break it sweetly

After that first flight from Peru each move had come with a stack of bags and equipment. Orders passed down, transport arranged, no room for argument or that feeling like you were leaving something. Eyes ahead soldier. She’d signed up for it, willingly going where the officers told her to go. It had only ever been Copacati whose control she had strained against. The woman had never understood what it was her daughter was flying towards, only concerned with what it was she had left behind.

Katja’s eyes had been on the road ahead instead of the rear view mirror and the door of the apartment building swinging shut behind her. The cardboard box sitting solid in the back seat of the car, an anchor she caught sight of out of the corner of her eye as she took the familiar roads, keeping that feeling in her stomach from fluttering away. It had started earlier that afternoon, as she’d done a last sweep of the place, like she was cutting herself free again. Mental fingers flailing like she needed to find a solid grip on a life that was shifting too fast.

Mierda. Three years wasn’t too fast. Her fingers had found the one solid thing in her life soon after she’d arrived in Mystic Falls. She’d held on, the strong shoulders and summer sky eyes becoming her bed rock. She’d flown from them once, carrying only the memory with her to help her hold on in that pit in the ground. Finding them again here, she’d never wanted to let go.

Why was it now that it felt like she was scrambling to hold onto them? Katja tightened her grip on the wheel, mentally chiding herself. It was because she was taking another step towards the future she wanted, the one Kit had offered with his proposal. The one she wanted above everything else.

The ride passed quickly enough once she shoved those welling doubts about faltering in that flight down inside. They settled as a knot in her stomach, but it didn’t matter. Bernardo had seen enough in her expression as she’d said goodbye to not make one last attempt at talking her into going with him. Copacati’s acceptance wouldn’t come as easily, but it didn’t matter. She knew where she was going and she could’ve driven there, to him, with a blindfold in place. Home. That house full of men and testosterone, the one that would feel like it was creaking at the seams come Sunday.

Pulling up outside, Katja swung the duffel over her shoulder, but hesitated at the rear door of the car. She looked at the door, the knot back, pulling tight enough that she wasn’t sure she could breath, let alone move towards the door. A dozen steps, so why did her feet seem reluctant to take them?

Waqati.

Slower than she liked, she headed for the door, ignoring the feeling that washed through her. They were happy, there was no reason for this and she’d realise that when she was looking into those eyes again. Katja opened the door, depositing her bag in the hall. She shifted on her feet, about to kick her boots off, when her gaze hit the stairs. Raking up them slowly like Kit would come rushing down them instead of padding his way over from the living room. The flinch rolled through her before she could stop it.

Dark brows furrowed, her gaze shifting to his face, catching him studying hers like he’d seen her start. ”Hi,” she said hoarsely. The knot in her stomach rose, pressing uncomfortably up into her chest. It had only been a handful of hours since she’d left here that morning, but it felt as though something had changed in the house in that time. In him. In them. Walls thrown up between them, pressing down on her until it felt like she could barely draw air.

Katja forced up one corner of her mouth, amusement puffing out on a stilted breath. ”Busy,” she admitted. ”Bernardo had plans. I guess he got a call from her and he was ready to go jogging to her.” Attached to a leash like he always would. The name stuck in her throat, an apology filtering in her eyes as though it felt like she shouldn’t say it aloud. ”We handed the keys on the apartment back.” It wasn’t like she’d used it in months. Each night she’d come back here, to Kit’s bed, to her fiance’s arms.

She stepped close now, wanting to feel them around her again, like she hadn’t in months instead of just a few hours. Katja wrapped them around his neck, her eyes locked on the staircase. He had[ rushed down them. The image was right there, twisting at her stomach again. His eyes hazy instead of clear, his hands reaching for her before she’d torn away. She didn’t this time, but her voice caught in her throat all the same. ”Is there anybody else here?” she asked quietly, not sure she’d phrased it right – had anybody else been here. Would she still smell that woman on him if she breathed in now? Her eyes closed, trying to fight back the feeling like some curtain in her mind had been pulled away to reveal a life she only half recognised in front of her.

Tagged: KIT CLARKE * Word Count: 893
Translate: Shit/Coward

How was it that war was less of a wedge between them than Bernardo had been? Then you could vanish for months without a strain. Coming back together in that place like no time had passed at all. Here, it had been as though Bernardo was constantly inching between the two of them, her mother’s mouthpiece, meant to push her back towards a place that hadn’t been home since her father had been killed. For a minute she had thought that perhaps without that huge shadow he cast over them, things would be different, freer, but Katja thought that there was an edge to Kit’s voice even if his words were light.

Her fingers curled into her palms, the urge to settle a hand against his chest in reassurance that there was no hope of Bernardo truly coming between them squashed down. Katja shrugged, her smile falling away again. ”Si,” she murmured, feeling as though every word was a landmine waiting to be triggered. ”Packing, cleaning. They wanted the apartment spotless.” As though Bernardo would’ve let it be any other way. In spartan monk style the apartment had been almost sterile. Any signs that she had lived in this town at all were here. And suddenly they felt out of place.

Trying to flip the feeling around, to get back to the way she’d felt when she’d slipped out of Kit’s bed that morning, she wrapped her arms around his neck. The phantom sensation of the ring that would seal their lives together on her finger. Never any doubt about what would wait for her when she got home. Now it felt like it was all slipping away. Katja sank into the hug, hating the way it felt as though there was another world just out of sync with this one. A different house, a different homecoming, a different him, a different her. The question had burned in her throat, even though she was sure that asking it would bring more clarity to that other world and some part of her was terrified of seeing it.

”It must be so close.” she breathed, her voice almost distracted. Of course, it was close to Freyja giving birth. They’d seen her on Sunday, her bump practically a whole other person at the table already. Excitement filtering amongst them about the new addition, adding to the noise that she always basked in at the family dinners. Uncle Frank was probably counting down the days, ready to step in with Bo when the time came. They’d likely have him here then, that cherubic face charming all of them. The feel of that solid little toddler body in her arms, the sweet baby scent fainter now, but bringing on feelings she’d never expected to have before she’d come here.

They hadn’t been her family – hers had been left in tatters in the jungle – but through Kit they’d become hers. Feeling like her grip on them, on him was slipping, Katja’s hands slid down a few inches, gripping at Kit’s shirt like she could stop it all from vanishing between one blink and another. Her eyes burned, swam for a moment before she frowned and looked back at Kit. ”Kace?” Another part of that family, brought back like a gift to the brother who had been devastated when he had killed him. The two of them smiling in all those childhood photos, so close even then. How had he slipped her mind?

Shaking her head, Katja drew in a breath, felt the flex of Kit’s fingers on her and the instinct to pull away that she didn’t give in to. ”Not him. Not Frank.” Eyes that shimmered and finally saw herself here, Kit reaching for her, trying to hold on to her. ”Is she here? Did you bring her back here again?” Her mind raced, her breathing quickening as the memories slammed into her with all the speed and devastation of a mortar. ”What happened? I ... Was any of it real? Your sister? It feels like a dream.” One that had rapidly turned to a nightmare. Kace hadn’t been here then, just the two of them playing at happy houses while she’d been so clueless. All that hurt stripped away, replaced by the love that had been torn out by the roots when she’d bolted away from Bernardo the last time. Desperately rushing here towards the future that suddenly felt like it was crumbling like ash through her fingers.

Tagged: KIT CLARKE * Word Count: 745

”You came.”

In those moments when hope broke through, cracked and weak like her voice through her ruined throat, it hadn’t been Copacati’s hands she’d imagined pulling her from the pit, it had been his. Katja had seen the team return from hostage rescue missions before. Gaunt, weak soldiers helped down from the vehicles by the team that had pulled them from Hell. Gratitude filling dull eyes with life again as they gripped the arms of their rescuers in silent gratitude. Some were passed down in body bags, but it always felt as though the lost were brought home.

Had that been the way it had felt for Kit when the wayna layqa had pulled Kace back from wherever his soul had been stuck? Going from lost and adrift to having someone to reach out to until his mind, as fragile as those hostages’ bodies, had found the strength to stand alone again. There had been tremors, falls when she and Kace had reached out to steady him. The last time Kit had needed her there like that, she had been states away. With another man.

Guilt filtered through the heartache, sharpening the ache in her throat. It hadn’t been that she had wanted to sleep alone in a cheap motel room instead of here. People, innocent children, had died, and trying to find justice for them had felt like the right choice until it had cost her everything. Memories of her returned start to grow clearer, leaving bile burning in her throat instead of the fire that had wanted to tear free as she had rushed down the stairs and he’d caught her right here.

”You didn’t need her,” Katja said hoarsely. ”Not with someone in your bed every night.” The bitterness caught in the line of the scar that stretched silver across her throat. Knowing why it had happened finally didn’t erase the pain his mistake brought on, but it did leave her conscience prickling sharply. Loosening her grip on his shirt with her right hand, Katja flattened her hand over his heart in a silent apology. There’d been weeks of opportunity and plenty of reasons why he might have talked the woman, or a dozen others, back into his bed. She’d come back, they had made it up eventually, hadn’t they? Only now she couldn’t remember having done this before, desperately holding onto the promise it wouldn’t happen again, the same way she allowed herself to hang onto him now.

Drawing in a deep breth to try and stop the panicked rush of it, Katja felt his hands skim over her the same way she’d seen them soothe Bo as he cried. She wanted to melt into that touch and trust Kit, but who was to say this reality and his promises wouldn’t disappear the way it had before. Katja’s gaze darted in the direction of Frank’s office. Kace’s bedroom. She’d shown his niece the photos, her brain filling in the man standing besides Kit as just as distant relative.

Her brows drew together as she looked back, a gaze filled with worry for them both skimmed over his face. ”He’s back and he’s safe?” Heat tried to rush through her but the ice in her chest instantly melted the anger that bloomed at the thought of them losing each other again. Kit had said Kace was out and he wouldn’t have let that happen if Kace was still in danger.

The cold feeling slipped further into her gut, clearing the path for a truth she didn’t want to swallow. The only reason any of this had happened was because Kit hadn’t remembered killing his brother. So much trauma melting away, leaving some fairytale behind. Dropping her gaze, Katja swallowed hard. That reassuring flex of his fingers was back and she started to give in to it. ”That was real too,” she said hoarsely. ”You didn’t call, didn’t ask me to come back. You were struggling you turned to her instead.” She hadn’t been blind or naïve, she knew there had been others, but she’d thought they had been past that even if they hadn’t said the words to make it all official.

For as long as Kace had been gone, they had been. They’d planned a future not a dozen feet from here, she’d said yes without hesitation because whatever waited in the future for them, she’d rather face together with the man she loved. Katja lifted her head, a tear breaking over her lashes. ”You still want that?” she asked, hope cracking her voice. ”With what’s real now, you want to try and have a life together? Do you still want to marry me?” She wasn’t blind now either, all the scars that twisted them both up made a difference. They weren’t exactly the people they’d been when they’d made that commitment to each other. If they had a chance, it was going to take the truth, even if it could cut them both to the core.

Tagged: KIT CLARKE * Word Count: 832

Hurt, fresh and sharp, cut through her at the silence she got in response to observation. She wasn’t wrong. It had been about need that night and she hadn’t been there to meet it. She could have wallowed in that pain, letting it drown her, but learning that Kace was home and safe quenched it. Like a tourniquet it could be a temporary patch on the wound torn through her. As though she could do the same for Kit for only a moment, her fingers curled faintly where they lay over his heart. She hadn’t been there to do the same when the wounds inside of him started to bleed again, but she could be there now to make that silent promise that she would do what she could the next time fate tried to carve something away from him.

Being with him had always meant uncovering that vulnerable part of her. It was what you did when you cared about someone, not hiding away in a cave in the middle of nowhere as though being out of sight meant that you didn’t have to admit that you had a heart that could be hurt. Hers had, even though she had been able to see that what had happened that night between Kit and the woman wasn’t about her. It was about him and what he had needed when she been gone, what she hadn’t been there to give.

”I need you,” Katja said quietly, her gaze wanting to rise to his, but she wasn’t sure she wanted to see what would be in his eyes. ”It was important, si, but other people could have done it. I would have come home.” To a house where Kit had already found someone else to support him through what he was going through for just a minute. The family she was trying to find justice for had already been dead, but the man who needed her had been alone and just struck mute by shame or embarrassment, or even fear of admitting that some part of him was still scarred by all that had happened.

She had been right here for weeks, living the life she’d never been able to imagine for herself before. Heading for marriage, promises to make before Kit’s God, before their friends. Promises she, they would’ve stuck to in that reality, the one that had just been imaginary in the end. His answer to whether it was a future he could still imagine having with her didn’t do much to reassure her, the but leaving her pressing her lips together as that future continued to crumble before her eyes. Think ‘bout it. Can’t rush into it. Maybe wouldn’t do it all by the time they managed to get through the shit that had torn them apart in the first place.

Katja nodded, her lips still clamped around the vow that she wouldn’t leave him to be torn apart again. It wasn’t just her choice and it wasn’t as easy as saying I still love you. ”Si,” she echoed again quietly. ”I don’t want to rush.” Not to judgment, not headlong into a future that might vanish like smoke again. How many times could she pick herself back up after all?

The words wanted to stuck in her throat, but she croaked it out the same way she had when he’d proposed. ”Yes.” She’d have pulled a hand free to brush the tear away from her face, as though she could wipe the continued sting with it. Kit’s hands had slid down her arms though, gathering up her wrists like he could anchor here, and goddess, he could’ve done even without that hold on her.

A fierceness shone in her eyes, that core of steel and flame glittering in their pale depths. If it was his doubt of what his infidelity had done to what she felt for him she could wipe that away. ”I wouldn’t have left if you had come back hurt in any other way. Scarred, with no legs, it wouldn’t matter.” In her mind it was no different, the damage had just been internal, emotional, deep enough that it wasn’t yet entirely healed. ”I love you for all you are. So, yes, I wanna do that. I’m not gonna run this time.” It wasn’t as though she had anywhere to run to. She had been flying to him, finally cutting those – what did they call them? leashes? – training ropes Copacati had tied to her when she’d made Bernardo promise to stay with her.

If she fell now it was out of choice, because she was picking Kit and the chance of being hurt again when he was driven to his knees in his weakest moments. ”Where do we go from here?” Where had they been left standing when the truth had slammed back down between them? She hoped wherever it was, it was together, her hands ready to steady him, holding on tight as he was to her now.

Tagged: KIT CLARKE * Word Count: 834