Chapter 16 - Cold
Cold, you broke me from the very first night
I'd love you 'til the day that I die
I'm far too comfortable this time
Cold, I loved you from the very first night
You broke me 'til the day that I die
I'm far too obvious this time - Evans Blue
Leaps of faith come with consequences, a truth I would come face to face with once I embraced getting help. Not all consequences are bad, the word has a horrible connotation. For me, it's a light at the end of the tunnel.
Hope.
It's what brings me to Rock Creek Park walking down a nature path I've run through countless times. A potential storm has driven patrons out of the park and even as cool droplets fall, I continue walking until I come up on the creek itself. The gurgling water rushes past me, between the rocks and down its winding path.
It makes its own way with few elements on Earth to stop whatever trajectory it takes. I was once like that water, not letting much stand in my way until loneliness became my weakness. I stood on my own for so long that I went to men after men who told me what I thought I wanted. Each one took a piece of me, my independence, my life.
Each one, except for Harm.
He wants me for me. He loves me for me - faults and all because we both come from the shadows. We both have demons that often come out to play and thrust us back into that darkness. A darkness born from death.
I mull through the past he shared, the lives that were gone from this Earth which caused him so much pain. His soul is just as stained as mine but sadly my wounds are fresh, harder to get a handle on. And even as I follow the creek and my heels dig into muddy ground, all I have to do is think about Paraguay to find myself off kilter.
I drop onto a park bench when the weight crashes down on me and my chest tightens. I can't breathe once the screams begin and I'm not sure if they are mine or Webb's. Harm barges into the shack and I know what comes next, he'll be shot and blame me for his death as the light dies in his eyes.
'You'll work through this yourself.' The voice that echoes isn't mine but that of Dr. Ogden. It repeats the words and though I don't yet know how to stop the spiral, I have to try something.
I don't want to die. I don't want to live a life dictated by bottomless depression that steals all that I was. And I don't want to hurt him.
The rain falls even heavier now seeping through my uniform so that it's heavy and cold on my body. 'You'll work through this yourself.'
When I push off the bench in effort to stand, something slams me back down. The screams are back, louder than ever with a plea for help that is impossible for me to stop. They're louder and louder, my own screams as I'm strapped onto a hard wooden surface and shackled.
I know I'll be tortured, raped and used as a play thing for sick men. Clay can't keep them away and Harm, oh Harm… he busts open that door and the bullet sails towards him and stops suddenly, hanging in mid-air. 'You'll work through this yourself.'
My eyes lock onto his, a silent conversation that has him jumping out of the way once the bullet takes flight again and slams into the wooden door. There's a rat-tat-tat of gunfire - his as he shoots back and hits his mark. When he reaches me, my shackles dissolve into nothing. He helps me sit and places his rifle in my hands while his large palms cup my face. "Let's get out of here."
When I open my eyes they focus on his, that almost cerulean filled with love and concern. His palms are still cupping my face, thumbs stroking my cheeks so lovingly it makes my heart ache. I'm not in Paraguay anymore, the cool rain falling upon us, the sound of the gurgling creek bringing me back to the present.
He's real. He's real and alive and so wonderfully close that the scent of him is all around me. I love him and I want to love him. I want to heal and I want to heal him. Harm doesn't force me to get up and leave this spot, his eyes speak what words never could - he understands this need for catharsis. Rather than threaten or force me, he simply sits by my side, in the rain.
We step into his apartment hours later, both of us soaked to the bone and freezing. He's shaking when he tries to start his fireplace and offers me to use the shower first. I don't make it up the steps when I turn around and stop to look at him.
I love him. I trust him and I need him to trust me. Which is why I head back for him, thread his fingers through mine and lead him across the loft. He doesn't question when I strip before him but tries to stop my hands when they raise the hem of his soaked shirt. "I trust you with my heart and with my life. I need you to trust me with yours. No more hurt. No more pain."
"Okay." He's leary and I can't blame him. The last time we were intimate, I had made such a mess of things. "No more pain."
We step into the hot spray of water, his mouth covering mine while the warmth staves the cold. Harm's gentle, aching slow, each touch calculated and reverent as he lathers my body with soap and then takes care to wash it all off.
His fingers deftly massage shampoo into my hair while my own hands run the bar of soap across the expanse of his chest, his back, his six and over his length. He moans and I take a ragged breath when his hand parts my thighs to find me ready for him.
Once the soap had rinsed off our bodies and disappeared down the drain he raises me up and urges my legs to wrap around his waist as he carries me to the bedroom.
We're both covered in beads of water when we crash into the sheets and his hard body covers mine. When he loves me it's heartbreakingly slow, his hardness barely moving within me and yet I felt the edges of passion build and crash over me. He holds me down, fingers threaded through fingers, hands pinning hands above my head, lips against lips. He takes my breath away, he takes the battered slivers of my soul and mends me just for this while.