& if I fall and crash and burn,
At least we both know that I try
-Lifehouse


The early fall sun burned a vibrant orange as the noise of the city street filtered through Austin Hawthorne's open window. She lay on her bed recuperating from her latest run in with her favorite city while tearing through the new novel by her favorite author when she heard Danny's key turn in the lock. Quickly, she closed the book and tossed it on the night stand as she burrowed against her pillow and flopped onto her stomach so he couldn't see her horrible poker face as he entered the bedroom. She was slowing her breathing when the bedroom door opened and he toed off his shoes.

Her bed bowed beneath the added weight and he hovered over her in the pushup position before dropping a kiss to the faint scar that curved around her eye. He knew that she had yet to give into sleep and he also knew how hard the case was hanging onto her. The way she had saw herself in the little girl who had taken every beating her father had doled out and never waved a single inch. He saw the way Austin wanted to throw herself over the girl, take her and run so that the man may never lay another finger on her ever again. Unfortunately, this time, evil had one and the little girl had been sent back to her father's abusive home despite the detective's earnest pleadings to the contrary.

He moved the deep brown spiral curls from her neck and his chapped lips traced the long scar that he had unfortunately been a partner in inflicting almost twenty years prior. It had been the fourth of July and Danny and Andrew had been eleven, Austin was on the cusp of ten and had a smile that stole the breath from his chest for a reason he had yet to learn. They had been playing with fireworks in the alley between their homes when a Roman Candle had misfired and hit Austin in the back of the neck while the boys were horsing around. No amount of placating could take away the guilt he had felt for the weeks following that terrible incident.

Scars littered her body like paintings on cave walls told stories. They told the story of Austin Hawthorne – the warrior who had endured despite it all. He continued on his way kissing the wrist she had broken in a fight with her old man, the scar on her stomach from appendicitis, and through the hole in her jeans he kissed the knee she had shattered when she slipped on the wet pipe while trying to sneak out.

Crawling up the bed he wrapped his arm around her middle and settled his chin into the crook of her neck. Sleepily, she interlaced their fingers as she leaned back against him and he pressed a kiss to the hinge of her jaw.

Austin managed to finally give into sleep with the knowledge that the boy who had been her knight in torn up Levis and Yankees gear was there to keep the demons at bay.