#Tyler Rake fan ficiton
Text
Best Part of Me -Chapter 79
Warnings: none
Tagging: @innerpaperexpertcloud, @c-a-v-a-l-r-y, @alievans007
With the addition of several armed guards to patrol and secure the outside perimeter and Rata offering to take ‘first watch’ outside the bedroom door. He’s able to step out for some fresh air. He needs to get his head back in the game’ stop thinking and reacting emotionally and start looking at things -and coming up with solutions- from the viewpoint of a mercenary. It’s difficult; separating the two when it’s your own family are the ones being targeted. Damn near impossible, in fact. Both the anger and fear are profound; the mere thought of someone even planning on hurting his wife and children stokes the fire of rage and the need for revenge. It’s so easy to LET your emotions run things when the people you love...who you’ve spent years busting your ass to protect...will be the ones to suffer immensely if they fall into the wrong hands. He’s hardened and experienced, but he’s not dead inside. That had been proven when he HAD managed to fall in love with someone. What he’d thought had long shrivelled up and perished inside of him had just been lying dormant; waiting for that one moment...that one person...who was strong enough to break down the walls and tear through the broken, tattered mess he’d made of himself. And maybe he HAD known it right from the start; how livid he’d been when she’d intentionally ignored him and put herself in danger as sign that things were changing. That HE was changing. He’d certainly felt it the first time he’d kissed her; the way her body eagerly and excitedly responded to his, the desperation in which she’d kissed him back and never once hesitated when it quickly turned into something much more intense.
It had been fear that held the feelings...held HIM...back. Scared of hurting her; worried that once she saw him...the real him...she’d be frightened off by all his issues and demons and she’d leave him a bigger mess than before. Mostly, he’d thought she deserved better than him; a soldier for hire with addiction addiction issues, a lifetime of bad decisions, and a propensity to destroy everything he touched. But she’d hung in there. Willingly putting her own life on the line to save his and sticking by his side; both after Dhaka and through all the bullshit and problems he brought her way through years. Remaining loyal and faithful no matter how hard times got, and never looking at him like he was garbage or a total failure. How do you NOT get emotional when the one person who loves you more than life itself...who’d helped you create five incredible little human beings...is the one with a target on their back? When you know all the horrible, vile things that will be done to her if the wrong people get a hold of her? How do you stop thinking and reacting with your heart when that someone IS your whole heart?
His brain hurts. It’s weary. Muddle. Frustrated. Overrun by multiple and equally powerful emotions. Anger. Guilt. Regret. His heart broken over the realization that he’d once again gone back on a promise and deeply wounded her. It seems to be commonplace. Inadvertently hurting her and his own stubbornness and hang ups making the situation even worse and then having to grovel his way to forgiveness. But this time it’s different. He’s crossed the line before; gone back on his word and disappointed her. But he’s never completely trampled it. At least not until now. She’s confronted him about the same issues before; given him warnings and ultimatums that had seemed serious at the time. But none of those had ever seemed this dire. This FINAL. It wasn’t just in the words and the thinly veiled threats, but in the tone of her voice; the frustration and anger, the disappointment and vehemence. It was in those wild, unhinged eyes and in every single gesture of her hands and the way her entire body trembled. She’s finally reached her breaking point; if he doesn’t get clean...if he doesn’t commit himself to it...she WILL leave. It isn’t just a threat. She’s strong and tenacious and while she doesn’t want to raise the kids alone, she’ll bite the bullet and do it. Everything she said had been true; all her points and arguments valid even if they had damaged his entire soul. He deserved it. Every single word. And as much as it hurts, he knows the pain he’s caused is a hell of a lot worse.
He glances over his shoulder as the screen door slides open; giving Koen a simple nod in greeting before turning his attention back to the dark of night and the glass of whisky clutched in his hand. He’d needed something to take the edge off; both the pain and the need for the long discarded pill just shy of unbearable. But he’s been sipping at for nearly an hour and it hasn’t made a dent; each swallow tasting more putrid than the last. It’s the disgust he feels; sickened by how quick he’d fallen back into old habits and how easily those habits had been able to control him.
“Things are looking okay in there,” Koen says, taking a swig of his beer before taking a seat beside him on the back patio’s top step. “All if quiet. Just the way we want it.”
Tyler nods in agreement.
“How’s things out here?”’
He shrugs. “As good as they get when you’re surrounded by armed guards, I guess.”
“Well that’s all fine and dandy, but what I was really talking about was you. How are YOU doing?”
“I don’t know,” he admits. “Not sure I’m doing to be honest.”
“It’s a hell of a thing; the bear just showing up like that.”
Tyler scoffs. “That’s an understatement.”
“I don’t get why the hell anyone would do something like that. Get kids involved. A baby, at that. Takes someone pretty sick and twisted to justify dragging little ones into adult problems. They got an issue with you, that’s who they should be taken it up with. Leave the kiddos out of it.”
“It’s not really about the kids. It’s about using them to get to me. Because they know it’s what will break me; anything happening to my wife and kids.”
“They’re making it THAT personal?”
“They know they can’t break me any other way. They know they won’t be able to beat me out on the street or hand to hand. They know they have to weaken me first. And that’s exactly what they’re trying to do.”
“You sure of that? Because they got awfully close to that baby.”
“They would have taken her if they wanted her. They had every chance to grab her. They weren’t planning on hurting her. It’s all about fucking with my head. All the threats, all the sick and twisted shit they said they’d do to Esme and the kids...especially the girls...it’s all about screwing me up. And I gotta give them credit I guess; it’s working.”
“Come on,” Koen nudges him with his elbow. “You’re tougher stuff than that. You don’t break easy; if at all. Just take it from the source.”
“You don’t think I’ve tried? You don’t think I’ve tried drilling that into my head? That it’s all just words and I shouldn’t let them get to me? I HAVE tried. I’ve tried ignoring it and I’ve tried considering where it’s coming but. But every time I look at my wife or I think about my kids, all that creeps into my head is what’s been said. What I've been told will happen to them. You can’t love someone that much and just ignore it and act like it doesn’t bother you.”
“I’m not saying don’t let it bother you. I’m saying don’t let it bother you as much as it is.”
“That’s my family they’re talking about. My wife. My kids. I can’t just turn off how I feel about them. And I find it a little hard to take advice from a guy with two failed marriages under his belt.”
“You keep going like you are and YOU’RE going to have two failed ones. Or is that what you’re trying to do? Fuck yourself to the point she’ll say ‘enough’s enough’ and just walk out.’
Tyler scowls. “That’s the last thing I want.”
“You sure about that? First the meds, now you’re drinking too? You’re just pissing it all away, aren’t you. You’ve got a good thing...a damn good thing...and you don’t even appreciate it.”
“Is that why you came out here? To ride my ass? To make me feel like complete and utter shit?”
“You’re an ungrateful fuck, you know that? You get a second chance; you find someone that loves you despite all your bullshit, despite your past and your fucking job. Someone that sticks by you no matter what. And this is how you her? You shit all over her? And those kids? How fucking dare you do that to her.”
“How fucking dare YOU come out here with this bullshit,” Tyler angrily counters. “You have no clue what you’re even talking about. You have no idea what went down here today. How close she was to walking out of her. How close I came to losing my entire family.”
“What are you talking about? What…?”
“I’m drinking because I’m not on the meds anymore. Because I flushed them. And because I’m in so much fucking pain, I could put a gun in my mouth. Because I need something...anything...to numb this shit.”
Koen frowns “Don’t talk like that. Don’t talk stupid shit. About putting a gun in your mouth. Don’t…”
“There’s where I am. I’m right fucking there. I’m tired. I’m tired of the pain and I’m tired of all this bullshit and I’m tired of being away from my kids. This has to stop; the pain, this crap with Mahajan. It’s all gotta stop. Because I can’t keep going like this; I can’t keep living like this. I just can’t. It’s breaking me. And she deserves better than that. So do my kids.”
“And you think ending it would make things better for them? It would make things worse. They need you. A clean and sober you.”
“And I’m gonna get clear. Which is why I flushed the meds. It was them or her. I chose her.”
“She found out?”
“Yeah,” Tyler nods and takes a swallow of whiskey. “She found out.”
“How?”
“I was pretty messed up when she got back. The point I didn’t even remember her calling me when you just got done.”
“Jesus,” Koen mutters. “How many of those pills did you take?”
“Too many. I don't know if I was still high from them or if I was borderline OD’ing or if I was going through withdrawal. But I was fucked up and it was easy for her to figure out what was going on. She’s seen me like that before. Way too many times. More than I want to admit. “
“What happened?”
“She lost it. Rightfully so. Said a lot of things that hurt like hell but I needed to hear. About how it was her breaking point and I needed to get my shit together once and for all.”
“And yet she’s STILL here.”
“All that...all the times I’ve hurt her and I’ve broken promises and I’ve been a complete fuck up...and she says she still loves me. She just can’t live with an addict; can’t have the kids around that. And she’s right; she DOES deserve better than that and so do they. So that’s why I flushed the pills. Because losing them would cause a hell of a lot more pain than what I’m going through right now.”
“What are you going to do now?”
“I’m going to smarten the hell up. I’m going to go see the doctor; find out what’s going on with my body and get it fixed. I’ll go to rehab if I have to. I’ll do whatever it takes to keep my family together. To be the man that she needs. That she deserves. I’ll stop at nothing to make that happen.”
Koen nods slowly, then turns attention to the beer in his hands. Draining it in a handful of long sips before setting the empty bottle on the step below. “You really thought she was going to leave?”
“I did. And it scared the shit out of me. I’ve already spent months away from him. And that was my doing too. You think I would have learned my lesson the first time.”
“What did you do? Get on your knees and beg?”
“Believe me, I would have done it if it had gotten to that point. I’m not above begging. But she said she couldn’t leave; not in the middle of all this. Said she wouldn’t leave me alone to deal with it by myself. Said she couldn’t do that to me.”
“Gotta give her credit; even pissed off and raging, she still loves your ass.”
“Nothing’s stopping her from leaving when we get back though. And she’s got every right to leave me. I wouldn’t blame her if she did. But it would fucking kill me. Because she’d walk out and she’d take my kids and I don’t think there’s anything I’d be able to do to get them back.”
“Sounds like you got your work cut out for you,” Koen muses. “And if you’re willing to put the work in..”
“I'm willing to do whatever it takes...whatever I have to...to make sure I don’t lose her.”
“If you really think she’s fixin’ to leave, you have to do whatever it takes to change her mind. Make sure you prove to her that it’s a one off. That this isn’t the way you want to be. And I know it isn’t; I know this isn’t how you want to be.”
“I just want the pain gone. I NEED it gone. And I thought if I could just use the meds until I got home, I could see a doctor and find out what’s wrong and get it fixed. I thought I’d just be able to stop and never touch them again.”
“You know that’s horseshit, right? You’re an addict; whether you like to hear that or not. You are. And that’s the kind of choices and decisions you can’t be making. And honestly? I think it’s a good thing she caught on this soon. Imagine if it had gone on longer? How deep would you have been into it? I would have been a hell of a lot messier, that’s for sure. She’s a tough little shit, ain’t she.”
Tyler nods. “Tougher than she gives herself credit for. Probably the toughest person I know.”
Koen scowls. “I’ll try not to be offended by that.”
Tyler smirks, then polishes off the last of his drink.
“Your girl was impressive today, by the way. The way she kept her cool on the bridge, how she handled the guy in the market, how she took seeing that little prick that shot ya.”
“What’s the chances of that even happening? That she’d see him?”
“She’s got quite the hate on for him. Wouldn’t put it past her to kill him with her bare hands. But she did good today. Real good. You should be proud of her.”
“I’m proud of her every day, mate. For a whole lot of different reasons.”
Koen smiles, then playfully tousles Tyler’s hair. “So what now? We just wait? Hope they call?”
“That's about it. I was hoping it would have happened by now, but…” he shrugs. “You know, part of me...a huge part...just wants to say ‘fuck it, let someone else deal with it’; just get the hell out of here and get my kids and go home. Get someone else to do the dirty work.”
“But…”
“But that would look like I’m running scared. And I’m not. I’m not scared of those little bastards. I’ve handled bigger and better. Only thing I’m worried about is my family; getting them the hell out of this mess. That’s all that matters.”
“You know, there probably are people who could get this shit done.”
“Maybe. But I gave Anil my word; that I’d be the one to to do this. I can’t back out now. Especially after the Fredrick thing.”
Koen frowns “Fredrick? Who’s Fredrick?”
“The bear. Do you not know the story of the bear?”
“Do I need to?”
“I bought him for Millie when she was born. She was like half an hour old and I went downstairs to start calling people and letting them know about her, and there was this bear in the window of the gift shop. And Esme hadn’t been in Australia very long and she was all about koalas so I bought the damn thing. It became this joke; every time we took Millie on a road trip somewhere, we’d bring the bear with us. So wherever we went, we’d take a picture of him and then we got home, Esme would print it off. She ended up making a scrapbook with all the pictures; gave it to Millie on her third birthday.”
“Okay, I know I have a cold, dead heart, but that is some seriously adorable shit.”
“Millie took that damn bear everywhere. Slept with it every night. And she started talking, she named him Patrick.”
“I thought his name was Fredrick?”
“It is. He became Fredrick. After Addie was born, Millie gave him to her because she was happy to finally have a sister. She gave Addie the bear and suddenly his name was Fredrick. I don’t know, mate. I don’t know why the hell that kid does the things she does. So yeah, that’s the story of Patrick. Or Fredrick. Or whatever the hell his name is.”
“And someone just took it?”
“Right out of the crib. Esme said she put it right next to her; that they would have to reach over her to get it. Someone was right there; right fucking there. Right across the goddamn hall form us. And I didn’t hear a thing. They went in there and I didn’t even know it.”
“You were asleep,” Koen reasons. “How could you have known? If they were creeping around…”
“Where were my instincts? They’re the one thing I could always count on; my gut picking up on something that’s wrong or someone that’s shady. But there was nothing. I didn’t suspect a single one of those people. How fucking pathetic is that? I do the job I do...I protect complete strangers...and I couldn’t even protect my kid and I was right across the hall.”
“They probably worked hard so you wouldn’t suspect a thing.” Koen says. “Don’t beat yourself up over this. There’s no way you could have prevented it.”
“I was fifteen feet away. IF that,” Tyler shakes his head in disbelief. “And they got close to my kid. How do I NOT blame myself?”
*****
An hour later he joins her in the bedroom; setting a bowl of ice cream down on the bedside table and then leaning over to peck her lips. Chuckling when she grabs him by the front of the shirt and yanks him down or something longer; his hand coming to rest on the mattress to avoid losing his balance and landing on top of her.
“What’s that for?” Esme inquires, nodding at the bowl as she pushes herself up into a sit.
“Peace offering.”
“I wasn’t aware you needed one. I thought we weren’t fighting anymore.”
“Guess it’s to guarantee we DON’T start up again.”
“No fighting, I promise. The last thing I want to do is fight with you. I didn’t want to fight with you in the first place.”
“Eat your ice cream,” Tyler gently orders, then drops a kiss on the top of her head before retreating to a nearby chair; wincing as he slowly lowers himself into it.
She watches him, an eyebrow arched and the spoon pressed to her lips. “Back?”
“Everything.”
“You didn’t have to flush the pills. I didn’t want you to stop taking them entirely; I wanted you to take them responsibly. It was kind of hasty; getting rid of them like that. I don’t want you to suffer.”
“I’ll be alright. It’s not that bad. Nothing I can’t deal with.”
“If it wasn’t that bad, you wouldn’t have resorted to taking so many. Why don’t you call Anil’s doctor? Ask or something else; something that will actually work and you won’t have to go overboard.”
“At this point, I probably can’t even be trusted with over the counter shit. I’ll be okay. I’ll deal with it for the rest of the time we’re here, then when we get home, I’ll get the doctor to fix me up.”
“Who knows how long THAT will be. I don’t want you suffering. That’s not what I wanted at all. I just didn’t want it getting out of hand. Not like before. And it scared me; seeing you like that today. Because I remember what it was like the last time it got out of control. And that nearly destroyed us. And I don’t want it destroying us.”
“It won’t,” Tyler assures her. “That’s why I got rid of them. I had to. I didn’t trust myself with them.”
“But now I feel like shit. Because I know how bad things have gotten. You barely sleep and when you do you’re restless and never really at peace. Half the time you don’t eat properly. And I know about your hand; I see you struggling to use it sometimes. Why didn’t you tell me about that?”
“I didn’t want you to worry. You’ve got enough going on.”
“I’m going to worry about you regardless. So you might as well just tell me about these things. Is there anything I can do? You want me to get an ice pack or a heating pad or I can massage it? Or maybe you can take a hot shower or a hot bath…”
“You need to stop. I’m fine.”
“Want some ice cream?”
“Regardless of what you think, it doesn’t solve everything.”
“I’m trying here, okay? I feel like shit. You dumped all those pills. For me.”
“I dumped them for me. So I wouldn’t lose my entire life. I’ll deal with it. I’ll get shit done here, we’ll go home, and I’ll get it all looked at. Okay?”
“Okay,” Esme reluctantly agrees, then turns her attention to the bowl of ice cream in her hands.
The silence that follows is comfortable. Companionable. Still existing after seven years; content just to be in one another’s presence. It was something they’d discovered right off the bat; a quiet, comfy ease with one another as opposed to having to fill the minutes with mindless chit chat. He takes the opportunity to rest her eyes; legs stretched out in front of him, hands clasped together and resting on his stomach. Actual sleep will be a rare commodity. The arrival of Fredrick and the unspoken messages accompanying him combined with the anticipation of a call from Asif’s people, have his senses on high alert. Expecting the arrival of a threat, but hoping it never comes. It’s good to be prepared; keeping your guard up at all times and always assuming trouble could be just around the corner of lurking in the shadows.
The faint clinking of the spoon against the side of the bowl captures his attention; followed by the dish being placed on the nightstands and the sound of her clothes brushing against the sheets as she stretches out in bed. And when he opens his eyes and glances over, she’s flat on her back with her t-shirt pulled up to just above her navel, and the waist of her pyjama bottoms resting across her pubic bone. Eyes fixated on the ceiling as she runs her hands slowly over the sides and the top of her ever growing bump.
“What are you doing?”
“Just feeling the bump,” Esme says. “It’s bigger when I lie down. Does it look big?”
“I think it looks cute.”
“Do you have a pregnant woman fetish I don’t know about?” she teases.
“Only if the pregnant woman is my wife.”
“It’s weird to be showing this soon. It’s bigger, right? Than all the other ones at this stage? Does it look bigger?”
“I guess. I don’t know. Seems about the same as when you were having the boys.”
“You just HAD to put that out into the universe.”
“You asked me if it was like the others. I said yes; it looks like when you were pregnant with the twins. Don’t ask if you don’t really want an answer.”
“It’s growing on me. Both figuratively AND literally.”
He gives a small laugh; minutes passing by as he watches her. Contentment sparkling in her eyes as he palms continue to move over her bump.
A grin is tugging at the corners of her mouth when she turns her head towards him. “Why are you staring at me like that?”
“I’m not staring. I’m admiring.”
“Why are you admiring me like that, then?”
“Because you’re beautiful. And I love you.”
It’s the first smile...genuine smile...that he’s seen on her face in days. Maybe even weeks. All of the stress and the worry and heartache briefly lifting; lips curving softly, eyes glittering in the soft glow given off by the bedside lamp. And when she rolls onto her side and reaches out for him, he doesn’t hesitate; leaning forward in the chair and taking her hand in his own and pressing a kiss to the inside of her wrist. And in that moment, when she pulls away ever so slowly and her nails skim over his palm and along his fingers, he’s filled with a sense of hope. There’s love in her eyes. A tenderness and affection that nearly takes his breath away.
“I was thinking…” she says, as she scrunches her pillow up under her cheek and wraps both arms around it. “...we should probably add onto the house. We have a lot of space to work with and we’d still have tons of land left over.”
“What do you have in mind?”
“I was thinking a couple more bedrooms; one for the baby and one for guests. An ACTUAL office considering we’re going to be running a business. Maybe another two or three car garage that we can use to store all the gear and other job related stuff. A bigger and better gym. You’ve been talking about that since we moved in.”
“Whatever you want, baby. Just make a list and we’ll get it done.”
“And Millie and the two T’s are asking for animals. They miss the goats and the chickens. So if we could build something to keep them in…”
“If that’s what they want, I’ll get it done.”
“You’ve very agreeable. Not even a single roll of the eyes or those wrinkles you get when you frown. Are you drunk? Sometimes you’re a very mellow drunk.”
“No. I’m not drunk. I just think it all sounds reasonable. And if that’s what you want to do, we’ll do it. Make a list and we’ll start on things when we get back.”
“I like that you’re being optimistic; about getting out of here and going home. Because you will; get out of here and go home.”
“We’ll know that for sure soon enough.”
“I already know for sure. I know you; I know you’ll stop at nothing to get out of there. You don’t give up. You don’t know the meaning of ‘give up’. And you what else I was thinking?”
“Your brain’s been busy.”
“I was thinking we really should go away. An actual trip. Alone. Just us. I think we deserve it. And need it.”
“Where do you want to go?”
“Somewhere exotic. Somewhere tropical.”
“You don’t get enough sand and water at home?”
“As much as I love where we are, it’s different when you go away. I was thinking like Bali or Bora Bora or The Maldives. Stay in one of those suites that are built right on the water. That would be nice. AND romantic.”
“Romantic? Have we met?”
“You’re romantic in your own way. You just don’t do grand gestures or make a spectacle out of things. Which makes it even better. Other guys, you know it’s coming. With you, it’s always a surprise. It’s genuine. Just one of the many things I love about you.”
“You gonna make a list of those things, too?”
“If you want me to. If it would cheer up. I’ll do it if it will cheer you up.”
“Your smile is enough to do that. There hasn’t been a lot to smile about lately, has there.”
“It’s been...difficult.”
“That’s putting it lightly.”
“You look so tired. You sound tired.”
“I am,” Tyler admits. “Tired. In a lot of ways.”
“It’ll get better. When we get home and you see the doctor and they figure out what’s going on with you. Get it all fixed up. It will force you to slow down for a little while. And you need to. Slow down.”
“Are you insinuating that I’m old?”
“I’m insinuating that you’re human. And that you need to step back and let other people bust their asses. It doesn’t have to be you all the time. Just stay home and run things. Delegate. Don’t take everything on yourself. Because you’ll burn out and I don’t want that happening. I know you think I hate you right now. Because of our fight earlier and everything I said.”
“I don’t think you hate me. I think you hate that side of me. The one that’s so fucking weak that he gets sucked back into the same old shit.”
“You’re not weak, Tyler. There’s nothing remotely weak about you. And hate is a strong word. I don’t hate that side. It disappoints me.”
“Okay, you know what? That’s even worse.”
“But I love you. And I just want you better. That’s it. I just want you better. I don’t like seeing you like this. Not just the pain, but everything. I know you’re tired; I know you’re probably ready to just give up. But I need you to keep going. Our kids need you to keep going. Little bean needs that too. It won’t be much longer. It’ll be over soon.”
“I hope so, baby. I really do. Because I don’t know how much more I can take. It’s fucking breaking me down. And that’s what they want. They want to break my mind before they break my body. And it’s working.”
“They know what would hurt you the most,” she concludes. “What WILL break you. Anything to do with me or the kids. They know we’re your weaknesses.”
“Just proves it’s someone close to us. That knows us. Knows me.”
“I’m not ruling Nathan out. There’s something very sketchy about him.”
Tyler nods in agreement.
“Do you think it could be Nik? Do you think it’s possible she’s working with him? Maybe they’re more involved than just fuck buddies or whatever she claims they are.”
“I want to say she wouldn’t do something like that, but nothing would surprise me anymore.”
“Just be careful. Err on the side of caution. Assume everyone we know could be in on it. That way no one will take you by surprise.”
He grins. “Are you telling me how to do my job?”
“No. I’m just a paranoid wife. Who’s worried about you. Who loves you. And who really wants you alive and in one piece at the end of all this. Don’t trust anyone.”
“Present company excluded, obviously.”
“Obviously. I mean, you’re the only person I trust.”
“I think I’ve proven a few times that you shouldn’t.”
“Your issues don’t make me trust you any less. Because I know you’d do anything to keep me safe. I never never doubted that. You’re the only one who has ever made me feel safe. I can’t see that ever changing.”
“I won’t let anything happen to you.”
“I know. And I wish I could do the same for you. Protect you.”
“You do. In your own way.”
“Maybe,” she sighs, and rolls over onto her back once more, a hand resting on either side of her bump.
“Could you do me a favour?”
She looks over at him.
“Can you pull your pants up? It’s distracting me.”
Esme grins. “Maybe you need a distraction.”
“Not THAT kind of distraction.”
“I’m offended,” she pouts. “It hurts my feelings that I can pull my pants down and you don’t jump on it. Or me,”
“Trust me, I want to. I just can’t.”
“Why not?”
“I’m technically on the clock.”
“That’s suddenly a problem? Do I need to remind you about seven years ago? When we were both on the clock?”
“This is different.”
“How?”
“Because I’m trying to protect you.”
“You were technically supposed to be protecting me then, too.”
“Not the way I am now.”
“You can’t take a few minutes out of your time and oblige me?”
Tyler frowns. “A few minutes? Now I’M offended.”
She rolls her eyes. “I’m pretty sure you can spare half an hour. What’s going to happen? You’re RIGHT here. Koen and Rata are downstairs, there’s all kinds of armed guards wandering around. You don’t need to constantly watch over me.”
“Can you please pull your pants up?”
She heaves a heavy, dramatic sigh, then obliges.
“And I DO have to watch over you. They were able to get to Addie and I was right across the hall.”
“So was I,” Esme points out. “I didn’t hear anything either.”
“But I should have. What a fucking time for my instincts to take a dump.”
“You were asleep. Your instincts were at rest. You’re really not blaming yourself, are you? Tell me you don’t think this is your fault. Tell me.”
“I should have heard something. Or at least picked up something before that.”
“Tyler, you have to be kidding me right now. It is in no way your fault. Not in the slightest.”
“Hard not to blame myself.”
“Well stop. You told me not to blame myself.”
“You didn’t do anything wrong.”
“And neither did you. You were asleep. You didn’t think there’d be a reason to watch over her. So stop…” she sits up and swings her legs over the side of the top, pulling her t-shirt down as she stands and saunters over. “...just stop.”
He grins as she perches herself on his lap, arms circling his neck. “What are you doing?”
“Trying to distract you.” She presses a series of feathery kisses along his jaw and onto his ear, tracing the outer edge with the top of her tongue. “Is it working?”
“Yeah…” His hands grip her hips, pulling her tight against him; raising his hips so she can feel the beginning of his erection straining against his jeans. “...it’s working.”
“Good…” she giggles, and pulls back to look at him. “...I really AM a distraction.”
“Yep. You are.”
“I think you should come to bed. At least for a little while.”
“You know it’ll be longer than five minutes, yeah?”
She grins and presses a kiss to his lips. “It better be.”
#Tyler Rake#Tyler Rake fan fic#Tyler Rake fan ficiton#Extraction#Extraction 2020#Extraction fan fiction#Chris Hemsworth character#best part of me
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Never Gonna Be Alone - Chapter 89
Title: Distractions
Warnings: angst, mentions of blood, injuries, alcoholism, drug addiction
Tagging: @secretaryunpaid, @jvstjewels, @innerpaperexpertcloud, @c-a-v-a-l-r-y, @asirensrage @raith-way, @arrthurpendragon, @residentdormouse, @ocappreciationtag
Tag list is OPEN. Please let me know if you’d like to be added :)
Link to AO3: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28860450/chapters/97657254
Attempting to carry on with some sense of normalcy had made the latter part of the day somewhat easier to bear; concentrating on the needs of the kids and on following their usual routines. He wanted to keep things running as smoothly as possible despite the uncertainty and worry surrounding the entire family; a feat Esme had somehow managed when he’d been laid up for months after his altercation with Nathan. She’d been pregnant with the twins during the initial time; finding ways to take care of him and support his physical and mental needs while his babies thrived inside of her. And when hIs recovery time had stretched beyond the two year window they’d been given, she hadn’t allowed it to adversely affect the family unit; digging her heels in even further and finding the outside help that both of them so desperately needed.
Focusing on domesticity and the needs at hand had allowed his mind to abandon the darkest and most dire of thoughts; keeping busy not giving him a chance to dwell on the worst case scenario and on the pain reverberating through his entire body. There were hungry mouths to feed and laundry to complete. A kitchen to clean up and bath time schedules to adhere to. And while working with only one good hand had proved difficult, Estelle had quietly stepped up to take some of the burden off his weary and aching shoulders; enabling them to ‘divide and conquer’ and give each child the attention and care they needed.
It had its hitches of course; the news of their mother’s abduction and the appearance of their father’s bruised and bloodied body had affected each kid in very different ways. Millie had immediately stormed off; hearing little more than unknown assailants had ambushed them in the middle of the night and her mother had been targeted and whisked away. Shock had been the initial response for the others; listening with their eyes spread wide in horror and then spending several minutes without speaking before launching into a million and one questions. And there’d been tears all around; TJ, Declan, and even little Brookie bravely fighting back on their own in order to console a distraught Tanner and a hysterical Addie and Takota.
It’s a situation far more serious than any of them -even the oldest- are able to comprehend; their mother missing and ‘off the radar’ and their father bearing the evidence of both the brutality of the men that had attacked him and the fight he’d put up. The initial three had become used to seeing him with stitches and the odd broken bone and a wide variety of cuts and bruises; vividly remembering what he’d looked like when he’d come home from the hospital after Nathan had nearly taken his life. But years had passed since then, and he very seldom went out into the field; ninety percent of his time spent running things from behind the scenes, whether on site or from home. And the worst he’d walked back through the front door with was a busted nose or a black eye and minor cuts and scrapes that could easily be hidden under clothing and healed quickly.
After the news had been dropped in their laps, the effects had lasted for the rest of the day and well into the evening. Addie and Takota suffering from random tearful outbursts; crying over their ice cream melting too quickly or the dogs barking too loud or the disappointment of not getting bedtime hugs and kisses from mummy. TJ’s temper -long controlled on medication- had been whisper thin and firing on all cylinders; losing his patience over the smallest of inconveniences and having to be physically restrained from attacking Millie when she’d called him a ‘whiny bitch baby’ because she’d heard him express how much he missed his mum. Tanner -unable to handle the noises and commotion and all the bodies around him, had in turn taken his dinner plate and retreated to his mother’s reading nook in the upstairs hallway; desperately needing to ‘decompress’ and feel closer to her. And in the midst of all the upheaval, Brookie and Declan had shown the most poise; banding together to tend to the night time animal chores under Nanny Stel’s watchful and loving eye.
While a quiet house usually brings tremendous relief, tonight it causes his anxiety to settle in; making itself comfortable at home, the constant rolling of a slow, steady boil. It’s deafening; the way his heart pounds mercilessly in his chest. Despite the amount of bodies in the house and the shuffle of Estelle’s footsteps overhead, he’s never felt more alone; the profound reality of his wife’s absence threatening to suffocate him. It isn’t the first time he’s been alone with the kids in the past twelve years; used to her weekly ‘girl nights’ and her weekends away with her sister. But that’s different; he knows when she’ll be returning and she keeps in touch and he looks forward to her text messages and social media posts and her nightly video calls. It is never drawn out; her time away from him and the kids and the security and comfort that their home and its surroundings provide. She suffers from notorious homesickness; missing her family desperately despite enjoying her night or her thirty six hours away. Always returning refreshed and reinvigorated; running up the driveway and jumping into his arms as her own wind around his neck. Squeezing as tight as she can as she peppers his ears and his cheeks and lips with seemingly endless kisses; tossing her head back and shrieking and laughing when his palms slap her ass and he vows to take her inside and ‘make an honest woman out of her’.
He misses her when she’s gone. The nightly walks on the beach, the naps on the hammock, the visits she pays to the office or the gym. The lunch dates and the hikes in the woods and the strolls through town. The simple act of sharing a bed with her and the comfort and innocence of familiarity; listening to her slow, rhythmic breathing and the mumbling and giggling in her sleep and the mere realization that her warm body is just mere inches away. The more intimate times; moans, sighs, and gasps floating on the air and the sharing of hungry and feverish kisses as greedy, desperate hands explore sweat slicked bodies. Even after nearly thirteen years, it’s never boring or mundane; the enormous pleasure that comes when two people know each other THAT deeply and profoundly. Never tiring of one another and never fantasizing about others; the love and the lust still so strong and not showing any signs of weakening. The aftermath just as enjoyable; wrapped in a tangle of messy sheets and sweaty limbs. Her tiny body tucked tightly into his and her head resting on his chest; their eyes closed as her fingers trace his tattoos and scars by memory and his knuckles repeatedly glide up and down her spine. And those conversations; a part of their relationship since those five days in Dhaka. Heartfelt and intense as both find themselves emotionally vulnerable in their afterglow. Long and intense talks that eventually turn into exhausted giggles and lazy kisses; the whispered ‘I love you’s’ before he gathers her into his arms. Eyes closed and his face buried in her hair; relaxed by her familiar scent and the light scrape of her nails along his forearms. Holding her as tight as that little body will allow; only moving away when she’s teetering on the verge of sleep.
The void is there even if only a couple of days without. Immense and intimidating. The loneliness that comes with not being with his best friend and soulmate. The love of his life.
He can hear Koen…hell, even his old man…now; laughing and calling him weak and joking about how she ‘carries his balls in her purse’. But no one really knows what it’s like; to be so close to taking your last breath -whether by your own hand or someone else’s- only to be thrown a lifeline. To be reminded that you’re still alive; you’re waking up every day and bringing air into your lungs and putting one foot in front of the other. You still FEEL; you’re not cold and heartless and soulless. Nothing more than a drug and booze addicted hired killer with a death wish.
Until someone has experienced that kind of desolation and emptiness, there’s no way to comprehend it. He’d thought he was broken and beyond repair; a shell of a man wallowing in tremendous grief and suffocating guilt that himself more than anyone else possibly could. But then Esme came along and suddenly life didn’t seem so bleak anymore. He was intrigued by the cute little brunette on his porch with her various piercings and tattoos; pleasantly surprised by the optimism and brightness she somehow managed to possess despite being caught up in the messiness of the job. And the physical attraction had been undeniable; he felt…something…the moment she shook his hand inside that old shack. A ‘spark’ that he’d only ever heard of but had never experienced himself; the first sign that he was indeed very much alive and that maybe…just maybe…it wasn’t too far-fetched to think someone like her could be interested in someone like him. She didn’t give an impression of phoniness; his instincts telling him that she was genuine and trustworthy and didn’t have a malicious or deceitful bone in her body.
It had been the wrong place and entirely the wrong time. Yet it had felt so damn right; surrendering to the overwhelming sexual attraction and chemistry and allowing himself to want and to feel. Even that first night he’d experienced it. A dramatic shift as his life switched directions; the patching up of old emotions wounds and the filling of those dark, lonely places that he had never realized were so immense. And he’d enjoyed the ego boost that came with her wanting and needing him just as bad; a beautiful, alluring, and intelligent woman that should have been far out of his league yet somehow was inexplicably drawn to him.
On the second day it became apparent that there was more to their ‘hook up’ than he was comfortable to admit. He liked the way she smiled at him whenever he entered that dirty little hotel room; leaving while she was still asleep to fetch coffee and tea and something for breakfast. He enjoyed the way her fingers would innocently explore his body while lying in bed together; confidently tracing his scars and his tattoos and asking questions about their origins. He had been open and honest with her in a way he’d never been with anyone else; tales of his tours in Afghanistan and his time with SASR and the various wounds he’d gathered during his time as a mercenary. He’d told her about the loss of his mother and how it brought about the death of his childhood; a nine year old boy left with a monster of a man that beat and degraded him on a regular basis. And he talked about his son; the battle with lymphoma and eventual death and the horrible mistake he’d made. She was the first person that hadn’t looked at him as if he was a piece of shit; tears glistening in her eyes as she apologized to HIM. Saying how sorry she was that he’d gone through such a terrible thing; the loss of a child and the choice he’d made and the feelings of guilt and regret and self hate that he’d been left with. Yes, it WAS a bad mistake. But it had been one made by a man who didn’t know how to handle such trauma; his father and his brutal treatment setting his own child up for failure.
“I won’t pretend to know what you were feeling or what you were thinking.” Gentle finger tips had smoothed away the tears that glistened on his cheeks and the sides of his nose. “You were scared; you didn’t want to watch your son, let alone DIE. Anyone would be scared of all that. And yeah, it WAS a shitty choice you made. But goddamnit, Tyler, you don’t have to pay for it for the rest of your life. Or WITH your life.”
While everything should have been screaming at him to push her away, he instead drew her in even closer; scared shitless of the things he was experiencing yet holding on as tight as he possibly could. Worried about overwhelming and suffocating her; desperate to show her that despite all of his issues and his addictions, he could be the man she needed, wanted, AND deserved. He knew he’d never be able to just walk away at the end of the mission; she had reminded him what it was like to be human and she looked at him in ways that no one else ever had. Suddenly he mattered to someone; the attraction was mutual and she’d made it obvious that she was feeling the same way. Which in turn, only fuelled his want and need for her. Many times he’d tried to talk himself out of it. That evil voice whispering in his ear; reminding him what a mess he was and that no one like Esme would EVER want someone like him. Sure, maybe at first things would be great; they’d be caught up in the ‘honeymoon stage’ and they’d both be happy and get comfortable with one another and make the big steps towards creating a life together. But eventually he’d become too much; the booze and the pain meds, his immense self loathing and his addiction to the job. No woman could handle all of that. And she certainly didn’t deserve to be subjected to any of it.
But in favor of scaring her off, he’d brought up the prospect of traveling together after the job was over; taking some of the money they’d be paid and spending a couple of months -or even more- globe hopping. Create a joint ‘bucket list’ of places they’d always wanted to see but had never gotten the chance to; destinations that -unbeknownst to them- would one day end up on a piece of paper attached to the side of a fridge in Queensland, Australia. It had been a relief when she enthusiastically agreed to his idea; immediately inviting him to come and stay with her in Snowmass, Colorado. He could see and experience the mountains; go skiing and snowboarding and maybe even meet her family. In turn he’d asked her to reciprocate; the cabin in The Kimberley wasn’t much, but his door -and his bed for that matter- were open to her. Making plans had given a new meaning to his life; things to look forward to instead of just lying in wait for the day a sniper would put a bullet in his head. And as the death wish began to evaporate, he became determined to do whatever it took to rescue Ovi and get the fuck out Dhaka.
*****
The anxiety returns; gnawing at his stomach and constricting his chest. And with it comes the most troubling and disturbing of thoughts; the what if’s and the maybe’s and the worries of never seeing his wife again. Those who know him always say that his mantra of not being able to function without her is all in his head; his combined mental illnesses working against him and convincing him that he’s not capable of continuing on and raising his children on his own. Yet he knows it’s the truth; the loss of their mother and the love of his life enormously painful and life altering. The grief would be unbearable; the harsh acceptance that the person solely responsible for his survival is gone and never coming back.
He wouldn’t want to live that way; completely void of her presence. No longer hearing her voice and laugh. No more seeing her face or pressing feathery kisses to the freckles that paint the bridge of her nose. Her fingers no longer pushing their way through his as they walk down the street; her tiny hand squeezing as tight as it possibly can and her eyes sparkling as she smiles up at him. And no tickle of her breath against his skin as they share a bed; no more shivering -a head to toe quake- when her body so innocently brushes against his. It’s so many things that he’d never experience again, and that reality…the overwhelming and suffocating loneliness and despair…is something he will never survive.
It’s quite simple really; enormous heartbreak would mark the return of his addictions. He’d be powerless to stop them; turning to old vices in hopes of numbing the insurmountable pain. And no one in his life would sit idly by and allow his kids to be raised by an active alcoholic and pill junkie. Not when Esme had kicked him out over those very things; refusing to allow her children to be subjected to that kind of lifestyle and the turmoil that comes with. In the end, he won’t just lose his wife, but his entire family. And his worlds as he knows it will cease to exist.
Sighing heavily, he closes his eyes and pinches the bridge of his nose between thumb and forefinger; chin dropping towards his chest and his injured hand -temporarily removed from its binding- resting on the counter top. Everything hurts; a ferocious and unforgiving ache that begins at the roots of hair and travels to the tips of his toes. Despite the dislocated and broken bones and torn ligaments in his hand, the worst is his head; a constant and unrelenting pounding and tightness across his brow that often blurs his vision. It’s the concussion; used to the symptoms after suffering at least a couple dozen - if not MORE- during his time as a mercenary alone. But it’s one of the worst he’s ever had; affecting his eyesight and his balance and bringing on sudden bouts of dizziness and nausea. Yet he can’t force himself to settle; sinking further into the doom and gloom and dwelling on the worst case scenarios when his body and mind are at rest. It’s fear; afraid of just how far he’ll spiral and the things he will turn to in order to quell the loneliness and despair and numb his battered body and broken heart.
He concentrates on his breathing; inhaling deeply and exhaling slowly. Fighting through the discomfort that comes with something so damn simple; the damaged ribs and lung on the left side burning with even the smallest of movements. And it’s enough to bring tears to his eyes and cause bile to climb up into his throat; both hands clenching into tight fists as he battles past the nausea and the dizziness. Yet he somehow manages to get himself under control; the queasiness settling and the light headedness eventually disappearing. Letting out a final puff of air, he opens his eyes and moves to the fridge; rummaging through the contents of the bottom crisper and fetching a bottle of water. Having to abandon all thought of his badly injured hand and resorting to deploying his forearm; securing the drink against his chest and his good hand tears off the cap and tosses it across the room and into the empty sink.
So many emotions. The ache that comes with grieving someone you haven’t quite lost yet and the fear of the unknown; the ongoing questioning of whether the last time he saw her truly was the LAST TIME. The guilt and self loathing at the forefront; Riley’s words earlier in the day sitting heavily on his chest and already overburdened shoulders and feeding into his belief that he could have done more. There had to have been a way to fight back; snap the restraints and get to his feet and fend off their attackers. Weapon or no weapon. He’d done it in Dhaka many years before; disposing of an entire apartment of assailants with an old AK-47 and whatever items he could get a hold of and even his bare hands.
Where there’s a will, there’s a way.
One of his old man’s favorite sayings. Something he’d always bark at Tyler whenever he felt as if any obstacle or barrier was too high to get past. Bad grades at school, problems socializing with kids his age, the ever escalating temper and aggression and his lack of impulse control. And his overwhelming grief for his mother; learning quickly that any show of sadness or shedding of tears or even a mention of her and memories together would earn him one hell of a beating. No matter how badly he behaved or how much he struggled, HE was always the problem; never being under the roof with an abusive alcoholic that would use his hands and his fists and whatever he could get his hands on to discipline his only child. There were moments of sobriety; glimpses of a functioning human being, caring father , and a husband mourning the loss of his wife. And it was during those very brief snapshots of who his dad COULD be that he’d sympathize with Tyler’s troubles. Clapping him on the shoulder or affectionately tousling his hair and then busting that old line.
Downing the bottle of water in two gulps, he snags another; sipping slowly as he leans stomach first against the counter. The rage is immense; the overwhelming need for revenge and to see the blood of his enemies pooling at his feet; the desire to feel it splatter against his face and seep between his fingers. He hasn’t felt that way in a long time; since Mahajan’s people had snuck into the nursery in Mumbai and stole the stuffed koala out of Addie’s crib. Sometimes he still dreams of that night; her high pitched screams and the rush of cold air as it streamed through the open window. Of bringing his baby girl into the confines of the king sized bed he’d shared with his wife; placing her tiny body safely and securely…PROTECTIVELY…between them. His fingers moving through Addie’s silky, dark hair as Esme brought her to the breast for a comfort feed. Revenge had been the only thing on his mind that night. Not mentioning the open window or he terror of someone getting that close to his daughter; not wanting to alarm his already overwhelmed wife. Instead he’d watched as she fed their baby girl; the way the moonlight bathed both mother and daughter in a beautiful, silvery glow. Amazed at the life that he’d been given; someone that loved him and trusted him with their life and truly believed that he could protect them against anyone and anything.
Except that didn’t happen. Not in Tasmania anyway. He’d let her down. Made the wrong decisions. Failed her.
He suddenly wishes he had something stronger to drink; tempted to head to the outdoor kitchen and make waste to the bottles or beer and whisky and tequila they keep on hand for guests. He’d always been able to trust himself; knowing there was easy access to booze yet never relying on the escape it could provide. Always beating even the strongest of longings; finding ways to successfully distract himself before making a horrible fucking mistake. But it’s there now; the intense craving and the ravenous want and need. Drinking himself into oblivion a means to two different ends; the drowning of his sorrow and the numbing of his physical pain. With the meds under lock and key, alcohol is the only answer; Sheana has already organized his pills. Knowing exactly what and how many he’s to take at different time slots throughout the day. Swallowing them all at once will solve nothing in the long run; he’d get a reprieve from the agony, but she’d hold off on giving him anything else. Tough love so to speak; let him suffer to teach him a lesson, And he knows she’ll never cave and cough up the combination to the safe that the various prescription bottles are kept in. That cold, hard truth is that he can’t be trusted with controlled substances; he’s proven it too many times to count.
For once he doesn’t care about feeling or appearing weak; his body in sheer agony, his heart shattered, his life falling apart. He can’t live with the intrusive thoughts; the massive guilt and the feelings of failure and the constant second guessing of the choices he’d made the night before. And there’s so many questions no one -not even the universe- has answers for. What is Mark’s motive? What does he want? What is his end game? If it had been just about killing Esme in some sort of twisted and misguided need for revenge, he would have been in Tasmania and handled things himself. He certainly wouldn’t have spent the last five years flying under the radar, and Tyler doubts he would have wasted the time and energy tracking them down in New York City and then following them home. So far it hasn’t been about money; no contact has been made regarding a ransom. And is it even really about Esme at all? Or is she being used as Mark’s pawn in his bid to finally break who he considers his name adversary? Mark knows that Esme is his biggest weakness; losing her would destroy him from the inside out. And if it’s revenge he’s seeking, Mark would pull out all the stops to make things as brutal as possible.
He needs a drink. More than one, even. Just enough to ease both the physical and mental anguish. Overdoing it is both stupid AND dangerous; not wanting to fall back into the life of an active alcoholic and worried that mixing booze with the medications he’s taking will lead to serious repercussions. A little buzz is all he seeks; the warmth and contentment, the numbing of physical pain and silencing of those dreadful voices inhabiting his mind. A glass or two and that’s it; stopping himself before losing complete control. And he’s eager for the escape as he turns on his heel and prepares to head for the French doors that separate the kitchen from the back deck. Giving a small jump and stopping in his tracks when he finds Alannah standing at the island; clad in a pair of pajama bottoms and an enormous t-shirt, palm of her hand pressing into one tired eye, then the other.
“What’cha doin’ up, kiddo?” He says in way of greeting. “Thought maybe you’d be out like a light. Been a rough day.”
“I’m having a hard time falling asleep,” she laments. “Can’t shut my brain off. It’s thinking too much.”
“I hear that. I’m having the same problem myself. Everything alright up there? Things calming down?”
“I guess so. Millie finally fell asleep. I didn’t think she was ever going to. I wouldn’t have come downstairs if my stomach didn’t start talking to me. I’m starving.”
“I was just thinking of having something myself.”
It’s just a little white lie. She doesn’t need to know exactly WHAT he’d been considering helping himself to. And she’s still just a kid. Just a few months shy of her eleventh birthday; innocent and naive and still caught up in the wonderment of being an actual family. The opposite of what he’d been like at that age; his lone parent a raging alcoholic that would beat him mercilessly and lock him in the backyard shed when he disobeyed. There’d been many a night he’d sleep on the beach when his old man became too much to bear, and times -after the vicious fuck spent all the grocery money on booze and strippers- that he’d be starving and resort to break into vending machines. Stealing either crisps and chocolate bars or loose change; the latter used to purchase decent foods to fill his aching stomach. He’d been caught once; juvenile detention seemed like a paradise compared to the treatment at home. A bed to sleep in and no one kicking the shit out of him and three square meals a day. It was there that he thought of eventually joining the military; lying awake at night and envisioning himself as some kind of super soldier that would be big and strong and capable of beating the shit out of his old man.
That summer, he’d been put into the ‘troubled kids’ camp for the first time. An eleven year old boy thrown straight into the pits of hell.
“Cereal?” He suggests, as he moves towards the pantry, refusing to entertain any thoughts and recollections of his past.
He’s tired desperately over the past decade alone to shed the mountains of baggage his early upbringing had saddled him with. Learning quickly that in order to deal with the ghosts and the demons, he had to face them head on. Talking about his childhood with Esme was one thing; he trusts her in ways he’s never trusted another and she’s always shown nothing but love and compassion and empathy. It had taken a year into their marriage to finally tell her about the camp and the things he’d endured there; twelve months spent worrying that she’d be utterly disgusted and suddenly think less of him. When the worst case scenario hadn’t happened and she’d cried with him and held his face in her hands and kissed his tears away, he reached a whole new level of comfort with her. Realizing he could just ‘come as he is’; she didn’t expect him to always be strong and brave and the steadfast rock out of the two of them. He could be his most vulnerable with her, whether it be spilling his deepest and darkest secrets or showing his softer and weaker side or even handing over control during intimate times. But they both accept that even after thirteen years, there’s certain things she CAN’T give him; the closure and the acceptance that comes with being able to tell his story to others. He isn’t quite there yet; unable to spill the dirty and painful details to anyone other than Koen and Doctor Klein. But he’s working on it.
“I could go for some cereal,” Alannah says, and climbs onto one of the chairs at the island. “I mean, if you’re having some and you don’t mind getting me some too.”
“I don’t know, it’s a lot of hard work,” he teases, and gathers three different containers of cereal and steps back into the kitchen; setting the items on the countertop in front of her. “I have to get the bowls and the milk and the spoons.. I don’t know if I can handle anything that strenuous.”
“I was thinking more that maybe your hand’s too sore. It’s kinda hard doing things with just one. It looks pretty bad; all swollen and bruised and stuff. Is it really sore?”
“It’s not pleasant, that’s for sure.”
“Think it’s broken?”
“I’m pretty sure a few things are busted up in there. But I’ve had worse.”
It’s true. He has. Stabbed, drugged, tasered, and shot too many times to count. Most have been superficial wounds; nothing that stitches or some glue or staples couldn’t close up. The majority of bullets stopped by his tactical gear while others had spared him by sheer fucking luck; through and throughs that didn’t knick anything serious as they passed through his body. But the shot to the throat in Dhaka had brought him extremely close to death’s door; massive blood loss, coding twice in the operating room, then three weeks in a medically induced coma while his body was given a chance to both rest and begin repairing itself. And the busted femur years later; an open fracture that had been so horrific and extensive that doctors were positive they’d have to remove the leg. Somehow he’d gotten through it all; the surgeries and the complications and the infections and countless hours of physiotherapy.
The days had been long and hard and painful and at the end of many he’d had no idea how he’d gotten through them. Many mornings he’d wake up and think he couldn't possibly survive another twenty four hours; the pain intense, the therapy exercises arduous and his frustration and anger threatening to consume him. He hated not being able to live the life he was used to; laid up for an extended period of time and often not even being able to handle even the smallest and most simplest of tasks. No working out, no surfing, no working outside or around the house. And no spending time with his kids the way they were used to; missing the hands on dad that would rough house and throw them in the air and take them biking, swimming, and hiking. And he had missed it just as much; wallowing in self pity and feeling like a shell of the person he was before.
But he HAD gotten through it. And if all of the suffering had done anything, it had helped him ‘see’ his wife for the very first time. Truly see her. Witnessing her unwavering devotion to him; marvelling at her patience and her strength as she helped him while keeping his babies safe and thriving inside of her. He’d always been aware of her strength; she’d put her life on the line to save his in Dhaka and he’d been by her side as she gave birth. Multiple times. But he hadn’t realized just how much she did love him until he became totally dependent on her; her hands always soft and loving as she helped him shower or she washed his hair, never grimacing or looking away when she changed his various bandages, never losing her patience when he asked her the same questions over and over again. He knew she was tired. Physically AND emotionally. Trying to keep him comfortable and sane while growing two little humans inside of her. But she had never shown the true impact the situation had on her; never vocalizing her frustration or looking at him with pity, and certainly never seeing him as a burden. Even if he HAD felt like it.
Everyone should be lucky enough to be loved like that.
“You’ve seen a lot of bad stuff, haven’t you?” Alannah comments, as he sets bowls and spoons on the counter top and slides onto the stool beside.
“Unfortunately.”
“And you’ve had a lot of bad stuff happen TO YOU.”
He nods.
“Then why do you keep doing the things you do? The job you do? Why not just call it quits and stay home? You wouldn’t have to worry about getting hurt again. Or worse.”
“Sounds like a pretty intense conversation you’re wanting to get into.”
“Millie tells me things. About stuff that’s happened. How you almost died. Twice. Before she was even born and then when she was a little girl. Is that true? Did you? Almost die?”
“I did,” he admits, and reaches for a container of cereal. The kids talk among their friends; he’s used to the questions about his profession and how to answer them with as little details as possible. “Both times. First time, I almost didn’t live long enough to even find out Millie was in her mumma’s belly. Second time, I was in the hospital for a long while. Took a couple years to even get back on my feet.”
“But you still do it. Your job. Why would you go through that stuff and just go back to it?”
A grin tugs at the corners of his mouth. “Maybe I’m just a glutton for punishment. Maybe it’s really the only thing I know how to do. The one thing I’m really good at.”
“You’re really good at being a dad,” Alannah points out, as she pours Fruit Loops into her bowl.
“Being a dad doesn’t exactly pay the bills. I love my kids, but I also need to make money. Keep a roof over their heads and clothes on their backs and food in their tummies. So I stick with what I know.”
“Do you really kill people? Or is that just a rumor?”
“Sometimes I do. Sometimes it can't be helped. If it comes down to me or them, I’m the one that’s getting out of there alive.”
“I think it’s pretty cool in a way,” the ten year old admits, and spoons cereal into her mouth. “That you go after bad people. That you make them pay for hurting good people. If we had more people like you, there’d be less crappy folks in the world that’s for sure.”
“I wish it was that easy. It isn’t just as simple as me taking out the garbage. And sometimes I DO wish I had something else to take up my time. But it’s always been part of me. I’ve always been a soldier. In one way or another.”
“My parents are so lame,” Alannah grumbles. “All they do is work. Or have their annoying, snobby friends for dinner. Or go to those stupid fancy parties of theirs. You know the type? Where people are wearing tuxedos and ball gowns and getting people to wait on them hand and foot.”
“I’ve had to go to a couple of those.”
“I HATE them. They’re boring. Just a bunch of stuck up people talking about politics and money and business. I can’t stand going to them. They always drag me along; like I’m some kind of show dog or something. We NEVER do anything fun. Ever. Never go to the movies, never go shopping, never go skating at Rockefeller and anything of that cool stuff. They won’t even take me to Broadway shows. It’s not their ‘thing’.”
“What about the ladies that work for them? The ones always with ya?”
“Nannies.” She rolls her eyes. “My mom is constantly giving them lists about things to do with me. And none of them are ever fun. Piano lessons, violin lessons, ballroom dancing lessons. I don’t want to do ANY of that stuff. I want to do gymnastics and swimming and horseback riding and fun stuff like that. And you know what else my mom does? She even gives the nannies lists of what I can eat. So I don’t get fat. So I grow up and be a size zero. Nothing else is acceptable.”
“Sounds kind of shitty. Living like that.”
“My parents don’t treat me like their kid. They treat me like some kind of accessory. Something they own. That they can show off. Really crappy, huh?”
“You ever try talking to them about this stuff? Telling them how you feel?”
“They don’t listen. To ANYTHING I say. And they definitely don’t care how I feel. Or they wouldn’t force me to do things that I hate. And they definitely wouldn’t ignore me like they do; pass me off onto other people and take off for months at a time. What kind of parent does stuff like that?”
“A pretty shitty one.”
“That's why I don’t want to go back there. EVER. I love it here. It’s like I have an actual family now; people that love me and want me around and let me be who I want to be. I’m just a kid here. I can do kid stuff. With other kids! I’ve never even really had any friends. Not until Millie came along. And I’m surprised my folks even let me hang out with her.”
“You’re not allowed to have friends?”
“Not kid friends. Or at least not kid friends that aren’t forced into the same crap my parents force me into. Or worse, ones that actually like that stuff. I don’t want to be friends with people like THAT. Snobby people aren’t my style. And it’s weird ‘cause you guys have crazy money and you’re not snobby. You’re like this cool beach bum kinda family that doesn’t give a crap about what other people think. You don’t try to fit in with the rich people. You don’t even act like you have lots of money.”
“Neither Esme or I came from money. Our families were blue collar. At best. Didn’t have a lot of extra, sometimes things got bad and we were living week to week. And when we met, neither of us had much to bring into the relationship.”
“But you guys still got into it. Even knowing that. And now you’re crazy rich. Or that’s what Millie says. She says you can spend tons of cash in one day, every day and never run out.”
“It’s not something we’re scared of, that’s for sure.”
“But you’ve had to really work for it. Like, almost dying for it. She’s told some of the things that you’ve been through. The kind of people you go up against. I’d rather people like you be rich. You actually make a difference. You help people.”
“Sometimes. Sometimes I do other things.”
“But they deserve it, right? The ones that you DO kill? They’re really bad people.”
He nods. “Worst of the worst.”
“You’re doing the world a favor then. Less bad people, the better. You know, you’re not as scary as I thought you were going to be when we first met.”
A grin tugs at the corners of his mouth. “I was scary when we first met?”
“You’re insanely tall and crazy big and you just looked down at me with this really mean face and you were like ‘who are you?. I was really afraid, you know. You terrified me! I thought you hated me or something and I was afraid to even go inside! And then Millie told me that you were just giving me a hard time. ‘Cause you can.”
“And now? Now I don’t scare you?”
“What’s there to be really scared of? So you kill people sometimes. It’s not like you’re a mass murderer or anything,” Alannah reasons. “You’re getting rid of them for good reasons. Doesn’t make you a bad person. And it’s not like you’re that same guy at home.”
“You know…” He pours himself another bowl of cereal. “...you are starting to sound an awful lot like my wife. She says the same thing all the time.”
“Well I’ll take that as a compliment. She’s REALLY smart.”
“Yeah…” He smiles, despite the immense ache in his heart. “...she is.”
“And a really great mum. You both are. Great parents. The mom and dad I WISHED I had. You just let me be a kid. I mean, I still get scolded and punished if I do something wrong, but you guys are always fair about stuff. Always trying to teach us to be good people. To work hard for the things we want. And you don’t force us to be different people. Know what I mean?”
He nods. It had been one of the many things he and Esme had discussed when Millie was still crawling; how they wanted to raise her -and her unborn twin brothers- with FAIR discipline; no overreacting to situations, no yelling and berating, and certainly nothing ‘hands on’. They wanted to be parents they’d never had themselves; open minded and non judgemental. Determined to build their children up instead of tear them down; promising to allow them to be who they were destined to be instead of forcing them to ‘fake it until they make it’. They’d both grown up like that; stuck with single parents who didn’t allow them to express themselves or to explore their curious or creative sides. Tyler had had it worse; just a boy when his mother died and having all of his innocence and childhood beaten -and worse- out of him. And he’d sworn -just like he had with Austin- that he’d be nothing like his old man. He’d be compassionate, open minded, and patient; ; not afraid to show emotion or affection.
Things hadn’t gone exactly as planned the first time around; not understanding just how much trauma he was burdened with and how it was affecting him as an adult. He’d done everything wrong with Austin; his fears of loss, and not having control, and of being a failure turned out to be his worst enemies. Instead he’d concentrated more on being a soldier than a husband and dad; a physically strong yet emotionally weak man.
“I’m really going to hate leaving here,” Alannah says. “I don’t WANT to leave. I want to stay. I don’t want to go back to New York. To THAT life.”
“No one says you have to. Esme and I have told you tons of times. You can stay as long as you want. We love having you hear. So do the kids. Especially Millie.”
“What if I don’t ever want to leave?”
“We wouldn’t have a problem with that.”
“But MY parents would. They’d never agree to that. I’m scared of even bringing it up to them.”
“Then I’ll bring it up to them. Next time they call to check up on you.”
“You’d do that? For me?”
“Of course I would. You think I buy just anyone a custom surfboard?”
“No,” she smiles. “I don’t.”
“Don’t worry about your folks. Esme and I will handle it. Not the worst assholes we’ve ever dealt with, that’s for sure.”
Alannah giggles at that, then turns her attention to her bowl of cereal. For several minutes they sit in companionable silence; enjoying the welcoming relief from the day’s crippling humidity as a crisp, cool breeze passes through the open windows. Bringing with it the familiar scent of salt and the the sound of the tide as it rushes up onto the shore; accompanied by the delicate, melodious tinkling of the near dozen wind chimes Esme had long ago hung from a section of the deck’s roof. Most Mother’s Day presents; the oldest twins and Millie starting the tradition their first year in Cooktown. The remaining couple gifts that Millie had crafted by hand; some made from old china tea pots covered in a protective glaze and antique silverware used as the chimes and the other boasting several sections of various coloured stained glass.
Those memories…of helping his little girl, his miracle baby create those treasures, hits hard and deep. Despite how betrayed Millie had felt as a six year old, the love for her mother had always been evident; insisting on always creating Esme the most beautiful and thoughtful gifts she could. Birthdays, Mother’s Day, Christmas; Millie always found something incredible to craft for her mum. Hair clips, necklaces, earrings; all put away with the most expensive of jewelry in that locked cabinet in the master walk in closet. And Esme would always react the same way; shedding tears as she praised their first born and showered her with hugs and kisses.
The ache in his heart returns. With a vengeance. As do the intrusive, cruel thoughts. The questions no one can answer. Where she is now. Is she scared? Is she fighting like hell? Is she missing him just as badly as he’s missing her? And most importantly, is she okay? Are she and the baby hurt?
Are they even alive?
“I’m really sorry,” Alannah says, as if sensing his anguish. “About what happened. With Esme. I’ve been wanting to say that all day since we got home. I just haven’t gotten the chance. Hanging out with Millie and all. Making sure she’s okay.”
‘Thank you. It’s been…rough.”
“Do you have any idea who it might have been? Who took her?”
“I’m pretty sure I know who it is. In the same way I’m sure you don’t need to hear details.”
“I’m just worried. About Esme. She’s such a good person. She’s always been awesome with me. Right from the start she just welcomed me right into your guys’ lives and she’s treated way better than my own mother. If I could choose a mom, it would be her. I mean, she’s got all these kids but she’s always so sweet, you know? I know she yells sometimes and loses her patience from time to time, but she’s amazing. She’s got so much love. And she’s always smiling and laughing and always wanting to have fun. And she listens to my problems. I talk to her a lot, you know.”
“She told me that. That you guys talk a lot. About your life back home. About your folks.”
“I mean, I would talk to you about those things too. I guess I kind of am, now. But I always worry about bugging you. You’re always pretty busy.”
“You’d never bug me. Ever. I may not always have the best advice to give and I don’t understand girl problems like my wife does, but if you need someone to talk to…”
“I’m not annoying you now? Talking so much? I know sometimes you think people talk too much. You’re quiet. You don’t say much.”
“Sometimes I just don’t know what to say. Or I think maybe I’m not the best person to be saying anything. Doesn’t mean I’m not listening. So if you DO need to talk…”
“I’m really scared,” Alannah admits. “About what’s going on. About Esme being gone. About who has her. What they might be doing to her. Are you scared too?”
“I am,” Tyler admits. “I’m terrified, actually. About the same stuff. And if I’ll ever see her again.”
“Millie said you’re going to go and find her. In a couple days. When you feel a bit better. Is that true?”
“Yup. It’s true.”
“Is it wrong I hope you kill them? I’m not a violent person, but…”
“If you’re wrong for hoping that, then I’m REALLY wrong for the things I’m thinking.”
“Millie says there’s no doubt you’ll find her. And bring her back. If Millie says it’s going to happen, it’s definitely going to happen. She loves you a lot, you know. Idolizes you. Not that I blame her. You’re pretty cool.”
He grins. “I am, am I? That was always my hope when I started having kids. Be a cool dad.”
“You definitely are. Millie talks about you all the time. About all the stuff you do together. Even when she was just a little girl. She even told me about a bracelet she made you. When she was six. Before you went away and almost died. She said she gave it to you and you put it on right away. That’s pretty awesome.”
“Your kid makes you a bracelet, you wear the thing. No hesitations. I still have it too. Tucked away. Can’t wear it anymore. All worn out and falling apart. Can’t bear to get rid of it though.”
“She hasn’t talked about her mom much,” Alannah confesses. “I don’t know if it’s just shock or…”
“Millie and her mum don’t always see eye to eye. Their relationship has been a little…fragile…for a while now.”
“I know she loves her mum, though. She’s told me she does. That she wishes things could be better between them. I think she feels bad; ‘cause she’d said some mean things to Esme when they’ve argued. And now Esme’s gone and…” She sighs. “...Millie’s having a bad time. I know she’s tough and acts like a total bad ass and wants everyone to think she doesn’t care about anything, but that’s just an act. She’s my best friend. I see right through her.”
“Has she told you anything? About her mum? About how she’s feeling?”
“Not really. She just said that you’d go and find Esme and bring her home. And make the people pay for ever touching her. But I heard the things Millie WASN’T saying. I know she misses her mum. And that she’s really scared. About the same things you are.”
“I’m sure it’s hitting her a bit differently than the others. It’s hitting them all pretty bad, but…” Tyler shrugs. “...I knew it would gut her. That she’d have some guilt. I doubt she’ll talk to me about it, though. She’ll want to act all tough. She probably thinks she has to ‘cause of what I’m going through.”
“If you want, I can keep a closer eye on her. Try to get her to talk about things. It’s not good, you know. Keeping all that inside.”
“Believe me, I know that first hand. She definitely gets that from me; keeping things all bottled up. I appreciate it though. You keeping an eye on my girl.”
“It’s not a problem. I love Millie. She’s my best friend. She’s like my sister.”
Silence once more falls over them; the only sound the clink of metal against procealin as Alannah spoons the remains of the cereal milk into her mouth. And as she pushes the empty bowl away, her chin falls to her chest; a pout curving her lips as tears fill her eyes.
“I really don’t want to go back to New York. Ever. That’s not home.
Laying a hand on the back of her head, Tyler gently pulls her into him; fingers pressing through her hair to gently massage her scalp as his lips meet her temple. “Kiddo, THIS is your home.”
********
He wakes in the crowded confines of Takota’s bed; legs dangling over the end of the twin mattress and the five year old’s slumbering body plastered against his. Tiny arms wrapped securely around Tyler’s neck and a head perched upon his chest; Kota’s lips slightly open as he breathes slowly and rhythmically, droll gathered at the corner of his mouth and slowly dripping onto his father’s t-shirt. Despite the breeze tumbling through the open windows, Kota remains covered in a thin sheen of sweat; a by-product of the intense emotional meltdown that had seen his dad climbing into bed with him in the first place. The nightly ‘checking in’ turning into the most difficult and heart wrenching half an hour Tyler had ever gone through along; attempting to calm a sobbing and shrieking little one who was far beyond listening to any sense of reason. Mumma was gone and Kota’s entire world was crumbling beneath him; no one knew where she was and there’d been no sign of her and he remained convinced she was never coming back.
Where could she be? Why would the bad guys take her? Why would anyone want to hurt mumma? Why won’t they just let her go? Why can’t you just go and find her? Is she hiding from us? Did she really just run away? Why doesn’t she want to be with us anymore?
He had tried to reassure his son that no; his mother didn't run away; she’d never leave them and definitely wouldn’t STAY away unless she had no other choice. Stressing that she loved them all beyond all reason and comprehension; once fearing she’d never be a mother and then finding herself blessed with so many beautiful babies. She wouldn’t abandon her life; genuinely adoring her existence as a wife and mother and wanting nothing more than to be with them all. But in the end, there were so many other questions he didn’t have the answers to, and he’d found himself stumbling and stuttering despite the best of intentions; wanting nothing more than to pacify his son yet failing miserably at. And not having any viable explanations or solutions had only served to upset Takota even more. His face turning bright red and his entire body shuddering violently; ferocious sobbing soon turning to coughing, which then led to profuse and uncontrollable vomiting.
Even sitting in a tepid bath he’d remained a grieving, whimpering mess; devastated at the perceived permanent loss of his mother and his dad’s inability to answer his queries. After all, daddy knows EVERYTHING. He’s strong and he’s brave and he’s smarter than ANYONE the littles know. Except for mumma, of course. And there’s no bad guy he can’t beat up, no problem he can’t solve, and no monster he can’t chase away. If mumma IS somewhere out there, daddy of all people will be able to find her.
So why wasn’t he?
Takota hadn’t meant any harm; he’s sweet and precocious and doesn’t have a vicious bone in his body. The one that cries if a spider or fly in the house is captured and killed instead of set free. Shedding buckets of huge, innocent tears as he laments about how they won’t be returning to their families; maybe they had mummies and daddies and babies of their own and now they’d never see them again. He’s quiet and introspective; some days seeming wise beyond his years and possessing an enormous heart and a phenomenal amount of compassion for someone so little. Sensitive and empathetic to a fault; his moods greatly affected something as simple as the weather to more greater forces like the behaviors and temperaments of all those around him.
Within the last couple of months he’s become increasingly attached to his mother; glued to her hip when he’s home from school and following her from room to room and then pitching fits when he’s separated from her for even small amounts of time. Insisting on helping in the garden and with the animals even though he’s constantly underfoot and in danger of getting hurt; becoming anxious when he feels his mum is ‘too far away’ or not his line of sight. And while TJ had been a ‘mumma’s boy’ and exceptionally needy from the time he was a baby until he started school, Takota requires so much more and to a level neither his mother or father have ever dealt with. Showing many signs that Tanner had shown prior to his Autism diagnosis, yet on a far more intense scale.
While mumma is the preferred parent, dad’s arms had done in a pinch; Takota requesting -through another round of chest heaving sobs and loud sniffles- that he be held ‘as tight as you can without smooshing me’. It hadn’t been the easiest feat; his patience wearing uncharacteristically thin and the smallest of movements created by the right side of his body escalating his pain to astronomical levels. But he’d managed; the five year old clutched tightly to his chest as he repeatedly paced the upstairs hallway. Reminiscent of the days of tending to colicky infants and teething babies and feverish toddlers; hours spent walking the house or even the beach in an effort to soothe them. Back then, he’d been enough for them; accepting his embrace and the warmth of his body and the sound of his voice while their exhausted mother managed an extra few hours of sleep.
Takota had finally settled; sobs turning to whimpers and whimpers dying down to sniffles. His arms falling from around his father’s neck to hang loosely at his sides; eyelashes fluttering as he fought a vain battle against exhaustion. The true fight had been to get him tucked into his bed without waking him; a feat Tyler had accomplished many times before but had seen him quickly throwing in the towel. Kota not quite down for the count; eyes snapping open the moment the warmth of his dad’s arms were replaced by the touch of cool, smooth sheets. The sadness immediately returning; a pout forming on tiny lips as tears once again threatened.
“Don’t go, daddy.” Little hands had desperately reached up for him. “Don’t leave too.”
After ten minutes kneeling at the side of the bed and stroking his son’s back hadn’t sufficed, he’d given up and climbed into bed right alongside of him; arms enveloping Kota’s much smaller, lighter frame as he pulled the little one on top of him. His own weary body had found it incredibly soothing; the warmth of Takota’s skin and the smell of his hair and the tickle of soft, sweet breath against the side of his neck. Able to fight through the pain centered in his injured hand as he rubbed his son’s back in slow, smooth circles; fingers of his good hand moving through Kota’s hair as he whispered words of comfort and pressed an endless supply of kisses to the little one’s forehead. Both finally succumbing to sleep; physically and mentally worn out from the roller coaster emotions and the profound heartache.
Running his fingers through Kota’s sweat-dampened hair, he presses a series of feathery kisses to his son’s forehead and then carefully rolls onto his side. Settling the little one in the midst of his rumpled sheets and his selection of favorite stuffed animals, Tyler slowly and gingerly slips out of bed; grimacing in pain the moment his feet hit the floor. Even tucking Kota in seems like a chore; the simple act of fetching the comforter off the floor and spreading it over his tiny, slumbering form leaves droplets of sweat across his brow and at his temples. He’s due meds soon; four hours passing since the last time he’d downed a couple of painkillers. Shaena insisting on keeping them under lock and key; his fragile mental state can’t be trusted and he’s already commented -in passing- that he wishes he had something stronger. Something that could do a bit more than just take the edge off and soothe both his physical AND emotional anguish.
The bedroom door clicks open just as Tyler turns towards it; Declan illuminated by the glow of the hallway night light as he stands on the threshold.
“Dad?” His voice is a harsh whisper. “Is everything alright? Are you alive?”
“Everything’s alright. What are you doing up? Shouldn’t you be sleeping?”
“I can’t,” Declan laments, stepping into the room and leaving the door open a crack; abiding by Takota’s long standing wishes that he’s never left alone in the dark. “I was too worried. About Kota. He was really upset. I’ve seen him pretty worked up, but I’ve never seen him like that.”
“Yeah, he had a rough time of it. He’s okay. For now. Out like a light.”
“Do you want me to lie with him? Just so he’s not alone? I know it can’t be comfortable; a giant like you sleeping in a little kid’s bed.”
“You should be in bed. Should have been there hours ago.”
“I know.” Sighing, Declan wraps his arms around his stocky frame; palms rubbing at his bare upper arms. “But things are really weird right now and my brain doesn’t want to shut off and I’m worried if I DO fall asleep, I’m gonna have bad dreams. And I don’t really want to be alone but I don’t wanna bug TJ or Tanner, so…”
Reaching out, he clears bright red bangs from his son’s eyes. “You want to come and hang out with me? I was going to go and sit outside for a bit. Try to relax my own brain. Wanna come with? You can tell me what’s going on if you want. Inside that head of yours.
“I love you dad and I like hangin’ with you, but I don’t really feel like it. I’m not ready to talk about things. Especially about mum. It hurts too much. To talk about her.”
“Yeah, I can understand that. It’s hurting me a hell of a lot too. You know where to find me, yeah? When you ARE ready to talk about her?”
Declan nods. “It’s just too hard right now. I’m too sad. I miss her. A lot.”
“So do I, mate. I miss her a hell of a lot. But I won’t push ya. When you’re ready, you come find me. Deal?”
“Deal. I think I’ll sleep with Kota. He might wake up and get sad again and he’ll need someone to cuddle. I don’t mind taking care of him, dad. I don’t mind cuddling him.”
“Something tells me you need cuddling too.”
“I’ll never admit to that. Ever. Do YOU ever admit to it? With mum?”
“No. But I don’t need to. She just knows. Try and get some sleep, okay?” Taking Declan’s face in his hands, he presses a kiss to his forehead, bridge of the nose, and then lips. “I know it’s hard. Considering everything that’s going on right now and how sad and worried you are. But just try. That’s all I’m asking.”
“I’ll try,” the eight year old promises, and then carefully climbs into bed next to his sleeping brother; pausing when he reaches for the blankets. “Dad? I know I’m getting too old for it and all my friends and everyone at school would make fun of me for it, but could you tuck me in? Just this once?”
“You know you’re never too old for that, yeah? Getting tucked in?”
“Guys my age DON’T get tucked in by their mums or dads. But…” Declan laces his fingers together and places his joined hands at the nape of his neck. “...I DO kinda like it. It makes me feel safe; all tucked in tight and stuff. Nothing bad can get me. So if I tell you DO want it done more often…?”
“Your secret’s safe with me,” Tyler assures him, and securely tucks the sheets and lone comforter around both Declan and Takota’s bodies. “Get some sleep, mate. Tomorrow will be a little better.”
“It’s not going to be better until mum is home. That’s the only way things will be okay again. When you find her and bring her back. You’re going to, yeah? Go and find her?”
“Just need a couple days to heal a bit. Get a plan going. But yeah, I’m gonna find her. Bring her back to you guys.”
“I don’t doubt it one bit, you know. I KNOW you’ll find her. And she’ll be soooo happy to see you. You don’t think the bad guys will hurt her, do you?”
“I don’t think they’re that stupid. I think they know what will happen to them if they do. Now…” Good hand resting on the mattress, he leans down and drops a kiss on the top of Declan’s head. “...sleep. Please.”
“I’ll try. And I’ll take care of Kota if he wakes up. So you can sleep too. I love you, dad. Bunches.”
“I love you, too. You’re a good big brother, you know that? Helping Kota like this.”
“He’s just a little guy. And he’s scared. That mumma won’t come home. He misses her. A lot. I miss her too. Think she misses us?”
“I know she does. Close your eyes, Decks. Try to rest at least. I know it’s been a tough day.”
“If I’m being honest, Kota will help ME too. I didn’t really want to be alone. Night, dad. You try to sleep too.”
“I will.” Lovingly ruffling his son’s hair, he steps away from the bed; Declan stopping him by reaching out and grabbing hold of his hand.
“Dad? Are you alright? Are you okay?”
“No, mate,” he admits, and presses a kiss to his son’s brow. “I’m not.”
*****
“She’s NOT gone forever, Addie. Just for a little while.”
“You don’t know that.”
“I DO know that. Because daddy said so. Daddy said in a couple days, he’s going to go and look for her and find her. And when he does he’ll bring her home with him and everything will go back to normal.”
Tyler listens to the conversation from the other side of Addie’s door; heart aching as his fingers curl around the handle. On his way to finally collapse into his own, he’d heard his daughters’ whispers and seen the faint glow of Adddie’s bedside lamp. A mermaid that Andy had painstakingly created by hand by using various colors of twisted metal and chunks of sea glass. Topped by pink shade adorned with dangling crystals and given to her at her fifth birthday; easily securing his status as her favorite uncle.
“What if it doesn’t?” Addie inquires. “What if things never go back to normal?”
“Why wouldn’t they? Daddy goes away all the time, yeah? To fight the bad guys. He always comes back, doesn’t he? ALWAYS, And if anyone can beat up the bad guys and bring mumma back, it’s him.”
“But what if he can’t? What if he can’t find mumma?”
“Addie, that’s silly talk,” Brooklyn gently scolds. “ That shouldn’t even be a question. Daddy’s been finding people for a long time. That’s his job! He was doing that job long before he ever helped put us in mummy's tum. He was doing it before he even MET mumma.”
“That IS a long time ago.”
“Don’t worry. Daddy will find her. I know he will. I wouldn’t lie to you. Have I EVER lied to you?”
“You lie about liking the American Girl store. And about wearing princess dresses.”
“I never lied about those things!. You know I don’t like them. I TOLD you so. But I do it ‘cause you love that stuff. And it makes you happy when I do those things with you. It’s what sisters do, yeah? What BESTIES do. I mean, you don’t like Monster High dolls or going into haunted houses on Halloween, but…”
“They scare me. It’s too dark inside. And there’s weird things touching me and spooky noises and then monsters jump out at me. I don’t like them jumping out at me.”
“But you still go in them. ‘Cause I like them. And you’re not that scared when I’m with you, right? Or when daddy’s with us?”
“Daddy always holds one hand, you hold the other. And you let me hide behind you. You and daddy make me feel brave. And safe.”
“You know how we always promise you that none of the bad things are going to hurt you? That we’re going to stick right with you and not leave you by yourself? Have we EVER broken that promise?”
“No. Never. Daddy would never break a promise.”
“And neither would I. If daddy says he’s going to bring mumma home, then he’s going to bring mumma home. He wouldn’t lie about that. I promise you that he’s telling the truth. Would I promise you if I wasn’t completely sure?”
“No. I ‘spose not.”
“Daddy will find mumma. He said he would. And he wouldn’t say it if he didn’t mean it. It’s going to be okay, Addie. Mumma will come home. Things will be like they were before.”
“I hope so. It wouldn’t be the same. Without mumma. Things are awesome ‘cause of her. And daddy. ‘Cause they’re a team. It’s not right if one of them isn’t here.”
“Mumma will be here,” Brooklyn firmly stresses. “For a long time. I promise. I’d never break a promise to you. Ever. Now, it’s late. We should try and get some sleep. Maybe we’ll feel a bit better when we get up. Maybe daddy or Auntie Stel will take us down to the beach. We can go rock hunting. We can find ones to paint. Want me to stay here with you?”
“You don’t mind? Staying with me?”
“Of course not. You’re my sister. My bestie. I love you. There’s nothing I wouldn’t do for you. Do you want a drink of water? Before I tuck you back in?”
“No. But I want daddy. I want a daddy hug. And a kiss. I want him to tuck me in.”
“Alright. I’ll go and find him. Even if I have to wake him up. You just wait here, Ads. I’ll be back.”
“You’re brave Brookie. Going out there. It’s dark in the hall.”
“I’ll take the monster spray that daddy made you. Would you feel better if I did?”
“Yeah. ‘Cause then I know you won’t get eaten by one.”
“Oh don’t worry about me. I’d just punch him in the nose. Or roar really loud and scare him. No one can hurt me. You wait here, ‘kay? I’ll go and get daddy.”
As he hears Brookie’s footfalls approach the door, he raps his knuckles against the wood. “Can I come in?”
“Daddy!” Brooklyn gives a happy cry, and the door handle rattles as she twists it. “Daddy’s here, Addie. He knew! He knew you needed a cuddle!” Hurriedly throwing open the door, she wraps her around his legs, squeezing as tightly as she can and then tipping her head back and beaming up at him. “Hi, dad.”
“Hey. What’s going on? Everything okay in here? Awfully late for you two to still be up.”
“I’m okay, but Addie’s having a rough time. About mummy being missing. She’s really sad. No matter what I say, it doesn’t help. Maybe you can help her? I don’t like when Addie is super sad. It hurts my heart.”
“I can definitely help. But…” Laying a hand on the top of her head, his palm slowly drifts over and down her hair. “...are you sure you’re okay? ‘Cause it’s alright if you’re not.”
Stepping out into the hallway, Brooklyn takes one of his hands in both of hers and then tugs him away from the door. “Daddy…” her voice sits just above a whisper. “...can you keep a secret?”
“Have I ever NOT kept any of yours?”
“You can’t tell Addie what I’m about to say. Promise you won’t tell her.”
“I promise. I won’t say a word.”
“I’m really not okay. I’m scared and I’m sad and...” Her voice cracks with emotion and in the glow of the nightlight, he can see the tears welling in his daughter’s eyes. “...I miss mummy very, very, VERY much. But Addie needs me. She needs me to be strong. To take care of her. So don’t tell her how I really feel, okay?”
“I won’t. But you have to promise ME something. In return.”
“Okay…”
“You have to promise me that when Addie isn’t around and you’re feeling sad and scared, you come to me and talk about those things. When you’re really missing your mumma, you make sure you find me and we’ll chat about it, alright?”
“Alright, daddy. I promise I will. And you’ll talk to me too, yeah? If you’re feeling sad and scared? ‘Cause you usually talk to mummy about that stuff but she’s not here so you need someone else. I’ll be that someone else, okay?”
“Okay,” he agrees, and drops a kiss on the top of her head. “You’re a very special girl, Brookie. You’re tough and you’re strong and you’re incredible. Just like your mumma. So much like her.”
“And a lot like you too, daddy. It’s why I’m so awesome. ‘Cause I’m like BOTH of you. I’m the best of both worlds.”
“That you are. You going to be okay right now? While I deal with Addie?”
“Addie needs me to be. Don’t worry, daddy. I’ll keep it together.”
Laying a hand on the back of her head, he gently steers her towards the door and into Addie’s room. Emotion claws at him as he approaches the bed, unraveling at the sight of his normally vibrant little one looking so sad and lost. An enormous pout curving her lips and tears sparkling in her eyes; lower lip and chin wobbling as she bravely fights to keep her composure.
All of six years old, she’s been bringing so much light and happiness into their lives since she was just an infant; making some of his hardest and most trying days so much easier to bear. The first Rake baby that had had him full time in their life from day one; the first pregnancy that he was able to totally commit to being a part of. He had walked away from the job and moved his family to his homeland and had been able to concentrate on being nothing more than a husband and a father; doting on his pregnant wife and attending every doctor’s appointment and becoming the hands on dad that he’d always promised he’d be. And Addie had given so much to him in return; bringing sunlight and hope and optimism during those long and excruciating days after the attack by Nathan. He’d been laid up and unable to even do the basic things for himself, yet he could still spend time with her; feeding her and mastering changing a diaper with one hand and falling asleep with her perched upon his chest. Their bond beginning long before Addie had ever said her first word or taken her first steps; relying on that impossibly tiny infant to give him a purpose and a reason to keep going.
He drops to a knee at the side of the bed as Brooklyn scrambles onto it, then reaches out to run a hand over Addie’s hair. “What’s going on, Peanut? Talk to me.”
“Tell daddy, Ads,” Brookie encourages, as she scrambles onto the bed. “He’s trying to make you feel better.”
“Nothing can make me feel better,” Addie laments. “Nothing.”
“Well try me,” Tyler presses a kiss to her forehead. “Please.”
“I’m sad. My heart hurts. And my tummy.”
“I’ll get you the heating pad. For your tummy. And I know you’re sad, Addie. I know how much you love mumma. I know this is hard on you.”
“I miss her. I already missed her because she was gone with you. But now I miss her EXTRA. And I don’t know if I’m ever going to see her again.”
“Mumma’s going to come home,” he assures her; palm resting on the top of her head, thumb repeatedly brushing against her brow. “I’m gonna make sure of it.”
“When?”
“I just need a couple days. So my body can start feeling better. And I get a team together to help out. But she IS coming home, Addie. I promise you.”
“You’ll find her? You’ll go look for her yourself?”
“Of course. I don’t trust anyone else enough to do it right. You guys will be okay? With Nanny Stel? While I go and get things done?”
Addie nods.
“I am going to find your mummy, Peanut. It’s not a question of ‘if’, but a question of ‘when’. I’m not sure how long it’s going to take, but I WILL find her.”
“Do you think the bad people are hurting her?”
“I don’t know. I wish I did. But IF they are, they won’t get away with it.”
“You’ll make them pay? You’ll hurt them back?”
“As much and as painful as I can. Your mumma doesn’t deserve this. Bad people taking her and hurting her. She’s the last person that deserves it.”
“I don’t understand why they’d want to hurt mumma? Mumma didn’t do anything wrong. Mumma’s sweet and nice and takes good care of us. Why would anyone take her?”
“I don’t know. Babe. But I’m going to find out. All that matters right now, is that I will find her and bring her back. To you and your brothers and sisters. I’ll bring mumma home.”
“You promise?”
“I promise. I will do whatever it takes to bring your mumma back to you. Have I ever broken a promise to you?”
Addie shakes her head.
“Mumma’s coming home,” he assures her, and presses a kiss to the bridge of her nose. “Do you feel better now? At least a little bit?”
“Yeah. But you know what would make me feel even better? If you snuggled with me and Brookie.”
“I’ll tell you what, why don’t you guys come into the big bed with me. ‘Cause I don’t think my body can handle falling asleep in your little bed. Wanna come in the mummy and daddy room with me?”
“Can we use mumma’s pillows?”
He nods.
“Can we wear something of hers?” Brooklyn pipes up “Like t-shirts from the laundry? I know that would make me feel better; if I wear something that smells like her.”
“Pillows and t-shirts. Got it. Come on…” Both knees crack as he stands; a hand under Addie’s arm as he helps her to her feet and then scoops her out of bed. “...let’s go. Time for sleep. It’s late.”
“It’s okay, daddy,” Brookie says, when he reaches for her. “You don’t have to carry me. I know that hand is really sore. I can walk. I’ll bring Blankie and Fredrick. Addie can’t sleep without them.”
Gathering the tattered and worn receiving blanket and stuffed koala in question, she stands on her tiptoes as she flicks off the bedroom light and she hurries after her father and sister. Calling to the dogs as they lay curled up together at the top landing; their usual spot until all the lights in the house are off and they begin their nightly routine. Spending a good chunk of it paying repeated visits to each of the kids’ rooms; sniffing and gently pawing at slumbering forms as they sit at the sides of beds and keep vigils over their tiny charges. Eventually, when everything is to their satisfaction, they move on permanently; making their way into the master and settling at the end of the bed or sprawling on the couches in the sitting area.
“Don’t trip me!” Brooklyn scolds, as the dogs consistently step into her path. “Don’t hurt me, you stinky, hairy beasts!”
Tyler laughs at that; clearly hearing Esme’s voice. Remembering a time -when Addie had been a mere three weeks old- when they’d retreated to the sanctity and comfort of the beach after all the kiddos had been tucked in bed. She had said exactly those same words; grumbling at Mac for being stinky and hairy and urging him to give up his resting space alongside Tyler.
“I know he’s your person,” she’d said. “But he’s MY person too.”
It had made him emotional. Hearing THAT kind of declaration. Never once in the course of their marriage had he doubted her love for him, but he’d never known just how deep and profound that love and the bond between them actually ran. They’d already been through so much. Esme giving up her old life in favor of staying by his side in Dhaka and then following him to Australia. His painful and arduous journey back to health and his stint in rehab. Thrust into family; a baby on the way learning how to cohabitate at the same time as actually getting to know each other. And a marriage only six months after they met; knowing they wanted to spend the rest of their existences together and willing to do whatever it took to make it work.
Things hadn’t gone according to plan. Both had tremendous amounts of baggage and years of trauma weighing them down; neither knowing how to deal with it independently or how to help the other. The news that their twin were sick and one -or both- may not make it into the world; the profound worry regarding the boys’ health and Esme’s combined with the terror that came at the thought of losing any of them. And he'd been consumed by the feeling of failure; concerned he wouldn’t be able to continue paying a mortgage and putting food on the table with the meager wages he was earning owning his own business as a handy-man/laborer. He had no real skills; he hadn’t gone to college and everything he did know about demolitions and renos had come from first hand experience. He’d gone back to the job without even consulting his pregnant wife, informing her only the night before his first mission that he’d gone back into the mercenary life. Arguing that it was what was best for their family; the payout was great and he was confident in his skills, instincts, and strengths. As far as he was concerned, it was easy money.
It was all downhill from there. She was resentful of him; furious that he hadn’t included her in a very important decision while she was already so vulnerable. But she’d been determined to stick by him; assuring him that she could handle being the wife of a mercenary if he promised not to take the most dangerous of jobs and that he would always put her and their children first. Initially he’d kept his word; until the payouts for bigger and tougher jobs became too hard to resist. With them came injuries and in turn, the need for pain meds and other ways to ease both his physical and mental agony. And he’d kept on top of things; knowing his limits and able to stop himself if he felt he was losing control. But then she lost their third baby and the grief was more than he could take; shelving his own feelings and emotions aside in favor of taking care of her. Suddenly he was an active alcoholic and addict again and his life was falling apart; he was disgusted and angry with himself and unfortunately took it out on her. Six months apart would follow and he’d turn into an even bigger mess; missing visitations with the kids, taking the most dangerous jobs possible in hopes it would put him out of his misery, spending each sober moment wondering when the divorce papers would be showing up.
But then one night she’d called him; in tears and begging him to come home. One on stipulation; he had to agree to follow a list of specific requests. He had to attend both individual and couples therapy and consent to anger management counselling. And most important of all, he had to go back to rehab; she wouldn’t live with an alcoholic or a drug addict and she refused to subject their children to that environment. He’d willingly gone along with each of her ultimatums, and when he returned home six weeks later, he was clean and sober. And ready to be the man that she needed, wanted and deserved.
That was the day he vowed, from that moment on, he’d do whatever it took to keep their marriage and family together.
As the girls get settled into bed and select which of their mother’s pillows to sleep with, he rummages through the dirty laundry hamper in the walk-in in hopes of locating fairly tidy shirts from them to wear. Selecting two of the oldest in Esme’s wardrobe; the colors long faded and the fabric bearing paint stains from when they’d taken on the chore of tidying up the old farmhouse in an attempt to turn it into a beautiful, comfortable home. He paused on the threshold; chewing absentmindedly on his bottom lip as stares down at the garments clutched tightly in his hands. And he’s unable to stop himself; his eyes closing as he lifts the shirts to his face and inhales deeply. Taking in that familiar scent; milk and honey and a touch of coconut body spray. A smell that always reminds him of home. Of a warm, safe place and how her smile and her kiss and her arms are the only forms of escape he needs.
Struggling to hold back a flood of warring emotions, he takes the shirts to the girls; sitting in the middle of the bed as they yawn noisily and press the heels of their palms into their tired eyes. And once they’re settled with their heads upon their mother’s pillows, he tends to the lights and joins them. Crawling into the space between their tiny bodies and then wrapping his arms around them, drawing them tightly and securely into his sides.
“I love you, daddy,” Addie’s lips meet his cheek; letting loose an exhausted giggle when his beard tickles her skin.
“I love you too,” Brookie chirps, and presses a noisy kiss to the corner of his mouth. “Bunches!”
“I love you guys,” he says, as his nose nuzzles the top of Addie’s head, then her sister’s. “I love you both so much. More than you will ever know.”
“Maybe tomorrow will be better.” With a fresh round of tears sparkling in her eyes, Addie gives a wistful sigh. “Maybe tomorrow we won’t be as sad. ‘Cause we know you’re gonna find mumma. You will, right daddy? Find her?”
“I will,” Tyler assures her. “I WILL find her. No matter what it takes.”
#Tyler Rake#Tyler Rake fan fiction#Extraction#Extraction fan fiction#chris hemsworth#chris hemsworth extraction#Tyler Rake fan fic#Extraction fan ficiton#Tyler and Esme series#Esme Rake#Rake kids#Tyler Rake x OFC
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Never Gonna Be Alone- Chapter 44
Title: Aftermath
Warnings: angst, profanity, mention of a suicide attempt, talk of mental illness
Tagging: @c-a-v-a-l-r-y, @alievans007, @innerpaperexpertcloud, @miss-smutty, @tragiclyhip
Or read on Ao3 if that’s more your jam: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28860450/chapters/77430731
He spends the first ten minutes fighting off a panic attack. Chest impossibly tight and feeling as if it’s on fire; heart pounding and his hands trembling and a thin sheen of sweat coating his brow and gathering along his hairline. Head swimming and stomach lurching; the burn and the taste of bile as it gathers in the back of his throat. Legs threatening to give out from underneath him; forced to sit on the kitchen floor with his eyes closed as he leans back against the cupboards. Reminding himself to just breathe; drawing in deep, ragged breaths and releasing them slowly. Easily recalling one of many grounding exercises Doctor Klein had instilled in him years ago. A quick and surprisingly successful technique that he’s employed numerous times when he’s been alone; terrified he’d finally reached his breaking point and was in the process of losing his mind. And he can hear the man’s voice now; five things you can see, four things you can touch, three you can hear, two you can smell, and one you can taste. Relief surging through him when it begins to work. The nausea abating and the room no longer spinning around him; heart rhythm slowing and the vice around his chest loosening.
The first time he’d an episode, he’d thought he was having a heart attack. Waking up from a dead sleep and finding himself filled with the most profound and overwhelming sense of terror and impending dread; the walls feeling as if they were closing around him and the pain and the tightness in his chest near crippling. He couldn’t even be sure if he’d been dreaming; if a nightmare filled with horrendous images of his wife and children being physically and sexually tortured had been what kickstarted things. It wouldn’t have been the first time. Horrific and brutal dreams involving his family tearing him out of many a night’s rest; sending him scrambling for the bathroom in order to vomit and then finding him sobbing uncontrollably in a fetal position on the floor. Taking several minutes for him to reach full consciousness; brain finally able to register his surroundings and identify them as familiar and convince him that he -and his family- were safe and sound. Suddenly aware of the touch of his wife’s hands and the sound of her voice. Finding her kneeling beside him and speaking to him in that soothing and patient way she’d long ago developed just for him; a palm moving in slow circles in the middle of his back as the fingers of her other hand repeatedly combed through his hair. Neither worry of fear clouding her eyes or furrowing her brow; displaying nothing but love and understanding and tenderness. She was no stranger to those kinds of moments; she’d seen many a fellow Marine wake up in the field in the midst of a panic attack or a night terror and had watched the methods deployed by field medics in how to properly handle them.
While he’d been comforted by the way she’d handled things before AND after, he’d also felt ashamed; sickened that she’d had to not only witness him at his most vulnerable, but be the one to render aid. Toxic masculinity, she’d said, when he’d admitted how pathetic it had made him feel; a woman half his size having to take care of HIM. Years having it drilled into him that any sign of weakness or display of emotion made him a lesser man; one that would never be respected or able to properly provide for his family, never mind protect them. She’d never laughed at the ridiculousness of it; never told him to simply get over that line of thinking or looked at him as if he WERE losing his mind. Instead listening quietly and intently; alternating between rubbing his shoulders or holding one of his hands in both of her own as he talked about all the ways his father had attempted to ‘teach’ him how a real man should be. Stern and strict. Controlling. Intimidating. Abusive. Admitting he was terrified of one day cracking and following in his own man’s footsteps; worried he’d begin treating her just as horrible as his mother had been so many years ago. And she’d leaned in to kiss him; cradling his face in her hands and using her thumbs to clear away the wayward tears that trickled down his cheeks. Pulling back and gracing him with that smile that’s always been reserved solely for him; so beautiful and pure and perfect and letting him know just how much he IS loved.
“You could NEVER be like him,” she’d assured him. “Ever. You have too good of a heart. Too big of one. And you love me way too much.”
It’s always been humbling; the blind faith she has in him, the adoration and respect she’s consistently shown. Over the years he’s battled with the belief that he doesn’t deserve any of it; this beautiful and incredible woman so full of light and brightness showing that kind of affection and love towards him. The one person solely responsible for everything that is good in his world; a stable home surrounded by the comfort and security that comes with the familiarity and routine of domestic bliss, seven incredible children that are the embodiment of everything that is amazing and beautiful about the two of them. She’d not only saved him that day on the Sultana Bridge, but in so many other ways as well; her patience and her unwavering loyalty and steadfast belief in him always helping him through every battle he’s faced
The one true constant in his life; the sleepy smile he wakes up to every morning and the warm body that presses against his and the tender touch and the soft kiss that he’s blessed with every night. His most steadfast supporter and cheerleader; spending weeks sleeping on fold out beds alongside of him in the hospital, always there in the recovery room when he comes to after a surgery, attending gruelling physiotherapy appointments and even lending a hand when she was heavily pregnant with Takota and Brooklyn. Never letting his misguided anger and frustration bring her down; always quick with a smile or a kiss to his cheek or a comforting and encouraging hand rubbing his back. No matter what, he’s always been able to rely on her being there. Enthusiastically greeting him the moment he walks through the door; whether he’s been gone a couple of days or a couple of weeks. Always happy to see him even if it’s through a FaceTime session; all the tension and the stress of the job evaporating the second she smiles and he hears her voice. Those little trips she’ll make into the gym or the office; bringing him something to drink or eat and then sitting quietly on the sidelines waiting for him to finish his workout or his job responsibilities. She’s always been there. Even during the darker and the more trying times; taking him back time and time again and forgiving the lies he’s told and overlooking the promises he’s broken.
When she leaves, he attempts to chase after her. Prepared to beg and plead with her to forget everything he’d said about wanting to die; just come back to the house where she’s safe and warm. He’ll do whatever it takes to make things right. To fix the mess that exists inside his head and become the man that she deserves; the rock and the fervent supporter and ferocious protector that she’s always believed him to be and he’s failed to live up to time and time again. He’ll tell her whatever she wants to hear; make promises that he fully intends to keep, attend more therapy if that’s what it will take, even do a stint in rehab to get all the carvings for the meds and the booze out of his system. There’s nothing he WON’T do for her; no monster or demon he won’t slay for her, no battle he won’t fight, no war he won’t suit up for. As long as she’ll just stay. Come back to their home and their children and their marriage; fulfill those vows of ‘til death to us part’. He wants to believe it isn’t about him; her need for breathing room and space. But he knows full well that he’s put too much of a burden on her; time and time again leaning on her and expecting her to give way more than she possibly has to give.
He has one foot out the door when the signs of life sounded from the floor above; giggling children and doors being tossed open and little feet racing for the bathrooms. And he has to abandon all plans on going after her; forcing himself to get his shit together for the sake of his children. There’s morning cuddles and kisses to give and mouths to feed. Tales of wild and vivid dreams to listen to and smart ass comments and jokes to laugh at. They rely on him more than she does; a grown woman that is fully capable of handling her own no matter what situation she finds herself tossed into. She’s strong and tenacious and extremely resilient; not needing him, but choosing to be with him and enjoying being provided for and loved and protected. His children fully depend on him; requiring him to put food in their bellies, having to assist the littles in getting clean up and dressed, being Tanner’s ‘person’ when it comes to needing stability and routine. And it frightens him in a way. The realization that she actually doesn’t require him; knowing full well that she’s more than capable of taking care of herself and their seven children. It further feeds into his belief that walking away would be easy for her; her strength and confidence urging to make a break for it. So self sufficient and so independent that one day she WILL decide that it’s all too much. HE’S too much. And his entire life will be forever altered.
TJ and Declan team up to keep the smallest kids busy; hunkering down with them in the living room and plying them with cartoons and their standard ‘appetizers’ of glasses of chocolate milk and poptarts. He tends to preparing breakfast; scrambling eggs and cutting and chopping various fresh fruits. Tanner stands on a chair beside him; excitedly rambling as he shares every detail about the extremely vivid and excited dream from the night before. Always the helper in the kitchen, he enthusiastically mixes three separate bowls of pancake mix because he always insists that ‘extras’ be added BEFORE starting the cooking process; bananas and chocolate chips for Brooklyn, raspberries and pineapple for Alannah and Millie. Tanner was the one he’d been most worried about; concerned that his mother’s uncharacteristic absence would frighten him and send his emotions into a tailspin. She hasn't just been Tyler’s constant, but the kids’ as well; practically raising them singlehandedly due to the job keeping away from home for weeks at a time. She’d spent six months being the only full time parent. Exhausting herself with caring not only for a home, but three preschoolers as well; Millie just shy of entering junior kindergarten and the boys still in daycare.
Mummy has always been there for ALL of the kids. Nurturing them and caring for them and spending the better part of seven years pregnant; selflessly sacrificing her body and some of her sanity in order to give him the large family he so desperately craved. Waiting until they were all old enough to be out of the house to make her dream of owning the bookstore come true; able to work around school and daycare schedules so she could spend as much as time as possible with them. And while it had been difficult at first for them to adjust to her being gone for prolonged periods of time, they’ve gotten used to it; accustomed with mum and dad going away -ALONE- for a week or two in order to give one another the attention and the time that they so rightfully deserve. They’re all strong in the belief and that faith that mummy will ALWAYS come back; never once fearing that if once she walks out the door, she’ll never walk back in. Mummy would NEVER abandon them.
It’s helped; keeping his body and his mind active. Concentrating on the simple task of making a meal and focusing on every word tumbling from Tanner’s mouth. Hearing the giggles and the conversations that drift into the kitchen from the living room. But the worry and the fear still nibble at him. It’s two fold; concerned not only that her time to think will lead her to the realization that she simply can’t deal with him and his issues any longer, and that there’s someone out there that would take advantage of her being alone. IF the neighbour is a threat, she isn’t working alone; too ‘out there’ with her curiosity surrounding him and his family to be the one in charge. It would be too obvious; her desperate attempts to get closer to him and cause issues in his marriage. Anyone with any background knowledge of him knows exactly what would hobble and weaken him; grabbing a hold of his wife and using her as a leverage. And as much as he tries not to allow his mind to go down that rabbit hole, it’s inevitable. The thoughts of what they’d do to her -mentally AND physically- enough to once again bring about the panic; chest tightening and his heart initially fluttering and then the pace quickening.
Five things you can see. Four you can touch. Three you can hear. Two you can smell. One you can taste.
He repeats it over and over again in his head. Thankful when his chest loosens and the nausea and the light headedness pass and his hands no longer tremble.
*****
Addie’s the last to join the family. Chin tucked into her chest and her hair falling over her face; a dramatic pout curving her lips and her normally brilliant and sparkling eyes dark and brimming with tears. Frederick the koala tucked tightly under her arm; not saying a word as she struggles to climb onto Tanner’s now empty chair. Impossibly tiny for five, but filled with confidence and independence and resiliency.
“What’s up with you?” Tyler inquires, and drops a kiss on the top of her head. “You look like someone kicked your puppy. Didn’t sleep well?”
“I slept fine.” That voice is tinier than usual, sad and full of despair. And she brushes her hair away from her face and presses the heel of a palm into one eye, then the other. “Where’s mummy?”
“She had to go out for a little bit.”
“Where? Where did she have to go?”
“To do stuff.”
“What kind of stuff?”
“Mummy stuff. Things mummies do.”
“Did she go to the store? Is that where she went?”
“I don’t know, Peanut. She just had to go out.”
She heaves a heavy, forlorn sigh. “When will she be back?”
“Soon.”
“How soon?”
He consults the digital clock on the stove. “Thirty minutes.”
“That’s a LONG time,” Addie whines. “ Why didn’t she tell me she was leaving?”
“You were asleep. She didn’t want to wake you up.”
“Mummy never leaves without saying bye to us. And she never leaves in the morning. She’s always here when we get up. Why would she go somewhere? She never does that. That’s not a normal mummy thing to do.”
“Well, sometimes things come up,” he attempts to reason. “That we can’t help. Don’t take it personal, okay? That she didn’t say bye to you. She probably thought you wouldn’t be up until later; when she was already home.”
“Can I call her?”
He nods in the direction of the phone charging on the nearby counter. “You could, but she didn’t take her phone.”
“Now I’m really worried,” Addie promptly bursts into tears. “Mummy never forgets her phone!”
“Ads, it’s okay,” TJ assures her as he joins them in the kitchen. Scooping his little sister off the chair and into a tight, comforting embrace, her tiny arms and legs immediately circling his neck and waist. And he presses a kiss to her forehead and strokes her hair; body proceeding to sway side to side in an attempt to soothe her. “Mum’s forgotten her phone lots of times. She was always leaving it behind when I was your age.”
Addie sniffles noisily. “She was?”
“Yup. You know how many times she had to run back into the house? Or we had to drive all the way back to get it? Tons! You just weren’t around then. By the time you came around, she’d gotten better at remembering it, that’s all.”
“She’s coming back, right?”
“Of course she’s coming back. She wouldn’t leave us. Or dad. Why would she do that?”
Addie shrugs.
“She loves all of us. Way too much to ever leave us behind. She probably just had to go and help Ovi and Riya. It gets crazy; planning a wedding. Tons of stuff to do. They probably just needed some help.”
“You think that’s it?”
“I’m pretty sure that’s it. I mean, they wouldn’t ask dad. He wouldn’t be much help.”
Tyler grabs one of the dish towels from off the handle of the stove and playfully swats his older son upside the back of the head with it. “What’s that supposed to mean?”
“Mum would be better at that kind of thing. Weddings and parties and all that. That’s not exactly your field of experience, dad. You’re more the get the spiders and the snakes out of the house and fix and build stuff kind of guy. And a big time ass kicker.”
“Daddy DOES kick a lot of ass,” Addie agrees.
“Plus, he’s a WAY better cook,” TJ adds. “So isn’t it kind of good that he’s the one that’s here? That he’s the one who gets to make breakfast?”
She nods. “Daddy makes the best breakfasts EVER.”
“Exactly. Mum and dad know their strengths. People who work well together do. And they’ve been together a long time; ever since Millie was in mum’s tummy. That’s a long time to be in love with each other. If dad says mum will be back, then she will. He knows her better than anyone.”
A lump of emotion settles in Tyler’s throat and threatens to choke him. It’s a mixture of things that have him feeling weak and vulnerable. The level of tenderness and compassion that inhabits his oldest son; the patience and the understanding and the unbridled love he shows to the smallest of his siblings. Addie has especially taken to him; TJ her ‘person’ if daddy isn’t around to turn to for help or comfort. He’s both humbled by his son’s genuine praise and blatant adoration, but left feeling unworthy of it; knowing full well he’s broken many promises and disappointed his children in the past and often failed in his role as not just a parent, but a husband. And the fear continues to nag at him; the worry that either his wife will return and announce she simply can’t take it -HIM- anymore, or that a threat is just waiting in the wings to grab her.
“I wish she didn’t have to go,” Addie says, as her older brother’s fingers brush away her tears. “Mummy always spends time in the morning with me. When I first get up. Ever since I was tiny.”
“Ads,” TJ pushes his fingers through her hair; moving it off her forehead and making her giggle when he scrunches his face and brushes the end of his against hers. “You’re STILL tiny.”
“I meant tiny, tiny. When I was still in diapers. Mummy would get up with me and she’d make herself a tea and she’d get me a drink in my sippy and then she’d cuddle me on the couch and we’d watch tv together. It’s our ‘thing’. I don’t want to miss our ‘thing’.”
“I’m sure mum didn’t want to miss your ‘thing’ either,” her brother assures her. “It had to be really important for her to miss it. Mum would never just skip out on your ‘thing’ for no reason. Does mum EVER do that? Take off and not do something important with us?”
Addie shakes her head. “Never.”
“So it had to be something really big and really important for her not to be here. Don’t worry; mum will be back. Soon.”
“How soon?”
“I dunno. Probably in time for breakfast. She has to eat, right? If it would make you feel any better, I’ll do your ‘thing’ with you.”
“It’s mummy and my thing, though.”
“I’m sure mum would be cool with me taking her place just once. It’s just for today; tomorrow she’ll do your ‘thing’ with you again. You really think she’d mind?”
“I don’t think so. But just this once.”
“Just this once,” TJ promises. “I’ll even drink tea. So it’s like being with mum.”
You HATE tea. Like daddy.”
“Yeah, I do. I think it tastes like ass. But I’ll drink it anyway. If it makes the experience better for you.”
“You’d do that? For me?”
“Of course I would. You’re my Ads. It’s what older brothers do for their baby sisters. Especially one as cute and awesome as you.”
Addie’s eyes widen. “You think I’m cute? And awesome?”
“Your mum’s Mini Me, right? And mum’s cute and awesome. That means you are too.”
“I love you Tyler.” She presses a noisy kiss to each of his cheeks, then his lips. “You’re the best big brother. Ever.”
“Well, don’t tell any of the others…” he lowers his voice to a whisper. “...but you’re my favourite little sibling.”
“I knew it!” Addie whispers in return.
“I’ll make my tea and get your chocolate milk,” he says, and places her on the ground. “You go wait in the living room. Tell Declan I said to put what YOU want to watch on.”
“Okay!” She hurries from the room, then stops at the breakfast bar that serves as the divider between kitchen and dining room. “Don’t forget! It goes in my favourite cup!”
“I know. The purple one with your name on it in pink glitter. This isn’t my first rodeo, Ads. I got you.”
“You’re awesome, too!” she declares, and then hurries for the living room.
“You’re good with her,” Tyler praises his oldest son. “VERY good with her.”
“She really IS my favourite,” he admits. “I mean, don’t get me wrong; I love ALL of them. Even Millie. Don’t tell her I said that.”
“Your secret is safe with me.”
“But there’s something different about Addie. The way I feel about her. Like, I feel like I HAVE to take care of her. Protect her. Maybe because she’s so small? And so cute? Maybe because she IS so much like mum? I don’t know. I just know how I feel. Does that make sense?”
“Total. And let’s face it; mum’s your favourite too.”
“Well, yeah. She’s my mum. She carried me inside of her. At the same time as Tanny. I love you, dad. You know I do. But that’s my mum.”
“You know, you’ve got more of her inside you than anyone realizes. And believe me, that’s a good thing. A damn good thing.”
“She’s my ‘person’. Like you are with Tanny. We all have our ‘person’. Mum is your person, right?”
“She is. Always has been.”
“Just like you’re hers. That’s what's good about you and mum. You’re not just married. You actually LIKE each other. You’re friends. BEST friends.”
“She’s definitely my favourite human. My favourite BIG human.”
“Dad…” TJ’s voice and face become sombre, and he lays a hand on Tyler’s shoulder. “I don’t know what happened or what’s really going on. Or why mum really did leave. But I know she loves you. No matter what.”
The lump in his throat returns; tears well in his eyes.
“She’d never take off,” his son assures him. “There’s too much between you guys. I’m only ten and even I know that. And you what ELSE I know? I know that you guys are stronger together than you are apart.”
“Yeah…” Tyler swallows noisily. “...we are.”
“It’s going to be okay,” TJ promises. “YOU’LL be okay. You always are.”
****
She finds a cafe four blocks from home. A tiny hole in the wall place that she’s only stepped foot in once before; heavily scuffed and creaky hardwood floors, a half dozen mismatched tables with formica tops and metal chairs with weathered, red vinyl cushions, their full menu printed on chalkboards mounted on the wall behind the lone register. And she returns the waitress’ welcoming smile with a forced one of her own before making her way to the counter that stretches across the front window; sliding onto one of the bar stools and placing her knapsack style purse in her lap. While she’d been hopeful that the fresh air and warmer temperatures would help both clear her head and improve her mood, her nerves remain on edge; her shoulders painfully tense and the lingering uneasiness in her stomach no match for the deep and profound ache that has settled in her chest. It’s a hard thing to hear; the person you love more than anything in the world...who you’ve devoted your entire existence too...confess to thoughts of suicide. They’ve been there before; his brain attempting to convince him that her life would be better off without him in it. That he’d no longer be a burden on her. A broken and troubled man locked in a constant battle with his own mind; waging war against not only mental illness, but the demons of addiction and alcoholism.
Years ago he’d hit rock bottom. Weeks spent contemplating taking his own life; ending with a hand written suicide note on her pillow and a loaded gun in his hand. She’d returned to the house unexpectedly; forgetting her wallet in the bedroom and having to delay the start of a shoe shopping trip with the kids in order to retrieve it. There’d only been four of them then; Millie and the twin boys in daycare and Declan just shy of six months old, and she’d left them in the car with Ovi while she’d run inside. The house had been eerily still and quiet, yet she hadn’t given it much thought; assuming Tyler was either in the gym with his headphones on and music cranked or out working somewhere on the property. Her blood had run cold when she’d heard it; the faint, yet telltale sound of a magazine being snapped into a handgun and the safety being switched off. And she’d found him sitting on the edge of the tub in the bathroom, revolver resting on his thigh and his finger hovering near the trigger. To this day she’d never seen him look the way he had in the moment he’d regarded her standing in the doorway; face stern and determined and his eyes impossibly dark and empty.
“You need to leave.”
Four simple words. His voice devoid of all emotion.
She had refused to turn around and walk away. It hadn’t even been an option; no matter how nervous or terrified she’d been. She had known that he wouldn’t pull the trigger with her in the room; even at that depth of darkness and despair, he wouldn’t want her to see THAT. Knowing it would haunt her for the rest of her life; her entire world altered and forever haunted by blood and gore and instant death. And he wouldn’t have taken them both out; brain still allowing him to realize that he couldn’t rob his children of BOTH their parents. Instead of leaving, she’d sent Ovi a text message saying to grab the extra keys to her car from their hidden place in the kitchen and take the kids into town; ordering him to keep them out until she called him and let him know it was okay to return. Then she’d simply closed and locked the bathroom door and sat down on the front and leaned back against it. She wasn’t leaving him like that; determined not to let his mind convince him that he needed a permanent solution to a temporary problem.
Even to this day, she’s unsure of how long they’d sat there. Time slowly ticking away as they did nothing more than stare at one another from across the room. Tyler becoming agitated by her presence; upset that she’d interrupted him and was hampering from ‘getting on with it’. It had quickly turned to anger. Pissed off that she wouldn’t leave and that she wouldn’t listen to him when he said it was for the best; that his absence would make her and the kids’ lives so much easier. And she’d sat there silently as he ranted and raved at her; emotionless as he called her every hurtful name in the book in hopes of finally breaking her and giving her no choice but to abandon him. She hadn’t taken any of it to heart; knowing he was in the middle of what could possibly be a psychotic break and that getting all the pent up rage and fear and stress off his shoulders was the best thing for him. And when he turned the mean and degrading words towards himself, she’d slowly began moving towards him. Anything too sudden and too quick could have been bad news; aggravating him and angering him and sending him into a full out rage. Eventually she’d ended up sitting at his feet with her palms on his knees; eyes locked on his and her voice calm and steady when she informed him that she wasn’t going anywhere. He wasn’t the monster his brain was making him out to be. He was a big man with an even bigger heart, surrounded by people who loved him and wanted nothing more than for him to be alive and well. Reminding him to just breathe; to ignore that voice in his head and just listen to hers instead.
When he’d finally broken down emotionally, she’d been able to gingerly pluck the gun from his hand and remove the clip; tossing both where he couldn’t reach them and then kneeling between his splayed thighs. His face cradled in her palms as he openly wept; her heart breaking as she listened to all the hateful words -directed at himself- that spilled from his mouth. Pressing a series of light kisses across his forehead and down the bridge of his nose and over his lips; fingers combing through his hair as he begged and pleaded with her to help him. He was lost, confused, and terrified; wanting to die yet not wanting to leave her and his kids. In the end, he’d agreed to let her take him to the hospital, and she’d made quite possibly the hardest decision of her life: admitting him to the psychiatric ward and agreeing to have no contact -whether in person or by phone- for two weeks. It would give him the time to rest; body AND brain desperately needing a reprieve. And doctors would get the chance to analyze and investigate; come up with a diagnosis and a game plan and get him the help that he needed.
She hasn’t thought of it in years. That moment in Colorado when she’d come so close to losing him. It hasn’t been that bad since; able to get past the monsters and the demons that continue to haunt him, fighting through depressive episodes and always coming out the other side. And while she’d suspected that his brain has been playing horrible tricks on him and trying desperately to alter his version of himself, it had still hurt like hell to hear it; his confession knocking the air out of her lungs and nearly ripping her heart from her chest. She’s always been able to help him; yanking him away from many an edge, instilling confidence in him after Nathan had cruelly snatched it away, successfully convincing him that he needed medication or therapy. Now she feels helpless; no tricks or plans up her sleeve and simply no energy left to come up with any. It’s a lonely existence at time. A spouse with significant mental health problems and lingering physical issues caused by a list of traumas too vast to name.
For five years they’ve successfully fought back and kept the worst at bay. Learning and adapting healthy coping mechanisms, attending counselling -both separately and together- and making friendships with others in similar situations. This is the worst she’s seen him in a long time, and she knows how difficult it is for him to even get out of bed in the morning; fully aware that he’s at the point of putting one foot in front of the other simply because his family needs him to. She wants to believe that things will start to improve once they’re home. He’ll be back in his ‘happy place’; the warmth of the sun and the feel of the sand between his toes and the smell of the ocean. It’s comforting to him; their home at the end of a very secluded gravel road, the acres of property, and the water right in their backyard. The surroundings ground him. The sound of both the waves and the various wildlife that wanders their property, the wind that blows through the dense forest and tousles the leaves on the trees. He’s easily soothed there; usually needing nothing more than a hike through the woods or a surfboard and a couple hours with the waves to bring an end to even the roughest of ‘down moments’. But the fear is immense. The worry that not even being back in Australia will be enough this time. That he’s spiralling too hard and too fast and not even the water and the sun can make even the slightest bit of difference.
Tears threaten once more. Ones of heartache and fear and desperation. Wanting to reach out to someone...anyone...yet needing space at the same time. She’d avoid her familiar haunts out of fear of running into someone she knows. Wanting to avoid Jacobi with his endless and hopeful flirting and Frank with his dry humour and his well meaning concern and curiosity. Even Desi; the brother she would have loved to have growing up and who she absolutely adores. So compassionate and understanding; always lending a sympathetic ear or a shoulder to cry on. Coming in contact with him would have only made things worse; fearing she’d not only lose it emotionally, but find herself unable to put the pieces back together and be of use to her family. Instead she’d stayed away; wandering in the opposite and unfamiliar direction and hoping and praying her mind would sort itself out before coming in contact with humanity.
It hadn’t worked. And now emotion threatens to choke her and tears prick her eyes; thankful for the oversized shades she’d slipped onto her face before leaving the house.
*****
“You okay, hun?” The waitress cautiously approaches; a glass of ice water in hand and concern on her face. Easily recognizing the tense shoulders and the repetitive, nervous bounce to her legs.
“I’m alright." Her voice quivers with emotion, and she noisily clears her throat. “Just a rough morning.”
“Wouldn’t be the first time I heard that. A lot of people come in here when they’re feeling down. We're nice quiet, little place to escape to, I guess.”
Nodding in agreement, she reaches for the water offered to her; chewing anxiously on her bottom lip and quickly pulling her hands back when she notices how bad they’re trembling.
The waitress gives a compassionate, understanding smile and sets the drink down on the counter in front of her. “Do you know what you want, love? There’s no hurry and I’m by no means rushing you. You can take as long you need to decide or sit here all day if you want. Or until we close at three, at least.”
She casts a glance over her shoulder; hurriedly choosing a strawberry and apple flavoured and a plain croissant and then turning her attention to the bag in her lap. The kids had given it to her for her last birthday; picking it out themselves on a family trip they’d made weeks earlier to Cairns. Black leather with rose gold stitching around every edge and throughout the straps; a large rose gold heart -engraved with all of their initials- dangling from the zipper on the side pocket. She rummages through it, top teeth pressing into her bottom lip and her brow furrowing as her search comes up empty. Cell phone nowhere to be found amidst the chaos of old receipts, handfuls of take out napkins from places in New York City and back home, various small toys and trinkets the three littlest had gotten her to ‘hang onto’ and promptly forgotten about. Panic and frustration quickly sets in and has her dumping all of the purse’s contents onto the counter in front of her; trying desperately to hold back not only a flood of tears, but the string of profanities that threaten to burst from her mouth.
She knows the kind of drama it will cause at home. Not just her uncharacteristic early morning absence, but being totally ‘incommunicado’. Tanner and Addie will take it the hardest; the former not appreciative of even the smallest of changes or hitches to his normal routine and the latter used to their long standing ‘morning dates’ of tea and chocolate milk while cuddling on the couch and watching cartoons. And Tyler’s anxiety will be through the roof. Needing the reassurance that she’s fine; safe and sound and not in any danger and not harbouring any plans to abandon her family. The latter is pure paranoia; the long standing belief that she’ll one day see him as a burden and finally decide to cut ties. Logically he knows that she’d never walk away from him or their children; devoted to to their babies and loving him more than she ever thought she could love someone. But when his brain is waging war against him, he isn’t able to think rationally. Those internal voices screaming at him. Insisting that he’s simply too much work and completely undeserving of how she feels about him and the life they have together. And it’s him that she worries about the most; wanting to prevent his mental state from sinking even further and fracturing completely.
“Looks like you really are having a hell of a day,” the waitress comments as she returns with Esme’s order; placing the steaming mug of tea and the croissant on the countertop.
“I forgot my phone,” she frets. “Some days I swear I would lose my head if it wasn’t attached. And I need to call home. I REALLY need to call home.”
“I’ve got you, sweets.” The younger woman shoots her a wink and pats her shoulder comfortingly and then wanders off, quickly returning with a cordless phone and offering it with a sympathetic smile. “Someone there must be worried about you, huh?”
“A handful of someones. A husband. Seven kids.”
The other woman releases a long, low whistle. “YOU have seven kids? You’re not yanking my chain?”
“I’m not. I really do have seven of them.”
“All yours?”
Esme nods.
“Seven kids came from that tiny little body?”
“Yup,” she confirms. “Including two sets of twins.”
“Get out of here!”
“My second pregnancy was twins and my last one was twins. First time was two boys, then I had a girl and a boy.”
“I didn’t think that was possible. Having more than one set. How old are all these kids?”
“Almost twelve, ten and a half, eight, soon to be six, and four and a bit.” She finds talking about them calming; hands no longer trembling as she shoves objects back into her purse.
“That’s seven kids under twelve. And seeing as your littlest are four, you spent the better part of seven years pregnant. Intentionally?”
“A couple WERE surprises,” Esme admits. “Happy surprises. Very happy.”
“And all the same daddy?”
“All the same daddy. I know; it seems pretty far out there. Having that many. Especially in this day and age.”
“Not just THAT. But having that many and looking like you do? You must have found some fountain of youth or somethin’. I only have three and I feel like I’ve been through the damn ringer most days. You’re a lot stronger than I am, that’s for sure. And you must have the patience of a saint.”
“Oh trust me, I don’t. I have an extraordinary LACK of patience. My husband on the other hand? He’s a legend. He’s always Mister Calm, Cool, and Collected. Nothing much fazes him when it comes to being a dad.”
“Well what’s that saying? Opposites attract? You probably balance each other out.”
“We do. Somehow. He can be so serious and so quiet and introverted and I’m on the other end of the spectrum. He always jokes that he likes going places with me because all he has to do is stand there and smile and let me do all the talking.”
“Been married long?”
“Twelve years in October. Best twelve years of my life. Hands down. He’s a good guy." She smiles, and proceeds to repeatedly dunk the tea bag in and out of the steaming water. “A REALLY good guy.”
“Then you better give that really good guy of yours a call. Let him know you’re alright. Take your time. And enjoy your goodies.”
She gives a smile in appreciation. Waiting for the waitress to tend to other customers before dialling the house number; ten rings passing by before the call is sent to voicemail and she disconnects. She tries his cell next; frowning when that attempt also gets sent to messaging.
“Hey…” she begins, nervously drumming the nails on her free hand against the porcelain of her mug. “...you not answering your phone can only mean one of three things; you’re busy with the kids, you still refuse to answer numbers you don’t recognize, or you’re really pissed off and ignoring me. I hope it’s not the latter. I didn’t leave to punish you. Or make you feel bad. Or guilty. I just needed some time. Some fresh air. A chance to clear my head. It just really got to me; you admitting what you did. But we’ll deal with it and we’ll get past it just like we’ve gotten past so many other things. I love you, Tyler. No matter what your brain is telling you right now. And I’m safe and I’ll be home soon.”
Disconnecting the call, she sets the phone down on the countertop and slips her hands under her sunglasses; thumb and forefinger tightly pinching the bridge of her nose. Sighing heavily, she presses the heels of her palms into her eyes. Desperate to control the hot, bitter tears that threaten to fall.
*****
She’s halfway through her second mug of tea when movement outside the window catches her attention; a blur of a fur trimmed hood on a winter coat, long blonde hair that shimmers in the sunlight, and the glint off the gold chain strap of a ridiculously expensive Gucci bag. Next year’s style; released to only a select few that could afford to pay the exuberant price and enjoyed outwardly gaudy accessories. Natalie had been so proud of that purse; making a conscious and annoying effort to draw as much attention to it as possible when she stopped by that morning. Launching into an unneeded and entirely unwanted explanation of being on the ‘short list’ at many high end boutiques courtesy of friends in high places. So obnoxious. That 'holier than thou' persona and her valiant -and completely unsuccessful- attempts to cause problems in someone else’s relationship. Delusional and determined and so very out of line.
The waitress greets the other woman by name when she first steps into the cafe, and when Natalie turns to head towards a seat the inevitable happens; eyes locking with Esme’s and her face blanching and her smile quickly disappearing.
The anger is immediate. The surprise visits and the other woman’s attempts to degrade and humiliate her while standing on her front porch, the spying out the living room window and then following her and Tyler on their date, the supposedly coincidental moments Natalie had managed to bump into him; whether alone or with the kids. They’d long ago stopped keeping secrets from another and he’d been quick to tell her about all the run ins with their new neighbour. Neither believed the incidents were random; Natalie not exactly hiding her interest in him, nor her attempts at causing problems between them. And now knowing personal information that neither of them are ever forthcoming about; placing the blame on an undeserving TJ when confronted.
It’s the latter that infuriates her the most. One of her children being dragged into some thirsty and pathetic woman’s drama. And when Natalie quickly turns on her heel and rushes out the door, Esme abandons her belongings and hurries after her, managing to catch up when the neighbour has to stop and wait to cross the street.
“I don’t fucking think so,” she snarls, and steps in front of other woman, preventing her from stepping off the curb. “You’re not going to run away. Not from me. You have pissed in the wrong woman’s front yard way too many times.”
“I don’t know what you’re talking about. I don’t…”
“You know damn well what I’m talking about. Is this some sick little game of yours? Following Tyler and I around? Trying to act all surprised and pass it off as a coincidence when we run into you?”
“It IS a coincidence. All of it is. Just because you’re paranoid…”
“I’m not some stupid and naive little housewife, Natalie. I have been around sneakier and way craftier and sketchier people than you and believe me, I was never shy about calling any of them out on their bullshit. There’s no way they’re all coincidences. The night Tyler and I went on our date? We saw you watching us out your living room window. You didn’t exactly try and hide it. And then you just randomly show up at the same restaurant? Who was the guy? Just some stranger off the street? Did you really think we’d care? That you’re with someone? I don’t give a shit who or what you do. And I know damn well Tyler doesn’t either.”
“He’s certainly been pretty attentive. To me. For a guy that doesn’t care.”
Esme scoffs. “When he said you were delusional, I don’t think he realized just how far off the reservation you actually are.”
“He said that? He called me delusional? Why would he say that? Why…?”
“Because you ARE! You are off the charts delusional! And maybe you’re more than that. Maybe you’re legit insane. Because you are something else. You are conceited and annoying and plain fucking crazy. Who the hell do you think you are? Showing up at my house and talking to me like you do. Following my husband around. Do you actually wait for him to leave? Do you stand at your window and watch him go? Do you just wait around to see him and jump at the opportunity to chase after him? Because that’s not all creepy or stalkerish. What the hell is your issue?”
“We had a connection. At the park. At the restaurant that day. Yesterday at the American Girl store…”
“Oh my god,” Esme laughs. ”You ARE nuts. Certifiably. There was no connection. At least not on his end. He thinks you’re just as insane and unhinged as I do. Tyler is NOT interested in you. In anyone. I don’t know what planet you’re living on where you think you can just walk into someone else’s life and try and steal their husband away, but…”
“You can’t steal what wants to be taken.”
“I can guarantee that he doesn’t want to go anywhere. That my husband is happy. Satisfied. Extremely. And he’s not going to throw that or his relationship with his children away for someone like you. He doesn’t want anything to do with you. He has made that perfectly clear time and time again. He has told you to stay away from him. More than once. I don’t know what part of ‘fuck off’ you don’t understand…”
“He’s just putting on a good front. For you. Because he DOES love you. He’s just not IN LOVE with you. Not anymore. And it happens. It’s been over ten years. People fall out of love all the time. I mean, he obviously loves you as the mother of his children. You’ll always have that to bond you together.”
“There is something majorly wrong with you. You need help. PROFESSIONAL help. My husband DOES love me. In every way you can possibly love a person. I have never doubted that. Not a single moment in the past twelve and a half years. We have a good thing. A damn good thing. And we are not letting you screw that up. You’re obnoxious and you’re insane and I want you to stay away from him. Stay away from Tyler. He’s told you and now I’ve told you. And if I have to tell you again…”
Natalie smirks. “What would YOU do about it?”
“Why don’t you try me and find out? I have dealt with bigger and better and badder than you. And I’m still here. I am telling you right now; stay away from my husband and stay away from my kids. Don’t walk past our house. Go totally out of your way if you have to. But if I find out that you even go past a place where he is…”
“And you call me nuts? Listen to you. Willing to fight for some man.”
“He’s not just some man. He is my husband. The father of my children. And I will fight to the death for him. I will protect him no matter what. Against anything and anyone. Stay away from him, Natalie. He’s not yours to have. He’s not going anywhere. So go and find some cuckold house wife that will let you tie her to chair and force her to watch while you fuck her husband. You’ve got the wrong woman to mess with. I’m not afraid of you. I’m not afraid of ANYONE. Stay away from him.”
“Look at you. You say I’m pathetic? Look how you’re acting. Listen to things you’re saying. You’re possessive and controlling and…”
“Maybe if you had a husband that loved you and you loved in return, you’d understand why I’m being this way. But it sounds like you can’t keep ‘em. What happened to the District Attorney? In Chicago?”
Natalie blinks. “What?”
“Did you forget that the internet exists? That once something is on there, it lives forever? Couldn’t keep him happy, couldn’t keep a string of extremely wealthy -AND very much older- men happy before him. And then there’s the ex husband. Doesn’t he own a sports team? Hockey, right? In Columbus?”
“How do…?”
“What? You think you’re the only one that has ‘people?’” Esme makes air quotes around the last word. “You have no idea the circles I’ve travelled in. Or the people I’m still in contact with. Or the friends I have. I have ways of finding things out. Ways you’ve probably never dreamed of. I don’t know what you’re up to, but you’re not very good at it. You’ve made it more than obvious that you’re interested in Tyler; physically, sexually, personally. You haven’t even tried to hide it. So you’re either really new at all this, or just really, REALLY bad at it.”
“I honestly have no idea what you’re talking about. You’re not making any sense. Now if you’ll just…” Natalie attempts to step past her, but Esme stays firm; placing herself in the much taller women’s path and blocking her escape.
“You didn’t think I’d look into you? Or have someone look into you? We can dig deeper, you know. Much, much, MUCH deeper. And I don’t think you want that. So how about you cut the shit and stop your crap and stay away from my husband. From my FAMILY. Because you have no idea who you are messing with. What kind of damage we can do. So if you value your life the way it is, you’d keep your distance. Because if you don’t? We will turn over every stone and ruin you.”
“Is that a threat?”
“That’s a promise. Like I said; we’ve dealt with bigger and better. Scarier. And dangerous. You’re nothing. You’re a small, harmless fish in a big pond. And it would be easy to ruin you. Is that really a chance you want to take?”
“You have no idea what you’re talking about. Or who you’re talking about. I admit; I AM interested in Tyler. Very interested. And I’m not lying to you when I say there was a connection. One that he’s too afraid to act on.”
“You’re still on that, huh? Still insisting there's something there? There isn’t. And you damn well know it. Tyler would never, EVER, form a connection with anyone else. Especially with the likes of you. So knock it off, Natalie. It is all one sided and I’m sorry that hurts you to hear this, but my husband can’t stand you. He thinks you’re nuts. And he wants you to stay away from him. How many times does he need to tell you? How much plainer does he need to be?”
“He doesn’t want to hurt you. I’m sure at one time he loved you with everything he is and everything he has but…”
“He DOES love me. With everything he is and everything he has. And he loves his life with me. With his children. There is nothing between the two of you. There never will be. So unless you want things to get very unpleasant for you, you’ll back off.”
“Is that why he came onto me? At the American Girl store yesterday? Is that why he propositioned me? Suggested we abandon the kids for a bit and find a storage closet?”
Esme chuckles. “Right. Because THAT would totally happen. First of all, my husband is NOT a cheater. He is -and always has been- one hundred percent faithful and loyal. No other woman in the world exists to him. Not you, not anyone else. Just me. That’s it.”
“Is that what he tells you? Stroke the old ego? Let you think everything is okay and he’s not straying?”
“That IS what he tells me. I know Tyler better than he knows himself. And when he says things like that? He is one hundred percent genuine. I have spent twelve and a half years with that man. Sharing a bed with him. A life. I know him in ways no one else does. So don’t even try and pretend you have any clue who he is or what he thinks or how he feels.”
“And you call me the delusional one? That’s rich.”
“Second of all, even if he WAS a cheater, he would never do something like that; suggest something that crude and disgusting. Not with two of his children and his granddaughter right there. I don’t know what kind of married men you’re used to opening your legs for, but my husband isn’t like them. He is a decent, good man. Who loves his family. Who’d do anything to protect them. Who would stop at nothing to keep us all together. So you can try this bullshit until you’re blue in the face. You could talk all day about it; tell lies about him and try and convince me that he’s a horrible person and that he wants to leave me for you. I won’t believe you. Because I KNOW him. And I also know you’re a lying piece of shit.”
“Well you just know everything, don’t you,” Natalie sneers. “Little Miss Perfect. With her great marriage and her horde of children and all her money and big, beautiful house and amazing life in Australia. You’ve just got all the answers.”
“I am far from perfect. I’m the first one to admit I’m anything but. But I recognize a train wreck when I see it. And you are the biggest I’ve seen by far. Stay away from my husband and stay away from my kids. If you ever even think about dragging one of my children into your crap again, I will come to your house and pull you out by your hair and beat your ass in the middle of the street.”
“I’d like to see you try.”
“Mess with my husband or my kids again, and I won’t try. I will do it. Don’t underestimate me. Tougher people than you have made that mistake. Walk away, Natalie. If you know what’s good for you. I won’t tell you again.”
“You have no idea who you’re threatening, little girl. No idea at all.”
“God, you’re a real piece of work, you know that? And I’ve worked with some real winners, let me tell you. Just stay away. From Tyler, from my kids, from me. Or the next time you’re told? It won’t be this civil.”
Gathering the sides of her hoodie around her body, she crosses her arms over her chest to hold the fabric in place; eyes on the sidewalk as she begins the short trek back to the cafe. Exhaustion suddenly taking hold; a level of weariness that muddles your brain and seems to settle deep within your bones. She wants nothing more than to go home; kiss and cuddle her children and hear their voices and their giggles. And to be engulfed by those big, strong arms; so powerful and capable of so much damage, yet impossibly soothing and gentle at the same time. Her own arms curling around his waist; eyes closing as he tucks her protectively and lovingly into that solid, muscular chest. No matter how trying and stressful and scary a situation, everything in the world seems right when she’s with him; the warmth of his body and the familiar smell that clings to his clothing and the sound and the feel of his heart beating against her. It’s as if time stands still; everything and everyone else in the universe ceasing to exist. It’s always been like that; feeling safe and secure and protected whenever she’s in his presence. And she reminds herself that they’ve gotten through worse; the demons of his past, his ongoing battles with alcoholism and drug abuse, a six month separation, the aftermath of both trips to Dhaka. And each time they’ve only grown stronger; that intense and profound bond pulling them through even the darkest and scariest of situations. This too shall pass. It will take days. Weeks. Maybe even months. But It WILL pass. And as long as they remain a united front, nothing -or no one- could possibly destroy them.
She reaches for the handle on the cafe’s door just as another customer emerges. Slightly startled when the glass and metal swings towards her; giving a small yelp and jumping back and flattening herself against the brick behind her.
“Sorry about that, miss.” The patron steps through; placing a hand on the door and keeping it open for her. “Didn’t mind to startle you.”
“It’s okay. I was in my own little world and…”
Her voice trails off when she looks up at him, smile quickly fading. Heart hammering wildly in her chest; entire body going rigid and sweat gathering along her hairline as her stomach churns agonizingly. It’s been years since she's seen him; tall and barrel chested and broad shouldered light brown hair now almost completely gray, sparkling hazel eyes. Logically she knows it can’t really BE him. After all, Nathan had ended his life years ago in New Zealand; effectively wiping out any threat he could have posed, yet doing very little for the torment and the heartache that he’d caused her. The years of physical, emotional, and sexual abuse that very nearly broke her.
It isn’t possible. The dead simply don’t come back.
“Are you alright?” He asks, and lifts a take out cup of coffee to his lips. “You look like you’ve seen a ghost.”
“I’m just...I’m…” she struggles to gather her composure. There’s a distinct twang to the man’s voice. Brooklyn, if she can recall from her time spent in New York City. Her mind swims; the shock of seeing a deceased man's face and the lingering terror that his hands, words, and body had long instilled in her. “I’m fine,” she manages a smile. “You just look like someone I used to know. That I was pretty close to. Took my breath away.”
“Good memories, I hope.”
“There’s some,” Esme admits. “But I’d be lying if I said there weren't more bad ones.”
“Well I hate hearing that. Especially coming from a pretty little thing like you. Didn’t mean to startle you.”
“It’s okay. I was in my own little world. It's just been quite the morning. To say the least. And seeing you…”
“What’s that that people say? About everyone having a twin out there somewhere? That’s probably the case. I’m probably that guy’s twin. Sorry if my face brings back some bad things for you.”
“It’s alright. I think I need to just get home. Back to my family. I’ll feel better then.”
“I hope so. You take care now. Sorry to have spooked you. You have a good day. With that family of yours.”
“I will,” she manages another smile; not as nervous and shaky. “Thank you.”
She remains in the open doorway, watching as he saunters down the street. No sign of a hitch to his left leg or a swing to the right hip; injuries Mark had sustained when a tank in a convoy he’d been travelling in hit a roadside bomb; the blast powerful enough to eject him from the light armoured vehicle travelling meters behind. Between the normal gait and the Brooklyn accent…
“Get it together.” she orders a loud, and briefly closes her eyes. “He’s dead. Long dead. There’s no way it’s him. It CAN’T be him.”
Taking in a deep breath, she releases it slowly and opens her eyes, frantically searching for the man that had stood before her just a few short moments ago. The sidewalk is empty for blocks. No sign of her dead ex’s ‘twin’; no one rounding a corner, no car pulling away from any of the curbs. Her heart begins to settle; the pounding in her chest and her ears relenting and the terror that once held her firmly in its grasp finally letting go.
#Tyler Rake#Tyler Rake fan fiction#Extraction fan ficiton#Extraction#Chris Hemsworth#Chris Hemsworth Extraction#Chris Hemsworth Tyler Rake#Tyler Rake x OFC#Extraction fan fic
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