” she eventually muses. “I’ll need something to keep myself busy.”

Calloused fingertips softly stroke the top of her hand. “You’re not gonna go back?”

Shaking her head, she lays her forearm across his chest and places her chin upon it. “Dhaka just…I don’t know…destroyed me. It took everything out of me. I know it was only six days from start to finish, but it felt like a lifetime. Especially getting across the bridge. I don’t have anything left. To give to the job. And to be honest, even if I did? I still think I’d walk away.”

“I think it’s a good idea, actually. I don’t like the thought of you still being caught up in it. The thought of you going halfway around the world and not knowing if you’re okay or not…”

“Tyler Rake, you big softie,” she chides. “Are you saying you’d worry about me?”

“I worried about you when we barely knew each other. What do you think I’ll be like now?”

“Completely insufferable?”

He arches an eyebrow.

“I’m kidding. I think it’s beautiful; you admitting that you don’t like the idea of me going back. That you’d worry about me too much.”

“I don’t like the idea of being thousands of miles away. Not being able to protect you. If I was there…with you…that would be one thing. But not being able to take care of things? Take care of you? That doesn’t sit well with me.”

“You know, you’re awfully sexy when you’re being so honest. So transparent. Not that you’re not sexy ALL the time, but…”

“You said you wanted us to always be honest with each other. That you wanted someone that you could communicate well with. Well, here I am. Trying to communicate. I know I’m not always the best at it and sometimes I say or do dumb shit, but…”

“You’re doing just fine,” she assures him. “You’ve come a long way. And it’s only been half a year.”

Combing his fingers through her hair, he lifts his head from his pillow and presses a kiss to her brow. “So what do you think you want to do? Instead of the job? I mean, you’ll have a lot of options. You’ve got your degree, all kinds of experience….”

“I don’t know. I guess I’d have to really think about it. It’s not easy to make a career change. I’ll be thirty next month. I thought I’d be long established and settled by now.”

“Thirty is hardly old, Me. You’ve got a long life ahead of you still. And you know you don’t HAVE to work, right? Once the money from the job starts coming in…”

“As much as I appreciate the sentiment and your need to take care of me and provide for me, I need something. Something that is mine. Just for me. There’s got to be a lot of jobs out there I’d be qualified for. Or I could go back to school. Get another degree. Maybe teaching. Or nursing.”

“I already know you’d be good at that. Being a nurse. Look how good you took care of me. You were changing bandages, cleaning wounds up, you were making sure I was on top of meds and sleeping and eating right. Not to mention you give the best sponge baths. Ever.”

“You’re only saying that because your sponge baths always came with happy endings. Which, just so you know, I wouldn’t do for my ACTUAL patients.”

“I would hope the fuck not.”

“I guess we ARE going to have to move sooner than expected, huh? I can’t exactly find work or go back to school while living here. Right when I was enjoying it too. When we were really starting to turn this place into a home. I’m going to be sad. To leave it behind.”

“We could give it a few months. Half a year. Get some money banked away and then make a move. You don’t have to go back to work or school right away. Just take time off. Enjoy not doing anything. There’s nothing wrong with that.”

“Doing nothing DOES sound good. But when I think about it, I’ve been practically doing nothing for half a year.”

“Well make it a full year. We don’t have to jump into anything. Just take our time, yeah?”

Nodding in agreement, she presses a kiss chaste kiss to his lips.

“Whatever you want to do….” He loops her hair behind her ears and then cradles her face in his palms; thumbs skimming along the tops of her cheeks. “...I’ll support you. I got your back.”

“And I’ve got yours. You know that, right?”

“I think you more than proved it back on that bridge. If you hadn’t…”

“I don’t want to talk about that. It’s still so hard. Revisiting it. I wish I could say I’m ready to discuss it, but…”

“You’re going to have to eventually. You can’t keep doing this, Me. Just bottling it all up. I know what it’s doing. What it’s DONE. The anxiety, the panic attacks out of nowhere, the nightmares. I’m here with you. I’m the one seeing you go through it. And I don’t want you suffering like this.”

“ It’s all still too fresh. Too raw. I WILL talk about it. One day. Just not right now.”

“Esme…”

“I’m just not ready,” she stresses, then gives a shaky smile. “But I will be. I promise.”

“And I’ll be here,” he assures her. “I’m not going anywhere.”

“Where would you go? This IS your place.”

“OUR place,” he corrects, and wrapping an arm around her waist, effortlessly flips her onto her back. “Both of ours.”

“In that case, you better get on with that keeping the chicken out of the bathroom thing. It’s been half a year. We’ve put up walls. And a door. She still manages.”

Kneeling between her legs, he places a hand on either side of her head and leans down to kiss her. “She has a mind of her own. She does what she wants. Reminds me of another female in this house.”

“Well she better tow the line. I’m the boss now. So unless she wants to end up Sunday dinner…”

“You’d never.”

“All I’m saying is she better not tempt me. I’m the boss now. And it’s about time both you realize that.”

“Whatever helps you sleep at night. If you want to believe you wear the pants in the family…”

“I don’t believe anything. I KNOW it.” Curling a finger around the chain that dangles from his neck, she pulls him down into a kiss. “Now, get your sexy ass into the kitchen and make me something to eat. I’m hungry.”

“So am I…” He sits back on his heels and gently pushes her legs open. “...just not for food. Yet.”

“Despite what you think, Tyler, eating pussy is NOT a necessity.”

“The hell it isn't. It should be its own damn food group. Especially yours.”

“I love how you so slyly added that on the end. To butter me up. Get me to go along with your devious plan. I’m starving! Have mercy on me!”

“You can eat when I’m done. I’ll take care of you, Me. In whatever way you need me to.”

“I’m going to hold you to that.”

A shiver passes through when calloused fingertips travel up the backs of her legs, gliding over her calves and the sensitive spots at the back of both knees. It’s amazing; the things you learn about your own body when you’re with someone that takes the time to explore and discover. So many little magic places that had never been touched before; even the slightest amount of manipulation and teasing enough to set every nerve ending on fire. And when soft, warm lips meet the inside of one thigh, she releases a long, content sigh; eyes closing as her body arches off the bed.

She could get used to this.

#Tyler and Esme series #Esme Rake #Tyler Rake #Tyler Rake fan fiction #Extraction fan fiction #Chris Hemsworth #Tyler Rake fan fic #Extraction fan fic #Tyler Rake x OFC

[chickensarentcheap]

Lost and Found- Chapter 8

Fandom: Extraction

Pairing: Tyler Rake and Esme Drummond (established OFC. Although you do not need to read the others to understand this one)

Warnings: angst, mild profanity, 

Tagging:  @tragiclyhip @secretaryunpaid @youflickedtooharddamnit @thesirenrealm @residentdormouse @asirensrage @munstysmind @muchadoaboutcj @starryeyes2000 @karimac @arrthurpendragon @ocappreciationtag @occommunity @themaradaniels​

My tag list is OPEN. Just give me a shout if you’d like to added :)

Link to Ao3: https://archiveofourown.org/works/43179357/chapters/116371852

******

He arrives in New York City shortly after one pm; the owner of The Continental sending a chauffeured, bulletproof Lincoln Town Car to fetch him.

“Now is not the time to cheap out on security,” the driver had told him when he’d commented on how he could have just taken a cab; uncomfortable with the kind of treatment that comes with associating with the likes of those that work under The High Table. “People are watching. They are ALWAYS watching.”

The moment he steps foot in the hotel, he becomes the focus of attention; the eyes of both the politely curious and the disgusted and disdained following his every move. He ignores both the stares and the whispers as he confidently strides towards the front desk; the soles of his boots squeaking ever so slightly on the gleaming marble floods. He’s painfully out of place among the expensive Italian suits and designer labels; clad in well-worn blue jeans, and a blue, brown, and white long-sleeve plaid shirt over a white t-shirt under a beaten and tattered utility jacket. A simple, knitted black beanie covers his freshly shorn hair and a rucksack from his army days is slung over his right shoulder; enough clothes to last him a few days. IF they’re forced to say that long.

But despite his modest appearance and his long absence, he’s greeted by Charon’s warm, dark eyes and welcoming smile as he steps up to the concierge desk.

“Mister Rake. How nice to see you again. Welcome back. It’s been quite a while.”

“About ten years,” he confirms. “ See you’re still keeping the place running, huh?”

Charon chuckles. “I wouldn’t know about THAT. I merely answer the phones and book rooms and send people on their way. I’m hardly breaking a sweat. We have missed you. I know you were never a regular, but it was always nice to see you. To catch up. How are things ‘down under’?”

“Busy. And hot. Very hot. Things have been good here? I see the old place got a facelift. When did that happen?”

“About six years ago. But I assure you, she is still the same beautiful, graceful old lady.”

“You’ve got the same owner?”

“Same owner. “

Tyler reaches into his pocket for one of the gold coins that Yaz had given him before de-boarding the plane; placing it on the countertop and then sliding it towards the concierge.

Plucking the object up from the smooth, marble surface, Charon briefly inspects it for authenticity before slipping it into one of the pockets on his suit jacket. Then turns his attention to the computer in front of him, fingers flying over the keyboard. “I see we have you for three nights. Tentatively.”

“Depends on how things go. How fast we can get them off the ground. And how cleanly.”

“Of course, sir.” The other man produces a keycard from a drawer behind the desk, then holds it out in offering. “Room six fifteen. Should I announce your arrival?”

“Give me a few hours. Just to grab something to eat and some sleep. It was a hell of a long flight.”

“You will find a room service menu on the bedside table. All of the delicacies offered at our in-house restaurant can be delivered straight to your door. There are no restrictions. And our servers are at your beck and call; twenty-four hours a day, seven days a week.”

“I expect nothing less from this place.”

“Is there anything I could get sent upstairs for you? Something to drink? A bottle of scotch, perhaps?”

“I don’t touch the stuff anymore. Haven’t had a drop in almost five years. But thank you.”

“My pleasure, sir. If there’s anything you need, please do not hesitate to call the desk. And do let me know when you’d like me to tell Ms. Khan that you’ve arrived.”

Tyler smirks. “MS Khan, huh? Nik know you call her that?”

“She has expressed disdain at the title. Scolded me once or twice. But we pride ourselves on our professionalism here at The Continental.”

“Definitely a diamond in the rough. Almost makes me wish I’d not gone into the private sector. Might have enjoyed things a bit more had I gone this direction.”

“Be careful what you wish for. It’s not for everyone. It comes with its…how should I say?...downfalls. I think someone such as yourself does much better in an environment that’s not so…strict.”

“You calling me uncivilized, Charon?”

“Never, sir. Merely stating that the circles you travel in are not quite the same as the ones who come through these doors are known to frequent. And that while it’s always nice to see you, it’s also a good sign when we don’t, if you know what I mean.”

“I do. And I appreciate it. It’s nice to know someone wants me to have some peace and quiet. Stay out of trouble.”

“You have more than earned your rest, sir. And I must admit that after such a long absence, I was quite hopeful our paths would never cross again. A sign that life was treating you well. As it should.”

“Trouble always seems to find me. One way or another. Nature of the beast, yeah? Once you get in this life, you never really get out of it.”

“For your sake, I hope that isn’t true. That this is the last time I will be welcoming you. And it’s not because I don’t like you. It’s because I DO.”

“Well, you’re one of the select few. And for what it’s worth, you’re alright yourself.”

A smile tugs the corners of Charon’s mouth. “Coming from you, I take that as an utmost compliment. Are you certain there is nothing more I can do for you at this time?”

“We’re good. I’ll let you know. When I’m ready to meet with Nik.”

“I feel I should let you know that the owner would like to meet with you at some point. There are some things he’d like to discuss.”

“Is that just a friendly heads up or a warning?”

“Simply a professional courtesy. It’s been a pleasure, sir. A genuine one.”

“Believe me, Charon, after the last few years I’ve had, the pleasure is all mine.”

“Onwards and upwards, as they say. And as always, it IS good to see you again. We hope you enjoy your stay, Mister Rake.”

*****

Following two hours of sleep, a long hot shower, and a change of clothes, Nik greets him in the fifteenth-floor hallway; wrapping him in a warm embrace and then holding him at arm’s length. “You look good, Tyler. Healthy.”

“I FEEL good. Healthier than I have in a long time. Mind you, the jet lag will catch up sooner or later, but…”

“How was the flight? I know it’s kind of a long haul and…”

“It was boring. Uneventful. Do we really have to do this? The small talk We’ve known each other for a long time, Nik. I thought we were past all this by now.”

“Just trying to catch up. It’s been a while since I last saw you. And I have to say, I was hoping that the next time we DID meet up, it wasn’t because of business. I would rather it have been a social call, but…”

“I gave you my word. Years ago. That I’d be around to help out if you ever desperately needed it. And it sounds like you’re pretty damn desperate.”

“Like I said on the phone, the client won’t even hear about another merc. They’re insisting that you handle everything. And if I’m completely honest, you’re the one guy that I CAN put all my faith into and not regret it in the end.”

He nods in the direction of the door. “So what’s with all the secrecy? And don’t give me some bullshit about not calling me on a secure line. I know how strict you are with things. There was no way you were calling me on something that wasn’t safe. What aren’t you telling me?”

“It’s a delicate situation. One that needed to be handled face to face. I didn’t want to take the risk of telling you over the phone and having you turn the job down. I knew if I got you all the way here, the chances were pretty good that you weren’t going back to Australia empty-handed.”

“A good payday WOULD make the trip worthwhile. But I gotta admit; something doesn’t feel right. Whatever it is you’re not telling me…”

“It’s just…I don’t know…” Nik sighs and rakes a hand through her hair. “...complicated.”

“It’s always fucking complicated, isn’t it? Just who is this client? Why all the mystery? And who the hell did they piss off to find themselves in this kind of trouble?”

“It’s an employee of mine. An intel specialist I had working undercover. Infiltrating a local organized crime family.”

“The mob, you mean.”

“Extremely powerful and dangerous. With very deep roots. And a lot of skeletons in their closet. Not to mention the judges and lawyers and law officials they have in their back pockets. They have their fingers in a lot of pies. None of them good.”

“And this employee got busted?”

Nik nods. “Through no fault of their own. They’d been tied up with the family for eight months. and there’s even the slightest whimper of trouble. Four nights ago, I received an anonymous phone call that said my person’s cover was blown and all hell was going to break loose. The family was out for blood. And they were sending a small army to collect it.”

“Sounds like they’re not the type to handle failure very well. They know where you’ve got everyone hiding out?”

“Everyone knows The Continental is a safe haven. I doubt they’ll show up here. As tough as they are, even though they don’t want to piss off the High Table.”

“It’s the second we step out those doors that we’ll have a problem.”

“There’s a lot that needs to be worked out. A lot of planning we have to do. It isn’t going to be easy; getting them and yourself out of New York in one piece.”

“When is it ever easy? I didn’t come here thinking it would be a cakewalk. What I don’t understand is why anyone would get mixed up with people like that when they have a kid in tow. Why would a parent do that? Get caught up with dangerous people when they’ve got someone depending on them. The kid is innocent. They don’t deserve to be in the middle of all this.”

“I was the one who pressured them,” Nik admits. “Into taking the job. Just like you’re the perfect person for this, they were the perfect person for that. If anyone’s to blame, it’s me. You know how I can be pretty persuasive. Lean on people pretty heavily.”

“How much is the payout?”

“One million. Two fifty for the client, seven fifty for the little girl.”

“So the kid is my main priority.”

“As per the client’s wishes. They’re not concerned for their own well-being. Their biggest worry is getting the little one somewhere safe and keeping her alive and well. That’s it.”

“I’m not a babysitter, Nik. I’m not a nanny. What am I supposed to do with her when I get her there?”

“You were a father. You know how to take care of a kid. I know you haven’t dipped your toes in that particular pool for a while, but I imagine it’s like riding a bike.”

Sighing heavily, he leans back against the wall; eyes briefly closing as he pinches the bridge of his nose between thumb and forefinger.

“Tyler, if you’re not up to this…”

“I’m here, aren’t I? I wouldn’t have come all this way if I wasn’t up to it. I’m just tired. It’s a hell of a flight from home to here. Just need more sleep. Before jet lag gets even worse. Or better yet, maybe someone can just pour some coffee into one of those IV bags and hook the fucker right up to my arm.”

“After the team meeting later, you’ll be able to get some reason. That’s all that’s on the schedule for today. We’ve got four days here. We should only need two to plan everything out. I’ve planned bigger and more dangerous things in less time.”

“So what am I walking into now? If we’re not all getting together yet, why’d you ask me to come down here? Why…?”

“I think you and the client should have some ‘one-on-one time’. Meet, feel each other out, see if you vibe. If it’s not a good fit, I’ve still got time to bring in someone else. I know it’s not how we usually do things, but this is…” She chooses her words carefully. “...very special circumstances.”

“Because of the age of the kid and all. I get it. I didn’t want her getting freaked out. Some big, beat-up-looking guy getting too close to her and her mum. Besides, aren’t kids usually really good judges of character or something like that? Guess she’s the one I need to win over, huh?”

“Just go in there with an open mind,” Nik encourages. “Just put all your reservations and your judgements and opinions aside. On the whole dragging your kid into the job thing. They need you, Tyler. And part of that is needing you to be as gentle and patient as you possibly can. Like I said…”

“Special circumstances.”

She nods and then turns towards the door; pausing before reaching for the handle. “Are you sure you’re up to this?”

“I wouldn’t have come all this way if I wasn’t sure. I gave my word, didn’t I? To you. To them.”

“Circumstances CAN change. If you’re having reservations…”

“I’m in,” he assures her. “I am ALL in.”

*******

While Nik steps out of the room to fetch the client, Tyler surveys his surroundings. The suite is far more opulent than anything he’s spent time in The Continental; one of a handful of three-bedroom apartments that take up the entire top floor of the hotel. The walls are made of rich and glistening mahogany; bearing incredibly detailed carvings of flowers and trees, stretching upwards to meet the intricate cove ceiling. And the carpet is thick and plush beneath the soles of his combat boots; forest green interspersed with tiny flecks of orange and gold.

The whole place reeks of power and influence. Its fully stocked bar with only top-shelf liquor; accompanied by shelves of crystal highball glasses and long-stemmed champagne flutes. Leather couches and chairs with their brocaded throw pillows; vibrant golds and oranges lending much-needed color to the room. A marble globe and ivory chess set sit in one corner; a lone occupant leaving behind the stump of a cigar and half a glass of whiskey when they had departed. A state-of-the-art television mounted to one wall and an aquarium -full of brightly coloured fish- inlaid in another; the bubbling and humming of the filtration system the only noise disturbing the silence. And the lone picture window, giving a stunning view of New York City. With its congested traffic and its towering structures and the shimmering harbor in the distance.

He stands in front of it now. Hands stuffed in the pockets of his jeans as he studies the horizon; mesmerized by the way the sun bounces off towers of steel and glass. It’s been years since he last stepped foot in New York City; a rare -yet extremely lucrative- North American gig that Nik had approached him during his first few months on the job. A gig that had required a little more class; a fresh shave and a fancy suit and mingling with those that inhabit the upper tier of society. His path crossing with many interesting and questionable people; corrupt politicians and crooked members of law enforcement, young socialites with their much older -and extremely wealthy- husbands.

And one infamous and widely feared hitman that was as heartbroken and damaged as he was.

“Tyler?”

It’s soft. Almost timid. And he turns purely on instinct; not leaving any time for the voice to register. His chest and throat immediately tightening; his mouth suddenly painfully dry and his eyes wide with disbelief.

It’s been five years but at that moment, they’re still standing in the kitchen of that old shack in The Kimberley. The one with the rusted tin roof and the creaky, uneven floors, and the pipes that groaned and shook whenever you took a shower. Back when they didn't have much but they were happy; healthy and healing and planning for the future. TOGETHER.

And when he finally manages to speak, it comes out as barely a whisper.

“Esme?”

*******

Her entire body trembles with anxiety; sweat gathers at the nape of her neck and her palms are suddenly cold and clammy. It’s all so much. Not just the tremendous guilt and regret she’s carried all this time, but a staggering amount of love, adoration and attraction. Still as overwhelming as it was nearly five years ago; in that hotel room in Dhaka when she’d finally allowed herself to trust and want and need again. Since the moment she’d walked out the door, she’s spent hours dreaming about this moment; the things she’d feel and how she’d react when they finally got the chance to come face to face again. How would his voice sound to her ears? What would his skin feel like under her fingertips? Would he still smell the same? That crisp and clean scent that always clung to hair and clothes; reminding her of safety and home and all of the other beautiful things he’d brought to her life. She had never once entertained the thought that it would be the job that would cause their paths to cross once more; always holding onto the thought that she’d simply show up on his doorstep, their daughter in tow. Never here. Shrouded in secrecy behind The Continental’s four walls.

“Tyler.” It’s all she can manage; her hands nervously fidgeting with the hem of her blouse, her feet rooted to the floor as she takes in his expression. Shock and bewilderment; the deep furrows in his brow, his wide, disbelieving eyes, and his ragged breathing.

He carries more weight now; his face is fuller and neck thicker, and his shoulders and chest broader. The gray in his hair is more prominent; littering his beard and congregating around his ears, at his temples, and along the bottom of his hairline. There are more lines on his forehead and by the corners of his mouth and around his eyes; the latter not as vibrant as she remembered. Life hasn’t been easy or kind to him; an ongoing struggle to keep his sobriety, the stresses of balancing his firefighting career with not only his home reno business, but the favors that Nik still calls in. It’s his lingering connection to ‘the game’ that has seen more scars added to his collection; tarnishing the skin by the corner of his right eye and the underside of his chin. And one that travels from under his left ear lobe and snakes its way down his jaw.

But he’s still very much Tyler; his scent and his voice familiar.

She attempts a smile; tearful and shaky. “Long time no see.”

“It’s been a while.”

He takes a hesitant first step; arms loose at his side and his hands unclenched. Not wishing to scare or intimidate; sending a clear message that despite how things had ended and how he’d both grieved and raged, he poses no threat. Feeling the abrupt change in himself; the peeling away of the layers of worry that had burdened both heart and shoulders. Many times he’d wondered if she were still alive; if she’d been taken against her will and had simply been unable to contact him before meeting her untimely demise. He’d have nightmares based around the scenario; masked men doing vile and demeaning things to her before killing her in the most brutal, bloody ways possible. And he’d spend days afterwards wallowing in guilt; hating himself because it was easier to accept her death than it was the thought of her leaving him for someone else.

“You’re the client?”

Esme nods

He closes the gap between them; bewilderment turning to concern as he studies the fresh injuries that mar her face. And it’s as if he’s operating on auto-pilot; reaching out to gently explore the blemishes that peek through her makeup. His fingertips slowly passing over every bruise and cut; eyes darkening as concern turns to anger. All these years later…despite all the hurt and the heartbreak…he still possesses a softness towards her; a tender and patient side that she had managed to unearth shortly after they met. He hasn’t shown or revisited since she walked out of his life; closing himself off emotionally and not finding that same level of comfort and trust that had existed between them.

Her eyes close; both body and mind are comforted by his touch. A moment that is so pure and beautiful that it takes her breath away; her head swimming and her cheeks flushed, and her knees weak. She had missed his touch; heart and body both experiencing an unbearable ache whenever she recalled what it was like to be loved… physically…by him. Not just the sexual encounters but the moments of more innocent and subdued intimacy. The feel of rough calluses against soft skin, the repeated brush of his knuckles along her spine, the tenderness displayed by large, powerful hands as they soaped and rinsed her body or scrubbed at her hair. Such a juxtaposition; the softness that could linger inside such an enormous man. Despite his painful back story and all the trauma he’d endured and the things he’d seen and done in combat and on the job, he’d still had so much humanity inside of him; a love and a tenderness that not even the harshest and most brutal of circumstances could completely erase.

“Who did this to you?” His fingertips brush over both the swelling and discolouration that have taken up residence under her left eye.

The need to protect is far greater than any of the negative he’s ever experienced; quickly pushing aside all of the hurt and sadness and long-simmering anger. They’ll return to the forefront eventually; thoughts returning to the year spent looking for her and the countless dead ends he’d encountered and all the horrible scenarios he’d entertained. He’ll want and demand answers; something…anything… that will finally put an end to all the questions and the wondering. And he’ll somehow accept and cope with her explanation even if it does sting like hell to hear.

“Bad people. Very bad people.”

His palm cradles her cheek; the pad of his thumb brushing across her lips. “Are you okay?”

Shaking her head, she peers up at him; unable to control the tears that well in her eyes. “I need your help.”

“When Nik said someone called demanding me, this is NOT what I was expecting. Why didn’t you get a hold of me yourself? Why…?”

“I wasn’t sure you’d even take my call. Or that if you did answer, you’d hear my voice and just hang up. I was scared, I guess; I thought I was probably the last person you’d want to hear from.”

“I’ve only been wanting to hear from you every day for the last five years.”

She blinks at his honesty. His tone neither harsh nor condescending, but instead tinged by the various emotions that come with both deep hurt and lingering affection. “Tyler, I…”

“What happened? Why DO you need me?”

“What has Nik told you?”

“That you were working a job. Something to do with organized crime. Your cover got blown somehow. Is that who did this to you?” His fingertips briefly come in contact with an abrasion on the right side of her forehead; stretching from her hairline to the top of her eyebrow. “Your mark?”

“I’m not sure WHO it was, exactly. People employed by his family, I’m assuming. It’s all so twisted and complicated…”

“Twisted and complicated come hand in hand with the job.”

“It’s a long story; how I got tied up in things. Nik needed someone that could get inside the family; get close enough to hear all the dirty secrets. And everything was going great. I’d been in there for almost eight months and there’d been any sign of trouble. I was SO careful. You know me; I never take unnecessary risks and I always watch my back. If I’d felt anything was off whatsoever…”

“So what happened? Nik said something about information getting leaked and people showing up at the house and…”

“She got a phone call. From an informant. That I’d been figured out. I don’t know if someone saw me with the family and recognized me from when I’d done business in New City before, but…”

“But all hell broke loose.”

“They brought a small army with them. A heavily armed one at that. And if it hadn’t been for Nik getting a team together to get us out of there…”

He frowns. “Us? Who’s us?”

“That’s where it gets even more twisted. And complicated. It’s something you and I really need to talk about. Before we get any further into the business side of things. It’s why I asked Nik to keep her distance; give us a chance to talk to each other in private. There’s a little…I don’t know how to say this…”

“She talked about ‘fragile contents’. And that’s code language for only one thing. There’s a kid involved. Somehow. Yours?”

“And yours.”

His eyes narrow; a scowl tugging at the corners of his mouth. “And mine? What…?”

“I didn’t know about the baby. Not until two weeks after I got here. I wanted to tell you. I wanted to call you right away; I wanted you to be here. But I had to protect both of you and…”

“Wait…wait…” He’s unable to contain the nervous chuckle. “A baby? MY baby?”

“She’s so beautiful, Tyler. She’s beautiful and she’s perfect and she is everything amazing inside both of us. And when you meet her, you’re just going to fall in love with her. I know you will. She is so much like you. From head to toe. She even has your smile and your laugh and all of your facial expressions. It’s like there’s nothing of me whatsoever inside of her. Like I was just the incubator and….” Her face flushes; cheeks feeling impossibly hot as she chews on her bottom lip to stop herself from rambling. “I’m sorry. I am so sorry. That you had to find out this way. This is the last thing I wanted. I had it all planned. How once I was done with this job, I’d take her to Australia and we’d get a hold of you and…”

The door of the suite unexpectedly and Millie rushes in. Her thick, dirty blond hair worn loose and tumbling down to the middle of her back; still damp from the time spent in the indoor pool with Abuela. Her long and lanky frame clad only in a bubble gum pink swimsuit adorned tiny, sparkling silver unicorns. And as she hurries towards her mother, she nearly trips several times over the bottom of the beach towel slung around her shoulders.

“Momma!” She wraps her arms around Esme’s thighs; eyes closing and a content sigh escaping her lips as she squeezes as tight as she can. “I missed you!”

Esme struggles in vain to disguise the nervousness in her voice; feeling the full weight of Tyler’s stare upon her. It’s a mixture of shock, hurt, and betrayal; the reality that the little one being scooped up into her mother’s arms is indeed his. There’s no way he could possibly deny it; Millie bears a striking resemblance to him. Hair color and texture, the long limbs and torso, the brilliant blue eyes, the same nose and jaw structure. “You weren’t even gone that long, sweets. Not even a couple of hours. And you still missed me?”

“I always miss you, mom. Even if it’s just ten minutes.”

“Well, I missed you, too. Nap time isn’t the same without my all time favorite cuddle buddy.” She showers Millie’s forehead and cheeks with kisses before placing her on the ground. “Can you do me a favor? Can you go and…?”

“Hi!” The four-year-old chirps; flashing her toothiest smile as she peers up at Tyler; intrigued by his sheer size and the tattoos that grace his skin. “I’m Millie! Well, my name is really Amelia, but I tell everyone to call me Millie. I think it sounds better. Who are you? What’s your name?”

He swallows noisily; barely able to force the word past his lips. “Tyler.”

“Are you a friend of mom’s?”

“I guess you could say that.”

“Millie…” Esme drops a kiss on the top of her head and then places her hands on her shoulders, attempting to gently steer her away “...why don’t you go and take off your swimsuit and wait for me in the bathroom. I’ll be in in a couple of minutes. Give you a bath and get all that chlorine off of you.”

“Are you here to help?” Millie inquires, as she steps closer to Tyler; the tips of her toes pressed against his boots; head tipping back as far as it possibly goes to ‘size him up’. “Are you going to get us away from the bad guys?”

“I’m going to try, yeah.”

“You’re really big.”

Esme reaches for her; embarrassed by the peppering of questions and comments. “Amelia…”

He manages a grin. “Maybe you’re just really small.”

“Uh-uh. I’m normal size. You’re a giant! Are you like ten feet tall?”

“Six feet. And a couple inches.”

“I like that picture. On your neck. It’s cool. What’s it supposed to be?”

“Tattoo,” Esme gently corrects. “They’re called tattoos.”

“Where’d you get it? In jail?”

“Amelia,” her mother scolds. “What in the world…”

“In the army, actually,” Tyler informs her. “A long time ago.”

“The army? You were like GI Joe?! I can see it. You’re really tall and it looks like you got really big muscles. Do you? Have really big muscles? Momma likes guys with really big muscles. Which is why I don’t get why she was with Alessio. He looks like a wimp. Really small muscles. Not like you. You look really strong. I bet the bad guys never mess with you. You got a girlfriend?”

“Not really, no.”

“She is way too nosey for her own good” Esme offers in a way of apology. “She thinks everyone she meets is automatically her friend and that she can ask a million and one questions and…”

“But he IS my friend, mom,” Millie informs her. “If he’s a friend of yours and he’s here to help with the bad guys…”

“I am so sorry,” Abuela gives a sheepish smile as she hurries into the room; using the towel around her neck to vigorously dry her hair. “She is so fast! And sneaky! Took off as soon as those elevator doors opened. You little miss…” Tousling Millie’s hair, she gently takes her by the shoulders. “...are coming with me. We’ll get you a nice warm bath and some comfy clothes and then decide what we’re going to have for dinner.”

“But I was talking to Tyler! He’s my friend. Why can’t I…?”

“Your mom was talking to him first. We interrupted. Come on, let’s go and get cleaned up. Sooner we do that, sooner we get to eat! Which means we get closer to having ice cream for dessert!”

“Ice cream is my favorite!” Millie gushes, addressing Tyler. “Do you like ice cream? What’s your favorite kind? Mine is mint chocolate chip.”

“That’s my favorite too.”

Millie gasps; eyes wide as she excitedly takes one of his hands on both of hers. “Really? Is it REALLY your favorite? You’re not just saying that?”

“It’s really my favorite.”

“We just became best friends! Besties! Maybe you come with us. To get ice cream! But we can’t have any until after dinner. Are you hungry? You come with us if you want. We don’t mind, right Abuela?”

“I got a lot of stuff going on right now, but maybe we can get ice cream some other time,” Tyler suggests and tentatively reaches out; fingertips clearing damp strands of hair off her forehead and looping others behind her ears. Wanting…needing…to touch her; as if requiring proof that she is actually real and standing right in front of him. It’s a surreal, mind and body-numbing experience; unable to control his movements and his brain struggling to get a firm grasp on this new reality. Trying to accept that after all of the heartbreak following his son’s death and those dark and troubled days filled with grief, guilt, and regrets, he’s suddenly a father again.

Millie keeps a tight hold on his hand; blue eyes sparkling with excitement. “Like an ice cream date?”

“Sure, we can call it that. I mean, if your mum’s alright with it.”

He offers Esme a shaky smile; feeling a potent, confusing mix of not only love and adoration, but hurt and anger. The last thing he wants is to harbor and feed into the latter; he sees the deep furrows of concern that crease her brow and the tears of remorse that prick her eyes. She IS the love of his life; all of those emotions and all of the attraction are still as strong as they had been five years ago. But a deeper layer has been added to both their lives; an even stronger, more permanent bond than the one they’d previously shared. She is now the mother of his child; they’d managed to create an incredible little human together.

The corners of her mouth turn up in a small smile of her own. It’s so hard; so goddamn hard. For everyone involved. There’s no way life has been easy for her; going through a pregnancy alone and then living the past four years as a single mother. But she’s obviously done right by their daughter. Millie is happy and healthy; an intelligent, free spirit that is the center of her mother’s universe.

“That sounds like a great idea,” she muses. “I’d like it if the two of you hung out together.”

“It’s a date!” Millie squeals. “I’ll even wear one of my new dresses! And get Abeula to do my hair all pretty. Ribbons and stuff. You’ll do that, right Abuela?”

“I will. But first thing is first…” She scoops Millie up into her arms. “...cleaning you up! And figuring out what we want to have for dinner. I can hear your tummy just grumbling away. Sounds like an angry bear!”

“I’m starving,” the four-year-old declares. “I’m so hungry, I could eat the ass out of a dead hippopotamus!”

“Amelia!” Esme scolds. “Excuse you?!”

She gives a sheepish grin. “Sorry, mom. I could eat the BUTT out of a dead hippopotamus! Bye, Tyler!” She waves enthusiastically as Abeula carries her through the room. “Maybe we can have our ice cream date tomorrow!”

“I’ll talk to your mum. Make plans.”

“And you don’t have to dress up if you don’t want to, but I’m going to wear my prettiest, frilliest dress. Just for you!”

He returns a final wave with one of his own; a smile tugs at the corners of his mouth as he watches and listens to her as she goes. Excitedly and incessantly chattering about their upcoming ‘date’ and the various dishes in the hotel restaurant that are her favorites. And it’s when she disappears out of sight that the pain returns; a profound sadness mixed with rage.

“Tyler…” Esme hesitantly begins; reaching out to lay a comforting hand on his bicep. “I’m so sorry. I never…”

His eyes narrow; tone menacing as he regards her angrily and yanks his arm away from her. “How could you do this? Keep her from me? How could you…”

“I didn’t do it to hurt you. I wasn’t trying to keep her away from you. Believe me, I wanted us to be together. I wanted us to be a family. But…”

“Four years, Esme. I’ve been a dad for FOUR YEARS and you didn’t even tell me. After everything we talked about. About how we were going to settle down and start a family and have a normal life. I gave you EVERYTHING I had of myself. And I would’ve given you even more if I could have.”

“I know. I know you would have. And I didn’t leave because I didn’t love you, Tyler. I left you because I did.”

“You know, for five years that’s all I cared about. It was the worst thing that ever happened; losing you and not knowing WHY. Constantly wondering what the fuck I did wrong that made you walk away.”

“You didn’t do ANYTHING. You were everything I ever wanted. I didn’t want to leave you. I just didn’t have a choice.”

“So someone dragged you out, kicking and screaming? Held a gun to your head?”

“No. But they would have. If I didn’t leave, I would have brought nothing but horrible shit to your doorstep. That you wouldn’t have survived. And I couldn’t do that to you. I couldn’t lose you. Not like that. I had to walk away. To save you.”

“You know what? Suddenly why you left isn’t even my biggest concern anymore. It’s why you keep her…our daughter…MY daughter…a secret from me. How could you do that? You knew I wanted to be a dad again. Despite the fact, it scared the shit out of me. I was fucking terrified but I still wanted that experience again. And I wanted it with YOU.”

“I couldn’t tell you. When I found out. I was in the middle of something really scary and horrible and getting in touch with you would have just put you in danger. And I didn’t want that. That's why I left in the first place.”

“What about after? When whatever was going on settled down? Why didn’t you contact me then? Tell me about her? Because I would have been on the next flight. To BOTH of you.”

“I was afraid. That you’d be so angry at me for leaving that you wouldn’t want anything to do with her. And I couldn’t handle that. If you decided not to claim her. I just couldn’t.”

“I would have NEVER done that to you. Or to her. I wanted a family with you. I wanted a kid. You knew THAT.”

“I don’t know what you want me to say. I’m sorry? I made a mistake? Because believe me, it was the worst mistake of my life and I have regretted every single second since I left. I really wish things could have been different. That I’d been given any other choice. But leaving was the best thing. Especially for you.”

“There is nothing you can say that will ever make all of this make sense. How could you do this to me? After everything we went through. All the times I spilled my fucking guts to you. The way I turned my entire life around so I could be the man you wanted. That you DESERVED. How could you fuck me over like this? Keep her from me?”

“If you’d just let me explain. If we could sit down and talk about this. Rationally. If we can just push the anger aside for even just a little bit. I know I have a lot of explaining to do. A lot of apologizing. But if you’d just give me the chance…”

“I can barely even look at you right now. How the hell am I supposed to sit and talk about things RATIONALLY?”

“Once you’ve been able to digest everything. To just calm down even just a little bit. That’s all I’m asking for, Tyler. Just a chance. To explain my side. Please? If not for me, for Millie. Because she deserves to know you. And if you just walk away…”

“I might be pissed, but that doesn’t mean I’m going to walk away. I’m here, yeah? I didn’t take off as soon as I saw you, did I? I stuck around. Do you honestly think I’d leave? After finding out about her? Do you think that little of me?”

“I’ve NEVER thought little of you. EVER. I was the one who believed in you, Tyler. I was the one who took the chance. When no one else would. I was the one who SAW you. The real you. All the rusted and broken parts and everything beautiful that still existed inside of you. Everything we went through…everything you came with…I STILL wanted you.”

“What do you want me to say? Thank you? For not looking at me like everyone else did? Like some huge piece of shit?”

“I want you to realize it isn’t just black and white. Why I left. I know you, Tyler. I know how smart you are. How well you read people. Can you honestly look me in the eye and tell me that I’m lying to you? About how I felt? About what I wanted? About why I left? Can you do that? Look me dead in the eye and tell me you can’t tell I’m being sincere?”

His eyes focus on hers; cold and calculated blue at war with rich, apologetic brown. Despite the hurt and the anger, he still SEES her; his most loyal confidant, biggest cheerleader, the best friend he’s ever had, and the love of his life. It’s all there; the affection and the adoration and the lust. His pride doesn’t want to feel those things; he wants to wallow in his misery and blame her for his trouble out of sheer spite. But it’s impossible.

“No,” Tyler admits. “I can’t.”

“Can we please talk? Later? After all the business stuff is done for the day? I’m not asking for much. Just a chance to explain my side. That’s it.”

He nods in agreement and reaches out once more, skimming his knuckles along her bruised cheek. It’s so conflicting; needing and loving someone that much yet wanting nothing more than to rant, rave, and air your grievances. And he opens his mouth to speak; intending to comfort and offer reassurances that everything -at least in regards to the job- is going to be okay. But is interrupted by Nik suddenly appearing in the doorway; drumming her fingernails against the wood and noisily clearing her throat.

“We need to get the show on the road. Winston’s held the main conference room for us. We’re all going to meet down there. I can give you guys a few more minutes but…”

“We’re done here.” His tone is harsher than he intended, and when he notices her blink and physically recoil, he gives Esme a comforting smile. “At least for now.”

#Tyler and Esme series #Extraction #Extraction 2 #Tyler Rake #Tyler Rake fan fiction #Extraction fan fiction #Tyler Rake x OFC #Chris Hemsworth #Tyler Rake fan fic #Extraction fan fic #Chris Hemsworth Extraction

[chickensarentcheap]

Lost and Found - Chapter Two

Fandom: Extraction

Pairing: Tyler Rake and Esme Drummond  (established OFC. Although you can just read this one and know what’s going on)

Warnings: profanity, very brief mentions of kinks (choking, hair pulling, anal), mentions of drug and alcohol abuse, brief mentions of domestic abuse

Tagging: @asirensrage, @residentdormouse, @munstysmind, @themaradaniels, @tragiclyhip, @secretaryunpaid, @starryeyes2000, @youflickedtooharddamnit, @arrthurpendragon, @ocappreciationtag​, @occommunity

Link to Ao3: https://archiveofourown.org/works/43179357/chapters/110304306

TAG LIST IS OPEN!

(Why not have two headers? Am I right?)

He steals glimpses at her as he drives.  Clad in a simple blank tank and a pair of tiny denim shorts;  legs bent at the knee and her bare feet perched on her seat.  An open copy of Cosmopolitan rests against her bare thighs as she chews absentmindedly on her bottom lip;  eyes hidden by a pair of aviator shades with vibrant purple lenses.  He remembers when she’d bought them; a day trip into Broome shortly after they began the renos on the shack and they’d needed a break from the chaos.  He hadn’t been out of rehab for that long and had still been feeling the random and unexpected pangs of addiction; random moments of desperately needing even the smallest sip of booze or the high that a handful of Oxy would supply.  His mood had been all over at the time;  feeling weak for wanting to succumb to his demons yet angry that he didn’t have access to his favourite forms of escape.  And she was always the one he took it out on;  barking at her over the smallest disagreements and almost ripping her head off at even the most simple of frustrations.  Yet she’d never returned his anger with some of her own; understanding the difficulties that came with battling addiction and knowing that the demons -when in control- didn’t allow him to see things rationally and logically.   

They had stopped at one of the stores in the downtown core and she’d tried the shades on.  Turning to him with her head cocked to the side and a hand planted firmly on her hip;  looking up at him as she asked if they were ‘her’.   She’d been so cute;  those sun kissed cheeks and sunburned nose and that brilliant smile.  Her ponytail swaying from side to side as she bounced up and down on her heels,  anxiously awaiting his answer.   He’d teased her about the colour;  declaring he’d one day come home and she’d have the entire damn house done in various shades of purple.   And when she’d stuck her tongue out and swatted his ass in response, he hadn’t been able to hold back the smile;  grateful that she wasn’t taking his moodiness personally and feeling thankful for the moments of lightness and levity that she always seemed to bring to his life.

Even then…so early in their relationship…he’d known just how lucky he was.  Hell, he’d known that the second she put one foot into his life, unexpectedly showing up on his doorstep and unknowingly beginning the process of turning his entire world upside down.     While their introduction had been brief and there’d been an initial awkwardness to their  ‘getting to know you’ chat in his kitchen, he’d found himself intrigued by her. Easily drawn to the walking contradiction before him;   the juxtaposition between the weakness and vulnerability he’d perceived,   and the quiet, unassuming confidence that she exuded.  Unlike Nik who would always wander the place and shake her head and grumble under her breath about the ‘state of things’, Esme  hadn’t even noticed the large assortment of empty whiskey and beer bottles that littered the counters.  Or  the vials of Oxycontin that all but spilled out onto the table top.  And if she had, she hadn’t acknowledged them;  instead indulging in small talk about the heat and his dog as she leaned back against the sink with her arms crossed over her chest.  Flashing that killer smile as she graciously accepted the offer of a drink and noticing -for the second time in less than ten minutes-  that little spark of…something… that flooded through him when their fingertips briefly touched.    

He had tried to convince himself that he was imagining things.   Shit like that didn’t really exist; an immediate connection and attraction between two people only ever seen in movies or  heard of in storybooks. That  even if it WAS possible, it  certainly didn’t  happen to guys like him;  an alcoholic mercenary with an addiction to painkillers and a relentless death wish.   Someone like her wouldn’t give him a time of day;  a well educated and seemingly well adjusted woman would need -and deserve- someone that could provide her with more stability.   A partner that could give her the attention and adoration that she deserved; someone solid and dependable that didn’t come with mountains of baggage and a host of ghosts and demons continuously haunting them.  

 Yet while he’d been adamant to ignore what he’d felt and experienced during their short time together, he hadn’t been able to stop thinking about her;  embarrassed by just how much he was looking forward to seeing her again.  And finding himself -completely sober and lucid- laying in bed that night replaying their meeting; that brilliant smile and infectious laugh and the way those huge dark eyes had  sparkled up at him.  Allowing himself to venture even further; wading into dangerous territory as he recalled the way one of the straps of her tank top continuously slipped off her shoulder. And how perfectly those little jean shorts had fit. Accentuating the curves of her ass and showing off the elaborate and colourful tattoo that began at the top of her right foot; snaking up and  around her leg and ending at the back of her knee.  

Even now he feels the embarrassment; recalling how even the smallest of things had driven him completely insane and he’d found himself -desperate and alone- pleasuring himself the thought of her.  His imagination running wild;  how that little body would feel against his and how incredible being buried deep inside her would be.  What her skin would feel like and how she’d taste and how his name would sound coming out of her mouth;  a mixture of sighs and whimpers and screams.  Indulging in the thought of noises she’d make when his head was between her thighs;   her hands tightly gripping his hair and her body arching off the bed as he tormented her with fingers and tongue.   And he’s certainly never confessed to what he’d done;   feeling pathetic and ashamed that he’d allowed himself to get that caught up in someone he barely knew.  

It had been impossible to control;  sexual and the intellectual attraction coming together to make one hell of  powerful aphrodisiac. With less than twenty-four hours remaining before the start of the mission, things began to quickly unravel;  Esme successfully  tracking him down in the hotel bar after a day of team meetings and strategic planning.  Capturing his attention as she paused in the doorway of the busy establishment;  hands on her hips as she chewed on her bottom lip and her  eyes scanned the crowd.    Despite being a notorious introvert that preferred a life of loneliness and solitude, he’d experienced a rush like nothing he’d ever felt before;  a powerful mix of hope and anticipation and nervousness.  Desperately wanting to be the one she was looking for;  anxious to be alone in her company instead of surrounded by the prying eyes and ears of the rest of the team.   She’d beamed when she’d finally spotted him;  a smile that accentuated her chubby cheeks and crinkled the bridge of her nose and the corners of her eyes.  Then she’d given a tiny wave and a little bounce of the heels before heading in his direction; weaving her way through the sea of people and ignoring the countless offers of dinner and drinks tossed her way.  

And fuck, that body. The one he’d fantasized about only thirty six hours before.  A welcome and mouth watering sight; on display in a denim skirt that fit like a second skin and a tattered and worn Led Zeppelin t-shirt cut just above the navel. The thin, loose fabric slipping off her shoulders and giving a sneak peek at the thin straps of her black lace bra.   That alone had set his entire body on fire: every nerve-ending burning and throbbing and screaming for even the smallest form of relief. Forcing him to order another drink right there and then; downing it one gulp as he hoped and prayed she wouldn’t notice the stirrings of desire visible through his cargo pants.  He didn’t want to be THAT obvious;  hoping to hold onto some semblance of self-control.  She was worth more than that;  an object of lust in the eyes and the hands of a touch-starved man who hadn’t been with a woman in four months.   He’d been worried she’d think that’s all he was interested in;  a couple of rolls in the hay before everything was forced to become purely business.  And he hadn’t wanted to deal with the awkwardness that would undoubtedly come afterwards;  the uneasiness that occurs when you know someone intimately but are relegated to ‘all work and no play’. 

It had been enjoyable.  Securing  a booth at the back of the bar; tucked  away from the crowd as they shared pitchers of beer, downed shots,  and sampled local cuisine.  The booze giving him the liquid confidence he needed to be completely relaxed in her presence;  a fish out of water when it came to actually keeping company with a woman outside of no strings attached sex.   She’d enough personality for the both of them; talkative and lively with sparkling eyes and beautiful  smile and infectious giggle.  Completely unlike anyone he’d ever come across in his time on the job;  lonely women in seedy bars,  the occasional female merc from a  foreign country, mistresses of ‘marks’ that had offered themselves -sexually speaking- in favour of sparing their men.   The latter was always a mistake and not something he’s proud of; taking the ladies up on their offer but still pulling the trigger when the time finally came.  

Esme was different. Intelligent and  witty and -despite her tiny size- a  total spitfire.  Not afraid to speak her mind and always ready to vehemently defend her opinions.    So full of life.  Energetic and bubbly and always so quick with the witty comebacks and playful banter.  And that inadvertent flirting;  the way she’d twirl her hair or ‘accidentally’ brush her foot against his or how she’d tilt her head to the side and give a sly yet beautiful smile.   

She’d also been genuinely curious about HIM; avoiding ‘job talk’ in favour of peppering him with more personal questions.  Listening intently as he talked about growing up in Australia  and his love for surfing,  his career in the army and his time with SASR. Somehow surviving the gruelling and punishing training and then serving numerous tours throughout Iraq and Afghanistan.   Holding back pieces of pertinent and possibly damaging information; the truth behind his departure from the military and his switch to mercenary work.  Trust didn’t come easily to him, and while he felt comfortable with her in a way he’d never felt with anyone else,  he also felt the need to protect both himself and HER.  He hadn’t lived a good life;  he’d taken lives -whether deserving or not- for nothing more than a pay check and he’d made horrible decisions and hurt those he’d loved and who had loved in return.  And he’d not only been worried about offering up too much, too soon,  but had been afraid to see  disappointment and disgust in her eyes.

They’d come so close; teetering on the edge of abandoning not only all of their worries and concerns, but every ounce of self control.    His much taller and heavier frame pining hers against her hotel room door; feeling the warmth that radiated from her body and the press of her hard, inviting nipples through the fabric of her shirt.  Despite his past sexual promiscuities,  he couldn’t remember wanting someone THAT badly;  a need and a hunger that was so profound and all consuming that all rational thought and logic seemed impossible.  Spurred on by the way her hands clung to the front of his shirt and those enormous dark eyes looked up at him;  filled with longing and desire that clearly matched his own.   There was no bigger turn-on; knowing that someone like her -so beautiful and intelligent and stable- wanted him just as much.   

But the universe had other ideas.  Other plans.   And just as he accepted her proposition and their lips briefly touched, his conscience intervened; reminding him that she was worth way more than just being a notch on his bedpost. He felt…things.    Stirrings that went far beyond just the sexual; an attraction not just to her body but to that enormous personality and compassionate mind.   He couldn’t do that to her;  spend the night delivering -and succumbing to- the thralls of pleasure without being able to promise so much more.  He wasn’t good for her and could never be the kind man that she needed and deserved; a drug and booze-addicted mercenary with numerous layers of baggage and a death wish.

That’s why he walked away.   The knowledge that he could never give her more.  He could try.   He could devote days, weeks, and even months to being the kind of partner and friend she desired.   And maybe they would have a good thing;  a fairly stable relationship and a commitment they could build on and strengthen.   But he’d only hurt her in the end.   He’d fail at keeping himself clean and sober and she’d be left heartbroken and disappointed.    

That’s why he walked away.  Opting to break his own heart in favour of protecting hers.

It HAD been temporary, however;  their argument in Dhaka opened up floodgates that neither was able to control.  And when it became readily apparent that he couldn’t scare her away, he’d momentarily hesitated in going further; telling her that once it started…THEY started…he wouldn’t be able to stop. In response, she’d reached under his shirt and dragged a nail across his stomach; following the top of his pants from hip to hip before settling on his belt buckle.

“I won’t want you to.”

And no sooner did those words escape her mouth, the last of his resolve finally crumbled.   

*****

“You keep staring at me,” Esme playfully scolds.

“Admiring. Not staring.”

Tilting her head to the side, she smiles and reaches out to rest a palm upon his thigh.  The way he immediately reciprocates causes butterflies  to spring to life within her stomach;  heart swelling when he drops a hand from the wheel in order to push his fingers through hers.   It’s those simple, little things that often say so much;  the kisses pressed to her cheeks and her temples,  the fingers that comb through her hair,  the strong arms that wrap around her from behind and tuck her against a warm, solid chest.  Being around him and enjoying his company comes so easily;  the comfort that one feels when in the presence of an old, trusted friend.  So many enjoyable moments.  The car rides spent chatting and listening to music or the prepping dinner side by side.   The early evenings out on the front with coffee and tea; sitting on the edge of the deck as they watch the sunset.  Those chilly nights spent in front of the fire; wrapped in each other’s arms in the confines of a tightly zipped sleeping bag.  The content of having someone to fall asleep next to and wake up with;  the sound of their breathing and the press of their body against yours.  And  the sharing of  sleepy good morning smiles and long, lazy kisses)

“What’cha reading?”

“An article about kinks. The stuff that is the most  ‘in’ right now.  And you know, I’m not usually one to kink shame and judge what folks  do in the bedroom,  but  I’m actually starting to worry about some people. Unless…”  Balancing the magazine on her thighs, she reaches across her body for the bottle of water in the cup holder between the seats and takes a swig. “...I’m just getting really vanilla in my old age.”

“There is nothing vanilla about you.  Not in the slightest.”

“Maybe not now. But I was such a sweet,  innocent little bean when I met you.  And then you just went and seduced me and corrupted me and…”

Tyler scoffs.  “You are definitely not vanilla. And you’re not old. You JUST  turned thirty.”

“That’s old.”

“If that’s old, what am I?  I’m going to be  thirty-six.”

“Four years away from forty?”  She casually flips a page in her magazine. “That’s ancient.”

“Do you want me to pull over to the side of the road and kick you out of the truck? You wanna walk?  Because it’s a long way in either direction, believe me.”

Laughing, she drops his hand in favour of reaching for his face;  skimming her knuckles along his unshaven jaw.  “You’d never.”

“Don’t tempt me.”

“There’s nothing  wrong with getting old. I mean look at you…”   She playfully tugs at some of the short, wiry hair that graces his face. “...rocking all that gray.”

“Excuse you? Gray?  Where are you seeing gray?”

“Here…”   She taps a fingertip against his chin and then runs a nail across his cheek.  “Here.  And…”  She rubs at his temple.  “...a little bit here.”

“You really DO want to walk, don’t you.”

“Like I said, you’d never kick me out.  Not out of the truck, not out of the house. And especially not out of bed.”

Grinning, he reaches over to pluck the bottle of water from her hand and takes a swig.  “I may not be the smartest guy on earth, but not I’m not a total dumbass.”

“I don’t see what the big deal is,” Esme muses, and slides her hand to the back of his neck;  lightly and repeatedly scratching at the bottom of his hairline.  “With having gray hair.   It looks good.  Damn good, actually.”

“It’s bad enough that I FEEL eighty some days. Do I really have to look like it?”

Rolling her eyes, she turns her attention back to her magazine.   “You don’t look THAT old.”

He stares at her pointedly. 

“You don’t look old. At all.  You look your age.  And there’s nothing wrong with that. The same way there’s nothing wrong with having gray hair.  Gray hair is sophisticated. Debonair.   And…to some women…incredibly sexy.”

“Are you including yourself in that group? When you say ‘some women’?”

“I happen to find your gray hairs insanely hot.  Especially the ones in your beard.  Trust me, when I point them out? I’m definitely NOT complaining.”

“Hmmm…”   He runs a palm over the side of his face. “...maybe it’s not so bad after all.”

“You know…”  She adjusts her position in her seat; crossing her legs and placing her feet in her lap.   “...it’s kinda cute.  How even the toughest and meanest enjoy compliments and validation.”

“Who you calling cute?”

“That’s what you’re offended by? Being called ‘cute’?  You have an aversion to that but don’t mind being called mean?”

“I know I’m mean.   Or at least I can be. If someone deserves it.  But ‘cute’?  There’s no way in hell I’m cute.  Cute is for kittens and puppies and babies.  Not for guys like me.”

“Oh I’m sorry.   I’m sorry being called ‘cute’  upsets your delicate sensibilities. Mister Big, Bad, Mercenary Man.”

He smirks. “That’s better.”

“For your information, I happen to find you very cute. At times.  It’s not twenty hours  a day, seven days a week thing with you.  But you DO  have your moments.  And I happen to like them.   I enjoy that side of you.”

“I’m not sure if you’re making this any better, or…”

“I get to see you in ways other people don’t.  In ways you don’t probably don’t even see yourself.  We live together.  We have this nice little existence; where you don’t have to always be on guard and you don’t have to live up to the image people have of you.  You can just be yourself with me.   And here’s a lot  more to Tyler Rake than a lot of folks  realize.”

“All good stuff, I hope.”

“Very good stuff,” she assures him.   “You’re a different Tyler away from the job.  Especially when it’s just the two of you.  You’re comfortable being  yourself when it’s just me around.  You’re attentive and sweet and you spoil me every chance you get.  You’re a softer version of you.”

He frowns.

Esme huffs in exasperation. “You’re impossible.  There’s nothing wrong with being those things.  It isn’t going to emasculate you, you know. You’re not going to lose your balls just because you show your softer, gentler side.   Just because people have bought into the stories and have made you out to be some kind of robotic killing machine, doesn’t mean it’s true.   You’re not any of those things.   Whether you want to believe it or not.”

“It’s what I do.   Kill people.”

“It isn’t what you do. Sometimes it’s PART of what you do.  Not every job involves having to kill someone.  You’re not a monster, Tyler.  Regardless of how you see yourself. Do you really think I’d be here if you were? Do you really think I would have caved in  Dhaka if you were a terrible person? Would I have stuck around?  Made a life here?”

“I don’t know. Maybe you just have shitty taste in men. I mean, from what I know about your ex…”

“Perhaps my past choices weren’t the greatest.  But choosing you? A life with you? Smartest move I’ve ever made.   Things are good.  Not perfect, but good. Really good, actually.   I know it hasn’t been the easiest six months and that we’re still learning how to co-exist under the same roof and we’re still discovering a lot about each other, but it hasn’t been horrible. Far from it.”

“I don’t know. The way you hog all the blankets and talk in your sleep…”

“I am not taking criticism from a man who snores like you do.  And if I almost fall into the toilet at three am one more time…”

“I keep you on your toes, munchkin. I keep you young.”

“You give me gray hair and anxiety is what you do.  Maybe even an ulcer.”

“But you stick around. I notice you don’t leave.”

“Because I know how miserable you’d be without me.  And  I want to spare your delicate feelings.”

He smirks.

“And I suppose I hang around because I’d miss you.  Because I’d be miserable without you.”

“Aww look at you…”  he chides,  and reaches out to run a palm  over her hair.  One of those small yet meaningful forms of affection; a man that’s gone so long without meaningful physical touch and the purest forms of intimacy that he often struggles to initiate or accept it.  “...getting all  sappy and shit.”

“Don’t push your luck.  Even with your soft side and your occasional cute ways, you’re  still an enormous pain in my ass.”

“Take it as a compliment.  That I’m such a challenge.  That I can’t think of anyone else in this world I’d rather annoy for the rest of my life.”

It rolls so casually off his tongue that she initially wonders if she’d imagined it;  such a subtle admittance of the things that he’s been feeling and thinking.  An unassuming way of letting her know that he’s ‘all in’; the profession of craving something long term. Permanent.  Combined with their earlier conversation revolving around possible career changes, it nurtures her budding confidence;  giving strength to the whispers inside of her that want so desperately to confess her love for him.  But that worry still remains;  the intense fear of rejection and humiliation. Years ago Mark had destroyed every ounce of her self-confidence; tainting not only her view of herself, but of love and relationships in general.    And while logically she knows that Tyler is nothing like Mark and trusts he would never hurt her,  the hesitancy still remains.   Proof that sometimes,  the internal wounds and scars are far worse than what’s left on the surface. 

“So what does it say?”

Esme blinks.  The sound of his voice snapping her out of her reverie.  “What?”

“The article. About the kinks.  You never told me what it said.”

“Oh…”  She chews on her bottom lip and twirls a strand of her around her index finger as she turns her attention to the magazine in her lap.  “...well…you’ll be happy to know that under normal circumstances, we’re actually considered relatively kinky.   We’re able to check off four of the top seven. And according to the answers I circled, we  also apparently have a very  healthy dom/sub relationship; we are both big into consent and we employ safe words while enjoying choking, being tied up,  spanking, and hair pulling.”

“You mean YOU enjoy things. Being done to you.”

“You’re also a ‘soft dom’.”

“What does that mean?”

“Basically, you’re not a sadist and you don’t get off on humiliation and degradation.  You’re aggressive and in charge, but at the same time you give praise and you’re attentive and caring.  Like yeah, you’re okay with the choking and the hair pulling, but at the same time you’re telling me I’m beautiful or I’m a good girl.”

“So that’s a good thing?”

“A very good thing.   It’s healthy.  For us, anyway. Considering things that have happened in the past…”

“Which doesn’t need to be talked about.”  

There’s a lingering rage;  a deep and powerful hatred for a man he’s never met but would love to choke the life out of.  In the same way he’d opened in Dhaka about his son’s battle with cancer and the horrible decision he’d made near the end, she’d been nothing  but raw and honest with him.  Detailing her marriage to a complete monster; subjected to horrific beatings and barraged daily with vile, degrading names.  Twice he’d put her in the hospital. First, a three-day stay with busted ribs and bruised kidneys and then four-week stint; two of those in the ICU with a bleed on the brain and shattered jaw, busted ear drum, and various cuts that had needed stitching.  She’s too good for that;  too beautiful and compassionate to be settling for a man that doesn’t even come close to deserving her. And there are many times he questions  his own worth;  wondering just what the hell she is ever doing wasting her time with the likes of him.   

“We’re not as freaky as we could be,”   she says,  and he’s thankful that she’s steered herself away from the painful stroll down memory lane.  “According to this, anyway.”

“Is it a level of freaky we want to be at or…?”

“Depends.”

“On?”

“What’s your opinion on pissing on someone? Or having someone piss on you?”

He briefly glances over at her. “What?”

“The old golden shower. It’s growing in popularity. More and more people are into it.  What do you think about it?”

“I think it’s fucking gross.  Why the hell would I want someone to piss on me? Why would I want to piss on them? Wait…”  He frowns.  “...is this your way of telling me you’re into that sort of thing? ‘Cause if you’re hoping it’s going to happen, I’ve got some bad news for you.”

“No! God no! Totally not my thing.  Like I said, I don’t normally kink shame.  I don’t care what other people are into it.  But if someone ever even thought about peeing on me?  They’d die a very painful and gruesome death.”

“Good. Because if you ever ask me to do something like that…”

“So I take it you won’t ever be…relieving yourself…on me?”

“Fuck no.  What is wrong with you? We’ve been together for six months.  Half a year.   Have I ever asked to do anything even remotely close to that? “

“No. But you could be just biding your time.  Being on your best behaviour for as long as possible. Until you nail me with something like that.  You could be a really dirty bastard and I won’t  find out about it for a year or two.   We’re talking even dirtier than you already are. You could be hiding some really weird shit from me.”

“You could be hiding some from me.  How do I know you’re not going to one day want to stick one of those plug things up my ass? You know, the ones with tails on them.”

She grins devilishly. “Would you like me to one day stick one of those up your ass?”

“No.  I wouldn’t.  So if you’ve got that in that beautiful but twisted little head of yours…”

“I promise the only thing I will ever put in your butt is a finger. Or two.   Because we both know how much you like when I’m…”

He scowls. “Esme…I swear to God…”

She throws her head back as she laughs, then reaches out to snatch the ballcap from his head.  “You’re too much,” she declares, and pulls the hat down over her hair.  “And you say I get embarrassed easily? Look at the big, bad, mercenary man…”  She trails a fingertip along the outer edge of his ear.  “...blushing like hell over the mere mention of a butt plug.”

“I don’t blush.”

“Sure you don’t.  There’s no reason your cheeks and the tips of your ears are turning the most beautiful shade of pink.”

Chuckling, he pushes her hand away from the side of his face.  “Fuck off.”

“You’re way too cute, Tyler Rake.   Despite what you say.”

“You know, you’re awfully lucky YOU’RE cute. You know that, yeah? Because if you weren’t…”

“What would you do? If I wasn’t?  What would you do about it?  Nothing. And you know why? Because you’d be miserable as fuck without me.  You’d miss me.”

“Yeah…” A slow grin spreads across his face, and he once more takes her hand in his; squeezing tightly before setting them on his thigh.   “...I would.”

****

They find a reasonably priced hotel overlooking the beach;  a quaint and clean room with two double beds and a small balcony and heart shaped bathtub.  A far cry from the accommodations they’d stayed at in Dhaka;  a squalid place with a broken air conditioner and a toilet that didn’t flush properly and a shower too small for him to actually stand under.    Mismatched furniture and stains on the walls and ceiling;  a kitchenette filled with chipped and broken plates and glasses and rusted cutlery and a stove with only one working burner.   And the noise from outside;  the honking of horns and the chattering and yelling of hundreds within the market area.   Yet as miserable as it had been, they’d found a way to make it bearable;  two broken and hurting people losing themselves in each other and finding a remarkable level of solace and acceptance.  

He reminisces  about that crappy little hotel room now, as he stands in five feet of water.  holding onto a surfboard they’d rented nearly an hour before.  Esme’s idea after she spotted the stand as they walked along the beach; knowing of his love for the sport and expressing enthusiasm at the idea of him giving her a lesson. But it’s Dhaka that haunts his thoughts;  resurfacing at the times he feels the most content and relaxed.  And he thinks of the most mundane and unusual things;  of the pipes that shook and screamed whenever the water was turned on and the strong smell of vehicle exhaust that would waft up from the street.   

And her hands.  So small and so soft.  Nails raking across his shoulders and down his chest and back.  Gentle fingers exploring the various scars that littered his body and tracing his numerous tattoos.   The way they’d brush those longer strands of hair off his forehead and out his eyes.   Always so tender;  an affection and an adoration that he’d long been starved of. If he’d  ever experienced at all. 

“I’m not very good at this,” Esme laments, coughing and sputtering as she resurfaces;  shoving wet strands of hair away from the sides of her face and out of her eyes.

“I didn’t expect you to be. You’ve never tried surfing before.”

“But I can’t even stay up for more than ten seconds!”  Placing her hands on his shoulders, she uses them for balances as she climbs back onto the board. “I thought I’d be better than this. I mean, I HAVE snowboarded. I’m from Colorado! Same thing, right? Just switch the snow for the water and…”

“I wouldn’t know. I’ve never been snowboarding.”

“We’re going to have to change that.  Maybe we’ll take a trip.  Like we talked about. In Dhaka. About how you’d come to Snowmass to visit me.”

“A lot‘s changed since we had that conversation.  You deciding to stay here,  us living together, talking about moving and buying a house. Not to mention there’s the whole me nearly dying thing.”

“That is definitely not a highlight I’ll include in the ‘year round up’ that I always include in my Christmas cards. “

“Oh Christ. You’re one of THOSE people.”

“And I’m damn proud of it. Nothing wrong with being a little ‘extra’.   I always wanted to be one of those moms that go all out at Christmas.  Right down to the matching onesies.”

“THE CIA could torture me for years and I still wouldn’t submit  to that.”

“You know, there are some people that have more power than the CIA.”

“Yeah? Like who?”

“Little brunettes with big brown eyes, tongue piercings, and smoking hot butts.”

“That’s a hell of a list. Where do I find someone off it?”

Scowling, she uses her foot to shovel water onto his face and chest.   “Asshole.”

“I will admit..”  His palms  slide up the back of her calves and thighs and then settle on her ass;  winking as his fingers dig through the fabric of her swimsuit and into the supple wish. “...you do have a really nice ass.”

“Just really nice? How insulting.  You certainly were calling it way better than that last night.   I seem to remember you being a little… worked up… and saying it was…and I quote…fucking amazing.”

“In my defence, you had me at your mercy.  Bent over the kitchen table like that?  Black lace thong?  You’re an evil genius.  You know exactly what you’re doing. At all times. You know how to get what you want.”

“Wrapped around my little finger, baby.  Those are the powers I’m talking about. That make me more powerful than any government agency or bad guy you could ever come across.  Won’t wear onesie pyjamas, huh? We’ll see about that!”

“You’re going to be one of those women that make me pose for pictures wearing that shit, aren’t you?  The whole house will be wearing the same thing;  me, you, the kids, the dog.”

She tries to play it off; as if the implication that he’s been planning for  the long term doesn’t excite her.  A by-product of her ex stripping away every ounce of self-confidence and trust she ever had;  the constant questioning of a person’s actions and words. Even when they ARE blatantly obvious.  “You’re planning on keeping me around for that long, are you?”

“Like I told you half a year ago. When you asked how long you could stick around for. You can stay as long as you want.”

“You also said ‘that’s okay too’.  When I asked ‘what if I never want to leave?’”

“And I meant you. You don’t have to go anywhere.  So unless you’re planning on cutting ME loose…”

“Not anytime soon,”  she teases, and uses a foot to ruffle his hair.    “And yes; I’m expecting you to wear a Christmas onesie.  And you’ll do it and you’ll love it. Every second of it. Want to know why?”

“Why?”

“Because you know the reward will make the temporary suffering worth it.”

“If the reward you’re talking about includes both of us naked or you on your knees in front of me…”

“What else would I be talking about? Like you said; I know how to get exactly what I want.”

“What you don’t know how to do?”   He gently moves her feet further apart, then grips the backs of her calves. “Is hold your balance.”

She scowls. “Am I really THAT bad?”

“Let’s put it this way; I admire your enthusiasm and your resiliency.”

“Don’t be such a knob!  I can do this!  I can learn!  Maybe not today, but I’m sure if we keep trying, I can get the hang of it. Make you proud.”

“Baby, you even being willing to try makes me proud.  The fact you wanted to do this? And that you’re this excited about it? Even when you do keep falling off?  I’m pretty damn proud.”

“It’s something you love.   Why wouldn’t I want to learn?  It’s something we could do together.”

“Yeah…”  He smiles up at her, and slowly and carefully releases his grip on her legs.  “...we could.  I’d like that.”

“I know you hate hearing this, but…”  Her hands resort to tightly clutching his hair in order to stay upright on the board.  “...you can be such a cutie.”

“I’m going to pretend I never heard you say that.”

“And here other people think you’re nothing but big muscles and meanness and…”  

 She loses her balance as a small, gentle wave rocks the board beneath her feet; losing the grip on his hair and shrieking as she again topples backwards into the water.  Already giggling when she breaches the surface;  hands frantically pushing wet hair away from her face and out of her eyes.   She’s never been more beautiful;  the sound of her laugh, water glistening on her deeply tanned skin, and the sunburn on her cheeks and nose causing her freckles to become more pronounced.  Possessing a ‘girl next door’ adorableness not expected of someone who has fought the battles she has; a youthful innocence that not even her nightmare of an ex could strip her of.  

“I DO really stink!”  She laughs as she swims towards him;  treading water as she rests her forearms on the surfboard. “Like really badly!”

“Rome wasn’t built in a day.”  Resting an elbow on the board,  he reaches across with his free hand to smooth down her hair.  “Took me a long time to learn. Even to get used to standing up for more than ten seconds.”

“Bullshit. I refuse to believe it. Everyone knows that Australians are born knowing to surf.”

“That’s a lie.  We have to learn to surf. We’re only born  knowing how to wrestle crocs and punch out sharks.”

“Speaking of sharks…” She glances down at her feet; bubble gum pink toe nails shimmering in the water.

“Shark spotters will see them before they get anywhere near you.  And if something does go wrong and they do get that close? Don’t worry. I’ll choke a shark out for you.” 

“My hero.” Leaning across the board, she pecks his lips. “My knight in shining armour.  Or should I say ‘slightly tarnished armour’.”

“I like that a little better.  But it’ll have to be a small shark.  Not like a great white.  Or a hammerhead. Or anything like that.  Like a baby shark.”

Laughing, she scoops up a handful of water and tosses it into his face.  “For someone so cute, you can be such a shit head.”

“You’ve  called me that twice today. In the span of five minutes.”

“But I’ve thought about it a dozen or so times.  Listen, you can play the big, bad mercenary card for everyone else, but not for me.  I live with you.  I share a bed with you. I know all your little quirks. How big of a softie you can be.”

“And you’ve already been sworn to secrecy. Because if any of that ever gets out…”

“I know…I know. You have a reputation to uphold.  I will take your precious secret to the grave.  Or wait sixty years and then leak the proof to everyone we know.  You know, kinda like the files on who killed JFK.  Anyone involved will be dead and  no one can be held accountable. Or embarrassed.”

“I promise you that if things  get out even then, I’m coming back and haunting your ass.”

“Oh please. The only reason you’re coming back to haunt is because you like it so much.  It’s a nice ass.  A great ass, even.  You like looking at it and touching it. And doing things to it.”

“You’re lucky this water is as chilly as it is. ‘Cause talking about your ass like that…”

“Don’t worry. When we get back to the room, I’ll help you out with your shrinkage.  Make it all better.”

“I’m going to hold you to that.”

“I hope you do.”    

Kissing him once more,  she giggles when he prevents her from pulling away; fingers tangling in her dark, wet tresses as he deepens and intensifies things.   Until they’d met, she’d never been kissed like that; as if each one is better than the last and he can’t get enough of her.   Whether it be those sleepy kisses first thing in the morning or the frenzied and hungry in the midst of passion, no two are ever the same and she never tires of them;  the press of his body against her and the taste and the feel of his lips and the smell of his skin.

“You know, I was thinking…” Resting a forearm on the surfboard, she places her chin on top of it.  “...it would be really nice.  To be able to do stuff like this more often.  It’s fun. Doing things like this with you.”

“I’m just glad to have someone to do this shit with.   Not the same; doing it on your own.”

“I think you were a lot lonelier than you’ll actually admit to.  Before I came along.”

“My life certainly was a lot more boring. And a lot quieter. Not to mention  there was a lot less hair in my shower drain.”

She gives a derisive snort.   “And people say romance is dead!”

“It’s been…nice.   Having someone around.   Seeing their stuff all over the place.  Just knowing they’re there.  I don’t know…”  He loops hair behind one of her ears, then the other.  “...you know I’m not good with this kind of stuff.   Feelings. Words.  Words about feelings.”

“Well I’m just  happy you want to share things with me.  You love to surf.  What a better way to get to know each other more, right? Share the things we love.   I wish I was better at it, but…”

“Stick with me kid.  I’ll have you on your own two feet in no time. At least for a few seconds, anyway.”

“Who knows I could be a prodigy.  Once I get used to it. I could be a regular Kathy Slater.”

Tyler frowns.  “That’s Kelly Slater.  And it’s a guy.”

“Then a female version of him!  Once I get my balance, I could be a natural! I could be a pro!”

He stares at her pointedly.

“Okay…”   Esme  laughs.  “... maybe not. But staying up for thirty seconds would be nice.”

“You’ll get there.  Takes a while.  Practice makes perfect.”

“I also don’t have any Australian in me.  I bet there’s something in the blood. That makes you such a good surfer.”

“Baby. in the past six months,  you’ve had plenty of Aussie in you.”

“You’re disgusting!”

“In all the ways you like best.  But I agree with you.   It would be nice. To do more of this.  But living where we do…”

“We’re  going to have the ‘we should move sooner than we anticipated’ talk again, aren’t we.”

“We can’t exactly do things like this where we’re living.  This is the closest beach with the best surf and it’s  almost a five hour drive.   Can’t be making that all the time.  If we lived closer…”

“But can we afford it?  To move this soon?  We both agreed that we needed a little more money before we could.  And you haven’t gone back to work yet and you’re not one hundred percent. I don’t want you going back too soon because you think you NEED to.”

“We’re not broke.  There’s still money in the bank.  Not a lot, but it’s there.  And I’ve got some credit left. Again, not a lot, but…”

“I’ve still got a bit.  And I don’t mind using it.  Especially for something so important.”

“And if worse comes to worse and we’re a bit short, I can talk to Nik. She can give me a loan. A pay advance, even.  On my first job back.”

“I just don’t want you going so hard core right off the bat.  That’s what worries me.  That you’ll get in too deep, too fast…”

“I already promised you I wouldn’t, didn’t I?  I know my limits.   I’ll slowly get back into things. Slowly but surely.”

“And you really think we could pull this off?  Moving so soon? You really think we’d be okay?”

“I do. Or I wouldn’t bring it up.”

“I would be nice,”  she gives a wistful sigh.  “Living closer to things.  Restaurants and grocery stores and shops to browse in.  And I wouldn’t mind being close to the beach.  It would be nice to come here more often.”

“We’ll check things out tomorrow.  See what the market is like. If there’s a little house we can afford. If not, we might have to start with an apartment and go from there.”

“I don’t care where we live.  As long as we’re together.  Apartment. House. Doesn’t matter. I just want to be with you.”

Smiling, he presses a kiss to her forehead. “And you call me sappy?”

“You’re by far the bigger sap out of the two of us. And I can’t help it.  Feeling all ‘loved up’.   I mean, it’s your fault, you know. Making me feel that way. You’re always looking at me like I’m the most beautiful, sexiest woman in the world and…”

“Because you ARE.”

“...you make me feel seen and heard. And important.  Things I haven’t felt in forever.  If I’ve ever actually felt them at all.   You know how you say you’re not good about talking about these things? Well, I’m WAY too good at it.  Good enough at it for the both of us.  Which  means I always end up hurt. Because I say too much and I put too much into things and into people and I…”

“You’re not going to get hurt.  I’m not going to hurt you. I know I’m not perfect. By any stretch of the imagination. But I also know I’m not like THAT.  At least not anymore.  I meant what I said. In Dhaka. About you making me want to be a better man.”

Tears sparkle in her eyes.  “That is still the most beautiful thing anyone has ever said to me.”

“I’m not your ex husband, Esme.   I’m never going to be him.  I’m not in this to hurt you. I’m in this to love you.”

She blinks. “What?”

“What?  What did I say?”

“You said that word. THE word.  You know the one. The BIG one.”

“You’re surprised that I did or…”

“I just…I don’t know…I guess deep down I knew you did.  You’re always finding ways of showing it, even if you never say it.   But then there’s a part of me that dwells. On the worst case scenario.  That tells me I’m reading too much into things and I’m just seeing what I want to see and that there’s no way that someone like you could love someone like me and...”

“Someone like you?  Isn’t it the other way?  Someone like you wanting to be someone like me?  I’m a bigger mess than you. By far.  A lot more broken.”

“You’re not broken, Tyler. You’re just bent.  Maybe a little more than I am.  But you’re definitely NOT broken.   If you were, you never would have gotten as far as you have.  After Dhaka.  You would have given up a long time ago.”

“You’ve given me a reason not to.  Someone to come home to.   Someone to have a life with. A NORMAL life. Or our version of normal, anyway.”

“So you really do?  You know…the word that you said…”

“Do I really love you? Yeah.  I do.   I’ve just been too chicken shit to admit it.  Like I said, I’m not good at this stuff.  Talking about this kind of thing. Guess  I was hoping I was making it obvious in other ways.  So I could give myself the time to get up the nerve to tell you.”

She reaches across the surfboard to brush wet hair out of his eyes. “What were you scared of?”

“I’m not actually sure.  Guess I was worried that it was all too good to be true. Having someone like you interested in a guy like me.   I’m not actually a prize, Esme.  Look at all the bullshit I come with.  The drinking, the meds…”

“Two things that you’ve beaten,” she reminds him.  “You went to rehab.  You’re sober.  You’re clean.”

“Once an alcoholic and a pill junkie, always an alcoholic and a pill junkie. There’s always going to be that ‘what if’.   What if something goes wrong?  What if I fall off the wagon? What if I can’t stay clean?”

“Everyone has slips.  I’m not expecting miracles. I know it’s going to take a lot of work. To stay on the straight and narrow. But that’s what I’m here for. To help you.  You’re not in this alone.”

“Guess I was worried it would just all be too much. I’D be too much.  Guess I was scared of saying the words because it meant I really was going ‘all in’.  There’s no turning back after you say those things.   And I’d feel like a complete fucking prick if I said them and months or years down the road turned out to be the worst thing that’s ever happened to you.”

“I would never…EVER…think that.  Tyler, I knew what I was getting into. All the way back in Dhaka. I knew who you were. What you did for a living. In the same way I knew the things you were battling. You were nothing but honest with me about everything.  The drinking and the meds and your son.   I knew all of it and I still stayed. On the bridge.  And I came here.  Believe me, if I had thought you were too much, I would have been long gone,  a long time ago.”

“Maybe that’s part of it too.  Something I think about it. If I do fucked up and become too much…”

“I’m not going anywhere.  I’m here.  I’m ‘all in’ too.”

Smiling, he pushes his fingers through hers and brings their joined hands to his face; placing a soft, feathery peck to the inside of her wrist.

“I have a good feeling about this.  About us.  A very good feeling.”

Leaning in, he presses a kiss to her lips.   “So do I.”

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