January Prompt: Found Again (Patreon)

Masterlist

Notes: Not much to say on this one! It's Echo and Gen's reunion after eight months from Echo's POV :)

CDAD: Found Again

I was squatting down in the snow a few yards off the side of the road, staring at a trail of footprints with a growing ache in my chest. These were Genevieve’s prints, I was almost sure of it. I’d been almost sure of it for a month now, after we’d stumbled on the broken shaft of an arrow near them and Mal confirmed it was one of hers. But they were just prints that never led us to Genevieve.

Tripton squatted at my side, running his finger around one of them to trace its outline. “What do you think?”

I thought that for six months we’d wandered without any idea what we were doing or where we were going, hoping to get lucky and find her. I thought that I’d felt hope the first time we saw that broken arrow, and finally had prints to follow. And I thought that that hope might be gone. It hadn’t snowed in over a week, and I couldn’t tell how fresh these tracks were. They weren’t like the tracks we’d first found a month ago either. Weren’t near-perfect boot prints in the snow. They were clumsily dragged feet with the occasional steadying handprint. They were greater in number and closer together, like her footsteps were getting smaller. That was all I’d learned to read in these tracks, but it gnawed at the clump of worry that had existed in the pit of my stomach for the last eight months, eating away at what little hope I had left.

I sighed, reaching up to take off my beanie and shake my head. “I don’t know.” Every time he, Mal, Garcia, or Hatfield, asked me that question, I wanted to say ‘what if she’s dead?’ What if we finally find her, and we find her too late? What if she’s been dead, and we’ve been following the footprints of whoever killed her and stole the bow? What if we find her and she’s not Genevieve, but feral? What if, what if, what if? Over eight months I’d considered every possibility I could think of, and all but one of them broke my heart. But the one that didn’t was the one that kept me pushing. What if we find her?

“We only have one option,” I said.

From beside me and behind me, all four of them muttered, “To see it through.”

Garcia leaned back against a tree and said, “You’re due for a migraine today. Should we wait till it’s passed?”

I shook my head again. “Every minute we wait is another minute between us and whoever’s making these prints.”

“Tell you what,” Tripton said, a hint of teasing in his voice, “I’d never work this hard for a girl. No way.”

I cracked a small smile and shoved him sideways, knocking him into the snow. “I know, hot shot.” But she was worth it. She’d always been worth it. “Ready to move?”

There were murmurs and nods, and we collected our packs and weapons and started after the tracks. Every time we did this, my stomach was in knots. The general hopelessness that threatened to overwhelm me every day grew to nerves whenever we followed the prints. The questions of ‘what if’ flashed through my mind with every step while I prepared myself for stumbling upon the worst. And the truth was, I was getting exhausted.

I’d never give up on Genevieve. I could never go back to base without knowing for sure, but eight months of searching and not being able to find her, of not even knowing if she was alive, it had started taking its toll on me. No matter how tired I was, I had trouble sleeping. Food had no taste and rest-time conversations amongst our small group held no interest. All I could think about, all I could see in my dreams were those footprints in the snow, and every day our search ended fruitless I wanted to break down and cry. I was frustrated and worried and tired, and I’d have given anything for one fleeting glimpse of her.

So we followed the tracks. Past trees and through the woods, keeping an eye out for anything that might help. We weren’t following for too long before Hatfield grabbed my shoulder and said, “Look.” She was pointing to a spot not too far off the trail we were following, where there was something small and colorful in the snow.

All five of us hurried to it. It was a broken arrow, shattered against the tree beside it, but what caught my eye and held it were the spatters of blood in the snow. It was all I could focus on as my heart plummeted and my breath caught in my lungs.

“It’s deer blood,” Mal said, setting a hand on my shoulder and shaking it to get my attention. “Echo, look,” and she pointed to some unfamiliar tracks in the snow, “it’s not Genevieve’s.”

“How sure are you?” I asked.

“I’m from Kentucky, remember? I know deer prints.”

I sighed heavily, nodding and bending down to pick up a piece of the arrow. So she was hunting, if it was Genevieve. I wished I knew enough about tracking to tell exactly how fresh the blood was, but there was something in my heart that knew it was recent. I felt it, and maybe it was just a much-needed burst of blind hope, or maybe it was wishful thinking, but that sinking in my stomach changed to determination.

“Let’s go.”

We picked up following the boot prints at a faster pace, but were only on the trail for another minute before there was a loud crack not far in the distance. A gunshot. As far as we’d been able to tell, Genevieve hadn’t found a gun, and I immediately started running toward the noise. Almost another minute and I could see the cabin, and I was sprinting at it so fast in the deep snow that I nearly fell on my face stumbling over a noisy trip-wire tied between trees. I managed to keep my balance and caught a dash of movement disappearing behind the cabin, and while I chased after it, a couple of others veered toward the door. That movement darted into a small clearing behind the cabin, and I skidded to a halt when I realized it was a Hunter.

“Want me to go after it?” Tripton asked, but no sooner than the question had left his mouth, there was a second gunshot from inside the cabin.

We took off back around the side, but Garcia’s yell of, “She’s here!” caused me to blast into a sprint.

I pounded across the wooden porch of the cabin and pushed past Garcia, freezing in the doorway as a familiar pair of brown eyes met mine. It was her. After eight months, I was finally looking right at her. I almost couldn’t believe it, but my heart swelled as my entire body flushed with the warmth of relief. A massive smile reached my lips, and I struggled to hold back the intensely joyful moisture building behind my eyes. “We found you.”

But Genevieve was just staring at me, wide-eyed with shock, and I took in the rest of her as she struggled to stand. She looked terrible. She was thin. God, she was thin. Her cheeks were sunken and her face was pale, she had heavy dark bags under her eyes and her entire body was quivering as she reached her feet. She looked so weak that I took a couple of steps forward, preparing to catch her if she fell.

And I didn’t know what to say. She teetered toward me looking confused, looking like she didn’t know what to think about the fact that I was standing here, and I wanted to say so many things at once: I found you, I was so worried about you but you’re here and I’m here and I love you and please say something. I wanted her to stop looking at me like she was seeing a ghost. I needed her to say something. Needed to hear my name on her lips or for her to cuss me out for scaring her or even just hear her voice. Anything. I’d take any word she’d give me just to know that she was still my Genevieve. To know that the confused emptiness in her eyes wasn’t something I should worry about.

But she didn’t say anything. She stared at me while she raised one trembling hand, eyes running over every inch of my face. She looked so frail I was scared she’d faint, but she was in such shock that her breath came in shallow quakes, and I needed her to breathe. So I reached up to set my hand against the back of hers, and guided it forward to set her palm against my cheek. The very moment her hand touched my face, her eyes filled with tears. Her chest heaved with the first broken sob, and by the next one she completely collapsed. I’d been ready to catch her since the moment I saw her, and my arms flew around her waist so she wouldn’t hit the floor as she broke down crying.

“Okay,” I whispered, hugging her to me as she shook with sobs. “It’s okay.”

I supported her weight as I lowered us to the floor, and when I reached my knees, she crumpled into a heap, burying her face against my thighs just to cry. And my eyes flooded with a mix of emotions. I’d never felt so relieved. She was alive and she was here and she was with me. But she was a mess. The evidence of how much pain she’d been in the last eight months was written all over her – in her weight and her exhaustion and her tears – and that hurt me more than every day of not knowing if she was dead or alive. Because she hadn’t been either one of those. She’d been tortured and empty, and I couldn’t look at her bawling in my lap and say that my redemption had been worth it. That any part of me was worth one day of her suffering like this.

“You’re dead,” she choked, one hand clutching at the loose cargo fabric against my thigh. “Kill me. If you’re not real, please just kill me. I can’t take it.”

I swallowed against the agonizing ache that put in my heart, and glanced over my shoulder at everyone standing in the doorway. “Give us a bit.” They all left to wait outside. “Genevieve,” I whispered, and I leaned forward to rest my upper body over her back. “It’s me. You feel me. I’m here.” But I could hardly imagine how she was feeling, because after eight months, there was even a small part of me that was having a hard time believing this. Believing the feel and warmth of her weren’t a figment of my imagination.

“I’m dead,” she cried, shaking her head. “I let the Hunter bite me and now I’m dead.”

My eyes darted sideways to the dead body of a feral nearby as her words sank in. Is that what happened? My worst nightmare had been about to come true because she was going to let it? I sat up, cupping her face and guiding her up so I could meet her teary red eyes. “You’re not dead,” I told her, brushing my thumb over her cheek. “I’m not dead.” I set my forehead against hers, unable to stop tears from leaking from my eyes as I cherished the feel of her, hoping that she could feel it too. Hoping that she recognized just how real this was. “I’ve been looking for you for eight months to tell you that. And I found you.”

Her eyes filled briefly with something like wonder before she broke down all over again. She wrapped her arms around me and buried her face in my neck, and she cried. I don’t know what I expected our reunion to be like, I wasn’t even sure I’d ever find her and had never let my thinking get that far ahead, but there was nothing to do except let her cry. So I held her. I curled my arms around her waist and basked in the feel of her against me, and god, she felt good.

She felt like Genevieve. My Genevieve. She hugged the same and she smelled the same and every doubt I had for months was gone. She was here and alive and hugging me. She was relieved to see me, and no matter how broken she was and how much it hurt to see her like this, I was relieved too. Because we’d always find each other, and now that the doubts were gone, I knew it. Fate. She’d found me, and then I’d found her, and no matter what, we’d always find each other again.

She hugged me for a long time until she stopped crying, and then for a while longer while she sniffled the remaining moisture away. I still wanted so badly to hear her voice, to just stare into her eyes, and it felt like that time might be nearing. But then there was a piercing pain in my skull, and my hands clutched at Genevieve’s back as my entire body tensed.

“Echo?” Genevieve pulled away, but I knew what was coming, and I had just enough time left in control to get myself away from her.

I dropped sideways as the agony peaked, and the better part of my consciousness was gone. All I knew when these headaches hit was hunger. Hunger like I’d never experienced, not even when I’d starved with lack of food. It was fathomless and insatiable and maddening. Such voracious hunger that I’d devour anything and everything I could, whether it had a pulse or not. It was parasitic bloodlust, and there was just a small enough speck of consciousness that was still my own that allowed me to fight it. It allowed me to keep myself focused and unmoving.

I focused on the pain. It was excruciating, the worst pain I’d ever felt in my life, but it was something else to focus on besides the hunger. So I forced myself to stay put even though I could hear Genevieve panicking, because one distraction might be enough that I lost my shred of control even for a moment, and I would never let myself hurt her.

This battle always felt like it lasted forever, and no matter how many times I wished I’d get used to it, I never did. By the time it ended, I was panting for air, trembling with the lingering tension from enduring so much pain. I stayed where I was to make sure it was completely over, but then my stomach heaved with a gag. It wasn’t uncommon for the pain to get so bad I vomited, so I struggled to my feet and rushed out of the cabin to throw up in the snow.

I waited there for a minute, and it wasn’t just to make sure I felt okay. It was to make sure I looked okay, because the last thing I wanted was for Genevieve to worry when she was clearly already dealing with so much. When I felt ready, I wandered back inside, passing a grateful smile to Garcia, who’d kept her company during the headache. “Thanks, Garcia.” He nodded and left, and I replaced him sitting at Genevieve’s side.

“What was that?” she asked, and though I’d tried so hard not to make her worry, she was.

“Headache.”

“Why? From what?” She had to reach up to wipe away a few fresh tears that fell down her cheeks. She looked miserable and concerned and terrified.

I pulled my knees up and rubbed at the stinging nail marks I’d scratched into the back of my neck. “Every couple of days, um,” I glanced over at her, but I didn’t want to say this, not while she was so fragile, “the parasite tries to take over. So I have to fight it, and it hurts.” I shook my head and sighed. “Nice timing. I didn’t want you to see that before you knew.” I’d wanted to prepare her for the reality that my being alive had come with a price. I’d wanted to prepare myself for the shame of having to tell her the truth. 

“You’re infected?” she asked. I nodded, and it made her eyes brim with even more sorrow. “Are you… Are you contagious?”

I couldn’t look at her while I said, “My blood is… yeah.” When she didn’t say anything, I looked up again. She was staring up at the ceiling, tears streaming from the side of her eyes, and I could see it. She blamed herself for this. That was the last thing I expected her to do, but I could see the guilt and it broke my heart. “No.” I cupped her face in my hands, wiping away the next few tears. “It’s okay. I’m okay.”

Her face twisted with agony, her mouth curved into a heavy frown as she whimpered, “I’m sorry.”

“Don’t,” I pleaded, wiping away another tear. I didn’t want her to blame herself. I was infected, and I lived with the scars of it every day, but the truth was that I finally felt free. I’d lived with guilt for years because of the things I’d done as a raider, but I’d given my life for someone I loved, for someone I’d hurt, and I’d been given a second chance. I’d take the consequences. I’d take a lifetime of punishment headaches and the shame of bite scars if it meant that I’d finally forgiven myself even a little. “Stop, it’s fine.”

I pressed a soft kiss to her forehead, but that only seemed to make it worse as more tears streamed down her face. “I thought you were dead,” she cried. “The fever was gone and you were bleeding so much.” She broke down into more sobs. “I thought I’d never see you again.”

“I was starting to think so too,” I said, trying to lift her spirits with a playful smile. “Finding you was hard work.”

“It was supposed to be. I thought Blake would try and find me. I’m so sorry.” She sniffled, inhaling a series of jagged breaths to hold back more tears. But that guilt was still in her eyes and in the curve of her mouth, and I didn’t know what else to do as she said, “I should’ve stayed. I should’ve checked you and I shouldn’t have run and I should’ve made su-”

All I could think to do to show her that not a single part of me blamed her was pull her into a kiss. My lips met hers and it took me a few seconds to realize that I’d just kissed Genevieve. Genevieve, who for so long would get furious if I assumed I could do anything, and who I hadn’t even seen in eight months. I didn’t give myself time to enjoy it before I pulled back and let her go with a spark of panic in my chest. “I’m sorry,” I said. “It’s been so long. I should’ve asked if-”

“Don’t apologize,” she said, and she grabbed the collar of my jacket and pulled me back to her. She kissed me, and my heart stuttered so hard it forced some air out of my lungs. After eight months, she was kissing me again, and there was no doubt in my mind that her feelings hadn’t changed. She told me once that she loved me and was never taking it back, and she’d meant it. She still loved me. After all the things I’d done, after messing up so bad that I almost cost us the entire base, after forcing her to watch me bleed and making her live eight months in misery... She loved me.

The last thing I expected was for her to cry some more, but she sobbed so hard it yanked her away from the kiss. It was clear when I met her eyes, and caught the red tint seeping into her cheeks, that it was the first sob she’d made that wasn’t from pain. It was joyful, and I couldn’t help laughing at her embarrassment by it. 

“God, I missed you,” I told her. I leaned back to drink in the sight of her. I’d missed that modest smile and the shape of her lips. I’d missed her gorgeous brown eyes and the way she looked at me when she was happy.

“I missed you more,” she said quietly.

And I believed her, and I turned sideways to wrap my arm around her to pull her close. She laid her head back on my shoulder, and we sat there in silence for a few minutes. It was such a relief to finally be with her again that I could’ve sat there forever, just feeling her against me and listening to her breathe.

Eventually, she asked, “Echo? What happened?”

"I woke up,” I answered with a shrug.

I don’t know how I survived losing as much blood as I did, and with the emotional state Genevieve was in right now, I didn’t have the heart to tell her that the parasite really did take over while I got those headaches. But I told her everything else. Everything Samuel had said about why I was still me, about searching for her and how her brother wanted so badly to come with us. She told me about the Hunter bite on her arm, and she cried some more over the guilt she felt for leaving. We talked, and her voice was the most beautiful thing I’d ever heard, but after a while I was ready to go home. I was ready to be comfortable, with her, somewhere we could relax and feel safe and just be.

So we trekked to the vehicle and climbed in the back, and the moment we were seated, I pulled two cans out of my bag. Now that Genevieve was alive, the state of her health was my next big worry. “Mystery cabin can, or turkey stuffing can?”

She didn’t even answer before snatching the stuffing can out of my hand. It was kind of a surprise to watch her fit the can in the bend of her right arm and open it with her left, but then again, maybe I’d underestimated it when she said she’d lost some function from the feral bite. She managed to get it open though, and then reclined into my side while she ate, and I loved that she just couldn’t bring herself to be out of contact with me for long.

She swallowed bites whole, and as much of a relief and an amusement it was that she had such an appetite, I didn’t want her making herself sick. “Slow down,” I said into her ear. “You know better than that.”

“But it’s so good,” she protested, and I couldn’t help but laugh at how much she was enjoying it.

I let her eat the rest in peace, and when she was done, she laid down on the bench and rested her head on my thighs. She never failed to make my stomach flutter, and just looking at her, sleeping in my lap, filled me with so much warmth. God, I loved her. I loved her more than I’d ever loved anything. Loved her so much that I’d have given the world just to see her smile, and she looked so comfortable lying there that I couldn’t help running my fingers through her hair, couldn’t help touching her just to adore the way she felt.

It didn’t feel like long at all before we were driving through the gates back to base. “You ready?” I asked Genevieve as she sat up.

“Please don’t leave my side,” she pleaded, looking suddenly scared. Or nervous. “If I lost sight of you I-”

I pressed a slow, reassuring kiss to her lips, so she’d know I meant it when I said, “The last thing I ever want to do again is leave your side.”

The door of the Stryker opened and I followed Genevieve out, but no sooner had she touched down than Micah reached her. He hugged her around the waist, spinning her in such enthusiastic circles that he nearly fell. Then he hugged her hard again and scolded her for leaving, but they both looked so happy. Though there was an uncharacteristic hesitancy in Genevieve’s movements and demeanor that I could only blame on months of solitude, she was grinning, and Micah was beyond excited, smiling ear to ear with his eyes full of relieved tears.

I had to take my eyes off them for a moment when Imogen pulled me into a hug. “Hey,” I laughed, hugging her in return.

“I can’t believe you found her,” she said, letting me go. “I’m glad you’re both back.”

She moved on to give Genevieve a hug too, and Genevieve went around greeting everyone who came up to see her, but she didn’t look truly afraid of greeting anyone until Blake drove up. He got out of the car with Casey and the baby, and then strode up to Genevieve with a serious look on his face that only seemed to make her fear worse. It all went away the moment Blake’s expression lit up.

“Pipsqueak,” he said, and Genevieve hardly got to react before he yelled, “I fucking missed you!” and scooped her into a massive hug. “Goddamn!” I couldn’t help grinning at how excited everyone was, and how relieved Genevieve looked every time someone was happy to see her.

While Blake came over to hug me in greeting, Genevieve wandered to Casey, and was holding the baby by the time I reached her side.

“Genevieve,” Blake said, “meet Hayden.”

Genevieve’s eyes shot to me, like she wasn’t sure how I’d feel about that, but I’d known, and I smiled, and her eyes filled with new tears. That’s what I’d been waiting for. That reaction. That look. I’d been waiting for the moment she met Blake’s child, her niece, and discovered that they’d named her after me. That my name, a name she’d wanted revived for so long, that maybe it hadn’t died after all.

“Hello, Hayden,” Genevieve said, struggling to hold back tears. “I’m Genevieve.” And the baby smiled at her, such a big and beautiful smile that we both laughed happily.

We couldn’t keep our eyes off Hayden, and we stood there cooing at her and giving her kisses and laughing at what a happy baby she was for a few minutes before Blake announced that there was a huge meal to celebrate our return, and so we followed everyone to the dining hall.

I had to share her for a while at dinner – it seemed like everyone here was excited about seeing her. However, it didn’t take too long before I could tell she was starting to get overwhelmed, and she looked relieved when I asked, “Want to get out of here?” She nodded, so I stood without hesitation. “Sorry folks, I’m stealing my-” But I stopped short. Holy shit, I’d almost said ‘girlfriend.’ Eight months we’d been apart, but she’d been so close to me all night and hardly even leaving my side that it almost came so naturally. “Genevieve,” I said instead, “for the rest of the night.”

There were protests, but I guided her out anyway. She started heading in the direction of the barracks, but I grabbed her hand to take her the opposite way. “Nope. This way.” I had a surprise for her. Something I was certain she’d enjoy even though I’d had to trade a day of Mal’s labor to get her to prepare it for me.

“You could’ve said it, you know,” Genevieve told me while we walked. I lifted an eyebrow at her. “Girlfriend. That’s what you almost said, right?”

“Yeah…” I admitted, giving an embarrassed smile. “But I didn’t want to assume how you wanted things to be. I thought maybe you’d want to start over, or ease into it until you got used to being back.”

“No,” she said instantly, stopping to turn and look at me. “I wasted so much time with you, and I spent the last eight months regretting it.” She hugged my hand she was holding to her chest. “I don’t want to ease into it, or take it slow, or start over. I don’t want to live another day without you knowing exactly how much I love you.”

“I know it,” I said, but even just hearing those words made my heart skip. “Do you know it? Because I do, Gen, I love you.”

Instead of saying anything, she kissed me. She kissed me so deeply that there was no way I could doubt how much she loved me. I felt it in her arms around my neck, and the movement of her lips, and the press of her body. It made me happier than I’d been in so long, so that I couldn’t keep kissing her because I was grinning. I laughed my joy as I pulled away from the kiss, and spun her in one circle before putting her down and taking her hand in mine.

“Come on,” I said, unable to tear my eyes away from the smile that had lit up her face. “I have a surprise for you.”

She let me drag her all the way to our special house, and then up the stairs to a closed door. When we stopped at it, she glanced back and forth between it and me, waiting patiently for me to reveal what was on the other side. I turned the knob and opened the door of the bathroom, praying Mal had done a good enough job. And when I saw that she hadn’t just filled the bathtub with water, but also set out a few candles, I was more than satisfied.

Genevieve sighed contentedly at the sight and leaned into my side. “I love you so fucking much.”

I couldn’t help laughing. “I know how much you enjoy a bath.”

“I do,” she said with an unmistakable smile in her voice. “It’s been so long.” She strode in and bent over to touch the water. “It’s still hot,” she said in shock. “But how did you…?”

“Oh I’ll be paying for it,” I laughed, “trust me.” She trudged back over, unmistakable gratitude in her eyes as she wrapped her arms around my waist to hug me in thanks. “Wash up,” I said, pressing a kiss to her head. Thinking she could use a few minutes alone after being so overwhelmed at dinner, I told her, “Take your time,” and stepped toward the door, “I’ll wait for you out here.”

But she caught my hand before I could retreat out the door. “Will you…” she gestured toward the tub, “stay?”

Stay? I glanced at the bath while my stomach flipped, because it was clear that she didn’t just want me to stay. She wanted me to join her. In a bath. Naked. And I’d be lying if I said the idea of seeing Genevieve naked after all this time didn’t stir me.

Only, she read the look in my eyes and said, “Not that kind of stay…”

“Oh,” I mumbled. Did I sound disappointed?

I might’ve sounded disappointed, because Genevieve backtracked. “I want to, it’s just I’m, you know… I haven’t had solid sleep in a couple weeks and I’m exhausted.” 

“I get it,” I laughed. Honestly, I didn’t care about sex right then anyway. All I really wanted was to be close to her.

“But you’ll stay?”

I set my hands on her hips, tugging the hem of her shirt while I teased, “I’ll even help you out of your clothes.”

“I bet you will,” she said amusedly. She shrugged out of her jacket, tossing it to the floor and then lifting her arms so I could take her shirt off.

“You know,” I mused, tracing my hands over her bare waist while she shimmied out of her sports bra, “the last time I actually saw you naked, you still hated me.”

“Well,” she said with a smirk, taking the time to push my jacket off and then reach for the bottom of my shirt before finishing, “you better get used to-” But it cut her off short when my hands shot down to grab hers, stopping her from removing my long-sleeved shirt. She glanced up from her hands to my face, looking confused. “What’s wrong?”

I wanted this. Wanted to be in that comfortably intimate bath without any barriers and to feel her skin on mine, but I was nervous. Ever since I’d stumbled back to base, bloody and bitten, I’d kept every scar hidden that I could, afraid they’d make people uncomfortable. The last thing I wanted was for Gen to see them and for it to ruin the happy mood.

“I um,” I hesitated, forcing myself to meet her eyes as I sighed and said, “I’m scarred, Gen.” Her eyes fell knowingly to the one in my neck. “My arms got the worst of it and I just… I don’t want you to be turned off by it. Or be uncomfortable or feel guilty.” I let out a heavy breath and admitted the truth, “I’m self-conscious.”

“Hey,” she said softly, and she curled her arms around my neck and pressed a tender kiss to my lips. “It’s okay. I can handle it, and it won’t change anything.”

I gave an unsure nod. I didn’t have the courage to remove my shirt myself, but I didn’t stop her when her hands gripped the hem of it again. There was no protest from me as she raised it up my torso, and no faltering from her when she unveiled the single bite scar on my ribs. I lifted my arms, letting her slip the shirt over my head and discard it to the floor, and once it was gone, she didn’t immediately stare at my arms. She held my gaze, leaning in to give me another comforting kiss before her eyes wandered down.

I couldn’t help shutting my own eyes as she took me in, but I knew where she was looking because she touched. She ran her fingertips over the one in my ribs, and then over the one near my wrist that she’d caught a glimpse of in the cabin. They wandered up my arms, stopping to trace the outline of every one, until she’d reached my neck. She caressed the one on my neck with a single finger, and then dipped forward to press her lips to it.

“You saved my life,” she said, nuzzling her nose against my pulse, “and Casey’s and Hayden’s.” She pulled back to look at me, running her hands once more down my arms. “These will never make me uncomfortable.”

They made me uncomfortable, but I gave a grateful half-smile anyway, and in an attempt not to let it get to me, teased, “Maybe I should just get more tattoos to cover them up…”

“Sleeves are kind of sexy,” Genevieve quipped.

“You think so? It’s a good thing I know so many tattoo artists then…”

She laughed, but undid the button of my cargos and then gestured to the bottom half of my clothing. “Off, before the bath gets cold.”

I obeyed, taking off my boots and pants and underwear while she did the same, until we were both standing there completely nude. It was the first time Genevieve had ever seen me completely naked, and though she didn’t say anything, she looked. Her eyes wandered across my chest, down my stomach and lingered between my legs. It only lasted a few seconds, but she was smiling by the time she was done, and then she turned and hurried to the bath.

It was hot enough that she got in slowly, and inhaled at the heat until she’d sunk into the water up to her chest. Then her eyes shut and her head tipped back and she let out the euphoric kind of groan that did things to me.

I didn’t even consider acting on it though, and instead strode to the edge of the tub. “Where do you want me?”

She tossed her thumb backward. “Behind me.”

I slipped into the water behind her, until she was sitting between my legs. She reached back to grab my arms, pulling them around her waist so she could lean back against me, letting her head fall onto my shoulder. And we sat there. Silent and unmoving for a long handful of minutes, Genevieve looking so peaceful and content I wasn’t entirely sure she hadn’t already fallen asleep. Not that I minded. The water was soothing and warm, and we were finally just… together. No immediate threats, no danger, no responsibilities or missions or stress. Just us.

“You awake?” I whispered. Genevieve made the barest hum of acknowledgement. “This feels so domestic…”

She managed a gentle laugh, her voice barely a murmur, “It’s weird, right?” I nodded my agreement. “I like it though.”

“I can tell,” I teased, “could you even open your eyes if you tried?”

She huffed amusedly. “Probably not.”

“Here,” I offered, reaching for the washcloth hanging over the side of the tub, “let me get you clean so you can sleep in an actual bed.”

She hummed her tired consent, and held still while I dipped the cloth under the water and then lifted it to her face. I wiped away months of wandering and hopelessness and heartbreak as gently as I could, and then I washed her neck, her chest, her stomach and her arms, massaging where I could and earning more tired hums as I went. Eventually I got her to sit up so I could do her back, and then she turned around to let me wash her legs, and I felt her eyes on me the entire time I worked. I could feel the appreciation and the love, and it made my cheeks warm with a blush.

“You’re making me shy,” I laughed, finally meeting her stare because I was done.

“I’m still trying to convince myself you’re real…” she said, and I offered a small and reassuring smile. She reached out to take the washcloth from me. I almost protested that she didn’t have to return the favor, but she said before I could, “I want to.”

So I let her. It was a quiet process. The extent of her exhaustion was clear in her eyes and the bags that lingered beneath them, and she’d done so much conversing at dinner that a part of me thought she appreciated the silence. We’d have plenty of time to talk later anyway. We’d have the rest of our lives, however short or long they may be.

The last thing we did was both dip our heads below the surface of the water, and, still facing each other, worked suds of shampoo into each other’s hair. Genevieve was smiling the moment we reached up, and before long the both of us were laughing, because it wasn’t quite as romantic as anything else had been, and she teased by mussing my soapy hair into my face. After dipping back under to rinse it all out, I stood, grabbing a towel from the nearby rack and holding it up. Genevieve got up too, letting me wrap the towel around her and then stepping out of the tub while I gathered my own.

We brushed our teeth, I drained the water and blew out the candles, and we wandered through the dark to the bedroom and dried off our bodies and hair. I tossed my towel into a corner and opened a dresser drawer, saying, “There’s fresh clothes in here.”

“No.” Genevieve grabbed my hand and pulled me away from it.

“No?” I asked, following her toward the bed. “No clothes?”

She mumbled a negative and slipped under the blankets, and it wasn’t until I got in too, facing her and scooting in close, that she answered, “I’m too tired now, but I won’t be in the morning…”

Just the fact that she was thinking about sex, even if she was too exhausted to act on it, it made my body flush. And I was so not going to protest that, even if I did tease, “You weren’t kidding about not easing into it or taking it slow.”

She huffed with laughter and scooted into me even more, until she was pressed flush against me with her face buried in my neck and her arm wrapped over my waist. I could feel the way she settled instantly. Felt all the remaining tension and uncertainty leave her body as she relaxed into me. “I’m falling asleep,” she whispered, her voice a little more than a mumble.

“That’s okay.” I draped my arm over her, caressing her back with my hand. “I’ll be here when you wake up.”

“Promise?”

“Yeah,” I said, kissing the top of her head and hugging her to me. She took in a deep breath and let it out heavily, like the kind of breath that comes at the beginning of sleep, and that let me know she’d already passed out. “Promise.”