Title: Alcohol

Ship: Guzman/Mira

Genre: Drama/Angst

Rated: PG

Word Count: 850

Summary: Even at the bottom of a bottle, he can't escape her.

A/N: Written for Guzman/Mira –Alcohol by morganel for 'Friday One Word Fic Challenge' –Week 6

As always many thanks to crystalkei for the beta and for telling me it doesn't suck, if it does look her way.

… … …

He sits in a corner dark corner of Tom Boylan's bar, a bottle of an amber liquid half empty in front of him, around him there is a dull buzz of people –mostly soldiers- coming and going, laughter and conversation mixing together, all white noise to him. The day's been long, with the 10th pilgrimage arrival the previous day, the growing settlement has been louder and more chaotic than usual, add to that their visitors at the gates…

He pours himself another drink, the wooden cup tight in his hand, if it had been one of the few glass tumblers Taylor kept in his private quarters for times when he shared with his closest lieutenants it'd crack under his grip. He closes his eyes as the bitter liquid burns down his throat and as he does he sees her, standing tall, rifle in hand, her gaze hard as she looked at his Commander. He like the rest had pointed their guns at her and her people, if his was slightly lowered no one mentioned it.

He scowls to himself, no one had mentioned a thing and maybe no one had even noticed but he had and he knew she had too, his hesitation even now, even after years of being apart, years where she has set out to sabotage what he's sworn to protect. He could still see her dark brown eyes flicker over him as Taylor ordered him to give her what she wanted, no more than a moment had their glaze held before he stomped away like some child and not like the leader of men he was. Years later the woman still managed to get a rise out of him.

He tells himself stop, to not let the memories in, but when has his mind ever listened to him when it came to Mira? Like an ancient film reel addled by the large amounts of alcohol he's already consumed he pictures her the way she was years ago when she first arrived. Stunning beauty with dark skin that shimmered in this bright world's sun, with sharp almond shaped eyes and a smile that always grew slowly. He'd been taken by her from the moment he laid eyes on her and at the time he thought she'd been taken with him, it hadn't been long before he'd spent his every free moment with her, inviting her into his life and his daughter's like a lovesick fool.

He feels his skin burn and he knows it's not a flush from the drink in his hand but from the anger and humiliation that still years later courses through him. He tries to close off his mind to this line of thought, it never leads him anywhere anyway, hours, days, months, years he has spent wondering how he didn't see it, how she fooled him, how he allowed himself to love her so completely and not see her motives.

He's pulled mercifully from his thoughts as someone sits across from him, he's not surprised to see that it's Nathaniel, only he would dare to approach him in the foul mood he's in and only he knows that he would find him in this mood and why. He doesn't say anything to the older man, his leader, his friend, his brother and just watches as he pours himself a drink, the hint of a smirk making its way to his face as the man frowns at the taste and shakes his head at him.

"What the hell did Boylan make this with?" He makes another face pushing the drink away. "It's enough to burn a hole through someone's stomach."

The older man isn't wrong; it's one of the barkeeps special bottles, reserved for him and him alone, probably meant to erode important organs, not that it's taken care of the traitorous one that still insists on keeping that woman stuck there between the beats.

"How long is this going to go on for, Guz?" Taylor questions him.

"Always," he murmurs roughly, hating the truth behind the simple word, he's always going to love her; he's always going to hate her. He looks away from the sympathy he sees in the other man's eyes, it's too close to pity and it leaves a sour taste in his mouth that has nothing to do with the drinks he's had.

"Send me out," he requests and has to bite the inside of his cheek, it sounds like pleading even to his own ears.

"How far, Lieutenant?" Taylor asks, his tone serious but also lined with understanding.

"Far as I can go, sir," he answers letting out a breath of relief as the man nods and stands, ready to take his leave.

"I'll see to it," Taylor pauses and his tone changes once more to his friend, he wishes he'd stay in his role of leader at the moment. "You won't escape her out there, Guzman."

He doesn't reply to the comment and just takes another swing of the drink in his hand as Taylor leaves.

No, he can't escape her, not out there, not anywhere.