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In a Heartbeat- Chapter 7

Fandom: Extraction

PAIRING: TYLER RAKE AND ESME DRUMMOND (ESTABLISHED OFC. YOU DO NOT NEED TO READ THE OTHER STORIES TO UNDERSTAND THIS ONE)

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: profanity, very brief mentions of spousal abuse and rape

TAGGING: @tragiclyhip @youflickedtooharddamnit @secretaryunpaid @thebejeweledwatercat @munstysmind

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My tag list Is OPEN. Please just ask if you'd like to be added :)

Link to Ao3: https://archiveofourown.org/works/48691714/chapters/141050257

***

Esme lingers on the threshold between the living room and kitchen; perched on the edge of the dining table, a mug of hot chocolate clutched in both hands. Nursing her drink as she watches him sleep; sprawled out on the couch, a lightly snoring Lucy curled up at his feet and two newly acquired chickens snoozing between him and the back of the sofa: his battered, still healing body and his traumatized, haunted mind at rest. Feet peeking out from the bottom of the plaid blanket covering him and the hood of his sweatshirt pulled over his head; those large, strong hands -with their various scars and calluses- folded together and resting on his chest. Worn out from the day and desperately needing a late afternoon nap; pushing himself past the point of exhaustion in his first full day out of the hospital. Attempting to make up for lost time; stubbornly refusing to cut the day short, or even to take short breaks to rest and catch his breath.

She already knows him so well; fully aware of his reluctance to accept his limitations and the worry he harbours that he’s somehow ‘letting her down’. Afraid -despite the months of devotion she’d already shown by remaining by his side in the hospital, that her continued care of her would soon become taxing; burdened by the task of helping nurse him back to health both physically AND mentally. Despising the mere notion of appearing weak in front of her; he’d turned down all suggestions to sit and rest; ignoring the reminders that they had lots of time left together. There was no rush; there were many more hours -days, weeks, months, YEARS- ahead to enjoy the fresh and get ‘out and about’.

The first hour they’d spent wandering the outdoor market; picking out produce and eggs, various baked goods and freshly cut meats. Afterwards, they indulged in a filling lunch at one of the smaller restaurants. Tucked into a booth at the back of the quaint establishment; engaging in small talk interspersed with sexual innuendos and flirtatious comments while sipping lattes and cappuccinos, and sampling various Austrian foods and desserts. Ending the day by finding a home furnishing store and ordering the first items to personalize their house; a bigger fridge, a stove, a mixer for her baking and new pots and pans. Everything she’d need to make cakes, cookies, pies and other desserts. A brand new -and much more comfortable- bed, dressers, a desk and bookshelf.

They’d only returned to the cabin once a list was made of the other ‘wants and needs’; workout equipment, new laptops, a larger TV. Paint for the both master bath and the much smaller, main washroom, cupboards and countertops for the kitchen. While unsure of how long the Gmunden would be home, they’re determined to make their surroundings as cheerful and livable as possible; planning on keeping the place a ‘getaway’ when it was time to move on to something bigger. Whether it be in Australia or one of the half dozen European cities that had made a ‘shortlist’. Prague, Paris, Zurich, Amsterdam, Copenhagen.

She shivers; a chill setting in as the nearby fire begins to die. Setting her mug on the cluttered dining table, she moves towards the fireplace; adding a handful of dry wood and then using the poker to stoke it ‘alive’. She holds her hands out towards the flames, warming both front and back and rubbing vigorously at her upper arms. And when she hears a dull thud and glances over her shoulder; Lucy’s ears immediately perking up, dark eyes widening, head raising out of curiosity. Tyler’s bad leg -brace and all- now hanging over the side of the couch, foot on the floor as he continues to sleep.

Esme pads towards him; carefully picking up his leg and placing it back on the couch. Peeling the throw away from his body, she stretches it out; tucking it tightly around his sides, under both legs and over his feet. And when she attempts to step away, he grabs ahold of her wrist and pulls her closer; fingers gliding over the top of her hand before pushing their way through hers.

His eyes remain closed. Voice -heavy with sleep- resonating deep in his chest. “What’s wrong?”

“Nothing. Everything’s fine.”

“What’re you doing?”

“Babying you.”

Tyler scowls.

“I was making sure you were comfortable. Your bad leg was hanging off the couch; if I left it like that, you’d wake up in a world of hurt. Not to mention your big ass feet were poking out of the blanket. Don’t want you catching a cold.”

“My feet aren’t that big.”

“Your feet are massive, okay. You can house a family of four in each of your shoes.”

“Maybe your feet are just abnormally small. Like the rest of you.”

“You know, you’re lucky you’re cute. Especially when you're sleepy. You’re extra pouty when you’re sleepy.”

“I do NOT pout.”

“You most certainly do.”

He presses the heel of his palm into one eye, followed by the other, then squints up at her. “Everything alright? You okay?”

“Why wouldn’t I be? Did something happen? You have a dream where I got hurt or something? Not one of those Dhaka dreams, was it? Gaspar getting a hold of me and taking me to Asif and…”

“No. Thank god. I don’t want to go through that again. Even if it isn’t real. There was no dream. I guess you’re just beginning to rub off on me. I’m starting to worry all the time now.”

“There’s nothing for you to worry about. I’m fine. Everything’s good.” Leaning over the couch, she presses a chaste kiss to his lips. “Everything’s very good, actually.”

“Yeah…” As a slow grin spreads across his face, he reaches up to loop wayward strands of hair behind her ears. “...it is.”

“Try and get a little more sleep, alright? You overdid it, today. And I don’t want you to be paying the price tomorrow.”

“Something tells me that’s inevitable.”

“You need to know your limitations. And be okay with them. Slow and steady wins the race, right? I don’t want you pushing it and getting hurt. Pace yourself, babe. That’s the only way you’ll get back to a hundred percent.”

“I was never there to begin with.”

“Well, with all the repairing and fine-tuning they did in Dubai, you’ll probably end up being in even better shape than before. But that’s a long way away. And that’s perfectly fine. You know that, right? That you don’t have to rush things.”

“I just want to be who you need me to be. Who you deserve. I just want to make you happy.”

“You know what makes me happy? You taking care of yourself. And letting me help along the way. THAT’S what makes me happy.”

A grin tugs at the corners of his mouth. “Not just me in general?”

“I think that goes without saying. Now…” Pulling the throw up to his chin, she tucks it around his body and then combs her fingers through his hair. Lips warm and soft as they meet his brow. “...you get a little more sleep and I’ll figure something out for dinner.”

“Will it be edible?”

Smirking, she flicks the tip of his nose with her thumb and forefinger. “Fuck you, Tyler.”

Chuckling, he grabs hold of her sweatshirt and pulls her downwards. An arm circling her waist when she loses her balance; giving a small shriek of surprise and then giggling when she lands on top of him. He settles one palm in the middle of her spine and cradles the back of her with the other; fingers pushing through her hair and softly massaging her scalp.

Neither speak again. And she finds herself quickly and easily relaxed by the warmth radiating off his body, the sound of his heart beating within his chest, and the familiar smell that clings to his skin and clothes. She feels content and secure. Adored. Protected. And she basks in the moment. Enjoying the contact; remaining where she is until his breathing slows and softens and his arms fall limp at his sides.

*****

She takes Lucy for her nighttime walk while dinner finishes; soup simmering on the hot plate, a salad waiting in the fridge, garlic loaves keeping warm in the toaster oven. Bundled up in boots and parka, knit beanie and mittens, she trudges through the snow and down to the dock; enjoying the cold, crisp air and the blanket of stars that shimmer within a black velvet sky. She feels free for the first time in a LONG time; able to breathe without the fear of either the past or present breathing down her neck. At last content in her own skin and comfortable and relaxed in her surroundings. Finally able to shed the last of her baggage; the mountains of bad decisions, the trauma left behind from time with an unstable and horrifically abusive man, a child and teenagehood spent walking on eggshells. She had devoted years to driving herself to the brink of both mental and physical exhaustion; weary and worn trying to win the love and respect of the woman who’d given birth to her, but had hated her from the moment she took her first breath.

It seems easier to deal with now. The memories of cruel words and vicious hands, the agony of the wounds inflicted both internally and externally. She has a safe place to fall; someone she trusts with both life and heart. Who wants nothing more than to make her happy and keep her safe, secure, and protected.

Someone who will stop at nothing to make those things a reality.

For once in her life, love doesn’t hurt. It’s patience and it’s sacrifice. It’s caring more about your partner than you do about yourself. It’s feeling happy whenever they’re in the same room as you; enjoying the sound of their voice and laugh, their touch and the taste of their kiss. Never able to get enough of them; the conversations and the feel of their hand in yours. And the way your body not only easily melts into theirs, but is also capable of eagerly and hungrily responding.

They’re halfway back to the cabin when she sees the lights flicker on; followed by the TV and Tyler’s form passing by the living room window as he limps his way into the kitchen. This is her life now. Her home. It’s modest and simple, yet she doesn’t find herself craving more. It’s the most content and comfortable she’s been in a long time; finally ‘seen’ and understood by someone who doesn’t judge her based on her past or things she’d done to make money and survive. Who somehow doesn’t see the mountain of flaws and imperfections that she does. Carving out an existence together; optimistic about both the healing process and their future together.

She’s a foot from the door when her phone vibrates in her jacket pocket. Using her teeth to yank off her mittens, she fishes the cell from its hiding spot; frowning when she sees the name and number plastered across the screen.

It’s become far more than a once-daily experience. Over two dozen texts and voicemails left; ranging from sugary sweet requests for her to call back to annoyed sighs and questions of her whereabouts and her well-being, Culminating in the ranting and raving of a narcissist; attempts at gaslighting, vile name-calling, and threats to ‘track her down and beat her ass’ and ‘drag her back to where she belongs’. And she’s finally had enough; unwillingly to disrupt or sacrifice the peace, comfort, and happiness she’s finally submerged in.

“Hello?”

“So you ARE alive.”

“Is that disappointment in your voice?”

“Don’t start. I didn’t call for THIS.”

“What did you call for, mother? What HAVE you been calling for? Non-stop.”

“You’re my baby. My little girl. My only daughter. Have you ever thought that…”

Esme rolls her eyes. Instead of opening the door, she heads for the battered and weathered loveseat that resides on the porch; sighing heavily as she drops heavily onto it. Lucy dutifully follows behind; lying across her feet, head cocked to the side as she curiously watches her. “Have you been drinking?”

“No, I haven’t been drinking! Why would you…?”

“The only time you ever say anything remotely nice to me is when you’ve got a few in you. How much have you had? If you’re at this level of ass-kissing, it has to be at least a bottle of rye. Or two.”

“Like I told you, I haven’t been drinking. I…”

“You didn’t call to hear my bullshit, and I didn’t answer to hear yours.”

“Okay, so I may have had a couple of glasses of wine with dinner. But…”

“And likely half a dozen for dessert.”

“What is your problem? I call to check up on you and see how you’re doing and this is the treatment I get? For caring about my child? It’s been months since we’ve spoken. Since you’ve even attempted to touch base. I’ve left you all kinds of voicemails and text messages and.…”

“What is your sudden interest in my life? What do you suddenly care about how I’m doing and what I’m doing? If I wanted you to know, I would have talked to you a long time ago. I called you from Dubai. I let you know that I was alive and well, didn’t I?”

“That was almost ten months ago! Almost a full year. Despite what you think, I DO care about you, Esme. I DO love you.”

She gives a derisive snort.

“You were the one that pushed me away. Severed ties. When you decided to up and leave the Marine Corps and abandon your family. You just packed everything up and moved to New York City and…”

“My then-husband put me in the ICU. I left to get away from him. To start a life without him. I…”

“You could have worked things out. Instead of filing for divorce. You could have tried harder. Despite all of his issues and all of his anger, he’s a good man. And he WAS good to you. At times. You just choose to ignore that. If you were just honest with yourself…”

“Being honest with myself would have been knowing to leave YEARS ago. Not waiting until he nearly killed me.”

Her mother scoffs. “It wasn’t THAT bad. But you have always been a tad dramatic. Quite infamous when it comes to exaggeration. Now, I know things got a little…testy…at times, but…”

“A little testy? He used to beat the shit out of me, mom. If he didn’t like the food I made, he’d throw it on the floor, force me down on all fours, and make me eat it. Like I was a fucking animal. ‘Testy’ doesn’t even begin to scratch the surface.”

“I know Mark has his faults. I know he wasn’t perfect, but…”

“He used to rape me. When I’d say ‘no’. I was property to him. Something he owned. He said it was my ‘wifely duty’ to put out for him. And it was his duty to punish me when I didn’t. So yeah, he had his faults, alright.”

“You’re not exactly an easy person to live with, Esme. You’re not some angel yourself.”

“I don’t claim to be perfect. In way, shape, or form. But didn’t deserve any of the things he did to me. You have some hell of a nerve sticking up for him, you know that? Choosing him and his bullshit over your own daughter? But I guess I shouldn’t be surprised. I’ve always been lower than dirt to you.”

“You always have to be the victim, don’t you.”

“I WAS the victim. I was Mark’s, I was yours. But here I am, mom. Thriving. Making a life for myself. Being happy. All those you and Mark tried to kill inside of me? They’re still here. And you’ll never get close enough to hurt me ever again.”

“And just where ARE you making this wonderful, imaginary life for yourself? Where are you…?”

“It’s not imaginary. It’s very much real. And you know, it might not be all sunshine and roses. But it is wonderful. In a lot of ways.”

“Are you with him?”

“I am.”

“So it wasn’t just a passing thing. Like we’d all hoped. When you’d called to say that you’d met someone and were running away with them…”

“I didn’t run away. I didn’t have anything to run away from. I started over. Made a life for myself.”

“You had a life here. A mother, a stepfather, brothers, nieces, nephews…”

“I haven’t bothered with any of you…REALLY bothered with you…in years. I haven’t lived in Colorado in a long time.”

“When you abandoned your husband and your marriage and…”

“I saved myself. You can pretend that Mark is some sort of golden boy; that he’s God's gift to women and has never done anything wrong in his entire life. You can ignore all the evidence that’s been gathered against him; the police and hospital reports, the pictures of all the bumps and bruises and scratches and broken bones. You burying in the sand or up his ass doesn't change the fact that he’s a massive piece of shit.”

“You’re not exactly perfect yourself, Esme. I’ve lived with you. I know what kind of challenge you can be. You’re stubborn and high-strung and confrontational and…”

“And I didn’t deserve a damn thing that man did to me. Look, if you called just annoy the hell out of me, congratulations. You were successful. I’m going to hang up now. Because I don’t have the time or the tolerance for your bullshit. Goodbye, mother. Don’t…”

“Where are you?”

“Somewhere you won’t find me.”

“Are you back in the States?”

“No.”

“Well, I know you didn’t go back to Prague. Kyle showed up at your place a couple of weeks ago; the landlord told him that someone had come for your things and handled what was left on your lease. Paid off the final eight months. In cash.”

“Now you have Kyle doing your dirty work for you? When you say jump, does he ask ‘how high?’? You really will stop at nothing to weasel your way into my life. Stick your nose where it doesn’t belong.”

“You’re my daughter. My child. My…”

“No, mother. I’m a grown adult. Who is minding her own business and building a life for herself. Don’t start pretending to start giving a shit about me. It’s a little too late for that.”

“Am I at least allowed to know where you are?”

“I’m safe. That’s all that matters.”

“With him.”

“He has a name. I know you have this unhinged, bizarre hate towards him, but…”

“He took you away from me. From your family. He’s keeping you god knows where…”

“I’m here willingly. I’m here because I want to be. No one is keeping me under lock and key. Or holding a gun to my head. Why can’t that be enough for you? Knowing that I’m okay. That I’m safe and secure and protected. That I’m happy. Why…?”

“You barely know him. You…”

“Tyler, mom. His name is Tyler. Can’t you show him just that little bit of respect? He saved me. In every way a person CAN be saved. And we’re happy here. With each other. We’re making a life together. And I don’t want you or anyone else ruining that for us.”

“Where exactly is here? Australia? Did you go back there with him?”

“No. Not yet. We’ll get there, though. Eventually. Right now we’re just taking things easy. Lying low. Concentrating on each other. Getting to know one another.”

“And you can’t tell me where all of this is happening?”

“We’re in Europe.”

“Europe is a big place, Esme.”

“‘We’re in Austria.”

“Where in Austria?”

“Bergenz.” The lie rolls easily off her tongue. “A little place right near Lake Constance. It’s nice and quiet. Nothing fancy.”

“I can’t believe you’re doing this. Throwing your life away for some man. You barely know him; you went away on a business trip and ended up someone’s whore. You…”

“I love him. And he loves me. He…”

“You’re in love with what he can give you. How rich IS he?”

“What the hell kind of question is that? I’m not some gold digger, mother. I never have. But for your information, he’s just a regular guy. Strictly blue collar. He’s not a rich man by any stretch of the imagination. At least not when it comes to money, anyway.”

“What kind of blue-collar job puts someone in the hospital for months on end?”

“I already told you. He does private security. A job went south. He got hurt. Badly.”

“And you just somewhat randomly happened to meet him? While doing your own job? You do realize how suspicious that sounds, don’t you?”

“It’s what happened. We ended up in each other’s paths. It’s as simple as that.”

“The whole thing reeks, Esme. Your entire story. How you met him, what he does for a living, what happened to him in some shit hole, third world country. You must realize how lame this all sounds, don’t you? How pathetic? I know you’re hiding something.”

“I told you the basics. You don’t need to know anything else. What goes on between Tyler and me? That’s our business. Not yours. So you’ll just have to learn to accept it; the fact I met someone and I’m not coming home.”

“The hell I do.”

“Look, let’s just end things here, okay? You know I’m alive. You know I’m safe. That’s all that matters.”

“It’s only a matter of time. Before things go bad. It’s how things in your life are. It’s how YOU are.”

“Goodbye, mom.”

“Don’t think you can come crawling back here when he tosses you to the curb. When he finally grows tired of your bullshit and lashes out. Just like Mark did. Don’t you…”

“I said goodbye, mom.”

Ending the call before anything else can be said, she sits with her eyes closed as she attempts to regain her composure. She feels light-headed and nauseous; her chest is impossibly tight, her hands tremble violently as they tightly clutch the phone. And she doesn’t move until Lucy gives a pitiful whine and rests her head on her thigh.

“Everything’s okay,” she assures the dog. Managing a smile, she scratches under Lucy’s chin, strokes her ears and ruffles the fur at the nape of her neck. “I’m fine, sweet girl” Leaning down to place a kiss on the dog’s nose, she laughs when her face is bathed in kisses in response. “Best therapist ever,” she declares and stands. “Now let’s go and get some dinner”

*****

Tyler stands at the counter; briefly glancing over his shoulder when he hears the door open. Greeting her with a smile before returning to the task at hand; removing plates, cups, and cutlery from cupboards and drawers, stirring the pot of soup that simmers on the hot plate.

“I was starting to get worried. Thought maybe a coyote got you. Or that you decided to run away from home.”

“Was that wishful thinking on your part?” she teases, as she toes off her boots and yanks the knit beaning from her head. Smoothing a palm over her hair, then shoving the garment into one of the pockets on her coat. “Were you hoping I disappeared? Or that I ended up some tasty snack for the wildlife?”

“Yeah…right…” He uses a pair of metal tongs to scoop salad onto the empty plates “I can’t believe you’d even ask me that.”

“I have bad news for you, buddy…” Shrugging out of her coat, she places it over his as it hangs on a hook next to the door. “...you can’t get rid of me that easy.”

“Maybe I don’t want to get rid of you at all. Have you ever considered that?”

“Have you ever considered you’re a glutton for punishment? What’s the saying?” Wanders into the living room, she shoves her feet into a pair of Ugg slippers before joining him in the kitchen. “Be careful what you wish for?”

“If spending the next forty, fifty years with you is the worst that could happen to me, I’ll consider myself extremely lucky.”

“Jesus…” Desperately needing that closeness, connection and security that only he can provide, she steps behind him, wrapping her arms around his waist and resting her head against his back. “...maybe your brain injury IS worse than they thought.”

“This is probably the most coherent I’ve been thinking in years.” He gives her the time she needs; alternating between sipping a mug of coffee and repeatedly cleaning the same spot on the counter as she clings to him. Not moving or speaking until she pats her hands against his stomach, squeezes his hips, and steps back. Gulping down his drink before turning to face her. “Everything alright?”

“I finally got up the nerve to answer the phone. I wish I could say I’m pleasantly surprised about how things went…”

“That good, huh?”

“Not nearly as bad as I thought it would be, but still pretty goddamn awful.”

“I’m sorry. I never should have got on you about talking to her. I just thought the sooner you did, the sooner she’d just leave you the fuck alone.”

“It’s not your fault she’s a total cunt. And you were right; I did need to get my head out of my ass and deal with her. She would have just kept calling and leaving voice messages until I finally had a mental breakdown. Which…who knows…could be her end game.”

“What did she want?” Handing her a bowl of salad and a fork, he leans against the counter and digs into his own. “Just checking up on ya? Making sure I’m not holding you hostage? Putting drugs in your food? Forcing you to comply and stay in my…what did she call it…den of iniquity?”

“She’s a crazy bitch. She wanted to know when I was coming home. Colorado hasn’t been home in over a decade. I don’t know why the hell she thought I’d head there. Want to hear the most fucked up part? A total mommy dearest moment? She sent my brother Kyle to Prague. To my apartment. I guess she thought I was bullshitting about where I was. That I was merely locking myself in the house and ignoring everyone.”

“Must have been a hell of a shock when he found your place was empty.”

“Just a bit. I told her we were in Austria; just lying low, taking it easy and recuperating. I didn’t say EXACTLY where, though. The last thing we need is her sending a search party to Gmunden.”

“Isn’t the biggest place. They could probably just ask in town and then track us down.”

“It wouldn’t be too difficult. I mean, a six-foot-three Australian with a bad limp and a resting asshole face doesn’t exactly blend into the crowd.”

“You’re going to have to tell her eventually. The WHOLE truth. Because it WILL get out. Somehow. And not hearing it from you will cause a whole world of trouble.”

“It’s not an easy thing to tell people, you know? Would you want to hear it? That your kid was caught up in black ops? That she was selling people out to mercenaries? That she was making money lying about who she was and using and deceiving people?”

“It would be hard to hear. But, they’re still my kid and…”

“My mother is NOT like us. She doesn’t think the way we do. And she’s hardly a parent. At least she was never one to me.”

“Are you embarrassed? Of the truth?”

“What would I be embarrassed of? And please don’t say you, because that is the furthest thing from the truth.”

“I kill people for money. Or I used to, anyway.”

“We are not getting into that conversation. You know where I stand; how I feel about what you do…what you DID. And you’re not going to change my mind But for the record? No. I’m not embarrassed of you. I have no reason to be. I didn’t do anything wrong: I knew exactly who you were and what you did and I went into things willingly. And I STAY in them willingly. I’m not trying to hide you, Tyler.”

“I never said…”

“I’m trying to protect you. And I know what you’re going to say; you’re a big boy and can take care of yourself and you don’t need little old me doing it for you.”

“You are just putting all kinds of words in my mouth tonight.”

“And I don’t mean PHYSICALLY protect you. I mean, look at me. I’m all of five feet tall and a hundred pounds soaking wet. I wouldn’t do much damage even if I tried.”

“I don’t know, it’s the little ones you usually need to watch out for. They’re cagey fuckers.”

“I’m talking about protecting you…US…from them. I know what my family is like. Especially my mother. She’s already on the warpath; talking all kinds of bullshit and trying to make you sound like some horrible, controlling and abusive person. She finds out the truth? She will make things worse.”

“I don’t give a fuck what she thinks about me. You should know that by now.”

“But I care. It hurts, alright? Hearing her talking about you like that. Because I know who you are. I know what you’ve been through and how you almost didn’t make it out the other side. And because I love you. Who wants to hear mean shit about the person they love?”

“I just think you need to take it with a grain of salt. I don’t want you getting worked up over it. I’m not the only one that’s been through it. In the past ten months. You shouldn't have to go through THIS, too.”

“If I tell her everything, she will make it her mission to tear us apart. She will do whatever she can to come between us. And I know you think I’m brave and strong and…”

“You are. You’re the strongest person I’ve ever known.”

“...maybe I am. Most of the time. But I’m tired. I don’t have it in me to fight right now. I am so tired, Tyler. Is it really so wrong that I can’t do it right now? That I just want a fucking break?”

“No.” Plucking the bowl out of her hand, he sets it on the counter, then gathers her into his arms. Hands continuously running up and down her back as her arms circle his waist and her head rests against him. “It’s not wrong at all.”

“I just want it to be US. At least for a little while.”

“As long as you need it to be, okay? No rush.”

“I just can’t do it. I can’t deal with her. Not right now.”

“You don’t have to. She calls back, I’ll answer. You don’t need to worry about her. I’ll take care of things.”

She looks up at him, tears spilling down her cheeks. “What did I do wrong?”

“What do you mean? What…?”

“To make her hate me like she does. What did I do? To deserve it?”

“You didn’t do a goddamn thing. The way she is? It’s not about you. It’s about her. She’s a bitter, nasty old woman. She’s dead inside. She doesn’t give a fuck about anyone but herself.”

“But she’s only like that with me. She’s never loved me. She never even wanted me. Why? What did I ever do? If she’d just told me, I could have fixed things. I could have been better. I could have…”

“Esme…” Cradling her face in his palms, his thumbs swipe at the tears that glisten on her cheeks. “...it’s not about you. It never has been. You didn’t do anything wrong. And you didn’t deserve it. You still don’t.”

“I’m tired. I am so tired.”

“I know.” He presses a kiss to her brow, then gathers her even tighter into his chest. “It’s time to rest now, okay? You’ve fought enough. You don’t need to do it anymore. I’ve got just enough in me to do it for both of us.”

“I just want it to be us. No one else. Just us.”

“It will be,” he assures her, feeling her body tremble against his as she openly sobs. “There’s nothing for you to worry about. She can’t hurt you anymore. No one can.”

****

“When you were little, what did you want to be when you grew up?”

They lay on the couch; caught up in a mess of naked limbs and tangled blankets. Basking in both the aftermath of their lovemaking and the warmth from the nearby fire.

His knuckles slide along the small of her back. “Where did that come from?”

“I know, totally random.” Esme laughs against the side of his neck. “Not the most romantic of pillow talk, huh?”

“And you say I’m terrible at it.”

“You talk about food and football and how long it’s going to take you to be ready to go again. Whispering sweet nothings is definitely NOT your forte.”

“Sweet nothings? Who are you trying to kid? You’re not into the shit. You like the absolute filth that comes out of my mouth. Don’t even try to deny it.”

“The filthier the better.” Spresses a series of kisses along his jaw, stopping at the corner of his mouth. “I don’t want you to change, though. I kinda like you the way you are. You’re perfect. At least for me, anyway.”

“Are you sure you’re not the one with the brain injury?”

“You’ll never see yourself the way I see you. I’ve relegated myself to that fact.” Rolling onto her stomach, she places her head on his chest. “I think talking to the wicked witch of the midwest brought some things up. About my childhood. And where I ended up compared to where I’d hoped I’d be.”

“Where DID you hope you’d be?”

“Not here, that’s for sure.”

“So but ass naked with a mercenary wasn’t high on your list of dream scenarios, I take it?”

“No. But that certainly turned out extremely well, didn’t it? Of all the things I have no complaints about, you’re at the top of the list. Well, I could do without your snoring and how you leave your dirty clothes in front of the hamper instead of putting them inside…”

“I’m working on it. I’ve lived alone for a long time. I haven’t had to worry about that kind of shit in a while.”

“As far as cohabiting goes, I’ve lived with A LOT worse. And you’re hot, so you tend to get away with a lot more than other mere mortals.”

“Yeah, you’re not hard to look at either. Which is why I don’t get on your case about squeezing the toothpaste tube in the middle. Or how you leave half-empty mugs of tea all over the goddamn place. That’s something I don’t get, actually.”

“What’s that?”

“How you always leave some behind when you make yourself a drink. But if I do it for you, you drink the whole thing. What’s up with that?”

“Because when you make it, it’s perfect. It tastes just right. Way better than when I do it myself.”

“I think that’s all in your head. How different could it be? It’s boiled water and a tea bag. A bit of milk.”

“I can’t explain it, alright. It’s just the way it is. It’s just so much better.”

“You know what I think? I think you’re spoiled. Or you like to be, anyway. All that independent woman stuff? That whole ‘I don’t need any man’ thing? I think deep down it’s all an act. That you like being taken care of. Probably because no one has ever done it.”

“Is that so wrong?” Raising her head from his chest, she smiles as he pushes a hand through her hair. Fingers slipping through the long, dark tresses; calloused tips brushing against the nape of her neck before travelling down the length of her spine. “If I DO like it?”

“Nothing wrong with it at all. I just wish I was better at it. Not really my strength, you know? Taking care of other people.”

“I don’t think you give yourself enough credit.”

“I think you give me too much. That, and my past kind of speaks for itself.”

“You’re not exactly the guy you were back then.”

“Maybe not. But I’m not even the guy I was when I met you. At least not physically. I can’t take care of you and protect you the way I could nine months ago.”

“Nine months ago, you were clinically dead. I think you’re allowed to be a little rusty. Besides, if you had to? If there was some kind of threat? If I was in danger? You’d find a way to protect me. Nothing would stop you. Not even a bad shoulder or a bum leg. It’s one thing I never worry about when I’m with you. If I’m safe or not.”

“I may not have all the right words, and I may not know how to handle things sometimes, but there’s nothing I wouldn’t do for you, Esme. To make you happy. Keep you safe. Even with my fucked up head. And body.”

“You’ve come a long way. In less than a year. And you’re not broken, Tyler. Mentally or physically. A little banged up and dented and tarnished, maybe. But not broken.”

“You have this uncanny ability of always seeing the best in people. Whether anything good exists in them or not.”

“A lot of good exists inside of you. I’ve never doubted that. I’ve always seen it. It was in your eyes; I saw it the second Nik introduced us. You had this kindness in them. This humanity. This sadness. You were carrying around all this baggage and all this pain, but it was still there. You weren’t like anyone I’d ever met on the job. In many ways.”

“Admit it, you were just thankful you didn’t end up having to be pretend married to some ugly, miserable old fuck,”

“Well, you certainly aren’t ugly. Or old.”

Tyler smirks. “You smart ass.”

“Before I met you, I’d never felt protected. Safe. I didn’t even realize I wanted…or needed… to feel those things.”

“I’m just sorry that everyone in your life has been such a fucking disappointment. Especially that dick head ex-husband of yours.”

“Falling for his bullshit was one of the biggest mistakes I’ve ever made. The only thing bigger? Staying with him. I always told myself I’d never be that type of woman; someone who would just roll over and take the abuse and hold onto this faint hope that I could change him. Talk about being a judgy bitch, huh? I never understood why women stuck around. How could they be so weak and pathetic? Why would they just sit back and ‘take it’? And then it happened to me and I realized it wasn’t easy. It wasn’t as simple as just walking away.”

“There’s nothing weak or pathetic about you. I learned that quickly. IN Dhaka. Never mind everything you put up with afterwards.”

“The saddest part of it all is that I started to believe every word that came out of his mouth. That he was the best I could do. I was lucky to have someone like him; he kept a roof over my head, food on the table, and clothes on my back. Even if I didn’t deserve those things. He always called it tough love; the beatings and the verbal abuse helped ‘toughen me up’. I was too sensitive. Too soft. Especially for someone who’d been in the Corps. He used to say I must have ‘slept my way’ through the system.”

“You know, the more you talk about him, the more homicidal I become.”

“As much as I appreciate you wanting to defend my honour and rip him from limb to limb, it’s not why I bring him up. I don’t do it to piss you off; I do it so you’ll know more about me. We didn’t get much time for that kind of thing, you know? We were only in Dhaka for five days and then you were unconscious for half a year after that. We didn’t get much of a chance, did we? To learn about one another.”

“Yeah, we have been sort of thrown to the wolves, haven’t we? Not that I’m complaining. It hasn’t been that bad.”

“Hasn’t been that bad, huh?” She laughs, and tugs playfully at one of his ears. “I know you’re just speaking for yourself when you say that. Because I swear, living with you sometimes…”

Grinning he brings a hand down on her ass in a playful slap, then lightly pinches the supple skin. “Why are you mean to me all the time? Why do you tease me so much?”

“Because it’s fun. And it’s not being mean, I promise, everything I say? I say out of love. And pure animalistic lust.”

“That’s my favourite kind.” His free hand gently gathers up her hair. Moving it away from her face and off her shoulder; palm smoothing down it as it lays on her back. The smile quickly fading, his eyes darkening. “You know it wasn’t your fault, yeah? All the things he said. The things he did. You didn’t deserve any of it.”

“I’m starting to realize that. It’s taking a lot longer than I thought; coming to terms with just how awful he was and what I allowed him to get away with. I thought it would be easier; I’d just be able to put it behind me as soon as I got away from him.”

“You need to stop blaming yourself. You didn’t do anything wrong. It was never about you, Esme. It was always about him.”

“When I finally left, I told myself I’d stay single forever. It just wasn’t worth putting myself out there; having to explain my past and defend the choices I made. And forget about trusting someone; every person I’d ever had any faith in turned out to be nothing but a fucking disappointment. How do you get close to someone after going through all that? How do you ever feel comfortable with anyone again? Let them even get remotely close?”

“Something must have went wrong, huh?” He chides, and tugs on a strand of her hair. ‘Cause here we are.”

“Before you, the only thing I ever knew…or thought I knew…about love was that it hurt. It was painful; physically AND mentally. Everyone I’d loved…who had claimed to love ME...destroyed me.”

“No. They didn’t. Because if you did, we wouldn’t be here right now. Talking about this. You wouldn’t have even looked at me twice, let alone given me a chance. They didn’t destroy you, Esme. They tried. But it didn’t work.”

“Everything changed when you came along. I changed. All those things Mark said to me? About how no one would ever want me? That I was too difficult to love and didn’t deserve to be? It took you less than a week to prove him wrong.”

“Don’t make me out to be some kind of prize, okay? I’ve got my own issues. Maybe not nearly as bad as his, but…”

“You never hid them from me, though. And you never used them to hurt me. You made me feel beautiful. You looked at me like I was the most incredible woman on earth. And that was only four days into things.”

“To me you were, You ARE.”

“You’re not the monster you think you are, Tyler. You’re a good man who has been through some bad shit. Who’s had to do some questionable things out of self-perseverance. And yeah, maybe you have made some bad decisions. But believe me, even with all your baggage? The drinking and the pain meds? You are nowhere near being like Mark.”

“I’m trying. I don’t want to be a mess forever. You deserve better than that.”

“For what it’s worth, you’re not as messy as you were. I think nearly dying had something to do with that; hard to be an alcoholic and a junkie when you’re in a coma for seven months.”

“I think rehab would have been slightly less painful. Than taking a bullet to the throat.”

“How quickly you forget the seven others they pulled from you.”

“Trust me, my body reminds me every day. The only thing I really hate? About how it went down? The fact that you had to see all of that. That you had to see me completely fucked up.”

“It wasn’t your fault. You didn’t know how bad things would go. And yeah, it’s going to stay with me. For quite a while. But I’ll deal. I’ll just take it one day at a time.”

“You know you don’t have to do that alone, yeah? Deal with it?”

Smiling, she presses a chaste kiss to his lips. “I know.”

Gathering up the edges of one of the blankets, she pulls it further up their naked bodies; tucking it under her chin as she once more lays her head upon his shoulder. Her breath is warm and sweet against the side of his neck as his fingers continuously glide up and down her spine; her own tracing the tattoo on his right rib cage and repeatedly combing through his longer strands of hair. He enjoys the closeness in a way he never had before; failing to remember the last time anyone had made him feel that relaxed and comfortable. This beautiful, impossibly tiny woman somehow his refuge. The one person that makes HIM feel safe and secure.

“You never did answer my question.”

He turns his face into hers, lips meeting her brow. “I forgot what it was.”

“When you were a little boy, what did you want to be when you grew up?”

“You mean other than as far away from my old man as possible?”

“What kind of things did you dream about? What did you hope to be doing as an adult?”

“I had a couple of things that were pretty far-fetched. Although when I was little, nothing seemed impossible.”

“What were they?”

“I wanted to be a professional surfer. Or a pro football player.”

“Honestly, I’m not surprised with either of those choices. You wanted to play for the Western Bulldogs, didn’t you.”

“Guilty as charged. They’ve always been my favourite. Which is weird, considering I was born and raised in the East. Once I got a bit older, I started thinking more realistically about things. Decided I wanted to be a firefighter. Or a cop.”

“Really?”

“You sound surprised.”

“I just can’t see you as a cop. I don’t know why. Definitely a firefighter, though. You’d look so hot in turn-out gear.”

“I didn’t think that kind of thing would turn you on. Not with your brother being one..”

“My brother is…I don’t know…my brother. Totally not in the same league as you. How come you never went in that direction? You would have passed all the training; you were athletic, you had the size, the strength. What made you choose the military?”

“My graduating year, they had one of those ‘career days’. You know where people from all different lines of work come and peddle what they do and try to drum up interest. There was a recruiter from the army there and I’m sure you know what they’re like; fatigues, boots all polished, overly cheerful and optimistic.”

“I was offered that job once. When I first joined the Corps. I was told it was a better choice for me; it suited my personality better.”

“What did you tell them? To go fuck themselves?”

“Basically, yeah.”

“I bet you were underestimated right from the day you were born.”

“I’ve always been a study in contraction. People expect meek and mild. I know you did.”

“I did. And man, did I ever find out the hard way. You didn’t waste your time telling me to get fucked.”

“And not in the fun, sexy way, either.”

“Nope. That came a few days later.”

She laughs against the side of his neck, then places a line of kisses along his jaw. “And when it did, it was very fun and very, very, VERY sexy.”

“I have no complaints.”

“So…” Lifting her head from its resting place, she uses two fingertips to clear strands of hair from his brow. “...this recruiter…”

“You’re nothing if not persistent.”

“I like to know things. About you. And I want to know ALL of them. All the things.”

“This guy knew how to sell things. He made it sound so awesome. I’d get to play with guns, learn how to drive a tank, jump out of airplanes. They’d even pay for it if I wanted to further my education; become an engineer or an instructor or just make my way up the food chain and be an officer.”

“Would you have wanted to be one? An officer?”

“I don’t think so. Being out there breaking a sweat and getting my hands dirty was always my thing. The idea of wearing a uniform, sitting behind a desk and getting old and fat doesn’t do it for me, you know? But you know what really sold it? I’d get to see the world. Travel to different places. On their dime.”

“Yeah, even in the States they try hard to sell that side of things.”

“I hadn’t even turned eighteen yet. I was desperate to escape; I wanted to be as far away from my dad as possible and being in the army made the most sense. But I was young and dumb; I never stopped to think that ‘seeing the world’ really meant going into war-torn places; displacing people even more, killing them, even.”

“That’s not ALL you did. You helped more people than you hurt. That’s something I’m sure of.”

“Isn’t helping what hurts them most of the time?”

“It’s easy to see it that way, I guess. Sometimes the road to helping others isn’t a pretty one. And war is ugly; you and I have seen that firsthand. But isn’t it sometimes beautiful, too? When the means lead to an incredible end? When you see just how much you’ve helped someone? How better their life becomes simply because you showed up in it?”

“I don’t know how you do it. See things…people…the way you do.”

“I learned a long time ago that if I didn’t find the good in everything and everyone, I wasn’t going to survive. Not mentally, anyway. I was there too; in the Middle East. And we may not have had the same job and the same responsibilities, but I saw just how awful things were. I heard the horror stories.”

“You of all people didn’t deserve to be there. Going through all that.”

“But I chose it. The poor people that lived there didn’t. And you know what? it’s so much easier to remember the bad stuff. One horrible thing can wipe out a hundred good things.”

“Every so often, that psychology degree of yours comes out to play.”

“It’s less what I learned in school and more I learned OUT of it. Not to mention PTSD is a monster. Sometimes it makes it pretty hard to see the good in anything.”

“Is there you start psychoanalyzing me? Do you charge by the hour or…?”

“It’s just the truth, unfortunately. And you DO have PTSD.”

“I’m not the only one in this room…this bed…that does.”

“Maybe…” (trails a nail along the length of his jaw, over the scar that mars the bottom of his chin). “...but you’re the only one officially diagnosed, so…”

He doesn’t push it; knowing she’s not in the right ‘headspace’ to confront her demons. That choosing to focus on his healing and his battles effectively -for now- silences and numbs her own.

“What about you?” His hand moves through her hair; dark, silky tresses slipping easily through his fingers, palm coming to rest in the middle of her back.

“What about me?”

“What were you like? When you were a little girl? Not that you ever grew… physically…past twelve.” Grinning, he places a kiss on her brow when she laughs. “What did a young Esme dream about? What did she want to be?”

“God, so many different things. I always had these lofty, little girl dreams; wild and crazy things that would never come true. Like marrying a Crown Prince or becoming a famous actress and winning a record number of Oscars. I even used to practice my acceptance speeches in the bathroom mirror. Or I’d write the next great American novel; it would top the charts around the world and I’d win a Pulitzer. I even once thought I’d invent a cure for cancer and win a Nobel.”

“I’m sure a couple of those weren’t too far out of reach. You could find a cure for cancer. Or write a novel. You’re still young.”

“The craziest thing I ever wanted to be? A fighter pilot. A female Maverick from Top Gun.”

“Now that I CAN’T see.”

“Once I realized I needed to concentrate on something a tad more realistic, I switched to teaching and nursing. I would have loved to have gotten into pediatrics. Or taught kindergarten kids. Catch them when they’re still so innocent and curious and so in love with the world and everyone in it.”

“You’d be amazing at both of those. I can see why kids would love you.”

“Why? Because I’m just as small as they are?”

“Well, THAT. But just the way you are. WHO you are. You see the good in the world. Everything you’ve been through…the things you’ve seen and heard and even DONE…you still find beauty in everything. Not to mention you have the patience of a saint, Look how long you’ve stuck around. Put up with my shit.”

“You’re not as difficult as you think you are.”

“But I AM difficult.”

“You have your moments.” She kisses him; signing into his mouth when he tangles his fingers in her hair and pulls her tighter against him.

“You know, you could still do one of those things. Teach or be a nurse. You’ve got a lot of years ahead of you still.”

“I’m going to have to figure out something. I can’t sit on my ass for the rest of my life.”

“It’s not like there’s a rush. We’re not exactly poor. We’re not going to run out of money anytime soon. And if you wanted to go back and work for Nik…”

“No. HELL NO. That ship has long sailed. You’re not the only one that’s retired. You know what I really want to do right now? Until it’s no longer financially possible or we drive each other crazy? Whichever comes first?”

“What’s that?”

“Just…live. With you. And without having to worry about what comes next. “ She once more settles her head on his chest; a hand on his shoulder, thumb continuously brushing against the Roman numeral tattoo that decorates the skin. “Do you want to know what I REALLY wanted to? When I was growing up? Something I still think about from time to time?”

“Of course I want to know.”

“I wanted to own a bookstore.”

“You know for some reason, that makes total sense with you.”

“I kept a journal for the longest time. Completely dedicated to the dream. I’d write down all my ideas, and even sketch things out. I had it all planned out. It would have snow-white walls, but I’d fill the place with tons of colourful furniture and decor and have neighbourhood kids submit artwork I’d frame and hang. And I have dedicated spaces for people to hang out; chess tables, comfy chairs to settle down and read a book in, a courtyard out back if they wanted fresh air. I’d even have drinks and treats. Coffee, tea, and juices, muffins and cookies and sandwiches.”

“Sounds like a pretty awesome place.”

“I’d have a dedicated kids' space; everything in primary colours, a little play area and craft station, a small party room where they could celebrate their birthday. There’d be fish tanks; a couple for turtles, even. And some cages for birds and a few hamsters. And there’d be a bookstore cat.”

“You had all this planned out?”

Esme nods enthusiastically. “I even had the name picked. Do you want to hear it?”

“You should know by now that you don’t need to ask if I want to hear things.”

“I wanted to call it Turn the Page.”

(smiling, he uses two fingers to loop strands of hair behind her ears) “That’s perfect. And you sometimes still think about it? Owning a place like that?”

“Sometimes. We all hold on to some little dream, don’t we? Something from our childhood that can’t seem to let go of?”

“I mean, it’s not like it’s impossible. If it’s something you really want to do…”

“It’s just a little something I like to think about from time to time. That dream of mine got me through some pretty rough shit growing up. I always could escape to it; when my mom was being extra horrible.”

“Would you WANT to do it? Is it something that would make you happy? Having your bookstore?”

“Right now, I have all I need to make me happy. All I want to concentrate on? Is you. Us.”

Pecking his ips, then moves onto her side; her back pressed against the rear cushions of the sofa, face nestled in the crook of his neck, Their eyes closed as his fingers continuously graze up and down her spine and they listen to the crackling of the fire and winter storm raging outside; the howling of the wind and the rattling of the windows and the patter of ice against the glass.

She yawns noisily, then rubs her cheek against him) “I love you, you know.”

“I know. And I love you. More than you’ll ever know.” He drops a kiss on the top of her head. “You make me want to be a better man.”

S raises her head to look at him, tears sparkling in her eyes. “What?”

“You do. I want to be better for you. I want to be the kind of man YOU want. That you can be proud of.”

“I DO want you. And I AM proud of you.”

“But I want it to stay that way. I don’t want to go back to who I was. I want to be better. Do better. Be what you need. And deserve. Hey….” (gives an awkward chuckle when the tears escape, quickly using his fingertips to swipe them off her cheeks) “...don’t do that. Don’t cry. I hate when you cry.”

“I think that’s the most beautiful thing anyone has ever said to me. It’s the best compliment I’ve EVER gotten.”

“It’s all true. It’s the way you make me feel. Not just wanting to BE better, but knowing I can get there.”

She kisses him; long and sweet and sweet; nuzzling her nose against his cheek and his ears and whispering words of adoring and affection that no one has ever bestowed upon him. And she once more tucks herself into his side; tighter than before, wanting, needing, and enjoying the protection only he can provide. Finding herself quickly lulled to sleep by his steady, rhythmic breathing, the stroking of her hair, and the warmth of his skin against hers.

#Tyler and Esme series #Tyler Rake #Tyler Rake fanfic #Tyler Rake fan fiction #Extraction #Extraction 2 #Extraction fanfic #Extraction fan fiction #Tyler Rake x OFC #Esme Drummond #Esme Rake #chris hemsworth

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