#sorry. been pondering this whole debacle constantly lately

[endoftheline72]

Untouchable Ch 3 - Repost for Tumblr

She’d give him another ten minutes. Just ten more, then after that, she would let the panic that she’d been talking herself around for last two hours take control. The light was fading, the wind had doubled in the last half hour and the snow was now falling so heavily that Caitriona had trouble seeing more than a few feet out the window and he still hadn’t returned. Johnathon had left earlier in the day to climb the small mountain in an effort to get signal on the phone and alert the outside world of her whereabouts.

The weather had been reasonably good then and Johnathon had explained it shouldn’t take him more than a few hours. That was four hours ago and Caitriona was really beginning to worry. If anything happened to him what on earth would she do? She could barely hobble more than a few feet, even on the crutches that Johnathon had found tucked away in the attic. If he was hurt out there, she had no way of helping him or of even helping herself. She glanced at the clock. Eight minutes. Flicking the blankets back and mentally bracing herself against the anticipated pain, she slowly lifted her leg, swinging it over the edge of the bed and fumbling for the crutches. She sucked in a breath as her foot hung down towards the floor, the blood throbbing painfully to the joint. “Breathe.” She murmured, her mind recalling the gentle instruction Johnathon had quietly spoken to her earlier that day when he’d wrapped her ankle again, “Just breathe.” If she concentrated hard enough, she could almost hear him, the deep timbre of his voice, soft patience in his clear blue eyes, the warmth of his hand on her arm as he’d knelt before her, waiting with her for the pain to pass. Now, like then, the pain began to ease with each breath, at least to the point where it no longer left red streaks darting behind her eyelids.

Six minutes. Shaking hands gripped the crutches and Caitriona awkwardly hauled herself unsteadily to her feet. Breathe. After every small step she was forced to stop, wait for the pain to ease, then take another wobbly, off balance step. It took every bit of concentration she had not to topple over. Fortunately, concentration seemed to take priority over panic, every step helping her to calm herself. Three more steps and she’d be level with the kitchen bench. Step and breathe. Four minutes. She was almost there when she heard them. The distinctly heavy thud of boots on the front porch. The door pushed inwards bringing with it a gust of frozen air and the snow dusted blond head of Johnathon. Worried blue eyes met his, taking in his tall, solid form. “Thank God.” She said on a long breath as her eyes slid closed. The relief of seeing him, alive and in one piece, flooded through her, hands shaking as the crutches absently clanked to the floor. In an instant he seemed to be beside her, a strong arm wrapping around her waist, holding her steady, “Think you better sit down before you fall down.” His deep voice was calm and flowed like honey into her mind, smoothing the sharp edges of nervous worry that had been grating on her for what seemed like hours. Caitriona gave up trying to speak and instead mutely nodded, laying an arm across his coat covered shoulders, leaning into him, letting him half carry her as together, they hobbled towards the couch. Johnathon slowly lowered Caitriona into the seat, “Foot up.” He bent, chilled fingers gently gripped the back of her leg, causing her muscles to tense slightly. “Sorry.” He lifted her ankle, resting it on a cushion and reaching for one of the folded blankets, holding one edge, flicking it open then tucking the edges of the blanket around her legs, “Better?” He asked quietly sitting back on his haunches, blue eyes searching hers.

She nodded, “What happened Johnathon?” Her voice was slightly uneven, still coloured with equal measures of concern and relief, “I thought you were only going to be a few hours. It was getting dark, the weather was getting worse and I didn’t know what was going on.” It came out faster than she wanted it to. She took a breath in an effort to stop the cascade of what she was sure must sound like inane babble, tumbling from her mouth. “You could have been hurt and I would have been useless to help.” She dropped her gaze, hating herself for sounding like an irrational fool, staring at an errant crease in the blanket instead. He was little more than a stranger, there was nothing between them and yet the utter relief of seeing him safe had made her crumble like a deck of cards. Just one more log on the emotional fire of confusion that seemed to be constantly raging inside her mind lately. She lifted an unsteady hand and brushed the hair back from her forehead, “I'm the one who should be sorry. This is the last thing I’m sure you need to be dealing with after hiking through a storm to send my stupid messages.”

“It’s alright.” He offered her a soft smile, “The storm last night caused a lot of timber fall on the trail. It took me longer than I thought to get up there.” He dug into his coat pocket and retrieved the phone, “All the messages sent though and,” He shot her a lopsided grin, “Once I got decent signal up there, the phone wouldn’t stop buzzing and ringing.” He passed the offending object over, “Seems you were most certainly missed. A couple of calls came in while I was speaking with the local police. They went to voicemail, so you’ll have to wait until we get signal tomorrow to hear them.” “Tomorrow?” She looked up at him as he stood up and shucked out of the coat, looping it over his arm. “Tomorrow. Apparently the road is opened closer to town, but they are expecting heavy snowfall to arrive sometime in the next two days.” He perched himself on the coffee table beside her resting foot and began untying his laced boots, “We’ll head for town as soon as it’s light tomorrow.” Johnathon pulled one foot free with a slight grunt, “See if we can’t get out of here before the next storm comes through." A second boot joined its mate, "Sound okay?" “Can we get through after the weather today?” Caitriona glanced towards the now dark window, the wind blowing the occasional white flake against its clear surface. “We’ll give it go. Might be slow going, but worth a try.” Johnathon said standing ,tossing the boots in a reckless pile beside the log basket, “But in the meantime, I’m going to have a hot shower and get dry clothes,” He started walking towards the bathroom, untucking his shirt on his way, “You have a few texts there that you might want to look at.” Then he was gone, the bathroom door clicking shut, an empty silence settling over the room.

Tomorrow. She would have to face up to all of this for real tomorrow. No more thinking, no more pondering and considering. It would all come rushing back in full force. Tomorrow. Sam, Tony, production, the whole outfit. If her ankle was broken that would push filming back. She still had a four week break left of the hiatus but if recovery was to take longer than that, an expensive delay would be inevitable. All the crew who depended on the show for a job would be forced to wait, not to mention the stress a delay of wages would mean to them. Production and crew would be pissed off at her and rightfully so. Going on a road trip because she was upset wasn’t exactly the smartest idea she’d ever had. It ranked right up with there with deciding to go to Sam Heughan’s room after witnessing your significant other entertaining two guests privately in your own hotel room.

Caitriona glanced at the phone in her hand, wondering if either of them had anything more to say about that whole debacle. She swiped a finger across the screen, unlocking it and looking at the message folder. “Oh holy Christ!” She cursed aloud. A few messages? She shot a dark look at the closed bathroom door. Johnathon Chase, the lord of the understatement. There were precisely 84 unread messages and ten voicemail notifications. She decided on production as her first target. They were organising transport of her family and retrieval of the car, along with a medical specialist that she would be required to visit in New York. Depending upon what their diagnosis was, she was scheduled to fly out back to Glasgow as soon as possible to begin costuming for the upcoming season. That got rid of 14 of the 84 messages. So far, nothing too bad.

Her family was next. There were three messages from her mother and father, which in itself was fairly novel. Both parents steadfastly refusing to text, claiming that if they wanted to talk to someone they would call them up or go and see them. They were preparing to fly out from Ireland when these messages were sent, which would mean that by now they would be well and truly on their way. Her parents would, according to several of the messages be accompanied, by her eldest sister, Sarah, who had also recruited another sister, Deidra, currently working in New York. The plan, as far as Caitriona could decipher from the mixture of message senders, was for her family to unite in New York and then travel to her. That cleared out another 15 messages. Maybe things wouldn't be as bad as she thought.

On the other hand, she sighed loudly, recognising the next number in the line of messages as Tony’s. Mentally bracing herself, she opened the texts. All of messages, just seven of them, centred around a common thread, that being Tony attempting to explain what she’d seen in that Seattle hotel. First, it was under the guise of a misunderstanding, then as a mistake on his part, and finally, landing the blame squarely on her own shoulders. He’d done it, according to this theory, because she had been busy and distant towards him. Busy, yes. She agreed with that whole heartedly. It was part of the job, part of her responsibility as the star of this contraption. She did take exception to the insinuation that they had become distant. 'Become distant' implied that they had, at some point, been something other than that. As far as she had been able to tell, things were exactly the same as they had always been. They hadn't become that way, they always were that way. Point and case was before her very eyes. She had left furious, fallen off the grid with no contact and the best he could do was offer justification? There was no are you alright Caitriona, or anything resembling something along the lines of I’m glad you’re okay. Just avoidance and blame. She deleted the messages from the phone as she read them, wishing her mind was similarly configured. She could press a button on a phone and the words disappeared, lost forever into the emptiness of cyberspace ether, never to see the light of day again. Her conscience however, didn't possess such a button and left to its own devices, in the quiet stillness of the room, fueled by guilt, guided by regret and driven by uncertainty, it tended to think in circles. Maybe she was reading too much into this. After all, she tried to reason with herself, things had been going okay before that night in the hotel. If the relationship was really as toxic and unfulfilling as she was more recently considering, wouldn’t she have detected it before? She didn’t like to think she was that stupid and oblivious, but right now, in this moment, she wasn’t so sure. Had the signs been there this whole time? Had she, in an effort to not repeat LA, fallen headlong into something that was just as bad? Circle complete. It was maddening to her. She scowled and shook her head, hoping to physically dislodge the uncomfortable thoughts from her mind. It didn't work, instead her mind made another connection as her eyes read the number of the next sender. Sam. 51 messages. Most of the messages contained some variation of him professing his feelings for her, several, in quite graphic details that left her face warmed with embarrassment and her quickly pressing the delete button. Some were trying to convince her that their professional relationship didn’t have to change even if their private one happened to. A moot point, she argued with herself. Things had already changed because of it. She couldn’t even begin to process how awkward work would be right now. It was one of the main reason’s she stopped him and was determined to not go there. She was being professional. This was her shot. Maybe her only shot at this business and she had no intention of screwing it up with an off set relationship. Caitriona needed Sam to be able to do this job well. Needed the actor, not the man. Things may well be difficult now, but a relationship that went bad with her on screen lover would be a show ending, possibly career killing mistake. She knew it, even if Sam thought otherwise. She had to be the adult, even if Sam wasn't.

Life wasn’t meant to be easy, but no one ever warned her it would be one shit storm after another. Worse, no one ever told her about the way this would make her feel. Like she was failing at everything and everyone. She hated it. Hated doubting herself and hated that feeling of uncertain dependence most of all. She'd tried to be independent her entire life. She'd left home early, left the shelter of her family, needing to do things her own way. She'd been successful at it as a model. Caitriona hadn't expected that to change when she'd left that insipid lifestyle behind, taking a chance on acting. But it had changed. She gone from entirely independent and in control of almost everything, to relying on Sam for her job, relying Tony for her plus one at events and now, even relying on a practical stranger in Johnathon Chase, to get her back on her feet. Dependent and helpless to control anything right now. She couldn’t even walk ten steps on her own for Christ’s sake.

Caitriona ran a frustrated hand through her hair and tossed the phone on the table, letting her head fall back against the chair. Her mind was about to continue its frustrating contemplation of her situation and life in general, when a mark on a sheet of paper caught her eye. It was laying on the table, beside the phone she’d angrily tossed there moments ago, the silver of a set of car keys stark against the white background. A neat black script, indicating her name decorated the top of the paper. Her dark brows drew together as she sat up and reached for it.

Caitriona, the letter read, Here are the keys to the ute and a map with the road marked that will get you to town. The red circle is the section of the road where you’ll get signal for the GPS and the ute's two-way radio signal to call for help. It’s a about ten miles from the cabin but it should be doable once the snow stops enough to be able to see where you’re going. There is spare water and food in the ute and plenty of blankets. Don’t worry about me or anything else, wait for the weather to clear and get yourself back to your family. I know you can do this if you have to and if something happens, just stop, breathe and wait for the pain to pass. It always does.

Johnathon

P.S. Pro tip: Stay clear of sharp corners and icy lakes.

She glanced at the bathroom door and smiled, shaking her head at his smart ass post script and sniffling back a tear. 'I know you can do this if you have to' , he had written. The context between his thought and her situation was slightly different, she recognised that but....

She took a deep clearing breath and let it out.

Stranger or not, Caitriona hoped Johnathon Chase was right.

Could she do this?

Tomorrow she would find out.

Also on AO3

http://archiveofourown.org/works/10919163/chapters/24903501