It was bright.
The late days of spring that was yet to fully turn into summer.
Bright but not too warm.
And under the white sheet, the light was filtered into softer tones.
The bed too was comfortable, more comfortable than anything he had tested before.
John lay on the mattress on his back, observing the nude woman resting against his chest.
She was softer here too, more open, more vulnerable.
Cortana turned her head to look at him in the eyes but her hand still continued to graze his upper-arm.
She had asked him to help her mount a hook on the wall and the ceiling to keep the sheet slightly elevated above the headboard.
He had wondered her request, not seeing the point of obstructing view from inside the bed. He was used to sleeping lightly, ready to defend himself — a task much harder if you couldn't see beyond the bed.
However, he had soon learned that, for her, it wasn't about not seeing the world, but not being seen by it.
When lying immobile enough, you could almost pass as non-existent.
Just another furniture that had been left behind in this house.
And in those moments, she came alive. Not alive in the sense when she let him tie her up, the days when they had sex on the kitchen counter or the second-floor balcony. But alive in the sense of letting her guards down, looking at him with wonder and hope someone like her could have shaken off a long time ago.
And he knew he returned the favor full-time, looking at her for hours while tracing her skin.
There were times when Cortana just rested her head on his chest and her eyes became distant. She would look somewhere beyond their sheet-shelter; her eyes carrying a look that made him want to free her from whatever she dragged behind her.
To reciprocate her courtesy, he never asked.
But he couldn't deny spending extra moments at searching through the house and the garden with his eyes whenever he was in a cupboard or a hide-out he hadn't seen before.
But there was nothing.
Not a single ornament. A single painting. Or a single letter that would have paved her any past.
The mis-colorings on the walls and tables, however, told him that long before him, the house had been much less bare than it was now.
She had only two things. An old musket on the living room wall, and a pistol in her nightstand.
Well, three things, since she had claimed ownership on the chip she had originally given him. The chip he still carried in his pocket.
"It's mine you know. I'm just lending it to you."
"I can give it back," he had murmured only to be turned down with a kiss. 'And lose the luck?' she had asked.
In the filtered light, her hair and eyes seemed to glow to substitute the sun they were hiding from.
He knew her from head to toe, knew how she smiled when he caressed her sides and traced her arteries.
He didn't know how long the world would let them continue like this.
The spring breeze was already swirling through the house but not yet strong enough to reach under the covers.
Three weeks ago, an unknown older man had appeared at the villa, only to be cursed away after a dispute. Cortana had already been visibly ready to get the musket before the man had left with a flurry of Italian words on his tail.
Words he couldn't translate, but could understand.
It had been a stark difference to the woman on his side now.
The one who reached up to kiss him softly to attach him to the present.
The one who could see him and let him see, even without knowing, even when covered from the world.
A/N: Really liked to write for this AU.