Simon was given orders that day to go and question Halcon again. He stood for a moment with his captain, wondering if he should decline. It seemed like an increasingly bad idea to let him near the man. He went anyway, hoping it could help them. They planned to go back out in a week's time, try again, and maybe the falcon would give them something useful.
He sat across the man who looked haggard and asked about the coyotes, the desert road. He asked about the woman over and over again, wearing him down. He stayed seated. Watching the man squirm was satisfying.
"Are you still convinced I'm the threat?" He asked.
"Don't go denouncing your family now." Simon said, folding his hands.
"I would never."
"Then you are still a threat." He shrugged.
"They'll come for me."
Simon raised his eyebrows. "You think so? They've waited an awful long time to show up."
"Keeping me here is a mistake."
Simon got up and walked out. He wouldn't touch the man. Not today. He was pretty well convinced that Halcon thought he knew more than he did. He hadn't told them about the coyotes because he hadn't known. Simon was well inclined to believe that considering the hurt in the man's eyes. That was satisfying, too, but not helpful. He didn't have as much concern about him staying on the base. It was more likely to keep him alive anyway, if his men found out how much he had told them, he would be their next recruitment video.
MJ found him outside that night, like old times. She had been on the base for nearly two months. It felt like nearly nothing. But she approached him easily, and took his cigarette.
"That's a nasty habit." He said to her.
She smiled, not looking at him. "Life is short."
He just watched her. Sometimes, it didn't feel short enough. "I disagree."
She met his eyes. They were still. Silent. She knew they had seen things that she couldn't imagine. "That's not always so bad."
He nodded once, leaning forward to place his elbows on his knees. "That's true. If you've got something to keep you busy."
She knew what he meant. If you've got some purpose. Some peace. She finished the cigarette and snuffed it out herself.
Without speaking, he got up and followed her inside. Without speaking, he took her arm and steered her back down the hall to his room.
The next few nights were the same. They barely spoke. They just filled the same space.
The nightmares were constant, often repeating over and over until they woke him. Sometimes she was cold and incredulous like she had been in the first one, sometimes she was thrashing about and begging him for help. The injuries varied but they were all fatal and caused by his hands. He liked waking with her beside him, to remind him that it wasn't real.
They sat together, no different, the night before he left again.
"It's always so boring when you're gone." She said. He handed her a steaming mug and she momentarily wondered who the fuck she thought she was, sitting in his bed, drinking his tea.
"Boring is good." She watched him sit next to her. She was just a human, same as him. One he could tolerate.
"Mm." She took a sip. "I think you're right." She leaned back against the wall, cupping the drink in both hands. "My parents and I used to drive out to the Hamptons every summer. I always thought the drive was so long, and so boring. I've thought a lot lately about how I would kill to make that drive again."
"You miss them."
"More than anything." She closed her eyes. "The world is worse for losing them."
They sat in silence until he took her cup and sat it with his on the bedside table. She had that openness on her face again. It amazed him and he didn't deserve to see it. She brought up innocuous topics and he turned them dark, shot them down. He turned out the light.
She didn't mind his lack of conversation. He was the realest thing she could find anymore. She felt like she was simply waiting for the next step, and well aware that it could mean she would be leaving. With her family, on a plane back to the states, or in a body bag. At this point she was just glad that she hadn't died with Halcon. That she might prove useful after all. She had told Price she would help them and he had thanked her. He had promised her protection. But she hadn't felt safe there. She only felt safe with Simon.
"I would never hurt you." He found himself saying, like it was an apology.
"I know." She wondered if he were reassuring her or himself.
These moments with him, when his mask was hung up, forgotten, she worked hard not to take them for granted. Not because it was him, but because it reminded her that she wasn't completely broken. That she had something still to offer.
She reached for him as he climbed into bed, placing her hand on his clean-shaven cheek. He covered her hand with his and took her arm with his other as she moved to straddle his hips.
"You're very beautiful." She breathed, watching his long lashes blink in the near-blackness. Her fingers brushed the scar along his cheek with the same softness she had touched all his others.
He let her lie to him, knowing it wouldn't be long before it didn't matter. They would succeed and she would finally go home. He would never forget though, what that gentleness felt like. He might never stop looking for something just like it.
She pushed her hand back into his hair, raising the other to his face and leaning to kiss him. They kissed lazily, like they had all the time in the world. Rain fell outside, loud on the metal roof. He remembered why he didn't allow himself these things. They always taught him what he'd been missing, and what he could never truly have.
She pushed her hands under the edge of his t-shirt, feeling his cool skin, his tight muscles smooth against her body. She wanted him so bad, all over her, in her mind, in her body. She wanted him to save her again, to unchain her again. She couldn't have him. Not really. His heart and soul belonged to his cause, and their time was short.
He grabbed her hips with strong hands, guiding her as she moved against him. His hard length against her pulled a low moan from her lips and he ate it up, pushing her into him once more before flipping her in one smooth motion. She lay under him, attempting to catch her breath, waiting for him to move again. He just looked down at her.
He had hurt a lot of people in his life, and he was glad her sister had never found her. Because if she had been set before him as an enemy, he couldn't have faced her. Her eyes glinted in the dark as she watched him. He raised a hand to her face and ran his fingers over her skin, committing the shape and feel of it to memory. She took his hand in both of hers and placed a kiss on his palm in a way that was very nearly reverent. He placed that hand in her hair and lowered his face to her neck, kissing his way down to her collar bone.
She squirmed beneath him, not caring that he would see that she was desperate. He kissed back up her neck to her lips, sliding his other hand down the exposed plane of her stomach and under the waistband of her pants. He teased her with his fingers for a moment, letting her get used to his touch.
She grew tired of it, pulling away from the kiss and arching against him. "Please."
He watched her again as she closed her eyes and sucked in a breath when he slid a finger inside of her. She was already wet, warm in his hand, and he slowly fucked her with one finger until she pulled her eyes open and looked at him.
"Say please again." He said, his voice deep and warm.
A wave of heat pushed her back down into the mattress. "Please, Simon."
He stretched her with another finger, letting his thumb run gently over her clit. She loosened beneath him slowly, all of her tension coiling around his fingers.
She bit her lip to hold back a moan, he cupped her chin and slipped his thumb into her mouth so that she would let it out. She did and it settled at the base of his spine and threatened his stillness. He pressed his mouth into hers and stole the rest of them as she finished in his hand which he pressed tight against her so she could ride it out against his skin.
On top of her, he could feel her racing heart against his chest, like it could escape and give some of its life to him. She trembled beneath him, touching his face again. He sat back to pull off his shirt and she sat up to push him down onto his back. He let her. She pulled at his pants and he raised his hips so she could free his now aching length. He wanted to close his eyes but hers were demanding. They wouldn't let his go.
She straddled him again and laid her hands on his chest. She could feel his heart pound against her palm and she thought with great sadness that she might never forget how it felt. He raised his hand but she took it and placed it on her hip while she reached back and guided him in herself.
She let him stretch her further as she slowly lowered onto him. He kept one hand on her hip while the other reached under her shirt to feel her up. She let her head fall back as she found her rhythm, riding him slowly, fully, until he felt he had to be back in control. He pushed her knees out from under her and flipped them over in one fluid motion, pulling out just enough that gasped when he pushed back in. He laid his hands on either side of her. He was close, and he wanted to let her run her hands over his arms and shoulders. His eyes full of her, he finally pulled out, pressing their bodies together and finishing between their stomachs, wet and warm.
It was a long time before he was willing to let any space between them. She lay still, her chest pressing into his as they breathed. Finally, he climbed off the bed and cleaned himself off of her.
When he got back into bed, he sat back against the wall and pulled her back into his lap. She laid her head on his chest.
They hadn't spoken all that much in the nights they had spent together, and now he realized he regretted that. He rarely heard a voice other than his own and the radio in his ear.
"Where will you go when you're finished here?" He asked her, hoping to start a conversation that perhaps he wouldn't end by bringing up death.
She shifted. She hadn't thought much about it. She hadn't wanted to. "I did love my job. I think I'd like to get back into that somewhere. If not New York, then I'm not sure where." She gave him a nice, pretty, general answer. She didn't have much confidence that she'd ever make it out of the desert. "What about you? Where will you go?"
"Wherever they send me next."
"Where do you go in between?"
He swallowed. He wasn't sure he had intended to talk about himself. "Depends on how long we have. Sometimes a hotel, sometimes I can find a place to rent. Usually London."
"London is home?" She asked softly. She knew he didn't care to talk too much about it. She couldn't move on without knowing.
"The 141 is home. But London is a good pastime."
"Do you think you'll ever get out?" She had a feeling she knew the answer. She wanted to know if he had ever said it aloud.
"No." He closed his eyes and laid his head back against the wall. "I plan to be with them for the rest of my life."
She said nothing else. She was glad he had them. Eventually they lay down, her back against his side. He lay awake and stared at the ceiling for a long time.
"Simon." Mariana's breathless voice woke him. "Simon."
She felt for his arm frantically, her breathing jagged. He reached over her to turn on the lamp.
"Simon, help me." She choked on her own blood.
"Shh." He knelt back over her, trying to put pressure around the throwing knife sticking out of her chest. "Don't talk."
Her hands, covered in her own blood reached for him, smearing it all over his torso and arms. Her green eyes were wild. He could do nothing. He tried to stay calm, to keep her still so it hurt less, but she had seconds left. As her breathing spread out and her body finally relaxed, she looked him with precision. A cold, steady glare.
"You stabbed me."
"No." He whispered, closing his eyes. He could smell her blood, he could feel her go completely still, but he couldn't stand to watch.
Suddenly she pushed against him. His eyes flew open and he sat back as she sat straight up, his knife still in her chest.
"You should have left me there." Blood poured out of her mouth when she spoke and he backed away from her until he reached the edge—
Simon woke, unmoving. It was only a dream. He wet his lips, reaching out to touch her warm body. There was nothing there.
MJ stood in Simon's bathroom, looking in the mirror. She didn't recognize herself. All the more reason to shut out the light and go back to bed. His body heat would lull her right back to sleep. She flipped off the bathroom light but noticed another coming in from under the door. She bit her lip. She hadn't meant to wake him.
She cracked the door. He was standing next to the bed, looking her direction. She opened the door the rest of the way. His eyes were wide and bloodshot. He opened his mouth when he saw her but no sound came out. He looked quickly at the empty bed and then back at her. She hurried. She almost ran. She took his arm and put her other hand on his chest.
"I'm sorry."
His face settled closer to normal. "You're okay."
"Tea before bed." She pointed to the bathroom. Her eyes smiled.
He nodded. His shoulders dropped and he turned out the lamp. She followed him back under the sheets.
"Never do that again." He grumbled. Her heart ached.
"Yes, Lieutenant."
The next day, they parted early. The 141 wouldn't be leaving until the evening but there was plenty to be done before they did. She saw him once more, in the kitchen before he went to get dressed. He had on his mask so when she offered him a silent, sweet smile, he reached up and ran his thumb over it. She took his hand and kissed his palm like she had the night before.
He climbed into the truck with the others, Soap across from him as usual. They had two hours of driving for him to think of her body around his, her hands in his hair. The sound of her voice. It was a nice distraction. A nice motivation.
They sat up camp not far from their previous location. Ghost stood in the tent with Price, strategizing, when a call came over his radio.
"Base to 141-- Do you copy?"
Price frowned, wary. "This is Price. Over."
"Price." It was a woman's voice on the other end. A familiar one.
Ghost turned to him, dropping his arms to his sides. "This is Price to Base. Over."
Whoever was on the other end was fumbling around, breathing heavily into the radio. "Price, they're here."
"Who?"
"They're in the base." The voice whispered, barely discernable. It was Rossi.
"Who?" Simon echoed Price.
"They're—" The radio cut out.
"Rossi." Price said into the radio, his voice cold. "Rossi, come in."
They stood in silence for a comical amount of time, waiting for something more.
"They're leaving now." The woman sounded afraid. Like she was hiding.
Silence.
"They killed the guards."
"We're coming back." Price nodded to Simon, but he didn't move. He knew what the medic was going to say next, but he had to hear it.
"They took her."