It demanded to be written.
Title from the song "Robbers" by The 1975.

job tonight
hampton rd 4:15

The buzzing of his cellphone against wood cut through the dead quiet of Motel 6, room 42. The screen lit up as she flipped it open making her flinch, and she squinted at the device so to read the received message. Woken by the movement around him but still half-asleep, he rolled over on the bed to face her, and reached one hand in her direction. She smiled to herself in the dark; the thought of him not wanting to spend a single awake moment away from her made her stomach flutter. She clutched the phone in her hand as if she could make it disappear just by sheer will, and curled up on his chest, allowing herself to drown in his embrace.

"Don't go." She didn't want to spend a single moment away from him as well.

His lips trailed her skin with wet kisses, only leaving it briefly to form words. "I don't want to." He kissed her on the tip of her nose, and sighed, resting their foreheads together.

"But unless you wanna start packing, I have to go keep our safe pass around this town."

"You're right..." She pressed a kiss to his lips, pushing deep down those feelings she thought of to be desperate and needy, and put the phone in his hands.

He twisted his body away from her as if he was getting up, but instead he put the phone down on the nightstand on his side of the bed. He adjusted himself back on the bed, grabbed her by the waist and with one swift movement pulled her up on top of him. "Didn't say I was going right now."

She smiled, and sat up on his lap, running her hands over the taught muscles of his chest. He slipped his fingers under her t-shirt and pulled it over her head, leaving her only in her panties. His hands went back to her waist and he smoothed them up her sides, until his thumbs were pressing on her nipples. A low moan escaped her parted lips as she writhed down on his bare skin so he could feel her aching through the fabric of her underwear. One of his hands firmly squeezed her breast, while the other continued to trace her smooth skin, and she leaned into him so he could reach and caress her face. He waited for her to open her eyes but she wouldn't hold his gaze.

He meant to ask if something was wrong but she distracted him with a hand placed on top of his to lead his index and middle finger inside her mouth. She took her time sucking it, apparently for the sheer pleasure of torturing him. He also took his time being lost in her movements. Noticing how mesmerized he was a smirk played on her lips, and the spell was broken. In retaliation, he grabbed Julia's waist, throwing her playfully on the mattress as he got on top of her. He pressed himself against her as he settled between her legs, making her feel what she'd seen; how much she affected him. She groaned breathlessly, and arched her back in a desperate plea for more. Revenge forgotten, he took his boxers off and helped her do the same.

Towering over her, he captured her lips in his, and she wrapped her legs around his waist. It always amazed him how they were a perfect fit. How their movements always synced in time with each other over and over again. How her moans traveled down deep inside of him from their joined mouths and never failed to bring him so dangerously close to the edge.

But he desperately needed her there with him, so he let his hand slip between them hurriedly, making her break away from his mouth and gasp. He knew she was close so he picked up his pace and soon her cries were the only sound filling the air of northeast Dallas. He buried his face on her neck, finally groaning her name as he allowed himself to let go.

They lay side by side trying to catch their breaths as he took her hand in his and brought it to his lips, kissing her knuckles. She wrapped her free hand around his arm and buried her face in the gap between his bicep and chest.

"Babe?"

"Just be careful today. Promise." Her voice was small and he felt his heart sink for putting her through it all. At first he seriously considered not telling her she would have to settle for a recurring—not recovering—criminal, but remembering the night he almost lost her the first time convinced him against it. Knowing he was a murderer didn't stop her from loving him. And in return she only asked that there would be no more lies between them. That was one promise he could keep.

"Just go back to sleep." He brushed her lips with his ever so lightly, knowing she loved the rough feeling of his beard on her delicate skin. "I'll be back before you know it."

—

Barbie looked around the room as he sat uncomfortably on the velvet couch. The walls were black and everything smelled like cigarettes and mold. He ran his tongue on his lower lip tasting metal, and flexing his bruised knuckles he tried to focus on the pain and not on the mental images of the latest assault he participated. He hadn't exactly liked this means of living before but he also didn't feel as disgusted with himself as he did now. He blamed her, of course, for getting under his skin in a way that gave him a new meaning in life. That, above all, made him want to be the guy she deserved.

"Mr. Guerrero is ready for you."

A man in a grey suit jacket escorted him to the adjacent room, and closed the door behind him. The room was a lot like the previous one, except for a ludicrous crystal chandelier hanging from the ceiling, and a big wooden desk in the middle of it.

"Very good job today, Dale." The man sitting behind the desk said.

Barbie hated calling what he did a job. He felt it depreciated all actual jobs out there. However, it hadn't been his good looks that made Guerrero not to turn them in—and collect his reward—when he found out the most wanted fugitives in America were hiding out in his town. It had been, as the man himself had put it, Barbie's physical skills that could be very useful to Guerrero and his 'business'; a very small price to pay for safety and anonymity.

"And yet I hear there's another one for me tonight. I thought the deal was one job a day, Guerrero."

"Dale, we're all friends here. Please call me Ignacio." The man motioned for Barbie to take the chair across the desk but he was ignored. "And yes, of course that was our agreement. But this is more of a personal favor. You see, my cousin came to me saying he was going to kill his brother-in-law. Apparently the guy hadn't been too gentle to his sister for a while now. If it were my own sister I'd feel like putting a bullet in his skull myself. However, even a man like me has to eventually give in to the importance of keeping a family together. Imagine his sister's three children having to grow up without a father? And you know me Dale, just as I welcomed you and Julia to this town, I look out for everyone." Barbie's hand shook violently, his boss frequently mentioned Julia despite never meeting her. His obvious intentions were to assure Barbie nothing escaped his knowledge. It never failed to make Barbie promise to put a bullet in his chest. "Because it's my duty to protect my people. So I told my cousin I'd take care of that situation."

Guerrero pulled several thousand dollar bills from his suit and put the money on the table between them.

"And that's where you come in, Dale. The guy is sitting right now at my bar downstairs. Scare him a little. You'll have earned today's paycheck and kept a family together."

The man in printed suit jacket led Barbie through a set of corridors and finally into the service entrance of a nightclub. The same nightclub Barbie and Guerrero had their first 'negotiation'. It was almost six in the morning so the place wasn't exactly packed, although that was the sort of place you couldn't tell if it was night or day. Guerrero's lackey pointed to a man sitting alone in the bar. Barbie sat next to him, got his pack out from his shirt pocket, and lit up a cigarette. The man next to him downed his drink and yelled at the bartender for another. Before bringing the man his drink, the bartender put an ashtray and a bowl of peanuts in front of Barbie, and the man yelled some more, cursing the bartender for the delay.

"Hey man," Barbie said, "I think you had enough."

"Who the fuck do you think you're talking to?" The man spat at Barbie who, too fast for the man's drunk reflexes, grabbed him by the back of his head and made him connect with the counter. One, two, three, four times, until Barbie got distracted by his wedding band covered in blood, stopped hitting his skull to the table to crush it under the weight of his hand up to the point the man started choking on his own blood.

Barbie leaned closer to him, "Touch your wife again and I won't be this nice next time."

He let go of the man, and left the club. He was dying to jump in the shower and into Julia's arms. He was feeling dirty and broken, and somehow he knew a thousand showers would never make him feel clean again, but Julia's solid touch had been healing him since the day the bomb had hit the dome—and she was doing a thorough job of putting him together again, piece by piece.

—

The clock on the nightstand read six o'clock when Julia gave up on going back to sleep. She got up to use the bathroom, then later returned wearing one of Barbie's shirt.

Barbie opened the door to the motel room, expecting to find her exactly where she was; still warm and comfortable on the bed, wearing his flannel shirt and nothing else, and working on her book. Since leaving Chester's Mill behind, they had been everywhere and done a little bit of everything. It was extremely difficult to start fresh and hide when everybody knew who you were, and even more difficult to keep a job when you're wanted by the government. Soon he figured out their only chance of not getting captured, and getting enough money for things like food and gas, was for him to go back to his old crime life at least until they were all set to leave the country.

Julia also tried a myriad of odd jobs that lasted even less than Barbie's. The problem with modern communications was that anyone served as the eyes and ears of the government. Especially when there was a prize on their heads, dead or alive. So Barbie found his way back to a dangerous but anonymous life working for Dalla's most wanted gangster and Julia managed to contact the only friend she trusted back in Chicago to publish her work under a pseudonym. She started with travel guides like "The East Coast in 72 Hours" and "10 Underrated US Cities You Need to Visit", but encouraged by how well they were received, she branched out to short stories, and was now working on the second installment of a critically acclaimed sci-fi novel. The fact that the author refused to reveal themselves fueled several theories on online forums, creating a huge hype around the novel. The money was good, and they could've lived comfortably if it hadn't been necessary to pay off the people who had found out Azimuth was written by one of Chester's Mills last survivers, Julia Shumway.

Having noticed he was standing in the doorway, she put her tablet away, and jumped from the bed. "Barbie, your lip." She went to the mini-fridge and pulled out an ice pack. She closed the space between them and he winced when she pressed the ice to his split lip.

"How's the book going?" He asked trying to take her mind off his rundown condition.

"Actually, not so good." Her words said she fallen on the distraction but the tremble on her voice betrayed her. "I'm having a bit of writer's block."

"Well, I don't blame you." He took the hand that wasn't holding the ice pack, and gave it a light squeeze. "Being all cooked up in here for days will drive anyone crazy, let alone focus on anything." She smiled half-heartily. "I know just what you need."

"Really? What's that?"

"A nice breakfast outdoors."

Julia put the ice away and cocked her head at him, smirking, "you mean a picnic?"

"Yeah. There's this beautiful park I saw just a few minutes from here." She looked at him skeptically. "Well, not exactly beautiful but with trees, grass and a not-so polluted lake that..."

She didn't let him finish. "Someone will recognizes us. "

"We'll wear hats... and sunglasses." Julia let go of Barbie's hand, avoiding his gaze. "You know, I shouldn't be the one telling you need to go out more." He said jokingly trying and failing to lighten up the mood.

"We go out." She crossed her arms, her whole body tense. "But always at night."

"You're not a vampire, Julia." He said, his tone a bit sharper than intended. Then he tried more softly, "I'm just worried. I just want you to have as much of a normal life as you deserve."

"You're not worried. You're feeling guilty." Her words were accusing and Barbie flinched. "I know that you think you're a coward for not giving yourself up so they'll forget about me. " Barbie had never said it aloud, but the thought crossed his mind everyday. if they had him they might still go after her, but it was sure going to by her some time. She could then leave the country and start a new, free life.

"Barbie," Her soft voice woke him up from his thoughts. "I'm used to our life. Together. I signed up for it."

His swallowed and his hand curled into a fist. "I just hate..." He hated that being with him was hazardous to her freedom. He hated that her safety relied on help from outlaws. He hated that he had been too selfish to turn himself in right away. That the he wasn't strong enough to not resist to a chance of being with her. After all, what they really wanted was him. And they would have left her alone eventually like they had done with the others.

"I know." She stressed the word as if she had heard his thoughts. "But it's not your fault. It's their fault."

"The military?"

"No, them." She turned away from him, feeling the blood boiling in her veins. "The ones who trapped us in a fishbowl like we were lab rats. Toyed with our minds, led us to believe there was a reason behind it all." She approached the window, touching the cool glass. Somehow it made Barbie feel like when they were on opposite sides of the dome. "It still feels like we're trapped." She finally turned to face him and he saw the tears rolling down her cheeks. "It's like we're never escaping the dome."

The air left his lungs as if he had been punched in the guts. They had discussed how their lives would be if they chose not to turn themselves in. They anticipated the running from one place to the next, the constant looking over their shoulders, not having enough to eat, not having a place to sleep. And the consensus was they could go through anything as long as they were together. But this wasn't the same Julia who made those promises with him. This Julia wasn't sure of herself for the first time since he'd met her. This Julia was unsure and afraid, and nothing had ever scared him as much as seen her like that. He felt stupid for not expecting it, of course just being with him wasn't enough for her. She needed more. She deserved so much more.

"Julia, I know this is not good enough but I'll let them kill me before I let anything happen to you."

"Before, I was brave enough to say the same. Now, I'm just sick of running, I can't stop thinking why us, why now, how unfair it all is."

"Julia," he was now inches from her but didn't dare touch her. "Before what?"

"I'm pregnant, Barbie."

His arms were around her immediately, hugging her so tightly it made the air leave her lungs.

"Oh, Julia. I love you so much."

"Barbie, if they find us... What if they hurt our child?"

His hands cupped her face and he brought their lips together tenderly. Parting briefly he whispered against her soft skin.

"We're gonna be okay."

Barbie fiddled nervously with the cuff links on his dress shirt. The last time he'd worn a suit had been on his mother's funeral, and the memory was as upsetting as wearing borrowed clothes. But everything was designed to make him look like wealthy John Smith—fake owner of the ghost bank account he was about to rob.

"Ready, Mr. Smith?" Bernard, Guerrero's son asked him. He would be playing the part of John Smith's bodyguard.

"Yeah."

They exited the black sedan and walked up the stairs of the Federal Reserve Bank of Dallas as Bernard filled Barbie in on their plan.

"The manager is in on this, he found a breach in the system and fabricated a millionaire account, your account Mr. Smith. All you have to do is go in, act like a white rich business man and cash the money. Simple huh? You'll get your cut obviously, and then you and Julia can truly fall off the map. I'd take her someplace romantic."

They passed the metal detectors on the front doors, and Bernard smiled at him.

"Have you proposed yet?"

"No, not yet."

The men stopped at the manager's desk and were led to the room where the private vaults were.

"Something's wrong." Barbie looked around and his hand instinctively went to his back but he'd forgotten he wasn't carrying his gun. A red dot appeared on Bernard's forehead and Barbie shouted, "It's an ambush!"

Barbie pushed Bernard to the ground and the bullet barely missed his arm. He helped him get up and they both ran as fast as they could to the bank's entrance. Suddenly Barbie felt his leg on fire. He too had been shot.

"Shit!" Barbie shouted, and tried to apply pressure to the wound but the black sedan was pulling up and Bernard was rushing him in.

"Come on, get in!"

Barbie sprinted the last few yards to the car and threw himself inside through the open door. The car drove away at full speed and only then the two men managed to catch their breaths.

"You saved my life," Bernard said, "I'll never forget that."

Barbie simply nodded and took off his shirt to press against his injured leg.

"I wonder how they figured it out..."

"The Feds must have offered the manager a better deal than us."

"Yeah, well. It doesn't matter now. We'll take care of him later today."

"We?"

"He can't walk, Barbie, he knows too much. Besides you still own my father a last job."

"Stop the car." Barbie said suddenly.

"What?"

"Stop the fucking car!"

The driver pulled up and Barbie turned to Bernard opening the door, "Tell your father I'm out."

He jumped out with Bernard screaming after him.

"Barbie! Don't do this! My father will come after you!"

"Let him try."

—

"Pick up, Julia. Pick up."

"Hello?"

On the fifth ring the woman's voice came on the line and Barbie sighed in relief.

"Julia, we have to leave now! It's not safe anymore, I'm coming to get you!"

"I'm waiting."

The line went dead and Barbie picked up his pace. His heart was racing and it had little to do with the running. Something about her voice...He finally reached the block of hotel rooms and struggled with his keys until door 42 gave away. Julia was standing near the window, facing away from him.

"Thank God, you're okay."

He took a few steps in her direction as she turned to him, tears streaming down her face.

"I'm sorry." She whispered, and before Barbie could reply he heard a voice behind him.

"I wouldn't be so sure about that, Dale."

Guerrero came out from the bathroom aiming a gun at Julia.

"Guerrero, please..." Barbie pleaded.

"Leaving me so soon, Dale? I thought you were a man of your word."

"Let's just—just talk outside ok? She has nothing to do with this."

"Well, now you've made her a part of it." Guerrero took a step towards Julia, and she closed her eyes.

The last thing he felt was a shooting pain in his chest.

—

He was walking on sand. Very thin, almost white, warm sand. His feet were taking him towards the ocean. Violent waves would start sky blue on the horizon and end on white foam at the shore. Then the he felt like the air pressure dropped because he couldn't hear the waves crashing anymore. It was like putting everything on mute. But looking at the sea he could feel it calling for him. Calling for him to join oblivion.

"Barbie."

A distant voice broke out the haze in his mind and the sea went still. He turned around and saw a child sitting on the sand with a tiny pink bucket.

"Hey, little one." At the sound of his voice, the child looked up at him with fiery eyes, like the undertow pulling him in, but unlike the sea, he felt no urge to resist. He didn't belong in the cold eternal ocean, he still belonged to the fleeting fire of existence.

"Can I play with you?" The child handed him a miniature green shovel. Together they dig a whole on the ground as the bucket was filled with sand. Barbie turned the little bucket over but the sand didn't hold, spreading and blending in with the rest. The child laughed and the sound made Barbie's chest fill up like the bucket, except he knew he wasn't emptying ever again.

"You know, you remind me of someone." And then Barbie's mind were also filled. "Someone with your eyes... your hair... your laugh..." The fog on his mind started to dissipate as he took the child's tiny hand in his big one. Their gazes met and it all came back to him. "She must be dying to meet you."

"Barbie!"

The world was bright and moving hurt a great deal. He did it anyway because she was by his side and he needed to see for himself that she wasn't a dream.

"Take it easy, will you?" She said leaning into his line of vision. Her eyes were red rimmed and she looked like she hadn't slept in days but she was alive, and so was him.

"Water." The knowledge that she was okay unleashed his other senses. She held a straw to his mouth for him to sip the liquid until the burn in his throat eased a little.

"Better?" He nodded and she took his hand and filled it with kisses.

"You?"

"I'm fine." She placed his hand on her stomach. "We're fine."

He closed his eyes for a moment and took the first real deep breath in a very long finally opened his eyes and took in his surroundings, "where are we?"

"Cuba."

"Thought I promised you Paris."

"You did, but I was calling the shots."

"I get it, i'm the mushy one." She beckoned and he frowned, "But how?"

"Bernard. He said he owned you?"

He nodded, "I warned him about a ruse at the bank."

"He waited until Guerrero left to get you help. Then I said to Bernard why save your life when his father and the government were still out for your blood? So he arranged us a plane." He smiled knowing perfectly well how persuasive she could be.

"Bernard was paying and you chose Cuba?" She laughed and it was the most beautiful sound in the world.

"Well they have excellence in free healthcare."

"Which I would obviously need..." Of course she had thought of every detail.

"I took a leap of faith, baby. I felt, given the US and Cuba's history, they would be less likely to extradite us. And I was right. I told them everything—who we are, and why our government wants us. They granted us political asylum. Which means, we can stop hiding. And running. We can just... Live."

"Good," he grinned and she leaned in to rest her head on his chest, "because how does 'beach wedding' sounds?"

"Guerrero" is pronounced /ge-he-ro/ and it means warrior.
I don't actually know how much of the east coast you can see in 72h so, sorry if it seems ridiculous.
"Azimuth" is the angular distance between the direction of a fixed point and the direction of an object, while "Zenith" is the point on the celestial sphere vertically above a given position or observer.

Thanks for reading, I had sooo much fun writing this, hope you guys enjoyed it as well! Let me know what you think ;)