A/N: Thank you for the reviews, especially pgbl for the encouragement, don't worry :) , just a little bit longer!

Also, chapter 9 contains a rather graphic passage where Kenzie gives Gunner some 'trouser love' lol. I think its worth the M rating. Do you guys want to read the original version, or have me PG it down a bit? Let me know what you want!

"I'm gonna go." Gunner stalked past Tool to the door, disbelief mixing with anger. Stupid bastard, he berated himself, stepping out of the shop and reaching his bike. You just had to push it, he started the bike, pulled away. Couldn't be happy with the progress, had to fuck it up. Good job, Kenzie's probably regressed right back. His thoughts dark, circling and nipping. Gunner drove home, not trusting himself to stop anywhere without causing trouble.

Roaring up his driveway Gunner parked the bike and stomped up to the house. His new kitten, Turk, sensing his owner's foul mood, yawned from his bed on top of the fridge and returned to sleep. Pacing on the deck overlooking the bayou did nothing to soothe Gunner's nerves, his thoughts continuing to race with grim predictions of how badly he'd just messed up whatever little chance he'd still had with Kenzie. Finally giving into the temptation of oblivion, Gunner stalked back to the living room and opened the liquor cabinet, fishing out the half-empty bottle of vodka he's not touched in months. Selecting an LP at random from his newly reorganized collection, Gunner flicked on the turntable and dropped the needle. Not bad, some earlier Black Keys. Gunner settled on the couch, took a swig of vodka, only to stand back up again with a growl when 'I'll Be Your Man' started and his thoughts clamoured to remind him that in all likelihood, he was no longer Kenzie's man.

"Goddammit. " He grumbled, grabbing a Motorhead at random without looking at the cover and dropping the needle, letting Lemmy's unique British growl fill the air. He was just getting lost in the album when 'Dirty Love' started.

"Motherfucker!" Gunner growled, jumping to his feet again. One memorable night, driving home from a movie, 'Dirty Love' had come on the radio and Kenzie had pulled her LandCruiser over with a screech of brakes and climbed over into Gunner's lap. Before he'd even been able to ask what the hell she was doing, Kenzie had lifted her skirt, unzipped his jeans, freed his cock and lowered herself down on him.

"What the fuck?" He'd gasped, rapidly overcome with the sheer eroticism of the attack.

"This song always does it for me." Kenzie had moaned in his ear, stripping off her shirt to reveal that she was fully commando tonight and pulling Gunner's head down into her breasts. She'd rode him hard and fast to a simultaneous orgasm then, almost primly, returned to the driver's seat and drove away.

Christ, rock hard from the memory, Gunner yanked Motorhead off the turntable and, more carefully this time, selected a third record. There, a neutral album, AC/DC - Blow Up Your Video. With a groan, his crotch painfully tight, Gunner sat back down. He knew from miserable experience gained in the last three months that jerking off would do nothing to release the pressure and frustration knotting him up inside. Taking another huge swallow of vodka, he settled back and glanced sideways at the armchair across the room.

"Jesus Christ." He moaned, quickly looking away but it was too late. Apparently tonight, the Grey Goose was conspiring to drive Gunner crazy, throwing open the doors to his most dirty memories of Kenzie. One of her favourite games, and one Gunner loved to play as well, was to push him down into that very armchair, turn on some sexy song - Rob Zombie's Pussy Liquor was a favourite - and dance a striptease before straddling Gunner for toe curling armchair sex.

With a snarl, Gunner threw the vodka bottle across the room, watching with satisfaction when it shattered on the far wall. Determined now to drink away these memories quickly, before he'd get a chance to find his phone, Gunner dug into the cabinet again, triumphantly pulling out a full bottle of Jack Daniels. Breaking the seal, he took a long pull, swaying slightly; his tolerance for alcohol apparently gone with three months of grim sobriety. The fact that he'd just put away half a 2-4 of vodka in the last half hour on an empty stomach surely contributed, but at this point, Gunner didn't care. The sooner he blacked out, the better.


Kenzie pulled away from Tool's shop with a screech of brakes, shifting gears quickly, double-clutching.

"Sorry, old boy." She apologized to her old Toyota as she ground between second and third gear. What the fuck, she berated herself, slamming her hands on the wheel. What's your problem? It felt good, didn't it? You've missed Gunner, more than you even really understand, so why the hell did you run? Kenzie's thoughts snapped and snarled, circling her like a rabid animal. It's been three fucking months, get it together. But you know what, headcase, it's probably too late. That little cocktease stunt you just pulled probably pissed him off for the last time. He's not going to wait forever for you. Gunner's done with you, he's going to find some girl without all the baggage. Good job, you just screwed up the best thing you've ever had.

This angry, violent voice had been Kenzie's constant companion these past three months, despite Dr. Fellows attempts to help her resolve her guilt. 'It's not your fault,' he'd tell her, 'you need to go easy on yourself, you've done nothing wrong and made amazing progress. Give yourself some credit.'

In the last week or so, Kenzie had been successful at dampening the voice, was overcoming it, replacing it with a more forgiving, kind commentary, but it had come screaming back to her as she accelerated for home. She hated the voice, knew it was both dangerous and unhealthy, not to mention unfair, but since Brazil, she'd had such a hard time. Every time she thought she was relaxing, getting better, Saulter's scarred face would appear in her mind's eye, sneering at her as he held her down, raping her again and again as she screamed. Just now, feeling Gunner behind her, his hand gripping her hip, his arm warm around her shoulders and his masculine scent; musk, motor oil and leather, enveloping her; Kenzie had felt so relaxed and peaceful. Old stirrings had begun, she'd just been about to turn in his arms and crush herself to Gunner's broad chest when that familiar milky-eyed sneer had leered at her and cold panic had taken over. She'd panicked, jerked out of the suddenly constricting embrace, and just as quickly, Saulter's image had dissolved, leaving her facing a confused Gunner. Embarrassed and frustrated, Kenzie'd turned tail and ran, and now regretted it. Without remembering the drive, she now found herself in her driveway, engine ticking. With a frustrated moan, Kenzie slammed the Cruiser's door and stomped to the house. Ruger, her personal protection dog, met her as she opened the front door.

A few weeks after Brazil, Toll had come to her and mentioned that he had a friend who bred, raised and trained protection dogs and did Kenzie want to meet him? Kenzie had jumped at the opportunity, still afraid to be home alone and not wanting to inconvenience the team by having them stay over all the time, although any one of them would have, no questions asked. Toll's friend, an ex-military gentle giant named, of all things, Tiny, had matched her to Ruger, a two year old Rottweiller he'd specially trained for personal protection and he'd been her constant companion since.

"Hey buddy," Kenzie cooed, dropping to her knees. She and Ruger had bonded instantly, and she felt 100% safe home alone now. After a quick cuddle, Kenzie dashed upstairs and changed into leggings and a sports bra, hustled down into her basement gym, Ruger following. A few weeks after Brazil, Luna, Lee, Smilee and Thorn had set up an elliptical and treadmill in Kenzie's basement; and Luna had introduced Kenzie into gentle exercising, not for physical recovery, but for mental peace. Kenzie found that an hour on the elliptical did wonders at calming her thoughts. Doc had added meditation about a month ago and that was was definitely helping calm Kenzie's guilt and anger.

An hour later, Kenzie's side was sore, but her thoughts had calmed, that angry voice having retired to it's cave to bite on its own foot for awhile, and Kenzie returned to her master suite to shower, fashioning a waterproof cover out of saran wrap for her side. A long hot shower relaxed her further and, finally hungry, she reheated some seafood pizza from the fridge and put in a chick flick.

A few minutes later, Kenzie ejected the disc. The leading man was tall and blonde, and although that's all he had in common with Gunner, it was enough to jumble her thoughts again. Finally, she threw in the first Lord of the Rings, hoping fantasy would distract her; Viggo Mortensen wouldn't hurt either. Ruger settled in beside her, resting his head on her ankle.

In disgust, Kenzie turned the DVD off halfway through, she'd forgotten until now that the last time she'd watched this had been with Gunner, and he'd laughed at the Hobbits until Kenzie'd tackled him and told him to shut up. Gunner had wrestled her down easily and tickled her into submission, the tickles quickly turning into heavy petting and ending in sex bent over the back of the couch.

"For shit's sake." Kenzie muttered. No use tormenting herself, she'd screwed this up royally; her days of play wrestling with her blond giant were over. Turning back to the TV, she half-watched the Spike Channel, reading the same pages of the new paperback she'd bought over and over again. Despite being 60 pages in, Kenzie would be hard pressed to explain plot, setting or any characters and with a groan, tossed the book on the table, turned off the TV and stomped upstairs. After introducing her to meditation a month ago, Doc had helped Kenzie set up the spare bedroom upstairs as a meditation chamber, and she headed there now. Dimming the lights, she settled on her heels in the middle of the room and firmly tapped the edge of the Tibetan singing bowl set on the low table in front of her, then picked up the necklace of Mala beads beside the bowl and closed her eyes. Like Doc, Kenzie didn't subscribe to any specific form of mediation, just picked and chose what worked best for her. Not quite an hour later, Kenzie opened up her eyes again, feeling more relaxed than before. Wincing slightly, she stood and left, deciding to go to bed.

A few minutes later, Kenzie climbed into her king-size bed, bought to share with her mammoth man and now sadly over-sized for just one person; well, one person and one dog, Ruger often ended up stretched out at the end, whimpering and chasing rabbits in his dreams. Despite her relaxation earlier, Kenzie soon found herself tossing and turning, dozing fitfully, but always jolting awake again. Gunner's side of the bed was too empty, too cold without him. The flip numbers on her retro alarm clock moved far too slowly for Kenzie, and finally, at 3:18 am, she gave up and climbed out, having reached a decision.

Reaching for her favourite tank top, a Metallica t-shirt of Gunner's she'd swiped and modified, she pulled it on then shimmied into clean jeans. Grabbing her keys off the table, she paused, leafing through the legal paperwork scattered there. Kenzie had visited a real estate agent earlier this week and the papers were a finalization of sale. New York, she thought, full circle.

The streets were deserted, she made good time and within minutes had pulled up to her destination. Gunner's house was dark, but his truck and bike were in the driveway. The key was still where it had been before and Kenzie let herself in quietly.

"Gunner?" She called softly.

A meow answered her, a half-grown kitten trotting up to her. "Hey, kitty." Kenzie grinned, reaching down and picking him up. "Turk, huh? Didn't know Gunner'd gotten a cat." She set the cat back down and he ran to his empty dish, meowing hungrily. After opening a few cupboards, disoriented; had Gunner reorganized his entire kitchen? she wondered, found cat food and filled his dish, topping up the water.

That done, Kenzie continued into the living room. LPs lay scattered everywhere, there was a dark stain on the far wall with a pile of shattered glass on the floor underneath it, and oddly, Kenzie's favourite armchair was covered with a blanket and turned to face the wall. What the hell was Gunner doing? Loud snores told Kenzie that Gunner was asleep in the bedroom and, as she entered, the stink of whiskey told her he'd passed out. Gunner lay face down, spread-eagle on the bed. An empty bottle of Jack in his right hand, his left hand curled tightly into Kenzie's pillow, a picture frame resting beside his hand. Quietly Kenzie moved to the bed, picked up the frame. It was her favourite picture, a selfie she'd taken in the hammock outside, her smiling up at the camera, Gunner with his head turned, eyes closed, tenderly kissing her cheek. Gunner had passed out staring at this picture tonight.

Carefully, Kenzie sat on the bed beside the sleeping mercenary. "Gunner?" She called quietly. Gunner snorted but didn't wake. Kenzie reached out, gently rested her hand on his upper thigh, just below his ass. "Gunner." She tried again, gently shaking her hand. Gunner mumbled and turned his head towards her, but remained sleeping. Grinning, he was going to have a wicked hangover, Kenzie squeezed his leg and said louder, "Gunner, wake up."

With a groan, Gunner opened his eyes and stared blearily at Kenzie. Surprised he raised his head. "Kenzie? Baby, what are you doing here?" He mumbled, struggling upright, giving up halfway and supporting himself with one hand, turning his body to face her. "Are you okay?" He asked, concerned.

"I'm fine, I came by to tell you something."

Gunner waited, biting his lower lip. Kenzie had never seen him look so miserable.

Knee-walking towards him, Kenzie reached out and gently cupped Gunner's cheek with her hand. Closing his eyes with an almost inaudible moan, Gunner leaned his head into her palm, a tear streaking down his cheek.

"What did you want to tell me?" He whispered.

A/N: I hope you're enjoying Gunner's Last Christmas so far!

I have two story paths in my head right now. Path 1, Kenzie cuts all ties with the Expendables and moves back to New York, where Gunner may or may not follow her. Maybe he goes out on a job with the team with no intentions of returning alive...or Path 2...Kenzie stays...

Review please and tell me which story path you'd like to see! ;)