Oh, and if you've never seen Law & Order: UK, no problem. Despite what Jamie might say, his character isn't all that different from Lee. :)
Word Count: 5,726
Pairings: Kara/Lee, Kara/Matt
Spoilers: "Daybreak" for BSG, none for L&O:UK
Summary: Seeing right through idiots like her was his job. But keeping him safe was her job, and she’d had centuries of practice.
* * * * *
Kara woke up on a park bench, freezing her ass off and without a clue where the hell she was. Great. She'd had worse entrances, but not by much.
Shaking the cobwebs from her brain, she set off toward the sound of cars. She wondered why they hadn't thought to give her a coat. The Lords were benevolent and merciful, but they sucked at the day-to-day stuff. Just outside the park gates, she spotted a sleeping man in a thick coat with a wool blanket. She paused to check him out. Dead? But the old man coughed and stirred before going back to sleep. Nope, not him. She plucked the blanket from him and wrapped it around her shoulders like a shawl.
The night air cleared her mind enough to remember the sitrep: Lee, cop, stabbing. Yeah, there was more to it than that, but she wasn’t big on knowing the details ahead of time. Going in half-blind kept her on her toes. Made things more interesting.
First, though, she wanted to find the flat she’d set up earlier as a crash pad when she was in London. Take a long shower, get some sleep. Hopefully there was some beer in the fridge. She kept walking. Nice neighborhood, aside from the bums in the park. London had changed a lot since the last time she was here. No plague, for starters. Hopefully this time would be better. Kara had a good feeling about it.
“Pardon me, but do you know where I could find Spherica?”
Kara turned around to look at the man who'd tapped her shoulder. Late-forties, maybe, with black hair and a leather coat. Without even thinking, she parroted, “The restaurant? Just around the corner.”
“Cheers, thanks,” he muttered then hurried off in that direction. She just blinked, wondering how the hell she'd known the location of a restaurant in a city she hadn't visited in centuries. But that’s how it always happened – bits of information coming out of nowhere, until her brain sloughed off the confusion of reentry and things fell into place.
As she headed up the block, she stopped short at the sound of gunfire. Hadn’t heard that in a long time, not since her last trip to a war zone. And when she rounded the corner, she found that same man in a pool of blood, passersby clustered around him.
Damn. She’d been doing this long enough to know that this sort of thing wasn’t random – at least not when she was in the area. Last thing she wanted was to get involved again, but someone had lit a fire under London’s finest, because they showed up almost immediately. Cordoned-off perimeter, officers up in everyone’s faces, the works. It reminded her of one too many bar brawls back when she was alive. Except those usually ended with a trip to the brig, and though her background story was probably tight enough to keep her out of jail this time, she really didn’t want to take her chances. So she kept her mouth shut until one of the cops asked what she’d seen.
“Not much. The guy stopped to ask me for directions. That’s it.”
Shit. She realized her frak-up even before the officer said, “Right. We’ll need you to wait here for one of our detectives.”
Fifteen minutes later, a car pulled up. She heard one cop say to another, “Devlin and Brooks are here.” Kara smiled to herself and stood up straight. Time to get this show on the road. But when he stepped out of the car and she got a look at him, she froze.
* * * * *
It was cold that night -- the kind of damp chill that got down to his bones no matter how much he tugged on his scarf. When his mobile rang, he'd been halfway to the pub to celebrate his friend Nick's promotion. Calls came with the job -- and he loved the job -- but he'd much rather be getting drunk while Nick complained about his boss. At least the case looked interesting enough; shootings were always a challenge, given the gun laws. When he arrived, Ronnie slapped his back with a, "Sorry, mate," and pointed him toward the witness. Matt shoved his hands in his pockets, wishing he hadn't left his gloves at the flat, and walked over to her.
She was blonde. Late twenties or early thirties. Attractive, but not stunning. In retrospect, he wasn't sure what made her stick in his mind more than any other witness he'd questioned. Maybe it was the American accent and the way she flirted right back at him. Or maybe it was that she looked at him like she already knew him. But - as daft as it sounded -- the air felt a bit warmer as she started to describe what had happened.
"Not much to tell. The guy stopped me on the street and asked if I knew how to get to Spherica. I pointed it out. That's it."
"Nice restaurant." He decided to lay on the charm to get a bit more info out of her. "You look like you'd know the best places to take a man on a date."
Shit, he knew how ridiculous it sounded even before he finished the sentence. But she raised an eyebrow and said, "Why? Are you asking me out?"
Matt blinked. Women didn't usually take him up on it -- at least not in these circumstances. He recovered and shot back, “That depends on how well you answer these questions." A pause for effect, then, "Did he seem at all agitated to you?”
“Did he indicate why he wanted to find that particular establishment?”
He squared his shoulders and nodded. After jotting down her particulars, he finished up. “Thanks for your help, Ms. Thrace. Do you have a phone number where we can contact you if we have more questions?”
She rattled off a number then paused and added, “Call me anytime.”
He recognized that tone of voice and the way her mouth curved up in a smile. Matt looked her up and down. As long as she was merely an eyewitness, she was fair game once the case was closed. Before he turned to leave, her smile shifted into an odd expression. She shook her head slightly. Expectant. Like she was waiting for him to recognize her, but he was pretty sure he'd never seen her before in his life. As he handed over a business card, something possessed him to say, "Likewise."
* * * * *
She'd met him before as a toddler, an old man with cataracts and a cough. Sometimes he was a woman. Sometimes she didn't recognize him at all. But he'd never before looked so much like him. Same eyes, hair, height. He was flirtier now. No heavy weight on his shoulders. But that man was more Lee Adama than she'd seen in millennia. She wanted to push him up against a wall and kiss him until he couldn't breathe. But the Lords had rules, and she'd learned the hard way what happened when she broke them.
Except it wasn’t really him.
Kara was pretty sure he'd just broken a few regulations about hitting on witnesses, not that she was about to remind him of that. Not with him looking that way. She watched him lean in and say something to an older man. All part of the job for him, while she was just standing there like an idiot. She wondered if he’d call her. That was the problem with this routine: all she knew so far was that something was going to happen to him, and she had to stop it. The lack of details meant that whatever she was here to prevent probably wouldn’t happen for a while. Good. She could just sit back and enjoy this.
She'd been a real pain in the ass lately – the Lords had made that clear. Maybe they were testing her, or maybe they were finally cutting her some slack. Right now, she didn't really care. One last glance at him, then Kara started walking back toward the park. She glanced up at the sky and muttered, “Thank you.” Then she added, “Hey, guys? Any chance I could get a map to the apartment?”
* * * * *
Kara fell asleep on the same park bench and woke up in a warm bed. Once her eyes adjusted to the light streaming through the windows, she did a sitrep. Decent apartment, clothes in the closet, food in the kitchen, cellphone on the table, with cash to top it all off. The setup made her laugh, like she was the Lords’ mistress or something. Though, to be fair, it wasn't all that far from the truth.
She stared at the business card, her fingers tapping the phone's metal shell. Waiting was always the hardest part, and all these years hadn't made her any more patient. Back when she was alive, at least she’d had some control. At least she was good at her job and had been ever since that first assignment of leading everyone here.
She opened the refrigerator. Fresh vegetable, milk, and several bottles of beer. That made her laugh as she opened one of them. The Lords knew her well. But their winning streak ended when she checked out the closet: the wardrobe looked like it belonged to a party girl. Eye-bleeding colors, low-cut tops, even a couple of dresses. “Oh, for frak’s sake,” she muttered. Matt probably liked that sort of thing. Great. She tossed the crap to the floor until she found some jeans, a plain sweater, and a leather jacket that wouldn’t make her break out in hives.
It’d been a while since she’d been down on the planet. She really wanted to go jogging, but this body was far too out-of-shape. So she laced up some shoes and went for a walk. Decent neighborhood, though a bit too fancy for her style. Cleaner air this time. Interesting people on the street. Whenever she saw them, she felt... maternal wasn’t the right word. Responsible, maybe. She might be down here for Lee, but she still felt the weight of their lives on her shoulders.
When she rounded a corner, she spotted a police officer writing a ticket for a parked car. Leaning against a wall, she watched the woman argue with the driver, which made Kara laugh. She was tempted to ask the woman for directions to the police headquarters. Drop by, check in on Lee – Matt – and maybe mess with him a bit. But that wasn’t the way this thing worked. The Lords gave her information when they were good and ready. Their timetable, not hers. Centuries ago, her task was to keep him from being executed for heresy. Couldn’t keep her big mouth shut, though, and the situation spiraled out of control until she watched, horrified, as he was tortured in the plaza. She could still hear his screams.
This waiting game sucked. She started walking again, faster this time. Better that than frakking everything up by going to the police station. She just wanted to see Lee again.
* * * * *
Matt stopped the tape and cracked his knuckles. The CCTV footage corroborated Thrace’s claim that the deceased – now identified as David Stavros – had merely asked her for directions. While Ronnie went over the forensics report, Matt paused and rewound the tape enough times for his partner to mutter, "The blonde. Just as I thought."
He didn't bother turning around. They'd done this dance more than once. Ronnie just laughed. "Remember what happened the last time you tried to pick up a witness?"
Matt rolled his eyes. "Thank you. I'd finally managed to forget her."
"What was her name? Susanna?"
"Oh, right." Ronnie's self-satisfied chuckle was all too familiar. "And if I recall, Sujata changed her story in court and nearly ruined the CPS's case."
Not exactly one of Matt's shining moments, even if she’d been great in bed. "Is there a point to this, Inspector?"
"All I'm saying is, finish the case. Then you can interrogate her all you want."
Matt stopped the tape and leaned back in his chair, smiling a bit in spite of himself. "I'm not planning to interrogate her, or whatever you're calling it now."
"And I know how your brain works, son."
The telephone rang, sparing him from this inanity. But just before Matt picked it up, he heard Ronnie mutter, "Be careful."
* * * * *
He managed to be careful for a sum of two days. Amidst all the detritus of the case, he took a moment to run a background check. Kara Thrace, thirty-one years old, from Philadelphia. Currently in the U.K. on a tourist visa, with a denied application last quarter for permanent residency. A few gaps in her C.V., but nothing set off any alarms. Just an ordinary woman who’d stumbled across a murder on her way home.
It seemed as simple as that. Simple enough that she faded from the front of his mind as the rest of the case took over. It didn't prove to be a distraction for long, though. The murder itself was prosaic: a drugs deal gone bad, two men so flush with ill-gotten gains that they didn't know how to walk away when things went sour. The type of case that read like something out of a criminal justice textbook, albeit now with gunfire to add to the fun. He was more than happy to call in a favour and let Ronnie take over the paperwork. While he waited to sign off on the report, Matt skimmed the witness reports and did some mental juggling. They had a confession, backed up by CCTV footage. When the case went to trial, Kara Thrace would most likely not be called to testify. No more possibility of a conflict of interest. She was available now.
Ten minutes later, he dialled her number.
* * * * *
A little over 72 hours on this planet, and she still felt like a slug. This morning she’d managed to jog a mile – or a kilometer, or whatever the frak they were calling it – and do a hundred push-ups. Now she was sacked out on the sofa, a buttery leather that wasn’t her style but felt great against her skin. She opened a second bottle of beer as a bunch of guys on TV played some game that was a pale imitation of pyramid. (Four millennia ago, she kept Lee from getting crushed by a falling rock as he built an altogether different type of pyramid.) At least the world was finally catching up to where it should be. It was almost like being back on Caprica, if Caprica had been incredibly boring.
Then the telephone rang.
She froze. Only one person had the number. She reached for it and steadied her voice, feeling like a godsdamned twelve-year-old. “Kara Thrace.”
“Ms. Thrace? This is DI Devlin from the Metropolitan Police. We spoke the other night during my investigation?”
“Right.” She drew out the word as her hand slid across her stomach, body buzzing at the sound of his voice. “Glad to hear from you again.”
He laughed. That was a good sign. “I wanted to inform you that we have independent corroboration of your eyewitness account. Your testimony will most likely not be necessary when the case goes to trial.”
“That’s good.” There had to be something else – there’d better be – or he wouldn’t have bothered to call. “Sure you don’t need me to come down to the station?”
“As a matter of fact, I was wondering if you’d like to meet me for a drink this evening.”
She sat up straight. There it was. Finally. The confidence in his voice was almost adorable. “Sounds good to me. Where and when?”
He rattled off an address that she committed to memory. “I look forward to seeing you, Matt,” she said in a ridiculous low voice that he seemed to like, judging by the low laughter in her ear. Then she closed the phone and leaned back against the sofa.
Gods, that voice washed over her, from head to toe. Both different from Lee’s and so similar, and not just the accent. Lighter and easier, as if he didn’t have the weight of a dozen worlds on his shoulders. She’d met Lee Adama – or his soul, as corny as that was – a thousand times since she’d left him on this planet, but this was the first time she could really hear Lee under the words. And it felt great.
* * * * *
The first thing he noticed about Kara Thrace were her lips – specifically, what they might be capable of doing to him. Even Ronnie wouldn’t fault him for that particular mental lapse. She gave him a slow smile, like she knew exactly what was on his mind. Given the way she looked tonight, he wouldn’t put it past her.
“Took you long enough,” she said, one finger tracing the rim of her glass.
Matt checked his watch. “You said nine o’clock, right? I’m ten minutes early.”
“That’s not what I meant.” Before he could ask what she did mean, she grinned. “So, what are you having?”
“You get right down to business! I like that.” While she signalled the barkeep, Matt sized her up. Blue jeans and a fitted leather jacket that looked expensive. No makeup or handbag. More striking than pretty. She slouched on the barstool like she was in her element. There was something almost aggressive about her flirting, as if she knew she was one step ahead of him. Like she was the inspector here, not him. It was disarming, but not necessarily in a bad way. He was intrigued. And he got the feeling that if he played things right, she might go home with him tonight. Not a bad fate, that.
“What brings you to this part of the world?”
“You.” She said it point-blank, and he froze. Then she shrugged. “Seriously, though, I spent my twenties in a dead-end job, and I needed to get out of there. London seemed as good a place as any. My aunt died and left me some money, so here I am.”
“And are you enjoying it here?”
“More and more each day.” Her lips curled into a smile that was a clear invitation, thus proving his hunch. From then on, it was easy. He turned off the investigative part of his brain and just enjoyed the buzz of good whiskey and chatting up a sexy woman in a pub. No deep conversation or meaningful insights, and that suited him fine. And he wasn’t surprised when she stood up and asked, “Do you live around here?”
* * * * *
Matt Devlin had a nice apartment about two blocks from the pub. It was warm and tastefully-furnished, with framed photographs and a fireplace and ... and a ton of other things she didn’t give a damn about as his hand slid up her inner thigh. Fumbling behind her, she grabbed the edge of the kitchen table and pulled her ass atop it before reaching for him again. He grinned and kissed her. Just like their first try, all those years ago.
When she moved down to cup him through his jeans, he froze and muttered “Hold on” before hustling off behind a door. And just like the second time on Galactica, she sat there half-naked in the lacy bra and underwear that she’d bought this afternoon, figuring it was Matt’s kind of thing. Great. But just as quickly, he returned with a foil packet in his hand. She tried not to laugh. That was Lee: always careful, even when he was about to get laid.
Kara lay back on the table and watched him with the condom. Once it was on, she parted her legs and wrapped them around his hips to welcome him inside. The sensation startled her, made her gasp. Gods, it felt so good. So familiar, even though it was only the second time. She opened her eyes and watched him start to move, a faint smile on his lips.
She didn’t let herself think about the rules she was breaking. Lee had died a hundred centuries ago, but this was him. Every inch. And this was so much more than she’d expected. Those lines blurred in her mind as she met each of his thrusts. Matt – not Lee – slid his tongue along her collarbone, over her breasts. He moaned her name, and she pulled him up for a hot kiss before she could say the name that was his but wasn’t. They moved together on the table, as she caromed closer and closer to her climax. And in the back of her mind, she thought about how he was frakking some woman he’d just met, but she was frakking Lee again. Finally.
* * * * *
Matt didn’t really expect her to still be in his bed in the morning but there she was, propped up on one elbow and watching him when he woke. There was something almost sad about the look on her face. “Everything all right?” he began, his voice scratchy from sleep.
He watched her throat bob as she swallowed and said, “Just trying to do it right this time.”
The only response he could think of was to pull her in for a kiss. He didn’t know quite what to make of her. She seemed to be taking this more seriously than he would’ve expected from their date last night. He definitely liked her and wanted to see her again, even if thus far they seemed more interested in sex than a good conversation. Beyond that, he hadn’t a clue.
He looked at her. She was hot, with a hell of a body. They’d had fun last night. Even if the idea of a relationship was still uncertain, he certainly appreciated the way she looked here in his bed, naked and flushed and wanting more. So he slid down and started the day off properly with his head between her legs. She was the most enthusiastic woman he’d ever slept with, which was a hell of an ego boost. Buying some time for him to get hard, he licked the alphabet along her clit – one of the surefire tricks in his arsenal. Her heels thudded against his back hard enough to leave bruises, not that he much cared at present. And once he’d gotten her off, she rolled them over and sank down onto him, so hot and tight that his eyes nearly rolled back in his head. Yeah, whatever else their relationship might become, the sex was magnificent.
* * * * *
Two days later, they went out to dinner then breakfast the next morning. She started meeting him for a jog after work. Most of it was just an excuse to get him into bed at the end. She supposed they were “dating” now, not that she’d had much experience with that sort of thing back when she’d been alive. The rest of the days were boring, but hanging out with him was good, even if she still had no idea what she’d been sent down here to do. All in good time, or whatever stupid adage the Lords were spouting now. Jogging, dinner, and all the sex kept her from losing her frakking mind while she waited.
Making sure she kept her story straight was a pain in the ass. Bluffing her way through triad was easy; this was like taking on ten Cylon raiders at once. For such a great detective, he hadn’t yet seen through the holes in what she told him about her supposed life. Maybe he’d run a background check. At least the Lords were good at faking that sort of thing. Had to be careful, though. If he ever found out what was going on, he’d be dead. In the past, she just flashed in and out of his life long enough to save his ass. She’d never frakked him before. He’d never looked so much like Lee.
The hardest part was reminding herself that Matt was not Lee – at least, not on the surface. On their fourth date, she took him to the planetarium at the Royal Observatory. As they sat there in the dark, she let him reach for her hand and lace their fingers together. The narrator screwed up every last fact this primitive planet knew about space, but gods, it was still home. Still so beautiful.
Once it was over, she looked at him as he squinted in the sunlight. “So, what’d you think?”
Matt gave her a bored smile. “Yeah, it was interesting.”
Shit. So much for any chance of triggering a memory. She balled her fists and tried not to hit him until he remembered something. For that one quick moment, she didn’t give a damn about the consequences. She was just so frakking tired of being alone in this.
* * * * *
Irish-Catholic mothers were the bane of a single man’s existence. As he dialled her number for their customary Sunday afternoon chat, he knew exactly what her first question would be. Sure enough, she began with, “Have you met any young ladies?” And therein lay the dilemma. He knew better than to lie to her. But if he even said that he’d caught a woman’s eye on the Tube, she’d latch onto that and not let go until she’d planned the wedding.
Matt chose the path of least resistance. “No, Mum. Nobody special on the horizon.”
That satisfied her for the time being. “Don’t worry, you’ll find someone soon. Have you talked to Marie recently? A publisher is interested in her book!”
And then she was off, prattling on about his sister’s success. Matt tuned her out, his thoughts turning to Kara, wondering if he’d ever tell his mother about her. If there was even anything to tell. They were getting on just fine, but she gave the impression that she could walk away at any time without regrets. He didn’t know yet whether he wanted more than that, but it was tempting.
* * * * *
He and Ronnie had spent the better part of the afternoon on a bench outside a courtroom at the Old Bailey, waiting to be called in on a case they’d worked last year. The lecturers at university had never let on how boring police work could be. To break the monotony, he got up and paced halfway down the corridor then back again. As he neared the bench, his mobile vibrated in his pocket. He flipped it open to find a text message from Kara.
Where r u?
He replied, Court. Bored. You?
At home. Naked.
Couldn’t help but laugh at that. Ronnie glanced up at him and rolled his eyes, as per usual.
* * * * *
Calm before the fucking storm. Family of four with their throats cut in the lounge of their home. He hated cases like these. They cut too deeply under his skin and kept him up at night. As he left the station late that night, his phone rang with Kara’s face on the display. And her voice was full of that usual hint of laughter as she asked, “I tried calling earlier. Where the hell have you been?”
Matt snapped, “Don’t ask.”
A pause, then, “Fine. Forget about it.” The line went dead.
Shit. He waited a few moments then dialled her again. “Sorry, it’s been an awful day.”
Though she still sounded pissed off, she said, “No big deal.”
He really needed to sleep, but right now he could do with a distraction. “Want to meet me for a drink?”
A half-hour later, Matt slid into a booth at the pub near his flat. She’d already ordered them a couple of pints. “Rough day, huh?”
“To say the least.” He recapped the case thus far, leaving out the confidential details. By the time he finished, they’d started on the second round of drinks. He leaned back to catch his breath, and only then did he notice the odd look on Kara’s face. “Sorry, I should’ve given you a warning. It’s a lot to take in.”
But she looked more relieved than upset. “So, that’s it...” she muttered under her breath.
“Just figured something out.” She shrugged then finished off the second pint. “Are you gonna be okay?”
He nodded. “Yeah. It just gets a bit rough sometimes. All part of the job.”
“You always did take things too personally.”
Not the first time he’d heard that, and it probably wouldn’t be the last.
* * * * *
She curled up in bed and watched Matt sleep off a damn good blow job. He’d passed out before he could get her off as well, so her right hand took care of that problem. At least now she had some time to think.
In two days, he would be called to a raid on the home of the man who’d murdered that family. The whole thing would turn into a massive clusterfrak that ended with Matt Devlin bleeding to death on the pavement, with a knife wound to the jugular. As soon as he’d told her about the case, she knew that it’s why she was here.
Kara closed her eyes and remembered him bleeding on the floor of the Rising Star, her bullet in his shoulder. No way in hell could she watch that happen again. Even without Lee Adama’s soul inside the chest that rose and fell under her hand, Matt Devlin was a good man who deserved a long and happy life. But the fact that he was Lee made it so much more important. She’d always just needed for him to live.
He looked so calm as he slept. It was strange to see Lee like this. Yeah, she knew they weren’t exactly the same, but remembering that was hard sometimes. Matt had plenty of problems of his own, but not like Lee’s. No bullet scar on his shoulder or hard muscles from years spent in a cockpit, though he did have an intriguing surgical scar on his stomach. Appendix, maybe? If that was the worst of his traumas, then he was doing pretty well for himself. With a finger, she traced the scar down to the line of hair below. He was so fresh, so new. Then she shifted on the bed and rested her cheek on his chest, listening to him breathe. He didn’t wake up. So frakking calm.
This was going to be tough. In the past, she just popped in and out of his life, long enough to haul his ass out of trouble. But Matt knew her now. She couldn’t get away with a flimsy diversion. He was too smart for that. Seeing right through idiots like her was his job. But keeping him safe was her job, and she’d had centuries of practice.
* * * * *
The faint late-afternoon sun cast a glare off the Thames that made Matt squint as he waited for Ronnie to finish up his phone call. He hadn’t been getting enough sleep lately, and not just because of Kara. Too much stress, along with strange dreams he couldn’t remember when he woke.
He turned to find Ronnie giving him a look. “Right, sorry. What’s the latest?”
A beat, then, “Forensics says the prints lifted from the knife don’t match the set we took from De Groot.”
It came out louder than intended, because Ronnie raised an eyebrow and said, “It’s not the end of the world, son. We still have the DNA evidence to sort through.”
Matt pushed off the railing and took a step. “Don’t patronise me. I’ve been around long enough to know when our investigation is thoroughly fucked up.”
The other man’s mild expression didn’t even fade; they’d had this conversation far too many times. “Then you also know not to write off a case in the first forty-eight hours. How about you go home, sleep it off, and we’ll have a do-over in the morning?”
Though Matt was loathe to concede the point, his partner was right. Grinding his teeth, he said, “Fine. Call me if anything turns up.” Then he shoved his hands in his coat pockets and walked away.
* * * * *
Kara hated all the motherfrakking waiting. There weren’t usually so many variables, so many things that could go wrong. She was damned good at her job, but she’d screwed up before. This mission was simple: keep Matt from going to the stakeout tonight. She had a plan in place. Turn off his phone, then distract him with sex so he wouldn’t get the call from his partner. Easy, with the added bonus of getting laid. She was still nervous, though, and that pissed her off.
She couldn’t sleep, so she went for a run. Watched television. Tried a bottle of wine from a corner shop, but it didn’t give her a good buzz. After none of that worked, she took the Tube out to Heathrow, where she sat in a nearby park and watched the planes take off. Compared to a Viper, they looked like bloated whales, but they still brought on a wave of nostalgia. She liked it here. It was close enough to the Colonies to almost feel like home. Once Matt was safe, she’d leave again. Find some other poor bastard to save somewhere else on this planet. That was her job, and most of the time she liked it. But leaving Lee – Matt – again was going to be especially hard this time.
Nearly dark now. Pulling out her phone, she checked the clock. As the planes roared above her, she tapped out a message for Matt. “Want me to help you blow off some steam?”
Took him a few minutes to reply with, “My place – 1 hr.”
Time to get this show on the road.
* * * * *