I was wondering why my traffic graph was blowing up, and then I realized the new season started! Somehow I got it in my head it would only start in August, so that was a lovely surprise.
Again, I want to apologize to everyone for the long periods in between chapters. I haven't given up on this story, but I spent the last few months writing my 90-page graduation thesis, so I was all tapped out on energy to write. That being said, my thesis is handed in (yay me!) and I hope I'll manage to keep up a more regular schedule with updating. :)
Oh also, fyi. There's sex in here, so whoever is uncomfortable with reading that might want to skip over it. It's pretty evident where it starts. Might be time to raise the rating to an M.
"What?" Haley exclaimed.
"I almost slept with Nick," Charlize said in a hushed tone.
"I heard you the first time," Haley laughed, her hair blowing from the ocean breeze. "How the hell did that happen?"
"I don't know," Charlize said, lowering her head into her open palms and rubbing her forehead. The two women were sitting on one of the cushioned benches on the top deck of the yacht. It had been a day since they noticed that they were being followed on the radar, supposedly by the people who destroyed the boat in which Nick had found the logbook; and so far, they had been able to outrun them.
"Oh, of course you do," Haley said. "For weeks you could've cut the tension between you with a knife."
"Yeah I know, but that's not it," Charlize replied, gazing out at the ocean. "It's just..Urgh, I don't know..Do I really want to go there? Again?"
"I can't answer that for you," Haley said, sympathetically. "How did it feel?"
"Really good," Charlize admitted, looking at her best friend. "But was that because I wanted it, or because it's the fucking end of the world and I just needed to feel something? Was it because I'm still in love with him, or because it's familiar?" She shrugged. "I couldn't say."
"You think too much."
"Of course I do," Charlize said, not responding to Haley's light tone. "It's Nick."
"Charlie," Haley started, more sober. "If this were our normal life back in L.A., I would kick your ass for even considering it. But this is far from normal. And consider this: This is the first time since you two broke up that he's clean. And he does seem like he's doing better."
Charlize thought about that for a while, contemplating Haley's words. "I just can't shake the feeling that something is going to happen again, that he's gonna disappear again. Not even necessarily physically - it's a boat, where should he go, but that he'll disappear into himself again, shutting me out."
"What if he won't?" Haley countered. "What if the end of the world changed him, just like it changed you, and me, and everyone on this yacht?"
For a moment, Charlize simply looked at Haley. Then, she started laughing lightly. "You are the last person I would have expected to be on team Nick."
Haley smiled. "Well, it can't be easy for him either."
Charlize hesitated, then: "What do you mean?"
"Think about it," Haley started. "Let's assume for a moment that he actually has changed and has gotten better. The last two years, he has been fucking up big time. Let's assume he regrets it. Maybe he's ashamed. Now on this boat with its limited space, everywhere he looks, he sees someone he's hurt. He sees Madison and he remembers how much he fucked up. He sees Alicia, he remembers how hard it must have been for her. He sees you and he remembers how much he hurt you."
"Yeah, but you can't fix the relationships you've broken by not seeing the people you've hurt," Charlize said defensively.
"Of course not," Haley responded calmly. "But this is hardcore. There's barely space to withdraw for some alone time. And fixing the relationships is not just work for him, it's going to be work for everyone. Think about it. How many times since we have been on this boat have you, or Madison, or Alicia, asked him if he's okay, how bad the withdrawal is, if he craves a fix?"
Charlize was silent.
"It's just so easy to fall into old patterns. The more you - and I'm not saying that you are, but the more you worry, and the more you maybe mistrust him, and question him, the more he falls back into the old role of being the victim, of being defensive, and of not being honest anymore."
Charlize was still silent, staring out at the ocean, contemplating. Eventually, she stirred. "Well, shit."
"What?"
"You're right," she admitted.
A smile spread on Haley's lips and she shrugged. "I usually am."
For a moment, they are quiet, both lost in their own thoughts. Behind Haley, the sun was reflected brightly in the ocean, no cloud to be seen in the sky. Haley's long, black hair was falling loosely over her shoulders and moving in the wind. Her skin had visibly tanned in the week they had spent on the yacht. Her eyes were no longer fixed on Charlize, but on the endless blue water behind them.
"What if they catch up to us?" she said eventually.
Charlize had wondered the same multiple times since the day before, sitting outside, staring at the ocean behind the boat, waiting for another boat to appear on the horizon. "I hope we don't find out," she replied.
With an agreeable nod Haley got up, her white shirt flowing in the wind, and walked back to the open door leading through the yacht's living room and kitchen to the stairs that lead to the lower floor.
"Oh, and put on some sunscreen," Haley shouted while she was walking away. "You're too damn white to be in the sun all day."
"Oh my God," Charlize exclaimed in fake exasperation and spontaneously threw one of her slippers after Haley. The raven haired girl side-stepped the shoe with a sly smile on her face, and disappeared through the glass door.
Charlize was walking along the small corridor that led to the yacht's cockpit. The carpet felt rough under her bare feet, and since she was only wearing a t-shirt, her arms felt chilled in the cool night, even inside. Her bob was slowly but surely growing out, and her hair felt tangled and dry from spending all her time on the ocean. Inside the cockpit she found Victor Strand and Travis. Victor was wearing a black hoodie and a black beanie, and he was standing behind the wheel, staring at the boat's radar with a concentrated expression. Travis was sitting on bench on the right side of the room, his legs up and lying across its cushioned surface, his back leaned against the wall defining the bench's right end. His eyes were closed. Outside it was dark except for a few starts shining dimly against the black sky.
Charlize came up next to Victor. "Are they still following us?" she asked quietly, staring at the radar.
"Mhhm," he affirmed, and then pointed at a small green dot at the edge of the radar. "And they're gaining on us, too."
"How much longer can we run?"
"Not long," Victor said in his deep voice. Its tone was almost calming, despite his words. "We're going to have to find an alcove, or something else to hide."
"Chris!" Travis exclaimed from behind them, snapping out of a dream. When Charlize looked at him his eyes were wide in confusion, his mind still stuck in the hazy state between sleep and consciousness, and there was a thin layer of sweat on his face, despite the chill of the night air.
"He was up on the deck with Ofelia the last time I saw him," Charlize said gently. Travis looked up at her, the sleep disappearing out of his dark brown eyes. "Yeah...," he said, shaking his head lightly. "I'll go check on him." And with a small grunt, Travis lifted himself off the bench and walked out of the cockpit.
Charlize left shortly after, walking down the corridor to the stairs that led downstairs. It was so cool now that she crossed her arms in front of her chest while walking, trying to rub some warmth back into them. She opened the door to her cabin without consideration, and was surprised to find the small light on the nightstand already turned on, and someone sleeping in her bed. For a moment, Charlize stood still in the doorway, too surprised to move. Then, she smiled.
Nick was curled up under the blanket, his eyes closed, the peaceful expression of sleep on his face. No poker face, no pain, no yearning - just Nick, in his purest form. It was then and there that Charlize realized that no matter how much she contemplated with Haley, and no matter how doubtful she still was, she had already made up her mind. She had made it up a long time ago. It occurred to her there in that small cabin, at the end of the world, that she was hopelessly and irretrievably in love with Nick Clark.
Charlize quietly walked over to the bed, lifted the blanket carefully, and slipped in next to Nick. He woke up from the movement, though he didn't open his eyes. He simply moved closer to her and put an arm around her. They were lying face to face, chest to chest. Charlize noticed that he was not wearing a shirt. "Mhhh," he murmured unhappily. "You're cold."
"I was outside." He did not reply, only rested his head in the nook between her chin and her shoulder, and continued to sleep. Charlize softly stroked his hair with her right hand, suddenly wide awake.
"Babe?" she whispered eventually.
"Mhh?" his breath was hot against her skin.
"I'm sorry."
Nick did not reply. He raised his head enough to be able to look her in the eyes, his eyes opened halfway, sleepy and confused.
"I've realized that since we're on the boat I've still treated you like I treated you the last couple of years," Charlize started, turning onto her back to avoid eye contact. "Like you were fragile, and would relapse any second. I didn't trust you, I think, mainly because of that stunt in the safe zone, probably. But I've never once acknowledged how good you were doing. You're here and you're present, not just physically, and you were trying to fix things, and I only looked for red flags. That wasn't fair."
"Well, that isn't entirely true," Nick said, his voice still groggy from sleep. "You found me in the military compound and tried to save me without even wanting to hear an apology. I'd say you've been pretty supportive."
"Well, how I act and what's in my head isn't always consistent," Charlize said, not unkindly. "Maybe that apology was something I needed to say more than it was something that you needed to hear." She was silent for a moment, then she turned her head back to Nick. "I'm going to promise you something now, and then I'm going to ask something of you."
"Okay." Nick's eyes were locked with hers, more alert now.
"I promise you that I'll trust you from now on. I won't ask you daily how you're holding up, or how bad you're craving a hit, or how you're dealing with the withdrawal. That stuff is in the past, and God knows we need to start looking ahead. But I'm asking you to be honest with me. If you feel like shit, talk to me. If you've fucked up, talk to me. Even if you haven't, just talk to me," Charlize said, and then quieter: "don't shut me out."
Nick moved his head closer to hers, so that their noses were almost touching. Charlize could feel her heart pounding in her chest, not from his closeness, but from her honesty, her confession. Then, Nick moved his left hand to her neck, and gently kissed her forehead. "I promise."
Charlize felt a knot in her chest dissipating, and she chuckled lightly. "So this is it?"
"This is it," Nick replied, and even if she would not have seen him then, she would have been able to hear the smile in his voice. "No more fuck ups's," Nick added.
"You better," she teased.
"Oh my god, you couldn't even keep your promise for five minutes," Nick said exasperated, but he was laughing.
"Oh, stop!" Charlize responded and pushed him, so he rolled over on his back. She realized that she felt at ease, for the first time in a long time. She moved closer to him then, and he looked at her when she did. "Nick Clark..," she whispered and leaned closer, closing the distance between their faces. His lips felt warm and familiar on hers. The kiss was not like the kiss they shared two days before; it was not urgent, or desperate; it was warm, and slow, and loving. Charlize opened her mouth slightly, allowing his tongue in, she gently bit his lip, and all the while they etched closer to each other, until it felt like there was no particle of space left between their bodies, and still Nick's hand was on her neck, and her arm was around his waist, trying to pull the other closer still. His bare skin felt hot under her touch, and she had to physically bring herself to move away from him long enough to pull her shirt over her head.
Nick used the opportunity to gently push her onto her back and move on top of her. For a moment, he took her face in both of his hands and kissed her lips, the next moment Charlize could feel his kisses and his hands trailing down her body, over her neck, down her collarbone. He pushed one of the cups of her bra down and kissed her breast, and Charlize arched her back at the sensation. "Nick," she moaned, her voice thick with her want, her need, for him to continue what he was doing. As if he could read her thoughts, Nick started trailing his kisses further down her body, down her stomach, to the waistband of her jeans. The tingling in her lower stomach was almost unbearable. She felt both of his hands on her, yet she felt like it wasn't enough, she needed more, more touching, more kissing, more. She moaned again when he opened her jeans with swift fingers and pulled them down. To say that she was ready for him was an understatement. "Nick," she whispered more urgently. "I know, babe," he answered, his voice raspy. With quick movements he pulled off his sweatpants, and then it was only them, naked, and sweating, and needing each other. He moved back on top of her almost gently, staring into her eyes for a moment without moving. Charlize nodded her head slightly, and when he pushed into her, she opened for him like a flower. This time it was Nick who moaned.
"I love you," he whispered as he moved in and out of her. "God, I love you."
Charlize woke up from shouting. For a moment, in a sleepy daze, she thought she had dreamed it, but the voices didn't cease when she opened her eyes. People were shouting upstairs. "Nick," she whispered urgently, shaking his arm. "Nick!" He woke up slowly, but when he heard the voices, his eyes opened wide. "What's going on?" "I don't know." Charlize threw the blanket off of her and jumped out of bed, putting on her pants and shirt in a few quick movements. When Nick was dressed too, Charlize opened the door and both of them sprinted outside, through the corridor toward the stairs.
"What do you want, Jack?"
Charlize stopped in her tracks when she heard Alicia use that name. Nick almost ran into her. She turned and pushed him back, away from the stairs, all the while signaling him to be quiet. "It's the people who were following us," she whispered when she felt they were out of earshot.
"Fuck," Nick exclaimed, raising his hands to his head and pushing them against his forehead. Before either of them could say something else, they heard voices behind them, from somewhere on the lower deck. Nick acted quick and pulled Charlize into an empty room, leaving it open just enough for them to see who was talking. Charlize's heart was hammering in her chest. What is happening? The voices came closer. Charlize didn't recognize the woman who was talking, but when they passed, she recognized the other person. It was Haley. The other woman was pushing Haley in front of her. Haley's hands were tied at her back, and she was bleeding from a wound on her forehead. Charlize's eyes widened in fear. "What are we gonna do?" she whispered to Nick. He put his index finger in front of his mouth in a gesture to be quiet, and then stepped into the corridor once more, tiptoeing closer to the stairs again. Charlize followed him quietly.
"...when Connor gets here," a voice that Charlize didn't recognize said.
"What's going to happen to us when he does?" Travis asked.
"We'll take you, Alicia, and the doctor."
"I'm not a fucking doctor," Haley said.
"Doesn't matter. You're as close as it gets."
Then, there was movement. Nick turned back to Charlize and started whispering. "We have to get to the cockpit. Strand has guns stored there." Charlize nodded, numb. She was aware of what was happening, but somehow she felt like she was dreaming, like it wasn't real. She wanted to ask him to pinch her, to slap her, to wake her up. Instead she said: "How are we getting past them? We have to go upstairs."
Nick through for a moment. "I'll distract them. You -" "What? No!" "Yes. Listen to me. There is a box underneath one of the benches in the cockpit. Big, and grey. Inside, there are two semi-automatic rifles. Take one, get back, wait for my signal."
"No, Nick! This - I can't -"
"Yes, you can," Nick said and turned around, walking up the stairs without waiting for an answer. Charlize wanted to shout after him, tell him to come back, tell him to get the guns himself, but he was gone.
"Well well, what's going on here?" Charlize could hear Nick say in a casual tone that did not suggest a hostage situation. "Fuck," she cursed under her breath as she hurried quietly toward the stairs, afraid of missing her window of opportunity. She carefully took a few steps and saw Nick standing at the top of the stairs. There was a commotion, and someone was shouting, but Nick raised his hands defensively.
"Whoa, no need to get aggressive," he said and walked further into the room and out of Charlize's frame of sight. She carefully moved up a couple more steps. She could see one person with a sniper rifle, moving around the living room, toward Nick. All of a sudden, Charlize realized what Nick was doing. He was luring the guy to turn his back to the stairs. She could feel sweat building on her forehead, and she quickly wiped it on her arm. She moved up a few more steps. She was almost at the top now. Nick was moving further into the room, and Charlize could now see Madison, Chris and Ofelia on the couch, and Daniel Salazar sitting in front of it, everyone's hands bound behind their back. Ofelia spotted her first, her eyes growing wide, everyone else was focused on Nick.
"Okay, okay," Nick was saying now. "Sorry I'm late to the party." He stretched his arms out in front of him, offering himself up to be bound. The gunman moved closer to him, apprehensive, and when he was right in front of Nick his back was completely turned on Charlize. She moved quickly and quietly. She moved up the last of the steps and then turned right and disappeared into the corridor leading to the cockpit. She had seen heads moving into her direction, but she kept moving, hoping the man with the sniper rifle hadn't been one of them. By the time she reached the door at the end of the corridor, her hands were shaking. She opened the door carefully, checking if any of the other gunmen she had heard was inside. To her relief, it was empty. She quickly moved inside and closed the door behind her. Her hands were still shaking when she found and opened the box Nick had described. The gun seemed huge to her, almost matching the sniper rifle of the gunman in the living room. She could hear more voices and arguing coming from outside, and she picked up the gun in a hurry. She was sweating again. She had never used a gun like this, and she barely even understood the workings of a hand gun. She moved the gun around in her hands, trying to locate the safety. She almost dropped it twice. "Fuck, fuck, fuck," she cursed her shaking. Eventually, she found the safety, and with a deep breath, she turned it off. Before she could move again she was interrupted by the noise of a motorboat. She quickly got up and covered the distance to the window in three quick strides. With a sinking heart, Charlize watched a motorboat driving away from the yacht in the early light of dawn, carrying Alicia, Haley and Travis with it. "No, no, no," she muttered. What would happen to the others? There was still shouting outside in the living room. With a deep breath, Charlize raised the rifle and left the cockpit.
"Just gives us the boat and we'll get to land. You can have the yacht!" Madison pleaded.
"Well you see, the boat is leaving with the yacht," a voice answered. The unspoken words hung in the air, almost palpable. You're going to die.
When Charlize peaked around the corner to the living room, she saw two people with guns. A woman with a high ponytail and a sniper rifle, and a man with a matching rifle standing slightly in front of her. To her relief, she also saw that the others had been unbound. She pulled her head back around, out of sight, and contemplated who was the easier target. The woman was out on the terrace, the man just behind the door in the living room.
"So, who goes first?" the man asked.
Charlize took a deep breath and closed her eyes for a second. It was now or never. She peaked around the corner again, this time with the rifle. She leaned the barrel of the run against the corner and took aim at the man, standing in the door of the living room to the terrace, now waiving his gun around in his hand dangerously with a sly smile on his face. When she thought she had the aim, she held her breath, and without thinking she pulled the trigger. The shot was not as loud as she would have expected, but the kickback forced her to take a step back. When she moved back, the man was on the ground, dead, and everyone was crouched down. The woman with the other sniper rifle moved quickly to the door, her gun raised, but Charlize was quicker. She had the advantage of seeing her target while the woman was still confused as to who had shot her partner, and when she stepped through the door, Charlize released the trigger for a second time. The woman fell, dead.
For a moment, nobody moved. Charlize lowered the gun with shaking hands, and took a step into the room. "Charlie, no!" Ofelia, who was closest to her, shouted. Before she could react there were more shots, and then everything happened quickly. Charlize turned and saw a third gunman, raising his gun and firing in her direction, three, four times, before Chris tackled him and he dropped the gun. Madison was on him then, and buried a metal pipe in the man's stomach. Charlize had dropped her gun in shock, and Ofelia moved in and picked it up, moving toward the man on the ground to ensure that he was dead. The others shouted about Travis and Alicia, and Victor Strand, who was somehow missing, while Charlize stood frozen in shock, observing the scene in fast forward and in slow motion simultaneously. Madison went to hug Nick, then turned to Daniel, said something about getting Victor, and both of them disappeared onto the terrace.
Then, Nick was there, in front of her, his hands on her face. "Are you okay?" he said, but his voice sounded wrong, like he was in a tunnel, far away from her. "Charlie?" She didn't answer him. Instead she looked down at her black shirt. Nick took a step back, his hands wandering to her upper arms, his grip tight. Charlize moved her left hand to her stomach, and she started feeling dizzy. When she moved her hand up, it came back red.
