Disclaimer: I don't own anything, it all belongs to people far richer than me.
Indelible
By
Silksteel
She hadn't meant to cry, it just sort of happened. Doyle gave her time and space, neither of which she'd managed in the panic of the last few hours, from discovering her parents were dead or Infected, to losing Andy and finding him again, and the heart-stopping moment when he'd wrenched free of her grip and dashed across the road, pursued by sniper fire. Through it all she'd pressed on, hoping that pure adrenaline would carry her – and so it had, until an innocent answer from the sergeant.
Doyle opened his arms to her, the rifle set aside at last, and she sank gratefully into a stranger's embrace. He held her there in the silence, stroking her hair as her body shook violently with the sorrow she couldn't show her brother who relied on her to be strong. Tammy wouldn't trade for anything, and nor would she forsake that duty she'd taken on out of love for her sibling, but it was relief not to hold up the same barriers here.
'I'm sorry,' she mumbled eventually into his throat where chance had dictated she bury her face. He smelled like November bonfires, cold air and the musky tang of sweat, and Tammy breathed him in deeply. She couldn't tell whether they'd been sitting there for minutes or hours.
'You needed it,' Doyle replied simply, brushing back damp strands of hair from her face, his fingers rough with calluses from hard work. He smiled, cupped her chin between strong hands. 'Better now?'
She couldn't tell what colour his eyes were in the dim light, but they radiated warmth, reflecting what sort of man he might have been if this war had never happened, if he'd never been drafted in to face all of this. Tammy held onto that gaze like a safety line as she plunged head first into an uncertain future, and closed her eyes as her lips met his.
It lasted for a moment that was endless. From shocked immobility she galvanised the sergeant into meeting her at equal intensity; there was an edge of desperation to their kiss, as they both sought a resolution neither could offer. Doyle opened to her, allowing her far more than she guessed he might, under the circumstances, and she kissed him deeply, trying to find the deepest centre of him and hide herself away there.
'Tammy –' he protested at last, breaking away to look at her properly, but she shook her head, taking the opportunity to climb fully into his lap and prevent him from rising.
'Please,' she whispered in return, placing fevered kisses along the line of his jaw, his throat, as her fingers worked at the straps of his bullet proof vest. 'Let me have this.' For whatever his protest – her age, her innocence – or what remained of it – the fact that they were strangers...she was sure she didn't want to hear it. All they had was here and now, and Tammy couldn't bear the thought of wasting even a moment when she might not get another.
Doyle didn't speak again, complying with her bold moves in a dazed sort of way, allowing her to remove his flak jacket and shirt without protest. The only sign of his thoughts was the hitch in his breathing, and his apparent refusal to relinquish his hold on her, both of those capable hands wrapped around her waist. Tammy crowded in close to him, dipping her head to close her mouth over his skin, tasting salty sweetness as she felt him finally reach for the hem of her t-shirt.
It wasn't giving in. They both needed this.