#cancer fiction

[houseswife]

wilson saying “I need to do this. for you.” is fucking insane actually. in the same episode where house is deciding whether or not he should commit suicide as a result of wilson’s dying. They are each other’s lines between life and death. humans have a biological instinct to preserve their survival at all costs; house has an addiction that governs his life. but they were willing to forgo all of it for one another, because they couldn’t fathom it being any other way. IM SICK

[ohtobeleah]

Was It Over? // Jake Seresin

-> Chapter One: [The Diagnosis]

Summary: The last thing you ever expected was to be diagnosed with breast cancer. To make matters worse? You’d been separated from the love of your life for just shy of a year. How do you tell the love of your life you might be dying? It’s simple really— You don’t.

Warnings: Mentions of Cancer Diagnosis. Jake Seresin x F!reader. Separation. Marriage issues. Mentions of death.

Word Count: 2.1k

Author Note: I've put so much love, passion and time into this series. I'd love to hear all your theories and concepts as each chapter is released.

Series Masterlist | Main Masterlist

December 31st 

Jake Seresin tried his best to hide the wet tears that fell down his cheeks as he sat with his kids on the lounge of the home that he had tried his best to keep as tidy as he could. There was a lot of uncertainty, a lot of frustration, a lot of fear and unbelievable sadness that surrounded Jake and your three small children. The unknown was truly tragic, terrifying and treacherous, but Jake wasn’t about to let his kids see the way he so desperately wanted to cry. He didn't want his kids to know how truly broken he was. 

“What did mum get you for Christmas daddy?” Little Lenny asked cautiously, knowing the emotions were still raw for them all. He was just six years old but Lennox Seresin knew his life had changed forever. That something had been ripped from his heart never to be returned. 

Jake held the small present in the palm of his hand, the present he had yet to open. The present he wasn’t sure he wanted to. It felt like something he’d held before, the weight felt all too familiar. It haunted him the more he carried it around, held it in the palm of his hand and contemplated the inevitable. 

“I dunno buddy, you reckon I should open it?” Jake asked as he kissed his son's head. “S’not Christmas anymore.” The Naval Aviator had recently shaved his head, it had been the closest to a number one he’d ever had. It was in solidarity, union. A decision he made in the blink of an eye but one he did not regent or ever would. 

“We haven’t taken the tree down yet.” Lucy added her two cents into the conversation as she laid her head on her father’s thigh. “Mum would be upset if you didn’t open it dad.” Jake knew that much was true, you probably would be pretty bent out of shape if he never opened it. 

“Alright, I better open it then huh?” Jake shook the small perfectly wrapped box he could hold in the palm of his hand. He heard what sounded like a rock rattle inside. His heart nearly exploded inside his chest. 

Fuck….Jake knew what it was and he really didn’t want to open it. 

But before we get to that we need to go back a little. So settle in, grab your tissues and emotional support water bottle and hold on for dear life. Because this Christmas isn’t your average festive Christmas fic: No—this one’s something much more heartbreaking. 

***~***~***~***~***~***~

November: 2nd 

“I need you to take the kids for Christmas—“ It was the first thing Jake heard come through the phone as he held it up to his ear. It had been a few days since he’d last heard from you, not that you owed him daily check ins or regular updates, you owed him nothing, after all the two of you had been separated for just shy of a year now. January had been the start of his new beginning, Lieutenants Jake Hangman, soon to be divorced, couldn’t hack it as a husband, Seresin. The title was pretty long winded and riddled with self pity, but Jake wouldn’t ever let himself forget how much he’d let you down as a husband. As a father, as best friend. 

The two of you had been college lovers. The star crossed kind of lovers with Jake being the very definition of Mr Popularity and yourself being the well mannered and reserved library dweller. You’d only stumbled across each other's paths one day in the unlikely event that Jake needed to borrow an actual hard copy of a Douglas A Howard book on the Ottoman Empire. 

He ran right into you—and to this day had never stopped loving you. His Honey. 

“Are we not splitting it between my family and yours like we said?” Jake frowned as he stepped out of his truck in the car park on base. You could hear the familiar jingle of his car keys as he shut the door of that black F150 he loved so much behind himself. 

Your contact remained unchanged, it was simply Honeybee. That term of endearment that illuminated his entire phone screen never boded very well in Jake's favour when it came to his meaningless conquests. Hard Deck Badge Bunnies were a dime a dozen, but they were never you. Never the woman he longed for the most. Never the woman Jake let down more than enough times to count on two hands. 

They were never you, because you left him January seventh at approximately four thirty in the afternoon. Jake would never forget that moment, that unimaginable heartbreak of finally coming to the gut wrenching conclusion that you had a limit. Hearing your voice through the phone as he pulled into work made him remember that you were across the country with his three kids in tow. You weren’t his anymore, he’d loved and lost you and didn’t know how to fix what he’d broken. 

“I thought we were gonna—“ 

There wasn’t an easy way to explain to your ex husband how you were sitting in the doctor's office as you spoke to him looking at your last mammogram results. Aggressive Breast Cancer, Stage three A, triple positive grade three invasive doctoral carcinoma. Merry fucking Christmas. So, you interrupted him with a quick explanation, one so out of character and born out of pure panic to keep your newfound diagnosis of stage three breast cancer that needed to be treated as soon as possible before it could progress. 

“I’ve been invited on a friend's trip, we’re going—“ Jake pretends not to hear the slight pause you took in your explanation, he decided it was because you feel guilty for dumping the kids on him like this. He knows you're not a bad mum, that’s why the kids he loves so dearly and with all his heart spend more time with you in Rhode Island than they do with him in North Island. “To Banff, yeah they booked a few rooms in the Sunshine Village but it’s a no kids trip.” 

“You deserve it.” Jake doesn’t want to argue, it’s what ruined your marriage to begin with. The constant arguing back and forth over everything under the sun. But what Jake knew now that he didn’t back then was that over ninety percent of the time those arguments started because you were just begging him to love you the way you deserved. He’d never put you first a day in your marriage even though you’d selflessly followed him across the country to whatever posting, away from your family and friends, birthed his children, twins with heads just as big as his. You gave him love and support and thought he’d do the same in return. 

But the reciprocal love in the form of equality never came no matter how long you waited or gave Jake, the love of your life, your best friend, the father of your children, the benefit of the doubt. It was you who cooked and cleaned and took care of the kids. It was you who stayed home night after night wondering when Jake would be home. It was you who stayed up riddled with anxiety that his last mission would be just that. It was you who heard the rumours about your husband in every city or small town you moved to. That he was a lady killer, a smooth talking guy with a cock sure attitude. He was the prize at the end of any lucky ladies night. 

Except for you. But you never questioned your husband’s loyalty, never once asked or believed what everyone told you. That’s just who Jake was—a charismatic man with a heart of gold that was often overlooked. He was the best of the best and he’d stop at nothing to get where he wanted to go, to the very top. If Jake Seresin had to move a mountain to achieve his dream of becoming Commander of the Pacific Fleet then he was going to move that mountain. It was one of the reasons you’d fallen in love with his very closested dorky self. 

You just never expected him to drop that very mountain on top of you and bury you alive under the pressure of keeping three beautiful kids alive, working, making sure there was food on the table for breakfast, lunch and dinner. The endless hours of housework that went unnoticed or the constant stress of being the default parent while deployments passed and new assignments came around. 

Love sometimes isn’t enough, and Jake, despite the endless love you had for the man who made you a mother and a wife, wasn’t enough. He didn’t love you the way you loved him. Endlessly and without hesitation. Jake had always been your number one priority along with your kids, but you weren’t even on his list. 

Jake knew he messed up when you told him you were leaving, he begged you not to, begged you on his knees to stay, that’s he’d change for you, be a better man for you and the kids. That he would do better, be better, be the man you fell in love with. But it was too late. 

He wished he’d listened to you all the times that you had begged him to, so now? He didn’t want to argue, not with the woman he loved so dearly and missed so badly. 

“I’ll take the kids, no problem, just tell me when I need to be at the airport and I’ll meet you guys there.” 

You’d expected a fight, some sort of push back or argument to come from the other end of the phone call as you sat in your doctor's office with eyes trained heavily on your mammogram. But it never came and that made you sure that your ex husband had well and truly fallen out of love with you the way you wished you could with him. At least he cared enough before to argue, now? It was just passive stupidity. 

“Okay, will do.” You pressed your lips together in an effort to not blurt out that you had asked your doctor if you were going to die and she had told you that she couldn’t answer that. In your mind that was a yes, yes you were dying and you felt like you couldn’t tell the one man you’d ever loved that you were taking that one way ticket to the place he’d once told you he wished you’d go in one of your long winded arguments. Hell. “I’ll uh—I’ll get the kids organised and explain what’s going on and I’ll text you all the information, sound good?” 

“Sounds like a plan, Honeybee.” Jake had yet to kick that old habit. He cringed as the terms of endearment left his mouth and stilled in his tracks. “All good on my end.” His attempt to stumble awkwardly through his mistaken term of endearment didn’t go unnoticed by you in the slightest bit. Your stomach filled with butterflies at the terms that had slipped past your ex husband's lips on the other end of the line. 

You missed him, you missed what the two of you used to be before things got so complicated. You missed the gentle nature of Jake's charisma before he fell so deep into the persona he played up for his colleagues and country. The Hangman. Always leaving people hanging, including his wife. 

Jake was just and always would be simply Jake Seresin to you. Your now ex husband but still and forever the love of your life. 

“Okay, I’ll talk to you soon, bye Jake, have a good day.” You hung up before your tears could spill from your lower lash line and left out a heavy sigh. As you closed your eyes and imagined what it would be like to be held in this moment by the man who promised he’d be there for you in sickness and in health, you reminded yourself why you left. You weren’t good enough for him to love you the way you deserved. How could you expect him to love you now when he couldnt even fix a fucking faucet when you asked? 

“Okay, so what’s the next step?” Your doctor just looked at you with sympathetic eyes that told you this wasn’t going to be easy. She took a deep breath and handed you a treatment plan that was in her opinion, the best case scenario for your specific type of cancer.

“You fight for your family, Mrs Seresin.” 

***~***~***~***~***~***~***~***

Tags: @blindedbythelightt @starset21@tayl0rhuynh @mamachasesmayhem @marvelogic @itsmytimetoodream @maverick-wingman @kodzukenmaaa @eternalsams @seitmai @nota-professional @jessicab1991 @hardballoonlove @senawashere @lafrone @fanficfandomlove @withahappyrefrain @dizzybee03 @maisie-rebloging-blog @goldenseresinretriever @a-reader-and-a-writer

[guilty-ff]

𝐎𝐧𝐞 𝐒𝐡𝐨𝐭: 𝐁𝐚𝐭𝐭𝐥𝐞𝐬 𝐁𝐞𝐲𝐨𝐧𝐝 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐒𝐮𝐫𝐟𝐚𝐜𝐞

Summery: Y/n’s world is turned upside down when she is diagnosed with cancer, leaving her to confront the darkest fears of her life. With Wade Wilson by her side, their bond deepens as they navigate the struggle between despair and hope.

Pairing: Wade Wilson/Deadpool x (cancer!fem)Reader

Genre: Angst, Fluff

Warnings: swearing, mental health, cancer

Word count: 2694

The idea of writing this One Shot was a suggestion from a cancer survivor, and it is dedicated to them. Wishing you all the best. 🫶

The day the doctor said the word "cancer," Y/n's world felt like it was collapsing around her. The sterile office, the birght lights overhead, and the sympathetic look in the doctor's eyes all blurred into a foggy haze. She barely heard the rest of the conversation, her mind stuck on that single word, echoing over and over.

Cancer.

She knew she had to tell Wade, but how? How do you tell the love of your life that the same disease that had torn him apart was now threatening to do the same to you?

She stumbled out of the doctor's office in a daze, clutching the diagnosis papers like they were a death sentence. How could this be happening? How could her life take such a cruel twist?

By the time she got home, her hands were shaking. The apartment was too quiet, too empty. Wade was not home yet, and she was glad for it- she needed time to process this, to figure out how she was going to tell him.

But, as usual, Wade had impeccable timing.

The door burst open, and in walked the love of her life, Wade Wilson. He was in full costume, as usual, but even with the mask on, Y/n could sense something different about him today. Maybe it was the way he moved, a little less swagger in his step, or the way he did not immediately launch into some ridiculous story.

"Hey, sugar tits," he called out, his voice humorous but mixed with something she could not quite figure out. "Guess who just gave the bad guys a five-finger discount on their lives?"

Y/n managed a weak smile, but it did not reach her eyes. "You always know how to brighten up a room, Wade."

"Damn straight," he replied, finally noticing the tension in her voice. "Uh-oh. That tone. What's wrong, babe? You sound like someone kicked your puppy and didn't even leave a note."

She could not meet his eyes. How could she? How could she tell him the very thing that had nearly killed him was now inside of her, too?

"Wade..." Her voice cracked, and she hated how fragile she sounded. "I... I went to the doctor today."

He stiffened, the air in the room growing heavy with unspoken fears. "And?"

"They said... they said I have cancer."

The silence that followed was deafening. Wade stared at her, his mask hiding his expression, but she could feel the shock radiating off him. Then, slowly, he pulled off his mask, revealing the scarred, yet still incredibly expressive face beneath.

"Y/n," he said, his voice rough. "Are you... are you sure? Like, actual cancer? The C-word?"

She nodded, tears brimming in her eyes. "I'm sure."

For a long moment, Wade just stood there, his gaze locked on hers. Then, to her surprise, he crossed the room in two quick strides and pulled her into a fierce embrace, holding her as if she might disappear at any moment.

She nodded, biting her lip to keep from crying. Wade immediately dropped to his knees in front of her, taking her hands in his gloved ones. "Nope, nuh-uh, not happening. We already did this dance once, and it sucked, remember? So, here's the plan: we're going to kick cancer's ass together, and then we're going out for tacos. Sound good?"

Y/n could not help but smile through her tears. "You make it sound so easy."

"Because it is," he said, with that trademark Deadpool confidence. "You're the toughest chick I know, and I'm... well, I'm Wade Wilson, so we're basically unstoppable. Cancer doesn't stand a chance."

Y/n clung to him, letting the tears fall freely now. "But what if... what if I don't?"

He pulled back just enough to look into her eyes, his hands cradling her face. "You will. Because you're strong, and because you've got me. And I don't lose, baby. Ever."

She could not help but let out a watery laugh. Trust Wade to make her smile even in a moment like this. "You're a cocky bastard, you know that?"

"And you love me for it." He pressed a gentle kiss to her forehead. "Now, we're going to fight this together. You're not alone, Y/n. Not ever."

Y/n hadn't spoken much that night. The treatments had taken a toll on her, and Wade could see the exhaustion in her eyes, even as she tried to keep a brave face. He hated seeing her like this, so drained and defeated. But more than that, he hated that there was not a single thing he could do to take the pain away.

Wade lay beside her, propped up on one elbow, his gaze fixed on her pale face. The shadows cast by the city lights danced across his features, softening the harsh lines of his scarred skin. He watched her, his heart aching with a mix of helplessness and determination. He wasn't used to feeling powerless—he was Deadpool, after all, the guy who could take on anything and come out the other side with a snarky comment and a grin. But this... this was different.

"Hey, you still with me?" Wade's voice was soft, barely above a whisper as he reached out to brush a stray strand of hair from her face. His fingers lingered against her skin, warm and comforting.

Y/N's eyes fluttered open, and she gave him a small, tired smile. "Barely," she mumbled, her voice weak but laced with affection.

"Good," Wade replied, forcing a grin onto his face. "Because I'm not done annoying you yet. You know how it is—'til death do us part and all that jazz. And even then, I'll probably just haunt you, so really, there's no escaping me."

A soft laugh escaped Y/N's lips, though it quickly turned into a cough. Wade's grin faded slightly as he scooted closer, wrapping his arm around her and pulling her into his chest. He felt her relax against him, her head resting on his shoulder, and he held her tight, as if he could shield her from the world.

"You know," Wade began, his voice low and soothing, "I've been thinking... I mean, I know that's dangerous and all, but just go with it. Remember when I first found out about my cancer? I was scared shitless, thought my life was over. But then I met you, and suddenly, the idea of sticking around didn't seem so bad anymore."

•┈┈┈•┈┈┈•┈┈┈•┈┈┈•┈┈┈•┈┈┈•┈┈┈•┈┈┈

The days that followed were a blur of doctor's appointments, treatment plans, and long, sleepless nights. But through it all, Wade was there. He was at every appointment, holding her hand, making crude jokes to lighten the mood, and telling the doctors exactly where they could shove their needles if they so much as looked at Y/n the wrong way. He kept the mood light, refusing to let the dark cloud of cancer take away their laughter.

When the treatments started, and the side effects hit hard, Wade was there too. He stayed by her side when the nausea was too much to bear, when she was too weak to get out of bed, when the fear and pain became overwhelming. He held her through the tears, through the anger, through the darkest moments when she did not think she could go on.

One day, as Y/n was sitting in a hospital chair, hooked up to an IV, Wade leaned over, his face just inches from hers. "You know, if I had known you'd be spending so much time in bed, I would have gotten one of those fluffy pillows with my face on it. You know, for comfort."

Y/n rolled her eyes, a small smile across her lips. "I'm pretty sure they'd kick you out of the hospital for bringing that in."

"Oh, I see how it is," Wade teased, pretending to be offended. "Here I am, being all supportive, and you're rejecting my face pillow idea? I'm wounded, Y/n. Deeply wounded."

She chuckled, the sound weak but genuine. "I love you, you idiot."

"I know," Wade said, grinning as he kissed the top of her head. "And that's why I'm here, annoying the crap out of you, until you're cancer-free and we can go back to our regularly scheduled programming of bad guys and bad decisions."

But Wade never wavered. He was her rock, her anchor in the storm. He understood what she was going through in a way no one else could. He knew the fear, the anger, the helplessness that came with a cancer diagnosis. And he fought it with her every step of the way.

But not every day was full of jokes and smiles. There were times when the treatments left Y/n too weak to even laugh at Wade's antics. On those days, they would lay in bed together, Y/n curled up against his chest. Wade spoke softly, his voice filled with a tenderness that was reserved only for her. 

"You know," he began, his fingers tracing idle patterns on her back, "when I found out I had cancer, I thought it was the end. I thought my life was over. But then I became Deadpool, and well... let's just say, shit got weird."

She laughed softly, her head resting against his shoulder. "That's one way to put it."

"But you..." He paused, searching for the right words. "You're different, Y/N. You're not just fighting for yourself. You're fighting for us. And I'm going to be here, every step of the way, making sure you kick this thing's ass."

She looked up at him, her eyes filled with love and gratitude. "I couldn't do this without you, Wade."

He grinned, that familiar mischievous glint in his eyes. "Damn right you couldn't. I'm your secret weapon, babe. Cancer doesn't stand a chance."

"Hey," he said "you know how I'm basically invincible, right? Like, I've been blown up, shot, stabbed, and I'm still kicking?"

"Mm-hmm," Y/N mumbled, her eyes half-closed.

"Well, I'm basically like a really ugly cheerleader. I'll keep cheering you on until this cancer thing gets bored and leaves you alone. And then we'll go get ice cream. Or, you know, find some bad guys to punch. Whatever you're in the mood for."

Y/n closed her eyes, listening to the steady rhythm of his heartbeat beneath her ear. It was comforting, grounding her in the moment, reminding her that she was not alone. Wade's words were like a lifeline, pulling her back from the edge of despair.

"I know you're scared," he continued, his voice softening. "Hell, I'm scared too. But you've got something I didn't have back then- you've got me. And I'm not going anywhere, okay? We're in this together, and I'm not letting you face this alone."

Y/n's hand found his, their fingers intertwining. "I don't want to be weak, Wade. I don't want you to see me like this."

"Hey, hey," Wade said, gently squeezing her hand. "There's nothing weak about you, Y/n. You're the strongest person I know, and trust me, I've met some tough bastards in my time. You're allowed to be scared, and you're allowed to have shitty days. But don't for a second think that makes you weak. You're fighting a goddamn war here, and you're doing it like a champ."

Tears welled up in Y/n's eyes, but she blinked them away, burying her face in Wade's chest. "I'm so tired, Wade," she whispered, her voice trembling. "I don't know if I can keep doing this."

Wade's heart broke at the raw vulnerability in her voice, but he refused to let her see his pain. Instead, he pressed a gentle kiss to the top of her head, his lips lingering there as he spoke. "You can, and you will," he murmured, his voice firm but tender. "Because you're Y/n, and you don't back down from a fight. And when you feel like you can't go on, you just lean on me, okay? I'll carry you if I have to."

For a long moment, they lay there in silence, the weight of Wade's words settling over them. Y/n could feel the steady rise and fall of his chest, the warmth of his body pressed against hers, and it gave her a sense of comfort she hadn't felt in days. With Wade beside her, the darkness didn't seem quite as overwhelming.

"Wade?" she said softly, her voice barely above a whisper.

"Yeah, babe?"

"Thank you... for being here. For... for everything."

Wade smiled, even though she couldn't see it. "You don't have to thank me, Y/n. This is what love's all about, right? Sticking around through the good, the bad, and the 'oh shit, we're out of toilet paper' moments."

Y/n chuckled softly, the sound muffled against his chest. "You really know how to ruin a moment, don't you?"

"It's a gift," Wade replied, grinning as he held her a little tighter. "But seriously, Y/n... I love you. And I'm not going to let you go through this alone. Not now, not ever."

"I love you too, Wade," Y/n whispered, her heart swelling with a mixture of love and gratitude.

They stayed like that for a long time, wrapped up in each other, with Wade occasionally cracking jokes to make her smile. And as the night wore on, Y/n slowly drifted off to sleep, feeling safe and loved in his arms.

Wade stayed awake, watching over her, his mind racing with a thousand thoughts. But one thing was clear: he wasn't going to let cancer take her away from him. He would fight it with her every step of the way, and they would come out on the other side stronger than ever.

Y/n snuggled closer, feeling a sense of peace wash over her. 

As the months passed, Y/n's strength began to return. The treatments were working, and slowly but surely, she started to feel like herself again. Wade was there to celebrate every small victory, every piece of good news. He was her biggest cheerleader, always ready with a joke or a sarcastic comment to keep her spirits up.

Finally, after what felt like an eternity, the day came when the doctor delivered the news they had been praying for.

"Y/n, your scans are clear. There's no sign of the cancer."

She could hardly believe it. Tears welled up in her eyes as the weight of those words settled over her. She was going to be okay.

Wade let out a whoop of joy, scooping her up in his arms and spinning her around the room, much to the dismay of the startled doctor. "I knew it! I fucking knew it! You're a goddamn superhero, Y/n!"

She laughed through her tears, clutching him tightly as he held her. "We did it, Wade. We really did it."

He set her down, cupping her face in his hands as he looked into her eyes, his own brimming with tears. "I knew you could. You're the strongest person I know, Y/n. And I'm so fucking proud of you."

They kissed then, a kiss filled with love, relief, and the unbreakable bond they had forged through their shared struggle. In that moment, nothing else mattered. They had faced the darkness together and come out the other side, stronger than ever.

As they left the doctor's office hand in hand, Wade turned to her with a grin. "So, how about we celebrate by doing something completely reckless and dangerous?"

She raised an eyebrow, a smile playing on her lips. "Like what?"

He smirked, that familiar glint back in his eyes. "I'm thinking chimichangas, a bottle of tequila. You know, the usual."

She laughed, feeling lighter than she had in months. "That sounds perfect."

And as they walked off into the sunset, ready to take on whatever life threw their way, Y/n knew that with Wade by her side, she could face anything.

In sickness and in health, they were unstoppable.

[johbeil]

About my late husband

Once he had retired from work at age 65, my husband got it in his head that he was going to have another career and took to photography with a vengeance. He’d taken occasional snapshots, like everyone else, during vacations or excursions or family occasions, with whatever camera we had at the time – nothing expensive, just the point-and-shoot kind popular in the 1980s and 1990s, getting something…

[wilsons-three-legged-siamese]

another fic of mine woah 😩

fandom; house md

can be interpreted as non slah or slah between house/wilson

summery; wilson is dying, being taken care of a person. but wilson cant remember who they are.

word count; 1.3k

tw; major character death.

a/n: i dont have ao3 so it shall not be put up on there. if it is notify me, ill say if i have given permission as if someone asks i probably will say yes.

this was based on the song "rises the moon - liana flores"

rises the moon.

days seem sometimes as if they'll never end.

its august. the 20th if we're being exact. coming to the close of summer and the opening of autumn, usually being my favourite time of the year. cozy sweaters, warm socks and scarfs, the perfect weather. usually sunny with a nice breeze. well, i wish i could enjoy it. instead, im stuck in bed, my breathing laboured and my body shaking. though, this year, summer was my favourite.. june. i really enjoyed that, when i could walk without aid and just, enjoy life. ever since mid july, ive been deteriorating quicker than an abandoned building, which has been agonising. i want the pain to go away, please. it hurts..

but i dont want to die.

from the bedroom, i hear the singing voice again, a soothing melody. their voice smooth and deep. i sigh softly, it being a sort of comfort for me, knowing at least someone was there and i wasn't alone. their humming and muffled singing drowns out the continuous beeping of the heart monitor besides me. they had stolen the machine after faking being ill in a walk-in clinic, once the doctor had done to complain to the dean about them being an ass, they smuggled the monitor and brought it back. the good ol' days hm? that day was probably the most ive complained and laughed for a long, long time.

a mass than sat on the bed, the weight shifting slightly on the mattress. i ket out an involuntary groan, my back being slightly unsupported.

"hey, i made some broth for you.. its 1, and i think you should at least try and drink it for me," they murmured.

the bowl, of what i assume was broth, was set down on the small table besides me. soon enough, long, lanky arms were wrapped around my middle, gently pulling me up to sit up. wait.. what time did they say again.. 1 was it? only.. 1?

the sun digs its heels to taunt you.

the rim of the bowl was scarcely pressed to my lips, the bowl being slightly hot. i signal them to tip it a little so i can take a sip. and so i do. and holy shit..

thats fucking amazing.

the warm, soupy liquid runs down my throat, a sort of feeling i dont get that often, especially being warm. the way he flavours mix together is phenomenal, the spices and the subtle beef. its flavourful, but not enough to freak my taste buds out, which happens all too often now.

"is it okay?" they ask, their voice soft and gentle.

i hum with a slight nod.

but after sunlit days, one thing stays the same:

rises the moon.

days fade into a watercolour blur.

its been.. maybe a week? my sense of time is so off, it could be a week for a few days.. lets say its been a few days - to make me feel better. im now slipping in and out of consciousness, which is concerning in itself. i dont know how long im out for at a time. theyve been becoming more and more worried about me. i mean, there was always an elephant in the room, hell even when i was first diagnosed. but, the elephant has been growing larger and larger than before, making it hard to ignore. we have to adress it sometime.

but its hard to breathe.

then im awoken by a coughing fit.

it shakes my whole body, racking everything as i shut my eyes tight, desperately trying not to wake them up behind me. but, of course they woke up, they always do. i tried to savour the two, lanky but muscular arms around my abdomen, as they were warm and comforting, but soon, all i could feel was pain.

"are you okay?" they ask, their voice still a bit groggy from sleep.

i hum, my voice still hoarse even though i barely made a sound.

this just reminds me of them, i swear something to do with an infarction to the leg. but i cant quite remember.. or remember them.. their face is slightly recognisable, but not by a lot at all. my memorys been wracked up.. pisses me off, i wanna know whos caring for me. i wanna thank them, using their name, recogising their face.

memories swim up and haunt me.

"hmm.. mm!" i hum, trying to catch their attention.

they run over, quickly turning me on my side and holding the bucket to my mouth. i start to cry as i retch, vomiting harshly into the bucket, they rub my back gently, mumbling words of encouragement and reassurance softly to me. finally, i stop. glancing down at the small puddle of bile and saliva, i frown slightly.

look into the lake, shimmering like smoke.

i look into their eyes. my, coffee like brown into their, ocean like blue. scared and helpless meet concerned and determined. they run their skinny, pianist fingers through my frail hair. they always wanted to care for me, secretly.

rises the moon.

"close your weary eyes, i promise you that soon the autumn comes to darken faded summer skys." they pause for a moment. "breathe, breathe, breathe."

almost immediately after hearing that, i start to cry, just a full on breakdown. they quickly embrace me, wrapping their arms around my middle. i dig my face into theit shoulder, tears still rolling down my pastey cheeks. its nice.

oh to be hugged like this again.

days pull you down just like a sinking ship.

its been a day? maybe.. i dunno anymore. it might've been 2, 3, 4 a week, who knows - not me thats fot sure. it might be september now, i last remember it was august, that seems like yesterday. them, my carer, whatever, i dont know their name anymore. i dont know who they are, i cant see.. its all blurry and fuzzy, so is my memory. i cant remember the last time i ate..

floating is getting harder.

"im sorry.." they mumble, their voice snapping me out of my thoughts - though it was barely above a whisper.

their thin fingers run through my hair again, gently letting it fall between the gaps and repeating.

oh, i forgot to mention, i also cant speak.. or breathe for that matter. i think the tumor - or tumors more like - have begun to press against my trachea and esophagus, making his hard to both eat and breathe. wheezing has become a normal, daily routine.

considering my condition,

i have tonight,

and thats it.

because of my fate, i keep repeating a phrase i once said to a child as they went through chemo. they had no parents, i was the best thing they had..

but thread the water, child, and know that meanwhile: rises the moon.

days pull you up just like a daffodil.

its the next day, i think. its really hard to just think. the weezings gotten worse, i feel awful, like horrendous. its awful... maybe i am ready to die. i can just subtly feek them holding my fraile hand, stroking their thumb over my knuckles. only barely. im scared, terrified more like. i dont even know who they are, but im scared for them.. they'll miss me definitely. what will they do when im gone? i dont know..

uprooted from its garden.

once again, i feel consciousness slip from underneath me. which is normal, very. but this wasn't normal.. i could still hear.

"they'll tell you what you owe," they mumble. "but know even so, rises the moon."

i try to smile, a small twinge of my lips. but nothing happens. i try to tell them i love them, but again, nothing happens.

"you'll be visited by sleep. i promise that the autumn comes to steal away each dream you keep." they choke back a sob.

"breathe, breathe, breathe." houses voice sobs.

they're house.

but its too late to tell him i love him.

[bylrndgm]

seize the day!

byler week 2023 | day ii: 80s movies movie: dead poets society (1989) | insp. dedicated to @edelweiss-coffee

[sjsmith56]

Summary - 2 part story. Four years after leaving Bucky, his former girlfriend arrives at the compound with two surprises.

Length - 2.75K

Characters - Bucky Barnes, named female character, Steve Rogers, Tony Stark, Bruce Banner, Sharon Carter, Helen Cho, Wanda Maximoff.

Warnings - angst, accusations of cheating, cancer, rejection, Bucky not handling the situation well, swearing.

Author notes - was supposed to be a one shot but it kept getting longer. Part 1 is going to be full of drama. If you like what you’re reading please let me know by commenting or reblogging.

〰️〰️〰️〰️〰️

Part 1

It was there in black and white. All the tests, all of the imaging that had been done; everything pointed to the same conclusion. Lane sighed, pursed her lips together in a grim smile then looked at the doctors.

“I would like a second opinion,” she said. “Could you send my file to Dr. Bruce Banner and Dr. Helen Cho of the Avengers?”

“You’re a patient of them?” asked Dr. Roberts.

“No, I was an agent at one time,” she replied. “They’ll look at it as a courtesy to me.”

“If they concur? Anything that can be done would only be palliative.”

“I understand,” said Lane. “I’ll be in touch.”

There was a ringing sound in her ears as she left the office and went down the elevator to the main floor. Before the door opened she took a deep breath and calmed herself. The nanny had Danny on her lap on one of the lobby chairs, reading a story to him. He turned his head when he heard Lane’s footsteps coming out of the elevator. Already, at 3 ½ years of age, he was displaying his abilities and he wriggled off Carol’s lap, running to his mother.

“Momma, are you done?” he asked. “Can we go for lunch? I’m hungry.”

“Sure, baby,” she smiled, kneeling down to his level. “We’ll get something to eat, then we’ll go to the playground, okay?”

She stood up, taking him by the hand, smiling at Carol, the nanny, who knew her well enough to know the news wasn’t good. Taking Danny by the other hand she looked at Lane as they walked towards the exit.

“What’s next?”

“Banner and Cho are going to look at my file,” replied Lane. “But I don’t think they’ll be able to do anything.” She glanced sideways at the woman who became her good friend this past year. “I know, I’ll have to tell him. I just … I just wanted Danny to have as normal a life as possible.”

As they stepped outside the building she looked up at the blue sky, feeling the sun on her face, and hearing the sound of birdsong in the trees. For a moment, she felt her throat constrict, at the thought of not being there for her son, but she swallowed it down. If Bruce and Helen couldn’t help her then she would tell Bucky, tell him what she had kept from him when she left the Avengers over four years before.

〰️〰️〰️〰️〰️

Bucky landed the quinjet on the platform of Stark Tower, then went through his checklist before shutting the aircraft down. Behind him he could hear people standing up, groaning and stretching after the long flight from Australia, where they had undertaken a humanitarian rescue in a gold mine, after it collapsed. Feeling a hand on his shoulder he looked behind him at Steve’s face.

“Beers?” he asked.

“Yeah, but shower first,” replied Bucky. “I swear I’m still caked with the dirt from the rescue.”

Grabbing his go bag he followed the others out and they made their way to the residential level, all of them crammed together into the elevator. With being pretty ripe from the long flight they all held their breath as best they could before streaming out of the opening doors. After entering the door code of his quarters Bucky dropped his bag off inside the door, toed off his boots and stripped down as he walked, coveting the warm shower that beckoned to him.

Fifteen minutes later, with clean clothes on he stepped out of his quarters and headed to the lounge area. Steve already had several beers on the counter, handing one to Bucky and Sam who was right behind him. As others followed he gave them a beer and they all fell onto the big sectional couch, taking long pulls of the refreshing beverage. Just as Bucky took a second long drink of his bottle Friday interrupted the quiet of the gathering.

“Sergeant Barnes, would you please report to the medical lab?” the voice asked. “Dr. Banner wishes to see you.”

“Why?” asked the super soldier. “I just sat down and want to relax.”

“Yes sir,” replied Friday. “I’m not a liberty to state the reason except it is important that you report there.”

Draining his beer Bucky stood up and placed the bottle on the counter, scowling as he headed to the elevator. When it opened on the floor of the medical lab he was surprised to see Bruce, Dr. Cho, and Tony Stark all together in the lab. There was a fourth person in there but they were seated and he couldn’t make out who it was from outside the sliding doors.

“What’s so important that I had to come up here?” he asked as he entered.

Then the fourth person stood up and faced him, leaving him almost speechless.

“Hello, Bucky,” said Lane, her voice tentative. “I asked for you to be here.”

“What the hell? You walk out of my life over 4 years ago, without a word and suddenly you’re demanding to see me? What’s going on?”

“Sit down, Barnes,” said Tony, tersely. “Lane thinks you should have a say in this. I don’t agree, but I’ve been overruled.”

“A say in what?” asked Bucky, feeling the anger bubble up inside him.

“I’m dying,” said Lane, deciding to rip the bandage all the way off. She took her wig off so he could see her lack of hair from the radiation treatment she endured. “It means that our son should be with his father.” Bucky said nothing but he was shocked at her almost bald head and his face turned a brilliant shade of red. “You’re a father. His name is Daniel James, and he’s 3 ½ years old. If you don’t take him I’ll have to put him up for adoption.”

“Why didn’t you tell me?” he asked, his heavy breathing indicating how precarious his control was at that moment. Then he looked at the other three. “Did you all know?”

“It was my decision to keep it from you,” said Lane. “They only found out after he was born, and I asked them not to tell you. I wanted him to have a chance at a normal childhood. That wasn’t going to happen with how you were then.”

“How I was then? I was in love with you!” Bucky was shouting now. “You were it for me. Then I come back from a mission and you’re gone. Everything belonging to you, gone. Why?”

Lane closed her mouth in a grim line and shook her head. She knew it would be like this. Taking a deep breath she straightened her posture to appear as tall as she could and looked him in the eye.

“You were so in love with me that you slept with Sharon when I went to see my mom before she died,” she stated calmly. “You didn’t even take her panties out of the bed, Bucky. I found them there when I changed the sheets when I got back. Our sheets reeked of her perfume. You cheated on me.” She turned away, angry at herself for thinking this was a good idea. “Forget it. I’ll find someone to adopt Danny, someone who won’t lie or sneak around with another woman.”

“I didn’t sleep with her,” he said, his voice breaking. “She was in the bed waiting for me and I walked out. I slept on Steve’s couch until we went out on a mission. You can ask him. Please, Lane, I didn’t cheat. I wouldn’t do that to you.”

She kept her back turned to him, trying not to break down. The others watched him, not sure what to believe then Bucky turned around and went to the elevator, returning to the lounge area. Practically storming to where the others were he glared at Sharon Carter, his lip curled in fury.

“It was your fault,” he sneered. “Your little stunt made Lane leave me. I loved her and wanted to marry her but you didn’t respect that. Because of you I wasn’t there for her when she gave birth to my son. Did any of you know?” He looked at Steve as the others tried not to make eye contact with Bucky. “Did you know I was a father and you didn’t tell me? Did you all think I slept with Sharon?”

“Buck, I didn’t know that Lane had a baby,” said Steve. “I’ll tell her you slept on my couch after finding Sharon in your bed, but I didn’t know that’s why she left. Lane left all of us without a word.”

“Not all of us,” interjected Wanda. “It wasn’t for us to tell you. It was Lane’s decision to leave and her decision not to tell you she was pregnant. I’m sorry.”

Shaking his head in disbelief, Bucky’s face went dark with betrayal and anger.

“Fuck you all.”

Turning around he went to his room and repacked his go bag, converting it to a backpack, then put his leathers and motorcycle boots on. Taking the stairs he went down to the garage, mounted his motorcycle and started it up. Steve came out of the elevator, stopping in front of him.

“Don’t do this,” he said. “Don’t fly off the handle. You have a chance to make it better but if you leave ….”

“If I leave, what?” demanded Bucky. “She was everything to me. Now I find out that she thought I was cheating on her. I have a son that she’s giving up for adoption because she’s dying and she’d rather a stranger have him than his own father. How do you think that makes me feel, Steve, huh? I have nothing now, nothing to keep me here.”

He glared at Steve until the blond stepped aside then roared out of the garage on his motorcycle, barely waiting for the automatic door to open. Closing his eyes and shaking his head Steve turned back to the elevator and went up to the medical level, hoping to catch Lane before she left. She was still in the medical lab, crying as Tony hugged her. Right away Steve noticed she had no hair on her head and his heart dropped. When Steve entered Tony looked angrily at him.

“I told you something like this would happen when you first vouched for him to be an Avenger,” he said. “We couldn’t trust him.”

“He didn’t sleep with Sharon,” stated Steve. “We were working out and came back to the rooms to shower. He found her already in their bed, told her to get the hell out, and left. Until we went on a mission he slept on my couch. I’m guessing she left her underwear in there to cause the rift. Not that it matters now. He’s gone.”

Lane stopped crying and turned to Steve. “What do you mean, gone?”

“He packed a bag, put his leathers on and rode out on his motorbike. According to him he now has nothing to keep him here, since you would rather have a stranger adopt your son than have Bucky take him.”

Lane buried her face in her hands, certain that she had destroyed any possibility of making amends with the man she still loved.

“Friday, call Sharon Carter here,” said Tony. “Might as well confirm it from one of the guilty parties.”

“Tony ….”

Steve shook his head, angry at the way Tony automatically assumed that Bucky was in the wrong. Then he remembered what his friend had said about Lane.

“Is it true? Are you dying?”

She nodded her head. “The same breast cancer that killed my mother. Even though I had a double mastectomy and radiation treatment it metastasized. It’s everywhere. I have months left. I was hoping … I don’t know what I was hoping for.”

The sliding glass doors opened and Sharon Carter walked in, then almost walked out when she saw Lane.

“No, you get in here,” said Tony. “I want the truth and remember Friday can tell when someone is lying. Did you sleep with Bucky while Lane was visiting her dying mother?”

All sorts of emotions played over Sharon’s face as she looked from person to person, then she finally shook her head.

“No, I was waiting for him but as soon as he saw me he told me to get the hell out,” she admitted. “I left my panties there and sprayed the sheets with my perfume, hoping Lane would leave him so I could be with him instead. After she left he wouldn’t even look at me. I’m sorry.”

Tony was furious, at himself as much as at Sharon. “Pack your stuff and get out,” he said. “I don’t care where you go but we can’t trust you to have our backs.”

“Please, it was a mistake,” she protested. “I haven’t tried anything like that since. Being in the Avengers is all I have.”

“No, I don’t want you here,” he said. “Because of you a good man has left the Avengers, and a small boy is without his father.” He looked sarcastically at Steve. “I know, I’m not much better as I didn’t believe him but I’m willing to try to fix this. Getting rid of her is the first step.”

“Steve, please, don’t let Tony do this,” cried Sharon. “You’re a team leader. Tell him I’m not like that anymore.”

“I wish I could,” said Steve. “Sorry, but I’m with Tony on this. Bucky wasn’t the only one you did this sort of thing to.”

Sharon turned red. “I don’t know what you mean,” she declared, breathing audibly.

“Peter and MJ,” replied Steve. “He told me. The kid was practically shaking with anger that you would do that. You should go, Sharon. Otherwise, we’ll have to put it to a vote and you don’t want to know what the others think of you.”

“Fine, I’m going.” She turned around then looked back, her face full of disgust. “You’ll regret this. I know a lot of your secrets.”

“Be careful who you threaten,” warned Tony. “Friday, remove all access to the facilities, including computer access and anything else that has been granted to Sharon Carter. She can get into her room to get packed but once she leaves the building remove that as well. You signed an NDA when you became an Avenger, Sharon. You say anything, I have every right to sue you for everything you own, and make it impossible for you to work anywhere ever again.”

Tony called security to escort Sharon to her quarters to pack and escort her out. Then he faced Lane, placing both his hands on her upper arms.

“I’m sorry,” he said. “If you had told me this four years ago I would have dealt with it then.” He glanced at Bruce. “Are you sure there’s nothing that can be done?”

Bruce and Helen looked at each other uneasily. “A long shot,” he replied. “I can try to recreate the serum using Steve’s blood as he has type O blood, universal donor. But we don’t know if we have the time to do it before ….”

“How much blood do you need?” asked Steve immediately, his attention focused on Bruce.

“A unit, from both of you,” he said. “We’ll test it on your blood first, Lane, but I can’t promise anything. I mean I worked years on the serum and look what it did to me. My track record isn’t that good.”

Lane’s lips trembled. “The only other treatment for me is palliative,” she stated. “Even if you just buy me time that’s more than I have now.”

While Bruce and Helen took their blood Tony used Friday to track Bucky by his vibranium arm. He was on one of the expressways.

“Take one of my cars,” said Tony to Steve. “I’d go but I don’t think he would take my apology.”

“I’m coming with you,” added Lane. “The first to apologize to him should be me.”

As soon as the two of them gave their blood they went down to the garage, taking one of Tony’s vehicles. While they drove out of the parking garage, Sharon Carter was put into a taxi, never to return to Stark Tower again. With Friday tracking Bucky they followed his route until the AI informed them that he arrived at a destination, hoping he didn’t do something stupid before they got there.

Part 2>>

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[godblooded]

honestly i know it’s gonna be fucking hard but. i think to be able to handle this… i have to watch markiplier’s that dragon cancer playthrough.

[drsunshine-nophd]

Idk why I feel like saying this, but I'm saying it anyway for anyone who wants to hear it.

I do not write anymore due to personal reasons. However, I've learned from classes I took that it's ok to get writers block. It's ok if you're taking a while to write, and it's ok if the drive for what you were writing vanishes. You don't owe anyone your work. If it takes you 5 years to write a chapter, so be it. If it takes you 12 to even get started, that's okay! If you get to the final chapter and just don't want to anymore, for any reason at all, then that's fine, too. People who actually like your work, no matter what it is, will stick by you and support you. Write for yourself, write what's in your mind, and if you get tired? Take a break. You deserve it.

And you, dear reader? If the author you love takes a long time or is offline often. Do not get mad at them. Send them love and encouragement. Have patience for something you love. Either as a consumer or creator.

[karouvas]

When Alice Quinn said “and you’re the standing expert on all things me? based on what our garbage fire of a relationship that ended with Eliot’s dick in your mouth?” and when Blue Sargent said “you wouldn’t go somewhere without Gansey though. You two make a fine couple. Kiss him!” Their slay!! Ik Quentin and Adam were gagged. Also a thoroughly understandable reaction to have to dating then breaking up with a bisexual Cancer man.

[transistoradio]

Four Penguin SF novels with cover art by David Pelham.

[rewritingcanon]

back when i had 60 followers and a snape/snarry stan misinterpreted a post i made about snape as slander, scrolled thru my account to bitch about something, decided a post i made about DORLENE was the best option for a rebuke (😭), reblogged my post to bitch about me and dorlene (???) and then told me to stay off atyd. i think about this moment a lot now that i have peace on this account….

[ohtobeleah]

Was It Over? // Jake Seresin

-> Chapter Three: [V For Vendetta]

Summary: When your stomach can’t handle the Chemo medication, you empty the content of your stomach. While doing so, you and Jake come to a crossroads about your relationship going forward.

Warnings: Sick!reader. Breast cancer diagnosis. Jake Seresin x F!reader. Angst, hospital & medical inaccuracies. SLOW BURN ROMANCE/SMUT 18+ content. Inaccurate medical information. Relationship turmoil.

Word Count: 4:5k

Author Note: EEEPPPP! It’s like watching a car wreck happen right before your very eyes. You want to but you can’t look away!

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“Shhh—I don’t want the kids to hear.” The palm of your hand came down softly on top of Jake's lips as you straddled his waist, you couldn't help but to rock your hips back and forth as the very tip of his hardened length kissed your cervix. Jake's entire length throbbed inside your sex at the slightly mean but even hotter act. “Stop being so loud, we aren’t in some navy issued apartment where you and your STD riddled conquests can be as loud as you wanna be.” 

As soon as the kids were in bed and sleeping, you and Jake were running back to your bedroom like giddy teenagers. You led him down the hall hand in hand and even before you had your bedroom door open, Jake had his hands all over you pushed up against the hallway wall that hung family photos. Including but not limited to a few of your wedding pictures. 

“Mmm.” Jake licked a long strip up the palm of your hand before he took control of the situation and flipped the two of you over. Now he was the one on top but his perfect view hadn’t changed, you were still the star of the show whether you were riding him or under him. 

“Ew! Jake, don't be disgusting!” 

“It was not even five minutes ago that I was down between your thighs using the same tongue I just liked your hand with to make you moan.” Jake teased as he leaned in to kiss the sweet spot on the junction of your next. Your back arched at the sensation of your ex’s slow but steady thrusts. The small but audible whimper that escaped your lips had Jake smiling against your skin. “You needy girl.” He’d missed you, missed your touch, your taste, your beautiful orgasmic sounds. 

“Some of us haven’t been whoring around—“ You sighed as Jake's hands roamed your exposed body, the feeling of roughed palms against your hips sent shivers down your spine. 

“No, no some of us just use their husbands credit card to buy new sex toys—“ What else was a girl supposed to do? You still had needs, needs that weren’t gonna be met with fingers alone. 

“Ex husband.” You felt the need to reiterate. Jake's thrusts sped up slightly, giving you a little more as your nails dug deeper into the muscles that littered his back. “Ahh fuck! and you left it here for me to use.” 

“Can those toys of yours make you feel this way?” Jake groaned as his thrusts began more intent filled, he was a man with a plan, an end goal—to get you off. “Use your words Honey, be a good girl for me.” 

It had been too long, far too long since you’d felt the touch of a man. Especially your man. The pad of Jake's thumb pressed softly into the bundle of exposed nerves that were perfectly swollen and throbbing just for him. He felt you tense at the overwhelming sensation, the feeling of utter euphoria mixed with the light hearted banter that was you and Jake. “Tell me what you want and I’ll give it to you, but not until you say please.” 

“I—“ It was getting harder to formulate sentences as the wave of impending pleasures rolled in, you were right on the cusp. “Jake I—“

“You want me to make you cum don’t you?” All you could do was nod desperately. “Ohh baby girl look at you all fucked out, so far gone.” 

“Please!” Jakes hand came down the press itself against your mouth as he fucked you into the mattress. His hips slammed against your with so much need and lust he swore the both of you would have matching wounds to lick in the morning, when regret set in the the haze cleared. 

“Shhh—that’s my girl, cum for me, we don’t want the kids hearing how much of a needy little thing you are for me.” Oh this mother fucker. 

“Ahhhh fuck fuck fuck I’m cu-coming!” It was barely a sentence but from behind his palm Jake could understand what you were saying. He watched as your eyes rolled and your body tensed and your velvet walls clamped down around him. “Jake!” 

“I’ve got you Honeybee, I’ve got you.” Jake groaned as he followed right behind you, his length twitch as the all too familiar sensation of that pool forming at the base of his shaft overwhelmed him. “I’m with you—ohhhh fuckk Y/n, yesss!” 

Jake landed right on top of you as he came down from his high, completely spent. His sweaty locks tickled your nose as you peppered kisses to the very top of his head. 

“We should shower.” You broke the silence that had filled your dimly lit bedroom. 

“Is that an invitation?” Jake queried as he lifted his head from your bare chest. 

“If you’re up for it.” You replied through a loving smirk. Jake couldn’t help but to capture your lips in a headed but loving kiss. He missed you so much. 

“Oh I’m up for it.” He cooed against your lips, just trying to savour every fleeting moment he knew this was. This moment of weakness. “I'm so up for it.” 

***~***~***~***~***~***~

“I wanna marry you.” You could still remember the words Jake spoke in the library the day you tried to break off whatever it was the two of you had become in college. It was early on in your blooming relationship, but you had your doubts. You had heard rumours he was no good, trouble if you will. That Jake was just this gloating self assured, arrogant guy who liked to throw a football around and take girls back to his dorm room to fuck and forget. 

“I wanna have kids with you.” You’d tried to let him down gently by telling him that it wasn't him, but you. And by all accounts the break up, if that's what you could even call it, went rather well. Until Jake Seresin showed up at your dorm rooms two days later after he’d practically stalked you around campus like some lost, love sick puppy you'd dumped in the rain. 

“I wanna build us a house, settle down, and grow old with you.” Jake's words were still there inside your mind as your eyelids flickered from the early morning light that threatened to consume your bedroom. The bedroom you shared with your ex husband last night.

“I wanna die when I'm one hundred and ten years old, in your arms.” Jake held you close and pressed up against his exposed chest as he slept soundly beside you. Strong arms encapsulated your torso as you woke, threatening to keep you hostage for the foreseeable future because if there was one thing about Jake you could never forget, it was his ability to press snooze over and over and over again until he had about five minutes to shit shower and shave. 

“I don't want this to just be a fling, I want a lifetime with you.” It was ironic really that you were remembering that moment as bile rose in the back of your throat because with your odds? You didn't have a lifetime to give him anymore. Regardless of your current separation. Your life was slipping through the metaphorical hands of time every day that passed.

“Oh god–” You couldn't stop it once the feeling started, the overwhelming urge to expel whatever reminisce remained in your stomach from dinner. You didn't have time to worry if you woke Jake up, you didn't have time to sneak out of his warm embrace, all you had time to do was rush to your ensuite and drop to your knees at your toilet before it was too late.  

“Y/n?” You heard Jake grumbled as he stirred at the sudden loss of your presence, he hadn’t slept so soundly in months. Having you tucked up against him still brought a solace that was unparalleled to anything Jake could ever dream of. “Honey? You alright?” All Jake was met with was the sound of violent coughing accompanied soon after by the gut wrenching sound of vomit hitting the porcelain bowl of your ensuite toilet. “Oh my god—“ 

Jake was up within seconds, the covers that barely covered his body were thrown to the side as he jumped out of your bed in just a pair of boxer briefs he’d thrown on after your sexcapades last night. They did very little to prevent your imagination from running wild with delight and lust as he came into your ensuite, you may have been feeling unwell but Jake had an adonis like body he wasn’t shy about.

“I’m fine—“ Was all you managed out before you were heaving again, your hands gripped either side of the toilet bowl like your life depended on it. 

“Here,” Jake cooed as he kneeled down behind you only to hold your hair with one hand so it wouldn’t get caught in the trajectory of your sick and rubbed small soothing circles against your back. “Maybe Lucy was right, you have been sick?” Jake couldn’t help but to frown as he watched you empty the content of your stomach into the toilet for another five minutes. Jake's mind wandered back to all the times he’d done the same thing as he was now when you were pregnant with the twins, with Sammy. 

“I’m fine—“ You sighed as you reached up to flush the toilet and wipe your mouth with some toilet paper. “Totally fine, I just—I don’t even know what it is, but I feel better now.” You couldn’t come up with an excuse fast enough for your body's sudden urge to throw up. You knew exactly what it was through, the oral chemo. Those nasty little fuckers had you throwing up all day most days. “I’ll see a doctor when I get back, before the kids come home.” 

“Are you sure you still wanna go?” Jake asked as you sat back against the wall with him. “I mean, you could always come with us? Spend it with family, especially if you’re not feeling one hundred percent.” It was an enticing offer, especially since you weren’t actually going on a holiday, but rather into hospital for possible life saving surgery. 

“The trips paid for, I have to go.” You sighed miserably into Jake's shoulder as he comforted you. “Besides, I’m pretty sure your mums still holding a grudge against me for wanting to separate.”

“I’m still holding a grudge against you for that.” You reacted quickly to Jake’s witt and slapped his chest. “Ow!” He groaned playfully as you chuckled softly and shook your head. “I’m kidding, I'm kidding—“ Jake cooed as he watched you bring your knees up to your chest. “But can I ask you something?” 

“Depends on the question.” You mumbled as you pressed your forehead against Jake's shoulder. Still trying to find some comfort as lightheadedness threatened to consume you. 

Jake didn’t reply right away, he simply looked to his left a little and caught the sight of the pair of you sitting side by side on the bathroom floor. He’d spent so many nights trying to think of ways to fix things, to fix what he accidentally and unintentionally broke. But right now, after spending the night with you, being back with the kids he loved so dearly and remembering what it was he truly needed in order to be the man he wanted to be? Jake knew he needed to ask. 

“If there’s a guy—“

“Oh god Jake—“ You groaned at the idea. He was the one who’d slept with other people, not you. At least you had the decency to keep your nights out of sight. The only rumours Jake would have known were the ones he concocted on his own accord about your hips and thighs and your whispered sighs. Oh god you couldn’t even begin to imagine what his wildest dreams had been imagining about what you’d been up to during your separation. 

Because there were no other men. It was simply Jake. 

There had been far too many nights where you thought about jumping off of very tall somethings, just to see him come running and say the one thing you’d been wanting. But no. Jake never came, not since March when Coyote told you about Jake’s first air to air kill. The kill he still hadn’t told you about yet. 

“I need you to know that I’m trying here, to fix my mistakes.” 

“There’s nothing to fix Jake—“ You knew that this was a bad idea, that last night was a bad idea. That ever letting Jake believe there was any chance of reconciliation to be achieved in your marriage was a mistake. “We separated because our marriage wasn’t working, we’re no good together.” 

“That’s ass and you know it.” Jake replied rather sharply as you raised your head from his shoulder. “We were good together, we are good together, you just don’t wanna admit that this whole separation was a mistake because you still love me just as much as I love you.” 

“You just aren’t a good husband Jake!” The tone you chose to use had Jake shutting up rather quickly. Perhaps you were a little too harsh, but the hope you saw in his eyes was killing you. “I left because you didn’t love me enough to put me first.” You frowned as you tried to read Jake's facial expression. 

Surely this wasn’t a new revelation to him, he knew, right? He knew that although he loved you in his own way, Jake stopped putting you first when he figured out how high he could really climb in his career. Jake stopped putting you first when he saw his potential, his ability to be the best and nothing but. He stopped putting you first when Lenny and Lulu were born, and again when Sammy accidentally came along. He stopped putting you second and third and fourth until you weren’t ever the priority in any situation. 

“I need one more chance to show you how good of a husband I can be.” Jake nearly begged. “Just one—“

“You had ten whole years to get it right and you couldn’t do it, what makes you think one more chance is gonna miraculously solve the fact that you’re just not the type of person who should have a wife?” Part of you wanted to walk away till he really listened, you needed to be able to look into Jake's eyes and know that the two of you were feeling different. 

Jake Seresin had been told he was a lot of things. A bad friend, a good pilot, the family disappointment. He’d been told once by a supervising officer that if he didn’t have a family, maybe he’d fly less conservative, be better, take more risks. That same officer sent him to Miramar for the Dagger mission that same year when he heard through the grapevine of your separation. 

Jake had been told he was a catch, sex on legs, the life of the party and the guy any girl would be lucky to go home with. But he already had his girl, the meek library dweller who tried to break up with him in college. The woman who birthed his three children, his best friend, you. 

So the worst thing Jake Seresin had ever been told he was? Was that he was without a doubt a shitty husband. And the worst part about being told that was it came from you, the woman he loved, his wife. 

“So divorce me if I’m such a crap fucking husband Y/n!” Jake hissed. “It’s almost been an entire year and I don’t know where I stand with you?” He argued as you tried to fight off the urge to throw up again. “I can’t stay separated from you anymore, I can’t keep acting like the love of my life didn’t leave me, I can’t keep telling myself that you’ll come back, I can’t keep telling myself that you won’t find someone else who deserves you more than I do, I need you to tell me it’s over so I can move on!” 

“I—“ You wanted to blurt it out then and there as you tried to stand from the tiled bathroom floor. Jake, even in his fit or very understandable rage, reached out to help you. Even if he was a shitty husband he was still a pretty good friend. “I have—“ You wanted to tell him, tell Jake you were dying. Tell him that this time around it actually wasn’t him, but you. Hell maybe if you weren’t riddled with cancer you might even consider that one more chance he wanted so desperately. But as you stood to your feet and Jake stood to his, you saw the half packed suitcase of yours on the floor next to your bed. The suitcase you were taking to the hospital right after you watched Jake and your kids leave for the holidays. The Christmas holidays you were missing: 

Because you were fighting Cancer and Jake didn’t know. 

“I have to finish packing.” You sighed and settled with that. As you looked into Jake's eyes you could physically see the heartbreak mixing in with the emerald green. “Maybe we can organise divorce lawyers after the holidays, keep it civil, for the kids.” 

Jake remained silent as he just looked at you, his wife, telling him that yes, divorce was on the horizon after all. He just stood there in utter defeat knowing that what had become of your marriage was his own fault. You tried all you could for as long as you could before you had to let him go. 

“Just tell me his name at least.” Jake gritted his teeth. “When you find him.” You could tell Jake was holding back tears as he reached out to cup your cheek. “The guy who doesn’t fuck it up.”

“There’s not gonna be another guy.” You quietly replied as you leaned into Jake's touch. “I just need to put myself first for once and be happy with my own company.” Jake nodded like he understood but you knew deep down he didn’t believe you. The kiss he left on your forehead told you that.

“I’m gonna go get the kids up.” He explained as he cleaned his throat. “I’ll let you finish packing for your trip.” You let Jake turn on his heels and watched as he pulled those same grey sweatpants up his legs before you called his name quietly. 

“Jake?” 

“Yeah?” He replied sadly, like he had no fight left to give. There was an understanding between the two of you in that moment that this was truly the end, that whatever the two of you still were or were holding onto, that it had come to an end. 

“I’m sorry.” You pressed your lips together in an attempt not to cry, but Jakes saw your tears. He saw them looking in your lower lash line. 

“Me too.” Was all Jake replied before he left your room, leaving you alone with your own emotions and thoughts to try and calm yourself down knowing that whatever was to come would never hurt as much as officially losing the love of your life.  

***~***~***~***~***~

“Here you go baby, Jam toast.” For what’s it worth, you and Jake tried hard to keep things as normal as they could be for the kids, so when you finally made your way downstairs after showering and getting yourself ready, he was waiting with a coffee made for you like you didn’t just rip his heart from his chest and gutter stomp it into the carpet. 

“Hi mama.” Sam cooed as you walked over to where he sat on Jake’s lap being fed fingers of soggy jam toast. 

“Hi baby boy!” You smiled bright at your youngest and touched his nose with the tip of your finger. “Did you sleep okay? Are you so excited to go to grandmas today?” All little Sammy did was nod and eat his toast, Jake bounced him gently on his knee at the dining table, enjoying the moment with his son. “Where’s thing one and thing two?” You asked as you noticed the quiet lull that filled the kitchen and dining room. Lucy and Lennox were nowhere to be seen.

“They’re still getting ready.” Jake shrugged your concern off. He didn’t even bother to look at you as you took the coffee he’d made for you and took a sip. “Said they’d be down soon.” 

“Well we can’t let them mess around for too much longer, we need to get you guys off to the airport.” It was meant to be a simple statement, a conversation between adults about the appropriate time to arrive at the domestic terminal for Jake’s flight to Huston. But it wasn’t that. 

“Yeah—“ Jake rolled his eyes as Sammy asked for more soggy jam toast. “Like you said last night right, you just can’t wait to get me out of the house.” 

“Jake—don’t be this way.” You couldn’t say you were surprised that Jake had changed up his attitude so quickly, but you were a little shocked he was acting this way in front of Sam. Sure he was only two but it still felt wrong. 

“I’m not being a way.” Jake still didn’t look at you, he couldn’t. If he looked at you he was gonna lose his mind. 

“You’re acting like we’ve already signed divorce papers!” You hissed through gritted teeth and under your breath just in case your two other children came running down the stairs. 

“Well, I can't keep acting like you’re my wife now can I?” Jake could be petty if he wanted to, he once went four days without speaking to Phoenix purely because she said she reckons he can’t fuck for shit. Truth was he hadn’t had a fuck since January, truth was he took someone home that same night. Truth was he called out your name when he came and turns out Vanessa could throw a pretty hard punch. 

“Doesn’t mean you have to revert back to being Hangman, Hangman.” You mumbled under your breath but knew Jake heard you. You knew because for the first time since you came downstairs he finally looked at you. 

“What did you just call me?” Jake hissed as he stood up, he held Sam on his hip as he stepped towards you with a stern look on his face. “What the hell did you just call me?” 

“You, heard, me, want me to say it again?” You remembered the day your husband came home and told you he got his callsign. Some jerkoff by the name of Bradley Bradshaw had been assigned to be his wingman. Jake had given him his callsign, Rooster, because he thought the guy was full of chicken shit. 

But Bradley had landed Hangman after a particularly rough training session where Jake had left Bradley behind, in a real situation he would have died. And thus the Hangman was born. It was needless to say the two didn’t see eye to eye most of the time. 

“Kids!!” Jake shouted loud enough for you to jump as his voice echoed off the walls. He saw the look in your eye, the uncertainty of what the two of you were doing. So Jake stepped back, offered you a soft lipped silent apology and waited for you to silently tell you that you were good. “Get down here now! we’re leaving!” 

***~***~***~****~***~***

The airport was just as busy as it had been yesterday, only this time instead of waiting for Jake to join you and the kids, he was taking them with him, back to his mum's house for Christmas. 

You’d never spent Christmas away from your kids before so it was understandable that you were a little upset, but Jake saw the way your hands shook as you kneeled down before Lenny to fix his jumper. 

“You be so good for your dad, alright?” You cooed as you rubbed your nose against his. “And make sure you keep an eye on your sister and brother on the farm.”

“I wish you were coming with us mum.” Lucy added as she jumped on your back and clung to you with her arms around your shoulders. 

“I know baby I know, but I packed a few presents in your bags from me and dad and Santa will know where you are too.” Jake had an extra duffel full of all the toys your kids would be receiving this year, plus any extra they received from Jake’s side of the family. You knew Janeen and Rodney would go overboard as always. 

“Enjoy your holiday mum!” Lucy giggled in your ear as you hugged her arms. 

“I will baby I will, and I’ll miss you all so much!” 

“We better head off.” Jake hesitantly interrupted. He didn’t want to come across as if he was trying to hurry the goodbye along. Knew how important it was for you to say goodbye, even if he thought it was an unnecessary one. You should have been spending Christmas with them. 

“No—No you’re right, you guys better hurry along now or else you’ll miss your flight.” You tried to hide your sadness as you rose to your feet. “Bye my little guy.” You cooed to Sammy as he sucked his thumb and let his head rest against Jake's shoulder. “Seeya Daddio, take care of them will you?”

“Don’t stress, I’ve got them Honey.” Jake reminded you softly as he brought you in for your own goodbye. He had no idea how much that one act of kindness meant to you. The last touch of a man who would never know what you were about to go through and already going through. “Alright kiddos, let’s roll out!” He smiled as you let go and watched your family head further into the airport. Lucy was the only one who looked back at you to see you waving as they disappeared into the crowd. 

It was only when you lost sight of your little family did you finally allow yourself to break. With a hand over your mouth you sobbed quietly to yourself before you turned to head back to the car. 

“You’re on your own now.” In a 2009 research paper titled Gender disparity in the rate of partner abandonment in patients with serious medical illness, a study was conducted out of a pool of five hundred and fifteen married people suffering a vast array of serious medical illnesses. 

Out of those five hundred and fifteen participants, fifty three percent were female and the other forty seven percent were men. What researchers found over the course of this particular study was that the gender disparity when dealing with divorce was that twenty one percent of women diagnosed with chronic or serious illnesses were being divorced by their husbands, while men were only around the three percent mark. 

You were handed that pamphlet in the same doctor's appointment where you were told you had stage three A, triple positive grade three invasive doctoral carcinoma. It was something oncologists had started adopting rather recently as those rates had risen rather rapidly since 2009. 

Good thing you had already separated from your husband prior to your diagnosis huh? 

“You’re all on your own.”

***~***~***~***~***~***

Tags: @blindedbythelightt @starset21 @tayl0rhuynh @mamachasesmayhem @marvelogic @itsmytimetoodream @maverick-wingman @kodzukenmaaa @eternalsams @seitmai @nota-professional @jessicab1991 91 @hardballoonlove @senawashere @lafrone @fanficfandomlove ve @withahappyrefrain @dizzybee03 @maisie-rebloging-blog @goldenseresinretriever @a-reader-and-a-writer @sunlightmurdock @shelbycillian @memoriesat30 @accioprocrastination @the-aspiring-fanfic-writer

[icespur]

Thanks to a Discord user, I was reminded of a very special bro's birthday!

July 3rd 1999, Ryuji Sakamoto was born, that makes him 25 today!

[fox-guardian]

please PLEASE we need more of that somewhere else au

hi i've been sitting on this ask for a hot minute cuz i've been trying to think of how events in this world would line up with events in the og timeline. like.

i'm trying to figure out gerry's family situation. because he bonds with this universe's martin over their mommy issues, but his mom couldn't have found and gotten obsessed with a leitner, since they don't exist in this world. so how could she become a killer? well, she does it The Normal Way. no spooky shit, she just kills people for her own purposes.

and what about eric? currently i'm thinking he was left in the dark about her whole Thing because in this world, he didn't have the pre-exposure to weird shit via the institute so he's just. basically clueless the whole time they're together cuz he doesn't wanna invade her privacy too much. especially since she gets so Defensive. until gerry gets born and he gets Concerned that his wife is focusing more on the hobbies he's allowed her to keep to herself than on caring for their own child, so then he confronts her and figures out about the murders, and tries to call the police, and she tries to stop him and in the scuffle she blinds him (that's right baby he Remains Eyeless in this au)

she manages to frame him for the murders and he's locked away for ~13 years ish and she raises gerry in that time, giving him So Many Issues and eventually she just. goes back to the murders. but more subtly. only since there's More Murders In The Area Again the cops catch her and free eric and WHOO GERRY HAS HIS DAD NOW and eric loves him so much. they bond and it's wonderful. (this is obviously where we've branched off from lining up with canon this is The Good Timeline)

gerry grows up with his epic and cool dad who bonds with him via music and shitty hair dye jobs and laments that he can't see his son's cool art but gerry still describes it to him and he's like "oh that sounds so cool. i'd get that tattoo'd" and BOOM. GERRY TATTOO ARTIST DREAMS BEGIN.

he starts at a shop, gets really good, his specialty is stylized horror-related tattoos and portraits. years go by, a new guy comes in and wants to start an apprenticeship, gerry takes him under his wing. dude is pretty good and they keep working together, the guy is really good at writing script so he does a lot of text and stuff, and a lot of line-heavy designs. that guy is Martin.

one day martin informs gerry that he's noticed him being off lately, he gets concerned for his health and eventually after a lot of nagging and a one-man intervention, martin manages to get gerry to a doctor and OH NO, THERE'S A TUMOR IN HIS BRAIN but good news is they caught it in time!! now gerry has a big cool scar on his head and owes martin his life.

and then fellas. Fellas. is it gay to open a tattoo shop with the man who you taught how to tattoo and now you feel is your equal in his own right and also who saved your life because he Knew You That Well.

eric thinks so. and he kept making annoying grins about it that only got worse when gerry told him they'd made it official ("dad please" "I KNEW YOU CRAZY KIDS WOULD MAKE IT WORK" "dad" "when's the wedding" "DAD")

can you tell i've been thinking about gerry and martin a lot.

to bring it back to the "somewhere else" part, OG martin works at a coffee shop trying to get by with OG jon and gerry and eric happen to come in one day, and then another day gerry comes in with martin, Excited To Share With Him The Barista That Looks Uncannily Like Him But Older. and OG martin is, of course, shitting his pants because Oh No This Probably Isn't Good BUT THEN HE LOOKS AT MARTIN. and he's SO mad. this martin looks SO MUCH COOLER THAN HIM. he has GOLD FACIAL PIERCINGS and a SLEEVE TATTOO of ROSES. AND HE DOESN'T LOOK DEPRESSED.

he brings this up to og jon and he's just like ".... did you want to get piercings. i mean you know you'd look cool" and jon is just feeling very 😳👀 about that part but martin is just "WHAT, AND COPY HIM?? I CAN'T DO THAT"

so uh yeah that's uh. that's the most detailed i've got so far. i've got a little bit of jon and sasha and surprisingly little for the stokers. but yeah <3 this got long <3

[chickensarentcheap]

In a Heartbeat- Chapter 6

Fandom: Extraction

PAIRING: TYLER RAKE AND ESME DRUMMOND (ESTABLISHED OFC)

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

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

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

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

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

****

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

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

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

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

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

His little boy watching the entire time.

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

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

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

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

*****

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

And the love of his life.

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

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

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

So he keeps going. For her.

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

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

After all, it’s not just him anymore.

****

“Tyler?”

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

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

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

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

“You wouldn’t be you if you didn’t.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

“It’s what I do best.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Esme?”

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

“Will you do something for me?”

*****

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

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

“Okay…”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Alright.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Really?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

“You have a lot of faith in me.”

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

“Not all men hit.”

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

“What are you scared of?”

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

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

She shakes her head.

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

“Overwhelming.”

He nods.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“What happened when you were thirty-five?”

He stares at her pointedly.

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

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

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

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

“How long did you stay?”

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

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

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

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

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

“You didn’t…”

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

“Where is she now?”

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

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

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

“Do you miss her?”

“No.”

“Do you still love her?”

“I love YOU.”

“You feel nothing for her?”

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

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

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

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

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

“If you could go back…”

“Esme…”

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

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

“And that was a mutual thing or….?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Why wouldn’t I be?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

“She loves you.”

“Don’t start with that. Don’t…”

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

“She wanted to pull the plug.”

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

“You are tough for a little thing.”

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

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

“Are you speaking from experience?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

“And you want to be, yeah? A mom?”

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

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

“Really?”

“You haven’t?”

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

“Excuse you?”

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

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

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

“If they look like their mother, yeah.”

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

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

She noisily clears her throat.

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

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

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

She nods. “Are you?”

“I am now. Thank you.”

“For what?”

“Everything, Just…everything.”

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

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

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

“Now you’re going to make ME cry.”

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

“Says who?”

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

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

“Only if you do.”

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

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

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

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

“Just for you.”

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

“Believe me, neither do I.”

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

And he loves every single one.

****

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

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

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

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

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

“You’ve been busy.”

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

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

“‘Cause that money is yours and…”

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

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

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

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

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

“You’re bossy.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Like…”

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

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

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

“You bake?”

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

“I’m banging a celebrity.”

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

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

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

“Boston Cream pie?”

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

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

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

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

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

“You mean my favourite form of cardio?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Can I choose later?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“She doesn’t even know you.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

And to him, she’s perfect.

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

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

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

“Where are we going to eat?”

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

“What do they think they eat here?”

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

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

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

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

Scowling, he pinches the back of her calf.

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

“You know, you’re lucky you’re cute.”

“It comes in handy.”

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

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