Disclaimer: Priest and its characters belong to Scott Stewart.

Claimer: I own Tessa.

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Chapter #3: Tranquility

The day had been introduced by another dreary morning, and she had taken to it with a little less grace than she would have liked. Her morning had started out with a delayed alarm, which had left her scrambling to get ready for her shift, feeling much like a beheaded chicken as she bolted around her apartment. In her rush, she had forgotten the laws of physics, and gravity betrayed her when she slipped and took a tumble while exiting her shower. Now sporting a fare-sized bruise on her thigh, she quickly locked her door behind her and ran to the elevator to see the heavy metal doors drawing to a close.

"Hold the door!" she called hastily. Just as the doors were sliding shut, a hand shot in at the last second, triggering the motion sensors to reopen. She quickly entered the elevator, glancing at the man nearest her with a small smile. "Thank you." But he just shook his head and pointed to someone behind her. Blinking, she turned curiously, and a bright smile instantly stamped itself on her face when she saw it was him. "Hey, neighbor," she greeted cheerfully.

He nodded to her in response, and although the look the other man was sending them appeared to go unnoticed by Tessa, it didn't go unseen by him. She walked over to stand as his side without hesitation, a warm, welcoming smile adorning her features. When the elevator came to a stop two floors down, the man exited, but not without sending one last nosy, vaguely skeptical glance back at them as he left.

"Really, they should just start taking pictures."

His head turned down to her at her dry tone to see she was shaking her head towards the door.

"I mean, really, is it that fascinating?"

He stared at her. "Where are you heading off to?"

She looked at him. "I have a 7-5 shift at the hospital. You?"

"Heading to confession."

"Ah."

He glanced at her. If he didn't know better, he might have guessed she sounded distantly scornful. "…What?"

"…What?"

He eyed her for a moment, but then shook his head, deciding it was all in his mind. "Nothing."

They exited the elevator together once it hit the bottom floor, and she offered him one last delicate wave and smile before parting her own way. It wasn't until later that night that she returned to the apartment complex. Her manager had requested she stay for an extra two hours to fill in a shift, and, not in any financial position to say no, had accepted. In result, however, a thirteen hour day had left her completely drained. It took all she had not to drag her feet in an ungodly fashion as she trudged to her apartment and unlocked the door with a weary sigh. When she entered, though, she was greeted by an unexpected surprise. Leaning down, she picked up a small paper off her floor.

I believe my rosary is in your apartment. Would you mind looking?

–J

J. What did the J stand for? His real name, perhaps? It was a little surprising to her he would sign that way, but a smile was forming on her lips before she knew it, and despite how tired she was she got right to doing as he asked. The apartment was small, and it didn't take her long to find it. It must have fallen from his pocket or something, and it had found its way under her bed. Carrying it next door, she gave a quiet knock. When the door opened, she presented it to him with a sunlit smile, and when he saw it he took it from her thankfully.

"Thank you."

She nodded. "I'm a little shocked you didn't notice you'd lost it right away."

"You disturb my focus."

A slight tone in his voice told her he was joking, and before she could stop herself a sly smirk was forming on her lips. "Do I distract you, Priest?"

"You're partially the reason I go to confession."

A quiet chuckle escaped her at his answer. "You're cute."

The look he gave her was priceless. Still shaking her head, she smiled at him before giving his chin a gentle nick. "See you later, hun."

Personal hygiene was another difficult task to keep up with in the cities with all the ash and moisture constantly collecting on every surface it could get its clammy hands on. A weary sigh escaped her lips as she stepped into the shower, savoring the sensation of the warm water running down her body in tiny beads. She had to admit, though, that if there really was anything she had come to love about the cities it was that they had running showers, and she wasn't the only one taking advantage.

He released an inward sigh as he felt the water trickling down his scarred back, eyes closed as the warm water ran over his head and streamed down his face, soothing the sore muscles and bruises blotching his flesh. It was the closest thing to peace he could get unless he was with her. The woman was infectious. Nearly his every thought consisted of her, and if he was thinking of something else she would always find a way to worm herself in without him realizing it. Yet he found he wasn't bothered by the fact she relentlessly intruded into his mind. If anything, it was the one thing that kept him from slipping back into the eternal darkness he had resided in before he had met her. It was almost surreal how he felt whenever he was around her. For so long he had been left with an infinite emptiness and longing that had been slowly eating away at his weary soul since before he could remember. He had been denied what he had always wanted for so long, and he would continue to be denied it for as long as he lived. It hadn't been until the night he had met her, however, did he truly realize just how much he yearned for someone to recognize his ache—for an angel to rescue him from his own darkness—a darkness he was unable to control, as it nearly consumed him whole every day.

Tessa stepped out of the elevator and began her trek through the city's night streets. As tired as she was, she felt restless, and so she had decided to go for a walk. The streets looked like they were cloaked by the night during the day as it was, but at night they seemed to grow impossibly darker. The only hope for light was from the blaring screens and the synthetic glow of the streetlamps, but even that light was dim and fogged over by the moisture stilling in the air. Not a day went by that she didn't miss her real home, but she had come here for a reason, and if she was any kind of lucky the war would end before she died. Turning a corner, she took a shortcut through an ally between two buildings, and that was about the worst mistake she could have made.

"Well, well, well. Look what we have here."

Freezing, her body made a creeping turn, eyes squinting into the darkness in attempt to get a look at the owner of the voice. Instant distaste washed over her when she laid eyes on the stranger. He held a bottle in one hand, concealed by a brown paper bag. His grin was crooked as he stepped closer to her, and instinctively she put up a guard.

"Stay the hell away from me," she growled warningly.

He reached for her. She felt his rough, calloused palms on her cheek, and the reek of alcohol mixed with gasoline invaded her nostrils with a harsh burn. It was nauseating. Face setting into a snarl, without any warning at all she grabbed his head in both hands and smashed his skull against her knee before sending her fist into his groin. He stumbled, dropping his bottle. It smashed on the pavement, shattering at his feet as the remaining contents painted the cement. She instantly turned to run, but she was abruptly taken off guard when she felt herself being grabbed by rough hands. Her immediate reaction was to throw her elbow back at the second assaulter, but a third pair of hands joined in, and the next thing she knew she was being shoved face-first into a brick wall. Her foot flew up behind her, but her attackers were ready for that as well, because her aim was blocked by someone's knee, and she let out a short cry of pain when said knee collided into her spine. Her panic only rose when she heard someone fumbling with their belt.

"GET OFF ME!" she yelled. She thrashed, but one of them had a firm hold on her neck that kept her from gaining any leverage, two more hands holding her wrists tightly behind her back. What they hadn't thought of was to smother her, and she released a scream for help. "HELP! SOMEONE HELP ME! OVER HERE!"

"Shut up!" a cruel, male voice snarled, and her face was shoved against the wall, squishing her cheek against the rough brick. She winced when she felt her skin being scraped. "You think someone's gonna come running to your rescue? Think again, sweetheart. No one's gonna hear you over those damn screens. God ain't with you, bitch."

"I know a priest!" she shouted.

"Pfft, a Priest? They're nothing more but ghosts in the cities. I'm not afraid of those holy lapdogs."

"You will be before the night is over. Get off her."

His voice was the only thing she processed before she felt the men being yanked off her. A sense of overpowering relief washed over as she snapped her head up just in time to see him throw one of the men down, and she stumbled clumsily to the ground when the restraining hands abruptly left her body. Breathing a little quickened, she looked up as she tried to slow her rapidly beating heart. He and the other three men were exchanging blows, none of them coming remotely close to hitting the priest. His skill was far beyond theirs, and within seconds he had them all crippled and groaning on the ground after an impressive display of maneuvers. His lips were pulled back to expose an angered snarl, and at that moment he looked nothing like the man she knew, yet she felt nothing but assurance. Then suddenly, a small army of armed patrollers were flooding into the ally, and their guns instantly aimed at the priest, whose head had snapped up in alert at hearing their footsteps.

"NO!" Before she could think about the possible consequences of her actions, she was leaping up and throwing herself in front of him as a shield. "Don't shoot! He was helping me!" She pointed towards the beaten men on the ground. "Those scumbags tried raping me!"

The guards looked towards the men on the ground. To her relief they seemed to believe her, because they turned their attentions to them. One of the guards broke away from the group and approached her.

"Are you alright, ma'am? Do you need to be taken to a hospital?"

"No. That won't be necessary."

She watched as the men were roughly yanked up by the scruffs of their shirts and shoved off by the officers. The men fought and argued, claiming she was a liar, but their words fell on deaf ears. The stench of alcohol on their breaths and clothes was proof enough. All the evidence pointed to them. Once they were gone, she turned to face her rescuer, and before he could say anything she was throwing her arms around his neck in a tight embrace. He surprised her when held her back gently.

"Are you alright?" he asked gravely, in his deep, gravelly voice.

She pulled away while nodding. He stared down at her with critical eyes, scanning over her frame for any visibly injuries or blood stains. He seemed to hesitate a moment, but then slowly reached forwards towards her face. She blinked when she felt his fingers lightly brush against her cheek, and her eyes shifted up to meet his to see he had a genuine look of concern on his face. She felt his thumb lightly stroke a small cut on her cheek, a frown tugging at the corners of his mouth. His deep auburn eyes dissected her face with extreme care, and she felt something shatter within her at how worried he seemed to be about her. It was at that moment, however, that she thought of how convenient it was he had been there at the perfect time. What were the chances they happened to be in the same place at the same time, when they worked nowhere near each other, and he had been in his apartment when she had left? She stared at him long and hard for a moment, knowing the answer before she even voiced the question.

"Have you been following me?" she asked.

His eyes darted to hers sharply, flickering about her face. His silence was her answer.

"So it wasn't in my head when I felt eyes on me…"

"I'm sorry…"

The surprise in her eyes morphed into incredulity. "You're apologizing for protecting me? Really, Priest?" She was shaking her head, a gentle smile pulling at her lips.

He seemed hesitant, but then the tiniest of smiles made it to his face in return, just barely tugging at the corners of his lips. Her eyes were soft and, dare he say, fond?

"Take me home," she said softly.

He walked with her back to the apartments, but when she went to enter her apartment he surprised her when he followed her inside. She decided not to question it. In all truth, she was grateful for the company, her previous tiredness forgotten. What surprised her farther, though, was when he pointed to her bed and told her to sit. Slowly, she did as he said, watching as he disappeared into the bathroom. When she saw him walk back out with her first aid kit, she couldn't help but smile as he pulled a chair over and sat down in front of her. She allowed him to tend to the small scrapes she had obtained from being shoved against the rough brick wall, and despite the slight sting of the antiseptic she felt herself smiling as a soft giggle escaped her, and he glanced up at her with a frown.

"What?"

"It's just you don't have a single scratch on you from the fight, and I look like I just crawled out of a vamp hive," she said amusedly.

It took him a moment, but then he smiled faintly, causing hers to grow a fraction. He loved the way she looked at him. Every time she saw him, her face lit up like the sun. He didn't understand it for the life of him, but he cherished it. Around her, he felt appreciated, recognized, a little less empty, and, most of all, wanted. For the next few minutes he treated her wounds, and she felt her heart warming as he handled her as if she would break.

"Can I say something?" she asked.

Blinking, he stared at her. "I guess."

"If you were available… I'd make you mine in a heartbeat."

He froze, hand still hovering over her cheek with a swab. He stared at her, blank disbelief crossing his features. He almost asked her to repeat herself, positive he had heard her wrong, but when he saw her gentle smile he knew that wasn't the case. Before he could ponder on it long, she released a leisurely sigh and fell back onto the bed.

"Today just won't end, will it?" she muttered.

"…Sorry. I should get going—"

"What? No, it's fine. I was just commenting on the fact I haven't stopped moving since I woke up this morning. Started the day off waking up late. In my rush, I tripped on my comforter and fell flat on my face, fell again in the shower, and that was followed by a grueling shift at the hospital… and then I'm jumped by a group of horny hillbillies." Lifting her head off the bed, she sent him a wry smile. "But on the bright side my knight in shining armor saved the day."

His lips twitched.

"But enough about me. What did your day consist of? What does a Priest do when he's not on the frontlines?"

"Went to confession today. That's about it… and beat up a few horny hillbillies."

She grinned at his attempt at humor. "Confession, huh? Pray tell, what could someone like you possibly have to confess?"

"Just because I'm a priest doesn't mean I'm flawless in God's eyes."

"Fair enough." Sitting up, she scooted back on the bed, folding her legs underneath her. "So do you feel better?"

His eyebrows drew together a bit. "What do you mean?"

"Confession is supposed to make you feel clean or whatnot, right? It's supposed to be a reassuring experience."

His eyes appeared knowing as he set her with an attentive stare. "You don't go to confession, do you?" It wasn't a question.

"It's not really my thing, no."

"Be careful. The cities aren't like the towns."

She let out a small scoff. "Yeah, I've noticed." Leaning forward, she eyed him carefully. "You know what I don't like about the cities? Religion is mandatory. If you don't follow the rules of the Church, go to confession, and pray until you don't even know what you're praying for anymore, you're considered a heathen. Tell me, did you go to confession today because you felt you needed to, or because you know it's expected of you?"

"Where is this coming from?" He was frowning at her a bit, eyebrows having drawn together.

"I can see it in your eyes. You're not satisfied. You went to confession, but it didn't do a damn thing for you. Not really." Her head tilted to the side. "Let me guess… 'tell me more'… 'tell me more'… 'the Devil comes in many forms'… blah, blah, blah." When he was silent, she leaned in a little more. "I bet they say that to you every time, don't they? Cuz it's all I ever hear. Repent for your sins, pray for forgiveness, go to church, go to church, go to church… to go against the Church is to go against God. It's all I ever hear around here! Honestly, since when did religion and loving God become a commercial sell?"

"You're against the Church?"

"Don't take that tone with me." Her voice was firm, and her eyes were even more intense. "I'm not some heathen. I love God. What I don't love is people selling Him to gain themselves power over others."

"So that's a yes."

"You can't tell me you don't feel the same. I know you won't admit it verbally, but I can see it in your eyes. They're the windows to the soul, remember? The Church taught us that. I can see it in your eyes that you feel emptiness and dissatisfaction. You don't have to hide it from me, Priest. Hell, I totally get it; I feel the same way."

He was eyeing her with the most intent of stares, but not with contempt. If anything, he seemed curious of her, those dark orbs seeming to drill straight through her soul. What he didn't do was deny her words, and that was enough for her. Tilting her head at him, she gave him a small smile before patting the bed with her hand. Immediately, a flash of caution flickered in his eyes, and she rolled her eyes.

"We both know this isn't anything like that. This isn't a sin; both of us still have our clothes on, you goof. I just want to talk."

He hesitated for another moment or so, and she laid down on her side as he slowly walked over and sat down on the edge of the bed. She motioned for him to lie down, and although he looked reluctant he did as she wanted and laid down on his back. Beside him, she propped herself up on her elbow, resting her head in her palm to look down at him.

"Now… talk to me."

He looked at her, brow furrowing in confusion. "About what?"

"Tell me what you told that robotic confessional. I may not be part of the Church… but at least I'll listen."

It was obvious he was hesitant as he stared at her, as if contemplating on whether or not she was worthy of his trust.

"Tell me," she encouraged him gently.

His eyes fell, and after a moment he looked up towards the ceiling. For a long minute he was silent, but she remained patient, and eventually his lips parted to speak.

"I often have dreams… nightmares… about the war. About the people who have died because I couldn't save them…"

She nodded when he hesitated. "Go on."

He continued, "For a long time I've felt like something was off… like I've been missing something. Yet… whenever I try to find out what it is I'm shut out or told God will take me on the proper path." He paused. "I have worries… questions… doubts…" Tentatively, he glanced at her to see her reaction, so she made sure to keep her features very calm. She nodded to him.

"Go on," she urged him gently.

Glancing away, he returned his gaze to the ceiling. "I don't know what it is exactly. All I know is that I never feel complete… like I'm doing something wrong. Not wrong as in immoral… but wrong like I'm not seeing the full picture…" He paused again. "Yet whenever I ask for advice, I'm told…" He trailed off, eyes falling.

She eyed him knowingly. "You're told exactly what I said. 'The Devil comes in many forms' or something like that."

He was quiet a moment, and then he looked at her. Her eyes were still calm, but they had a knowing shine swimming in their depths. He wasn't sure why, but it felt reassuring. The way she looked at him always felt reassuring—like he could do no wrong in her eyes. It wasn't the impassive, almost robotic stare he always received when looking into the screens during confession.

"How long have you felt this way?" she asked quietly.

He hesitated. "I'm not sure.

"You want my honest opinion?"

He looked at her.

"I think you're incredibly smart. It's good that you have doubts; you know why? Because having doubts means you're capable of having your own mind. Doing everything you're told without a single thought is dangerous. You need to follow your instincts. God gave them to us for a reason." She smiled gently. "The Devil does come in many forms, Priest, and that includes in people whom we trust most. The clergy are just as capable of sinning as the rest of us. They aren't God. They don't get to decide your fate. You do."

His stare was hard to decipher as he listened to her, but she could tell he was listening intently.

"What you need to remember us that there is always two sides to every coin. There's murder, and then there's killing in self defense or to protect another… doubt and logic… casual, pointless sex and making love…"

His eyes shifted to hers.

"Lying to deceive and lying to cover someone's honor or to protect them… vanity and simple self confidence… sloth and exhaustion…" Her voice maintained its calm and quiet tone the entire time she was talking, never removing her composed gaze from his. "To question is not a sin. It all depends on how you ask. It's simple human nature to want answers."

At first he was very quiet, but she could tell he was thinking hard about her words. This was another thing he had come to admire about her. She was always so sure of herself, and as without directly meaning to she made him feel reassured. If it weren't her saying these things, he might not have taken it to full heart, but he trusted her. For the life of him, he didn't know why, but he trusted her. "…What should I do?" he asked at last, voice barely reaching above a whisper.

"You should do what you think is right. What does your gut tell you? If that means questioning the Church, then so be it. God knows I've done it plenty of times. The Church isn't God. I've loved Him and believed in Him all these years without the Church to guide me."

He shook his head slowly. "How are you always so sure of yourself?"

"Because I love God, and He knows it."

"How do you know?"

"Do you think He doesn't?"

"No… I mean, yes. I mean—" He sighed, but she just smiled warmly, knowing what he was trying to say.

"I'm alive," she said softly. "I'm healthy, I have a roof over my head, food, friends…" Her lips twitched. "If God were upset with me, why would He bless me with getting to know you?"

His eyes were incredible. It wasn't obvious, but she could tell her words had moved him deeply. Tender smile still in place, she reached forward and took his hand in hers, gently curling her fingers over his. She felt his slightly roughened fingers curl around hers in return, before he released a soft sigh.

"Thank you, Tessa."

She smiled. "Anytime you want to talk, my door is always open."

Even though he didn't smile or reply, she could sense his gratitude by his stare alone. A minute or so later, she nodded towards his body.

"Can I check your wound while you're here?"

Nodding, he sat up, as did she, and he shrugged off his cloak before lifting his shirt up on the side. Leaning in, she touched the healing marks with gentle fingers.

"Does it still hurt?" she asked.

"Not so much now."

Her eyes examined it for a little longer, when she turned her attention to the rest of him. She lifted his shirt up a little more so she could look at his back, revealing more of the scars littering his skin in jagged, darkened lines and notches. It came to her attention that some of the scars were hypertrophic, while a couple appeared to have been caused by burns. Lifting her hand, she gently traced her fingertips over a couple with a feather-light touch, feeling the smooth scar tissue. When she looked back towards his face, she saw his eyes were closed. She watched him for a moment, not too sure on what had sparked the sudden thought in her head.

"Have you ever had a massage before?"

His eyes opened at her question, as he turned his head over his shoulder to look at her, and she could see it in his stare that he was taken off guard by her words. "No..."

"...Would you like to?"

Yet again caution was written all over his stare, and she resisted the urge to roll her eyes.

"It's healthy for you, hun. If it's a sin to be healthy, then Satan take me now."

He was quiet, but he didn't make and verbal refusal, and for him that meant he wasn't rejecting her offer. She smiled.

"Take off your shirt. I promise you'll feel good after." Turning her body, she hopped off the edge of the bed and knelt down to pull a box out from under her bed, leaving him in a state of slight conflict. Another thing he had come to realize about her was that once she had an idea going through her head there was no possibly way to veer her attentions elsewhere. Admittedly, he felt a sense of inner peace after talking to her about his thoughts concerning his feelings of doubt. The conversation had left him feeling assured, even though he knew he should feel far from it. It was because he trusted her. He couldn't detect a single corrupt bone in her body. All he knew was that she respected him, and he knew she wouldn't try anything on him that would taint his honor—and vice versa. How bad could a simple massage be?

"Would you stop?"

He jumped a little. Turning his head, he looked down at her on the floor, where she was staring up at him with a vaguely quirked eyebrow.

"You have that look you get when you're thinking very hard about something. Your eyebrows do a thing. It's a massage, not a happy ending."

He furrowed his brows at her. "What's a happy ending?"

His frown deepened when he saw her bite her lip to hold back from smiling. "You'd find out if you weren't sworn under an oath of celibacy. Let's leave it at that."

Oh. Now he understood. In truth, he still wasn't sure exactly what it was, but he knew it definitely had to do with sex. He turned his head away so she wouldn't see the slight embarrassment on his face, and he reached back before pulling his shirt up over his head. When she stood, she had a bottle in her hand and motioned to the bed.

"Come on. On your belly."

She gave him a moment to adjust to a comfortable position before bringing the small bottle over his back. His body jerked visibly with a small jump when the cold substance land on his skin, and she let out a quiet chuckle.

"Sorry." She smiled softly. "It's just body oil. I keep it on me, because it keeps my skin soft, but it helps massages feel smoother, too," she explained.

Using gentle hands, she spread the oil over his back, neck, arms, and shoulders using long, wide circles and strokes. Starting from the base of his spine, she slowly moved upwards before circling back down. Whatever she had put on his back was smooth and spread easily with her hands as she rubbed his back. Tessa could tell he was a little tense, so she started out slow, gently kneading at the muscles around his shoulder blades. It took him a few minutes to relax, but eventually she felt his muscles gradually begin to lose some tension under her palms. Now that she was touching him, she could feel how tense his muscles were. He still wasn't used to gentle contact, which only made sense.

"Just try to relax, hun," she soothed.

From there she began to tenderly massage his back, shoulders, and neck. Her hands kneaded at his shoulder muscles, and to his surprise it actually felt okay. Gradually, he felt his muscles slowly loosen up, as he tentatively relaxed under her touch. He could feel the muscles slowly unknotting, as her fingers rubbed firm but gentle circles against them. She put pressure on the muscle around his shoulder blades, using her knuckles to rub circles. She could practically count every knot as she worked them out.

"You have a lot of knots. You really needed this," she muttered.

He grunted softly in response, not wanting to risk talking and ruining the wonderful sensations spreading from his neck all the way down to the base of his spine. It was unnatural how good he felt at that moment. He couldn't believe what she was capable of by using just her hands. Being touched in such an intimate, soothing manner was an alien sensation to him. Slowly, he allowed his eyes to close and released a quiet sigh, missing how she glanced up at him with a small smile. Using her knuckles, she ran them down his back on either side of his spine, leaving a pleasant numbness behind as she repeated the process a few more times. His eyes remained closed as she worked her way down his body, working literally every muscle he had. His body felt heavy, and he found himself wanting to just lie there and succumb to the lethargy that was spreading through him. Releasing a sigh, he allowed himself to fully relax and wrapped himself in his surroundings. The air smelt of a pleasant scent, the fragrance from the candles around the apartment filling his nostrils with a tranquil, sweet-smelling aroma. He briefly wondered how she had managed to find them. Products like that were usually expensive, but at that moment he couldn't have cared less. Muffled sounds from the city could be heard through the walls, and he watched through barely open eyes as the ashes fell outside the window. Shadows danced around the room in the golden glow of the spiritual candlelight, flickering every now and then. It was all so serene….

His eyes closed again when he felt her hands gliding over his sides, careful of his wound. He felt a shift on the mattress, and she positioned one hand on the crook of his neck and the other on his shoulder. Then she began to knead the skin and muscle in two smooth motions. The effects were amazing. It felt incredible, to say the least, and he was unable to hold back the suppressed groan that escaped him. What she did next felt a little strange, as she pressed her hands on either side of his upper back with the bases of her palms turned inward towards his spine. He felt a deep pressure, and then a series of cracks. The breath that left him was involuntary, but it wasn't from pain.

"You okay?" she asked quietly.

He nodded, and she continued. It felt amazing, as she cracked his back a couple more times, and it took all he had in him not to make a sound. By the time she was finishing up, his body felt pleasantly numb. Eyes closed in a state of blissful lethargy, his head was resting in his arm, the other laying across the pillow by his head. Words couldn't describe what he felt at that very moment. His eyes remained shut as he felt her shifting on the mattress. She sat beside him with her legs folded under her, and she lifted a hand to gently trace one of the scars on his back.

"It physically pains me to know all of these were treated by your tape jobs," she muttered.

One eye cracking open, he looked back at her and revealed his first real smile. No teeth were exposed, but it was genuine, and she found herself returning the gesture.

"You have a nice smile," she said softly.

He stared into her eyes, and she could tell he was trying to figure something out, but neither of them spoke. She just continued to trace her fingertips along his shoulders and the line of his back. She could tell he was falling asleep as she did this, and all it took was a single glance at his face for her to know he didn't get much sleep. Dark circles were always visible under his eyes. It wouldn't come as a surprise to her if he suffered nightmares on a nightly basis due to the life he lived.

Lifting her hand, she gently pushed her fingers through his hair. He remained still as she continued to soothingly massage his head, loving the sensations it brought. Stubborn as he was, his body was too exhausted to argue with his mind, and in the end the exhaustion took over. Gradually, little by little, he began to feel his eyes becoming heavy. He tried to keep them open, but his body was on its last reserves. Tessa's voice remained soft and calming, as her fingers moved around his scalp in a pleasant motion. Without his control, his eyes began to close against his will. He was faintly aware of lips lightly touching his temple before losing consciousness.

Tessa had watched with a small smile on her face as he drifted off, his lips parting a small fraction as he fell asleep. His breathing had become deep and slow, telling her he had fallen asleep completely. She'd placed a kind kiss on his temple just as he'd lost consciousness, and with a soft smile gracing her features, she brushed her thumb over his cheek before pulling a spare blanket up to his shoulders. She knew he would probably be embarrassed when he woke up, but he would live. He wasn't getting enough sleep, and if she could help that she was going to.

"Goodnight, hun," she whispered.

Some minor grammatical and dialogue changes have been made to this chapter.

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