#codfanfic

The debrief lasted longer than Kyle wanted, but not more than he had expected. It had taken a while for Kate to walk through Alex’s information, for them to give their details, and for Johnny to fill in his side. He had seen the way Johnny’s eyes flicked about the room to try to find what he wanted to say at certain parts. As if he were trying to cover some intimate details that weren’t pertinent to what happened, but still did. Kyle had caught his eye as Price and Ghost debated with Kate about security measures at the house, and the smirk they shared told Kyle that they both had a similar, not so hidden secret.

When they broke for the evening, well morning really, John had stopped them all from heading to bed right away. They needed to eat, needed a moment to just breathe and be normal for a second. Celeste had made them all plates, and Johnny explained how she had been fretting about their lack of food and sleep for the past few days, making them all grin. As they stood and sat around the kitchen island, Kyle could feel the tension melt away a bit. Feel the soldiers in constant fight mode slip back under, and so it was just the four of them enjoying one another’s company. They would still be on alert, still waiting for the shoe to drop, but now that they were together, it wasn’t as hard.

“I’ll take first watch,” Johnny volunteered as he dropped dishes in the sink. “I’ve had more sleep than you lot.”

“Debatable,” Simon answered as he looked Johnny over. He knew he would have been up almost every night, barely sleeping. At least when it was the three of them, they could take shifts knowing someone else was around to have their back.

“Then stay with me,” Johnny said as he crossed his arms over his chest. “The couch out here isn’t half bad. There’s also a second bedroom back behind the office,” he gestured, looking between John and Kyle. “Has its own bathroom, though it’s not as nice as the main suite…Celeste already beat you to that.” He grinned a bit.

“I’m going to shower,” John said as he stood up, sweeping his hat off his head and running a hand through his flattened hair. “Go check on Celeste,” he offered to Kyle. The tone was knowing, and the smile reassuring that he was not bothered.

“Right,” Kyle said without preamble as he cleaned up his own mess and washed his hands. “You can wake me in a few hours,” Kyle stated to Johnny, to which John cut in that he would take second watch, that Simon and Johnny could have his bed. Of course, he would, because he knew Kyle needed a longer break. Had known he had hardly slept with the racing thoughts and worry.

Kyle didn’t knock this time as he opened the bedroom door, afraid Celeste might be asleep. Instead, he slipped in, shutting the door quietly behind him as he looked toward the bed to find her there. She was fast asleep, curled slightly on her side with her hand still half holding a book open. As if she hadn’t meant to fall asleep, like she had been waiting. He watched her for a moment, waiting to see if he had disturbed her, but she didn’t move.

Careful to not wake her, Kyle kicked off his shoes and dropped his bag near the wall, emptying out his pockets of everything save for a pistol on his hip. Even though they were in a safe house, he wasn’t going to be out of reach of a gun at any moment, and he knew it would be that way for a long time. When he was fully disarmed and down to just gym shorts, he wandered to the bathroom to get ready for bed before walking around the room, working on cutting all the lights she had left on, save for the bathroom. He wasn’t sure if she had the lights to try and keep herself awake, or if the dark had turned into something scary. The last thing he wanted was for her to wake up in an unfamiliar place, unable to see or know where she was. He would be there, of course, but she wouldn’t know that.

When he made it over to the bed, he slowly reached over Celeste to nab the book out of her hands. He slipped a piece of paper into the page she was on as a bookmark, set it on the nightstand, then gently worked the blankets out to cover her. She had changed out of the robe into a simple oversized shirt as a nightgown, and Kyle stared at it, recognizing it instantly. It was Johnny’s. An old ratty thing he wore on lazy days, so worn down that the collar was overstretched and wavy but also buttery soft.

While the bed was big enough to fit at least four people, Kyle resided himself to the couch in the small seating area. He knew it wasn’t going to be the most uncomfortable thing in the world, but it also wasn’t the worst thing he had lain on to sleep. While there was a perfectly good bed to lie in with John, he had promised Celeste he would come back, and he wasn’t about to break that.

As he moved to step away, Celeste mumbled softly, her eyes fluttering a bit as his fingers lingered on the nightstand lamp.

“It’s me,” Kyle said quietly before tacking on, “Kyle,” unsure if she would be able to discern his voice in her half asleep brain.

“Kyle,” Celeste muttered, reaching up to push the hair off her face. She had fallen asleep with it wet, she could feel it sticking to her skin and knew it was going to be an absolute mess to try and work out in the morning. “Time is it?” She asked, the words slurring together as she tried to find the alarm clock.

“Little past three,” Kyle replied, “I didn’t mean to wake you. Go back to sleep,” he said as he moved a bit to block some of the nightstand light as she squinted against the intrusion.

“Three?” Celeste asked before sighing, leaning back into the pillows.

“Yes,” Kyle answered, trying to hide the amusement in his voice as he watched her sleep addled brain try to piece everything together. “Still have some time to sleep. I’ll be right over there,” he gestured toward the couch.

“No, stay,” Celeste said as she looked up at him.

“I’m not going anywhere, just the couch,” he explained again.

“No,” Celeste stated again as she scooted back on the bed to give him room. “Stay here. That couch is awful.”

“I don’t know if,” Kyle started, unsure if this was wise. She was barely conscious. What would happen if she woke up and found him there and panicked? That was some boundary to cross without explicit consent.

“Kyle,” Celeste said, feeling a bit cranky that he was keeping her awake with this. “If you go to that couch, I am going with you,” she said firmly. “I waited long enough for you, now you have to deal with my snoring.”

“Are you sure?” He asked again as he hesitated, despite how much he wanted to crawl into those sheets and pass out.

“I will drag you,” Celeste replied, “get in bed. It’s big enough for both of us, so you can have your own space.”

“Personal space isn’t really my thing,” Kyle replied as he set his handgun on the nightstand and slipped into the sheets, dragging her body close to him.

She was warm, almost too warm, like Johnny, as he tugged her tight to his chest. Her bare legs instantly twined against his as she flung an arm over him. As he turned to reach for the lamp, he felt her huff in displeasure for being jostled around as he rolled back, wrapping his arm around her. She nuzzled down, and in less than two minutes she was back out. He could hear her breathing turn heavy and slow, and as he shut his eyes, grinning to himself despite the exhaustion. He was asleep not long after her.

Celeste woke suddenly.

As if an alarm had gone off or her brain had remembered something extremely important she had to get to. She shifted quickly, moving to roll on her back to feel someone there holding her tight against them. It was early morning, and sunlight was poking around the edges of the blackout curtains. She had fallen asleep when she hadn’t meant to, who knew how much time she had lost. Twisting to look at who was behind her, she bit back a small gasp of surprise to find Kyle there.

Her chest tightened at the sight of him. She had meant to stay awake, to wait for him to come back so they could talk, but she had fallen asleep while reading. It was coming back to her in fragments. She remembered waking up to Kyle tucking her in, something about a couch, and her demanding he get into the bed. That was very forward of her, she thought, and cringed a bit. But that had been it, really. She wanted him to get into bed to sleep, said the couch was uncomfortable, and that she was cranky for being woken up. Perfectly innocent.

Yet.

She could feel the way Kyle held her, his arm woven over her, his hand pressed against her stomach, keeping her tucked to him. His other arm was under her pillow, supporting both of their heads. And his legs were curled into hers, perfectly flattening her against him. His breathing was slow and soft, tickling the back of her neck where he had buried his face in her hair. It was an intimate way to be held, and she smiled a bit to herself as she looked down at his hand, where Johnny’s oversized shirt had bunched up, revealing her bare thigh and the hint of her underwear. But he was still carefully keeping his hand over the fabric, even in his sleep.

“Five more minutes,” Kyle muttered against Celeste’s neck, having woken up the instant she moved. Even his deep need for sleep didn’t override the alert instinct.

“We can stay here all day,” Celeste replied contentedly, not wanting to get up either.

“John may have something to say about that,” Kyle answered, letting his lips brush the nape of her neck as he continued to lie there with his eyes closed.

“He can deal,” Celeste answered, feeling goosebumps on her skin. “You need about ten more hours of sleep at least.”

“Had a solid four,” he answered, “that’s as good as twelve for me after the week I had.”

“You and Johnny are both so determined to run yourselves into the ground,” Celeste sighed as Kyle’s thumb gently began to run circles on her stomach. “There is nothing wrong with taking a break.”

“This is nothing on John and Simon,” Kyle replied as he felt Celeste shift her legs a bit.

“It’s not a contest,” Celeste said with a small smile. “Go back to sleep, I’ll stay with you like you stayed with me.”

“Mmm,” Kyle replied, pressing a sleepy kiss to her neck. “I don’t think I had a choice. You were very demanding.”

Celeste felt herself grow a bit hot around her ears at that. She had been very demanding. “I mean, I can go if that’ll help you sleep,” she said, adjusting a bit as if she were getting out of bed.

“Definitely not,” Kyle said as he tightened his grip. “I like having you right here.”

Celeste smiled softly at that, relaxing back into him instead of trying to move again. She let her hand drift down to where his was resting against her stomach and threaded her fingers loosely with his. Kyle shifted slightly behind her, not to move away but to settle in deeper, his face pressing more comfortably into the curve of her neck. His breathing slowed again, evening out as if he were trying to get back to sleep, but couldn’t quite get there.

“You’re really warm,” he muttered a few minutes later, voice still heavy with sleep. “Like Johnny,” he mused as he felt Celeste laugh a bit.

“Don’t be fooled, my feet are like ice blocks when I first get into bed,” Celeste answered.

“Good thing you went to bed first, then,” Kyle answered, stifling a yawn.

Celeste twisted a bit to turn her head toward him, her nose brushing faintly against his face as she looked over her shoulder. His eyes were half open, watching her through the last bit of sleep that was still holding on.

“You are supposed to be trying to get back to sleep,” Celeste said.

“I’m resting, close enough,” Kyle replied, grinning as Celeste gave him a small eye roll.

“If you don’t go to sleep, I am going to get up and lock you in here,” she threatened, even though it was an empty one. “Clearly you can’t focus on sleep with me here.”

“You’re not going anywhere,” Kyle answered as he grabbed her hip and flipped her over to face him so quickly that Celeste let out a squeak of surprise. Even exhausted and half awake, he was quick and strong.

“Fine, fine,” Celeste laughed as she reached her hand up to cup his cheek.

Up close, he looked even worse than the night before. The exhaustion hadn’t eased. If anything, it looked like it had settled deeper into him. But the smile he was giving her was enough to distract her from that worry.

“John wanted to regroup at nine,” Kyle stated as he watched Celeste lean up to check the clock over his shoulder. “How much time do we have?”

“About thirty minutes,” Celeste stated as she settled back. “Twenty minute cat nap then we can get ready.”

“I’m not going back to sleep,” Kyle stated as he watched her face, “not when I have a better idea for twenty minutes,” he smiled as he watched Celeste bite the inside of her cheek, as if debating.

He let his eyes flick to her lips before back to her eyes, waiting for permission, and when she didn’t pull away, he leaned in to capture her lips with his. He took his time, kissing her slowly, feeling at each passing second how she relaxed even further into him. How, when she opened her mouth for him to let his tongue slide in, she fully leaned against him, her fingers softly digging into his chest to hold him.

This was all he wanted, had been for some time. It had killed him to leave her on this mission and to go so fast. There were no lingering farewells, he hadn’t even been brave enough to kiss her goodbye properly. A subconscious fear that if he kissed her, it would be too final. He had known she was perfectly safe with Johnny, but Makarov had a way of ruining everything.

“Kyle,” Celeste sighed out as his kisses moved to her jaw and down to her neck, making her crane her head back a bit to give him room.

Where Johnny had been a quick house fire that made her want to pin him down on the couch and have her way with him, Kyle was a low white hot flame. It took its time, consuming everything, and before she knew it, everything was aflame. His lips felt like brands on her skin, and the soft chuckle he let out after she whined when he nipped her neck made her squeeze her thighs together. And he knew it too because his hand that was on her leg twitched at her body’s response, thumb digging into the soft spot on her hip.

“I can stop,” Kyle breathed into Celeste’s ear as she shivered against him, pressing a kiss to the soft spot just under it.

“No,” Celeste said, as if sounding terrified he would. “No, I don’t want you to,” she continued, her hands sliding around his neck to hold him to her.

Kyle moved his hand down her leg, hooking behind her knee to drag her leg over his hip so he could settle properly between her thighs. When she sighed into his mouth at the pressure she had been looking for, Kyle stole the rest of her breath away with a sound kiss, his hand gripping her backside to keep her tight to him.

Celeste’s body felt like it was finally waking up, finally ready for the attention she had been denying it. After Tristan’s death, the thought of sex hadn’t crossed her mind once for the first full year. Not even a small desire to tend to her needs flitted across her mind, the bedside drawer remaining untouched to the point she wasn’t even sure if the items inside worked anymore. It had only been a few weeks back that she finally felt the want to reconnect with herself in the shower. And for the first time in over a decade, her mind hadn’t been on Tristan during the act. But there had been no shame in it as she had thought there would be. She had expected guilt, tears, as she stood under the shower spray after she came down from the orgasm, but there wasn’t any. She had smiled. It had been nice, a release she didn’t know she missed until she did it.

Twenty minutes was not enough. She wanted more. Wanted to get lost in bed for hours, days. Celeste ran her hand down Kyle’s arm, curling her arm slightly behind her to grab at his hand, and he instantly released his grip. She could feel him ready to pull away, to roll away and apologize, but she stopped him, squeezing lightly as she guided his hand up under the bunch of her shirt to smooth up her ribs. His hands were pleasantly calloused, catching along her skin as he curled his fingers to lightly scratch at the sensitive spots, making her squirm slightly, then gasp at the friction she had caused for herself.

Kyle didn’t need to be shown what she wanted any longer. He let his hand glide up along her side, curving around to her back a bit to let his thumb brush along the side of her breast. It was a subtle touch, but he knew she was zeroed in on it like he was. As he stroked his thumb back and forth, going further each time, he could feel her twist into the touch. She wanted more. Fuck he needed more time. How long could he push it before someone came knocking.

“Please,” Celeste nearly begged as she pulled away from the kiss to look down between them to where his hand was. He was so close, and she couldn’t take the tension any longer. Just seeing his fingers move under the fabric was going to make her combust.

He didn’t answer. Instead, he moved to cup her breast fully, matching her stuttering intake of breath with his own exhale. She kissed him again then, feverishly, as he gently squeezed, letting his thumb find her nipple and trace small circles over it. Her breath was hitched, but he didn’t relent, enjoying how she was fighting to continue to kiss him and not pull away to moan. She didn’t have to fight long, though, because it was him who had to pull away first, a groan slipping from his lips as she began to rock her hips against his, grinding herself against his length.

“We only have a few minutes,” Celeste gasped out as Kyle rolled onto his back, pulling her on top of him, with an obvious intent to keep this going.

“I don’t mind running a few laps if we’re late,” Kyle replied with a grin as he reached up to brush some hair out of her face.  

“As long as I don’t have to run,” Celeste said with a grin as she braced her hands on his shoulders to steady herself, and kissed him, rolling her hips much more easily in that position.

Kyle let his hands explore, tracing down her spine, teasing along the elastic line of her underwear, and over the tops of her thighs. When she sat up a bit more, he let both his hands glide up her stomach to palm both of her breasts, giving him a small sneak peek at her soft stomach. She was entirely too clothed for his liking. He wanted to feel her skin against his, to memorize every inch of her with his fingers and lips. To see her body react to his touch.

“Can I see you?” Kyle asked after a moment as she arched into his ministrations, her head tossed back to the pleasure.

When Celeste shifted to look down at Kyle she felt a small hesitation in her mind, a moment of self consciousness at being exposed that way. He was shirtless under her, the only stitch of clothing he had on was gym shorts, which didn’t leave much to the imagination as his hardness rubbed over her overly sensitive clit. It was only fair to match him. Then, when he gave her a smile, a genuine, encouraging one that had no pressure behind it, she agreed. Ignoring how her hands felt like they were shaking, she reached down to grab the hem of her shirt, Johnny’s shirt, and tugged it up quickly. She didn’t want to back out, not really, and she was afraid that if she went too slow, she’d stop.  

She was beautiful.

It was cliché, but it was the truth, and the only thing Kyle could think of as he looked at her. Her curves were gentle, cinching in a bit at her waist only to flow out again at her hips. His eyes spotted a delicate script tattoo on her ribs that he couldn’t quite make out at the angle he was at, and an old scar right under her collarbone he had never seen before. He didn’t stare long, even though he wanted to memorize every inch of her, because he could see how nervous she was. She was almost holding her breath with her eyes pinched shut, fingers still clasping the fabric of the shirt as if ready to cover herself at any moment.

“Celeste,” Kyle said quietly as his fingers splayed on both her thighs, gently squeezing them to get her attention. “Look at me,” he continued, shifting a bit to push up on his elbows.

“Sorry,” Celeste murmured as she peeked her eyes open, afraid she had ruined the moment.

“No need to say sorry,” Kyle said. “You’re beautiful,” he stated, and he felt her resist, saw her start to open her mouth to protest. “No,” he insisted, cutting off her words.  “You are beautiful, and I am so fucking lucky.”

“I,” Celeste started. What did she say to that? Thank you felt egotistical. Saying no would be a lie, she knew she was at least a bit attractive, and she had confidence enough to know she was. But sitting there under Kyle’s gaze felt different. He wasn’t looking at her like he wanted something more from her, but that she was genuinely someone he did feel privileged to be with in this moment.

“You don’t have to say anything,” Kyle answered after a second, not wanting to make her more flustered. “I don’t need you to agree with me because I already know I’m right,” he teased, hoping to lighten the moment.

A small laugh escaped Celeste before she could stop it, carefully tossing the shirt to the side. “Full of yourself,” she mumbled, which in turn made him grin.

“Mmm, I mean, you could be full of me too. Only need to ask,” he taunted, hoping to get her to let her guard down again so they could get back to what they were doing. He didn’t want her to get into her head, she'd lived there for too much of her life as of recent, and he wanted her to let go for both of their sakes. As her eyes widened, he shifted so they were seated together, letting her wrap her legs around him so they were pressed chest to chest, faces barely an inch apart.

“We don’t have time for all that,” Celeste barely whispered as she looked up at Kyle, trying to hide how much he flustered her as she wrapped her hands around his neck.

“It wouldn’t be right now,” he replied, nudging her head back with his own to capture her lips again, this time with a bit more fire behind it. “I want to take my time,” he continued, nipping her bottom lip, “and I need a full night to be able to do that.”

“A full night?” Celeste asked, feeling her stomach coil in anticipation at that.

“Mmm, and the morning after,” Kyle answered as he pushed some hair off her shoulder to kiss the spot there, “then the afternoon.” His voice was low as his hands grabbed her backside to pull her hips flush against his, taking a sharp breath as she pressed against his painfully hard cock. “Maybe we should make it a full two days. To be safe,” he reasoned as he continued to trail his kisses across her collarbone, letting her lean back to give him full access. She moaned loud enough that he was sure anyone in the living room would have heard when his lips finally closed around one of her nipples.

“Kyle,” Celeste gasped out, nearly climaxing as he darted his eyes up to hers with a smirk before he flicked his tongue over her.

“Yes?” He teased, giving her a perfectly innocent look even though he knew what he was doing.

“Tonight,” she nearly begged. “Please,” she added as he rubbed his thumb over her abused nipple.

“Tonight,” he agreed, knowing that getting through that day was going to be an absolute nightmare. The anticipation was going to be the death of him, but it also made it that much more fun. Especially knowing he was leaving her craving more, and she was going to be suffering the same way.

“Now we'd better get ready,” he tried, but she didn’t let him get away that quickly. She grabbed his face with both of her hands and kissed him hard enough that he had to catch himself with his hands behind him to not fall back. He could feel her need with each kiss, each stroke of her tongue against his, and the way she ground against him.

“Oi!” Johnny called as he knocked hard on the bedroom door. He had held off the other two for as long as he could, distracting Simon with a shower and plying both men with coffee. But fifteen minutes was as much as he could get, military men were sticklers for time. “Let’s go, Simon’s hungry and we all know what happens when we don’t feed him.”

“Piss off,” Simon huffed from the couch. He was well aware of what was happening in the bedroom. He could hear the moans and pants in every quiet moment on the television, which prompted him to turn the volume up a few more notches as he scratched Samson’s ears.

“Shit,” Celeste panted from where Kyle had rolled her under him.

“This is your fault,” Kyle teased as he gently kissed her sternum and scrambled off her. “Distracting me.”

“Who distracted who!” Celeste hissed as she scooted off the bed to go find clothes.

“I believe it was you who said please so prettily,” he pushed, ducking as Celeste threw Johnny’s shirt at him as she darted to the bathroom.

He dressed relatively quickly, a pleased grin plastered on his face as he walked out of the bedroom with a toothbrush still in his mouth. The look he got from the other three men nearly made him laugh. There was no embarrassment or hiding around them. Still, he was glad he exited the room first to let them get their exchanges out before Celeste made an appearance.

“Did you get any sleep?” Johnny asked with an eyebrow raise.

“Some,” Kyle ventured as he wandered to the kitchen sink to spit and rinse his mouth. Two cups of coffee were waiting for him and Celeste, made the way they both liked it. “May need a nap for later.”

“Slag,” Johnny answered with a laugh.

“You don’t get to say anything,” Kyle replied to Johnny as John walked over to fill his own cup.

“How is she?” John asked, then quickly expanded at the look Kyle gave him, “I mean, with all this. Does she seem alright after everything?”

“Sure,” Kyle replied with a laugh, “she seems alright. Worried but,” he shrugged, “we all are.”

“What’s the plan?” Kyle asked as he moved to the couch.

“We’ll go over it when Celeste is here,” John said as he took a seat on Kyle’s other side, letting their knees press together as he relaxed into the cushions.

Celeste readied herself as fast as she could, giving up on trying to do anything with her hair. Between sleeping on it wet, Kyle running his hands through it, and mussing it up in the pillows as they messed about, it was a disaster. She tossed it up into a ponytail, and after a quick glance at the weather for the day, warm and slightly humid, she pulled out a sundress.

“Sorry I’m late,” Celeste said as she walked out of the bedroom, doing her best to not flush as all four of them looked at her. “I, ah, we overslept,” she lied lamely. To their credit, none of them pressed her on it, and instead, they just nodded, and Johnny gestured to the last cup of coffee on the counter for her. “I can call down for breakfast,” she offered before quickly going to the kitchen area to grab the drink and down about half of it in her nervous energy, then placing their food order. Pretty much the entire menu, some of it doubled.

“We head back today,” John said after they had all eaten their way through all the food, plates piled precariously on the coffee table. “Johnny and Celeste will take the car they drove here back to the village to pick up her car. You’ll drop it where you picked it up, walk back to Celeste's car, and go home. Tire has been changed already, and it’s ready to go,” John explained. “We will be taking a separate car right home. We’ll get in about two hours before you,” he paused, looking at Samson, who was currently begging him for bacon. “We’ll take Samson,” he offered, “Johnny filled us in on the ride here, and since yours will be longer…well, Makarov will know something is up already, a cat won’t change much.”

“He’ll probably be perfectly fine with Simon,” Celeste said, her voice jokingly bitter. “Is there anything we need to be worried about?”

“Always,” Simon answered for John. “But directly at the moment, I don’t think so. Makarov will be spending his time trying to figure out how we snuck past him. And trying to figure out what we gained from this. I don’t think he’s going to be lying in wait.”

“But that is why we’re going to get there ahead of you,” Kyle answered, “so we can do a clean sweep. Check the security footage and make sure it’s all clear.”

“When do we leave?” Celeste asked, but she already knew the answer, judging by the bags at the front door. They were ready to go now and get back home. Anxious to be home and also about what they could possibly find.

“We’re going to head out now,” John said as he looked at Johnny. “You all will leave out the back with shift change,” he checked his watch, “which is in about thirty minutes. It gives you more cover to slip out without too many eyes on you. The longer we can shake any type of tail, the better.”

“I need to go pack then,” Celeste muttered as she stood up, smoothing out her dress and missing the fact that four sets of eyes watched her walk away.

“Almost wish you were me, huh?” Johnny teased Simon, who shoved him as he got up off the couch.

“Keep it tactical,” Simon huffed. “You’ll be on your own again.”

“I did fine the first time,” Johnny answered as he went to find Samson’s carrier.

The three men left much in the way they came in, except they weren’t armed to the teeth to the visible eye. They were in civilian clothing, but there were weapons within easy reach on all of them. Samson was quiet in his carrier, Simon having drugged him earlier that morning without much fanfare. Johnny and Celeste followed not long after, slipping out the back stairs with the cleaning crew and into the sleek black car they had driven there.

“My car really is a shit box,” Celeste sighed after about ten minutes of being in it on their way home. It wasn’t nearly as smooth on the road as the one they had borrowed, and the engine was much louder.

“Don’t admit that to Simon,” Johnny said as he navigated between cars, pushing the speed limit. “Or he’ll get you a new one and happily take this to the junk yard.”

“He wouldn’t,” Celeste answered, a bit shocked, but at the knowing look Johnny gave her, she knew he was right. “I couldn’t accept a new car,” she continued, even though it would be nice.

“You wouldn’t have a choice,” Johnny stated, “Simon doesn’t exactly listen or take no for an answer.”

“So I’ve learned,” Celeste replied.

When they got back to the house, John was the first out of the car, pistol on his thigh, loaded with one in the chamber as he walked to the front door. Simon had tapped into the cameras when they were within an acceptable range and had already started scrubbing the footage. There had been nothing of note at either of their places, but they still weren’t taking the risk. They swept their place first, letting Samson out in the living room to explore on his own before going over to Celeste’s, leaving the door cracked for him to come home when he was ready.

“Clear,” John called from Celeste’s bedroom, as Kyle echoed it from down the hall, and Simon confirmed with a hand gesture from where he checked the detached garage, when John looked out the window.

They set up camp in Celeste’s house while they waited for Johnny and Celeste to get there, Simon obsessively checking the phone tracker for their location. They had to make a stop at the Café for Celeste to continue to lay down her cover story. Apologize for the car issues she had, suck up to those that were there, find out her schedule, and pick up her check. Everything needed to look normal to everyone in her life to avoid any questions from them. It was bad enough trying to trick Makarov, small town gossip was a whole other beast.

“Dinner,” Johnny called from the front door as he heaved the bags of food, letting Celeste slip past him before kicking the door shut.

“Everything good?” John asked as Celeste kicked off her shoes and went to the sink to wash her hands.

“All fine at work,” Celeste replied. “Carl didn’t really care. Andrea looked pissed as hell,” she smirked at John over her shoulder, “she had to actually work for once. But I think they all bought the story. I let Johnny throw some big mechanical words at them, and they stopped asking questions.”

“Sounds about right,” Simon replied as he snatched a sandwich out of Johnny’s hands as he tried to lay everything out.  

“What about here?” Johnny asked as he tossed a wrapped sandwich to Kyle’s waiting hands. “Anything?”

“All quiet at first glance. No evidence of visitors,” Kyle replied, “we’re going to do a closer look again to make sure we didn’t miss anything small.”

“Do you think we pulled it off then?” Celeste asked as she leaned against the counter, waving away John’s offer to take his chair. She had been sitting in the car for hours, she wanted to stand and stretch out a bit.

“Time will tell,” Kyle answered, “but for now I think it’s safe to call it a win that we are all here in one piece.”

As three of them pored over computers, rolling footage back and forth, and John tapped away at paperwork, Celeste cleaned up dinner. She balled up all the wrappings and stuffed them into her overflowing trash. In their haste to get out a few days prior, they hadn’t taken the trash out, and the smell that hit her in the face made her flinch. It needed to go out.

“I’m going to run this to the road,” Celeste said as she yanked and fought with the bag to get it out of the container. “I can do it,” she stated as Johnny rose from his seat as if he would take it. “It’s just to the road. I can grab the last of our stuff from the car, too.”

Their hands had been full with dinner that they had left a duffle in the backseat and had said they’d get it later.

“Pull up the camera,” she teased as Johnny still tried to fight her.

“Fine,” Johnny sighed as she lugged the bag out of the kitchen and to the door.

It was still warm outside, even with the sun so low in the sky that it barely gave off any light. The bugs were out in full force, and she could hear a few boat motors on the lake in the distance. Summer was starting to wind down. There would be the final surge of tourists to get in the last few weeks of the holiday before kids went back to school. There was always a small lull at the start of August, then the place would be overflowing with kids and families.

She tossed the bag into the can and paused for a moment to pluck a few weeds from around the platform before wandering to the car. It really was a beautiful time of year, and the rain was holding off for the most part. The lake helped keep things cool, the wind rushing off of it helping to keep everything cool. Perhaps she could convince the guys to take a small break and go down to the dock for a few hours. The water should be warm enough for a swim, even for her.

As she popped open the car door to get the duffle, she heard something in the bushes, making her stomach drop. The dread of someone sneaking up on her sluiced through her as she turned around quickly, prepared to yell or run. But there was no person there. Instead, the bushes rustled again before a small dog's head poked out. One of Mrs. Nettles' dogs had gotten out and was stuck in the bushes again. They liked to chase small birds and rodents, but their fur would get all tangled in the branches, and they couldn’t get back out.

“You scared the hell out of me,” Celeste breathed, hand on her hammering heart as she shut the car door and wandered over to free the dog. It was too dark to see much, but she managed to break a few branches and free the dog, who jumped easily into her arms, trembling a bit.

“Sneak out again, did you?” Celeste mumbled as she petted the dog's head. Mrs. Nettles was annoying, but the dogs weren’t so bad. It wasn’t their fault their owner was the way she was. “Lucky I found you before your mum did.”

Hiking the dog tighter under her arm, Celeste headed up to the road to walk over to Mrs. Nettles' drive to return the dog home.

“Went for a swim too?” Celeste asked as the dog whined and wriggled in her arms. Their paws and belly were all wet. “Naughty thing,” she teased as she walked down the gravel drive, a twin to her own.

The lights inside were all off, and Celeste paused for a moment. If the woman was in bed, she was about to wake her and probably be yelled at, even though Celeste was being friendly and returning the dog. She could feasibly keep the little guy that night and bring it back in the morning, but her luck, Mrs. Nettles would accuse her of dognapping. Maybe she should go get John and make him return the dog. Mrs. Nettles at least liked him.

Celeste rang the bell, then hesitated again. The bell sounded too loud to be inside. When she looked closer, the front door was ajar. She could hear the other dog inside scrambling around inside, yipping and bumping at the door.

“Mrs. Nettles?” Celeste called as she nudged the door open with her shoulder.

The house was completely dark. No television. No lamps. Not even a hallway nightlight or electronic clock.

“Hello? Mrs. Nettles?” Celeste tried again, her brain beginning to whine that something was wrong. She was an old lady. Maybe something had happened, and since she was so foul to everyone around her, no one bothered to come check on her.

The second dog came skittering around the corner again, nails scrabbling on the floor as it launched itself at her legs. It was barking frantically, spinning in a circle, before it took off down the hallway again. Barking the whole way.

Something was wrong. The dog was trying to tell her something was wrong.

She needed light.

Reaching out her fingers felt along the wall until they found a light switch. She flipped it on, wincing at the sudden blast of the LED lights. For a moment, her brain didn’t understand what she was seeing. A dark stain covered the floor. It was all over the entryway, a dark puddle that smeared down the hall as if something were dragged. There were dog prints dancing around in it. When the dog in her arms squirmed hard, to either be let down or to burrow tighter into her, Celeste looked down automatically.

The white fur wasn’t wet. It was soaked. It’s paws, belly, muzzle. All of it was absolutely covered in blood. Her stomach dropped as she looked at herself. Blood was smeared across her forearm where she had been holding it, across the front of her dress where it had wriggled, and on her legs where the other dog had jumped on her.

“Oh God,” Celeste groaned, feeling her stomach churn.

The blood trail continued down the hallway before disappearing to the right toward the living room area. Every instinct told her to run. But what if Mrs. Nettles were alive, bleeding, and in need of help.

“Mrs. Nettles!” Celeste called out as the ringing in her ears got louder. She hurried down the hall, her simple thong shoes sliding in the puddle of blood.

The living room opened in front of her, and she found the light and flipped it on. There Mrs. Nettles was. She was sitting in her armchair that faced the window, the same one she always sat in to patrol the street. The same spot Celeste had seen her in hundreds of times and had sarcastically waved to as she passed by.

For one second, Celeste tricked herself into thinking she was sleeping. But then she saw the blood that covered her chest, well, where her chest used to be. It was a twisted, tangled mess of flesh, and the smell of rot hit Celeste hard enough in the face that she dry heaved. There was blood all over the room leading to the chair, and she could see the trickle down the woman’s cheek where someone had given her a headshot to be sure she was truly dead.

The dog slipped out of her arms as she staggered away. She barely heard the yelp of disagreement as it hit the floor. She was running for the door, the scream tearing from her as she went. She couldn’t get the image out of her head, the smell from her nose. She screamed the whole way to the door, and when she made it across the threshold, she yelled again. This time a name.

“John!” She yelled loud enough that it felt like it was tearing her throat from the inside, certain she would spit up blood. Why she yelled for him of all of them, she wasn’t sure, but she screamed it again a second time. She didn’t even get to the third before he was busting through the trees that lined the property, gun drawn.

“Where?” He asked, his eyes roaming over her body, searching her for injuries since she was covered in blood.

“In-inside,” Celeste barely got out before she threw up everything she had eaten into the potted plant on the doorstep.

======================

Y/N's jaw tightened. She had expected this, but hearing it from her father, of all people, still stung. She had spent years proving herself, working her way up through the ranks, sharpening her skills. But nothing was ever good enough for him. He was always the General first, her father second.

“I don’t need your permission,” Y/N replied, her voice calm but firm. “I’ve been offered a position, and I’ve accepted it. This isn’t about you, Dad. It’s about what I can do—what I need to do. Task Force 141 handles the missions no one else can. I want to be part of that.”

Shepherd leaned back in his chair, his fingers drumming lightly against the desk. His steely eyes never left hers as if searching for any hint of hesitation. But there was none. Y/N had made up her mind.

“You think you can make a difference?” he asked, his voice tinged with disbelief. “You think you’re ready for that kind of pressure? Those men—they’re not like the others. They far from what you're used to at the Shadow Company with Graves."

“I know that,” Y/N replied, her voice steady. “And that’s exactly why I want to be there. I want to be part of something that bigger. I've been personally requested by the Captain, that means my skills are needed.”

Her father’s gaze softened, just for a moment, but the hardness quickly returned. He stood, walking around the desk to stand in front of her. He placed a hand on her shoulder—a rare gesture of acknowledgment—and gave her a look she couldn’t quite place.

“I won’t be there to protect you, Y/N,” he said, his voice quieter now. “But I’ll be watching. Don’t get yourself killed.”

Y/N nodded, a mix of determination and apprehension swirling in her chest. “I won’t, Dad. I’m not the same kid I used to be.”

As Y/N stepped out of her father’s office, she felt the weight of his words heavy on her shoulders. But she had already made her decision. General Shepherd might not agree, but that wasn’t going to stop her. She didn’t want to be defined by her last name or her father’s legacy. She wanted to make her own path, to be part of something bigger than herself.

-

Y/N arrival at Task Force 141’s base was met with a mixture of wary glances and low murmurs. She had known this would happen. Being the daughter of General Shepherd, a man whose name carried weight—and not the good kind—wasn’t something easily overlooked. But Y/N wasn’t here to live in her father’s shadow. She was here to carve out her own path. To prove she wasn’t just the General’s daughter.

As she stepped into the briefing room, her boots echoed against the cold concrete floor, sending a brief shiver down her spine. She straightened her posture, eyes locking with Captain Price’s. His authoritative presence was unwavering, yet there was a warmth in his handshake when he greeted her. His piercing blue eyes gave her a brief once-over, as if measuring her up.

“Sergeant,” he greeted her with a nod. “Glad you could join us.”

Behind him, the rest of the team stood—Soap, Gaz, and Ghost. The first two shot her curious glances, sizing her up with an almost casual interest, but Ghost’s unreadable expression hid whatever thoughts he may have had. He didn’t even acknowledge her at first, his gaze never leaving the wall as if he was already deep in thought, or perhaps just uninterested.

Soap couldn’t resist. “So, the General’s lass, huh? We’ve got royalty in the house,” he said with a grin, his tone light, but tinged with the usual banter he liked to throw around.

Gaz, however, was quick to elbow him in the ribs. “Lay off, mate. Let her settle in first.”

Price raised a hand, silencing the room. “I know who your father is, Sergeant,” he said, locking eyes with Y/N. “But that doesn’t bother me. You’re here because you’ve earned it. And you’ll be expected to do the same as everyone else. I don’t care about your last name. I care about your results. Understood?”

Y/N gave him a firm nod, her back straightening even more. She could feel the weight of her father’s reputation bearing down on her, but Price’s words were a small comfort. She had no intention of living up to anything except her own standard.

“Understood, sir,” she replied, her voice steady, betraying none of the uncertainty she felt beneath the surface.

-

As the briefing wrapped up, Captain Price dismissed the team with a simple, “Gear up and be ready for mission briefing by 0600 tomorrow.” The group began to disperse, each moving with a sense of purpose that made Y/N feel like an outsider. This was their territory, their dynamic. She was the new piece trying to fit into a puzzle that already seemed complete.

She lingered in the room for a moment, glancing at the current mission board on the wall. It was covered in maps, photos, and notes scrawled in shorthand she didn’t recognize. The weight of her decision to join Task Force 141 pressed against her chest, but she pushed it aside.

“You’re staring pretty hard at that board,” a Scottish accent broke the silence, and Y/N turned to see Soap leaning casually against the doorway, arms crossed and an easy grin on his face. “Trying to memorize it already? Or just lookin’ for your name?”

Y/N smirked despite herself. “Just getting a feel for how you all work,” she replied, her tone light but measured. “Don’t worry, MacTavish. I’ll catch up.”

“Call me Soap,” he said with a chuckle, pushing off the doorway and walking over to her. “And you’ll do fine. Just don’t let the big man over there scare you.” He nodded toward the corner where Ghost had been standing quietly, his face hidden behind the skull mask that made him as intimidating as his reputation suggested.

Y/N glanced at Ghost, whose posture was as rigid as ever. His arms were crossed, and he seemed content to stay in the background, watching but never engaging. She wondered what kind of person he was beneath the mask. The others were open, their personalities easy to read, but Ghost was a fortress. A part of her was curious about what lay behind those walls, though she quickly pushed the thought aside.

“You mean the one who hasn’t said a word to me?” Y/N asked, arching a brow. “He doesn’t seem like the chatty type.”

Soap laughed, shaking his head. “Aye, that’s Ghost for you. Don’t take it personally. He’s like that with everyone—well, except Price. But give it time. He’ll warm up.”

“Doubtful,” Ghost’s deep, gravelly voice cut through the air, startling Y/N. He hadn’t moved from his spot, but his words were sharp, precise, and unmistakably directed at her. “This isn’t a social club. Focus on the job.”

The room went quiet for a moment, the air thick with tension. Y/N held her ground, refusing to let him intimidate her. If she was going to earn her place here, she couldn’t back down. “Noted, Lieutenant,” she replied evenly. “I’ll stay out of your way.”

Ghost didn’t respond, his unreadable gaze fixed on her for a beat longer before he turned and walked out of the room. Soap gave her a small shrug, as if to say, That’s just Ghost, before following after him.

-

As Y/N placed her last few belongings into the narrow locker, the muffled conversations from down the hall grew louder, her sharp ears picking out snippets of chatter. The tone was casual at first—lighthearted banter and jokes—but then her name came up.

“...did you see her? Shepherd’s kid, strutting in here like she owns the place.”

“Shepherd must’ve pulled strings to get her on the team. No way she made it here on her own,” another voice scoffed.

Y/N froze, her hands tightening into fists as the voices continued.

“Bet she’s never seen real action. Daddy’s little princess, playing soldier.”

“You think Price actually wanted her here? Probably had no choice. Orders from the top.”

A wave of anger surged through her chest, but she forced herself to take a slow, steadying breath. She wasn’t naïve—she had expected skepticism. Despite her expertise and experience, it was inevitable with her father’s reputation looming over her like a storm cloud. But hearing it said out loud, so dismissively, stung more than she cared to admit.

Grabbing her jacket, she made her way toward the common room, her boots heavy against the concrete floor. If they wanted to talk about her, they could do it to her face.

As she stepped into the room, the conversation abruptly stopped. Three soldiers—none she recognized—sat clustered around a small table, a deck of cards spread out in front of them. Their expressions flickered from surprise to discomfort as they noticed her standing in the doorway.

“Am I interrupting something?” Y/N asked, her tone deceptively light.

One of them, a wiry man with a sharp face, straightened in his seat, trying—and failing—to look unfazed. “No, Sergeant. Just…talking.”

“Right,” Y/N said, her gaze cool and unwavering as she stepped further into the room.

“You’re entitled to your opinions,” she continued, her voice low and steady, “but don’t let them get in the way of staying alive when the bullets start flying.”

The wiry man opened his mouth, as if to say something, but then thought better of it. The others exchanged uneasy glances, their bravado evaporating under her steady glare.

Without waiting for a response, Y/N turned and walked out, her shoulders squared and her head held high. The weight of their stares lingered on her back, but she didn’t falter. If they wanted proof, she would give it to them.

-

The rumors echoed in her mind as Y/N walked to the shooting range. The words were like a distant hum, relentless and sharp, cutting through her thoughts. "Shepherd’s kid," they had said. "Doesn’t belong here." "Daddy’s little princess."

It was nothing she hadn’t expected, but hearing it in hushed whispers behind her back made her blood boil.

Y/N felt the heat rising in her chest as the words from the soldiers echoed in her mind. Was she really just a legacy, a shadow of her father’s reputation?

The weight of her last name pressed on her like an invisible hand, threatening to squeeze the air from her lungs. But she refused to let them see her falter. She wasn’t just General Shepherd’s daughter. She was Y/N Shepherd. And she would prove it.

Determined to shake it off, Y/N made her way to the shooting range entrance. She needed to focus. She needed to feel in control again. The steady rhythm of gunfire was her escape, each shot a way to drown out the voices in her head.

As the pistol’s weight settled into her hands, the anger morphed into precision. She lined up her shot and fired, the crack of the gun sharp in the silence. One shot, then another, each round hitting its target dead center. The rhythm of the shots was meditative, almost calming, as she allowed herself to disappear into the routine of practice.

Bang! Bang! Bang!

“You’ve got good aim,” a deep voice rumbled behind her.

Y/N turned to see Ghost leaning against the wall, his arms crossed. His mask made it impossible to read his expression, but his tone carried a grudging note of approval.

“Thanks,” she replied, lowering her weapon. “Comes with the territory.”

He studied her for a moment, his dark eyes unreadable. “Heard about what happened in the common room.”

“Let me guess,” Y/N said, her voice edged with frustration. “You think they’re right?”

“No,” Ghost said bluntly. “But I know how soldiers think. New blood, famous last name—it’s easy for them to jump to conclusions. Doesn’t matter if they’re wrong. What matters is how you handle it.”

“And what do you think I should do?” she asked, her tone more curious than defensive.

“Show them,” he said simply. “Not with words. Out there. They’ll respect you once you prove you can keep up. Or better yet—leave them in the dust.”

Y/N turned, her fingers still tense around the pistol, his presence had made her uneasy, but there was something oddly reassuring in his presence now.

His words, though few, seemed to cut through the noise in her head like a blade, simple yet profound. 'Show them. Not with words.' She considered his advice, weighing it in the quiet of the range.

Was he telling her she didn’t belong here, or that she was exactly where she needed to be? Either way, the message was clear—walk, not talk. It was something she could understand. It was something she could do.

A sense of relief washes over her as she lets out a breathe.

Y/N smirked, a flicker of amusement breaking through her frustration. “That almost sounds like advice, Lieutenant.”

“Don’t get used to it,” Ghost replied, pushing off the wall. “You’re here to do a job. Just make sure you don’t give anyone a reason to doubt you. Including me.”

(This one is HEAVY on the grief and processing said grief. The ending is much lighter, but please be mindful). The silence was the worst part.

It was like losing her husband all over again, coming home to an empty house with no end in sight. Samson kept Celeste company, and she worked on the den in her off time to stay busy. But after all these weeks together, there were reminders of the guys all over the house. Johnny’s dead flowers, which had been replaced by fresh ones, were still in the den. The sun catcher from the fair that Kyle and Johnny conspired to secretly buy for her hung in her bedroom window, sending multicolored light across her bedroom walls every morning. John’s tools were still scattered in every room from the multitude of repairs he had done, even if she protested. And Simon’s skull bauble on her keys that he snuck on who knew when. She had told herself a dozen times to remove them all, pile them by the door as a message.

But she never did.

They were doing their best to give her the space she asked for. She had slammed that proverbial door in their face, and they hadn’t tried to breach it. They didn’t attempt to talk to her, try to catch her off guard in a conversation, or awkwardly show up when she was at work. But that didn’t mean they were gone. They would never leave her truly alone, not with Makarov still out there and a target on her back.  

But even with their abilities to not be seen or heard, Celeste caught hints of them. She had seen Kyle more than once lingering at the small bookshop across from the Café, at a safe distance, while she worked. After a double shift, she had come home to find the den’s floors were completely done and her squeaky shower head replaced.  Another morning, after falling asleep on the couch, she woke up covered in a blanket that she hadn't pulled from the closet. And the premade food in her fridge never went away, even if she ignored it. A fresh meal would replace the last one without a hint of annoyance that she was disregarding their efforts.

Each and every reminder and gesture was soothing, but when she thought of it for too long, it became painful. Hurt that she felt she had finally found solace in her grief, only to be thrown headfirst into it again. Ached at the thought of the butterflies from nerves of excitement turned into nerves of paranoia, afraid that Makarov was just waiting for his chance. But the worst was the stabbing in her heart when she realized this solitude was her decision, and the longer she pushed them away, the faster they would eventually go. No one would put in this much effort for someone who ignored them and shut them out, no matter what they said. They would grow tired of it and give up. And that thought terrified her the most.  

She hadn’t told anyone what was going on, not even Alice. The last thing she needed was to put her friend in danger, it felt like just saying Makarov’s name was a curse. Based on how protective and proactive the guys had been, Celeste was surprised he wasn’t just lurking right outside her door. He was the literal and figurative boogeyman in this scenario. And if she really sat with her feelings, Celeste realized she was angry. This person, who she had never known of, had ruined everything. And in her spiteful tossing and turnings in bed, she cursed him soundly.

But that night, there were other things to worry about. Tomorrow was her husband’s birthday. His second one since his passing. She had hoped this year would be easier, but it wasn’t any different than the first one. She was steadily getting older than he ever would be, he was perpetually stuck at thirty three. Forever. The thought made her chest feel like it was going to cave in, but she pushed through it. She had promised herself, promised him, she’d go see him. It would be the first time she had been to the gravesite since his funeral, back when there hadn’t even been a headstone.

Alice had offered to come, but Celeste quickly shot her down. If she were being watched, the last thing she wanted was for Makarov to see Alice, if he hadn’t already. Celeste knew Alice didn’t want her to go alone, for so many reasons, but the practicality of her friend getting there was out of the question. Alice reluctantly agreed because Celeste promised she wouldn’t be by herself, that she would get one of the guys to ride along.

“Leave it,” Celeste muttered as she sat on her bedroom floor, as Samson attempted to bite at the fake flowers laid out.

Flowers didn’t seem like the best option, but she couldn’t think of anything else. What do you take to a grave? Flowers. Letters. Pictures. All of it felt fake. Not enough and too much all at once. She finally forced herself to settle on flowers, going to a rundown craft store on the outskirts of town to pick them out. It was a mixture of a few things. Their wedding flowers, his birth month flowers, and an over the top bejeweled vase because it made her laugh in the misery, and she knew he would have found it funny as well.

“I am going to send you downstairs,” Celeste warned as Samson batted at a leaf before pausing to stare at her. “I’m sure one of them down there will keep you company.”

She couldn’t prove it, not without looking, but Celeste was certain one of the guys was currently parked in her living room. Or the kitchen. She knew they were there every night for extra security. Heard them come in and out sometimes and caught the glow of the living room lights when she wandered out of her room to check.

Settling on the arrangement after another twenty minutes of twisting it here and there, Celeste set it on her nightstand, next to the letter that had taken her days to write. There were things she wanted to say, to confess, and knew she’d forget them in the moment. All that was left to do was to send the text to the guys. The final, no backing out commitment that she had been avoiding for as long as possible. She knew they’d need a heads up if she broke her regular routine, and while she wasn’t fond of constant babysitters, it was better than being alone. Especially for what she was about to do.

I am going to York tomorrow morning. Sorry it is short notice but I wasn’t sure if I was going to go at all. I’d like to leave around ten. It’s a two hour drive.

She finished her parry of nervous texts with a link to the cemetery before silencing her phone and crawling into bed. Sleep was going to be fitful, so she was going to try to get as much as she could.

The next morning, she was already regretting her hard commitment to going. Her stomach felt queasy, and she was barely able to shove down some toast when there was a knock on the front door. Glancing at the clock, she saw whoever it was had arrived right on time. Letting out a shaking breath, Celeste went to the door, grabbed her keys, purse, and the small reusable bag with the flowers and letter, then opened it.

“I,” Celeste stopped short as she looked up to see Simon standing there. Of all of them, he was the last one she expected. Not that he ever gave the impression he didn’t care. It just didn’t seem something he would be comfortable with. Yet here he was. Dressed in slacks instead of jeans, and a nice collared shirt, still black on black as always. He had freshly shaved as well, and if she were to bet, it looked like someone had given him a fresh haircut and styled it. Probably Kyle.

“You didn’t need to dress-” she started as Samson went bounding for the door at the sight of his second favorite person.

“I did,” Simon said simply as he redirected Samson back into the house with a small pat. “I’ll drive.”

“No, I was going to,” Celeste stated as she held up her keys. In her nervousness, she hadn’t even thought about the actual driving situation. Of course, it was impractical to take two cars to go two hours away and back. But riding in one, after barely exchanging a single word with any of them, was going to be incredibly awkward.

“We’re not taking two cars,” Simon answered, “and I’m not getting in your shitbox,” he grinned a little. “I’ve got the Jag today. It’ll be more comfortable.”

Celeste looked around Simon to the sleek black car before looking back at him. She had so many other things to battle and worry about, she wasn’t going to argue this. And perhaps her driving wasn’t the best idea. Without another word, she stepped out into the warm, but overcast, day and locked her door.

The fear of awkward silence was quelled as they drove. Simon didn’t attempt to engage Celeste in any sort of conversation and instead let the soft music fill the void. He was always the quietest of the group, watching and observing, his body language and eyes doing his talking for him. And today was no different. She knew he was checking in on her, could feel the subtle glances as he changed lanes, but he didn’t push. He kept to himself and let her do what she needed to be as comfortable as possible.

“Do you need to stop?” Simon asked as he pulled off the motorway. It was another twenty minutes to the cemetery, but he had seen her starting to fidget and squirm. She had dressed in a black summer dress, but he caught the green ribbon that held together her loose plait. And the pair of wedding rings on a necklace around her neck.

“No,” Celeste breathed out as she wiped her sweaty palms on her skirt. “If we stop, I won’t be brave enough to keep going.”

Simon didn’t answer, just nodded as he followed the GPS's quiet instructions to the cemetery.

When the text had come in the night before, he had been the first to say he was going. No one pushed, though he could see the argument behind Kyle’s eyes as they all sat at the table. Kyle had dragged his mother from the pit after his dad died a few years back, which is how he knew what Celeste was going through before they knew the full story. Kyle was perhaps the best equipped to handle it when she needed to talk. But Celeste didn’t need Kyle’s reassuring words at the moment. She needed someone to hold her steady while she worked through her own words and thoughts that day.

“Do you want me to come with you?” Simon asked as he slipped the car into park. He had already memorized the walking path to the plot. He had found the cemetery map online and the family spot, which went back a few generations.

“I need to do this,” Celeste answered as she finally looked at Simon, her body feeling like it was vibrating from the nerves. “On my own.”

“I’ll be here if you need me,” Simon said quietly. He had parked strategically so he could see the plot from his spot. He had a gun in the side of the door, and the center console ready to go, and as she walked away, he set one gently in his lap. He had zero qualms about shooting out the windscreen if he needed to, though John may have a few objections.

The walk felt familiar, though Celeste barely remembered her husband’s service. It was like a memory that was hidden behind fog, where only glimpses made it through. The funeral planning had mostly been done by his parents, not because they seized control but because Celeste couldn’t. She couldn’t function, couldn’t answer, let alone make any type of choice. Perhaps it had been selfish to leave it on them to decide the final arrangements for their son, but there was nothing she could have done. They included her in every step of the process, but the only true choice Celeste had made was that she wanted a small urn for herself.

While her husband had been buried on the family plot, he had been cremated first. Just the ashes in the two person spot. She had planned to do something with the small thing of ashes she kept, but just like everything else, Celeste couldn’t bring herself to do it. Not yet. The small urn still sat on a shelf in her closet, safe, but out of sight.

Turning down the row from the main path, Celeste shifted her bag between her hands, forcing herself to keep one foot in front of the other. She promised him, promised herself, she would go see him. It was time. But when the first family name came into view, his great grandparents, Celeste’s feet faltered. She knew his plot was mere steps away, she’d see the headstone she had only seen in images when his parents selected it, and it would tear her apart.

Shutting her eyes for a moment to get the strength, Celeste kept walking before stepping into the neat grass. Two more headstones with more modern dates, his aunt and uncle, whose funerals she attended when she and her husband had just started dating, before his appeared.

It was pristine, bright. Too new among the old and aged stones. As if it were a beacon calling to her. And as she read the inscription, Celeste felt her knees give out, falling softly to the ground.

In loving memory of a son, husband, and friend.

“Hi, Tristian,” Celeste barely breathed as she reached out and traced his name engraved in the stone with shaking fingers.

She hadn’t said his name since the day they buried him. It was too painful to say it, let alone read or hear it. She always referred to him as her husband if it ever came up in conversation. Though for the most part, she avoided the conversation altogether.

Adjusting to sit more comfortably, Celeste pulled her bag into her lap and dug out the flowers. There was a small built in vase at the center of the stone that already had flowers. She knew his parents had visited him for his birthday, they had texted her the previous week with their plans. Celeste had purposely scheduled her visit to avoid them. Not because she didn’t want to see them, but because this time, the first time, she needed to be alone. And the last thing she needed was to see his parents’ cry as they all took in the fact they were all another year older, while he would forever be the age he was when he died.

The day was warm, if overcast and a bit breezy. Celeste knew it was a matter of time before the rain she and Simon drove in and out of on the way there would catch up. But she didn’t rush. She took her time to sit in the silence for a bit, listening to the birds and the wind blowing through the trees to steady herself. The hardest part, showing up, was already done. The rest would come when it felt right, and she could see well enough to read the letter she wrote.

“I’m sorry,” Celeste started after a few minutes of silent tears before coughing and clearing her throat, using the back of her hand to wipe her cheeks. “I’m sorry it took me this long,” she tried again.

She adjusted the vase of flowers, wedging a stray rock to help keep them from toppling in the wind. “It’s been a crazy year,” she murmured, fingers unfolding the letter in her lap. “The past few months, even more.”

Her hands shook as she read. She had to pause more than she talked, eyes flicking to the sky to try and blink back the tears multiple times. The start of the letter felt awkward, the words seeming insufficient for what she wanted to convey. The further along she went, the more she drifted from the letter and just spoke what was on her mind in the moment.

Her grief came out in jagged, hushed confessions. The things she was too afraid to write down, to admit to herself, poured out of her. The desperate aloneness she felt. The deep seated anger that burned hot enough to hurt before the guilt of the feelings quelled it. The fear. The days she found happiness. The nights that nearly killed her. All the ugly, beautiful, and painful things that came with surviving someone’s absence that no one warned her about.

Simon watched from his seat in the car, doing his best to not blatantly stare at Celeste’s private moment, but unable to keep his gaze away for long. He had seen her hesitation on the walk up, the way her knees buckled when she first reached the grave. His hand had gone to the door handle instinctively, ready to go to her, but stopped when she steadied herself. She wanted solitude, and he understood that need better than most. Grief often demanded privacy, but he was also aware of the danger of it. The fine line between mourning and self torture.

Deciding she was okay, Simon adjusted to get more comfortable and continued to surveil the area. He didn’t mind sitting in the quiet, windows down to let the steady breeze in. There were no other visitors, at least in their area. A weekday wasn’t a usual time to visit a graveside, which was why Simon always went during the week to see his family. He didn’t need an audience when he talked to his mother, brother, or nephew. He only recently allowed the team to join him in leaving flowers for Christmas, and that was after years of Johnny pestering.

After some time, the rain did catch up. The first drops were large, splattering against the windscreen in sporadic intervals as Simon rolled the windows up a bit. He knew Celeste had felt them, saw her glance up at the sky for a few seconds before going back to her letter. He was going to let her stay without interfering until the wind picked up and the rain started to whip sideways.

Tucking his gun into his waistband, Simon grabbed his jacket and an umbrella from the backseat before setting a quick pace to Celeste. He heard her voice before she noticed him, and he paused, standing at the edge of the path, not wanting to interrupt. Even if the words cracked something within him.

“You died,” Celeste choked, having abandoned the letter completely, letting her feelings do the talking. “You died, and I needed you to help me through it. I needed you to hold me together when I fell apart. But you weren’t there when you were supposed to be. You were ripped from me, and I had to navigate this alone.” She shuddered against the rain, her hands smoothing the stray hair plastered to her cheeks by the water and her tears. “And I am so angry about it all, Tristian. God, I am so fucking angry I can’t breathe from it. And lonely. No one knows what to do, to say. I’m stuck and I don’t know how to fix it. No one does, and I'm just so, so alone.” She paused to sob, collapsing forward until her head touched the soaked grass.

“But mostly, I’m scared,” she whispered to the ground after a moment. “Scared of what’s next and figuring out what I do with us. Do I put us on a shelf? In a box? In the ground next to you?” Her eyes flicked to the small spot that was left for her to be interred with him. How she wished she were there right now, not dealing with this. “My life was supposed to be with you, but you left me here alone, and I can’t do this by myself. I tried, Tristian. I tried for you, I really did. But I can’t do this by myself.”

“Celeste,” Simon said quietly as he walked up, bending down to drape his jacket over her shoulders. He couldn’t stand by any longer. She was falling apart right in front of him, and he couldn’t leave her to try to continue on by herself.

Celeste jumped as she felt something touch her shoulders. It was warm and soft, and the smell of a light cologne hit her as the leather enveloped her completely.  She hadn’t heard Simon approach or say her name, but based on the look on his face, he had seen she needed him.

“Simon,” Celeste barely choked, her voice raw as she sat up.

He didn’t answer as he crouched down next to her and pulled her closer to him, to get her out of the rain and under the umbrella. But also, to ground her. She didn’t fight the tug but instead leaned into it, letting him guide her back to some sense of stability.    

“I’m here,” Simon said as she gripped him, letting her fist her fingers into his shirt as she took deep breaths. “You aren’t alone,” he assured her, careful not to let on how much he heard but to let her know he had heard something and saw how she was falling apart.

“I know, I’m sorry, I just,” Celeste tried, wanting to explain herself even if she had no idea how to.

“No apologies,” Simon stated as he looked down at her, hand wrapping around her back to pull her into a tighter embrace. “Just don’t ever feel like you are by yourself. If it’s not me, it’s Alice, Kyle, John, Johnny. You aren’t alone. I promise.” When he felt her cling to him and bury her face in his shoulder, Simon held still and let her use him for whatever she needed.

As he glanced around to make sure no one else was in the cemetery, Simon's eyes eventually fell on Tristian's grave. He took in the fake flowers Celeste had arranged and the real ones he suspected his parents had left. It was a neat, no fuss, headstone. Tristian's name, the dates, and a small saying. But what caught Simon’s eye was the space to the right that was purposely left blank. The space where Celeste’s name was meant to go someday. His hand tightened into the back of the leather jacket that she was draped in as he fought off the queasy feeling in his stomach. She had come so close to having her name added early thanks to Makarov. She was still a target, still at risk, and the thought hardened Simon's features. He wasn’t going to let that happen. He’d be in the ground before Celeste was, and he silently made a promise to Tristan that his wife would be safe. No matter what it took. No matter the cost.

Celeste wasn’t sure she could cry anymore. Her body shook with the tears, but there were none left. Leaning a bit back from Simon’s chest, she looked up to see him staring hard at the gravestone behind her. It was brief as his eyes instantly flicked down to look at her.

“I’m ready to go home,” she said, hiccupping once as her body still shivered. She had nothing left in her, nothing more to say, and she knew if she continued down this path, it would lead her somewhere very dark.

“Of course,” Simon answered without hesitation.

Celeste was frozen, fingers like ice as she gripped his hand when he hauled her up. It wasn’t even a cold rain, but Simon knew it wasn’t the weather that had chilled her to the bone. He moved to let go, but Celeste kept her grip tight, lacing her fingers into his, and leaned against him as they began their trek back to the car. She didn’t say a word as they walked, just pulled the jacket tighter around her shoulders and held onto him like he was her only lifeline in a storm.

“Feel free to lie back,” Simon said after he had opened the door and let her get situated in her seat before going around to the driver’s side. “I don’t have any towels, but the seats are heated. John’s posh arse insisted.” He gave Celeste a small, encouraging smile as she leaned back against the seat, and she returned the gesture, even if it was an exhausted one.

“A much better ride than my shitbox,” Celeste replied quietly as she flipped up the collar of the jacket to better breathe in the soft scent of Simon. She was exhausted, mentally and physically, feeling like she could sleep for a year and it wouldn’t be enough. The idea of getting home and having to get out of the car seemed like a monumental task, and just the thought made her legs groan. She’d have to deal with it when they got there. One thing at a time.

“Told you,” Simon said as they pulled out of the cemetery and headed back home.

Celeste had passed out before they even reached the motorway. Simon peered at her a few times before he pulled his phone out and sent a few texts to the guys. They had been messaging all morning for updates, but Simon ignored them, save to let them know they had arrived and were leaving. When Johnny called, he took the call as quietly as possible, muttering into the phone in his ear, eyes darting between the road and Celeste to make sure he didn’t wake her. Her exhaustion was so consuming, though, that he was certain she’d sleep through almost anything.

“Up we get,” Simon coaxed quietly as he tried to extract Celeste from the passenger seat when they got home. The rain had followed them the whole way, and it was still sprinkling as he preemptively unlocked her front door and then came back for her.

“Are we home already?” Celeste questioned as she opened her eyes. Her head was pounding, and she knew her face was still puffy.

“Yes, you slept the whole way back,” Simon answered as he undid her seatbelt and helped her stand.

“I may need to get heated seats,” Celeste joked as she stood a bit unsteadily.

As always, Simon was there to help her, his hand around her waist as they walked toward her house. But when they got to the door, he stopped on the outside of the threshold. It took her a second to realize why, but then it hit her. She had been the one to create that barrier, and even after everything, he was still respecting her wishes.

“I’ll bring you dinner later,” Simon offered as Celeste stood in the doorway. Samson didn’t bother running out this time, he could see the rain, and he wasn’t about to get wet. “Get some rest.”

“Wait,” Celeste stated as she reached out to him to catch his arm. “Can you…come in? I don’t want to be alone, not right now. Unless you have somewhere else you need-“

“Nowhere else to be,” Simon answered as he stepped up the small steps to head inside, trying his best to hold back the swelling in his chest from her request. “I told you. I’m here.”  

“Then stay with me,” Celeste replied softly, fingers grabbing his hand to guide him inside.

Simon didn’t hesitate. He followed her lead to the couch, carefully kicking his shoes off and running a hand through his hair to rid it of stray raindrops. He knew Celeste had to be chilled. Her dress was damp, but she didn’t make an effort to go upstairs. She just bundled tighter into his jacket as she sat down and silently passed Simon the remote to put something on to fill the silence.

Once Simon sat next to her, Celeste sank into the couch, curling against him as he reached for a blanket to wrap them both in. Despite also getting wet in the rain, his body was warm and Celeste slipped her arm around his waist to get even closer. She could have sworn she heard him take in a sharp breath at her gesture, the only crack in his stoic armor, but she didn’t look. Instead she just rested her head on his chest and listened to his steady heartbeat.  

They didn't say anything in the long minutes that followed, letting the game on the TV distract them. There would be time to talk later. Time to figure out what came next for them, for all of them, and what to do about the danger of Makarov. But for now, Celeste just needed the quiet comfort of Simon beside her, and she was certain he was just as content to sit there holding her.

======================

This one was a lot. I worked, reworked, and worked some more on this chapter to get it right. I always envisioned Simon in this scene, but I did toy with John for a bit…both of them have seen heavy loss, and in my mind, relate the most. But John has enough going on, and Simon was just…perfect.

Celeste was in the garage, looking for an old bucket she could use to soak the tools covered in wallpaper glue, when she heard a car pull into the guy's driveway. Typically, she wouldn’t have even noticed, but the crunch of the gravel made her pause in her searching to listen better. Perhaps she was more on alert for any sign of them coming home than she let herself believe. When she was sure it was them, she dropped the box in her hands, clambered over the mess she had created, and darted out the open door.

They had barely parked, Kyle climbing out of the backseat, when she saw them. The excited butterflies erupted in her stomach as Johnny leaned on his door and waved to her, and while she couldn’t hear him, she knew he had told Kyle she was there by the way he turned on the spot to see her.

“Welcome home,” she called with a grin as Kyle smiled.

“This is a much better welcoming party,” Kyle answered quietly, so Celeste couldn’t hear, which made John laugh.

“I made some progress on the den,” Celeste confessed, “come by in a bit once you’re all settled. I’ll make dinner.”

“I thought we told you to wait,” Simon replied as he heaved his duffel out of the trunk and slung it over his shoulder. His gruff tone was completely undermined by the grin on his unmasked face.

“How was I to know when you’d get back? I promise I didn’t touch the flooring,” she smiled.

“We’ll shower, then be over,” Johnny answered, “you don’t want to be anywhere near us right now.”

“I’d argue with you on that, but I could also use a shower,” Celeste replied, feeling herself flush at the brazen confession that she had missed them. “Give me an hour.”

Celeste settled on an old planter in the garage to fill with water and threw all the tools in it. She had no idea if that would be enough, but at the moment, she didn’t care. She yanked the garage door shut, having to almost jump to get the momentum to get the door down before she headed inside.

An hour was a tight turnaround she had given herself, but she made it work, darting up the stairs and right into the shower. The house smelled of paint and glue, but she lit a few candles as she rushed downstairs to find something in the laundry to wear. Alice had done a good job folding and putting away all her clothes all those weeks ago, but Celeste had fallen back into old habits. All of her clothes basically lived in the laundry room now. She settled on a pale yellow sundress, one that had been too loose on her last year, but now fit perfectly. Simon forcing her to eat actual meals had started to pay off, her curves were finally filling back out, and her eyes didn’t look as hollow.

A soft tap on the kitchen door had Celeste turning from the oven to glance out the window. It had only been forty five minutes, yet Kyle was standing there. Trying to contain her grin, she opened the door and slid her glass of wine onto the counter.

“Hey,” Celeste breathed as she stepped aside to let him in.

“Hey,” Kyle replied as he slipped into the kitchen past her.

He had barely finished with his shower and dried before he was out the door. He figured Johnny and Simon were going to take that full hour to their advantage, so he wasn’t going to wait around for them. And things were still sticky with John, though the car ride home had been pleasant enough, falling back into easy conversation and simple teasing. Maybe going out into the field had been a good thing for them, though the idea of them having to face death to get their relationship on track had other implications. Ones he didn’t want to think about too hard. So he instead set his focus on Celeste. He had missed her more than he realized, the nervous jitters coming back when he pulled on his trainers and all but ran to her house.

“I just started dinner, so it’ll be a bit,” Celeste confessed as she looked up at Kyle, who lingered close, the smell of his body wash and cologne filling the space. “Did you want to go see the den?” She ventured, trying not to fidget or show her nerves.

“I want to see you more than the den. I missed you.” Kyle answered boldly, grinning at the shy smile she gave him.  

During their escape in Ukraine, Kyle’s only thought had been about Celeste. The fear that he wouldn’t get to tell her what he was feeling. That he wouldn’t be able to see her smile or the shy fidget she did with her hands when she didn’t know what else to do. All of those things scared him more than the bullets. He had silently vowed to himself once they were safe that he wouldn’t leave her again without her knowing what she meant to him. And if he were a betting man, he knew Johnny was thinking along the same lines.

“I missed you, too. It was too quiet without you,” Celeste answered before stepping forward to close the small gap between them and wrap her arms around him. “I was worried, not hearing from any of you made me nervous. I know you can’t when you’re working but,” she whispered against his shirt, as if it were a secret she was afraid to share.

That was exactly what Kyle wanted to hear.

His arms instantly went around her, hands bracing against her back as she held him tight. She fit perfectly against him, her head coming to rest at his collarbone, and without hesitation, he kissed the top of her head. He could feel her sigh and relax against him at the gesture, and he smiled into her hair as he held her.  

“Nothing is going to stop me or any of us from getting home,” Kyle answered. He knew that was a hefty promise, but it was true. All of them would fight to get home, not just for her but for one another. Luck, or karma, had seemingly always been on their side, no matter how dangerous the situation. Kyle credited that to the sacrifices they had all made, as if it were the universe's small way of thanking them for keeping the world on track.

“I’m holding you to that promise,” Celeste answered as she tilted her head up to look at him, resting her chin on his chest.

Kyle’s face was close to hers, dangerously close, and her stomach tightened with anticipation as his eyes roved over her face, flicking down to her lips more than once. Celeste swallowed, biting the inside of her cheek as her stomach did a somersault before she stepped back. As much as she realized she wanted Kyle, wanted more than quick hugs and sidelong glances, she didn’t want her first move to be a rushed kiss in the kitchen. She had already kissed him chastely after their date, which she later came to realize was what it was at the fair, like a shy schoolgirl.

Kyle did his best to not grin like an idiot, but he caught every reaction. How her breath caught, the hard swallow to steady herself, the way her lips parted with desire as if she were about to close that gap between them before she fled. He clocked the blush spread across her cheeks as she busied herself pouring him a glass of wine and saw the way her eyes lingered on his lips when she handed it to him. He knew her turning away wasn’t out of fear but shyness. And the fact he was able to rile her like that felt better than he knew her lips would. Maybe.

“What are you making for dinner?” He inquired as he stepped around her to peer into the oven, breaking the tense bubble. He’d give her a reprieve, for now. The chase was half the fun after all. “I hope it’s not a premade meal. Simon will never let you hear the end of it.”

“Oh, ah,” Celeste stammered, feeling the heat rush out of her cheeks before looking at the oven. “Baked chicken and veg,” she explained as Kyle looked at the large pyrex glass in the oven. “Rice when it gets a little closer to being done.”

“You’re going to need a full box. Johnny is wasting away on just the ORPs we were eating,” Kyle joked as he spotted the other three heading through the treeline. He wasn’t the only one who couldn’t wait to get to Celeste.

“There’s almost five kilos of chicken in that oven,” Celeste declared as the back door opened, “if you all are still hungry after that, you’re on your own.”

“Cooking?” Johnny inquired as he scooped Celeste up in a hug, his arms holding her a little longer than casual. “Not a microwave meal?”

Celeste laughed and swatted away his arms. “I know how to cook,” Celeste argued as she, without thinking, moved to hug Simon. “No point in cooking a meal for just one.”

“You can cook more and save it, you know that, right?” Simon asked, his voice giving away his surprise at Celeste’s almost instinctual gesture. Johnny’s stare and shit eating grin did not help, so he busied himself with pouring a glass of wine, even if he didn’t like white.

“There’s no such thing as saving food in our house,” John murmured as Celeste leaned against him from the side hug she had given him, her arm lingering around his waist.

“So I’ve learned,” Celeste answered softly, glancing up at John before pulling back some. “You’re too busy bringing it here to feed me.”

“Someone needs to,” Simon replied as he handed John a glass of wine.

“We’ve got a few minutes, come look at what I’ve done to the den,” Celeste instructed as she moved to dart out of the kitchen, hand grabbing Kyle’s wrist to drag him along. “Even if you hate it, tell me it’s nice,” she joked.

“Lying is not my strong suit,” John said as he followed, doing his best to keep his gaze off the bare expanse of her legs as she climbed the stairs ahead of them.  

“Bullshit,” Johnny answered John before he stepped into the den, eyes taking in the much darker room.

“It’s nice,” Kyle said as he walked along beside Celeste, careful to not get too far, he didn’t want her to let go of him. He wasn’t sure if she even knew she was still dragging him around, but he wasn’t about to pull away. “I like the blue.”

“It’s not too much?” Celeste asked, looking at the other three with a little uncertainty now. She noticed John had already gravitated to the built ins to look at her wallpaper job, his fingers brushing over the textured design. She had settled on a delicate ivory with gold ivy and leaves, subtle but still a break in the stark white. She chose gold as the accent, having already added lighting fixtures, rugs, furniture, and other decor to multiple online carts.

“Not at all,” Johnny said, eyes spotting the flowers he had given her before they left. They were long dead, but she still kept them in the vase. He’d need to bring her more.  “We need to get more light in here, though.”

“I already have that figured out,” Celeste answered to Simon’s raised eyebrow. “I’ll show you after we eat,” she smiled as John stood up straight again, having inspected her work and seemingly thought it passed. She wasn’t about to tell him that was the third attempt, and she had rage torn all her second attempt off and threw it out an open window when she realized it wasn’t straight.

“Just got home and putting us to work,” John teased, though his grin was soft. “You did good, didn’t even get any paint on the ceiling,” he noted as he looked at all the clean lines.

“That you see,” Celeste replied with a smirk.

As everyone looked around the room Celeste heard the oven timer going off, and she finally let go of Kyle’s wrist, jumping a bit as if it surprised her that she was still holding him.

“Still have a bit to go, take your time,” she said as she flitted out of the room and down the stairs. She needed a second to breathe, and it seemed the guys did as well because they didn’t follow her right away.

“It’s nice to be home,” Kyle said into the silence, to which the other three men pulled their gazes from the door Celeste had disappeared through.

“For more than one reason,” Johnny answered as he fingered the dead flowers, catching a petal that broke free, his gaze lingering on Simon, who was watching him just as carefully.

The table was set relatively quickly, plates and utensils were handed out and placed, while Celeste wrapped up the rice. John found himself watching Simon move through the kitchen, as if he lived there and had done it a hundred times before. He didn’t hang back, didn’t hesitate, and Celeste leaned into it. It struck John that Celeste had a way of steadying Simon. The man was so terrified of breaking something that he had never tried anything so delicate, but Celeste pushed against that. She was already so broken that it pulled the healer out of Simon and made him realize he wasn’t just made for destruction. She had that effect on all of them, if he was honest.

“Go on,” Celeste said a bit breathlessly as she took up a chair between John and Kyle.

The table was small, meant for a quick breakfast at best. It was not built for five adults, especially when four of them were so large it made the setting look like a child’s tea set. Johnny had dragged down an office chair to squeeze into, the table only providing four seats, but he didn’t complain. None of them did as they passed rolls and butter, knees knocking into one another under the table, and elbows rubbing as they cut up their food. Idle chatter filled the space, giving everyone a much needed breather from the lingering looks and shy look aways.

“What made you decide on the color?” Johnny asked as he leaned back in the plush chair after inhaling his dinner, swaying it slightly left and right since it swiveled. Celeste had handed her phone to the group and was letting them look at her decoration choices for the room.

“When I was painting, it was just too…blue,” Celeste confessed, “and the white was too bland.”

“So wallpaper?” Simon asked as he zoomed in on an intricate ceiling light fixture. He could already hear John grousing about it, but he’d never say no. “Where did you get it? It looked antique.”

“Funny story,” Celeste said as she poured herself another glass of wine, doing her best to not react to Kyle and the back of his fingers gently brushing against her knee. He had been subtle with it, just a grazing pass, testing the waters, while they ate. But when she leaned her leg into it, he didn’t stop. Or hide his grin.

“Remember how you told me I needed to get my car looked at before it died?”

“Yes,” Simon answered a bit deadpanned. He had warned her the shitbox would die on her if he didn’t get his hands on it.

“Well…it did,” she smirked. “But I got it fixed, don’t worry.”

“How much did it cost you?” Johnny asked, instantly sitting up from his lounging position. Mechanics were never shy about upselling people when they obviously had no idea how cars worked.

“Thanks to a friend, not too much,” Celeste answered as she sipped on her drink, her other hand sliding to loosely lace the back of her fingers with Kyle’s. The butterflies ratcheted up as he flipped his hand over and grabbed hers, engulfing it as his thumb swiped along her pulse. She had almost forgotten to tell them that Nik had been in town, her excitement and nerves at seeing them wiped everything else away.

“He took a look at it and told me exactly what I needed.”

“Didn’t realize Carl knew cars,” John muttered as he stretched behind him to put his plate on the counter to give them all a little more room. He had noticed the side glances between Kyle and Celeste, they all had, but he wasn’t going to call it out. Especially since the pink that was high on Celeste’s cheeks was too endearing to ruin.

“Oh, not Carl,” Celeste stated, “he did find me a mechanic, though. This was a friend of yours, you actually just missed him. He left yesterday.”

“A friend of John’s?” Kyle asked, his thumb halting mid movement as his eyes flicked sharply to the others. They didn’t have any friends who would visit them all the way out there. No one even knew about the cottage. As far as any family and friends knew, they all still lived in their flats in London.

“Yeah. He was here a few days,” Celeste said as she looked up at Kyle. “He luckily had come by when I found the puddle under my car and took a look at it for me.”

“Who was it?” John asked as he leaned forward, lacing his hands together into a fist on the table to keep himself from white knuckling the table. No one would have come to visit him. Not even family because he had none left.

“Nik,” Celeste answered brightly. “I thought he was trying to get into your place at first. He was peering inside when I yelled at him,” she cringed a bit at the memory. “He didn’t seem to mind. None of you takes a woman seriously when she’s not interested.”  

“Where are your keys?” Simon asked as he quickly pushed his chair back. He lifted Samson from his lap and set him gently on the floor, which was at odds with the hardened look on his face.  

“I, what?” Celeste asked as she frowned up at Simon, confused at the sudden shift in the room. “It’s already fixed, Simon. Nik took a look at it and told me exactly what I needed. Even offered to take me to town to get the parts do it himself. Sounds an awful lot like you.”

“Johnny,” Simon beckoned as he walked out of the kitchen and into the living room. He didn’t pause as he snatched her car keys from the bowl and disappeared out the front door with Johnny right behind him.

“What is happening?” Celeste asked, feeling her pulse quickening as John scrolled on his phone. Kyle had risen from his seat to stand behind him, the easy smile gone to be replaced by a tightly clenched jaw.

“Tell me what Nik looked like,” John said without looking up as he flipped through screens, growing frustrated with his lack of finding what he wanted, until Kyle tugged the phone away to continue searching.

“He was,” she paused as the front door opened and Johnny stalked back in, grabbed a torch from above the fridge, and headed back outside again. The scowl on his face and silence told her this was deeper than having another person fix her car.

“What is going on?”

“I don’t think you talked to Nik,” John said, keeping his tone even. It was a semi truth because he knew damn well she hadn’t met Nik. Nik himself had stated he hadn’t left Russia in almost a year, and if he had just bailed their asses out, there was no way he made it here for a few days then left again. Why would he come knowing they weren’t there? He didn’t even have the address, for that matter.

“Is Nik not Russian?” Celeste asked, her voice verging on quavering as she searched their faces for confirmation. “He had a thick accent, tall and a bit…wiry. Pale.” Celeste described hopefully, as if expecting them to realize they were being ridiculous and calm down. “He knew all about me, the den. Said you talked to him a few times, John. How would someone that doesn’t know you know all that? Why would they lie?”

The room seemed to grow cold on its own, even if that was impossible, as Kyle’s eyes flicked up to lock on Celeste’s. There was anger in his eyes, but more so, there was fear hidden deep in his gaze. Slowly, he zoomed in on a photo on the screen before twisting the phone so Celeste could see.  

“This him?” Kyle asked, his voice low and clipped. His eyes never left Celeste’s face as he looked for any hesitation. Not that he thought she would lie, but he could see the fear.

“Yes,” Celeste answered, almost whispered, as she stared at the photo. “Yes, that’s him.”

It was a grainy photo, as if taken from a distance, and without the subject knowing they were being photographed. He looked a bit different, younger, with a clean shaven face, and he was wearing a suit. Not the beat up jeans and an equally rough looking leather jacket. The sunglasses were the same, though. It was definitely Nik, at least the man who introduced themselves to her as Nik.  

“Fuck,” John barely breathed, the word barely audible as Kyle slapped the phone down on the table, the sound of it smacking the wood making Celeste flinch.

“Celeste,” John said tightly, “that wasn’t Nik.”

“I’ve gathered that,” Celeste answered, feeling her skin crawl. She knew something had been off about the guy, but he had answers to every question. He knew things that only a friend would know. And he had been nice and helpful.

“Can someone please tell me why this person would lie about who they are? Who even is this guy?”

“John.” Simon’s voice came from the front door. It was a firm summoning tone, which John answered without question, rising from his chair.   

“Kyle,” Celeste looked at Kyle with pleading eyes as John left. “Tell me what is happening.”

Kyle exhaled heavily, flexing and unflexing his hands before dropping into John’s vacant seat. How much could he tell her? How much would be enough to keep her safe, but also keep her from running in the opposite direction?

“We’ve been…” Kyle started then stopped, clenching his jaw for a moment as he thought of the best way to put it. “We’ve been tracking a Russian terrorist cell for years without realizing it until recently. All these attacks in England, abroad,” he gestured vaguely. “Have all been orchestrated by one person.”

He grabbed the phone and unlocked it again then pulled up a clearer picture, a mugshot, and slid it across the table for Celeste to see, “his name is Vladimir Makarov.”

“And what does this have to do with me?” Celeste asked as she pushed the phone away, doing her best not to shake as she replayed all the things she had said to the man and what he had said to her. The time sitting at the café talking over dinner that she gave him for free. How he stopped by another morning for coffee and chatted more. He knew so much about John. About Simon. About all of them. Stories that were so detailed and realistic sounding, she had been naïve enough to fall for them.

“When we were gone, we were tracking him,” Kyle explained as he reached out and grabbed Celeste’s trembling fingers across the table to calm her. And himself. “But he’s always one step ahead. We can never quite catch him.”

“So you’re saying he was here?” Celeste asked incredulously, even if she had seen the picture herself and confirmed it was him. “What would he want with me? If he’s pulling off all these attacks,” she paused, remembering Piccadilly, her old place wasn’t far from there, “what would he want with a widow that works at a Café in Penrith? Do you see how ridiculous this sounds?”

“He was here because he wants to get to us,” Johnny said from the kitchen entrance, making Celeste jump. She hadn’t even heard him come back inside.

“To you?” Celeste asked, turning around, pulling her hands out of Kyle’s grasp. “By being perfectly friendly and offering to fix my car? I’m sorry, are you sure this is the same person?”

“It wasn’t Nik.” Kyle answered, knowing Celeste was looking for perfectly logical explanations to something she didn’t understand. It did sound outlandish, something out of a movie, even, but Makarov did have a flair for the dramatics. And he enjoyed toying with them. “Which shows right there he was lying to you from the start.”

“And Nik wouldn’t put this on your car. But Makarov would,” Johnny added, stepping forward to show Celeste what was in his hand. It was a small black button, no bigger than a coin.

“What is that?” Celeste asked as she held out her hand, and he dropped it into her palm.

“A tracker,” Johnny said grimly as he looked at Kyle. “Simon is still tearing the car apart. If there’s one, there’s more. He’s not stupid.”

“He was…tracking me?” Celeste asked, mortified as she flung the thing onto the table as if afraid to even touch it.

“Probably has been for a while,” Kyle stated as he balled his fists in his lap. “That’s how he knew so much about you and us. He tracked you then he waited until he knew we were gone so he could get to you.”

“He had every chance to do,” Celeste swallowed, voicing it seemed too real. “He knew I was here alone, knew where I lived. He was at my job, even walked me to my car.” She fought a shiver at the thought of how easily he could have done something to her and pushed the idea from her mind.

“He’s done what he wanted,” Johnny said flatly. “Get close to you to prove he could. To show us that he still has the upper hand.”

“I didn’t,” Celeste started before standing up. She needed to move, to think. “How does he even know about me, though? How did he know you live here? I live here? How long has he been at this?”

“Months probably,” Kyle said as he stood up as well, moving to reach a hand out to Celeste, but she twisted away. “He’s had it out for us for years. We’re the epitome of everything he hates, what he wants to bring down.”

“So because I’m close with you, I’m at risk?” Celeste asked as she looked between Johnny and Kyle. They didn’t answer, just looked at one another before looking back at her. The silence told her everything.

“This is,” she took in a deep breath, staring at the dinner plates and half drunk glasses of wine. Just minutes ago, they had been having a great night. She had been excited, even dared to hope she was ready for the next chapter. Holding Kyle’s hand under the table like a shy teenager and envisioning how she would get him alone later for more than just a swift kiss on the cheek. Now it all felt false. Flat. She couldn’t stay with them, be with them, if even just being friends meant she was on some sort of hit list.

“It’s a lot, I know it is, and it’s not fair,” Kyle said, his voice careful. He could almost see all the thoughts spinning in Celeste’s head and could feel her start pulling away from him. From all of them.

“I need a moment,” she whispered.

Before Johnny or Kyle could answer, the front door swung open and John and Simon stalked in. All three of them twisted to look, and they could see that Simon’s face and arms were streaked with dirt and grease.  John was still clean, but the look on his face was murderous.

“We can do that,” Johnny offered, doing his best to not let his own heart break at the look of devastation on Kyle’s face. “We can wait in the living room…or we can clean up dinner and you can just take the bottle of wine to the living room.”

“No,” Celeste said as she shook her head and gripped the edge of the sink to steady herself. “I think you should go. I need to think about this.”

“We’re not going anywhere,” Simon said firmly as he crossed his arms across his chest.  

“You tell me I am being stalked by a psycho for even knowing you and expect me to be okay with this?” Celeste snapped, turning on all of them. “You didn’t even warn me this could happen! He could have killed me so many times, and I just willingly walked alongside him. I made him goddamn dinner!”

“No one expects you to be alright with it,” John said, his tone calmer than Simon’s but still angry. “But we’re not going anywhere. Even if we walked out that door right now, never looked back, Makarov has you tagged. He knows you mean something to me,” he paused, “to us. And he’ll exploit it.”

“Get out,” Celeste ordered, glaring at all of them as she felt the careful stitches in her broken heart tear open one by one. “Please just get out.”

“No,” Simon answered, his tone hard as he ignored Johnny, who tried to nudge him to lessen his guarded stance, but he didn’t budge.

“I’m not asking, Simon,” Celeste snapped.

“And I wouldn’t leave even if you were,” he answered almost dismissively as he slapped two black trackers onto the counter, the plastic casing clattering loudly in the silence. “I found three trackers on your car. One was so old the battery already died. He’s been watching you and learning your patterns for way too long. You can be pissed all you want at us, but we aren’t going anywhere. We’re the best protection you have, and you will need it against him.”

Celeste stared at the devices, one of them still had the red light blinking on it to show it was on. “Fine,” her eyes swept around the kitchen, looking anywhere but their faces to keep from falling apart. “Fine. I’m going upstairs. Do what you want, but I want no part in it.”

“We need to talk about…” Kyle started, but Celeste cut him off.

“We don’t need to talk about anything,” Celeste snapped. “We are not doing anything. You can figure this out. I never should have accepted…this. I was an idiot to think I could ever,” she took a deep breath to keep the tears behind her eyes from releasing. “Consider whatever any of this is, was, over. My life was at least safe when I was alone. So leave me out of all of this and just let me know when I’m no longer on someone’s kill list.”

“Celeste,” Kyle started, moving to follow her, but John’s hand caught his shoulder, stopping him.

“Give her a bit,” Johnny murmured as they listened to her dart up the stairs.

======================