Author's note: Thank you all for coming to read the updates! I'm luring over Rogan fans, woohoo!
She found herself camping in Virginia in the spring when Tristan's crew seemed to have some unofficial break. The group was large, with Spinner now the only member stubbornly clinging to his single status and Stella's and Donna's kids rounding out the team. They were renting a cabin with several rooms and a large kitchen where they had big cook outs and they went for hikes during the day, the budding trees and blooming fields providing beautiful scenery.
Rory said yes to the trip without much pondering when Stella begged them to come, but now that she was there, more sociable than she remembered being for years, she had to remind herself that it was only for a couple of days.
The kids were loud and a handful, but the girls were empathetic as always and she loved to see Tristan's crew interact, giving her a sense of trust and peace.
She watched the guys move, always as if in formation, with kids and wives kept within a protective circle, communicating sometimes with just looks and short sentences. She wondered if it was a conscious thing or if it had just become second nature to them.
They obeyed practiced laws, she was sure of that. Whenever they were hiking and there was a fork in the road, they would wait, turning slightly towards Tristan. He always looked at Billy, who was obviously one with a tracker's mind. He would point out the direction and Tristan would nod, but none of the other guys would take the path before Tristan actually said it out loud. Tristan would regard the children and subtly ask parents if they needed a break in the hike, although Rory wasn't sure some of them didn't fare better than her when it came to fitness.
It was subtle, all these interactions, but she picked up on all of them as she spent the day observing the crew of quiet professionals. She thought of Tristan's worry about being the right kind of leader and she was reassured, even more so now, that he was kind and observant. There was an immense amount of trust and respect directed towards him and it made her see him in almost a different light, the dynamic giving her an idea of what it was like for him to work, when the surroundings weren't so serene and peaceful. She wondered how long this dynamic, this trust took to build, how the process unfolded and she felt almost guilty knowing he was working on this when he had first gone back to active duty. Back then she was still shocked and angry that he had made the decision, so he didn't have the chance to share any of this burden with her, but she knew it must have had been a strenuous and difficult couple of months for him. She thought about how that burden must have multiplied when he first got deployed and they had not been in touch.
All these things zigzagged in her mind, her guilt and admiration ebbing and flowing and she often found herself watching him, watching his movements, watching his demeanor. She marveled at what he had become, despite the obstacles, despite her unknowing hindrance; a natural leader, calm, quiet, reassuring.
The day's hike was rougher than she expected and she was thankful Tristan was the one carrying everything they might have needed. He gave her water every half an hour or so, even if she didn't ask for it. The shoes she wore were starting to bother her within a couple of hours and she was thankful when Tristan gave the order to take a break.
She sat on a rock and cracked her ankles, hearing her joints pop.
He walked up to her, kneeling down in front of her and she watched as he took each of her legs into his hands, untying and retying her shoelaces.
"What are you doing?" she asked as she watched with a bemused expression.
"You're already limping" he said. "Proper support is crucial."
She smirked, but didn't protest, feeling the shoes settle more firmly around her feet as he retied them and she had to admit, it already felt better.
She watched as the muscles in his arms moved, exposed in the short sleeve shirt he wore. She noticed that he didn't mind his scars or tattoos showing when he was with his crew.
He let her foot drop back onto the ground and moved to the other one, the way he lifted her leg making her thoughts turn to other memories.
He looked up at her as if sensing her drifting thoughts and she felt her face blush.
"You ready?" he asked, his voice a notch deeper.
She nodded, not trusting her own voice.
She came out of the bathroom with a towel wrapped around her, just as he entered the room. The walls were paper thin and she could distinctly make out the children from the next room, shouting.
"Fire's been extinguished?" she asked and he nodded. They'd had a camp fire, with the kids making s'mores and the guys stayed behind to cover the fire, while the girls escorted the kids into their respective rooms.
She moved towards the closet as he caught her hand, pulling her close. She gasped at the sudden motion, then smiled as he dipped his mouth to kiss hers, slowly backing her up against the wall. His hands were snaking under her towel and she sighed, trying to block out the sound of Stella's kids squealing in the next room.
"I don't know if these cabins provide much privacy" she said arching an eyebrow.
"Well, you should have thought of that before you spent the day giving me sex eyes" he murmured, his nose buried in her hair.
"Sex eyes?" she asked with a small chuckle.
"Yeah. What the fuck were you thinking about? Do you know how hard it is to do a 6 hour hike with a raging hard on?" he went on, making her laugh out loud.
"I… I like how you are with them…" she said as an explanation and he pulled back to look at her.
"What do you mean?" he asked, studying her face.
She took a breath, thinking about her answer.
"They look up to you. Respect you. Rely on you. The way you are with them, it's… it's impressive. And I know that you had to build all this while things weren't… ideal with us."
He sighed as if understanding her weariness and smiled reassuringly.
"It worked out okay, I think" he murmured.
"It worked out more than okay. You are an incredible leader" she whispered, blushing slightly. "I thought a lot about that today while I watched you with them."
He squinted, studying her face.
"I'm not sure I like the fact that that's what's giving you sex eyes" he joked and she rolled her eyes.
"I feel like you are just fishing for compliments here" she remarked, with a raised eyebrow.
"Sometimes, it's nice to hear" he shrugged.
She inhaled deeply, gathering her courage.
"I like the way you command their respect. You are quiet, you don't talk much with them either, but they still listen to you, are tuned to you. It shows how much faith they have in you. It shows how smart and calm you must be when you are at work. They trust your judgement regarding everything, so it must mean they trust you and your decisions when you are working" she whispered, her hand caressing his arms.
"You find that hot?" he said, his smirk showing.
She shrugged.
"I find you hot. It just made me feel… I don't know. I like your dedication" she said, her hair falling before her eyes.
He nodded, his eyes unreadable, then seamlessly dropped to his knees.
"If you like dedication, I've got something you'll definitely enjoy…" he murmured, his hands going under her towel as she gasped. "You're gonna have to try to be quiet though. I don't need them snickering about how hard I make you come."
She let out a chuckle, her eyes closing as she felt him lift the bottom of her towel.
"Mary. Fucking hell" he breathed out as his fingers traced the line where her arousal was trickling down the inside of her leg. He looked back up at her and she swallowed, seeing his eyes dilate to the point where she could hardly make out the blue.
"You're weren't lying, were you?" he said, his breath making her gasp as it reached her sex.
"No" she whispered, her head dropping back against the wall as she closed her eyes again.
She felt his tongue dart out to touch her clit, his two fingers following the damp trail up to her center and slipping inside.
She let out a loud moan and he withdrew his tongue instantly, stopping the movement of his fingers.
The voices in the next room went quiet for a second and she heard him hush her quietly. She tried to calm her breathing, biting her lips to obey his order.
She felt him restart his ministrations and she kept biting her lip, trying to muffle the strangled moans. She lifted her leg over his shoulder, giving himself more access and her hands went to his hair, her fingers grasping to pull him closer as she felt him chuckle against her.
She was close to coming within minutes and her moans were getting louder as she was losing her control.
He chuckled again as he looked up at her, rising from his knees.
"Yeah, I'm gonna have to change tactics here" he huskily said, undoing his pants and pushing his briefs down, before lifting her off her feet and wrapping her legs around his waist. "You're gonna blow our cover."
His hand went up to her mouth to seal it, her eyes going wide as they met his, and her next moan was muffled as he slid inside her, hard and throbbing. She felt her whole body shaken by the sensation, her hands going to grasp his arm against her face.
He seemed to fare better with keeping his moans to a minimum, thrusting into her steadily with only his eyes showing how unraveled he was. He thrust into her with an increasing pace and she was coming apart within seconds, her whole body shaking as he held her.
"Shit, Rory" he whispered. "You'll be the death of me."
She let her head fall back as she forced her eyes open to watch his mouth open in a silent cry, his face contorting in pleasure as he froze, his release pulsing up into her. She felt him flood her, his warm seed trickling down her leg mixed with her own arousal and the sensation made her fall apart again, her hands squeezing his hand over her own mouth to keep her from moaning out loud.
She watched him through the kitchen window of the cabin, the guys standing in a circle by the barbecue set up outside. To anyone watching they might have seemed like a group of friends, but having studied them for the past several days, she saw all the signs. Their bodies were ripped, some of them had that nervous restlessness she saw sometimes on Tristan when it had been a while that he'd been called away. They moved in a strange unison, somehow always falling into ranks even if they were just carrying a table or separating rowdy children. She watched him, clearly the leader of the pack, the others yielding to him every time he moved or spoke.
He caught her watching him, giving her a warm smile. It made her blush as she studied him with a delicious fatigue in her body, having not slept much the night prior.
He seemed to be insatiable once he found out that she found his job, his authority attractive, finding her with an undeniable want even after she was ready to fall asleep.
It reminded her of the time they first started seeing each other, when being intimate was almost unavoidable, but nowadays, it was even more overwhelming for her.
He seemed to know her every move, read every sign of her body, having the ability to drive her to the edge and leave her begging with minimal effort. He knew when she needed it fast and raw without fanfare or interaction and when she craved him talking hungrily into her ear, with phrases that drove her wild with want.
"Jesus, Rory, get a room" she heard Stella say and she blushed, seeing the girls giggle.
"You're staring at him like a cat in heat" her friend went on and she tried to concentrate on the salad she was supposed to be mixing.
"I don't blame you though," Stella stood next to her, watching Tristan through the kitchen window, "back when we weren't surrounded by obnoxious toddlers, me and Jake, we used to go at each other like rabbits too."
"Hence the obnoxious toddlers" Gina laughed, dumping some tomatoes into Rory's bowl as she joined the other two girls by the window.
"God, they do look hotter when they're all together like that, don't they?" Gina marveled.
Rory chuckled, returning her attention to the salad.
"Well, they're certainly in a great mood," Stella sighed, "that helps. Last time they came back, I could hardly get him to leave the garage. He spent a whole week fixing up that old beat up car of his."
Rory glanced at Stella.
"I thought nothing would be as bad as when they were grilled about all those civilian casualties. He would be in a foul mood, but at least he talked to me. Last time, he didn't even do that."
"Yeah, what was that whole mission about?" Gina asked.
"I think it was that hostage massacre" Donna said and all the women looked at her.
"Billy told you?" Stella asked.
"No. But I remember seeing it on the news after they came back. Billy left the room whenever there'd be anything on TV about it. I think it was a family with children."
They all fell silent.
"Yeah, I call it the CNN method" Stella said, trying to lighten the mood, "I just put it on and study his face for reactions."
"That works?" Rory asked with amusement in her voice.
"It did until he realized I was doing it on purpose" Stella chuckled, giving her a wink.
"Do they ever talk about it without you prompting?" Rory asked and the women looked at each other wearily.
"It depends" Gina shrugged. "I'm not sure it's better if they talk about it."
"I think they're taught not to. To compartmentalize" Vicki chimed in.
"It's for our own good" Gina replied.
"Is it though? Who the hell can pretend they don't spend most of their time killing people on the other side of the world? At least there could be some honesty about it" Donna said and all the women looked at her, the air suddenly sucked out of the room. Rory watched as she steadied her hand on her growing belly, her face in a frown. Stella and Gina glanced at each other and Donna sighed, helping herself up from the chair she was sitting on.
She excused herself, going to the bathroom.
"I think they're having problems" Gina whispered.
"Well, they're going to have to sort it out soon. She's about to pop" Stella said.
"It's hard to sort stuff out if they're away 40 weeks out of the year and you can't plan ahead a month" Gina retorted.
"Hey" Stella scolded.
"I know, I know. It's what they chose. And he's what I chose" she sighed and Rory returned to watching the men outside, thinking about the weary chatter of their spouses.
She finished the salad and slipped from the kitchen silently, treading through the other rooms until she found Donna.
She watched as she stood by a window, turning back to look at her as she heard her approaching steps.
Rory came to stand next to her, joining her in watching Stella's kids play with the big white dog that Gina and her husband owned.
"You okay?" Rory asked, without looking at her.
"Yeah," she replied, forced lightness in her voice, "just tired. Can't get comfortable in any position anymore."
Rory nodded.
"When are you due?" she asked.
"37 days, but who's counting?" she chuckled and Rory smiled sympathetically.
"Is Billy going to stay home for a while?" she asked.
"I guess he plans to. I don't know if it's the right decision. He gets restless quickly" Donna replied, her voice quiet.
"He'll be too busy to be restless" Rory remarked, trying to keep the mood light.
"I don't know. Sometimes I feel like it's worse if he's home. That couple of days he gets back? It's the worst of times and the best of times, you know?" Donna said, staring into the distance through the window.
She knew, but the morbid curiosity swelled inside her.
"What do you mean?" she asked, making her voice unassuming.
"It's always a surprise, the mood, you know? And how he acts. But then there is always that relief too. He's safe and back and he missed me. But it lasts until he starts anticipating the next call and I start feeling the dread. It's just too much, all those feelings. When he's gone, at least there is only hope I have to feel. Not guilt and shame and anger and fear all jumbled into a mix."
Rory scrunched her forehead, Donna's words sounding way too logical for her to disregard.
"I guess that's what you get for marrying a ghost. He drifts in and out, always haunts you, but it will never be real" Donna said, her voice quiet as the two of them continued to stare out the window.
She sat in the library, her laptop showing several windows of opened articles.
She didn't notice him coming up behind her.
"What are you working on?" she heard him ask.
She looked at him startled, his eyes reading through the article she was browsing.
She watched him as his face became confused.
"Why are you reading this?" he asked, looking at her.
She took a breath, trying to find the best answer. She'd been preoccupied with the subject ever since their camping trip.
"Research, I guess" she shrugged.
"Research about divorce rates in military marriages? Should I be worried?" he asked, turning to face her as he adjusted her chair.
"No," she chuckled nervously, "it's not... it's just something that I was left wondering after talking with the WAGS" she brushed it off.
"Who wants to get a divorce?" he asked, his tone serious.
"No one. It's not anyone. It isn't anything they talked about. I am just curious" she brushed him off.
It didn't seem to convince him as he sat on the table, studying her.
"Rory. Talk to me please" he insisted.
"Did you know that army marriages are more likely to end in divorce? And that Delta has the highest divorce rate?" she asked.
He studied her with a squint she could only classify as irritated.
"And you want to write about this?" he asked, shaking his head, not understanding.
She shrugged again, not really knowing the answer herself.
She saw his eyes flash in anger and he shook his head turning to walk towards the living room.
"Tristan, don't be ridiculous. I'm just reading. It's harmless" she groaned, getting up to follow him.
"Until you start writing about it" he shot back, turning to face her again.
"Why does it bother you if I write about it?" she asked.
"Because you can't, Rory, I have an alias for a reason" he replied, his tone frustrated.
"I'm not going to implicate you" she shook her head.
"You know that they read your stuff?" he sighed.
"Who? Your superiors?" she asked, confused.
"The WAGS" he sighed. "They're not stupid, Rory."
"No one said anyone is stupid. Give me a little credit here, I am not gossiping, okay?"
"What do you think they're going to think your motivation was to write this?" he asked and she sighed, seeing the rationale of his argument.
"Way to be subtle" he murmured, sitting down on the couch and turning on the TV. The coldness of the remark pierced her, urging her not to drop the argument.
"I can always use a pen name, if this unnerves you" she pointed out, folding her arms in front of her chest.
"How about you don't rock the boat, Rory?" he said, his tone catching her off guard. He glanced at her, his eyes ice cold.
"Rock the boat?" she scoffed.
"Yeah. It's not exactly a harmless op-ed. It's hitting a little too close to home" he retorted.
"It's a hot topic, Tristan" she sighed, not liking the argument but feeling unable to halt it.
"Right. But also, you're married to someone with that job, so how impartial can you be?" he pointed out, his tone cynical.
"I can be impartial" she said, defensively.
"I feel like you're trying to get answers to questions you want to be asking me" he said, his tone closed off. He was staring at the TV, without looking at her.
"Like what?" she asked, incredulous.
"I don't know, you tell me" he shot back, glancing at her.
"Why does this irk you?" she asked, frustrated.
There was a beat of silence as he stared at the TV again, perhaps gathering his thoughts.
"Rory, are you unhappy with our lives?" he asked, his voice once again soft and it made her falter, her hands lowering to her sides.
"I... no... I'm... It's just... I feel like I have changed so much since I found you. I feel like it was a seamless healing, you know? Of something I didn't even realize that was broken. Of something I thought I didn't want fixed" she said, her emotions getting a hold of her.
He nodded, swallowing hard as his eyes fixed on her.
"And I feel like you love me. I feel like I make you happy" she continued.
His face softened and it urged her to move and close the distance between them.
She moved to sit in front of him on the carpet, her arms snaking into his and he leaned forward, their faces only inches away from each other.
"That's true, Rory" he said, his tone reassuring.
"But I don't feel like it has changed anything for you. You still have that urge, to go and risk it all even though I know you are second guessing a lot of your own reasoning" she said, her throat closing in.
"Rory. That's not fair" he said, closing his eyes as he dropped his head slightly. "I'm not second guessing anything. I'm doing a job and trying to adjust to the role I've taken on. I share stuff with you, but not so you can use it as leverage" he said and the accusation made her frown.
"I just don't want you to be doing something out of conviction, out of a desire to stick to something you once thought was right" she tried again, her tone slightly desperate.
"Rory, I still think it's right" he said, his face solemn.
"But doing what you do isn't the only way to do what's right. You don't have to do this forever" she whispered, her words pleading.
He looked at her, thoughtfully, his eyes pale and sad.
"This is not a sickness in me. This is not something that's broken. This is me. This is how I am. You can't fix it" he said, his face set.
"Shouldn't I be able to urge you to change?" she whispered, tears welling in her eyes.
A pained look flashed on his face, his resolve faltering. He took a deep breath, his hand reaching out to brush hair back from her face.
"Rory. When you met me, I was a shadow. I had no one. Nothing else in my life. And now… I am married… I clean the gutters and worry about your insurance, I tell you about the stuff weighing me down… I… feel like leaving you rips my heart in half every time… How do you not see that?" he asked, his eyes heartbreakingly blue.
She swallowed, her tears escaping from her eyes as she watched him.
"You have changed me. You have given me life. And I plan to keep you happy, even though I know this job makes that harder" he said, tucking her hair behind her ear again.
"Don't you feel that?" he asked, his palm staying to caress her face.
She closed her eyes, leaning into his touch.
"I do" she said, crying softly as he pulled her up into his lap.
"Please don't research that bullshit" he pleaded with her.
"Okay" she murmured.
She didn't write about it.
But the conversation was replaying in a loop in her mind even after he'd gone back to work. She recalled his words about his commitment, his devotion to this job, even as she knew he wasn't free from being plagued by worry. She tried to understand his drive, tried to find the analogue in her own life and she realized she wasn't the one to preach about letting relationships take the back burner in order to accommodate careers.
She revisited her own convictions, her own commitment regarding her job.
She remembered being wide eyed and energized, choosing to work even if circumstances weren't ideal, because she felt a drive, a force, a motivation. That devotion seemed to have changed over the years.
Her job was something that saved her life in a way, giving her a way to immerse herself in something productive when everything else felt unbearable in her life. When she had lost her mother, it became a tool, an excuse to justify her way of life and more recently she used it as a distraction from worrying.
She thought back to the time when her job wasn't an excuse, a distraction, but rather an unfaltering, certain devotion. Thinking about it now, she realized that she missed that sense of accomplishment, that pride.
She thought about her recent work, her recent topics, knowing that she had been influenced by a lot of factors when it came to picking new projects. She realized that she'd been limiting a lot of her topics in the last year or so, trying to accommodate Tristan's schedule. She checked her records and realized she'd been away half as much as the year prior. Most of her stories were focusing on the States, some even local and the Post actually offered to take her onto their staff. She had found herself contemplating the offer for minutes before the thought of staying in one place, of living in a house, of having friends and building a life as solid as concrete gave her a proper panic attack.
She tried to recall when the last time was that she felt that overwhelming conviction to accomplish something rather than the anxiety laced pain urging her to move, making her heart race, her breathing fast and shallow, her fingers shaking lightly as numbness creeped into them.
She opened a folder on her computer, with old stories abandoned and she realized a slew of them were discarded because they would need longer planning, or a more extensive trip.
She opened her browser, searching for her lost topics and the hours flew by. As she kept her mind occupied, her body encountered a long forgotten, but familiar feeling: excitement. She wondered if this was what Tristan felt every time he got summoned for a new mission.
She spent hours immersed in her old research. One of the files had her mind whirling, the passion in her suddenly reignited.
She picked up the phone and called Jimmy.
"Hey, what do your next couple of weeks look like?"
She was sitting in the open plateau of the truck, the heavy bumps in the road knocking the wind out of her every now and then.
It felt good to be working, her whole body buzzing with an excitement she hadn't felt for a while. She loved being back out there, following leads, taking chances, not knowing how things are going to turn out but not really worrying. Which is how she found herself driving through a deserted jungle road in a remote location, Jimmy sitting next to her. The villagers that they'd met at the bar were surprisingly cooperative after a couple of rounds of rum and she was certain that seeing the vast poppy fields herself would be a great part of the piece she had been working on.
She thought about the possible flow of the article, the angles, but she found herself distracted time and time again. She had emailed him but didn't wait for a response, knowing full well he'd be displeased with her trip. Her cell reception had been spotty ever since she got off the plane in Mexico City, so she didn't know what his exact reaction had been. She found herself drifting off, her mind returning to the living room conversation with Tristan.
She wondered about how that conversation must have felt like to him. If it was hurtful towards him. She thought about him, the way he worked on the house, not giving himself any rest whenever he came back before finding a fence to paint, a tree to wrangle, something to fix. She wondered if all that was truly a sign of change for him like he had described.
The truck stopped abruptly and she felt herself propelled towards the back. She felt a jolting blow to her forehead and for a couple of seconds her whole body felt heavy, the sounds around her - shouting, yelling and what seemed like a car backfiring- reaching her in a muted jumble.
She felt Jimmy shake her, but she couldn't make out what he was saying. She looked up to see flashlights blinding her, before everything went black.