This was actually one of the first Tallowe things I had ever written. It's gone through a couple of revamps since I wrote it in 2012. My best friend and I felt it was necessary to explore how their romantic relationship actually began... and so this is it! Our headcanon for how they became Tallowe :) In this fic, Talbot is 25 and Marlowe is 47.

Feedback, as always, is greatly appreciated.

Patience may have been a virtue, but it was one that Marlowe simply didn't possess in her current situation.

She had awaited Talbot's return for hours. It should have been an easy mission, a simple delivery, only an hour, tops... but when the third hour dragged by, snail-like in its agonizing slowness, Marlowe began thinking that something had gone awry.

Though she tried to convince herself that Talbot was more than capable, it only took one brief slip for the shit to hit the proverbial fan. It would be a lie to deny the fact that she had lost a great deal of agents over the years... and an even crueler lie to say she cared. It was a cold separation that she maintained between the field agents and herself.

But Talbot... well... Talbot was different. By default, she was forced to care about his whereabouts as she paced impatiently around the main foyer of her manor. The security of her entire organization was at stake if anything happened to him, as he was the man who would succeed her in the event that any cruel fate should befall her before her time. It wasn't something that she typically dwelled upon, except in times like these.

Minutes passed unbearably, the ticking grandfather clock setting the pace as her shoes clicked against the floor. Suddenly, a harsh breeze rushed through the main foyer, assaulting her bare legs and causing her skirt to ripple for a moment.

The sound of raised voices met her ears and not a moment later, a group of agents burst through the front door. A limp figure was being dragged in the middle of them, slung over the shoulders of two of the men. She knew immediately by the pinstriped suit that it was Talbot, though his head was slumped forward.

"What the hell happened?" Marlowe demanded, rushing towards the group and speaking to the man nearest to her.

"He was ambushed. Found him in an alleyway near Carnaby. We thought he was dead."

Marlowe's hands balled into fists. "But he's—?"

"Still breathing. Doctor Knox is on the way."

Risking a glance at Talbot's motionless figure, Marlowe could feel the muscles in her chest tightening. She had to look away for a moment in order to stop the lightheaded sensation that suddenly overwhelmed her. His suit was not only torn in several places but stained by blood from what appeared to be a deep wound in his side, and his face was marred by scratches and bruises. She could only imagine what the rest of him looked like.

"Take him up to his room," she said, voice cold and unwavering. "Make sure he's comfortable until the doctor arrives."

Marlowe watched as they carried Talbot up to his chambers. It wasn't until she saw blood dripping in his wake, a stark contrast to the sparkling hardwood floors, that she realized the direness of the situation.

"You there," Marlowe turned to face the small group of agents left in the foyer, pointing at the man in the forefront. "Who's responsible for this?"

Though her words were spoken calmly, her lips were pursed into a thin line. Someone was going to pay for this.

"It wasn't our fault," the man in the front said, quite lamely. "The assailants fled before we could track them down and—"

"Not your fault?" Marlowe gave an insincere chuckle as she cut him off. "What exactly were you doing while all of this occurred, hrmm?"

At that, the man shrank away from her. She recognized him one of the agents assigned particularly to back Talbot up.

"I... um... well..."

When an answer wasn't formed promptly enough, she grabbed him by the lapels of his jacket and spun him so that he was knocked harshly into the foyer table. He fell to the ground from the impact and the decorative vase perched upon it toppled and shattered with a crash. Marlowe didn't flinch. If she had to make an example of someone, then so be it.

"Your futility has cost you this job," she spat, voice icy as she glowered above him. Marlowe then turned to address the remainder of the men, who were regarding her with blank stares. "As for the rest of you, I want you to get back out there. Allow me to make myself clear: I don't care how long it takes, I don't care what you have to do... I want you to find out who did this. Now."

Her patience was wearing thin when she noticed that the men were seemingly frozen in place.

"What are you doing?" she snapped. "Don't just stand there! Get going! And clean up this mess!"

The men scattered, and Marlowe turned sharply towards the staircase, stepping over the fallen agent in the process. She had to check on Talbot. With brisk steps even in her high-heeled shoes, Marlowe made her way upstairs and down the hallway. She entered his room, joining the small group of agents that were attending to him. She remained a few feet away from his bed, allowing her eyes to glance over the scene before her. It was something straight out of a nightmare.

"How is he?" she asked, the words spoken much more quietly than she had intended.

The question was pointless, as she already knew the answer. As one of the men at his bedside shifted, he allowed her a clear view of Talbot's half-conscious form. His tan skin was pale and ashen, his body glistening with sweat. Now shirtless, they'd pressed towels upon the wound in his side. The white cloth was stained a startling bright shade of red.

"He's losing a lot of blood," was all that the agent said.

Of course he was.

He was feverish. He was in pain.

He was probably dying.

"He wouldn't be if you were doing it right," she hissed, when she noticed one of the agent's weak pressure upon Talbot's wound. "Move aside."

Marlowe stepped in, shouldering two of the men as she took one of the towels and pressed down hard against Talbot's side, applying an ample amount of pressure. It was enough to make him stir, and his blue eyes opened, fixing upon her for a few moments as he muttered her name in confusion, as if he didn't understand why she was there.

"...Marlowe?"

She stared, a numb sensation washing over her as Talbot groaned and closed his eyes again, falling back into unconsciousness. Before she could utter anything in return, one of the men announced that the doctor had arrived. She turned her head to see him rushing into the room with his satchel and long white coat. He literally looked as if he had run a mile to get there.

"Marlowe," said Dr. Knox, slightly out of breath as he came to stand beside the bed. He placed a gentle hand upon her shoulder and she bristled at the gesture. "I arrived as quickly as I could. I'd like everyone to clear out, but I understand if you want to stay—"

Her green eyes locked with his, expression steely as she hesitantly tore herself from Talbot's side and stood.

"No, just... fix him."

Dr. Knox nodded solemnly at her demand. As emotion choked her, Marlowe had to turn away from the scene in order to catch her breath. She heard as he ushered everyone out and she joined the exodus of agents filing out of Talbot's chambers. She could have stayed, but somehow, she simply couldn't. The great Katherine Marlowe, who had lived through countless battles and oftentimes grievous injuries, couldn't even stick around without her composure breaking.

As she came to stand outside of Talbot's room, she moved to run her fingers through her hair when she paused, holding her hands palms-up to observe the red that stained her fingertips.

Talbot's blood was all over her hands.

Frowning deeply, Marlowe headed towards her own chambers and into her bathroom. She ran the sink and washed her hands, watching as the blood mingled with the water at the bottom of the sink and caused it to turn murky before it swirled down the drain.

Once her hands were clean, she leaned forward with her palms at the edge of the marble sink. Her thoughts felt clouded and scattered as she regarded her own reflection in the bathroom mirror. She looked like hell, eyes wild and her blonde hair frazzled and out of place. What was happening to her? Though she took a few deep, calming breaths... Marlowe couldn't help but feel shaken.

Somehow, seeing blood on your hands was different when it wasn't your own.

In all her years, she'd assumed that bad things couldn't happen to people like Talbot. He was under her watch, he was safe. And just when she'd allowed herself to get too cocky, too damn sure of herself... life had showed her a cruel twist of fate… a reading in the cards that she couldn't have foreseen, because she hadn't cared to.

Once she had composed herself, at least to the best of her abilities, Marlowe returned to the hallway leading towards Talbot's room.

Time seemed to slow as she paced impatiently and toyed idly with her jade necklace, awaiting any news from the doctor. It could have been minutes or hours that she wandered back and forth. Marlowe wasn't entirely sure, but it seemed far too long to tolerate.

Just when she felt as if she couldn't tolerate waiting any longer, she heard the door to Talbot's chambers creak behind her.

"Marlowe?" At last, Dr. Knox emerged from the room to greet her, hesitating for a moment in the doorway as Marlowe stopped pacing. His features were solemn.

"Is he all right?" she asked, hoping that she didn't sound too eager.

"Yes," Doc said quietly, as he adjusted his glasses on the bridge of his nose. At the good news, Marlowe exhaled a breath that she didn't even realize she was holding. "The wound in his side was deeper than I expected. With such an injury, it's incredibly fortunate that his lung wasn't punctured. If that had happened, he'd be dead. Talbot is a very lucky young man..."

She nodded, lips pursed as Doc continued.

"...but in any case, he's all patched up now and the outlook is promising. With some bedrest, he should be back on his feet in a couple of weeks."

"Can I see him?"

"As a fair warning, he's in a lot of pain," said Dr. Knox, with a sympathetic frown. "I gave him some morphine, but he's awake now. You can see him if you'd like."

"Yes, I'd like that."

He held the door open for her as she stepped into Talbot's chambers, and she looked over her shoulder before he could follow.

"May we have a moment?"

"Of course."

With a polite nod, Dr. Knox door shut the door behind him as he exited, leaving the room in complete silence. Marlowe's stride was purposeful as she came to stand near the edge of the bed. Propped against the pillows behind him, Talbot slowly turned his head to face her and immediately straightened, wincing as he did so. The color seemed to drain entirely from his face.

Even in the dim lighting of the room, Marlowe could see the extent of his injuries...the colorful bruises along his neck, arms, and collarbone... cuts and scrapes marring his face and the bloodied bandages wrapped around his midsection. His eyes were glazed over, accented by the dark circles beneath them and void of their usual glint... and a deep frown was etched into his features. Whether from pain or guilt, she wasn't sure.

Several agonizing moments of stark silence passed before Talbot opened his mouth to speak.

"Marlowe, I can explain—"

His words were cut off as a resounding slap echoed throughout the room. Talbot gasped, pressing his palm to the side of his face where Marlowe had hit him. He stared at her, mouth agape and eyes watery as he hissed through his teeth, attempting to recover from the unexpected blow.

Marlowe leaned in close, pointing a finger mere inches from his nose for extra emphasis.

"If you ever scare me like that again," she scolded, her voice a harsh whisper. "I will not hesitate to have you removed from my services."

Talbot was speechless, with a hand still clutched to his cheek. However, her words seemed to hurt him far more than the physical blow. There was a pain flowing in the depths of his blue eyes that she hadn't seen previously. Against her will, Marlowe's lips began to tremble. He seemed but a mere boy in that moment, terrified and guilt-ridden... and so reminiscent of the young man she'd taken in years ago. There was something about him that dissolved her sturdy countenance, something that she could never quite comprehend. Most of the time, she didn't want to.

With one final shake of her head, Marlowe spun on her heel and briskly exited the room, willing herself to pull her gaze away from him. She was sure that she got her point across, even if it was in the only way she knew how.

Marlowe had to take a few steadying breaths to prevent the unwelcome moisture from welling up in her eyes as she stepped through the door.

Dr. Knox regarded her quizzically as she rushed past him, and she headed straight back to her room with her palm clamped over her mouth. In her strange state, she felt the need to withdraw from everything, and so she retired for the evening. Hours passed, and she was only interrupted once to be informed that her agents had located the men responsible for Talbot's injury.

It was a small victory, but it offered no relief to her.

Utterly torn, Marlowe found herself mulling things over and replaying her last encounter with Talbot over and over again. When at last she could bear the silence no longer, she knew what she had to do.

Marlowe pulled a robe around her body to fight against the chill of the late night hours before stepping outside into the hallway. Her residence was left in peace and quiet after the hectic events of the day.

Cat-like in nature as her bare feet pattered down the hall, she kept to the shadows until she reached Talbot's door. Opening it as quietly as she could and then shutting it behind her, she allowed herself in.

A soft light was pouring in through the windows, illuminating his sleeping form. He seemed to be in a deep slumber, most likely the effects of the drugs in his system. For only a brief moment, she felt conflicted about waking him... but she refused to turn back. It was now or never.

She sat at the edge of the bed as it gave a creak, silently observing him. Talbot's face twitched slightly, but he remained asleep.

It was then that Marlowe decided upon a different tactic. With a gentleness that was uncharacteristic of her, she pulled back the sheets and perched herself upon his lap with her legs on either side of his hips. The moment her weight was upon him, Talbot jolted awake with a gasp, immediately moving a hand to push whatever was on top of him away.

It was a foolish move, in retrospect... to practically pounce a man who had been assaulted only a few hours earlier. Regardless, Marlowe somehow found amusement in the myriad of emotions flitting across his features... from fear, to confusion and finally a flustered embarrassment when he realized that he was gripping her exposed thigh.

Talbot froze, not moving a muscle as his gaze met hers. He blinked a few times, as if he expected her to magically vanish before his eyes. He remained quite rigid when she didn't.

She watched as his eyes drifted over her figure through the sheer, lacy, chemise, leaving very little to the imagination. His Adam's apple moved as he swallowed hard and his palm remained upon her leg, seemingly too afraid to move it and too startled to do anything else.

"Marlowe, I don't understand," he muttered, voice hoarse. His chapped lips were parted as he shook his head.

"Shhh..." she soothed, with a finger to his lips, effectively silencing him. "I didn't come here to talk."

She traced his jawline and down along his collarbone before her palm came to rest upon his shoulder. He really did look like he'd been through hell. The dim moonlight caused the bruises all over his neck and chest to look darker and considerably more painful. She knew that kissing pain away was a fool's notion... but Marlowe leaned in regardless and pressed her lips to the softness of his neck.

"Marlowe," He groaned as she planted several kisses along his neckline. With her hand resting upon the center of Talbot's chest, she could feel his heart racing. "Wait... just... allow me to explain."

Although he tried to keep her from continuing, she could tell that it wasn't what he wanted. From her straddled position, there was no mistaking Talbot's true desires.

"Oh, Talbot... you never learn, do you?"

The man really didn't know when to keep his mouth shut. It had been a persistent problem for him, and sometimes there was only one singular solution to such things.

Without another word, Marlowe captured his mouth in an eager kiss. Talbot didn't reciprocate but he didn't necessarily recoil, either. It was a safe and dumbfounded middle ground. When he remained motionless, she kissed him harder, desperately trying to break the spell. At that, Talbot seemed to accept the situation and began moving his lips in sync with hers, his body relaxing somewhat.

It didn't surprise her that he was hesitant, but she hoped to quickly change that. Grasping the soft hair at the nape of his neck, Marlowe urged him closer. She allowed her tongue to glide along his bottom lip and a satisfied little noise resonated from the back of Talbot's throat. Their kiss deepened, and Marlowe found it to be a bizarre yet wonderful sensation to be with Talbot in such a way. They'd worked alongside each other for years... and yet, she found that she'd never truly seen him until now.

It pained her to admit that it had taken his near-death for her to realize the extent of her appreciation for the only man she'd ever truly trusted... with her work, with her life's pursuit... and now, it seemed... her heart.

Talbot's palm was grazing along her thigh, trailing upwards to brush beneath her chemise. She sighed through their liplock, entertained by the fact that he was getting more adventurous.

They were kissing so hard that Marlowe's lips were going numb, so she pulled away. Eyebrows knitted, Talbot regarded her with a dazed interest as she ran her palms down his chest, admiring the firmness of it. Her hands traveled farther still, tracing invisible lines down his body... grazing the bandages wrapped around his waist and downwards along his taut stomach. Talbot's breath hitched when her exploration dipped down to his hip bones, which jutted attractively from his waist. He had always been on the thin side, but it didn't make him any less appealing. Talbot had a good, strong, body... wiry yet capable.

She knew that she was being an incorrigible tease as her fingertips lingered there, rubbing along the soft flesh of his hips and grazing just below the rim of his boxers... but she was intrigued by Talbot's reactions. Chest heaving noticeably, he was biting his lip against the light, teasing, movements. Marlowe only hoped she wasn't causing him any pain in his fragile state.

When she felt he'd had enough, Marlowe shifted a bit, and deftly slid his boxers down his narrow hips. Her eyes took him in. Despite his pain, he seemed remarkably eager for her.

"Marlowe, I—"

"Shhh…" At Talbot's attempt to form a protest, Marlowe leaned forward to press her index finger to his lips in order to silence him. His blue eyes were dilated while he looked upon her, making them look darker than usual beneath his brow. Sweat was beading upon his forehead, his cheeks looking particularly pallid and his damp hair matted against his face.

If there was any way to make it clear how much Talbot meant to her... she hoped that this would get the point across.

When offered no further protest, she eased herself onto him and Talbot released a loud, pleasured groan as they connected.

Any unnecessary movement on his part could end quite badly, so Talbot remained propped against his pillows. He seemed more than content in allowing Marlowe to take the reins, with his hand gently cupping her backside as she rocked against him and controlled the pace. Marlowe moved gracefully, up and down, their bodies casting shadows in the moonlight.

The noises emitted from Talbot were delectable... his breath coming in shallow, urgent gasps through his parted lips. Marlowe's palms remained upon his chest and it felt as if his heart was beating in perfect rhythm with her own. He was much calmer than she'd expected...looking almost sorrowful as he locked eyes with hers.

Marlowe wondered what it was in particular about Talbot that drove her to such spontaneity... and what made him such an exception in her life. She didn't know what it felt like to break rules and barriers before he'd come along. Half of her warned against it, and the other half wanted to do something daring, something stupid... something new. She wasn't sure what the cards would have in store for them at the end of their encounter, and part of her feared the consequences of her actions, but she tried to keep them far from the forefront of her thoughts. There would be time to dwell on such things later, but now was truly not the time or place. For now, she'd just enjoy it.

Talbot was suddenly breathing harder, his tension growing with each thrust from Marlowe. His teeth were gritted as if in pain, and she felt a pang of guilt that she hadn't allowed him much rest after suffering his injury. It wouldn't be much longer, though.

Marlowe maintained a steady rhythm until she felt his body tense and then release beneath her. Talbot's grip tightened upon her thigh as pleasured convulsions wracked through him, tilting his head back against his pillow and gasping for air.

"Oh, God, " he moaned beneath her. "Ohhhhh, mgggggh, Katherine..."

She found her own release as a satisfied sigh escaped her lips, her muscles tightening around him, but Marlowe couldn't help but feel a bit distracted. Never in her life had she heard Talbot utter her given name. It was a strange sound... not unpleasant, but foreign to her ears. When was the last time someone had even called her that? It must have been years ago. The familiarity of it was terrifying... and at the same time, refreshing. It warmed her from the inside out and simultaneously seemed to send a chill running down her spine.

With both of them left quite breathless, Marlowe eased herself off of him and settled for lying by his side with the sheets pulled back around them. She allowed herself to rest her chin upon his shoulder, with a leg still draped over his hips and an arm across his chest. His breath was hot and pleasant against her skin as he exhaled, not quite evened out.

Talbot's body felt particularly warm as her fingertips traced his breastbone. He seemed a bit feverish, his body lightly saturated in sweat. She'd make sure that the doctor saw him first thing in the morning. But for now, he was hers… and hers alone.

As she silently observed him, Marlowe saw that Talbot was staring at the ceiling, apparently in deep thought. She couldn't help but notice the grim expression that contorted his features, and she honestly wondered what he was thinking about. Again, it was difficult to tell whether it was pain or something more elusive.

All was quiet for several long moments, the only sound in the room was their shallow breathing and the pounding of their hearts... until Talbot broke the silence, his voice barely audible.

"I'm sorry I failed you."

Despite the quietness of his apology, the words seemed to hang heavily in the air as they echoed in her ears. Marlowe couldn't quite fathom that he'd actually uttered them, especially after what they had just shared. Did he really think that a failed mission was of more concern to her than his own life?

She shifted slightly to look directly into his eyes, and it confirmed the answer. The pain had resurfaced in their depths, but she knew for certain it wasn't just physical this time around.

"You really are a fool," she said, her voice cold. His brow furrowed as she shook her head. "Just promise me you won't let it happen again."

"I promise," he said, and then gave a slight pause before continuing. "I can't imagine my life without you."

At his candid words, Marlowe felt that uncomfortable tightness building in her chest once again. It was as if someone had squeezed the air from her lungs and caused her heart to palpitate. How was it that he could so easily express what she never possibly could? It was something that she'd never understand. Before he could utter any further sentiments in the afterglow, Marlowe pressed her lips to his in a lingering kiss. When she pulled away, Talbot was regarding her with an exhausted little smile.

"You should get some rest. You need your strength back."

He seemed unable to argue with that logic as he closed his eyes, body relaxing further against his pillow. Marlowe watched as he fought against sleep for several minutes, eyelids fluttering as if he wished to stay up as long as he possibly could with her by his side. It was endearing, but Talbot eventually succumbed and drifted off, falling into what looked to be a very restful sleep. She would stay for a while longer, just to be sure that he was all right. His wounds were still fresh, after all, and pain was likely to return to him throughout the night.

Still resting against his chest, Marlowe wondered if he'd ever truly know how much he meant to her or how frightened she had been at the possibility of losing him. Perhaps it was better that she kept him guessing. Still, what Talbot saw as a failed mission, she saw as the loss of her entire future... and the only person she'd ever been able to rely upon, fully and completely. Marlowe swore to herself that she'd never let it happen again. Talbot was far too precious to let him slip away so carelessly.

Her fingers ran through his mussed up hair, listening to his steady breathing as he slept. Part of her was still very much afraid, and Talbot's prior words kept replaying in her thoughts like a broken record.

I can't imagine my life without you.

Marlowe had been forced to consider such a life just mere hours ago and it was enough to make her realize that it was a cruel and dark existence... the ultimate wake-up call. She had always heard the old adage that it took nearly losing something to appreciate its true worth. Today, she had learned such a lesson, so simple in its concept, but so difficult to accept and rationalize. Talbot was worth everything to her. As she planted another kiss upon his bruised cheek, she swore to herself that she'd never let herself forget it.