Until Death Do Us Part

Twenty-Nine

~Cut Deep~
Matt Maeson

"Cut deep and I'm still alive."

As expected, our parents wanted us home as soon as they found out we had failed our mission. Tom's parents seemed especially disappointed in his "scratch" that would prevent us from doing what needed to be done for the time being. My parents wanted me to continue on without him, that was until Tom's mother tried to say that it could tarnish my chances of growing our family if I sustained an injury that would leave permanent effects.

Our plan was to settle at home, wait for things to calm down, for Tom to heal, and then form a new plan of attack. I hated having to do exactly what our parents wanted when they wanted, but I reminded myself that it was only until we established ourselves as our own family. We would become just as powerful as them, even more so. We just had to bide our time.

"Did you get everything?" Tom asked, starting to get up from the bed. His eyes closed as he tried to recover from the flash of pain that must've shot at his abdomen.

"I've got it. Be careful. I'll drive us to the airport, okay?" I replied, grabbing our bags. It would take me more than one trip to get all of them into the car, but Tom was still in no shape to be carrying heavy things. I was not about to let him tear his stitches open.

"I can carry something light in my other arm, it won't pull as much that way," he offered, moving slowly towards me, each step carefully calculated. I was going to protest, but the look in his eyes told me he wouldn't take no for an answer. So, I gave him my toiletries bag to bring downstairs. His eyebrows knit together as he controlled his breathing, making his way to the door.

By the time I was pulling us away from the mansion, the sun was beginning to set, causing different pastel hues to spread across the sky. Lavenders and pinks clumped together behind the clouds as we curved around the roads toward the airport.

I stole glances over at Tom, who was restraining from clutching at his abdomen. He was at the prime itching stage of his healing, and on top of the wound being sore, that was not a good situation. We were doing everything we could, though, to make sure it was healing as quickly and properly as possible. Clean, bandage, clean, ointment, bandage, medicine, repeat.

The plane was completely ready for takeoff by the time Tom and I pulled in. Miles came to greet us, and the other crew members loaded our bags. "How are you feeling?" he asked Tom.

"Like hell, but hey, that's nothing new," he replied with a shrug of his shoulders. Miles looked at me with a pleading look.

"No infection, and the redness is going down. We've been very on top of the cleaning and medical process. I have a notebook, too, to keep track of which medications he's getting and when," I answered, pulling out the little spiral book from my purse. Miles looked over it quickly, but with focused eyes.

"Good. You should make a full recovery quickly. Remember-"

"No extraneous physical movement for three more weeks. I got it. Do you have secret meetings without me, too?" Tom asked with a roll of his eyes, but his lips were smiling. He knew we were just keeping him safe, and I could tell he was grateful for it even if he didn't say so.

"That includes..." Miles looked between us with a raised eyebrow.

"Yep, got it," I replied in a rush, ushering him back into the plane. Tom chuckled beside me as I helped him up the stairs. I had to remind myself that he was injured and I couldn't slap him.

Once we were inside, I got the attention of one of the staff on board. "Can we get two glasses of whiskey please? On the rocks," I asked as Tom and I settled into our seats.

"At ten in the morning?" Tom asked with a smirk from the seat across from me. I looked down at my hands, chewing at the inside of my cheek. The last time we were on this plane, we were sitting next to each other, giddy for our honeymoon. So much had happened since then.

"You need it for the pain. I need it for commiseration," I replied. He laughed, but quickly stopped himself as his hand clutched around the edge of his seat, his knuckles whitening. I wished I could do something other than take care of him. I wanted to be able to take some of the pain, to give him an ounce of relief.

When one of the attendants came with our drinks, Tom didn't wait for her to place it on the table in between us. He gripped the iced glass in his hand and took two large gulps. The glass was empty. The attendant looked in between us with widened eyes, still holding onto my drink.

"What are you waiting for? An invitation? Get me another," Tom said with a clenched jaw, his words spitting through his teeth. The attendant quickly put my glass down and then grabbed his empty one, scurrying off to the back.

"What the hell was that?" I asked, sipping at the cold whiskey. It burned down my throat, warming my stomach and radiating that warmth throughout my entire body. It was delicious. It must have been barreled for a long time because I could taste the wooden smokiness of it on my tongue.

"Sorry," Tom said, letting a sharp breath out through his teeth. "The pain, the meds. Boggles up my brain and I become my father." He leaned back in his seat, looking up at the ceiling as if it would distract him from the pain.

I remembered Tom's skin. How several tattoos covered different sections of his chest, his back, anywhere that wouldn't be visible if he was in his public attire. They were scattered, covering different bumps. Scars. Tom had been shot more times than I had thought. His reaction, the way he had tried to take control of the situation even though he was bleeding and in shock. It was all because he had to go through it before, multiple times.

"I understand," I answered, my voice quiet. My eyes moved up to see the attendant coming back towards us, very hesitant. The glass of whiskey shook in her hands and I couldn't tell if that was because she was scared of the mafia king across from me that snapped at her, or if it was because the plane was starting to take off.

Tom allowed her to put the glass on the table this time, and he smiled as she did so. "I apologize for my earlier outburst. I'm not myself at the moment," he said, charming as ever. She looked at him, dumbfounded. He knew how to spell people, and she was just as entranced as anyone else, even if he had been rude to her only a minute earlier.

"Thank you, sir," she said in a breathy whisper. Then, she was off to sit with the rest of the crew, and we were off into the sky.

We were leaving the horrible experience of Greece behind us, but I had a feeling that we weren't going to receive much relief at home. Tom getting shot wasn't just going to be a drawback, it was going to be a catalyst.

~ ~ ~

I am extremely, severely, and utterly sorry for how late this dull chapter is getting to you guys! If you didn't see my post, I had been sick for almost two months, but finally I got the right medication and now I'm back to normal. Hopefully, I'll be on a more regular posting schedule from here on out.

Anyways, I hope you enjoyed this chapter all the same, even if it is short and not all that eventful.

Thank you so much for the support, and I'll catch y'all in the next one <3

~Aidan