August Walker has been haunting my mind, asking for a redemption story. I need him to be allowed to be the good guy. So. Here you go. It’s a little bit AU, a little bit canon, a little bit pure self indulgence.
A one night stand turns into much more that August Walker ever let himself want.
August Walker x Plus sized OFC (Cassie)
Warnings: Sad goodbyes, Violence, injury, attempted suicide, guns
Author’s notes: Wow, with warnings like that... who would want to read this??? I feel the need to mention that I used the helicopter scene from MI - obviously, I don't own it, I didn’t create it, I’m just using it as a vehicle for my plot. So. Yeah.
A huge thank you to everyone that has given this little story of mine so much love and support. You guys have no idea how much my icy heart has melted. Thank you, thank you, thank you from the bottom of my soul. The response to this, I cant even put into words how much I love you all. I’m a little sad to say goodbye to August and Cassie - but I’ve got some other stuff planned so. Maybe that will be fun.
THANK YOU to the amazing @amandalove for proofreading and letting me bounce my never ending list (of shit that doesn’t need to be part of this story but will end up being part of this story) off you. You are the best!
Thank you to @luna-aestas for the moodboards that went with this story. I love them almost as much as I love you!
As always, please let me know if you want on or off my tag list by a DM or ask :)
Y’all, I don’t own shit. August, MI, anything. I own nothing. I’m just playing.
Part One ~ Part Two ~ Part Three ~ Part Four ~ Part Five ~ Part Six ~ Part Seven ~ Part Eight ~ Part Nine ~ Part Ten
Life went on. We’d opened the bakery, and after many lessons from August, I was actually getting pretty good at baking. We’d named it The Burnt Biscuit, a nod to my penchant to forget things in the oven. It was a hit in town, and the diner, hospital and school all bought in bulk from us. I always expected that had to do with who owned it, though our biscuits and dinner rolls were to die for.
Time passed quicker than we realized. Pom was growing like a weed. At a few months past two, she was a little chatterbox and kept me going all day long. She lit up the world of everyone who knew her, but especially her father. Their bond made me tear up regularly, watching how he was with her and how much she understood him. She knew exactly what to do to get him to open up, and also knew how to get what she wanted from him.
One rare afternoon when we were all home, August having been away more than he normally had been since Pom had been born. She was running across the living room and tripped over poor King’s leg. The old dog had tried to get out of her way, but he was too slow.
Sprawling out across the floor, she let out a wail. Before I had even registered that she fell, August was with her, scooping her up and holding her little crying form to his chest. She quieted down after she had shoved her little hand into the neck of his shirt. His chest hair was like her security blanket. Whenever he’d come home from a trip, it was the first thing she’d do, shove her hand down his shirt and snuggle into his neck.
“Did you hurt yourself, Duchess?” he asked as he rocked her.
“Ya, dadda,” she mumbled miserably into his neck.
“Where does it hurt, baby?”
“Wite hea.” She pointed at her knee. “My toe.”
“Oh, no. Your toe? Can I kiss it? Will that make it better?”
Flipping her upside down and pulling a delighted screech out of her, he kissed from her little chubby toes to her knee and back.
“Again!” She squealed as he obliged.
“Betta. Down. King need kiss.” She pushed at his chest until he let her down.
She went over and plopped on the floor next to the dog, who gave her a little lick on her cheek as if to say, no hard feelings. She wrapped her little arms around his neck and kissed his nose.
“Love you, King.”
“Crisis averted?” I asked from the doorway.
“For now,” he muttered, coming over to me and wrapping his arms around my waist, pulling me close. “We need to talk.”
I looked into his eyes, searching for the meaning of the comment. He had that look. The worried, his mind was far away from here, look.
I put on a movie for Pom and we went into the kitchen. He leaned against the counter, pulling me against his chest.
“I need to leave for a while. I don’t know how long. I’m not sure when I’ll be back. It’s time.” He paused, looking at me.
Leaning my head against his chest, I fought back the tears, because I knew where this was going.
“Princess… I don’t know how this is going to pan out. I’ve planned for all the variables, and the variables of the variables, but this could go bad. I may not come back from this,” he whispered quietly, confirming my fears that this was it. It was happening.
“Why does it have to be you?” I sighed. “I know it has to be. You’ve told me that before, but would it really matter if you just didn’t show up?”
He didn’t answer, just held me tighter.
“But it could all go right, and then you’ll be home? We can live a normal life, together as a family?”
“Yes, Sweetheart. If this all goes to plan, we’ll be free. We’ll have peace. I’ll be able to get up at three in the morning to go make the bread everyday. It sounds too good to be true.”
“It sucks getting up that early. Maybe we could pay someone else to do that part and we can sleep in,” I joked.
He laughed and held me even tighter, as if I was the only thing keeping him tethered to the earth. I held him back.
That evening, we made the most of being together. We sat on the couch with a fire going and we just spent time as a family. Even the normally boisterous Pom was subdued. It’s like she knew, and she spent the whole evening with her hand down the neck of his shirt, snuggled close, eventually falling asleep against him.
In the early morning hours, he kissed my forehead, lingering and whispering ‘I love you’. He thought I was sleeping. As if I could sleep. I let him go without a word, not wanting to make it harder on him. Besides, we had said everything we needed to the night before, with our mouths and our bodies. I couldn’t express anymore how much I loved him.
I’d fought with myself all night. I had planned on telling him that I was pregnant again, but I didn’t want him to have one more thing weighing on him right now. He needed to be able to think clearly to get through this and get home to us in one piece. If god forbid he didn’t, it was probably better if he didn’t know.
I listened to him go down the hall, watching him on the baby monitor as he gently lifted a sleeping Pom out of her bed, sitting on the edge and holding her for several minutes, rocking her. My heart was torn to shreds watching him.
This man was made for this. For our family. Everything that he’s gone through leading up to this has shaped him and made him the man he is, in spite of it all. Imagine what he would have been like if this had never happened. If he hadn’t gotten lost. No. Because then he wouldn’t be My August. He wouldn’t be the same.
I heard his truck grumble to life and pull away. The tears had already started, but I curled into a ball and let the wracking sobs take over me.
Trying not to think about Cassie or Pom, he watched with a sickening horror at what he had helped come to pass. What would have happened if Cassie hadn’t literally stumbled into his arms. Praying that Lane wouldn’t see through him, since the plan had almost gone awry in Paris. He had managed to make it work. He had needed to get him to Kashmir to end it. It had to begin before he could stop it. He’d known that all along.
Thankfully he had carefully placed safeguards.
Standing in a dark room at the medical camp, August looked around. The Apostles were all gathered, ready for the detonation. Lane was putting in the plutonium and connecting the bombs together. The machine accepted the core, not being programmed to realize that it was a fake.
August let out a held breath.
“August. I want you to take the detonator. Take the helicopters. No one else leaves. You will continue the mission. This is only the beginning.” Lane smiled, handing him the key.
August nodded, thankful that he had told Sloane where the real cores were hidden before they had met with Hunt at the air strip.
“Set the timer, then go. Fifteen minutes should allow you to get far enough away. Go.” Lane dismissed him.
Taking a deep breath as he walked across the field to the waiting helicopters, August set the timer. For this to work, Hunt and his team needed to believe that it was real. That those bombs were really going to go off. They would think they disarmed them, find Lane and arrest the rest of the Apostles. He could disappear after the planned helicopter crash. It would work. The deal with Sloane had been if he could pull this off, he’d be a ghost. August Walker would never have been.
Pulling his phone out of his pocket, he unlocked the code sensitive folder and looked at the pictures of his daughter and the woman who had changed his life. He was doing this for them. He had never loved anyone or anything with this much passion in all his life. He would make the world safe for them.
Suddenly, the chopper swerved to the side. The other had dropped it’s payload, almost taking them out. Hanging out the door, August looked up, dread filling his stomach as they leveled with the other chopper and he saw Hunt.
No! Fuck! This is not how it's supposed to happen. God damn it! He was supposed to be taking down Lane! Why can’t you just do what you’re supposed to for once in your fucking life, Hunt. God damn it.
Shooting at him, but trying to not actually blow up the chopper, just to disarm it, took skill. August held the massive gun as steadily as he could. Having struck the chopper, it sank into the clouds. Breathing a sigh of relief, his eyes widened in panic as he saw the chopper emerge, heading directly towards them.
Yelling to the pilot, he tried to get him to pull up. He tried to shoot the propellers again, but couldn't get a clear shot with Hunt weaving dangerously behind them. He narrowed his eye, zeroing in on the spot, pulling the trigger. Nothing. He was out of ammo. Falling back into the seat, he stared at the gun.
He only had minutes before Lane figured out that he had betrayed him. If Lane managed to escape, he would never be able to stop running, if he even managed to make it out of this alive. His family would never be safe.
The pilot barely cleared the top of a ridge and suddenly they were rammed from behind. Pulling his seatbelt as tight as he could, August gripped the handle on the side and prepared for the inevitable crash. Spinning out of control, they landed hard on the snow packed mountain. Just as he thought they had stopped, and the world stood still, they began rolling down the mountainside. August watched as the pilot flew out and was crushed under the weight of the rolling machine.
Suddenly, they hit something hard and flew off the side of the mountain. Metal scraping rock was deafening as they slid straight down the side, slamming to a stop, wedged into a crevice. Hunt’s chopper crashed into them, loosening a hose that spewed hot liquid at him.
Screaming in pain, August tried to shield his eyes from the burning hot sting that was pouring onto his upper body. Dodging out of his seat, he fell, grasping what he could to keep from falling out of the gaping hole that was the back of the chopper. As he hung there, he looked up just in time to see Hunt come falling directly onto him. Hunt grappled with him, trying to get the detonator.
The force of Hunt’s fall, and his subsequent wrestling for the key, caused the chopper to fall the rest of the way down to a ledge. Rolling across the ledge, they both fell out of the window as the chopper spun off the side of the mountain, being held by a wire. Laying on the ground, the pain almost unbearable, August brought a shaking hand to his face, feeling the blistered and mottled skin where a functioning ear used to be. Standing, he looked around.
I wonder if Cassie would have gone home with me if she had met me like this?
He laughed to himself at the irony. He’d saved the world. Because of his love for a woman, but still. He’d done it. Yet, they still thought him the bad guy. True, he had started this, but he also ended it. If Hunt’s incompetent team managed one thing, he prayed that they had caught Lane. As long as he was stopped, August knew his family would be safe. With or without him.
Hunt was limping towards him, a look of pure hatred in his eyes. August started walking towards him, holding out the detonator.
“Hunt, you have to listen-” Hunt cut him off by charging at him, catching August around the middle and slamming him into the hard rock surface.
August hit him back, knocking him off of him, scrambling to his knees as he took the detonator out and pulled the key.
“They’re fakes, you fucking moron! You were supposed to get Lane!” August yelled, slightly reveling in the confusion on the master spy’s face. “Who the fuck is going after Lane?”
“W-What? What do you mean? Fakes?” Hunt was on his knees, breathing heavily. He gestured wildly at the remains of the chopper. “Then what the hell was all this about?”
August looked at him in disgust. He turned from him, pacing. How was he going to stop Lane if they didn’t get him?
“It was to throw Lane and the Apostles off my track. I’m a double agent, you jackass. Sloane knows all about it. I was supposed to die in a helicopter crash. Or they were supposed to think I did. The real cores are hidden. Bricked into a wall in the underground. I switched them out after you left them, before the others reached me. The cores in the bombs are fakes. I delivered them myself. It was all planned. Yet you can’t just fucking do what you’re supposed to, can you Hunt? You had to save the day and get the bad guy.”
“But, you rescued Lane…” Realization was dawning in his eyes.
“You see now? I had to make them think I was still one of them, for this to work. The plans were going to happen with or without me. I had to make sure that they thought I was one of them. I’ve been in deep cover for years. They had to believe without a doubt that I had the plutonium. I had to ensure that I was the one to be given the task of carrying on after the rest of them were killed in the blast. It was the only way to end it, Hunt.”
“Why? Why would you suddenly change? You’re one of them.” Hunt stared at him, trying to understand. “You expect me to believe that you’ve always been a double agent?”
Letting out a harsh laugh, August turned, looking out over the mountains surrounding them.
“Have you figured it out yet? Why Lane chose this place? Why he wanted to start it here? Think about it, Hunt. In what way could Lane have guaranteed that he hurt you the most, that if you had lived would have haunted you until your dying days?”
“Julia.” A look of horror crossed his face.
“You’re not the only one who loves someone.”
“YOU’RE. NOT. THE. ONLY. ONE!” August screamed, throwing the detonator on the ground.
“Your dossier didn't mention anyone… Why should I believe you?” Hunt asked, though he didn’t sound as suspicious anymore.
“Think back, just under three years ago. Remember that club in Paris, when we were trying to find Lark, and it turned out to be some small arms dealer that couldn't wait to turn witness on everyone, including his grandmother when we found him blowing coke in that bathroom?”
“The girl on the floor… You said you had to take care of something. Was she there for you?”
“No. I saved her that night. Or she saved me,” he growled in frustration. “I don’t know why I ever thought I could get away from this. Why I could ever deserve peace.”
“It’s the job, Walker. None of us get peace.”
“I don’t want it anymore.” He turned angrily from Hunt, hands on his hips, looking over the edge. “We have a child, Hunt.”
“A child. A girl. A beautiful, perfect, amazing girl. She’s everything I’m not. She’s peace. And I promised to save the world for her, and for her mother. To be their white knight,” he murmured.
Hunt was silent as he looked out into the cold horizon. August didn't see how he would get away if they didn’t manage to get Lane and the rest. He had to end it, so that Cassie and Pom would be safe. No one could know.
“No one can know about them, Hunt. No one, do you understand?” August turned, gripping his jacket desperately. “No one.”
Turning away from Hunt, August walked the edge of the cliff, his boots sending pebbles falling into the foggy abyss below. Turning to look at Hunt, August asked for confirmation one more time that he would tell no one.
“Not a soul,” Hunt assured him.
“Please don’t go looking for them. It’s better they don’t know.” Closing his eyes, August leaned forward, feeling the wind whip against his wounded face as he began falling.
Thoughts of Cassie, smiling and laughing with flour all over her face, hearing Pom’s heartbeat that first time, laying in bed with his girls cuddled up next to him, ran through his mind. They would be safe. He made the world a better place for them. He’d left them taken care of, the cabin was paid for and they would never want for money. Parker would watch after them. If Hunt would just keep his promise, they had a chance.
His head snapped back as Hunt grabbed his jacket, yanking him back onto the hard rock. They tumbled down the snow covered surface, coming to a halt against a large boulder.
“Do you think that little girl has a fighting chance without you?” Hunt pushed August off him, anger radiating through him as he stood, yelling down at August. “Do you think that your wife will be able to stop them if they come? If they figure it out? Do you think that Lane is the only one? You cut off one head and another grows in its place. In all your years doing this, haven’t you learned that?”
August was gasping for breath, his heart pounding after realizing that it would live to beat another day. Laying in the snow, he was terrified of the thought of what could happen if someone did show up and he wasn't there.
“This is what we're going to do,” Hunt said quickly, the sound of rescue choppers in the distance.
Standing in the kitchen, I heard a car coming into the drive. Quickly, I grabbed Pom from her perch at the table, ignoring her protests about her chicken nuggets. Opening the safe room, I put her on the cot and called King to sit with her. I shut them in.
Grabbing my phone I texted Parker.
Pom is in the safe room. Unknown car.
Going to the front door, I watched as a short man jumped out of the driver's seat and came up the steps. I pressed my finger to the hidden panel and took the handgun out of it’s holder just as he knocked. He stood, looking around at the house, his face impressed. His face had caked blood near his ear, his clothes torn.
Cracking the door as much as the chain would allow, I looked at him.
“Mrs. Walker?” He asked politely.
I nodded, the gun resting against my thigh.
“I have your husband in the car. He’s been injured and he didn’t want your daughter-” I threw the door open, the gun pointed at his head. His eyes widened in surprise.
“Who are you?” I asked, leveling the gun between his eyes. “Where is my husband?”
The passenger side door opened and I saw his frame unfold in the darkness.
“Princess, it’s alright,” he called, limping closer.
Giving the man one last look, I ran out into the snow. Grabbing August, I looked into his face. Angry, mottled skin covered the whole right side of his beautiful face. His eyes were wary, watching how I’d react. Reaching out to him, my fingers ghosted over the area.
“August. You came back. You made it back.” My voice was strangled in my throat, tears threatening to fall.
I kissed the side of his face that wasn’t burnt, his arms pulling me tight to his chest.
“I didn’t think you were coming back,” I sobbed.
“I’m here.” He shushed me gently. “I’m here, Princess. It’s over.”
“It’s over?” I asked, not believing it.
I sobbed into his chest, the stress and fear of the last three years catching up with me.
“Oh my god, Pom. She’s in the safe room,” I gasped, rushing back into the house.
“Maybe I was wrong about not her being able to handle it without you, Walker,” the man muttered as I dashed past him.
“Cassie, I didn’t want to scare her,” August called after me, coming in the front door with the man behind him.
I opened the door and grabbed Pom from the cot, King following us back into the kitchen.
“She’s your daughter. She loves you. So what if you have a scar?” I brushed it off.
Standing in the shadow of the front entryway, August was hesitant to come forward. He couldn’t take it if she was scared of him. I put Pom down and pointed to the hallway.
“Dadda’s home, baby. Go say hi. Be careful. He has a booboo.”
Pom looked down the hall and saw him standing there and shrieked with delight. She’d missed him while he’d been gone, asking for him often.
“Dadda!” she cried, running over to him.
She stopped in front of him, her arms outstretched. He gingerly leaned down and scooped her up. She sat in his arms, looking at his face. Her little fingers touched his forehead, just to the side of his burn. He closed his eyes.
“Dadda got a booboo?”
“Yeah, baby. Dadda’s got a booboo.”
A choked sound came out of his throat as he held her close to him. She ran her hand over his hair, kissing his forehead.
“It ok, dadda. It all better. You ok. Love you, dadda.”
“I love you, too, Duchess. Dadda loves you, too.”
He held his arm out to me and I joined them, the three of us held in an embrace, ignoring our guest. He gave us our privacy and went into the living room where King stood and stared him down.
“I love you two so much,” he whispered, holding us tight.
“Love you,” Pom replied.
“I love you,” I said against his chest. “But it’s three.”
“What?” he asked.
Tears of joy leaked from his good eye. He kissed me, Pom squawking in protest.
Eventually, we remembered the man in the other room. August introduced me to him as Agent Hunt. He was going to make sure August was wiped clean from all government databases.
“So, Agent Hunt, you’re telling me that we aren’t going to exist? How does that work? We’re still here. Oh my god, do we need to move and have fake names?”
“No, Mrs. Walker, not at all.” He smiled at Pom and King playing on the floor. “My tech person will make sure that any trace of August Walker, the agent, is gone. But we’re going to add August and Cassie Walker, high school sweethearts, born, raised, and raising their own family in the small mountain town they’ve never left, to the database. So you will exist. Just not the old you. Anything that he was part of before will have been done by agent Albert Walter. And half of that will be redacted.”
“Will this work?” I asked August as I dabbed salve onto his wounds.
He shrugged, wincing.
“It can’t hurt.”
“I promise you, Mrs. Walker. All the safeguards are going to be put into place.”
After the man left, and I’d put Pom to bed, we were in our room, sitting on the couch by the window.
“Thank you,” I murmured, brushing his hair away from the gooped up salve on his wound.
“For what, Princess.”
“Coming back. Being my knight in shining armor. Being you.”
“I love you, Princess.”
“I love you more, August Walker.”
“Impossible, Mrs. Walker.”
The Fucking End.
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