Here is what I know now
Goes like this:
In your love, my salvation lies

Beck woke with a start in the first moments of morning, feeling parched and exhausted. He hauled himself out of bed carefully and slipped in to the bathroom. His mouth tasted awful, he realized.

He grabbed the toothbrush and toothpaste Heather has supplied the night before and made quick work of his teeth. After his final spit, he felt refreshed and awake, yet still thirsty. There were no large drinking cups in the bathroom, so he headed down to the first floor, intent on a large glass of cool water. As it filled his throat and washed away his thirst, he sighed in joy.

For so long he'd been at the whim of his jailer. At the mercy of men who hated him as much as they were at a loss with what to do with him.

The simple fact that he was standing in Heather's kitchen, wearing comfortable and clean pants, while drinking a glass of water without asking anyone for permission, was awe-inspiring.

He turned to look out the window over the sink and stood there for a few moments, watching the sun as it peeked up over the tree line. Twenty four hours ago he'd been in another state, starved and hopeless.

This dawn brought the type of joy that he'd only dreamed of lately.

He filled the glass again, draining it easily. Warm hands slid from his sides to his stomach and he felt Heather against his back. He knew she'd seen the scars. Perhaps it was time to tell her. He spun in her embrace and wrapped his own arms around her shoulders to pull her close.

She smelled sleepy, if that was possible. Hair still slightly damn and smelling of soap. He took a deep breath before dropping a kiss on the top of her head. She looked up at him and his breath caught in his throat at the sight of her eyes.

If he wasn't mistaken, love was staring back at him. The thought caused his stomach to clench in anticipation and almost surprise. His lips lowered and he kissed deeply. She pushed back almost immediately. "Please, let me brush my teeth first at least."

He leaned down again and nipped at her bottom lip not the least bit concerned. She still tasted good to him. She pried him off and put her hand over her mouth.

"Does this mean we're awake now?"

She laughed and started back towards the stairs.

"I suppose. There are eggs in the fridge, if you're inspired."

Beck could have sworn there was a hair toss in there somewhere and he grinned. He was starting to like the new Heather that he'd found yesterday. She seemed sassy, and not in her usual flirtatious way. There was some deep confidence inside of her that had grown from the war and for once, he wasn't cursing Cheyenne for something. He was mildly thankful that he wouldn't see her looking as unsure as she's been accused of looking at something in his office that she shouldn't have.

She had grown in to a well-rounded woman he realized. And she seemed very open to accepting him in to her life, and even her heart, if he wasn't reading her the wrong way. It was entirely possible, he guessed. They had a lot of catching up to do.

He shook his head again and turned back to the sink. The sunlight blinded him momentarily and he blinked in the light before looking around for the necessary pans for breakfast.

Heather heard the sounds filter up the stairs and smiled to herself. She was brushing out her hair, having just finished with her teeth. There were still some damp spots, but they would dry. And the horrible bed head would be well hidden in a ponytail. But later. She hadn't had a meal cooked for her in a cook's age.

She tried very hard not to skip down the stairs in anticipation. At the doorway to the kitchen, she paused and leaned against the door frame, again lost in the sight of the scars on Beck's back.

Long and thin, she could tell that they were whip scars. Many wrapped around his shoulders and arms. There were many sets as well, as though he'd had time to heal then be whipped again.

It brought a shiver down her spine to think about someone doing that to another person, let alone Beck.

Her smile was small and tight. Her Beck.

She raised her head high, proud to be the woman that was sharing this glorious morning with him and she approached him from behind again. He was cooking now, utensils in each hand, stirring one pan and moving around scrambled eggs with the other.

Underneath her fingers, his back muscles tensed for a slit second before relaxing and she rested against him fully. She didn't think she'd ever get used to the feel of the man. Her lips kissed him between his shoulder blades and she smiled; she'd hopefully never tire of the taste of him either.

He chuckled at her show of affection. "Somehow I don't think you're going to be much help clasped to my back like that. I'm not sure where your dishes are; would you mind setting the table, I'm almost done."

She kissed his back again and moved away, grabbing a couple of plates and forks. Her table was more of an island, with stools for seating and she arranged their layouts across from one another. She wanted to talk with him, to find out what he'd been through and she knew that if she tried to sit right next to him, he'd only want to move her. She was positive that hadn't changed about him; that he'd want to face his battles head on.

Heather sat down and watched him some more. His muscles seemed to be unaffected by the scarring but there were really so many. He hadn't winced the night before when she'd clawed at his back while they were in the shower. A stab of guilt flooded her when she realized some of the marks were still bright red and most assuredly from her.

He turned and she averted her eyes to the table, clearing a spot between loose papers and her salt and pepper shakers, which she'd kept full with a vengeance. He took the seat across from her and dished out the eggs first, and then a side of berries that he'd been warming on the stove.

Her eyebrow rose at the fruit. He saw it, and shrugged, serving himself. "I love berries."

"Warm? For breakfast? That seems a little strange."

He shrugged again, taking a large bite of his eggs. "I take it you've never eaten berry pancakes?"

She laughed and tried the eggs herself. They were a touch bland, but she didn't reach for any spice. She was used to her food not having the same caliber of flavor as it used to. She was use to a slightly bland world.

The joking expression on Beck's face made her think that her life was about to get a shock. She smiled back at him. She was more than ready for a change in pace.

Silent, they made their way through breakfast and Heather acknowledged, much to Beck's pleasure, that the berries really were a fine touch. She wished she would have thought of it sooner.

As the last forkful of eggs made its way to her mouth, Beck chose that exact moment to start questioning her. "So, how have you fared over the years?"

She struggled with swallowing quickly; taking in a large gulp of the glass of water he'd placed in from of her before answering. "Ya know, not all that bad. Once the AS left us alone, we got along fairly well. All of the surrounding farms are producing again. We're expecting 100% yield this fall. Not only that but we have hopes that by the time winter comes around we'll have all houses fixed up and occupied again."

"I noticed that there's a lot of corn growing. I'm happy. This part of America corn was always a back bone."

She smiled and nodded. "Sure. We've got a lot of other good things going too. There's a dairy farm up and running. We have milk. Not a lot ya know, but some. It was a pain finding cows, but we managed well enough. Once the AS left us alone."

He regarded her over the rim of his water glass. "Things were bad then? For a while at least?" He seemed distressed, badly, over this thought.

"I guess. We had a lot of bombings. You should see Main Street. Half is in ruins; the other half is hanging on by a prayer. The worst was the last time they came through. They knew they wouldn't be back, we think, so they did as much damage as they could." Unconsciously her right hand rubbed her left, going over the small scars there.

His hand captured them both and stilled her movement. She glanced down, entranced by his darker skin over hers. "Is that how you got these?"

She nodded, looking up at him. Praying she didn't look as torn up outside as she felt inside, she attempted a smile and explained. "I was in Bailey's. They were trying to hit town hall and the majority of it did. Some, however, fell wherever. I was standing by the door. It was foolish of me. A bomb landed right outside the door and I had enough sense to try and get away."

His eyes were on her old injuries and she wondered if he could imagine how painful it had been when they'd removed each piece of glass from her side. How much she wished she was dead or that Kenchi could at least knock her out.

Her gaze shifted down to their hands, and she sighed at the scars on his own hand. She supposed he knew exactly how that must have felt. If not even more so.

"How did you get yours?"

She didn't need to say scars and he didn't need her to. Not withdrawing one bit, Beck actually leaned forward.

"Well, I guess I should tell you the whole truth."

Her voice was faint when she said, "And nothing but the truth?"

Her humor was lost in the saddened air but she at least got a smile out of Beck for it.

"They took me first to Fort Liberty. I spent three weeks in a holding cell waiting to find out if I was going to be executed for treason. That was the expected ending. Every day I was grilled by some hot shot Lieutenant until one day Colonel Hoffman came to see me. Do you remember him?"

Heather nodded. She'd probably never forget the man who'd seemed so helpful when in the end it was a means to his own goals that made him an ally.

"Hoffman gave me two choices. I could atone for my disobedience or I could be forced to atone." He sighed, drawing his hand back and folding it with his other in front of him. "When I still refused to cooperate, they shipped me off to Loomer for the duration of the war. I was lucky. I knew it then and I know it now. I don't know who eventually kept me from the firing squad, but I was grateful."

"Then. After the first week in Loomer, I was beginning to think death would have been preferable." He shifted now, clearly uncomfortable for the first time since he'd woken up. "Hoffman had meant torture when he said I would be forced to atone. They whipped me every morning like clockwork. Almost every day they were careful not to break the skin. The soldier doing the whipping said that if he broke skin I'd have to heal before he could resume."

His eyes were cold when they finally looked up at Heather and her heart broke for him then. She took the initiative, reaching across the table and twining her fingers in with his.

"They taunted me plenty. In between badgering me endlessly for answers. The first time I realized that this was something I would be enduring for a long time was the first time they brought up my family. They had pictures. Pictures of my wife and daughter lying in a ditch, holes riddled in their bodies. I hadn't wanted to look, but I couldn't take my eyes off of them. They looked authentic. They didn't look fabricated."

"I didn't want to believe them, and a part of me didn't. It still fought them every time they moved me from location to location and it kept me strong. It put me to sleep and woke me before their fists and boots did. It kept me sane, for a while at least."

"Three months in, Hoffman came back to me and told me that my family had been found in a FEMA camp a month after the bombs. That they'd been killed in a food riot." Beck's hands clenched and Heather tightened her grip, wanting him to know that she was there for him.

"I still didn't want to believe. I hated him for saying it, and I didn't want to think it was possible. I fought harder after that. Another month or two went by and he came back. This time, he had my wife's wedding ring with him. He threw it at me and said, calmly, that I had nothing. That I needed to cooperate.

"Honestly I don't even know what they were expecting from me. Now that I know the whole story, I know that Jake and Hawkins had already made it back to Jericho and that the AS was bombing and all that. I couldn't conceive what I had locked away that the AS would want for me."

"It was clear they just wanted to break me because I cried for the first time that day. I broke clean through and they carried me to a new cell, this one made for long term residents." Tears in his eyes again, Heather had to comfort him. Rounding the table, her arms circled him easily and she buried her face in the crook of his neck. The angle was awkward, but she needed him to know that everything would be all right.

Softly, he continued. "I spent four years in that cell, leaving twice a day. Once, at 5 AM, I was lined up with the other POW's and forced to do PT. Then, at 5 PM we did it all again. For four years that was my life. The hours between though, they were made easy."

"Easy? How could they have possibly been easy?"

"They were easy because I had someone in my thoughts that kept me going. Heather, the thought of you kept my mind sharp. Kept me together. They may have broken my spirit but they couldn't take you away from me."

"Oh Beck." He shifted her suddenly, turning on the stool and holding her close, between his legs. She held on tight, feeling the hurt and pain that had been stored in side of him for ages now. He suddenly seemed much older to her now. The things he must have been through; she was sure that he was the strongest man she would ever know.

He didn't cry as he held her. It felt enough for him to simply hold her. She wanted to give him more though. She wanted him to completely let go of the anguish he held. Slowly, she leaned backwards and, framing his face with her hands, brought her gaze back to him.

"I'm sorry. For everything you've been through. But it's over now. You only have better days to look forward to now."

His frown deepened; she wasn't sure that was possible. "How can you be sure Heather? How can anyone be sure that the dark days of war were any worse than what we're faced with now?"

"Well for one," she said, brushing hair away from his eyes. "You've got me. And I've got you. At least for a while. That's enough, I would think, to make the next few days infinitely happier."

She smiled softly at him, but her mouth rounded in surprise when his arms around her tightened and he rose, lifting her with him. His mouth found hers and he kissed deeply, without restraint. She groaned with need, knowing that she would never have enough of him.

Before she could process fully that they were entwined so tightly, he was laying her down on the table, his hands clearing away pans and dishes. They clattered to the floor, sharp bangs that were forgotten in their passion. "Dear God Heather, I could drown in you."

She laughed as his hands found the buttons on her shirt and started working down them. "Well, if you do, be assured that I am fully trained in CPR."

He laughed then too, and Heather's heavy anguish for him lifted slightly. His hands were on her bare skin now and any traces of anguish or sadness fled from her mind with maddening ease.

He bent to kiss her again. Heather's lips parted in anticipation. Both of them were shocked by the sound of a door being kicked in and the angry voice of Jake Green thundering from the front hallway. Heather looked up and behind her, seeing an enraged Sheriff bearing towards them, gun already drawn.

Jake's face would have been priceless with shock if he hadn't chosen such an inopportune time to bust through her front door. As it was, he realized exactly what was going on the very moment Beck raised his eyes and locked gazes with the younger man.

In the following moments, Beck was pulled off of Heather, who screamed Jake's name in an effort to stop the man while also trying to cover herself up. She would have been irritated at Jake seeing so much of her, if Jake had been paying any attention to her at all.

His sight was firmly on Beck and his anger was overflowing as he pistol whipped Beck across the face, sending him sprawling to the floor. Heather gave Jake a mighty shove, sending him towards the back door and away from Beck.

"What the hell is wrong with you Jake?" She bent next to the unconscious man, thinking that it would be a miracle if Beck made it out of Jericho without at least one serious concussion.

"He was attacking you! And what the hell is he doing here anyway? Why wasn't he executed? They should have executed him."

Reality slammed in to Heather finally and her angry eyes turned to her friend. "Dammit Jake. Would you let that fucking go? He wasn't attacking me and he's here as my guest. I brought him back with me yesterday." She didn't even both making sure Jake understood what she was saying. She rose and dampened a cloth, going back to Beck to wipe at the wound seeping from his forehead.

It was deep; she groaned thinking of finding someone to patch him up.

Behind her, Jake shuffled closer and he holstered his sidearm before kneeling next to Heather. She gave him a quick glance and was slightly relieved to see some form of concern on his face. "You should have told me Heather."

"And would that have stopped you from hurting him? Would you have come in here any differently than you just did?"

"Of course. I heard something crash to the floor when I was about to knock. I was afraid you were in danger."

Heather rolled her eyes. On the floor, Beck groaned and winced. His eyes fluttered open. He looked blankly at Heather and Beck before his memory cleared. With a growl, Beck threw his fist at Jake, awkwardly from being on the floor. He impacted hard enough to send Jake rocking back on his heels and to his ass.

"What the hell is it about my head that makes people think I like to be knocked out?"

Heather helped him in to a sitting position. His eyes never leaving Jake, he gave her hand a squeeze as he adjusted. His back was against the stove, his knees up and his feet only a foot from Jake's. He had a very insistent voice telling him to lash out at Jake again but resisted the urge. The feeling of control made his head more clear in any case.

A few tense moments passed in which no one said anything, each too absorbed in their own thoughts and a staring contest going strong between the two men. Neither wanted to be the one to back down, but Jake knew that if he wanted to keep Heather as a friend, he'd have to work on making amends for the attack.

Slowly he climbed to his feet and offered Beck a hand. The other man glared up at him until Heather physically pushed him in to a standing position, with Jake's help. "I'm sure you can understand my concern for Heather."

"That still doesn't explain the gun to the temple thing though."

Jake sighed. "I'm sure you can understand my disdain for you."

"Trust me. I understand. All too well. At least I didn't use whips. Or images of your dead family. Or the knowledge that the only people in the world that you loved weren't in danger of dying but were already dead and gone. I had no joy in what I did to you Jake. It hurt me too, whether you want to believe that or not."

Taking Beck's words in, Jake glanced out the window and sighed again. He chose to actively ignore what the other man had said, instead addressing Heather. "You know the rules Heather. We need to take him in and get him checked out."

She nodded, resigned. The ruse was up. There would be no point in arguing now. "Fine." Warily, she ran a hand through her hair before catching the look of resignation that was on Beck's face as well.

After changing in to a pair of cargo pants and a shirt for herself and a shirt for Beck, she followed them both in to the sunshine.