Summary: Since surviving Skull Island, Conrad has been living in New York with his new girlfriend Ada, trying to move onwards with his life and deal with the psychological consequences of his final mission. He thought he was doing pretty well at both, until Ada scores them a free trip to England, intent on meeting his mother.


Time

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November 27, 1973

Conrad woke up in shallow, gasping breaths. He was covered in a fine layer of sweat despite the blasting AC unit across the bedroom. His eyes darted to every other familiar object he could make out, and he breathed more evenly in the darkness.

Despite yet another shitty night's sleep, Conrad was grateful to remember he was not alone. Even if it meant that Ada, once again, had their bedsheets twisted up into an impossible pretzel-shape between their bodies.

Technically, she was sleeping both next to him and above him; when he slowly laid back down, her hip and thigh went back to resting lightly on his shoulder while her body curved around his head. As usual, she slept on her side clutching one of his pillows. The corner of Conrad's mouth quirked up into a fond smile.

She had always been like this, even on their first night together. Oh, they had fallen asleep normally enough (after their third round of explosive and satisfying reunion sex). With Conrad holding Ada gently in his arms, her gripping his arm like a lifeline as if she were afraid that he hadn't really come to New York for her, or even less likely, that he would leave her before the morning.

And by morning, he'd woken with her smooth, shapely legs draped across his lap and his right hand held firmly in both of hers, tucked between her breasts.

He'd been thoroughly confused by the position they were in, but hadn't had the heart to untangle himself and wake her. She'd eventually explained (while blushing) that her field work as a journalist made her get used to sleeping odd hours, in odd places, which somehow had translated into odd positions. But that night, having him to hold onto had curbed the fear that she'd recently been waking up with—that she'd never left the island alive. That she'd drowned at the bottom of the lake. That she was still falling from the cliff, or had been snatched up by a monster without eyes and several jagged teeth, slowly being eaten alive. Every night after coming home had been a new possibility, and Conrad was glad his presence had been able to help her feel grounded in the reality of her apartment. His own nights were less predictable.

"You're awake, aren't you," grumbled a sleepy voice above him. Ada's soft hand reached down to touch his sweat-slicked chest.

Conrad forced his breathing to normalize before he took her hand. He pressed a lingering kiss into her palm.

Concern dripped into her voice. "You okay?"

He nodded. "Go back to sleep."

Conrad felt the bed shift with her movements, and he smiled a little when her lips met his brow. Her arms enveloped him, now crossing over his chest instead of her pillow. His sweat was drying in the AC and made the air cold on his skin. If he were to turn over, he was sure it would be wet and warm on the mattress underneath. He didn't want her to be uncomfortable because of him.

"I'll move to the couch if—"

"Nuh uh," Ada uttered through the dredges of sleep. Her hold on him tightened. "You're my pillow now."

Even after six months, her grumpiness was still endearing to him. Mostly because he knew she was a tactile person by nature. Her affection was weighed in touchiness, and he was all right with that.

"Is this my penance for waking you?" he couldn't help but tease. It also helped him focus on her, this moment, and not the men he failed. Part of a reservoir of memories that had filled up long before he stepped foot on Skull Island, but they were the most recent failures, and therefore at the top of his subconscious's "greatest hits collection."

"Only if you plan to keep me up all night," she groused, but it had little heat. Even so, Conrad felt a twinge of guilt.

"Sorry. You have an interview in the morning."

One of her hands rose, feeling for his chin and then his mouth, to cover it.

"They rescheduled for the afternoon. Hush now, so we can sleep in."

Conrad nipped her palm playfully, then smirking at her indignant yelp. He grabbed her wrist before she could take back her hand and joined it with the other on his chest. She shook them both with her silent laughter. Eventually though, they fell into a more contemplative silence.

"Want to talk about it?" she offered.

"It's just more of the same."

She hummed in response, holding him a little tighter.

"If it weren't for you, I wouldn't be alive. None of us would be," Ada said. He figured she knew exactly what he had dreamed. Maybe he couldn't allow himself to forget the people they lost, the fellow men-in-arms he couldn't save, but he was grateful that she did this every time. She had come to sense when he needed to bury it for the moment, push it down and down like the soldier he was, but also when he needed to, and should, talk it through.

"I definitely wouldn't be here with you," she added.

"I'm grateful for that," Conrad replied. She hummed again, and he could hear her smile in it. With her gently stroking his chest, and his fingers pressed into her wrist just enough to feel her steady pulse point, he was finally lulled back into the warm embrace of slumber.


They had a predictably lazy Saturday morning, where Conrad was content to nurse a cup of tea on the couch while Ada laid in his arms, catching up on no less than five newspapers and sipping on her third cup of coffee. This one was decaf; he had been slowly weaning her down to a healthier level of caffeine per day. It was a concession she was willing to make for a man that had given up his apartment in London to move in with her, after no less than two months of dating.

When Monarch opened an office in New York three weeks later and offered Conrad a job, it had felt like an affirmation. They were moving fast, but so was the world around them, and it felt right enough that withstanding her Catholic mother's disapproval was easier than anything else she'd accomplished this year.

So their lazy morning eventually turned into a lazier afternoon, with Chinese takeout and trying in vain to wash the newspaper ink off of her hands. Conrad dutifully watered her houseplants because she had a knack for killing them (she often forgot the whole watering part).

"I thought you said you had an interview," he commented after she finally dressed for the day. A worn pair of ripped jeans and a turtleneck was not her usual ensemble for conducting a professional meeting, and Conrad knew it. His sharp eyes never missed much, just like now, how they narrowed at her impish smile.

"Okay, so, slight change of plans. Would you mind coming with me on a little stroll?" Ada asked.

He raised a brow. "Stroll" was not a typical word in her vocabulary (unless she was making fun of his Britishness, which she did only when she knew she was losing an argument), and they had just gone grocery shopping a couple of days ago. He didn't remember her having to run any other errands today either…

"Where to?" he asked.

"Just down a few blocks." She hefted on her winter coat and the pretty green scarf he'd gotten her for her birthday last month. "I need to pick something up for work, but it's cold as hell out there."

Finished with the plants, Conrad set down the watering jug on the kitchen counter and wiped off his hands on a towel hanging off the sink. "What, you need me to be your personal heater?"

Ada came around the kitchen counter to loop her arms around his, offering up her most endearing smile that almost never failed to break him. Her warm body fully pressed against him only helped her cause.

"Please, baby?" she asked.

Conrad found himself smiling back at her, more wryly. Definitely up to something.

But he wouldn't be a gentleman if he didn't oblige her, tucking her arm under his as they ventured into the blustery, late November of Manhattan. Barring the frigid winter weather, Conrad had come to truly enjoy the city here, it's architecture and rich entertainment, and certainly its food. There were times though, that he began to miss the familiar sights of home. The rain-slicked narrow roads, familiar comforts in grocery stores and pubs—but mostly the inherent feeling of the similarly bustling city he grew up in. Even the countryside where he spent his summers sometimes pulled nostalgia from his heart, despite how much those weeks with his grandparents had often bored him when he was a kid.

Those thoughts soon drifted away from him as Ada led their way, about four blocks down and around the corner to a small travel agency sandwiched between a jewelry store and a French bakery. The agency building was made up of glass windows and a single door.

Ada greeted the woman at the lone office desk after they stepped inside, shrugging the cold off with a shiver. Conrad brushed a few snow flurries out of her hair before they melted.

"Thanks for coming in, hun. Sorry our phones are down again," said Nancy. She took out a file with a sealed envelope and handed it to Ada. They left the agency shortly after, braving the long trek back to the apartment with light snow flurries raining down through the Lower West Side.

"You're going on a trip I take it?" Conrad asked her. Ada's gaze glinted with a bit of mischief when she looked up at him.

"Jerry gave me an assignment I couldn't pass up, and…I thought maybe you'd want to tag along."

His own eyes widened. He didn't know what he was expecting, but it wasn't this. "Really now. Where?"

In lieu of answering, she offered him the envelope. He raised a brow at her, but took it and slid a finger under the sealed part to open it. He found two tickets to London, departing in two weeks' time on a Thursday night.

"It's been a while since you've been able to go home," she said.

Conrad felt warmth invade his chest and a smile form on his face. "That it has."

He would have to tell Brooks when he got back to the office on Monday, but he could probably arrange some time off that week. Hopefully he wouldn't have an "unscheduled" field assignment crop up.

He pocketed the tickets and stopped them for a moment by taking hold of Ada's hand, tugging her closer so he could hold her face in his hands. It had the added benefit of warming her face a little with his warm leather gloves. She looked pleased with herself for catching him off guard, but also that he had enjoyed her surprise. He appreciated her all the more for thinking of him, and had to wonder if this was her way of cheering him up after the difficult last few weeks he'd been having. He kissed her lips tenderly, then dropped another kiss to her forehead.

"Thank you, darling."

She seemed to be trying to taper down her smile out of embarrassment. He soothed his thumb across the telltale blush warming her cheek, then let his hands fall so they could continue on their way.

"I get to meet your mom, right?" she asked. They started walking again, but Conrad still held her hand securely in his.

"You want to?" he asked.

"Of course I do!"

"You'll be on assignment though. Will you have time?"

"James." Ada leveled him with a look. "I'm not going all the way to England without meeting your family. Unless…you don't think it's the right time—"

He squeezed her hand, smiling at her to dispel the hint of nervousness in her eyes.

"It's perfect," he said, "I just want to make sure it won't distract from your work."

Ada shook her head as an easy grin returned to her face. "Even if it did, you've survived through no less than five hellish family dinners with my parents, grandparents, and all my crazy cousins. It's only fair."

"I suppose I can deal with 'fair,'" Conrad replied. He ducked his head close to her ear so no one passing by would hear. "Just so long as I get you all to myself in the evenings."

Ada smirked.

"The hotel's already booked and paid for. Do they put those little chocolates on the pillow in England too?"

He raised an amused brow.

"I believe it depends on the hotel," he said.

"Damn. Well, here's hoping Jerry didn't get cheap on us."


"You've gotta be fucking kidding me right now," Ada laughed. It wasn't the fact that her former S.A.S., clinically neat boyfriend color-coded his socks. It was the fact that he color-coded his socks, even when packing his suitcase for a vacation. "You can't honestly tell me you're this anal."

Conrad shot her a mock-affronted look. He had yet another navy sock pair bundled in his hand, ready to join two others set apart from the grays. The other hand came to rest on his hip. They were in their shared bedroom, standing at their respective sides of the bed while they packed for the trip to London, which was quickly approaching in no less than three days. If had been up to Ada she would've forgotten, and later panicked the night before that she had nothing ready for traveling across the Atlantic Ocean for four days.

"All right, mock me if you like," said Conrad. He quirked his brow at her knowingly. "But when I need a pair of underwear I know exactly where they are."

Ada pouted, despite her amusement. She was of the "organized chaos" school of thought, where she could (and would) find her new lacey thong exactly where she put it: hanging on the doorknob behind the shower door.

"And why the hell is that in your bag?" Conrad teased, pointing to a peculiar object sticking out of her travel bag. It was a wooden backscratcher, and Ada took issue with the judgment in his tone.

"I think that'd be fairly obvious," she sniffed. Conrad's hand snuck across the bed and grabbed the handle of her duffle bag. Ignoring Ada's protests, he dragged it towards him so he could examine its contents.

"Let's see. Notebook, camera, recorder, an arsenal of pens and highlighters…" He nodded at all of these sensible items. For her, this was mostly a business trip. But then his smirk grew as he found what he was looking for. He reached into the bag and took out six bottles of various moisturizers and creams.

"Is it really necessary to bring every bottle of body cream you own? And is this…tanning oil?" he remarked, after inspecting a bottle of darker liquid sloshing around. "I'll let you know right now. London is not a tropical climate."

Ada snatched the bottle, and her bag out of his grasp, serving him with an indignant look while trying to hide how much she wanted to laugh.

"God knows I didn't pack enough the last time I did visit a tropical island, so this time I will be prepared! You never know what you might need when you're traveling," she argued.

Conrad didn't buy it for a second. His girl was a packrat at the best of times, but she claimed it worked for her. Just as his lasting militaristic tendencies worked very well for him.


The flight was long, and by the time they checked into their slightly dingy hotel room (which did not have chocolates on the pillow, Ada lamented) they were too exhausted to do anything but shower and go to bed. Conrad left his arm splayed out for Ada to tuck herself right into his side, as usual. He wrapped his arm around her shoulder and she sighed, resting her cheek on his chest.

"Happy to be home?" she asked into the darkness.

"I'll be happy if this mattress doesn't break my back," he replied. She huffed a laugh.

"Don't worry. I'll call Jerry tomorrow and blast his ear off until he agrees to a room upgrade."

"I'll hold you to that."

Eventually they managed to sleep decently enough. Even Conrad's fitful dreams had given him a break, maybe due to the distraction and exhaustion of traveling. In the early morning (an ungodly 7:00 am while she was getting ready), Ada laid out her schedule for the week: attending a series of lectures for a literary conference her newspaper was covering.

She hadn't told Conrad, but it was a side piece Ada had taken on once she heard it would be in London. She was putting her current piece—an article on the lasting repercussions the U.S. would likely face from the Vietnam War—on hold in order to cover this one. It would mean a lot of catching up and tight deadlines once they got back to New York, but she felt it was worth it to do this for him, and to be here with him.

They agreed that she would be too busy today, but tomorrow evening she could skip one of the afternoon lectures to visit with his mother.

"And in the evening," Conrad had said as he held Ada from behind while she held her second cup of coffee. "You're all mine. Dinner, a walk perhaps, to settle ourselves. Then I say we break in the new room."

That new room was still in the works, but Ada had plans to call Jerry the moment it turned an acceptable time in New York.

"Hmm, I like this plan. Very efficient, and guaranteed sexy times free of charge." Ada smiled into her mug, taking a sip. "I should take you on all my business trips."

"As I cannot take you on mine, I think it's only fair," he said, and started pressing soft, tempting kisses along her neck. She sighed into him, knowing this was a bad idea. He was going to make her late for the first session. The entire event was being held in another hotel. Leave it to Jerry to pick the crummy one across the street instead of booking the more convenient hotel, the site of the actual conference.

"I have to get checked into the conference." Smiling, she tried to stretch of his embrace, but Conrad held firm. He peeled back some of her blouse's collar to continue his exploration, nipping lightly at her throat and enjoying her pleased squeal when he did. Her breathy sighs in his ear were doing nothing for his rather poor self-control at the moment.

"I'm gunna miss the opening talk!" she protested. Her attempts to be firm lost their effect some when she kept giggling. Conrad took the mug out of her hand and set it on the small table tucked against the wall, so he could more easily slip a hand under the hem of her blouse. Her hands were just as complicit, one winding its way up to the back of his head, while the other soothed across his forearm holding her in place.

"No one goes to the introductions, do they?" he said into her now flushed skin.

She nodded with a breathy laugh. "Uh, yeah. They really do."

Well, there was that then. He had to remind himself that he didn't come here to distract her from work. Just when Conrad was about to relent with one last kiss, Ada turned in his arms and started unbuttoning his shirt with nimble fingers. She smirked up into his delightedly surprised face.

"It's just a bunch of self-congratulating academics blathering on about whose panel is going to be the least boring," she said. Never mind the fact that she was genuinely looking forward to some of the sessions. "The first real lecture I'm going to doesn't start until 8:30."

Conrad whipped her blouse out of her skirt and aimed to free its delicate buttons in record time. "Gives us twenty minutes."

"Twenty-five if I jog to the hotel," Ada countered, while she pushed his shirt off his shoulders. His pants were next in her sights.

Conrad looked down at her shoes doubtfully. "In those heels?"

Ada grinned. "I've got backup flats."

She aimed to shuck off the black leather heels, but Conrad suddenly gripped her hips, staying her movements. His blue eyes were dark and intense with desire.

"Keep them on," he said. The depths in his voice traveled straight between her legs, making her flush pleasantly. Her lips slowly formed a smirk, and let her hands caress his body downwards.

"You got it, Captain."