Marcus didn’t feel his body fail and collapse. He felt the makeshift floor shift under his weight when he hit the ground. The cool London air wafted across his cheeks as his helmet tore away. Victoria hovering over him. She was talking. He could hear the cadence. The tone. It sounded like his head was in a fishbowl. Every noise muffled and far off.
She pulled him to his feet by one arm and a shoulder. He tried to help. He really did. Whatever synapses were supposed to fire to move his legs simply refused. After a couple of awkward steps with his arm around her shoulders, he didn’t hear the sound she made, but felt her neck vibrate against his chest as the growl escaped. She got him out of the tent, and then his world turned upside down.
The useless lump of meat that was his body flew for a split second before his stomach landed on her shoulder and she started to move. Fast. With the runes from the jumpsuit powering her, it was much faster than his stomach could handle. He heaved again, leaving a stream of bile in their wake.
His sense of time was severely skewed, but it felt like a long time before she eased him down onto a refreshingly cold tile floor. She stripped the suit off of him, the scent of his own sick mingling with the fresh lemony scent of floor cleaner.
“Hey.” She grabbed the sides of his face. His head had been rocking back and forth. Was he doing that? She was trying to get him to focus on her. Fuck, he wanted to, but his eyelids were so heavy. “You’re okay. I’ve got you. I need you to breathe.” Her voice was low and fierce, but breaking with fear. Was he not breathing? Cold sweat coated his skin. His lungs were on fire, surely they were working.
She got up, but before he could even worry about where she’d gone, returned with a bucket and a cloth. “You’re alright. It’s a panic attack.” She whispered to him. “I know it’s scary.” Dipping the cloth in the bucket, she began gently wiping the sweat off his face and chest. Her other hand slid into his and squeezed. “Squeeze my hand. Feel the cold floor on your back.”
It was a struggle to even hear her, but somewhere in his mind he realized that was the point. Her voice battled against the constant phantom sounds of snapping bones and sloshing viscera. Marcus gripped her hand as if his life depended on it, but she didn’t flinch. She gently squeezed and then released. Gently squeezed and released. The pattern continued until he was filling in the gaps where she wasn’t, and his heart rate slowed to match their flexing hands.
His head was still pounding, but his breathing had finally normalized. She rinsed out the rag before folding it up and laying it across his forehead.
“I killed a man.” Marcus whispered, burning hot tears filling his eyes.
Victoria rested a hand on his cheek, staring down into his eyes. “He would have killed us, Marcus.”
He blinked hard, blurred vision still struggling to return to normal. “I-I didn’t have to…I c-could have put him to sleep.” He took a shuddering breath, and tears fell from the corners of his eyes into his ears. “How am I any better than them?” Maybe he wasn’t. It was as simple as that. When push came to shove, and he needed to act…his father would not be proud.
“Marcus Tenneson,” she reached down and took hold of his chin to make him look at her. “You are the best living man I know. I won’t hear that shit from you.” Her eyes glistened, wet and angry. “You hear me?”
“I lost control.” The shameful whisper fell off his lips. “I could have…”
Pain flared across his cheek. As his head torqued to the side, his vision cleared immediately, but it took him a second to realize what had happened. His head turned back toward her where she was rubbing the palm of her hand with a little hiss.
“If you hesitated, I would be dead.” The corners of her lips tugged into a sad smile and she gently set her hand on the cheek she’d struck.
He wanted to argue. Or at the very least curl in on himself and let the cold tile devour him. But her warm palm on his face remained, grounding him in this place of pain and doubt. The damp cloth fell from his forehead, and she scooped it up with her other hand. She rinsed it in the bucket, rang it out, and replaced it gently, as if it were sacred.
“You saw what they were doing.” She whispered, gentle now, as she crossed her legs and sat beside him. “What you did…” she sighed softly and paused. “It fucking sucks, and you’re going to have to live with it, but you can’t measure yourself against those monsters.”
He didn’t respond. Just closed his eyes. Her words were a tiny life raft in roiling storm waters. He clung to them even as guilt threatened to capsize him. Letting out a slow exhale, he finally opened his eyes after a few minutes to look up at her. She pursed her lips, staring into his eyes for a long time as if considering something before giving a slight nod.
“When I was stationed in the Ural Mountains, we had this medic.” The memory roused a brief chuckle from her, the sound briefly soothing him. “Sweet kid, enlisted right out of college. He refused to carry a gun. Said it made him no better than the people firing at us.” Her thumb grazed his skin, moving back and forth on his cheek.
Marcus turned his head toward her slowly. Her voice had turned to something softer, almost hollow
“I didn’t get it at the time. I thought he was stupid. Naive.” Her other hand moved up to wipe at misty eyes. “I found out later he and his father had defended his hometown with two three-o-eight deer hunting rifles. He knew the weight of it. Better than I did at the time.” Her eyes met his again. “It’s a hell of a burden to hold, but you can’t let it eat you. He did the right thing. So did you.”
He wanted to believe that. In that moment, there was nothing he wanted more, but he wasn’t there yet. Silence filled the room. The fishbowl effect was gone. Replaced by a much more comfortable lull that allowed his body to relax, even if his mind refused. The fact that she believed in him provided something tangible. A tiny pocket of light in the distance. As long as it was there, maybe he’d be alright.
“I feel like I’m unraveling.” His voice wavered as he took in a sharp breath.
She didn’t hesitate. Didn’t pity him. She leaned down and softly kissed his cheek before laying down beside him. Her arm draped over his bare chest, and she pulled him to her. “Then unravel here, so I can hold the pieces together.”
He broke. There was no violent shouting or over the top sobbing. His shoulders trembled, his breath hitched, and his eyes let out slow, silent, constant streams. Victoria held him tight to her, fingers gently caressing his bare skin the entire time. Steady as a rock against the tide.
Marcus wasn’t certain how long they laid there, but it was long after the tears had subsided. The weight of her arm across his chest and her gentle, warm breaths on his shoulder provided too much comfort to want to move. Comfort that even in his wildest dreams he’d never considered receiving from Victoria Hernandez.
He squeezed his hands into fists and released them. The same hands that he’d used to bottle feed Kane had just taken a human life. As much as his companion said it was justified, it still didn’t feel right. They hardly felt like his anymore.
Opening his eyes for a moment, he glanced over at her. Eyes closed, strands of hair stuck to her cheeks and forehead with sweat, it was close to one of the most beautiful things he’d ever seen. Then he remembered her words. It felt like ages ago, even if it was less that twenty-four hours.
I’ve fallen for a fucking idiot.
It definitely wasn’t the time to talk about it now. He wasn’t sure his brain could handle that conversation, but the sentence hung there between them like a dangerous little package. Maybe it held all the happiness he could ask for…or maybe it was a hunk of C4 waiting to obliterate both of their lives.
“Do we have any water?” He whispered after a long while of the two of them curled up together in silence. Victoria rolled onto her butt and grabbed the duffel she’d dropped nearby. He took the bottle she’d dug out and guzzled it down in one go. “Thank you.”
“Don’t thank me yet. We’ve still gotta find somebody who can decipher this shit.” She lifted a sheet from the bag, studying it.
He only knew one person that would be able to do anything with that information, and he was not at all enthused about getting her in the loop with his little trip. Before they did that though…there was something else. “My sister can probably help.”
“Calliope?” Victoria asked.
“Yeah, she’s good with anatomy and chemicals and…” He waved his hand at the bag. “All that.”
Victoria nodded, taking the bottle from him and replacing it in the duffle bag. “Okay, I’ve got a guy with a plane to get us home. Just have to find a way out of London. Kinda lives in the boonies.”
Marcus grimaced and glanced over his shoulder toward the door, then back to her. “There is one more thing I have to do before I can leave.”
“Okay, what?”
“I need to make sure Ophelia’s alright. I don’t think her dad would hurt her…but I have to make sure. And if she’s not, I’ve gotta get her out of here.”