As promised, this is the second chapter to be uploaded within the last 24 hours. Make sure you've read Chapter Forty-Four before this one.

Rated for adult themes.

Only Shadows Ahead

Chapter Forty-Five

"Another truck?" Linka asked, peering up at him with a shy smile. She gripped his outstretched hand as he pulled her up into the cabin. She clambered in on her hands and knees in a rather ungraceful manner.

"Hey."

She paused, looking around the surprisingly spacious cab before catching the sleeping bag he tossed in her direction. "You seem to have a thing for long-haul sleeping compartments, Yankee."

"It's a Merc. Figured at the very least it'd be comfortable."

"Oh." She clutched the bag to her chest, hugging it tightly, seeming almost nervous in his presence. "You are not joining the party?"

He shook his head, glancing back towards the compound. "Nah. Bunch of morons gettin' drunk and actin' stupid doesn't appeal to me."

"The Wheeler I know would have been right in the middle of it."

"Yeah." He gave her a lopsided grin. "I think my chandelier-swingin' days are over, babe."

He watched her unzip and unroll the sleeping bag over her legs, throwing the other end towards him. He nudged her feet as she settled back against the wall, smiling gently at him. Her hair fell in damp waves around her face, tumbling over her shoulders. Dressed in a loose cotton top and jeans; a long beige cardigan was wrapped around her, protecting her from the cold desert air outside.

"Where'd you get the clothes?"

"Ah. Tonight's wardrobe is courtesy of Macy's," she said, smoothing her hands over the top. "For the record, Blight has also been stockpiling Banana Republic, Old Navy and Tommy Hilfiger."

"Better than pink spandex."

Linka laughed, nudging his foot again. "There are also men running around outside in Scooby Doo costumes. And some without clothes at all."

"Uh huh. Okay." He grinned suddenly. "Check 'em out?"

"Nyet," she replied, indignant. "Gi did, though."

"Perve."

She gave him a radiant smile, smoothing her hands over the soft downy fabric draped over her lap. Delicate hands and long, slender fingers, just as he remembered them.

He wondered if it was a good idea for her to be here.

She still took his breath away.

He reached for his backpack with a resigned sigh, rummaging around for a moment. Pulling out an old, tattered box, he handed it to her. She took it, a question forming on her lips.

"What —"

"Kept you waitin' long enough." He shrugged, nodding towards the innocuous offering. "Thought you might wanna catch up."

She frowned, pulling the lid off and glancing down at the assortment of papers and photos contained within.

"Oh," she whispered, her eyes wide as she held an image up in front of her face, squinting due to the poor light. "Is this —"

The fire ring flicked on and he raised himself, shuffling over and taking a seat beside her. Propping his arm up behind her back, he rested his chin on her shoulder as she flicked through the images with delight.

"Are they in order?"

"You really gonna ask me that?" he snorted. "You know organisation was never my thing."

"Oh," she whispered, passing her finger over the glossy photo. "Oh goodness."

"First family photo," he said, smiling at the image of the two of them sitting together in a delivery ward — exhausted but grinning nonetheless, cradling a yawning baby wrapped in the hospital-issue candy-stripe blanket. "Hannah would have only been about an hour old."

"I am looking a little tired," she observed.

"Twenty-two hour labor with nothing more than a little gas. Absolute trooper."

"Really?"

"Yep," he said. "Can't say the same for me. I was a wreck."

She laughed. "She was a good baby?"

"We had a rough time, initially. Bad reflux, but things settled after the first three months."

He watched her flick through more photos, taking the time to study each one closely. One seemed to catch her eye; the two of them mucking around against the white-washed walls of Santorini. The calm turquoise waters of the Aegean sea glistened in the background. They were laughing — his arm clutched around her waist and tipping her backwards.

She glanced up at him. "Greece?"

He nodded. "Wedding day."

"Oh," she murmured, passing her finger over the short lace dress her other self was wearing. "I have seen this dress before."

"Dreams?"

"Not exactly." She smiled, shaking her head.

He reached out distractedly, brushing Linka's hair away from her face as she filed through the remainder. She stopped at the photo of Wheeler passed-out on the couch amidst a sea of toys; a newborn baby curled up on his bare chest. Both were sleeping peacefully.

"Eli?"

"Yep."

She smiled, nuzzling her nose against his cheek. "You always could sleep anywhere."

"So can the little guy."

"You look a little uncomfortable."

"Probably had a barbie doll head lodged up my butt"

She giggled, leafing through more. Parks, restaurants, at the beach, front yard; his Linka lazing in a deck chair by a tropical pool in a bikini, with a floppy hat and sunglasses. Grinning widely; her rounded stomach was on display. She inspected herself closely.

"It is strange to see myself like this."

"Pregnancy definitely suited you."

Linka leaned forward suddenly, scrutinising something that caught her attention.

"Bozhe moy," she breathed, glancing at him and pointing at her future self's chest. "Look at the size of my —"

"God bless hormones," he laughed. "Few extra cup sizes there."

"Oy," she breathed. "I am sure you had no complaints?"

"None whatsoever," he replied, winking back at her. "Made good use of 'em."

She rolled her eyes with a smile, turning her attention back to the box. She leaned forward, pulling out the silver belcher chain.

"Oh, God," she whispered, running her fingers over it's length, seeming to recognise it. Her eyes were bright with tears as she held onto the chain tightly. "I have seen this before."

He nodded.

"You gave this to me, just after you were shot."

"Yep."

"Mexico. You went back for it — I did not know."

"Uh huh."

She wiped her eyes, gazing up at the ceiling in an effort to compose herself. "You have held onto it? Onto all of this?"

"Yep."

He watched her take a deep breath, threading the chain through her fingers. "You are still holding onto me..."

He shrugged. "Hard to let go when I knew you'd be walkin' back through my door again… so to speak."

She took his hand carefully, pressing it gently between her palms. "You know I would have wanted you to move on. You deserve to be happy, Yankee. I —"

"I'm doin' all right, babe," he replied. "Really, I —"

"I worry about you," she said, pressing on with steely determination. "You are still young. I do not wish for you to be alone. You can still have a good life."

He shifted uncomfortably, aware that this was probably the weirdest conversation on record — being told by your dead wife to let her go.

"I just want you to be happy. She would have wanted that."

"You know, I think I'll be all right," he said, squeezing her hand. "Hasn't been as hard as I thought havin' you here."

"You will keep in contact with the others?"

"Yeah," he said. "Don't think I'll have a choice. Gi'll smack the shit outta me otherwise."

"Maybe she and Grace can head back home with you?" Her tone was hopeful. "Gi is struggling here. I know she would love to see the children. To have a relationship with them and Grace is wanting to head back towards the eastern coast eventually. Maybe they could both return with you."

He winced, opening his mouth to speak, but she seemed to anticipate his reluctance.

"Please, Yankee? Would you do it for me?"

"Ugh," he said, exasperated. "Six feet under and still tryin' to tell me what to do."

"And that is why you love me," she said, crossing her arms and fixing him with that stubborn expression he knew so well.

"All right," he said with a sigh. "There's a single guy down the road. Collects glass bottles and shit. Might be a match made in heaven."

"Thank you," she said, relieved. "I think she needs a new start. It would mean a lot for her to have a relationship with the malen'kiye."

"Aunty Gi," Wheeler murmured, nudging Linka with his shoulder. "Could probably use the free baby-sittin'."

"Da."

"Still a pain in my ass, girl."

"So you keep telling me," she laughed, resting her cheek against his shoulder. "You are a good man, Jake Wheeler."

"Don't tell anyone."

"I promise to maintain your reputation."

"Would you do anything differently?" He dropped down onto his side, still gripping her hand and tugging gently, encouraging her to lie the length of her body beside him. "Would you change anything?"

"When I am back home?" She laughed mirthlessly, shaking her head in wonder. "Where do I begin?"

She settled onto her back and he propped himself up on an elbow, soaking up those much-loved features. The creamy, smooth skin, the high cheekbones and full lips. Those clear, green eyes that were capable of radiating such warmth and humour and affection. They were committed to memory; imprinted upon his brain and stamped within his heart.

The memories no longer caused him physical pain, however. Right now — at this moment in time — having her here seemed inconsequential.

He briefly wondered what that meant.

He sighed, gathering her up and pulling her close to his body. Her arms wrapped around him, and he closed his eyes, resigning himself to the sensation of her fingers stroking lightly over his skin and through his hair.

The scent of raspberries enveloped him. He breathed her in, ducking his head and nuzzling the soft swell of her breasts, and he felt her still in his arms. He could hear her heart thumping loudly against his ear.

"I would do things differently," she whispered, dipping low and pressing a hard kiss to his forehead. "There are things I would change."

He rolled her over, moulding himself to her curves, and she hugged him back fiercely. Shifting his body between her legs, he stroked her cheek; drawing his thumb over her lips as she gazed up at him. Lowering himself, he kissed her tenderly. She gave a breathy sigh against his mouth, winding her arms around his neck and submitting to him wholeheartedly. He eventually drew back, distracted by the graceful line of her neck. He nuzzled her throat; pressing his mouth against her pulse and sucking lightly.

"I have seen us together."

Her voice trembled. She threw her head to the side, reacting to the heat of his mouth and tongue against her skin. Six years of intimacy had ensured an innate knowledge of her sensitive spots and he made good use of it.

"What have you seen?"

"I… uh," she whispered. Her body arched, seeming to forget the question as she panted softly beneath him. "Oh my god —"

"What have you seen?" he repeated.

Her breathing was shallow, her face flushed and he knew how aroused she was. He swept the hair out of her eyes, and she gazed back at him beseechingly. "I —"

"What were we doin'?"

"In the shower. On the floor," she gasped, fumbling for the bottom of his shirt and attempting to drag it upwards. He gripped her wrists and pinned them above her head against the mattress, doing his best to maintain an element of control. Knowing that once his shirt came off, the rest would soon follow. She groaned in frustration.

He ducked his head lower, brushing his mouth against the soft mounds covered by thin cotton. He knew he was getting carried away but at this point in time, he couldn't care less. He nuzzled her breasts gently with his lips, causing her to whimper and plead.

"What would you do differently? When you're back home?"

"Der'mo." Her voice was ragged as he gazed down at her — distracted by red-flushed lips that begged to be kissed.

"Repeatin' myself quite a lot here, babe," he grinned. "What would ya do differently?"

"Would dragging my Wheeler into bed be too forward?"

He smiled. "Guarantee you he won't say no."

"Neither will I," she whispered, locking eyes with him. He held her firm, using his free hand to trail a path down her throat and chest. He drew her blouse up, revealing the pale, smooth skin beneath, leaving her stomach and just the underside of her breasts exposed. She held her breath, rolling her hips towards him and was rewarded as he lowered his mouth, kissing and nibbling his way along her ribs and waist.

He was like a moth to the flame — unable to help himself.

Passing the point of no return. The warning signs were flashing; all the things that were screaming at him to stop. The implications that needed to be considered; yet those implications had changed from what they were originally. No longer concerned with being intimate with her, or growing attached to her again — the fact that he had no protection was the only thing playing on his mind.

He kissed her belly button and pulled her top back down, smoothing it over her taut stomach as she blinked up at him mutely.

"Jesus," he whispered, shaking himself slightly. She raised her head, eyes glazed as he entwined his fingers within hers, kissing her softly. "We can't do this."

"Why not?" she said, breathless. "Why —"

"I just think —"

"I have spent my whole life thinking!" she cried. She bit her lip, trembling, and he released her hands, alarmed to see her upset. "It is all I do!"

"Honey, we need to —"

"It has controlled my life, Wheeler! Thinking about my future and how to improve things — make things better! How to fix things! Thinking of ways to improve myself! Yet I wasted so much time thinking of reasons not to be with the only person who ever mattered! Thinking got me nowhere!"

She burst into tears, wrenching away from him, rolling onto her side and curling into a foetal position.

"Oh babe..." He manouvered himself in front of her, gently extracting the arms held rigidly across her chest, holding her as she cried wet tears against his neck. She seemed to relent; her body falling limp in his embrace.

"I am so sorry," she sobbed, wiping her eyes on the back of her hand. "I am so, so sorry, Wheeler. I have no right to act like this —"

He hugged her tighter, pressing his forehead to hers. "S'alright."

"I do not understand. I feel so strange. I have so many feelings and memories and pictures running through my head. They do not belong to me… but yet they are mine!"

He nodded, wiping her face with the pad of his thumb. Her long lashes were clumped together and he ducked his head, kissing her closed eyelids. She shuddered, winding her hands into his shirt and burrowing closer.

"You asked me what I would change," she said softly, raising her face to his, and he kissed her again. "I would stop letting my thoughts control my life."

He nodded, recalling a similar conversation with his Linka early on in their relationship.

A regret.

"I can no longer tell where I end and where she starts," Linka said softly. "I am so confused."

"I know."

"But I am not confused about you," she said, winding her arms around his neck with a sigh. Nuzzling his cheek with her nose, she regarded him solemnly. "But I understand if it will be too difficult. I don't wish to complicate things for —"

"I just don't wanna knock you up before I send you back," he admitted, and her eyes widened in surprise; evidently not expecting this reasoning. Probably having assumed his reluctance was due to the emotional toll on him, rather than the potential physical toll on her.

"Oh," she said, sniffling quietly as she got herself under control again. "It is fine. I am not currently… I am at a safe time in my cycle."

Her teeth pressed upon her lip— her face blotchy and streaked with tears as she reached out and touched his face. She looked so young and so vulnerable.

He slid his hand underneath her shirt and cupped her breast, rolling her nipple between his fingers, knowing how much she liked it. She slumped back against the mattress again with a soft sigh, clenching and unclenching her fingers against his chest.

It gave him time to think — time to consider his options.

"You met Yogi Bear yet?"

"What?" she croaked. Her breath was hot and fast against his cheek. "I do not —"

"Brad," he said. "Park ranger."

"No. Why?"

"Got a look at your picnic basket before I did," he said, grinning, and she smacked him lightly. "In my timeline, anyway. Just tryin' to figure out where you're up to in terms of… you know."

"Oh. I do not know this Brad." She shook her head; her hair fanning prettily around her face as he rolled her roughly onto her back again. "I have never… not technically, anyway."

"M'kay." He unbuttoned her top slowly; eyes lingering on her soft curves and that perfect, milky skin. Trailing his fingers over her breasts, he kneaded her flesh gently; his mouth dipping low and resuming it's gentle exploration. "I can work with that."

She made a soft noise, clutching his shoulders, sinking back against the sleeping bag as his hand slipped down between their bodies. He opened her jeans, sliding under the denim and rubbing her through her panties with steady strokes of his thumb. He could feel her arousal as she rocked against him; her breathing ragged and desperate.

Because he knew just where to touch her, how to please her. How to make her squirm with pleasure.

She whispered something, dazed. A combination of garbled Russian and broken English. He smiled against her breast, recalling the way she would lose the ability to articulate when they were in bed together. How she would let herself go — like a finely-tuned piano, he knew how to play her. It was the only time she lost control completely.

And he felt the overwhelming urge to test that theory. To close the circle of grief.

To say goodbye.

Her lips parted; clothes askew and face flushed prettily. Her chest rose and fell as she watched him expectantly.

Fuck it.

Wheeler lunged forward, gripping the waistband of her jeans and panties and reefing them down her legs. He tossed them aside, gripping her thighs and dragging her towards him.

She gasped, arching her back and pulling the remainder of her clothing up and over her arms until she was naked and trembling; fingers flexing against the rumpled sleeping bag. Her flaxen hair spilled in long waves over her shoulders, trailing down her arms.

His eyes travelled over her hungrily — soaking up the banquet lying before him. He dipped low, mouthing searing kisses over her ribs and stomach; then back to her breasts while his fingers worked deftly to find their target again. She bucked and shivered beneath him; squirming breathlessly as he settled himself between her thighs and kissed her languidly.

Intent on warming her up before he eventually brought her crashing down.

But that would come later. This was their time.

He was in no hurry, after all.