Disclaimer: Spooks belongs to the BBC, and the title and epigraph is from Mumford & Sons' Awake My Soul.
Characters: Ros, Lucas; Ros/Lucas
Summary: "You can drop the mask, Ros. I can see right through you." Post 7.5. Uhh, happy very-very-belated birthday, ColoursNeverSeen...?
Awake My Soul
My weakness I feel I must finally show
Lend me your hand and we'll conquer them all
She looks remarkably well for a woman who's had a gun to her head and the fate of a country's economy in her hands. In no time at all she's back on the Grid, completely unflustered, jacket slung over the back of her chair. It's almost a normal day for her.
Her fingers hover over the keyboard as she pauses in typing up a report of the operation. She's damn sure there's no indication of her fear when she felt the cold barrel of a gun pressed to her temple, but that doesn't stop the shudder that threatens to creep up her spine at the thought of it. She knocks it down and forces herself to keep typing. You don't do emotional incontinence, remember?
She subtly minimises the screen when Lucas walks past, and pretends to be absorbed in running a facial recognition program for their latest case until he's gone. He stops at her desk though, and she's forced herself to suppress a jump when she starts to speak.
"You don't have to pretend, you know," he says.
She looks up at him, eyebrow raised. "I beg your pardon?"
"You don't have to pretend you're above pain. You can drop the mask, Ros. I can see right through you."
She stares at him blankly, stunned. If that's true, he's the only one who can. Harry will accept the report in his in-tray with a cursory nod and a detached "Thank you", but she knows he wants to forget about the whole affair. If she'd all but sent an officer in to sleep with a target, and for the plan to almost backfire on the bait, she'd be pretty embarrassed too. Malcolm is as endearingly awkward as ever; Connie is matter-of-fact and aloof. Jo's probably come the closest otherwise, but she's got enough on her plate as it is without considering Ros too.
"I know what happened with Meynell," Lucas continues gently, lowering his voice so no-one else can hear. "I know what you had to do.
"Come on, Lucas," Ros laughs, feigning nonchalance. "You know MI-5 doesn't do that sort of thing."
She's parroting the service's prospectus at him, and they both know it. He lets it slide.
"Drink up," he says, indicating the mug of steaming coffee he's just left on her desk, before leaning closer and dropping his voice to a murmur. "And when you're ready to talk about it..." He pulls back, leaving the offer hanging, and at her curt, dismissive nod, he walks away.
Ros turns her attention back to the screen, heart thumping. She had thought she'd buried those memories with an impassive statement and a splash of water to her face – she hadn't even bothered to mention it in the operation report – but Lucas' words have left the images fresh in her mind and right in front of her eyes. She feels her throat tighten, the flash of panic searing through her, Meynell's lips on hers, his body on hers, in hers, a wash of fear and relief and disgust as they clash and collide and tumble to the bed.
Abruptly she stands, and flees the Grid, knocking over the coffee and leaving her jacket behind. She tears up the back stairs, rips open the door to the roof and collapses against the railing, fighting tears and gasping for breath in the cool evening air.
The door opens behind her and someone steps onto the roof. She doesn't need to look around to know that it's him. She waits until Lucas comes up and stands at the railing beside her before trying to speak.
"It's part of the job," she whispers, and his heart breaks at the catch in her voice and how she is unable to meet his gaze. They deny it, but we all know it's true.
He puts his hand on her arm. She flinches, but he doesn't pull away. "That doesn't mean it should be," he says softly.
She nods numbly. "I know." Her voice cracks, scarcely audible above the wind and her shaky breathing and the tears that will not go away. He puts his arms around her and she lets them fall, burying her face against his chest and hiding her weakness. He says nothing, just holds her close as she bares her soul and pierces his.
When she finally meets his eyes, he knows what happens next. He'd be lying if he said he'd never found her attractive before, never wanted her like that. But this is different. Here she's not his brilliant, sarcastic, gun-toting boss, but just a woman. A woman who's been through something that never should have been an option, let alone 'part of the job'. Regardless of how he felt being her 'fiancée', he cannot – he will not – be selfish and let himself forget what she's been through.
"Please."
It's her tiny, fearful whisper that tells him it's okay. She needs him to do this, to accept her as she is, bruised and broken, tattered and torn. She needs him to want her – and oh god, he does, has done for so long – to block out the memory of what she had to do, needs to paint over Meynell's kisses and touches and image at the front of her mind, and he wants to tell her that it's okay, that she's she one person she need never hide herself from.
He kisses her long and deep, one hand going to the small of her back and hold her ever closer, they other reaching up to tangle in her hair and tilt her head back to meet him. Her hands go to the front of his jacket and fist in his lapels, eyes squeezed painfully shut as she forces the tears away and presses her lips to his.
It's been 8 years since he's done this; it's been 8 hours for her. He knows which situation he'd rather be in.
His arms are around her and pinning her to him but they comfort and protect, not trap and hurt, and so long as it's Lucas here with her, she can start to erase Meynell's ghost from her body and her mind.
It's been aaaages since I wrote anything new, but I've been meaning to do this for so so long that I decided to get off my arse and write it. I hope it's alright, and not too OOC, and I hope you enjoyed it! Please leave a review and let me know what you thought =)