#Magnus and Rebecka

[rebeckalindahl]

The Retreat

Rebecka sat at one of the few empty spots that were left around the fire.

On one side of her was an elderly woman who pulled away as Rebecka sat down. She was trying to be subtle, but Rebecka saw it, felt it and she sank into the seat, trying to make herself as small as she possibly could. In doing so, she brushed the arm of the man who was sitting next to her.

She winced and looked up at him, her eyes apologetic for having invaded his space.

"I'm sorry, sorry," she said with an awkward smile as she tried to shrink even smaller. "I underestimated to time it would take to get here..."

She wished she had been early. She was always early. She was always prepared, but maybe not so much this time.

What she was really saying to him was that she was sorry for taking the seat next to him when perhaps he just wanted to be left alone.

He had a kind face with soft eyes despite their sharp bright blue color.

"SHHHHHH!!" the elderly woman hissed at her as the leader of the retreat came into the middle of the circle.

Rebecka's head snapped toward the woman, now having annoyed her twice in the space of a minute.

"Sorry, right, sorry," she mumbled as she faced the leader and her face burned red from embarrassment,

This was going to be a long week.

She tried to focus on what the leader was saying. There would be yoga, and a book circle... but she was just so tired.

Her attention was roused when a woman just 2 seats from her started to talk about the book she had brought. And then, to her horror, the man next to her held up his book shyly.

"It's a cookbook. I like cookbooks. There's a lot of soups in this one," he said and then his voice trailed off.

Rebecka looked around her when she realized she was next and everyone was waiting for her.

"I, oh, well, I bought 5 books."

"You were only supposed to bring one," the leader said with a smile.

Rebecka blushed again.

"Ja, I saw that in the letter we received , but I... I couldn't possibly just bring one book. I always have multiple books and I read every day so I thought..."

The woman next to Rebecka rolled her eyes.

"Which book would you like to use for the book club, Rebecka, isn't it?"

She nodded and reached into her bag, picking out just a random book and holding it up.

"Ah, alright. So we have a literature fan amongst us," the leader joked, pointing to the book of pocket maps that Rebecka was holding up.

Rebecka blinked and looked at the book and scrambled to take out another book. But they had moved on to the surly woman beside her.

It wasn't starting well.

She hadn't wanted to sink into the ground this much since 8th grade when she thought her sisters friend was asking her to go to a dance with him, but he was really just asking if her sister would go with him.

Rebecka crossed her legs and her arms as she held her actual book in front of her and she tried to concentrate on the other participants.

When everyone got up to get some snacks and find their cabin, the kind man beside her introduced himself to her.

"I'm Magnus. I like maps."

Rebecka introduced herself and they walked to get some food and talked on the way. She was very glad for his smiling face. It almost made her forget her embarrassment.

The next day was slightly easier, but she hadn't slept much the night before, so during the yoga class, she drifted off to sleep while in the child's pose. She woke to someone shaking her awake.

"Sorry, what? Sorry," she said as her large eyes blinked away sleep. She didn't see him smiling at her.

The next day was a hike day and she tried her best to focus and keep up, luckily there was a leader assigned to the back of the line so she wouldn't get lost.

"Are you feeling alright Ms. Lindahl?" they asked her.

"Oh, yes, of course," she lied. "Just having problems with sleeping at night.

"Have you tried drinking some tea?"

Rebecka smiled and said she drank tea a lot at home and would try it that night.

She ran into Magnus as she went to get her tea.

They talked as they walked and then they sat together and drank their tea by the fire. Rebecka explained why she was there, how work had mandated that she get away, rest, not work for a full week.

Magnus laughed and said that it was the same for him. They bonded over how difficult it was to 'relax'. He walked her back to her cabin and said goodnight.

"Think about puppies," he said with a smile as he turned to leave. "Puppies sleep really soundly."

Rebecka laughed and waved to him.

But thinking of puppies didn't help. Rebecka had never had a puppy. She had never even held a puppy before and she spent the rest of the night wondering how a puppy would sleep. She should surely know how a puppy slept... but she didn't.

The next day she was as tired as ever, but she rallied and had breakfast and dinner with Magnus and then they sat together at the book club meeting. She was glad when they got paired together and she could just sit and listen to him talk about cooking and she could ask him questions about puppies.

Before she knew it, everyone was breaking off to go to sleep and she and Magnus were left alone sitting by the fire.

The chairs were soft and warm as she asked him to read her his favorite recipe in his cookbook.

He began to read, reluctantly, but she was interested, and so he continued. He had only gotten to the sautéed onions when he looked up at her and saw her slumped over in her chair, fast asleep, her book held tight to her chest.

He stopped and looked at her. She was glowing in the light of the fire, as the colors of the flames danced on her rosy cheeks and long golden hair. She seemed to attract the light to herself, soaking it all up and making the darkness more deep around her.

She was beautiful.

But just as he thought that, she started, realizing her had stopped reading.

"Please, go on," she whispered.

Magnus went back to reading, and when he had finished that recipe, he found another, and another, and another until he was sure she was asleep.

He moved his chair slightly closer to her so that he could catch her if she fell from the chair, and he grabbed a blanket on a nearby chair and draped it over her.

She stirred, but then cuddled into the soft blanket and she whispered a soft "Thank you Magnus."

He stayed with her until she woke up and then he walked her back to her cabin. He would have offered to carry her if he thought she would let him, but he stopped himself.

She apologized for falling asleep, but he waved her off. And when she asked if he would come in a read to her until she fell asleep again... he couldn't say no.

He sat in the chair next to her bed and slept once he knew she was asleep.

When Rebecka woke in the morning she saw him there, already awake.

"Is that how puppies sleep?" she asked quietly.

"Yes, I think you achieved sound puppy sleep," he said with a smile. "Can I get you some coffee?"

Rebecka sighed.

"I would love some coffee."

He moved to get up. "We are going to have to make something up about the questions we were supposed to answer last night, for the book club.

Rebecka caught his hand and squeezed.

"I can cover that. I'm good at that. Thank you, for reading to me last night. I had dreams I was eating pumpkin soup," she smiled at him sleepily.

Magnus chuckled. "That was the last recipe I read to you. I'll have to make it for you sometime, hopefully it will be as good as it was in your dreams."

He looked down at her hand in his and he wasn't sure how it felt so natural. She wasn't the type of woman who should be interested in him. He looked back at her as her eyes slipped closed again and he smiled.

"Coffee, and then we make up a lie to tell the book club."

As he got her coffee, he couldn't help the smile on his face, even though his back was killing him from sleeping in a chair all night.

[alexbkrieger13]

https://www.aftonbladet.se/sportbladet/fotboll/a/bgwRpk/lista-har-ar-svenska-vm-stjarnornas-garage-fotbolls-vm-2023

I am nosy i wanna know what cars they drive 🤣

Zecira Musovic: Fiat 500e

How good is Zecira Musovic at driving?

- Very good. I do everything right in traffic. But Kadeisha Buchanan (Canadian national team player) on the team described me as a turtle. Very slow, but I just want my passengers to feel safe with me. Interpret it however you want.

How's the left traffic going (playing in Chelsea)?

- Good. I just need to be extremely rested, concentrated and focus on driving alone.

So you don't want to meet a tired and unfocused Zecira Musovic in left-hand traffic?

- No, you should probably stay away from that. 

Fridolina Rolfö: Audi Q2 silver

Caroline Seger: Mercedes CLA 200

- Yes, you should make a list, then I have a Ferrari and a Porsche, says Seger, who actually drives a Mercedes.

Jonna Andersson: Bicycle

- A white Sjösala, says Andersson, who despite cycling is a good driver.

- I'm pretty good, I would say. Calm and safe.

Magdalena Eriksson: Audi A1 white

Stina Blackstenius: Audi Q3 black

How good is Stina Blackstenius at driving?

- I can sometimes feel that I definitely could have driven a little more calmly. I am generally a person who is in a hurry everywhere and lacks patience, which does not always go hand in hand with driving. It's like nothing has ever happened, but it doesn't always have to be so stressful, she says.

How's the left traffic going (plays in Arsenal)?

- Things have gone well since I moved there. It didn't take long before you got the hang of it. But when I come to Sweden it gets a bit confusing that way instead. It is a good mark that you have entered left-hand traffic.

Hanna Bennison: BMW 116D

Linda Sembrant: Jeep

How good is Linda Sembrant at driving?

- Good, but I needed to adapt to driving in Italy. It is very different from Sweden. In Sweden we are very calm, while in Italy there is not quite the same harmony in driving. You have to follow in the flow, otherwise it is almost dangerous.

There is not as much harmony at Linda Sembrant behind the wheel in Italy?

- It's the funny Linda Sembrant who drives in Italy.

Johanna Rytting Kaneryd : Volkswagen Polo

Olivia Schough : Bicycle

- A Monarch called Karin. 

Madeleine Janogy : Volkswagen T-Cross

How good is Madelen Janogy at driving?

- I think I'm good, but I'm often told that I'm not that good.

From whom then?

- Everyone who goes with me. There is always something. Either I brake too hard or not at all, or it goes too slow or too fast.

Rebecka Blomqvist: Volkswagen Taigo

Jennifer Falk: Volkswagen Taigo

Kosovar Asllani: Kia EV6

- Peter went with me when he came to visit. He said that I was a perfect fit as an emergency police officer and I see that as a positive. I don't drive dangerously, it shouldn't be dangerous, but if I find a gap, I take it.

Magnus Wikman: Honda Civic, champagne colored

- I'm not a champagne guy, but I still like it, he says.

Peter Gerhardsson: Volvo XC60

How good is Peter Gerhardsson at driving?

- Very good. I have taken an emergency driver's course and keep the speed. I am very particular about that, says Gerhardsson.

However, the union captain reveals that things have not always gone right on the roads.

- But then I have to admit that when I covered the European Championship in 1997 in Norway, I went there for speeding. They had speed limits of 30, 40, 50, 60, 70 every hundred meters. They changed all the time. 

[neverthesamelove]

The Detective and the Dessert

The cadet held the box gingerly in his hands. He looked down at the huge slice of colorful cheesecake topped with a mountain of sprinkles and he furrowed his brows.

It was the 5th day in a row.

They were always different, always elaborate. Once it had been a slice of pie, once a piece of coffee cake, once a cinnamon roll cake, and once a chocolate cake that was so large it needed to be in 2 boxes taped together.

It was the cadets last work day for the week and he wondered as he brought the colorful box to the detective's office if there would be another one tomorrow. It was eating away at him a little bit. He almost volunteered for an extra shift just to be here so he would see if another one came.

He needed to do his studies.

BUT HOW COULD HE STUDY WHEN THIS DETECTIVE KEPT GETTING SWEETS DELIVERED!!!

And they had to be from someone he knew, and someone that Ebba knew, because Ebba would never have accepted them if they weren't. There was a very strict policy about gifts for officers and detectives.

So as he got the detective's door, he took a deep breath, screwing up the courage to ask him who they were from.

But his courage left him as soon as he saw the blond man's stoic face.

Detective Martinsson was very serious, and extremely private. He was not going to share any information with a cadet whose name he didn't even know.

There were rumors that he had a girlfriend and a few of the cadets had seen a fashionable blonde woman picking him up one day, but they had to be just rumors. Detective Martinsson was a workaholic, a man married to his job, there was no way he would have time to find a hot girlfriend...

"Just put it on the desk," Martinsson said without looking up.

The cadet froze, looking between the detective and the dessert.

Martinsson looked up from his computer, his eyebrows raised.

"Is there a problem?" he asked in his most authoritative voice, which, in spite of the way he was in his personal life, was very convincing.

"N-no, sir, no. I just- I was just wondering..."

Martinsson shot the cadet a warning look.

"Right, sure, of course..." the cadet stammered.

"On the desk."

The cadet slunk into the office, making himself as small as he possibly could. He placed the plastic box on the desk and backed out of the room.

"Have a nice evening...d-do you have any shifts this weekend?" the cadet asked awkwardly.

Detective Martinsson kept his eyes on the younger man. He wasn't that much younger, maybe 5 or 6 years, but he seemed like a child to Magnus.

"No, this is my last shift for the week."

The cadet shifted on his feet.

"Ja, me too. I'm going to be doing some school work, I have an exam coming up and I was hoping to go out for a few beers with my friends..."

Detective Martinsson crossed his arms across his chest and leaned forward on the desk, his eyes firmly on the nervous cadet.

When the cadet stopped talking, Magnus forced a smile.

"Well, good luck with that. I don't miss those days, work and school and attempting to have a social life. It's a pain in the ass."

The cadet laughed a little too loudly and then took a step back, his arms flailing. Detective Martinsson was not going to be giving out any information today.

"Try to get some rest too," Magnus said and then he went back to his computer, dismissing the younger man in a more polite way that he probably deserved.

But Magnus just needed the cadet to leave because he was so weary from having to NOT smile at the 5th dessert, for the 5th day in a row, and he just wanted to call her and smile at her through the phone and plan their weekend, just the two of them.

The cadet nodded and looked down.

"Ja, you-you too," he said as he turned and hurried away from the detective's office, defeated.

Magnus stood up and dialed his phone as he closed the door to his office. He perched on the edge of his desk, facing away from the door, his long legs spread wide apart.

"Hej," he paused, a wide smile spreading across his face. "Thank you for the dessert, but I don't think I'll be needing it tonight."

"Are you sure about that?," the woman's voice came through the phone.

Magnus chuckled and crossed his arm over his chest.

"I am very sure, Ms. Lindahl. Very, very sure."

There was hushed laughter and whispered words and a promise to pick him up as soon as his shift was over.

And that evening, when the cadet was leaving for the week, he caught sight of Detective Martinsson grabbing a blonde woman and lifting her off her feet in a embrace. The cadet looked away as the Detective lifted his hands to the woman's face and held it as he kissed her deeply.

"Hmmm, the cadet whispered to himself as he got to his car.

And when he looked back, Detective Martinsson had picked up the woman and she was holding onto him and her laugh was tinkling off the precinct, and for the first time, the cadet thought he heard The Stoic Detective Martinsson laugh along with her.

"Still sweeter than all those desserts!" the detective said as he whisked her to her car.

[ansgar-martinsson]

The Best Intentions - Part 7

“You know, Joline, you remind me of someone,” Ansgar chuckled, lifting his fingers to wave languidly at the passing jogger. He laughed harder when said jogger did a double take and turned his head quickly away. “Someone I knew in America.”

“Really?” Joline replied. “I remind you of an American woman?”

He nodded. “You are very American in your demeanor, but in only the good ways.”

“In the good ways, huh?”

“Yes,” Ansgar bowed his head slightly. “In the good ways.”

“As opposed to like… the bad ways?”

Ansgar inhaled, his eyes widening. “Oh, there are many, many bad ways, believe me.”

“Like what?”

Ansgar snorted. “Like…,” he blinked, pulling down his lower lip in a slight cringe, “a bizarre obsession with American football and baseball, a love for tiger-piss beer, a craving for over processed foods, hyper-consumerism and and an overt label consciousness,” he frowned, still considering. “Not to mention a need to be considered independent paired with a constant demand to be pampered, kowtowed to, and fawned upon, and a tendency to be offended by the slightest thing and then post a crusade on Facebook about it. That sort of thing.”

She sucked air through her teeth. “Yeah, bad ways. I get it. So, who was she? This American in the good ways who I remind you of.”

“Her name is Kay. Kay Browntree. She’s in the construction business, a flooring contractor. Has her own business, very ambitious. But she has her boots on the ground for all of her work. Very hands-on. Grout under the fingernails and all that. I liked that about her.”

“A girlfriend?”

Ansgar sighed. “A potentiality that never came to fruition, I’m afraid. I was in Chicago on a project, she was one of my subcontractors. Unfortunately, I had to move on to another project across the country.”

“Why do I remind you of her?”

Ansgar lifted his eyes in thought. He crossed his legs as he twisted to face her, one arm draped languidly in his lap, the other remained perched atop the back of the bench. “Many reasons, I suppose. Kay makes me laugh – a rare thing indeed. She’s carefree. She gives zero shits about who I am, about my bank account or about appearances or personal hierarchies or societal proprieties. She speaks her mind, damn the consequences. She’s honest, transparent, hard-working, and driven. There’s nothing false about her. What I see is what I get. Much like you.”

In short, nothing like Faye. Nothing at all like Faye.

“Oh,” she intoned. “Tell me more.”

He laughed again, but his face softened. He reached toward her and brushed a lock of her dark hair away from her eye, drawing the soft strands gently between finger and thumb. “I see… I see a soft sophistication to you– a knowledge of art, a taste for luxury, an appreciation of the beauty in machinery and an admiration of the finer things. I see an innate grace in the way you move – in the way you shook out your hair when you took off your helmet, for example.” He shrugged. “She’s a lot like you in those ways as well.”

Her eyes widened, just that little bit, Ansgar noted, a microexpression of self-conscious surprise, a shiver at his touch. She shifted further on the bench, crossing one leg beneath the other, her booted foot dangling off the edge of the bench. She leaned against the back, her elbow hooked around the wood slat, her hand dangling just near her breast.

Ansgar couldn’t help but look.

And she caught him looking. She peered down at her own chest, and knowingly lifted her eyes back to him, her hand open in an indicative gesture. “Oh, I get it. Really, it’s just that she’s got great tits like mine.”

Ansgar choked, his eyes gone wide, his mouth formed into a hollow ‘o’. He recovered quickly, flipping a sardonic yet appreciative quirk of an eyebrow. “Noooo,” he crooned. “Yours are far better.”

It was her turn to choke. She sat bold upright, staring incredulously at him. “Excusemewhat?”

He formed his features into a comical ‘oops’ face, his eyebrows shot high, his lips puckered, his hand covering his mouth in a gesture of mock delicate prudishness. “Oh, did I say that out loud? Well. Hmmmmm.” His lips curled in a wicked half-grin. “That must mean that I find you sexy as well.”

“We’re doing brilliantly at keeping our partnership purely professional.” She dipped her head back to follow a bird in flight. “Nice alliteration.” “Thanks. It pops out sometimes.” She shifted on the bench, bending the knee under her to bring up to her chest. She tugged her foot as close to her bum, hugging her arms around it. Her other foot swung underneath the bench, her toes scraping an even tempo against the gravel. “Dad’s influence.” Ansgar saw her zealousness turn inward. The curse of loss taught him the same trick. He nearly opened his mouth to say something when she beat him to it. “He was American, you know,” she dropped in conversationally, without truly pausing to ask. “Got my guts, gumption, glory and grin from him.” A faux smile appeared, behind closed lips and a pensive look. “And my alliteration.” “But your surname… Lindberg, is Swedish, yes?” “My mother’s surname. My parents were… unconventional, never married, never lived in the same country. Scandalous!” She jazzhanded past that tidbit expecting outrage and judgement. When none came, she lifted her eyes to her companion. “Do you really want to hear all this? Or will you be reading the backs of your eyelids in sixty seconds?” Despite himself, Ansgar was intrigued by her. “Feel free to tell me as much or as little as you would like.” Jo’s eyes followed as a family of four chattered by, disrupting the atmosphere with all their ruckus. The baby cried, the toddler whined, the mother yelled and the father talked over all of them. “I’ll abbreviate. Dad worked for Zim International, that shipping company–” “I’m familiar with them. I held several contracts with them importing bamboo from Asia." "Oh, figures… all you executive types know each other.” He chuckled at the generalization, not at all offended by the stereotype. “I grew up here, near Gamla stan… until seventeen. I moved to America to go to uni, Norfolk it was, in Virginia. I stayed on there, graduated, worked, travelled…”

“And,” he flipped his hand, palm up in her direction, looking for another handout of information, “what made you move back here?”

Joline looked at him for a long moment, considering for as long as it took to make a decision on how much she should tell, how much was appropriate. She inhaled slowly, reciting the mantra on her arm over and over in her head.

Live life when you have it. Live life when you have it. Live life when you have it.

And so, she did. “I love my family; I needed them. I missed so much, my mother, my brother… He got married and had kids while I was away. I’d never met my sister-in-law. I didn’t meet my nephews until much later. My mother got sick. I missed so much. And then my marriage fell apart while I was living in Florida.”

“You’re married?”

“Was. Right out of uni. We were young and stupid and playing grown-ups, but we weren’t compatible. It was a mistake, one I’m glad to have made only so I don’t repeat it,” she sighed, playing at a rueful smile. “When there was no affection left in it, we went our separate ways. He went off to DC, and the offer for the Globe workshop fell in my lap. The Globe led me back here, put me in the running for the Opera House, and here I am.”

“I’m… I’m sorry,” he couldn’t find any other words to say. His thumb tucked in against his palm to follow that familiar track to the gold band on his ring finger. He didn’t spin it this time, only tapped it, reminding himself it was still there.

She smiled sadly, but there were no hard feelings of resentment or sadness in her features. “No need to apologize.  Sometimes two people aren’t meant to be together. That’s not always tragic or the end of the world.” She stretched out her legs again, unraveling from the coil she’d put herself into. “I loved him once and I remember that. A part of me, my younger self, the overgrown teenager self, still loves Steven… always will. But she’s not all of me and I’m not quite her anymore. I don’t know if it happened suddenly or over time, but one day I just knew. I needed my family… and they needed me.”

Ansgar nodded. “Family, yes…,” he he paused for a moment in thought, his lips pursed. His eyes focused on nothing in particular… a boat in the distance… as the impact of Joline’s story washed over him.

He thought of his own losses. His own journey, the ways in which he’d shed skin after skin, identity over identity over the past few years. The way in which he’d, as Faye had put it, gone soft. Soft in Faye’s estimation, however, was still as prickly as The Iron Throne to the rest of the world. He thought of Magnus, of Rebecka, and of their child. Their children, now, plural. Thought of the way they had welcomed him back into their home, into their arms, into their world – no questions asked, no consternation about him being for all intents and purposes dead for a year and a half.

And to know Joline had lived that, or something like it as well gave him the sense of a kindred pull to her spirit. A knowledge. An understanding, and the weight of it, the warmth of it settled upon him like a blanket.

“Family is everything, isn’t it?” he finished his thought at last. “I mean, when you come down to it, no matter what sort of shit you get into, no matter how much you hurt them, no matter what pain you endure, no matter how long you’re… you’re gone, no matter how much you change, no matter how hard you try to disappear, it’s your family that… that….”

The sound of a screaming child from just to his right yanked him from his reverie. He shook his head, blinking hard, and gave a breathy chuckle, smiling ruefully up at Joline. He sighed. “Well,” he shrugged, “let’s just say it’s a good job you had your family to come home to.”

He pressed his hands to the bench and shifted forward to stand, but she stopped him with a hand on his arm. “Ansgar.”

“What!?” he snapped, but his eyes softened in almost immediate apology. Live life when you have it, right?  “Look, Joline,” he sighed. I’m just going to come right out and say it. I think you’ve sussed by this point that I am rather… intrigued by you. Even more now that we’ve had this talk.”

“Yeah, I think I get that.” She smiled. “And I kind of want to jump your bones, too, so what’s the problem?”

“Complications,” he said, “albeit minor ones.” His lips curved in a melancholy smile. He stayed perched on the end of the bench, his knees spread wide, and he bent forward, elbows rest on his thighs. He clasped his hands together between, his thumbs working one against the other. “Things we should lay out on the table before we continue.”

“With our partnership? You’re not having second thoughts or…?”

“No! Of course not,” Ansgar sat upright. “That’s not what I’m talking about.”

“But,” she stood then and rest her hands on her hips. “What are you talking about, then? I mean… how can we even think of anything personal when we’re working together?”

“I’m very good at compartmentalizing,” Ansgar declared. “We simply need limits… understandings. I’ve done it before.”

She frowned, cocking her hip. “Done what before?”

“Worked closely with someone,” he took a long breath, his jaw jut forward. “Someone with whom I’d engaged in another sort of relationship.” He stood, then, and stepped nearer, peering down at her, his eyes hooded and intent. “I would like to know if you can do the same.”

She narrowed her eyes, tilting her head and matching his gaze with her own. “I can, I think,” she said slowly. “But, first, I need to know who.”

“Who? What do you mean, who?”

“Who was the someone you worked with? Who were you working with and fucking at the same time?”

He blinked, and his breath caught in his chest at the blunt force of her question. He kept his mask in place, however, his muscles barely moving, his eyes not wavering at all as he said slowly, evenly, “Faye Valentine-Martinsson. My former VP of Security. My wife.”

She lifted her chin, ever so slightly, and her right eye twitched. “Your… wife,” she intoned. She shook her head, her breath hissing from her flared nostrils. “Damn. That ring on your finger you keep playing with…. I should have known.”

“Joline…” Ansgar grasped her arm. “You don’t understand….”

She slapped his hand off, stepping quickly back. “You know, I thought for a minute that maybe you weren’t like that… how silly of me, how stupid! How…ah, fuck all of this… all of it!”  She turned and ran, bolting down the gravel path, her boots kicking up small white rocks in her wake.

“Joline! Wait!” He pelted after her, quickly and easily catching up to her to run beside her. “Joline! Joline!”

…Joline… Joline! Please don’t take him just because you can.

“Leave me the hell alone!”

She increased her speed, but again, he matched, overtaking her. He passed her, cut her off, and quickly turned around, He caught her as she caromed into him, clutching her hard by both of her arms. “Stop,” he commanded. “For fuck’s sake, stop!”

“Let me go, Martinsson!” She writhed, grunting and growling against him, her leathers creaking against his.

“Hey!” He held her fast with an arm around her back. “Come on now! Listen!”

“You can’t…do this,” she seethed. “I won’t… I won’t be that… that woman!”

“What… oof! Ohhhh, fuck!” He groaned, bending over but keeping his grip on her. She’d turned in his arms and threw her elbow sharply backwards into his ribs. “Christ! What… what woman?”

“The other woman!” She gnarled, her teeth grit. “Won’t be your fucking mistress!” She kicked backwards, landing the heavy wooden heel of her boot squarely in the middle of his shin.

“Jesus fuck!” He howled and split his legs wide to avoid more blows. Likewise, he craned his neck to avoid her fists that flew at his face. “You… won’t be! You’re not…. ouch, damn you! Stop hitting me!”

“Fine! Then I’ll do this!” She lifted her foot and slammed it down hard upon his toes. “Fuck! Off!”

“Aargh! Stop that! That fucking hurts!” Ansgar released her, but swiftly whirled her back to face him. He grasped her by the head, one massive hand on either side, and he stilled her. First with a small shake, and then with his gaze, penetrating and sharp. Then with his voice, firm and commanding. “Joline! She left me! I. Am. Not. Married. Anymore!”

… and then, with a growl, he pulled roughly on her, drawing her firmly to him where he silenced her, at last, with his lips.

Joline grunted, her eyes slammed shut, not unexpectedly, but for the control she lost in the situation. All her fight instincts took flight, leaving her defenseless to Ansgar’s kiss. She opened to him, having lost her protestations, denials, angry outbursts of sexual frustration, and let his lips do the caressing, manipulating the last of her vigor.

His tongue swept across her parted lips, a brush against her lower lip, to test her, to make sure she wouldn’t bite as hard as she kicked. Instead she moaned as he tipped her head back to deepen the kiss. Boldly, encouraged by the heady auditory approval, Ansgar plundered her mouth with as much possessive greed as she had entered his office… and his life.

Joline hiked up on her booted toes to erase the last bit of distance between them, wanting for be consumed by the torrential heat blazing off of him. The tangle of tongues sent the sweetest torture of sensation straight to her core, her body heavy with need. One of his hands dug into her hair to hold her captive against his mouth, the other pressed into the small of her back, tipping her hips against his. Dull fingernails scraped along his scalp when she took hold of his curls.

Lust played an undeniable force around them like gravity held them to the Earth’s surface. Slaves to it, but masters of it within their sphere of two. Their friendly jogger, his sights on Ansgar, now making his fifth lap past them, cut his losses and kept going to beat off his own arousal at the picture the two made, a smash of leather, denim and desire.

Ansgar was the one to end the meld of lips and teeth and tongues, regrettably. He knew that if they went on as they were he’d tear her clothes from her body and take her right on the spot, the wandering curious gazes be damned.

Joline herself felt ready to jump into her arms, coil her long legs around him and search out the closest surface to fuck against. He tasted of coffee, sex, danger and she already felt the addictive streams pouring through her body, her pores itching for his fingers and mouth as a balm.

His breath panted against her lips, swollen and pink from the pressure of their passionate kiss and the burn of his goatee. But—Fuck! She was a vision! His influence on her for all to see, he was almost… enchanted by it. He dragged his thumb across her lip, “You’re delicious. I simply cannot wait to taste what other flavors you’re hiding.”

Joline kept her eyes closed, concentrating on the bursts of heated breath spreading over her abused lips and the vibrations from his lips to hers. “God-fucking-damn it, Martinsson!” Only her voice had dropped to a seductive purr instead of the angry tones from moments ago.

He dropped his mouth to her ear, his tongue rasped at the fleshy lobe just once before her murmured, “Search out other art on your skin.”

The five ink decorated skin spots hidden beneath her clothes tingled, sending out a honing signal for him to lock in on. Joline pried her eyes open as he lifted his face to peer into hers. The brassed off woman had been somewhat tamed by temptation, he could see it in the flush of arousal and the relaxed scowl. “If this is what ‘intrigued’gets me, I’m fucked if I ever pique your interest,” she quipped in a delayed response to his comment that led to the heated argument and equally as heated kiss.

The pride and arrogance displayed on him in the forming of a Cheshire grin. “You’re fucked either way, as soon as I get you alone,” he replied confidently.

“I was half hoping you’d be shit at the kissing bit,” she groused. Her hands and the rest of her trembled in her heightened arousal, her libido blaring red to near overload.

He smirked, his fingers playing in her hair once more, wondering at her natural color, “Should I apologize or thank you for the backhanded compliment?”

She sighed dejectedly, “Which drawer have you shoved me into then?” Her words adopted a combative tone but she was still pressed salaciously against him.

The slight didn’t faze him as it would anyone else. He recovered within the blink of an eye, “Joline, I didn’t mean you and you know that’s not what I meant by compartmentalizing.”

She pressed her shaking hands to his chest applying the slightest of pressure to extricate herself from his intoxicating embrace. It didn’t help, she wobbled like a newborn faun, her legs unsure after his seductive kiss. “I just need to know where I fit in your cupboard of playthings. One night stand? Fuckbuddy? Lover? Experiment? Trying me on to see if I fit? Mistress?” She hissed the last word.

Defensively, Ansgar grabbed her arms again, nailing her with his piercing gaze, rooting her to the spot. “I told you. My wife left me,” he ground out between clenched teeth. “You can’t be a mistress when there’s no spouse to cheat.”

She couldn’t explain her petulance. They’d only just met, she had no room to make demands on him. But she felt so strongly about being labeled… “I’m not a homewrecker. I don’t go after other women’s men. That’s not me. I’m not that woman! I won’t be!”

Exasperation colored his sigh of impatience as he dropped his chin to his chest. Women infuriated him at times, tested his limits and busted his balls. Getting laid shouldn’t be this difficult, especially when he reduced the woman to a quivering mess clearly affected by his kiss alone, as he’d done with Joline. “Christ, Joline, you’re not!”

“You’re wearing her ring… still. The one that you promised to love, honor, in sickness and all that rot, yes? It’s still on your finger where she placed it. So are you married or not?” She then crossed her arms under her breasts as if to shield herself from the truth or defend herself from crushing disappointment when he dismissed this thing as not worth the aggravation.

Ansgar’s eyes shifted back and forth between hers, assessing her stake in this. “Why is this so important to you?”

The traffic in the distance had faded, the boats on the water muted, the fragrant breeze that smelled of licorice stuck, even the humans in the ceased to exist. All of that stripped away to leave two souls trying to find common ground to explore their attraction for one another.

“Because when you take me to bed, Ansgar, I want you fucking me. I don’t want you fucking the memory of your wife or ex-wife or whoever she is. I don’t want agendas or schedules or any other person involved.” She stepped into his space again, tucked her forefinger into the belt buckle and tugged him against her until their bodies clashed together, breast to chest, stomach to abdomen, center to groin.

She purred, “Pleasure… adult animal magnetism… orgasms for hours.” Joline nuzzled her hips against his, not quite a graze but something akin to it, a promise of so much more. “Dirty, filthy, raw sex – between two people and we’re the only two people in that room. I want sweat. I want sticky heat. I want shortness of breath. I want my body clamped around your cock.” She bit his lower lip, raking her teeth over the sensitive flesh. “I want the neighbors needing a smoke when we’re sated and too blitzed to fuck again. You can have me when I can have you. You can fuck me when that ring isn’t on your finger.”

[mfsescswedeninternational]

MELODIFESTIVAL 2019 WEEK: SO THE OTHER CHANCE IS IN NYKÖPING

Songwriters Thomas G: son, Bobby Ljunggren and Erik Bernholm together with a second chance-cheering Anna Bergendahl. Perhaps she already thought then that she was allowed to compete at home in Nyköping. Photo: Stina Stjernkvist / SVT

Nyköping can do this with the Second Chance. This is the third time the city receives the Melodifestivalen, every time for the Second Chance.

The first time the festival was in town was 2007. It was the premiere for Second Chance as a separate arena program.

Then we saw the super exciting duel between Sonja Aldén and Magnus Uggla. Christer Björkman had told Uggla that the artist would go to the final easily. But when it became duel against beautiful "Because you exist" it became even. So evenly that at last there were just over a thousand voices that separated the contributions. But Sonja was the one who went to the final.

Classic pictures from when Sonja Aldén knocked out Magnus Uggla in the Second Chance 2007 and secured the final place with "For you to exist". Photo: Janerik Henriksson / TT

When the Melodifestivalen came to Nyköping for the second time in 2012, it became a completely different kind of drama. In the middle of the broadcast, the sound in the arena disappeared. The TV viewers were able to enjoy the program as usual, but in the speakers in the arena, it was completely silent for much of the program. Despite this, the audience kept quiet in place, and many of the TV viewers noticed nothing.

Since then, the well-known Nyköping public has a special place in the heart of Melodifestival production.

From Nyköping also several artists who have made an impression in the history of the Melody Festival. Festival winner Anna Bergendahl comes from here and has home ground this week, and so does last year's finalist Renaida.

Second chance in Nyköping: So the duels will be

• Duel 1: Andreas Johnson against Anna Bergendahl

• Duel 2: Vlad Reiser against Nano

• Duel 3: Martin Stenmarck against Lisa Ajax

• Duel 4: Rebecka Karlsson v Arvingarna

In the duel, a third one always meets four, and two entries that have been in the same competition cannot meet each other. All voting data are presented in the Expert Blog the week after the final.

In the Second Chance Program, production this time plans to present all winners at the end of the program, as well as 2016 and 2017.

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[mfsescsweden]

MELODIFESTIVALEN 2019 I VECKAN: SÅ BLIR ANDRA CHANSEN I NYKÖPING

Låtskrivarna Thomas G:son, Bobby Ljunggren och Erik Bernholm tillsammans med en Andra chansen-jublande Anna Bergendahl. Kanske tänkte hon redan då på att hon får tävla hemma i Nyköping. Foto: Stina Stjernkvist/SVT

Nyköping kan det här med Andra chansen. Det här är tredje gången staden tar emot Melodifestivalen, alla gånger för Andra chansen.

Första gången festivalen var i stan var 2007. Det var premiären för Andra chansen som ett eget arenaprogram.

Då såg vi den superspännande duellen mellan Sonja Aldén och Magnus Uggla. Christer Björkman hade sagt till Uggla att artisten skulle gå till final enkelt. Men när det blev duell mot vackra ”För att du finns” blev det jämnt. Så jämnt att det till sist bara var drygt tusen röster som skilde bidragen åt. Men Sonja var den som gick till finalen.

Klassiska bilder från när Sonja Aldén slog ut Magnus Uggla i Andra chansen 2007 och säkrade finalplatsen med ”För att du finns”. Foto: Janerik Henriksson/TT

När Melodifestivalen kom till Nyköping för andra gången 2012 blev det helt annan sorts dramatik. Mitt under sändningen försvann ljudet i arenan. Tv-tittarna kunde njuta av programmet som vanligt, men i högtalarna i arenan var det helt tyst under en stor del av programmet. Trots det höll publiken sig lugn på plats, och många av tv-tittarna märkte inget.

Sedan dess har den välartade Nyköpingspubliken en särskilt plats i Melodifestivalproduktionens hjärta.

Från Nyköping kommer också flera artister som har gjort avtryck i Melodifestivalens historia. Festivalvinnaren Anna Bergendahl kommer härifrån och har hemmaplan den här veckan, och det gör också fjolårsfinalisten Renaida.

Andra chansen i Nyköping: Så blir duellerna

• Duell 1: Andreas Johnson mot Anna Bergendahl

• Duell 2: Vlad Reiser mot Nano

• Duell 3: Martin Stenmarck mot Lisa Ajax

• Duell 4: Rebecka Karlsson mot Arvingarna

I duelläggningen möter alltid en trea en fyra, och två bidrag som varit i samma deltävling kan inte möta varandra. All röstningsdata presenteras i Expertbloggen veckan efter finalen.

I Andra chansen-programmet planerar produktionen den här gången att presentera alla vinnare i slutet av programmet, liksom 2016 och 2017.

[rebeckalindahl]

"I'm not out of it... I'm in it... you put me here..." she mumbled but she wasn't even coherent. She was slipping off to sleep with Henry at her feet.

She wasn't a person who was often sick, but over the last few months she had seemed to catch every little bug that passed by her. Her mother told her that it was the stress, that she should meditate and take extra vitamin c and exercise harder but Rebecka didn't listen. She was just trying to survive.

This was probably the 3 rd fever she had had in 3 months. The last time she was alone in her cabin and all she had was hot water and some stale crackers. That fever had lasted only 24 hours.

She cuddled down into the blanket and made soft moans as she exhaled. Somehow it made the fever bearable.

Henry cautiously crept from her feet to her side and he looked at her with his head down. He didn't like this one little bit.

His tongue found her hand and he gently licked her, hoping she would stop making that noise that was scaring him.

Rebecka opened her eyes just a slit and saw that poor dog looking at her.

"I'm sorry Henry," she said weakly. "I ruined our fun day. I'll try to be more quiet."

Her hand reached up to pet the dog and he cuddled next to her, letting her drape her arm over his soft fur as he kept her warm.

She tried to settle in, but her head was pounding. She needed water.

"Water... please..." she mumbled. She had done the same the last she had been sick, but this time it wasn't to an empty house.

Henry sat up and licked her hand again before jumping off the bed and hurrying to Magnus.

When he got to the kitchen he looked from Magnus back toward Rebecka's room, trying to communicate that the strange girl in the other room needed more than just Henry cuddles.

The Neighbor

Part 1

The first time he saw it, he thought he was having a nightmare.

He was holding a cup of coffee up to his lips, about to take a sip, watching the new neighbor stand at the stump between their houses where they split the logs for their fires.

She was smallish, thin but moderately athletic. Her shoulders were broad, but her hips were slim.

So when she picked up the axe, he expected her to be pretty strong. I mean, you need to be strong to split wood.

Magnus had been doing it his whole life, he had almost always lived in the country. But the new neighbor... there was something soft about her, something...sad but a little bit angry.

Perhaps it was the way she gripped the wooden handle of the axe, or the way she set her jaw as she tried to pick up a piece of wood that would even give Magnus a challenge.

And there were other pieces of wood for her to pick up, but she was set on that one.

Magnus took a small sip of coffee and watched her struggle to set the large log on the stump.

"No, don't do it..." he whispered into his quiet cabin.

He watched her take a deep breath and step back, lift the axe... and then bring it down on the log.

Magnus winced and sucked air in through his teeth as her whole body reverberated with the shock of the impact. And the log remained unsplit, unfazed by her attempt.

"Shit," he whispered.

He watched as the new neighbor let the axe fall to the ground and wrapped her arms around herself as she walked back to her cabin, obviously in pain.

"Didn't anybody teach you how to split wood?" he said, as if he wasn't talking to his empty cabin, as if he was talking to her.

He shook his head and watched her go inside her door and then he went to sit down.

The next morning, he went out to split some wood. He moved the large log she had put there the night before. He had no idea if she was watching him, but he hoped she was. He chose a small log, he tapped the axe into the top of it and then he picked up the wood with the axe and tapped it hard a few times on the stump until it split into two pieces. He did it again, and again, and again.

He dared not look at her cabin, but he hoped she could see him and she would know better what to do the next time she needed wood.

Then he split a few larger logs, maybe a few more than he needed to, leaving some for her to split like he had at first. It was how his father had taught him when he was small.

She watched him from her window, tears in her eyes. And the tears weren't because she couldn't split wood, and they weren't because her arms and back were still sore from the last time she had tried. Salty tears rolled down her cheeks as she watched the neighbor split the wood, her mind filled with everything she had lost, the life she didn't have anymore.

[rebeckalindahl]

Every Time They Said Goodbye

The first time they said goodbye, Rebecka couldn't have been happier. She didn't like him, and he definitely didn't like her. It was one of her first times serving for a party, and everything had gone wrong.

She had mistaken him for another server and asked him to help her balance a tray. When he stared at her blankly, she may(she did) or may not have made a snide comment to him about his slowness in helping her. And then one of the other servers called him 'Chef', and Rebecka wanted to melt into the floor.

He did help her balance the tray, a very annoyed look on his face... or maybe that was just his face.

The rest of the night he avoided her, and she him. She tried to apologize at the end of the night, before she said goodbye, but he wouldn't even look at her.

So she stopped talking, said goodbye, and tried to shake off the terrible feeling in the pit of her stomach.

The second time they said goodbye, the feeling in the pit of her stomach was far worse. She had been working as a server, she had learned to identify the Chef, and she thought she was in the clear. The chef that night was a woman.

So when she saw him in an expensive suit, a perfectly trimmed beard, and quite possibly the most extravagant and ridiculous car Rebecka had ever seen in person, her heart fell.

He was a guest.

And then to make it worse he locked eyes with her, and a slow smile spread across his handsome face. He looked at her... like he was seeing her for the first time. So she avoided him all night, trying not to catch him looking at her, which he did more often that she cared to admit.

It was while she was serving dessert, he approached her, smiled at her slyly, and generally seemed to not have any idea who she was. He crossed his arms as he spoke and Rebecka tried not to meet his eyes, which seemed to annoy him.

"So you think I'm ugly?" he whispered as he leaned into her.

Rebecka moved away and looked at him. Maybe this was his way of getting back at her.

"My name is Ansgar, and I shouldn't be bothering you while you work."

Her eyes grew wide. The Chef's name wasn't Ansgar, she was sure of it. So was he playing a game?

She offered him dessert, and served it as he smiled at her, perhaps a little confused how she could resist him. He didn't bother her again until the end of the evening when he offered her his card and said goodbye to her.

Rebecka watched him leave and she shook her head.

The third time they said goodbye, she had spilled sauce on her shirt with the very first tray she took. The head server grabbed a shirt for her and told her to go into the walk in fridge and change.

She was cursing to herself as she slipped her shirt off over her head, and that's when she heard the door open. She gasped as he gasped, her arms over her head, tangled in her stained white blouse.

"What the f-" she heard him say as she slammed her arms down to cover herself.

"Shit!" Rebecka said as she wheeled around, stammering that she was just changing her shirt.

"In my refrigerator?" the Chef said as he turned around and beat a hasty retreat.

Rebecka growled at her luck and changed as quickly as she could.

When she came out of the fridge, he was standing, his arms crossed, looking up, so as not to meet her eyes.

"Look, I"m sorry. I just needed to change and the head server told me to use the fridge... and I..."

But he waved her off, his clean shaven face slightly pink.

"You shaved," she said as he passed her and he turned to her, his brow furrowed.

"What?" he said as he came closer to her. He had no idea what this woman's problem was, and why he was the one who seemed to be dealing with it for a second time. His blue eyes flashed at her, ready to deflect some sort of twisted comeback.

But Rebecka hadn't meant anything by it. She was clearly confused.

"You shaved. Last week, you had a beard. I'm... " he was looking at her like she was crazy and she had to get back to serving, "okay, sorry Chef." And she rushed away.

At the end of the night she raised her hand to say goodbye to him from across the room. He rushed to her and handed her her stained shirt she had left in the fridge. It was folded, but she could see it was wet.

"You left this, I... I treated the stain. It never would have come out unless it was treated..."

His voice was different from when he had the beard, softer, quieter...

"Tack," she said as she reached for the shirt and her hand brushed his. She hesitated before she said goodbye.

The forth time they said goodbye, she told him her name, she apologized for all the times she had caused a problem. She told him she was new to serving and working around food, and his blue eyes seemed to soften.

"I'm glad to finally meet you Rebecka, my name is Magnus," he said before they parted.

And then there was the fifth time, when he laughed at seeing her at another one of his events.

"Keeping your shirt on this time?" he joked to her.

"Hopefully!" she quipped. The night went by quickly.

As they were saying goodbye, Rebecka asked him why he had told her his name as Ansgar before.

"I... I didn't. Ansgar is my brother, my twin. How do you know Ansgar?" he asked, now his turn to feel a pit in his stomach.

"Your brother? And he has a beard, and expensive taste in clothes and cars?" she asked as she took a step toward him.

His eyes were large as he nodded and then the story came tumbling out of Rebecka's mouth.

"He didn't..."

"No, I thought he was you. I thought you were just getting me back for not knowing you were the chef."

Magnus smiled that she would think that he would even be able to pull off being his brother.

"Uh, no. I haven't pretended to be my brother since we were 8."

There was some awkward smiles and shifting on their feet before saying goodbye.

And then there was the last time. He greeted her and smiled at her all night, his shy glances making Rebecka giggle.

At the end of the service, he ran to catch up to her after she waved to him.

"So... uh... Rebecka... would you like to go get some dinner with me tomorrow? We don't have any events and I would offer to cook but I'm a little tired of cooking at the moment and I'll cook for you some other time but... I don't know," she said as she ran his hand through his hair and looked down. "If you are free..."

Rebecka inhaled a deep breath as he rambled. She could feel the business card in her pocket, the card his brother had given her, that she had never used, but never discarded either.

"Sure," she said as she crumpled up the card in her pocket. "I'm free. I would like that."

They said goodbye with a plan to meet the next day for dinner.

And the next time they were together, there was no goodbye, there was only a good night.

[rebeckalindahl]

Hungry

The noise woke him.

They had only gone to sleep a very short while ago. They had gone to bed earlier... but the sleeping only happened after a fair amount of activity. Still, it couldn't have been long since they fell asleep.

He turned over in the bed, not feeling her there next to him, and he had a moment of panic.

Where is she? She was here... is someone in the house? Why isn't she asleep? AM I DREAMING ALL OF THIS?

His police training took over at that point and he blinked and pushed himself up off the bed, grabbing his boxers and putting them on quickly and quietly, all the while listening to the soft sounds in the kitchen.

"What the hell?" he whispered as he moved carefully down the hallway toward the kitchen door.

He narrowed his eyes as he peeked around the door frame, and then he saw her. Her small frame was wearing his dress shirt loosely draped around her and she was facing the counter, her back to the door. Her hair was a mess and she was barefoot. He watched her for a small moment, trying to get his bearings, to figure out what she was doing.

"Bec?" he said cautiously as he entered the kitchen.

His voice made her jump and she might have let out a little scream. Spaghetti flew off her fork and landed all over the counter and the floor.

"Magnus! You scared the shit out of me!" she said as she covered her heart with her hand.

"What are you doing?" he said as he came toward her.

"I'm just... I was just..." she started while trying to clean up the evidence. She was not going to talk her way out of this.

"I was hungry, okay?" and she reached for a towel to clean up the mess.

"But we ate a few hours ago, and I saved that for your lunch tomorrow..."

"I WAS HUNGRY."

Magnus reached for her and the towel, taking it from her hand as he rubbed her arm.

"I got this, it's okay. Bec, you can eat anything you want. I'm not mad. I'm just surprised. I woke up and you weren't there and then I heard the noise in the kitchen."

He wiped the counter and picked up the spaghetti that had fallen on the floor, kneeling in front of her as he did.

She had a flustered look on her face when he looked up at her and he softened.

"Do you want something else? I can make you an egg?"

He didn't have to go to work in the morning, and he had never seen her like this before.

"No, no. I'm sorry I woke you up. I thought you would stay asleep after..."

She wasn't used to having leftovers in the house being that she never cooked for herself.

"It's a side effect of the job, I'm a light sleeper most of the time."

Rebecka nodded and looked down at the small amount of spaghetti that was left in the container.

"There isn't enough for lunch tomorrow."

Magnus chuckled.

"We can order something, or we can go out."

He washed his hands and then came back to her.

"Are you sure you are okay?"

"Just embarrassed," she said quietly as she looked down.

Magnus threw his head back in a silent laugh and then looked down at her.

"You never need to be embarrassed about being hungry. And you can eat anything in the kitchen, okay?"

He tilted her chin up to look at him.

"Okay."

"Okay," he said with a smile. "Now," he put his hands on her waist and moved her to walk in front of him. "Back to bed with you, because now I'm hungry. You wearing my shirt does things to me..."

Rebecka leaned back into him and laughed as they made their way back to the bedroom.

[rebeckalindahl]

When You Walked By

“Please, Rebecka, set them up,” her mother said as she gestured to the crates and the wheelbarrow and the antique metal milk jugs.

Rebecka looked up from her book, her long hair still a veil all around her face.  This was supposed to be her holiday, her break from college before going back to finish.  But instead of being able to sit and read and drink tea and take walks and swim at twilight, Rebecka was stuck in the small flower shop on the high street of the small country town where her parents had moved to get away from the city. Her mother had some health problems, and the doctors told her it would be good to get out of the city, and out of the legal business.  The stress was not helping her health.

So the family had moved, all but Rebecka who was almost finished with University, and her mother had opened up a flower shop in this small out of the way town.

Unfortunately, her mother was trying to run the small shop like she had run the law office, her overseeing every detail... which sor tof defeated the purpose of getting out of the law business. And so Rebecka had offered to come and help out.  But working with her mother had it’s challenges.

“Rebecka, move those plants.  Rebecka, arrange these flowers better. Rebecka, why are you always reading, there are things to be cleaned and sorted and orders to be filled.”

Honestly, Rebecka was trying, but she just felt trapped, and all she wanted to do was rest and read and have a little fun maybe...but her mother needed the help.

“Okay, okay,” Rebecka said as she put her book down and took the instruction sheet from her mother.  She had to follow the detailed instructions on how this was to be set up, her mother reminded her.

She tried not to sigh as she took trip after trip bringing the crates and flowers and jugs and wheelbarrow out to the front of the shop. It was only when it was all out there that she realized she could have loaded everything in the wheelbarrow and only had to make one trip... but Rebecka wasn’t used to thinking like that.

With a deep long sigh, she pushed her golden hair out of her face and looked at all the things she needed to arrange.

 She was trying to read the instructions and balance two vases filled with flowers, and move one of the crates with her foot...when it all started to go wrong.

Her hair was in her face as one of the vases began to tip and she tried to catch it, and then the crate fell over, knocking over the plants that were on the ground.  And she didn’t have enough hands.

She may have made a small scream as the vase slipped from her fingers.

[rebeckalindahl]

The First Time

It was the first time something like this had ever happened, and it completely thew Rebecka for a loop.

They were showering together, for the first time, but that wasn't what was wrong. That, was very right. They were all giggles and hands and mouths and skin against slippery skin, it was delightful. And Magnus didn't have to go to work and they had two whole days together, uninterrupted. It was the first time for that too, but that also wasn't it.

"I'll get out first so you can wash me off of you..." he smiled down at her, his hands softly on her hips.

"What if I don't want to wash you off of me?" she retorted as she wrapped her arms around him and kissed him again.

Magnus melted slightly abut then pulled away and got out of the shower first, grabbing his towel and wrapping it around his waist before holding a hand out to Rebecka to help her out of the shower.

It was such a sweet thing to do, and seemingly so small, but it was one of the things she had fallen in love with Magnus for.

He did those small things all the time, and he didn't even really plan to. That's what made them so important, so special to Rebecka.

He had told her, very early on in their relationship that he was bad at relationships, that he was a bad boyfriend, but Rebecka never believed him. It was true, he was bad at remembering things sometimes, and he didn't make a fuss about things the way some men did, calling attention to their actions and making it seem as though they are so thoughtful but it's really just about getting attention for being thoughtful. Magnus was bad at that.

But he was so good at other things.

He always remembered to pick up her tea cup from the side table before they went to bed, he always held the door for her and placed his hand on the small of her back protectively as they walked together, he always made sure she had water with dinner and something to eat when she was hungry (even when she had no idea she was hungry), And then this, the very simple act of getting out of the shower and then, before drying himself off at all, he turned, his hand outstretched, to help her out of the shower.

God, she was so in love with this man.

He grabbed a towel for her as he moved over on the mat, making a space for her to stand very close to him.

Rebecka smiled as he wrapped the towel around her and then leaned in to kiss her.

"Enough of that," she whispered against his lips. "I'm soaking wet..."

Magnus smiled mischievously .

"I know. I like." His voice was almost a low growl and Rebecka laughed and pushed against his chest.

"Can you hand me my other towel?" she said as she began to dry her arms off.

Magnus furrowed his eyebrows, confused.

"You have a towel."

Rebecka looked up at him as she ran her hand down her hair, squeezing out the water and trying to catch the drips with the towel around her.

"I need my hair towel," she said to him, matter of fact.

Magnus looked at her blankly.

"Hair towel?"

"Yes, silly, I need another towel for my hair, otherwise it will drip all over me and I will never get dry."

Now it was Rebecka's turn to furrow her eyebrows at him.

"You know, a hair towel. A towel that you use to dry your hair. I wrap it around my head like a turban and let my hair dry a bit before I style it... a hair towel."

He didn't know.

"Don't you use a hair towel?" she asked as she reached up to his wet curls.

"I... um no."

He kissed her again softly and then turned to find the other towel she had put out for herself, handing it to her cautiously.

Rebecka smiled at him and then bent at the waist and flipped her hair over, wrapping the length of her golden locks in the fluffy towel.

"I have a special towel for this, it's a special material and it soaks up more water and makes my hair easier to dry..." she explained, but she stopped short when she saw Magnus putting on his shirt, his body still glistening and dripping wet, the towel around his waist barely used.

"Aren't you going to... dry off..." she asked, confused.

Magnus shrugged. "I'll dry off eventually." And then he smiled at her, seeing the way the large towel turban on her head pulled her skin on her face tight.

And that was the first time Rebecka realized that they had so much to learn about each other. They knew each other so intimately, but there was so much more to know.

Rebecka smiled at him. Now it made sense why he could get dressed so fast.

"I'll get some food together, sandwiches ?" he asked as he reached out to stroke her shoulder.

"Yes, please," she smiled at him and leaned up to kiss him.

A small droplet of water from his wet hair dripped onto her check and she laughed.

[rebeckalindahl]

One foot in front of the other

{{Okay, here is a little 2 part drabble for my sweet!  We haven’t done one of these in a long time!  You know what to do. I can’t wait to read the end!!! <3}}

Rebecka was up at 4 am. Magnus told her not to get up with him. He told her there was nothing for her to do and if she got up just before it was time to leave it would be fine, but she paid no attention to him.  She was so proud of him, and so excited for this achievement that she wanted to get up with him.

Magnus made his eggs and dry toast and drank his water and he made Rebecka some eggs with buttery toast as she sat and drank her coffee.

“Are you ready?” she asked him sleepily.  Magnus shook his head as he finished up the cooking.  He didn’t look over at her.

“As ready as I’ll ever be,” he said as he raised his eyebrows and sighed at the same time.  Rebecka couldn’t see his face, but she knew he would be doing that face.  She loved that face.

He put the eggs down in front of her and sat down to eat himself.  The kids were asleep and he had packed their breakfast for them to eat in the car.  They had cold pancakes from yesterday morning and fruit and small cups filled with juice and some knackebrod.  Rebecka would be in charge of their lunch.

“I’m proud of you, you know,” she said as she ate her food.

“Thanks Bec, but it’s really not that big of a deal,” he smiled over at her.

  It was one of the things he loved about her.  She made small things so important.  She made him feel like all those small things were big. For years he hadn’t even noticed the small things, but she reminded him.

“Yes, it is.  8 months ago you thought you couldn’t do it, and this morning, here you are.”

8 months ago he had come to her with this idea.  He wanted to get back into shape, not that he was terribly out of shape, but moreso than he had been most of his adult life.  The combination of 3 children and cooking and housework and Rebecka’s crazy schedule had made him tired and soft.    And he wanted to change that.  So he had looked into the marathon races closest to them. He prefaced the whole conversation by saying that he didn’t have to actually compete, that the training in itself was enough, but Rebecka wanted him to compete. She wanted him to see for himself that he could do this.  

So he had trained, nearly everyday for the last 8 months, rain or shine, hot or cold, busy or lazy, he had trained for this 42 kilometer race on the roadways and trails around Skane.  

And today was the day he was going to do it.

He shook his head but he couldn’t hide the smile on his face.

“I will be napping with the kids during the longest part of the race however,” she chuckled as she tapped his leg under the table with her foot.

He shook his head at her and then got up and kissed her on the top of the head while he went to wash up the dishes and then do some stretching before they went to the start of the race.

Rebecka woke the kids and gathered the signs they had made.  She gathered up the bells and whistles for the kids to cheer on the runners…and their papa.

They got to the race early, the little ones still snoozing in their seats as Rebecka leaned over and kissed Magnus, wishing him luck.

“We are going to have to advantage of this stamina you have built up,” she whispered to him and then kissed him again.

“Pervert,” he replied against her lips with a smile and then he was off to sign in.

When the race began, Rebecka and the kids placed themselves a little ahead of the runners so they could cheer him on.  His smile was wide as he saw Axel in a singlet that matched his own and a Bean and Ingrid wearing his number.

The race was crowded, but it was off to a good start.  He saw them one more time before the most remote part of the race as if left the roadway and headed along the cliffs by the sea.  It would be up and down for kilometers and Magnus knew it would be the toughest part. But his families cheers and excitement spurred him on as he waved and ran down the trail, only a few runners in front of and behind him.

Rebecka packed the kids into the car and they headed to where the runners would come back to the road in about an hour or so.  The kids ate the food Magnus had made them and they talked about how good Papa was doing on this long race.

[neverthesamelove]

Midsommar Missed

A/N-  This is just a little pre Magnus and Rebecka drabble because I always have a lot of feelings around midsommar.  It’s part of why they got married on midsommar too!  Enjoy and Glad Midsommar!

Rebecka held her phone at her ear, her index finger at her lips as she chewed on her poor defenseless cuticle.  She knew she shouldn’t have even answered the phone.

“Why didn’t you come? You said you would try to make it and I told Mama you were lying…she always believes you but I know you better Becka…” Kristina chastised.

Rebecka inhaled a slow deep breath as she bit a little too close to the quick of her nail and she pulled her sore finger out of her mouth.

“I did try.  It’s just…work…” Rebecka began, but her sister would let her finish.

“It’s always work with you Becka.”

Stina spent the next 3 minutes telling her sister off, but it didn’t matter to Rebecka.  Stina couldn’t possibly make her feel any worse than she already did.

“You’re alone and it’s your fault.  You could be here!  You could be drunk and dancing and…you could be here, but you are stuck in Stockholm with all the other losers who wouldn’t get out of town.”

Rebecka held her breath. Her sister could be cruel, but she did love her, she just didn’t understand her very well.  They were too different

“Whatever.  I mean, you could still drive out here and be her by 7…”

Silence on the phone.

“But you won’t. Whatever Rebecka.  Alone.  That’s what you are.  That’s the choice you make. Live with it.”

And Stina hung up the phone.

Rebecka finally let out a sigh and she swallowed hard.

Her sister could be cruel.

But she was right, in a small way.

Rebecka was alone.  It was a choice.  She chose work, over everything, over Lukas, over her family, over friends. Over everything.

She could feel the tears sting her eyes as she got off her bed and finished getting dressed.

The streets were empty, eerily empty on Midsommar morning.  She had time to get breakfast, there was no one in the café but for the few people working.  On her way to the office she passed a flower shop and she stopped in to buy flowers to make a flower crown.

She overlooked the ready made flower crowns, it seemed just too sad to not even make her own flower crown on the first Midsommar she was alone.

The florist was kind and helped her pick out flowers in purples and whites and pinks, and a white daisy with a bright yellow center.

“It looks like the sun,” Rebecka smiled at the florist.  The florist chuckled and looked out the window at the clouds that seemed to be gathering quickly.

“The first downpour of the day is on it’s way,” the florist said.

Rebecka looked out the window and a small bunch of wild flowers caught her eye.

“What are these?” she asked as she walked and picked up the small bunch of flowers.  They were very unassuming, but pretty in their plainness.

“Those are twinflowers and wood crane’s bill, and common valerian, just weeds really.”

Rebecka held the flowers in her hand and she felt tears come to her eyes again.  She had made bouquets like the bunch in her hand many times over the years.  There were many midsommar’s where she was young and carefree and making flower crowns and eating strawberry cake and dancing with her family.  Her father would always bar b que and she loved to watch him cook and listen to him talk about how he wished he could do more cooking at home.

But perhaps those days were over.  She wasn’t as young as she used to be, she had just graduated from University.  She wasn’t carefree anymore, and she hardly ever got to stand with her father and watch him bar b que and listen to him talk about how delicious the meat was going to be.

“You can have them, they suit you,” the florist said kindly when she saw the tears in her eyes.  “Put them under your pillow tonight with a few flowers from your crown.  Seven, you need seven kinds of flowers, and maybe you will dream of the person you will marry,” she said brightly.

Rebecka only smiled sadly.

“I think it takes a little more than flowers under your pillow to meet the person you will marry. I think…” she shook her head, “ maybe going on dates might be more helpful.”

Rebecka chuckled and cleared the sadness from her eyes.

It was her choice, it was always her choice.

“I don’t know, dates can be with the wrong one sometimes.  Maybe if you dream of them, you will move in their direction,” the florist said as she wrapped the flowers in newsprint and handed them to Rebecka.  Rebecka tucked the small bouquet of wildflowers into the paper cone and paid the woman.

“Glad Midsommar,” she said as she paid the woman and walked out of the shop.

At the office, she and an intern made themselves flower crowns on their lunch break.  She felt better wearing the wreath of flowers, even if she was stuck at work.

It poured on her on her way home, but the streets were even more empty than they had been in the morning.

“Midsommar Eve,” she said to herself as she grabbed a quick dinner at the market.  There was one slice of strawberry cake left in the bakery case.  It was a little worse for wear, but Rebecka bought it anyway.

Her father sent her a picture of his kebobs, and Rebecka had to fight not to cry as she sat in her empty apartment.  The city was silent and strange, but it was such a lovely evening, Rebecka left the window open.

She worked for a few more hours, finishing up a story she had been working on all week, and then she was showering and heading to bed.

But before she went to bed she took out a few flowers from her flower crown and the wild flowers the florist had given her.  It seemed stupid, and she looked at the flowers for a long time before she picked out seven to put under her pillow.

A twinflower, wood crane’s bill, common valerian, a red poppy, a buttercup, chamomile, and a forget me not.

She placed them under her pillow, the pink, the purple, the white, yellow and red and the blue of the forget me not, so deep and cool, like the still surface of a lake in winter.

She made a small face as she covered up the flowers and she lay down, closing her eyes, weary from the day, even though it hadn’t been particularly strenuous.  

She should have been in the countryside with her family eating and laughing.  She should have been dancing with her sister and smiling at the men she would try to hook Rebecka up with.  They were never the right sort of man for Rebecka, but at least her sister was trying.

Rebecka fell asleep with a small tear at the corner of her eye.

But she dreamed of a man, somewhere by a lake, and though she couldn’t see his face, she could see his blond curls as they sprang at the nape of his neck.  She could almost feel them curl around her finger as she reached out and freed them from the collar of his blue and white striped dress shirt. And she was warm, so very warm with him near her.

Rebecka woke with the early midsommar sun bathing her in it’s golden warmth.

He was out there, at least she hoped he was out there, the one who she was looking for. She just hadn’t found him yet.

But it was a choice, and Rebecka made hers.

She called into work and took the day off and she drove to where her parents and her sister were staying in the country.  She had missed Midsommar, but she wouldn’t miss it again.

“I’m sorry I called you a loser,” her sister said as she hugged her.  “ You’re not a loser, I’m just mean and bitter,” she joked.  Rebecka laughed.  “You missed all the hot men last night,” Stina whispered to her sister.

Rebecka only smiled.

“Not all the hot men. I had a pretty good dream last night.”

Stina gasped and locked her arm with her sisters.

“Tell me everything…”

But Rebecka only smiled.

“No, you tell me about the hot men I missed,” she whispered as her sister handed her a coffee.

[neverthesamelove]

Winter Solstice ( The Longest Night)

A/N- Here is a little Magnus and Rebecka AU where Magnus is an undercover agent and he meets Rebecka while on a case but they can’t see each other until after the case is solved. I’m sorry, I never get tired of writing them.

Magnus gulped.  It was time.  He knew it was time.  He had been dreading this moment since the second he walked into the small  warm cabin. 

 He was a mess, his hair too long and curling all over his head in a way that gave him headaches and made him look like some mad scientist.  His beard was long enough to become soft, like the downy fur of a large golden retriever.  But somehow, Rebecka didn’t seem to notice any of that.

She looked at him with the same eyes she had looked at him with in Ystad, and Stockholm, and Malmo…she looked at him and it made him ache.

But she wasn’t his, she had never been his.

“Thank you…for the vodka,” he said and he moved with resolve to leave her and not look back.  He only took two steps and she had him, pulling his body to hers and wrapping her arms around his shoulders as she buried her face in his shoulder.

His eyes showed surprise, but he didn’t resist her in any way.  His arms knew how to hold her, his nose knew the smell of her hair and the soft perfume of her skin.  His body knew hers, as hers knew his.

The room fell away and they both closed their eyes as they swayed ever so slightly with each other, as if there was music playing, as if they were each others only comfort.

And she was his, though he couldn’t admit it just yet.

It had been so long, so long since someone had held him like that.

He hadn’t expected it from her tonight, but if he was honest, it didn’t surprise him either. She looked at him with those eyes, with that longing, with the weight of every unspoken, unacknowledged emotion that was written all over her face.

Rebecka pulled him tighter to her, breathing him in as his hand moved up her back and he felt the thin strap of her bra under her sweater.

He shouldn’t want to unfasten it, should he?

As quickly as she had captured him, her hand moved to the back of his head and she stroked his hair before pushing back and away from him, leaving a space between them again, the space that they had just shared now seeming like a chasm between them.

Her hand ran through her own hair, though all she could feel was his fluffy locks still between her fingers.

“It’s…uh… just really good to see you,” she said as she looked over at the bookshelves that lined the walls of her small cabin.

“It’s good to see you.”

His voice was quiet, and he was painfully aware that this was so much harder than he thought it would be. It didn’t matter all the times he had thought of her while they were apart, while he was working and she was here, in this place, writing and sipping tea…and hiding.  When he thought about her while they were apart, she was just a fantasy, just a soft gaze and an even softer body.  She was an angel that infuriated and intoxicated him at the same time.

But right here, right now, he could still feel her hand in his hair and her heartbeat against his chest. His body still swayed as if she were still in his arms.

“Magnus, you know I don’t drink vodka.”

The fire in the hearth popped and she looked directly at him.  The warm light bathed her face and hair in shades of gold and orange and reds, a sharp contrast to the cold wind, the blue air and snow outside the cabin door.

Magnus looked up at her, eyes wide like a child who had just figured out the entire riddle that had been plaguing him. She had vodka there for him, even though there was no warning of his visit, no plan for him ever to come to her there.  

But his brow furrowed, and his lips pulled tight across his face.

She was on him again in an instant, her lips on his, her body pressed against him.

He relaxed again immediately, his mouth following hers, his hands holding her waist.  It felt more normal to be attached this way to her than to be separate from her.  It felt like a dream…or maybe a wish…but it felt right.

She pulled back from him, breathless, but she didn’t let him go.  She looked onto his eyes, her own eyes resolved.

“You should stay here, with me.  The case is finished. And it’s dark...  No more excuses.”

Her hands played with his hair, but she still wasn’t sure he would do as she asked.  She still wasn’t sure what to believe.

“Stay… please…” she said as her eyes searched his.  His face was so familiar to her, she could see him with her eyes closed.  She had for months, seen him every time she closed her eyes, every time she looked out at the trees or into the fire.

“Stay.”

Magnus couldn’t resist her. She was right. The case was finished. He had done more than his share of work. He was on leave for at least a month…and maybe that’s why he had come to her here.  Maybe he knew that he wanted to stay with her, he just didn’t have the strength to be the one to say it first.

But she had vodka when she didn’t drink it, ever. 

 She wanted him there.

He looked down and into her eyes, hardly able to believe this was really happening to him.  It took all his strength to not gulp again, but he nodded and leaned in to kiss her again, this time at his speed.

“Do you need more wood for the fire?” he whispered as he rested his forehead against hers.

Rebecka smiled and moved her hand to cup his flushed cheeks.

“I think there is another way you can keep warm.”

She stepped back, her hands sliding down his arms and finding his hands and she led him to the bedroom.

[rebeckalindahl]

The Squeal

Magnus was on his hands and knees when Rebecka came into the room.  He was looking under the bed and Rebecka had to look away when she saw him.

He heard her but he didn’t look up at her.

“Beeeec...”

“Yes, darling?” Rebecka answered as she put away her necklace in her jewelry box.

Magnus exhaled loudly.  It was the sweetness in her voice and he knew she had done it.

He knelt up and rested his hands on the bed as he looked over at his wife.

“Where are my slippers?”

Rebecka tried her best to keep her face impassive (but she failed).

“Hmmm.  I have no idea,” she said as she moved to leave the room before she broke out laughing.

Magnus was up like a shot and he was moving to intercept her before she got out of the room.

“Bec!”

But Rebecka scooted past him and she rushed down the stairs, hoping to get to the bottom before he caught her.

“I have no id....” she said as she took the steps, but he was right behind her, his laugh echoing in the stairway.

His hands caught her waist  as she stepped on the landing and she turned and let out a loud squeal as she grabbed his strong arms.

Magnus pulled her close to him and his laugh filled the whole house.

“Now I know where Ingrid gets her squeal...” he said as he wrapped his arms around her tightly.

“You are not going anywhere until you tell me where my slippers are.”

Rebecka smiled up at him, leaning up and kissing him on the lips.

Magnus was smiling at his wife but narrowing his eyes at her.

“You are a wicked woman,” he said as he pulled her closer and pressed her body against his. 

 It was just at that moment when he saw Viktoria scurry by them, his slippers in her small hands and Henry trotting at her side.

“You recruited the children and the dog???” he laughed and then he was kissing Bec and letting go of her to run after Viktoria, whose squeal also sounded a lot like Rebecka’s.

[neverthesamelove]

2 Weeks Later

It was her first day out of bed after coming home with the twins.  She hadn’t really expected the kind of recovery she was going to have to go through after having a c- section birth. She had been mostly back to her old self a few days after having Viktoria…but with Axel and Ingrid…it was 2 weeks.

Magnus had been amazing, cooking and cleaning and taking care of everyone.  He would change the babies after they nursed and hold the one that was waiting for food or was too fussy to eat just yet.

They had help.  His mother came.  She cooked and took care of Viktoria and held the babies, but Rebecka sometimes thought it was more stressful for Magnus when she was there. She would see the look on his face when she corrected the amount of salt he put in a dish he was cooking, or the way he dressed the babies.  She was only trying to help, and it was just the way she was.

Rebecka’s mother and father had come to stay too, for a few days.  And that was another kind of stress.  They deferred everything to Magnus, though she remembered her mother walking Magnus into the bedroom after the babies were asleep and tucking him into bed and giving him a scolding finger when he tried to say something about the laundry needing to be done.  He had looked over at Rebecka and asked if she was feeling alright and when her hand moved to comb through his hair, he was already asleep.

The first two weeks were a blur.

But Rebecka was feeling better, less sore, and her wound was healing nicely.

So she was up and folding laundry with her sister who had come to stay for  2 days.  Stina was talking about the babies small clothes as she folded them, talking about how she remembered her girls wearing such small clothes, when suddenly it hit Rebecka.

She was holding one of his blue shirts, one he had had since before she met him.  It was in fine shape, it was a good quality shirt, but as she looked at it, tears filled her eyes.  Her hands tensed on the shoulders of the shirt as she held it up and she was nearly shaking when her sister looked up at her and stopped talking.

“Becka…what’s…are you okay?” Rebecka’s nostrils flared and her face flushed red.

“I hate this shirt.”

Stina furrowed her brow as she looked at her younger sister.

“Oooookay…”

Rebecka looked up at her sister and gritted her teeth.

“I fucking hate this shirt,” she said as the tears streamed down her face and her voice trembled.

“Becka…why?  I mean…” and she looked at her sister quizzically.

“EPAULETS!!!!!  IT HAS EPAULETS!!!  WHO BUYS A SHIRT WITH EPAULETS???”

Stina turned and looked toward the kitchen where Magnus was making a snack.

“Becka, don’t get upset, don’t…”

Stina took the shirt from her and she folded it quickly and put it behind her back.  In an instant Stina knew what was wrong.

She bounded up from the sofa and she moved to hug her sister.

“I’ll fold the rest. You and Magnus should go…go for a walk around the garden, or down the driveway and maybe to the corner, okay? You need to get out of the house. I’ll stay here with the babies and Viktoria.  Just 10 minutes, okay?”

Rebecka was still crying, unable to nod or agree, though she would do what her sister asked.

“I’m getting Magnus.”

Stina rushed into the kitchen where Magnus turned to see her coming toward him.

“Take her for a walk,” Stina said as she grabbed his arm and dragged him away from the fruit he was cutting up.  “She’s had a hormone crash.  She needs to walk.  Just take her down the driveway, to the corner, around the garden.”

Magnus didn’t have a chance to protest.  He tried, his mouth open and his eyes wide as Stina pushed him out to where Rebecka was sitting and crying, her body hunched over, her hair hanging around her like a veil. Magnus switched into gear, forgetting that her sister was pushing him, forgetting the fruit he had been cutting.

“Bec, alskling…come here,” he said as he knelt in front of her and gathered her in his arms.  She fell against him, letting him wrap his strong arms around her.  She cried into his shoulder and then she was sniffling.  “Let’s go for a little stroll, okay?” he said as he dried her wet cheeks.

Rebecka stood up with his help and she held onto him.  Before Magnus got to the door with her, Stina was running up behind him and pulling his head down so she could whisper in his ear, which was a shock to Magnus in the first place.  

He blinked as Stina whispered in his ear, “Don’t mention epaulets…”

Magnus pulled away from Stina, looking down at her like she was insane (and if he was honest, he looked at her like that a lot).  He reached up and rubbed his ear, and nodded his head at her.

Stina only sighed and closed the door after them.

They were halfway down the driveway, Magnus’ arms around Rebecka as she took small careful steps, when he said, “It’s alright Bec.  It’s just the pregnancy hormones.  Just…take some deep breaths and walk with me…”

Magnus was about to ask about the epaulets, but he stopped himself.

They walked down the drive, and onto the sidewalk and down to the corner of their street.  One the way back to the house, Rebecka’s crying subsided.

“I’m sorry,” she said as she looked up at him and dried her tears.

“You have nothing to be sorry for,” Magnus said as he smiled down at her.

“Yes, I do.” Rebecka looked away from him.  “I hate that blue shirt you have with the epaulets.  I hate it.  You don’t wear it very often…but I hate it Magnus.”

She looked up at him and he was staring down at her while they walked.

“O-okay.  Sgar got me that shirt, after I got out of the academy. I’ve had that shirt for a long time.”

He had his arm around her waist, and he was holding her hand in his other hand.

“Is there any reason? It’s blue, you always like me in blue…”

“I love you in blue!” she said as her voice raised up and echoed off the garden path.  “It’s…it’s the epaulets…I just can’t…”

Magnus’ eyes got large. He wasn’t going to understand this, at least not right now.  He sighed.

“Okay, okay.  I’ll… I can put it away…or maybe…I’ll donate it… I could use some new shirts anyway.”

Rebecka had slowed down and she clutched onto his hand as they walked.

“Listen, I want you to go up to bed when we go back inside.  I’ll bring the babies in and Viktoria can bring you some fruit and a big glass of water.  It’s your first day up.  We don’t want to wear you out.”

He smiled down at his wife, pleased that she had stopped crying, but still worried about why she hated his shirt.  He didn’t really care if he never wore that shirt again, but it was strange.

After their turn around the garden, he led her inside and upstairs where he tucked her into bed. Viktoria skipped to get her the fruit that Stina had finished cutting up and Stina brought Baby Axel in as Magnus brought in Ingrid.

The family sat together and ate fruit while the newborm babies nursed and slept.

That night, Rebecka dreamed of the first time she met Magnus in that cold harsh conference room.  She dreamed of his back to her, his blue shirt pulled tight across his back as he crossed his arms in front of his chest and he looked out the window.  She dreamed of the small pieces of fabric at his shoulders and the way they bent and lifted slightly as he tensed his muscles.

She couldn’t change it. She couldn’t escape it.

She awoke to the sound of Ingrid fussing and wanting to nurse.  Magnus was already up before Rebecka was even awake and he was bringing her the baby.

He was wearing his Joy Division shirt.  He wouldn’t wear the blue shirt with the epaulets anymore.  She reached up and held his face.

“I love you,” she whispered. She could see him smile in the dim light of their bedroom.

“You better,” he quipped and then he was going to check on Axel and Viktoria and leaving Rebecka to feed Ingrid.