More Tallowe. For once, this one actually takes place in-game... after Talbot's fight with Nate in Yemen. I have no idea what inspired this. It just kinda happened. In a way, I guess it kind of parallels Nate and Elena's scene when Drake returns to her.

I haven't forgotten about Chloe and Cutter by the way. Just haven't been inspired to write them lately.

Back to You

Talbot knew that he had it coming the moment he stepped foot in Marlowe's hotel room. Limping slightly and with a rather ferocious headache, he opened the door and stepped inside. He had hardly made it through the doorway when Marlowe rounded the corner, hands upon her hips.

"There you are. I was beginning to think you weren't coming back. Then again, I can't say I blame you after the little stunt you pulled..."

He resisted the urge to lean against the door frame in an attempt to keep himself upright. Had she planned what she was going to say to him? It certainly felt like it. Talbot stood, rubbing absentmindedly at his arm and feeling like a child being berated.

"The trip took longer than expected."

In fact, everything took longer than expected when you had to brawl your way across an entire city.

"What on earth were you thinking running off like that?"

He tried not to recoil at her words as she regarded him with an expression that was nothing short of unnerving.

"I felt it would be best."

"Well, you thought wrong," she snapped. "You were lucky that Ramses followed your path of destruction and arrived when he did. I don't even want to think about what might have happened if Drake had escaped again..."

It was already painfully apparent to Talbot that he'd made a thoughtless move running away from Drake. His initial plan of luring him away from Marlowe had turned into a full blown chase through the heart of Yemen. His ears were still ringing from the battle that had ensued after Drake had caught up to him, and his body ached. Talbot had underestimated the man, both in physical strength and stamina... and now he was paying for it.

The fact that Ramses had saved the day was of little comfort to him. While it was opportune timing at its finest, Talbot still preferred the satisfaction of taking out Drake himself, and he'd failed both himself and Marlowe.

"Please forgive me." Shoulders slumped, the words were mumbled. He was exhausted, overheated and in a great deal of pain. While he was tempted to defend his actions, he simply didn't have the strength to do so. "It won't happen again."

"It had better not. Despite your foolishness, we still managed to capture him."

He was well aware of the fact that Drake could have easily escaped. Talbot wasn't sure if Drake harbored any murderous intent towards him, but either way, Marlowe was only pouring salt in his already-stinging wounds. A sigh escaped her lips as she crossed her arms over her chest, her features suddenly less severe as she looked him up and down.

"Are you injured?"

"No," he said, shaking his head tiredly. The worst of his injuries seemed to be a couple of broken ribs. It was nothing he couldn't deal with.

"Liar. Sit down."

Talbot crossed the room and sat, carefully, upon the sofa. He could see his reflection in the decorative mirror hanging on the far wall. He was sporting a couple of scrapes across his face, a bloodied lip and a bruise forming on his cheek.

Without any warning, Marlowe sat on his lap, straddling his hips as Talbot hissed through his teeth. He hadn't expected her to press upon his thigh. Whether the discomfort was from one of Drake's punches or one of his many falls, he wasn't sure... but no doubt, there were bruises on top of bruises.

She shifted so as not to hurt him further, and began unbuttoning his waistcoat.

"You were doing so well for awhile," she said. "I'd almost gotten used to you not crawling back to my doorstep half-mangled."

Though the words were said quite seriously, Talbot could tell by the look in her eyes that she was teasing him.

"It could have been worse," he quipped. In their line of work, there was always room for worse.

"True. Still, I told you not to underestimate Nathan."

"A mistake I won't make again," he said, with his brow furrowed.

At that, Marlowe looked rather pleased. Her fingertips grazed his neck as she undid his tie, letting it hang loosely around his shoulders.

"And you won't have to, since Ramses is taking him far away from here." She paused for a second to pat his chest in a patronizing yet affectionate sort of way. "He won't meddle with us any longer."

Talbot's shoulder's settled back against the sofa , breathing deeply and feeling a nagging pain in his ribcage as he inhaled. Lips parted, he watched Marlowe intently. Still wearing her outfit from earlier in the day, she had rid herself of her leather jacket and was looking much more comfortable in her blouse and riding pants, and infinitely more relaxed. Her demeanor indicated an unusual dropping of her guard. In fact, she actually seemed content for a change. If she weren't in such a genial mood, he had a feeling that despite his condition, she'd have been much harsher upon his return. It wasn't quite the welcome he'd expected... but he wasn't about to jinx it.

As she continued to undress him, each of his shirt buttons was undone deliberately as Marlowe worked her way downwards and then untucked his shirt.

Talbot didn't need to look himself over to know that he was battered. Marlowe gazed over him as she softly ran her palms down his bare chest, along his ribs, across his stomach... she traced every bump, scrape and bruise... and a lightheaded feeling rushed over him at her invigorating touch.

"So, where do we go from here?" he asked.

"I could escort you to the bedroom," she said in a matter-of-fact kind of way, as if she were discussing a business deal.

"Oh," he smiled. Leave it to Marlowe to make her desires clear the moment he was weary and beaten. "I meant... now that we have both Drake and Sullivan."

"Our convoy won't be leaving for a couple of hours, so it appears that we can rest for a while."

That was good news, as there was nothing he could have wanted more in the current moment. Neither of them had gotten much sleep as of late.

"Sullivan revealed the coordinates?"

Talbot felt guilty that he was busy dealing with Drake and had left Marlowe to take care of Sullivan herself, but he knew that she was more than capable of the task.

"Effortlessly. I meant what I said. Victor truly is only ever in it for himself. He needs his precious Nathan to save the day, so when we threatened his life, he crumbled."

The words were said without any contempt, and Talbot got the distinctive feeling that she was somehow at peace, as she would soon be concluding the chapter of her life that contained Victor in it. Though she didn't speak of him often, he knew for a fact that seeing him again bothered her, especially given their rough history together. It wasn't on a personal level, she was far above that, but it was more of an annoyance that she even had to associate with him. Alas, business was business... and he hoped that finding Iram could allow Marlowe some much needed rest, both of body and of soul after twenty long years. Although the business of Drake's ring predated his arrival onto the scene, it didn't make the matter any less important. Whatever Marlowe wanted, he was more than willing to aid her in the task of obtaining it.

Though it pained him to acknowledge it, Talbot sometimes wondered if she would do the same in Sullivan's position. Would Marlowe reveal twenty years worth of information to save his life? Marlowe had always viewed emotion as a weakness... and feelings as something that could be cast aside. She was the kind of woman who spoke with actions more than her words, like a secret code, and though Talbot had years of experience in decoding her, there were always those mysterious gray areas.

Perhaps, for his own good, there were some answers that were better off not knowing. It didn't lessen his admiration for Marlowe, or reduce her perfection in his eyes.

As his mind continued to wander, Marlowe's arms enveloped him, slipping around his waist and beneath his open shirt. The smoothness of her hands rubbed along his back, creating a massaging motion as she rested her chin against his shoulder. Talbot sighed against the pleasant warmth of her body and hesitantly brought a palm to the base of her neck, gently cradling her head against him.

"So, about my prior invitation..." Marlowe whispered, as she breathed into his ear and began kissing his neck. It sent pleasant tingles racing down his spine as goosebumps rose upon his skin despite the heat.

"Marlowe," he sighed with a frown. His fingers absentmindedly toyed with the feathery layers of hair at the back of her head. "I regret to say it, but I can hardly move."

"Well, I think we can work with that."

Pulling away from her handiwork on his neckline, she graced him with a genuine, albeit mischievous, smile. Her mouth met his own, soft and pleasant against his dry, bloodied, lips. As they kissed deeply, Talbot's pain was all but forgotten.

Their kiss was broken as she pressed her forehead to his, staring intently into Talbot's eyes. Marlowe often had a way of looking at him that made him feel very small...but other times, like in this instance, Talbot felt like the most fortunate man in the world. Invincible, capable, safe. As he became lost in their clear, green, depths, his earlier question resounded in his head.

Would she trade it all, throw it all away for him...?

Though she might never admit it, or have the chance to prove it, Talbot saw the answer as she gazed upon him. It was something that not even the sands of time could change, and whatever the consequences, he'd keep on coming back to her... if only to have another glimpse at the unspoken answers in her captivating eyes.