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Yes, I know it's been four years, just let me in (raven&I)

O

OverlordMatt

Planetoid
Joined
Jan 22, 2009
Well, he'd come full circle. That was one of the very few things that John was sure as he stood in the rain in a battered leather coat over a simple T-shirt, the look was finished off with a pair of old jeans and worn combat boots. Four years ago he had left this house, gotten into a black sedan and never looked back, that was the price his country had asked of him. After three tours with Marine Force Recon, a Purple Heart with three clusters, and a Silver Star; his beloved country wasn't done with him. So he had gone, first to Virginia, and then to North Carolina, leaned so much, discovered so much; so much that he wished he had just given the men in black suits who had come to get him, a firm "Fuck You" and gone about his business.

All the awful knowledge that he'd acquired was currently being run over roughshod by intense fear, discipline, and alertness that would keep him alive. Force of habit compelled him to first check in the reflection of the stolen car he'd parked five black down from his destination for any approaching persons that may shove a gun into his ribs. Slightly more confident that he was alone, John started down the street. His steps were rapid, head down, as would anyone who was caught in the cold rain. Three black down, he turned suddenly and sprinted across the street, pausing only to readjust the compact .40 caliber pistol in a holster secured inside his waistband.

How different he must look now, scars, fatigue, and recently, a beard all served to conceal his appearance from his hunters, and would likely have the same affect on the woman he had missed so dearly. He had no idea what he would say except that he loved her and was sorry. After a final glance up and down the street he knocked six times rapidly.
 
Valarie sat up suddenly, thinking she heard something. Emerald eyes glanced around the dark room, illuminated by the flashing blue light of a television left on. She ran her fingers through her dark hair, trying to discern the sounds that had dragged her to consciousness. She could hear the rain splashing against her windows, and in the echo of her mind, someone at her door.

Sitting up and wrapping her robe more tightly around her body she walked to her front window. She peeked through the blinds, she saw a dark figure standing just outside her door. She felt instantly alarmed, wondering if it was a robber of some sorts. Her sluggish and sleep weary mind eventually figured that knocking on the front door would be a stupid way to go about robbery. Still, she went to the other side of the room and dug through her purse for her pepper spray. Armed with the spray in her hand hidden behind her back she unlocked the door and opened it just enough to stick her head out and see who it was.

The very last person she expected to see. Not the same, there were scars and a beard, but defiantly John. She stood, emerald eyes wide with shock and jaw slack. A man she had never thought she would see again, who left her suddenly without a hope of returning or ever seeing him again, standing damp and soggy on her doorstep.
 
"Valarie." The name left his lips equal parts elation and self loathing. Leaving her here was the one thing he'd regretted more than anything. A second later the self preservation hardwired into him spurred him to slide past her stunner form and into the house, hating himself for how he was about to destroy her peaceful life for his sake. A booted foot closed the door behind its owner as he leaned back against the door, unable to take his eyes off of hers. "Valarie, I'm so sorry, I never should have left... I have got some people after me, nasty people. The people I went to work for double crossed me. You're the only person in the world left who I can trust." It was disgusting, the way he was forcing his problems onto her, leaving her no room for a decision. Finally, he stepped forward and wrapped his strong, corded arms around her and held her gently to him.
 
She still stood there in stunned silence as he held her. He was still as strong as ever, even as his arms gently held her she felt his muscles flex under his clothes. It felt exactly how she remembered, a sensation that teased an ache in her heart. After he had left she had missed him, missed him and hated him terribly. She would catch herself staring at the door, waiting for him to show up and hug her as he was now. But he never came, and eventually she stopped staring at her door. But him here now brought those darker days to the forefront of her mind. She knew she should kick him out this very instant, before he brought his hell along with him to her door. She didn't need that now, and she didn't need him to walk out on her again once this storm passed. But she loved the feeling of him holding her as much as she ever had, and her heart couldn't let her do it, even though her head knew this was a very bad and very stupid idea. She leaned against him slightly her head against his shoulder. "Take your shoes off before you track mud in my house."
 
A sigh or relief and resignation escaped his lips when she spoke, grateful and horrified by what he had done. There was nothing he could do to fix it now though. Reluctantly he released his grip on her,stepped back and unlaced his boots, leaving them neatly on the mat by the door. Rising again, John surveyed the house that he had shared with Valarie for so long, and then he'd thrown it all away. "Val, can we talk somewhere? I need to explain why I left." He gently guided her to the kitchen table and sat down opposite her. "I won't bore you with the details. You know I did some secret things in the Marines, well apparently the CIA though I needed to do some more.They trained m, and I did some things. Now someone wants me dead, they killed my team and they're after me. So here I am. I am going to work to figure out who wants me dead, but then I'm done. I never should have left, and now I'm paying for it."
 
'Some things, them, some one' he kept using such vague words, she could barely follow him, and perhaps that's what he wanted. Perhaps is was better she didn't know, after all, wasn't it just best she knew he was back, and that he was alive? A small nagging part of her brain told her it wasn't. "You sure its safe here?" she asked, trying to direct the question away from herself. Truth was though that she knew that if someone wanted to kill him, the easiest way was through her. She was no warrior, no fighter. Him coming here had put her in quite a bit of danger, a thought that made her emerald eyes narrow in agitation.
 
"It's safe as long as I'm here." He reassured her, taking her hand and holding his around it on the table. "But we need to trun the lights off and get to bed, it's better not to show anything out of the normal, not that I'm saying go to bed together or anything, I sleep on the couch, unless you would rather, uh..." He trailed off and shook his head.
((Bah that sucks,))
 
((S'ok, I'll end up doing that eventually ^-^))

She stared at him for a moment, her eyebrows arched high. She slowly pulled her hand away from him, not wanting to insult or hurt him, but she wasn't there yet. He'd hurt her, bad, and she wasn't going to forgive that right away. "You will be sleeping on the couch." she said, getting up to turn the TV off and lock the front door. "If there's anything you need, I'll be in my room." My room, she had said, a clear statement that things were different now.
 
"You know, your own foot doesn't taste that good when you jam it that far down your throat." John muttered to himself as he tossed the jacket on the rack and then himself on the couch. Drifting into an uncomfortable sleep John dreamed...
This fucking bastard is going to kill me, the though flashed through John's mind as he scrambled away from the knife aimed at his heart. Too bad no one had ever told him not to bring a knife to a gunfight. The pistol jerked quietly in his hand; the slide rocked back, the case rattled to the pavement, and the body of his attacker dropped, all louder than the release of gas from the explosion in the weapon. The Glock's powerful 10mm round split the skull of the assailant and splattered John with a particularly unpleasant mix or brain, blood, and bone.
"Fuck!" The expletive left his mouth as he sat up straight on the couch. Sun poured in the windows and he shot up, pistol in hand when he heard a knock on the door. "Valarie?" HE hissed up the stairs. Risking a glance out, he saw a mailman with a certified letter and jammed the weapon back into its place and opened the front door, signed an alias and took the letter up to its recipient. Knocking on the door of the room he'd shared for so long felt oddest of all about returning here.
 
She opened the door, clothed only in a robe, her dark hair still damp from her shower. "What is it?" she asked, catching the tone in his voice as he called her name. Her emerald eyes glanced down at the envelope in his hand. She took it it, guessing by the weight that it was another book. She set it on her dresser, going to take care of it later. "What's wrong?" she asked, noticing that he was tenser than usual, which was saying something.
 
"I thought it was someone after me. Almost shot your mailman. He has a great moustache by the way." He walked into the room, looking around to see what had changed. Not much, more pillows on the bed now, and some even had frills. He sat idly on the bed. "So Valarie, what are your plans for today?"
 
"I had to drop off a report at the office, but other than that, it's my day off." she said, wondering what he was getting at. She worked for an environmental consultant agency. The base he used to be stationed at had hired her to test the ground water. That was how they had met, her taking soil samples, manning a drill rig, 'playing in the mud' as she called it. She had taken to putting more time in at work since he had left, trying to find something distracting. "What are your plans, other than shooting the mailman? God knows what you would do to the paper boy."
 
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