Part Six: Dark Side of the Honeymoon

Lucy spends most of the rest of the evening out on the deck, seemingly doing nothing other than listening to the ocean and gazing up at the stars. Tim is tempted to ask her what she finds so mesmerizing — if she's into something like astronomy and the tides or if there's some other reason. But he promised he'd leave her alone after their conversation and he does.

When he walks out of the bathroom later that evening after his shower, he finds that Lucy has made her way back inside and gotten ready for bed. She's splayed diagonally across their bed flipping through a magazine. Her hair is piled up on the top of her head in a high bun and she's wearing a tiny robe that immediately draws his eyes to her ass. Because it's not actually covering her ass. It's rucked up just enough to reveal a pair of boyshort panties with some sort of text splashed across her ass. He squints, Bite Me. Must be a sibling of Happy Meal. Cute. It's certainly not making him think about just exactly how much he wants another opportunity to do exactly that.

She is staring right at him when he finally turns his gaze back to her face, and if he wasn't damn sure that she had specifically intended the message for him, he might be a little embarrassed to be caught gawking at her ass after everything that had happened earlier today. But he has a feeling she isn't going to be shy about reminding him he is the stupidest man on earth for fucking up his chance with her every opportunity she gets. It is probably — definitely — what he deserves. But that certainly doesn't mean it's going to be any less painful.

She reaches back to grab something and when he hears the crinkle of a bag of chips, his eyes narrow. And yup, she rips the bag open so violently that a few of the chips scatter over the comforter. She glances up at him again as if daring him to say something to her. She noisily chomps on a few chips before popping a finger into a mouth to lick off the residue. He clenches his jaw. That little… For a moment he's distracted by the movement of her lips around her finger. And damn he wants to set her straight in a very specific and explicit way for all of the crap she's pulling.

He instead clears his throat to protest about the crumbs she is getting in their bed when he realizes that his pillow isn't actually on the bed. She has deposited it and a blanket unceremoniously in a haphazard pile on the floor.

She smiles sweetly when he glances back at her, and he is tempted to say something. But ultimately he just shakes his head and rolls his eyes. It's not like he's really in a position to kick her out of bed. And he's not an idiot. He knows he's the asshole and that Lucy is very likely going to be hurt and pissed off at him for some time to come. So, if playing these little games makes her feel better? That's fine with him. As long as she realizes that two can play.

He makes his way back to his suitcase, bending down to retrieve his clothing and he chances a quick glance back at her. This time it's her eyes that are locked on him, and she's not looking at his face. She actually does have the decency to look embarrassed when she realizes she's been caught out.

Her eyes widen when his hands move to where the towel is secured around his waist and he begins to loosen the wrap, allowing the towel to slide a few inches further south around his hips. Her mouth is slightly agape and he has to admit that he's enjoying this. "I'd turn around unless you want a show, Lucy," and he has to resist laughing out loud when it looks like she is seriously contemplating her choice.

He tugs the towel loose and hears a small "eep" escape her as she scrambles to face away from him.

He tugs on a pair of pajama pants and decides to forego his shirt. If he's going to be on the floor, he may as well try and be as comfortable as he can be in other ways. There's definitely no other reason. Lucy watches him with narrowed eyes as he crosses over to his new "bed". He stops to look at her, "What?"

"What exactly do you have against shirts, Tim?"

His lips twitch. "What exactly do you have against pants, Lucy?"

These are the burning questions that need answers. They stare at each other unblinking.

"Whatever," Lucy finally huffs and crawls to the edge of the bed so she can walk to the bathroom, again reminding Tim that he can 'bite her' and that she has possibly the most perfect ass he's ever seen. It's going to be a long seven weeks.


They oversleep the next morning. Tim, who is typically the early riser, has such a miserable night on the floor that he sleeps well past his normal wake-up time. And Lucy, who has come to rely on Tim being up and about as her own alarm clock, also ends up sleeping in, only waking when her cell phone begins to go off repeatedly.

"Hello?" she answers tiredly. And then, "Shit! Sorry — we'll be right there."

She none too gently nudges Tim with her foot as she scrambles out of the bed. "Tim, get up! We have to be downstairs in ten minutes."

He groans, "What?" And then, after glancing at the time on his phone, he jolts upright. "Shit!"

They end up on top of each other in the bathroom. Tim quickly gets irritated by Lucy bobbing and weaving around him to collect what she needs from a variety of drawers — her hairbrush, her toothbrush, a ponytail holder, her moisturizer, her sunscreen, and so on — and he's about to grouse at her for not being more organized when he realizes it.

The military had given him structure and routine, but it had also made him rigid and set in his ways. He hadn't even thought twice about claiming the spaces he habitually did — the top and central drawers — organized optimally for his morning and evening routines.

And Lucy hadn't said a word, quietly making do with the lower drawers on opposite sides of the vanity without a single complaint. And he's realizing now that she had been that way about a lot of things — always waiting for him to finish in the bathroom in the mornings before she started to get ready for the day, settling for coffee instead of tea when it was clear the PAs were not capable of dealing with complicated orders, the way she had slept on the right side of the bed when she'd had it to herself last night instead of the left when she had been sharing it with him.

She had been adapting and filling in around him this entire time, without him even realizing she was doing it. Both the exact opposite to him and a perfect complement.


Their excursion for today is spelunking — a tour through the underground river system 1. Tim is relieved to have the distraction, but he notices Lucy seems tense. That's probably to be expected given everything that happened yesterday. He wouldn't want to spend the day with himself either after that.

Things are cordial, if not still a bit cool between them. She's not unkind to him or anyone else around them, and, had he not been privy to how she was before he'd blown everything up, he's not sure he'd even have noticed that something is off.

But he had been, and it's hard not to notice the change in her demeanor. She's quieter — more withdrawn and guarded — and the girl that had made such an effort to get to know him is long gone. She mostly keeps to herself, and Tim would be lying if he didn't feel a dull ache every time she finds an excuse to put more distance between them — setting her things beside her on the shuttle so it's clear he should sit somewhere else; heading off on her own to gear up in the provided wetsuit, wet shoes, and helmet; and drifting away from his side and closer to the front during the orientation.

He's also starting to recognize that maybe the sunshine and rainbows thing is something she chooses to project to the world. Something she is capable of switching off. And for as much as he probably would have been happy for her to flip the switch on their wedding day, it makes him sad to see her so dimmed now. He didn't realize how much he'd come to appreciate her sweet optimism in just a few days.

He'd felt hopeful that their conversation last night and the light teasing between them before bed had been an indication that they were already on their way to finding their footing again, but now it's clear that he is the one that's being naive. Even if there isn't outright hostility between them, and even if they are able to share a few lighter moments here and there, things are never going to go back to the way they were between them, and that hurts him deeply.

Lucy again makes a point of distancing herself away from him during the tour — much to production's chagrin, given how difficult it is for them to capture shots of the group moving through the watery caves. The tour is a combination of walking and swimming, and as they move through the maze of tunnels and caverns, the space only continues to become darker and tighter until they reach a point where filming is no longer viable. The crew packs up the limited equipment they had been able to bring in given the watery climate and one of the guides peels off of the group to guide them through the rest of the route sans commentary so they can exit.

They are about 40 minutes and a half mile into the two-hour tour when Tim hears a commotion in front of him and their guide yelling for someone to stop. "Miss, stop — you can't go that way. You have to exit this way. Miss!"

And it's not even a second later that someone is pushing past him. And less than a fraction of a second after that that he realizes it's Lucy. What the hell?

His first instinct is to grab her, but he idiotically hesitates — the way she had reacted to his touch yesterday is still so fresh in his mind. And then she is past the group and literally sprinting back the way they had come through the slippery and treacherous terrain. The guide is pushing through the group, screaming at her to stop. And there is no mistaking the panic in his voice as he utters a string of curse words in Spanish and radios in what is clearly an emergency call.

Tim's legs are already tensing preparing to sprint after her but he grabs the guide by the arm, "Why can't she go back that way?" All he remembers from the orientation was a strict instruction to never leave the group without a guide and that traffic is only allowed to move in one direction through the caves. He had thought that was just to avoid tour groups running into each other, but he now has a sinking feeling that there is another reason.

The guide is obviously distressed shaking his head as he looks back toward the group and then toward where Lucy has disappeared, and then back again. Tim assumes he is willing the second guide to reappear.

He tightens his grip, his own panic starting to rise in his chest. "Why can't she go that way?" he demands more firmly this time, his teeth gritted.

The guide looks at him and the fear in his eyes is so intense that Tim is already moving even before he's answered the question.

"Sir — you can't!" the guide screams behind him. "The tides — you'll get trapped!"

And it takes very little time for Tim to realize what the guide had been so terrified about — they had entered the caves at the lowest point and the tour had gradually been taking them further and further up in altitude. It's unmistakably clear the water is rising — portions of the river that had been only a few inches deep when they'd initially come through are now up to his knees, water that had been up to his knees is now up to his waist, and it is only getting worse as he continues to make his way back toward the entrance.

What the fuck is happening? Why the hell wouldn't she have stopped when she saw this? Why the hell would she have taken off like that to begin with?

Eventually, he has no choice but to swim and the rushing current that had been swirling around his legs as he walked is even more difficult to swim through. And he is suddenly unsure if he is going to catch up to her at all — he has no idea how good of a swimmer she is, but even an extremely strong swimmer would struggle against this current. He is struggling against the current, rapidly becoming scared for his own life and realizing his only choice may be to stop fighting the current and turn back. He has to believe that she would have turned back in the face of this, but she hasn't. And that means she is either still trying to get back to the entrance or that she just didn't make it.

And no. No. That isn't an option. Turning back isn't an option. He is going to find her, even if that means staying in this cave until the tide has passed and they can recover her body. It's a morbid thought, but she isn't Lucy to him anymore. She is a life he is trying to save and he has to be rational and realistic about the possibilities in order to assess the situation.

Though, to be honest, if he was truly being rational and realistic, he wouldn't have gone after her at all and instead let the professional emergency response team with the proper equipment and knowledge of these caves and the tides do their jobs. But he hadn't because no part of him had even considered not going after her, considered not trying to help her the moment he knew she was in danger. And now there's a very real possibility that they'll be recovering two bodies.

It takes him far too long to catch up to her, but when he sees her, the resulting burst of adrenaline is probably what saves his life. They are in the final cavern, which has filled with more than ten feet of water that is continuing to rise. Lucy has somehow miraculously made it to the wall with the rope ladder that they hand used to descend into the caves, and she is desperately trying to grasp it, but he can see her exhaustion each time the current knocks her back, not allowing her to get purchase against the wall and grab the ladder.

Tim fights his way to her, usually every last bit of energy he has to grasp the ladder with one hand and Lucy's waist with the other. Her eyes are wide with fear and panic, but she does everything right, immediately grabbing the ladder when Tim yanks her toward it. She pulls herself up to safety above the tide marker as Tim gets slammed back into the wall by the current. The wind is knocked out of him and he is paralyzed. He can't do it — doesn't have an ounce of energy left to fight his way back to the ladder.

No — Lucy is turning back, screaming his name, and climbing back down into the danger zone. And all Tim can feel is relief when he sees that a rescue diver attached to a guideline anchor reel is descending the ladder and grabbing hold of her to drag her back up toward the exit. It's the last thing he sees.


Everything hurts. It's the first thought Tim has when he opens his eyes. Worse than if he had been hit at full speed a hundred times over and over by the biggest linebacker he'd ever seen without any protective equipment.

But the football field is almost immediately wiped from his mind's eye as he returns to the present. He jolts upright even as the hands of a surprised EMT attempt to hold him down. There's something confining on his face and he rips the oxygen mask off, eyes frantically searching.

Where is she?

And when he spots her standing a few feet away, the feeling of every bit of tension leaving his body is immense but far too short-lived. He ignores the protest of the EMT as he scrambles to his feet and storms toward her.

"What the fuck was that? What the hell were you thinking, Lucy. You could have — you almost died." The weight of his distress causes his voice to break.

And he is so angry, absolutely furious with her. Not solely because she had put both of their lives in very real danger, but because of the realization that this woman — who he's known for less than a week and who he's already decided couldn't possibly be for him — the idea that she could be so reckless and impulsive with her own life has him feeling a kind of terror he hasn't felt since Isabel had spiraled into her addiction.

And she's not even fucking looking at him, her head tilted back up toward the sky. Her wetsuit is folded down around her waist, and it takes Tim a few seconds too long to process that the rise and fall of her chest is far too rapid. She is sucking in air like there isn't possibly enough left for her.

Shit. "Lucy, it's okay. You're okay. Just breathe." Is that what this was? Some kind of insane panic attack?

He cautiously reaches out his fingers to touch her arm and she finally looks at him, her hands scrabbling to grip his forearms. The tears streaming down her cheeks are intermingling with the drops of water that are dripping down her face from her hair.

"T-Tim," she finally gets out in something that's a cross between a gasp and a sob.

He establishes a firm grip on her arms and keeps his eyes locked on hers, repeating, "Lucy, it's okay. Just breathe for me, okay?"

She nods and then, just like that, it's over. She focuses on taking deep, slow breaths, but they are controlled, and she's no longer crying.

They hang on to each other for a few more moments and then allow the EMTs to complete checking them out. And then as quickly as it had all begun, it is over. And it's just the two of them standing in the clearing outside of the entrance to the underground river. The shuttle isn't due to pick them up for another hour on the opposite side of the route and they had left their phones on it to avoid water damage from the swim. The EMTs had offered them a ride to either the hospital or the resort, but they both declined. It's less than a mile back to the hotel, and, for as sore and exhausted as they both are, the fresh air is a salve after what they endured in that cavern.

They walk silently until they reach the beach. Tim stops short and Lucy turns to look at him, her eyes wary.

His throat is thick when he speaks, "Why would you do that?" He needs to know, and it can't wait any longer.

"I wasn't trying to — I just — I really needed to get out of there. I'm sorry."

And it's not nearly good enough. Tim shakes his head in disbelief, "Did you have a panic attack? Are you claustrophobic or something?" He needs this to make some kind of sense, though the idea that she might be claustrophobic and didn't bother to say anything before they entered the caves is nothing short of enraging.

"No — I mean — I don't know," her eyes fill. "This hasn't happened in a really long time. I thought I would be fine but I think the stress of all of this just — I'm sorry. I'm really, really sorry. I didn't know that would happen or I never would have gone in there to begin with, Tim."

And the way she's looking up at him — her hair still wet, her hands anxiously wringing, her eyes sad and pleading — she looks so damn vulnerable it makes him ache. And the fact that there is no doubt his actions — being so callous and careless with her heart — only increased the stress of this entire situation for her — it's almost unbearable to think that he could somehow have been responsible for this.

He finally nods, his voice breaking when he eventually finds a way to get the words out, "I'm sorry, too, Lucy."

And suddenly the weight of all of it is hitting him at once — every single thing that's happened between the two of them since the day they met; every single thing that's happened since the life he had dreamed of for himself and Isabel had been so cruelly ripped away after a cycle of the worst kind of pain and addiction and enablement.


Agony. There's no other word for it.

For the first time since she's met him, his carefully constructed guard is down and she can see it — how much pain he is in, all of the time.

She can see him — the man who had pushed her away as hard as he possibly could the moment things had started to get real between them, because he couldn't tolerate even the possibility of bearing an ounce more.

This man is broken. And everything inside of her is hurting for him and wants to help him fix it, despite everything he has put her through. But she feels like she is falling apart and what could she possibly have to offer him when she isn't even sure how to piece herself back together?

She presses her eyes closed and feels the tears roll down her cheeks as she faces the enormity of what she had done and the consequences that were so narrowly avoided. She turns her gaze to the ocean, not wanting to see him watch her as she cries. How could a place so beautiful — a place that had been so close to the start of something beautiful, have become the backdrop for so much heartbreak?

She sniffles and wipes her eyes before turning back to him. "I'm going to keep walking for a bit. I think I just need some space."

He simply nods, his eyes red and watery with his own tears.

She turns and begins to walk away before pausing to look back at him, "Tim?" She waits until he meets her gaze, "Thank you."

"For what?" he asks, confused.

"You saved my life."