Forward march! Two chapters tonight...and the reviews are so lovely - I really enjoy and appreciate the feedback.

isismak - I'm glad you're enjoying it so much! I hope you continue to find these chapters just as wonderful.

Eggwhisker - Thank you! I wanted to play with the evolution of what a relationship with him might be like without bogging the story down in too much everyday life tedium.

Nietzsche - Welcome back! And yes - there are so many nods to literature for Lucas in the show, it was a natural fit. Dusty Springfield's "Son Of A Preacher Man" helped bring that scene to life ("the only boy who could ever teach me was the son of a preacher man"). Have to say, I certainly wouldn't mind him teaching me a thing or two about literature...

Chapter Notes:
Bold Italics text = memory
Bold text = text from Celia
Italics text = texts from Lucas

Rating M: Language, Sexual situations

Chapter 6: Love Cancellation

5 months

1:34 am.

She rolled over, huffing against the cool material of her pillowcase. Her eyes looked to the empty pillow beside her before she forced them closed.

"Oh, Lucas…." A tear fell down her cheek as he pushed into her in a perfect, slow slide. His breath caught in his throat as he kissed her tear away, holding her hand tighter, squeezing their interlaced fingers.

Her heart ached at the memory. It just wasn't right when he wasn't at her place…or when she wasn't at his place. And tonight, he was missing. That was probably why she couldn't sleep. As much as she craved to just have him beside her, to hear his breathing and soothe his probable nightmare, she also knew that she probably shouldn't. She always prided herself on her independence – a woman engineer who possessed all the confidence her position demanded. Yet here she was, head over heels for this man, wanting nothing more than to hide away from the world in his arms every night. But maybe that was the difference – she wanted him; she didn't need him.

How she longed to tell him just that. That she wanted to come home to him every night, to have him always in her life. That she loved him. She sighed against the pillow, snuggling closer in the sheet and thermal blanket, imagining he was beside her.

She rolled back over, adjusting the pillow before letting her head drop back to rest and her eyes graze the clock.

1:48 am. Would this night ever end?

The moonlight was brilliant through the faraway panel of his skylight. It drowned out the surrounding starlight, but he didn't really care. Sleep wasn't easy for him to come by, anyway. A nagging sensation in the pit of his stomach forced him to admit the truth hidden in that lie. He blew a slow sigh through his nose as he shifted his legs against the deep blue sheets, bringing his right arm to fold underneath the pillow, supporting his head as he gazed at the ceiling.

It was indeed easier to sleep with Celia close than when he was alone. The stiffness in his chest always abated in her presence, and he found himself genuinely able to relax, to let his defenses down. It had been many years, nearly a decade, since he could indulge that luxury. And he found it—and her—addicting.

2:01 am.

This night was wasted. He was just lying there, waiting for his alarm, the dawn, going to work and finding Celia. When they were together, he often found himself too content to ever want the dawn to come. He snapped his eyes closed, suddenly all too familiar with the longing that consumed him. He loved her. Somehow, somewhere, he'd let himself fall for her. And the longer he laid there, and the more he dwelled on the realization, he knew he couldn't bring himself to regret it. His time with Elizabeta had passed, and this was where he found himself. And in his line of work, who could really say how long he would be here. Was there anything to lose? Or just everything to gain?

A flash of light from his phone lit the room for an instant before plunging it right back into darkness. He reached for it on instinct because his work never stopped, really. A lazy smile grew as he saw the contact name.

You're probably asleep, but I can't stop thinking about you

Not asleep. Thinking of you, too

Penny for your thoughts?

Was there any reason he shouldn't be honest?

I love you

Tears welled in her eyes as she read the message, suddenly wanting nothing more than to drive over and fall into his arms. She beamed at her phone, the overwhelming happiness consuming her.

I love you, too. Too late for me to come over?

A sleepy half grin graced his face. Maybe if it were midnight he'd send a different response.

Yes. Let's try for tonight

I'll be waiting. Love you

Love you too

Her head sunk further into the pillow, finding peace finally settle over her mind.

All it took was three little words…who knew.

xxx

6.5 months

They had agreed not to spend Friday night together. It would only add to the anticipation of their first weekend trip together. She was embarrassed to admit how giddy she was about it. It was so normal, so traditional. A romantic getaway – and one that he had planned, no less. She hadn't been able to stop smiling about it for days and Vicky had been equally unable to hide her disgust.

Of course, with only having approximately 30 hours to be away, they weren't doing anything extravagant. But they had found this cute, little place in the countryside just a couple hours' drive outside of London. It would be just the two of them, away from the pressures and norms of everyday life. The idea was heavenly.

When he showed up at 8:59 am, she wasn't sure what she had expected – him driving a car and a couple hours' drive together was about it, though. But she opened her door to see him standing there with a sleek helmet and gorgeous leather jacket, all for her, and she couldn't believe it. She had inelegantly stumbled around words, embarrassed to accept his gifts. But he quickly explained that they weren't gifts, but necessities. That's when she caught a glance over his shoulder at the sporty, striking bike parked at the kerb.

No wonder he had told her to pack light.

"You're not going to change your mind, are you?" There was something daring, almost challenging on his voice. It was matched by the slight twitch of his lips and the spark in his eyes.

"No…not at all," she felt her cheeks flush in continued embarrassment, "you know I don't have experience with motorbikes."

"Well, fortunately for us, I have a thing for bikes. And you're not driving."

She couldn't help but smile back at him, shaking her head. Somehow, it just fit for her rural, literature lover to harbor such a passion. It was like catching a glimpse of what remained of the teenage boy within him that refused to grow up. And just when she was wondering how much more she could really love him.

She slipped into the jacket as he carried her bag out, not surprised that it fit like a glove. And the leather was so buttery smooth. It was lightly padded, but still flattered her figure. She glanced to him, pulling the zipper up on her jacket, watching him adjust the storage compartment on the bike. It should be a crime for him to look so good – fitted, dark wash jeans and an equally well-fitting leather jacket did wonderful things for his lean body. He was already sporting a touch of helmet hair, with some of the ends tufted in loose, wild strands, but it only made her want to run her fingers through it and snog him senseless. Soon enough.

Hefting her helmet in hand, she locked the door behind her.

"Not much fun to be had riding in the city," he started as she approached, "but once we're out in the country, you'll see." Excitement and anticipation laced his words though he was too well practiced at keeping himself guarded to let it otherwise show. Maybe someday she would get to see a full, eye-wrinkling smile from him, and hear full-out passion in his voice.

"Will I?" She teased back, already finding it a little warm in the heavy leather jacket. "What do I need to do."

"To start, helmet on," he reached for his, "then, hold on."

"To you?"

"You won't find another option." She met his wicked little smirk. "You'll feel me lean into the turns. Just follow my lead until you get the feel of it."

"You're confident that I will?"

"You will." They slid into their helmets and he swung a leg over the bike. With a surprisingly nervous breath, she climbed on behind him, situating her feet. The bike fired under his touch, the engine humming with power and promise. In a gentle motion, he eased away from the kerb, her hands in a loose hold on his waist as they snaked through city streets.

True enough, she started to pick up the rhythm of his movements. Of leaning into the curves, of balancing when the bike was gliding to a stop. Gradually they worked their way, with traffic blissfully light, until the city faded away and the colors of summer in the country gleamed in the morning sun.

That's when he brings the bike to life.

She feels the acceleration glide through her as he lets go on the throttle and the bike sings, gaining in speed on the open road. The smile that overtakes her face under the helmet is brilliant. She doesn't know how fast they're going and she doesn't care. The feeling is incredible. It's so smooth – she'd almost swear she's flying.

He handles the bike like an extension of hid body as he shifts and propels them forward. It's so fluid, effortless. The road is just curvy enough and she leans with him into and out of the turns, the rush of adrenaline powerful and potent as she clings tight to him. He wasn't kidding when he said he had a thing for bikes. This is what freedom, abandonment felt like. She knew there had to be something for him. Something for him to let loose, to let go the stress of everything. And boy, oh boy, did he do it well. The rush heats her blood, arousing and intoxicating. It awakens something so physical within her, her mind fading to the background and existing just in the flow.

Disappointment was inevitable as he rounded the last bend through the trees and eased the bike to a slower speed on approach to the small town. She didn't even realize she was breathing so hard, her eyes blown wide from the ride. All too soon, they came to a stop at the little inn. On shaky legs, she climbed off, shrugging off her helmet as she watched him do the same. His hair was slightly damp at the edges, matted and mussed, while his eyes blazed bright with exhilaration and heat. It was a delicious look on him. His whole persona seemed lighter as they took their bags form the bike's compartment and headed inside. She wouldn't dare say carefree because he simply carried too much history, but she had never seen him so loose. Especially in public.

"Good morning, dears." A kindly lady with salt and pepper hair, glasses perched low on her nose smiled as they approached.

"Good morning," he said, his voice unusually pleasant, "we're checking in. Last name North. Lucas and Celia." She couldn't keep her smile from widening.

"Ah yes, Mr. and Mrs. North, welcome." She smiled warmly, checking the name off her reservation book. "I have you in our east terrace room. It's right off the kitchen garden. The afternoon breeze picks up the smell of lavender and rosemary, and it's just lovely with the windows open."

"It sounds wonderful," Celia turned to him with a smile, "we'll have to do that. Thank you."

They finished up with the lady at the desk and walked up the gently creaking flight of stairs. There were only two rooms down this hallway – one on each side – and opened the door to the room in the east. The room was, indeed, quite lovely and the windows were already open, bringing the in the seasonal warmth. She closed the door behind them, standing against it, just watching him as he stopped at the foot of the bed, turning back towards her. Heat and want still coursed through her, high on the release of endorphins from the ride.

"Mr. & Mrs. North, huh?" She searched his face for any kind of guilt or embarrassment, not entirely surprised that she didn't find any.

"Less crossed-eyed looks from judgmental, conservative locals."

"Heaven forbid an unmarried woman spend the night with an unmarried man...how scandalous." A naughty smile teased her lips. "You can ask me again, now. If you like. I want to revise my answer." A confused curiosity sparked in his eyes. "Cars or motorbikes." She heard his amused chuckle as he set their bags on the bench at the end of the bed.

"Alright. Cars or motorbikes?"

"110% motorbikes," she gushed, "that ride was such a rush. How long has it been since you last rode?"

"God, too long…Ten, probably closer to fifteen years." Her brow furrowed on his words.

"That long? I assumed you would have last ridden closer to just before you were detained." He shook his head, unzipping his jacket a little, revealing a black v neck t-shirt beneath.

"No, my ex-wife never knew. It wasn't something she would have been agreeable with." She cocked her head on his words, a question forming on the tip of her tongue. She wasn't sure if she should ask it, though. "You look like you want to ask a question." She pursed her lips, trying to hide a guilty smile.

"Yes, but I don't…don't want to seem accusing." A serious curiosity tightened the line of his jaw as he tilted his head forward in interest.

"Well, now you have to ask." She shifted against the door, loosing a breath.

"Well, I hear things like that and have to wonder…did your ex-wife really know you at all?" She licked her lips, trying not to regret asking. A flash of distant sadness – maybe regret – passed over his face, but was gone just a quick.

"There was a lot about me that she didn't know. There was so much I wasn't allowed to tell her that it became easier to just not tell her anything. Unlike, with you…from day one, there's been nothing to hide. And that's almost worse in it's own way, but here we are."

"Here we are." She echoed quietly, a soft smile on her face. "Come here." He crossed the room in a few easy steps, stopping in front of her as she reached for his jacket. He fell easily into her, bending to meet her lips as she tipped her head up. The latent heat from the ride flared to life at his touch, her body buzzing. Her fingers toyed with his jacket zipper, easing it down and dancing back up the front of his chest. He groaned low as her tongue teased the line of his lips, delving in to taste. He leaned forward, connecting their hips as her arms snaked around his torso under his jacket. She moaned, high pitched and breathy, at the contact, his arousal heavy against her thigh.

"Do you know what that ride did to me…" She breathed the words against his earlobe, teasing it between her teeth. "You were so…in control, so powerful…." He chuckled deep in his throat, sliding a thigh between her legs.

"And you liked that?" He trailed his nose along her racing pulse, his breath hot against her skin. "Would you like me to play you like that? To work through every sweet spot on your body, pushing you to your senseless limits until you're screaming release at my touch deep inside you?" She slammed her lips into his, rutting against him, pulling at his shirt to get him closer.

"Oh fuck, yes." She spoke the words into his mouth, tearing a growl from him as she reached up under the hem of his shirt, raking her nails up his back.

"Later," he ground out, "I need to be inside you. Now."

xxx

7 months

He still hadn't told her when his birthday was. She had asked on several occasions and he never really said why he wouldn't tell her. Maybe it held bad memories? Maybe it was classified?

"Well, then I'll just have to guess. How about this coming Friday – dinner at my place? I'll cook something nice."

"Celia…," he had actually seemed a little flustered by her insistence, "you really don't have to. It doesn't—."

"Shh, Lucas. Just, please let me do something nice for you."

She'd been to the market last night right after work and spent the rest of the night in the kitchen. Everything was washed, chopped and prepared. She hadn't told him what was on the menu but filet mignon with red wine mushroom sauce, risotto and asparagus should go over well. It was already mid-afternoon and she was excited for the day to end.

"Oh, that's bloody perfect." Vicky's voice didn't support the sentiment, even with a mouthful of ramen noodles. "I just got my quarterly training registration and it's the same day as my design review meeting."

"Oh no, that would be a nightmare to reschedule." Celia agreed, looking over the cubicle wall. "Can you shift your training – when do your qualifications expire?" Vicky slurped the tail end of a noodle, leaning back in her chair.

"Two weeks, I think. Not entirely sure." Celia chuckled softly, noticing the flashing notification light on her phone.

"You might want to check that – otherwise, with expired qualifications, your design review meeting won't happen anyway."

"Maybe I'll just not renew them at all…just let my quals expire and see how long it takes for someone to notice."

"Careful over there, rebel. You might just start a trend." They shared an amused smile as Celia reached for her phone. Her smile widened at the contact name, but her heart sank as she read the text.

Not tonight. Make it up to you

She sighed in disappointment, typing out a response. Sure, it wasn't the first time he had canceled on her, but tonight…with the dinner they had talked about. This one hurt.

No need. Just save the world and come back to me

"Oh no," Vicky's voice, distorted around another mouthful of ramen drew her attention back, "something's wrong. You've got that look and you're staring at your phone…"

"Yeah, it's just…" Celia shook her head absently. "I was planning to make this really nice dinner and—"

"Did your bloke ditch you again?" Vicky's eyes widened in offense as she wasted no time in trying to confirm her suspicions.

"It's his work, he…he gets wrapped up in these intense negotiations and there's no telling how long it'll take to end."

"You're still sure he's worth it?" Vicky asked with a raised brow and an edge of concern in her voice. "He bails on you so often…it doesn't seem right. Or good for you. Or fair."

"He's just committed to his job. It has nothing to do with me personally."

"And you're sure of that?"

"Vicky, please; he's not bailing on me for another woman." He couldn't be. "He told me right at the start what getting involved with him would mean – there are just days and times where he can't get away. I mean, just think," she looked to the ceiling with a quick shake of her head, trying to come up with something, "you…you wouldn't want the financial stability of our country and investment future to be threatened because he refuses to break a dinner engagement with me, right?" Vicky shook her head with something of an annoyed skepticism.

"Is he really so important? Come one…how can one man be so central to the greater financial good that keeping a simple dinner date would cause such a collapse? Have they never heard of a single point vulnerability before? What if – and God forbid – your bloke was hit by a truck?" Vicky stuffed a mouthful of pasta in her mouth, garbling her words. "Would it be a mad dash to the bank for my pathetic life's savings?"

"I don't know…," Celia could only offer a weak shake of her head and a small, uncertain smile, "he probably couldn't even tell me if I asked. I don't know a lot of details about what he does. Just that it's demanding and can be quite cutthroat." If only she could tell Vicky – or anyone, really – just how dangerous his daily job was. She was getting more accustomed to him breaking off their plans, but she still couldn't quash the worry that threatened to overtake her when there was silence for more than 24 hours. She couldn't deny that it hurt, and the more she loved him, the more real the fear that on any given day she could never see him again. Vicky shook her head, seemingly disgusted.

"Men and their secrets. All I'm saying is, you should have a bloke who puts your first – don't you deserve it? He better be worth it – for the suffering, or sadness, or whatever it is that's all over your face right now." At least she could give a voice to that feeling, a raw smile growing on her face.

"Yeah…to me, he's absolutely worth it."