Whither Thou Goest

His vision red with anger, Garcia slammed into his room. He was going to take a moment to calm himself, grab a book and then go. He would read until the others were asleep and then take up his nightly position outside his door, guarding Lucy.

The sight of Lucy in Wyatt's arms had been excruciating. She was an affectionate woman; he knew that. He also knew that Lucy needed to re-establish some form of communication with Wyatt. It would break her if she and Wyatt ended up hating each other. Currently their verbal communication was only causing them both pain so she had tried some non-verbal communication instead. Rationally, he understood that was all the hug meant. Lucy was the one who ended it and pushed Wyatt away. Yeah, but Lucy was the one that initiated the hug. His inner voice was going to give him no peace tonight. It was just that after holding her and having her kiss him, seeing her with Wyatt, however innocent, felt like a particularly brutal jab to the kidneys.

Click. He turned at the sound of the door latch catching. How the hell had he been so deep into his own head that he hadn't noticed the door opening? And there she was. Hair hanging in wet tendrils around her pale face. Exhausted and make-up free, dressed in one of his black shirts and a pair of leggings, she was still breathtakingly beautiful. Wait, one of his shirts? Damn if that didn't make him feel all warm and fuzzy deep inside.

She sent him a shy smile. "I hope you don't mind. I've been borrowing your shirt to sleep in. It makes me feel …"

Voice warm with affection, he told her "It's fine. My closet is your closet, my bed is your bed, my room yours."

Paraphrasing a bit aren't you? Why not just give her the full verse? 'Whither thou goest, i will go; and where thou lodgest, i will lodge: thy people shall be my people.' It's what you're doing. His inner voice wasn't wrong. It was what he had done. He had followed her here to this hell hole that they were currently trapped in. Stayed, despite the fact that he probably could have escaped. He had embraced the bunker's odd patchwork family for her sake. Particularly in Wyatt's case. He might not have exactly embraced the other man, but for Garcia not killing him was close enough.

"It looks good on you. Help yourself to whatever you need." Everything in here, including me, is yours anyway. "Let me just grab my book and get out of your way."

"No."

Garcia looked up at that. Did that mean?

"Stay, please. Garcia, could you stay and just hold me tonight?"

Lucy was carefully looking at the floor. Her long delicate fingers worrying the hem of his shirt. A blush was coloring her cheeks but still she continued on.

"The other night, sleeping in your arms… I think that was the best night's sleep I've had in months. I felt so secure, so cared for. I just …"

He was across the room in a second. One hand at the nape of her neck, the other on her hip, drawing Lucy into the warmth of his body. He tucked her head against his chest, dropped a kiss onto her hair, and just breathed in her scent. Whatever flower fragranced her shampoo filled the room, surrounded him with her until he felt like every molecule of his being was drinking her in. His heart was so full that he was surprised that it still fit inside his chest.

"Always, draga. I will always hold you. You never have to be afraid to ask. I told you, I'm here for whatever you need."

Lucy's arms tightened around him to the point that he could scarcely breathe. She shifted slightly and placed a kiss on his chest just over his heart. He was glad his hands were in her hair otherwise they would be shaking.

He could feel the energy pulsing between them spreading throughout the room. The moment spun out around them. He had no idea if he held her for minutes or hours before he led Lucy over to his bed.

"Why don't you just …" he gestured to the bed, indicating that she should lay down. "I'm just going to change into something a bit more comfortable."

He heard the rustle of covers and the creak of the cot as Lucy got into bed and got situated. He could feel her eyes on him as he pulled off his sweater and pulled on a t-shirt. Every nerve ending in his body was on fire.

Lucy scooted over in the bed to make room for him. It was not a large bed and Lucy was practically falling off the side. He reached out to pull Lucy closer into his body and his hand touched the bare skin of her leg. The warm, silky smooth, bare skin of her leg. Apparently Lucy had decided that the leggings would be too warm. Or that she wanted to slowly torture him to death. It was a herculean effort not to run his hand up all that soft skin, over her hips, and up under her, his, shirt. Fuck. Yes, fuck. A long, slow, achingly deep fuck. That's what you wa- Garcia locked down that particular thought before it could make him any more aroused than he already was as Lucy shifted and shimmied against him. All those soft curves moved enticingly against his body as she settled herself into a more comfortable position. Somehow he managed to smother a moan.

"Are you sleepy?"

Nope. Not even close. There was no way he could sleep with Lucy pressed up against him. It was quite possible that he would never sleep again.

"I just can't seem to shut my mind off."

She wasn't the only one.

"No. I'm awake."

"Tell me something true. Something I don't know about you."

I'm in love with you and it terrifies me. No, no, can't say that.

"Um, okay. I actually liked Moulin Rouge. Lorena used to make me watch it with her and I pretended that I hated it but I, uh, kind of really enjoyed it."

"Not something that I would have expected. Maybe I should suggest it for our next movie night. I'm sure Rufus and Jiya would love to know it's your favorite."

He could feel Lucy smile against his chest and hear the laughter in her voice. Still, he couldn't let her get away with that. He gently poked her just under the ribs and lightly tickled her.

"I don't think I can allow that. You forget, I know just how ticklish you are. Journal Lucy let me in on a lot of your little secrets."

Lucy's journal entry describing just how he happened to discover that particular fact was one of his favorites. That memory and the way Lucy was currently squirming against him in response to his tickling necessitated an immediate change of topic.

"Your turn. Tell me something I don't know about you."

"Well thanks to Journal Lucy, I'm not sure there is anything you don't know about me."

Oh draga moja, there are so many things I don't know about you. How you feel about me. If you could ever forgive me for the things that I have done. If you could ever love me. If you still love Wyatt.

"Oh, I'm sure she left out something. Give it a try."

"Hmm, okay, well… I religiously watch all of the 'Real Housewives' shows."

He couldn't quite contain his laughter. "Sorry, Journal Lucy, sold you out on that one Dr. Preston. Try again."

"I don't think I like Journal Lucy."

He smiled into the darkness, his hand gently stroking her back. Somehow the slight pout in her voice was ridiculously adorable.

"Lucy…"

"Okay, fine. I don't like Pride and Prejudice. I know all women supposedly love Jane Austen's books but I'm not a fan of any of them."

"Now that I didn't know. So tell me, what does the esteemed Dr. Preston like to read?"

"A little bit of everything. Shakespeare, Nora Roberts, Diana Gabaldon, Dashiell Hammett, Steve Berry, Mary Shelley, Alison Weir, Machiavelli, Lord Byron, William Blake, G.K. Chesterton, Edgar Allen Poe, J.R. Ward, Agatha Christie."

"Quite the list."

"You asked. I like to read."

His hand resumed stroking Lucy's back. They were both silent for a while. Each trying to decide which questions they would risk asking. Finally Lucy shifted so she could see Garcia's face. The moonlight coming through the bunker windows granted just enough light for her to make out the outline of his features.

"Garcia, before we met David Rittenhouse, you told me that if you got your family back, you would hug your wife, let your daughter jump into your arms, and then say goodbye and walk away forever. Would you really do that?"

Her voice was soft and hesitant. At this point, Garcia knew Lucy well enough to know what she was really asking. She was asking if he would walk away from her. If he miraculously got Lorena and Iris back would he stay with her or would he, like Wyatt, return to his wife. He brought his hand up to caress her cheek and prayed that she would believe his answer.

"Yes, Lucy, I would really walk away. I loved Lorena and Iris, a part of me always will. But I'm not the same man that was a husband and a father. I've done too many things, changed too much. I can't go back and I've grieved for them. I … it's not them I see when I close my eyes at night."

Unsure of what words to say or how to make her believe him, Garcia pulled her up onto his body. Let his lips claim hers gently. He didn't want to pressure Lucy, but hoped he could convey with his body what he could not convey through speech.

She let out a soft moan and fisted her hand in his hair, nipping at his lips with her teeth as she took the kiss deeper. Her legs tangled with his as she rocked against him. The hand at her back found its way under her shirt stroking her soft skin. Pressing her tighter against him.

One of Lucy's hands moved under his shirt, caressing his abdomen. Little shocks of electricity coursed through his body at her touch. He rolled them so she was underneath him. His mouth moving from her lips to her cheek and down her neck. Teeth biting lightly at her clavicle.

"God, Garcia."

Hearing her say his name in that deep throaty tone sent a flood of desire coursing through his veins. She shifted again, spreading her legs slightly and cradling him between her thighs.

"Draga moja, tako lijepo."

She rolled her hips and pressed her core against him ripping a moan from his throat. One hand cupped her breast, fingers teasing her nipple to a taunt peak and sending a shiver throughout her body.

"Bog vas zelim"

"Garcia please."

She let out a breathy moan as his mouth found hers once more. Tongues clashed as he ground against her. Her heat scorched him through his flannel pants. The movement of her body against his drove him insane.

All coherent thought had left his brain, there was only Lucy. Lucy helping him raise up her shirt. Lucy arching as his mouth found her nipple. Rocking her hips so her core brushed against his arousal over and over. Lucy moaning his name and please repeatedly. He would never get enough of hearing her call for him, desire evident in the raspiness of her voice.

He stopped kissing her long enough for her to remove his shirt. She reached for the waistband of his pants and he pulled back. Gasping for breath he looked down at her. Her eyes were black with need, chest heaving as she sucked air into lungs that were on fire, lips swollen from his kisses. His hands fisted into the covers, knuckles white with tension, as he struggled to force out the words that needed to be said.

"Draga moja stop. We can't."

The look she gave him was a mixture of hurt, frustration, desire, anger, and confusion. God grant me strength and the words to make her understand.

"Lucy, I want you more than I want to take my next breath but we can't do this tonight. It has been a difficult and painful day and I don't want to rush this or make you do anything that you might regret. I… just couldn't…if you regretted this I don't think I could stand it."

Lucy stared up at him not moving and saying nothing. Garcia looked down at her, all his defenses dropped, and prayed she could see that he spoke the truth. He reached down and brushed back a curl that had fallen down onto her face as the silence stretched between them.

"Ljubavi, tell me you understand. Shake your head, smile, something, please."

Slowly Lucy shook her head yes, she did understand and Garcia felt some of his tension leave him.

"Tell me you don't hate me." Please, please, don't hate me.

Her head moved from left to right and she gave him a small smile. No, she didn't hate him. Thank God. His heart felt lighter and suddenly he could once again draw a full breath.

He pulled his shirt back on and reached to pull down her shirt. If he had to look at that expanse of milky white skin much longer all his good intentions would go out the window and he would finish what they had started. Once Lucy was safely covered, Garcia laid back down and drew her against him. His hand softly stroked her hair as the darkness surrounded them. Her quiet voice broke the silence that had descended.

"I don't regret it."

His hands momentarily tightened in her hair. He pressed a gentle kiss to her forehead before he relaxed his grasp.

"Just tell me that again in the morning please. Now close your eyes and go to sleep."

With a soft sigh, Lucy did just that. Garcia remained awake, content just to hold her and, once she was safely asleep, told her all that was in his heart. Words of love and endearment in Croatian that he hoped she would one day come to understand.