Part Three
"You're not coming in."
The animal outside the door yowled indignantly and continued to glare at him. He sighed and shook his head. "She's spoiling you," he grumbled as he opened the door and the grey tabby sauntered into the kitchen, utterly ignoring him as it made its way into the living room, perching on the back of the sofa to clean itself meticulously. Still muttering under his breath, Cable ignored the cat and headed back into the bedroom. The shower was still running as he started stripping the sheets off the bed to be washed with the rest of the laundry. He shook out the down comforter and spread it back on the mattress.
He heard the water shut off and Dom emerged, wrapped in a towel, long hair dripping water on the floor.
Nate sat on the end of the bed while she dressed and toweled her hair dry. She took a seat next to him, braiding her dark hair with quick, deft movements until it was a long thick rope hanging down her back. He reached over and gave the braid a tug, and she smacked him on the arm. He gave her his best petulant look.
"Nate..." A smile tugged at the corners of her mouth, then she gave in, flopping backwards on the bed, laughing.
He seized the opportunity to tickle her exposed midriff, chuckling as she shrieked and swatted at his hands. She propped herself up on her elbows and mock-glared at him. "That wasn't very nice."
"No, it wasn't, was it?" He smirked.
"Bastard." She tossed one of the pillows at him, which thumped harmlessly to the floor as he dodged it. "You're no fun."
"Because I won't let you clobber me on a daily basis?" He gave her an amused look. "Living with you full time could be bad for my health."
"Uh-huh. Living with you could be bad for my mental health." The joke fell flat, and she dropped back onto the bed, watching as the cat wandered into the room. "There's my baby," she cooed, scratching the animal behind the ears as it hopped up next to her.
"You're spoiling that cat."
"He does have a name, you know."
"'Hazard' is not a name."
"Yes it is. An apparently apt one, given how often you claim he's tried to trip you..."
Nathan made a face. "I thought he was supposed to be a barn cat."
"Well, what can I say? He's scruffy and has bad manners."
"Then shouldn't his name be Logan--ow!"
"You big baby. You should be glad I have a fondness for troublemakers."
"I resent that remark."
Dom snorted. "Right. Don't you have laundry to do?"
"Well..."
"Get a move on, buster." She pushed him lightly with her foot.
"You're not going to help?"
"It's your turn." She sat up, brushing her hands on her jeans. Hazard glared, apparently annoyed at the cessation of the attention being lavished on him. "I'll help you haul this stuff downstairs, then you're on your own."
"You have something planned?"
She arched an eyebrow at him. "No... but that doesn't mean I'm gonna do your work for you. Equal partnership and all... if I let you get away with it, I'd end up doing all the work."
"Thank you for having so much faith in me," he replied dryly. Domino just grinned at him, and scooped up a load of laundry.
----
Domino was stretched out on the bed, scribbling something down in a bound journal as he came back into the room. He'd known for years that she wrote to herself--about what he'd never asked. There was an intimacy to the habit that he'd never been comfortable breaching.
"Still laying around?"
"Something else I should be doing?" She asked, looking up as she closed the book.
"Suppose not." He shifted, still watching her.
Domino shoved the journal into the top drawer of her nightstand and rolled onto her back, trying to ease the tension growing between her shoulder blades. Struggling over the issue in her head, she had to wonder who was grappling more with the changes going on in their lives--on the surface, Nathan seemed calm about it, the desire in him to settle into this new routine so palpable it was disconcerting. Guilt at her own lingering uncertainties washed over her and she closed her eyes, shoving it away and concentrating on not projecting the conflict she was feeling. It wasn't successful--or her posture betrayed her, because she felt him sit down on the bed next to her. Fingers brushed over the bare skin of her throat.
"Something the matter?"
"No." She forced herself to relax a little. "This law thing..." She trailed off, turning her head to look out the window. His hand came to rest on her shoulder.
"Just a thought. I'd have to look into a few things. I don't have to--"
She met his eyes. "No, you should, if it's what you want. I think..." she balled up all her courage and plunged onward. "We can't really keep doing what we used to. You--" She stopped short, head dropping to the side.
"Is that the problem?" He murmured, leaning over her. "Dom, I know I'm not invincible, all joking aside. I have to pick my battles more carefully from now on."
She nodded wordlessly, her conscience screaming at her to come clean, but unable to bring herself to broach the subject. "We'll just have to be more picky," she said finally, pushing herself into a sitting position. "Think I'm gonna go make lunch. You want a sandwich?"
"Dunno. Is it going to be edible?"
"Hey now. Kitchen appliances may cringe at my approach, but I can assemble sliced bread and meat with the best of them."
He grinned. "Speaking of food--it's Friday."
"So it is. I don't know why you've decided to make this a ritual..."
"I thought you liked going out."
"I do! But I think the wait staff at the restaurant is starting to get a little wary of us..."
"And whose fault is that?"
"It was one napkin. One! Besides, we always leave a nice tip. I think you just do this 'cause you can force me to dress up."
"I have no ulterior motives what-so-ever. I just thought it would be a nice routine to have. It's two hours, tops, once a week."
"Uh huh. I still think it's cause you're a lecherous old man..."
"No comment."
----
"Crap."
"What's up, Jenny?"
"It's Friday."
"Yeah so--ooooh. Them."
"Yeah, Them. Hey, Cindy hasn't worked a Friday before--I say we make her take 'em."
"Take who?" Cindy piped up, wandering into the kitchen and eyeing her coworkers. "Is this like some sort of newbie initiation?"
Jack snickered. "Something like that. Ow!" He jumped as Jenny elbowed him in the ribs. Cindy eyed the two warily.
"Okay, what the hell? Spill, you two."
"Oh, nothing, really." Jenny replied. "There's just this couple that comes in every Friday--"
"They're not a--"
"Shut up, Jack. Anyway. They're just a bit--eccentric. We all take turns waiting on 'em. They always leave a really nice tip," she added.
"Oh, sure. Lure her in with the tip factor. That's low Jen. Just because it's your week--"
"Hey, what are you guys gabbing about back here?"
"Hey Parker. Nothin' much. Jen's just trying to pawn off the regulars on Cindy."
"The huge guy with the weird girlfriend?"
"She's not his girlfriend! I keep telling you--"
"Come off it, Jack. She is not a mental patient. There isn't a mental hospital within twenty miles of here!"
"Um... huge guy?" Cindy was watching her coworkers with trepidation.
"Yeah. Not fat-huge. Huge huge. Like, Hulk huge. He's gotta be close to seven feet. Wide too. And he's got this little chick he always brings with him..."
"She's not little," Jenny broke in.
"What?"
"She's not little. She's pretty tall, actually."
"Really? Must be 'cause next to him she looks dinky..."
"Or because you just stare at her chest the whole time."
"I do not! And Jen's right, Jack. Can't be a mental patient. I saw them making out in the parking lot."
"So?!? What does that prove?"
"I think it's illegal or something..."
"What? To make out with a lunatic? What kinda law is that? Besides, you didn't see her light the napkin on fire."
"I still think you're making that up."
"Am not! Ask Bill, he saw it."
"Riiight. Hey... where'd Cindy go?"
----
"Couldn't we go someplace else every once in a while?"
"And let you scare a whole new batch of underpaid teenagers? I don't think so."
"Aww. You always did know how to ruin a girl's fun." She eyed the menu, swirling her iced tea with the straw. "I think... I'm in the mood for a nice chunk of dead animal."
"Was the chicken alfredo any good?"
"Yeah, not bad." She reached into the basket on the center of the table, "These breadsticks are soggy."
"Well, they could be cold and soggy."
"Ever the optimist," she snorted.
The sat in silence until the waitress came to take their orders. "And how did you want that steak, Ma'am?"
"Still mooing," Dom replied with a grin.
The waitress looked slightly flustered. Then again, she'd seemed nervous since she'd stopped at the table. "She wants it medium rare," Nathan replied coolly, then shot Dom a look, simultaneously jabbing her in the leg with his shoe.
"Ow. That was my shin, bastard," she grumbled as the waitress departed.
"And you're being obnoxious."
"Aw, c'mon. Just living up to my reputation. She was freaked out before she was within five feet of us. I'm sure her coworkers 'filled her in.'"
"And the reason you have to perpetuate this myth is...?"
"It's amusing?"
He sighed. "Oath, woman. Sometimes I swear I'll never understand you."
"Well, good. At least it'll keep you on your toes."
----
"I'm not coming out there." Domino leaned out the passenger side of the SUV and peered at Nathan, who was standing at the rail of the scenic lookout. They'd pulled off into the park because the clouds had cleared while they were at the restaurant, for the first time in what seemed weeks. Nate had wanted to see the stars.
"Your loss," he replied, not turning back to look at her.
She sighed. "I have high heels on, and the ground is utterly saturated. I'll sink."
"Well, all you had to do was ask." He walked back, scooping her out of the car and setting her carefully on the rail after carrying her across the soft ground.
"This is nice." She said finally.
"It's calm."
"Yeah." She pulled her jacket tighter to ward off the chill. "I seem to recall doing this before."
"Siberia. That was sixteen years ago."
She smiled wryly. "Good memory. I remember thinking that you must have been looking for answers."
"I was looking for reasons," he replied. "I should have known they weren't in the stars. They were right under my nose."
"Well, I, for one, am glad you figured it out."
----
"Nathan! Have you been eating my ice cream again?"
"I have no idea what you're talking about," he replied innocently.
"Oh, bull." She waved the empty container in his face accusingly "How many times do I have to say this? The double mocha fudge is mine. You have your damned caramel cashew, which you know I won't touch, because I hate cashews. Really, there are only three things I refuse to share, Nate. My guns, my toothbrush, and my ice cream."
"You steal my clothes."
"And if not for the fact that you'd stretch my sweaters all out of shape, you could too."
"I'll make it up to you," he offered.
"Damn right you will." She tossed the container into the trash and seated herself on his lap, kissing him on the cheek. "However, I get the feeling it won't be much of a hardship."
He grinned. "I think you're right."
She laughed and rested her head on his shoulder. "Y'know, anyone else your age would have the decency to be worn out by now."
"And this bothers you?"
"Did I say that?"
----
"They'll reassign me now, you realize."
"Oh, I don't think so." He traced a finger along her stomach, making idle patterns on her bare skin.
"Don't you? It's a liability. I might decided to 'accidentally' let you escape." She slid her arm around his back, tugging him closer.
"It'll never happen. Even if you did, I'd never make it out of the facility. The higher ups know that."
Her forehead creased in concern. "Milo..."
He kissed her. "Don't worry about it. As long as I have you as my personal bodyguard--"
"Very personal," she grinned.
"Everything will be right as rain."
"Such an optimist," she replied, shifting, savoring the feel of his skin against her own. What she was doing was insane, she knew, and yet it didn't seem to matter.
"Always."
She broke through the dream like a swimmer piercing the surface of a lake, sending ripples of agitation that disturbed the sleeping form next to her. There was a murmur of concern, half verbal, half telepathic impression. She propped herself up on an elbow, brushing his cheek lightly with her hand. "I'm fine, go back to sleep." She pressed a kiss to his forehead before turning to settle in next to him.
Strong arms engulfed her, pulling her to the warmth of his broad chest--reflex more than conscious action, she thought with amusement, like a child with a teddy bear.
There was a sharp feeling in her chest at the reminder of his strange vulnerability, and guilt followed to haunt her.