iwritesmutnottragedy

[iwritesmutnottragedy]

The day had felt like it was going to last forever. The minutes dragged by painfully slow and her anxiety manifested in distracting stomach cramps and a headache that throbbed behind her eyes. It was always like this on the last day of a job but like a fool she had convinced herself that maybe this time it would be different.

It never was.

A large crowd had lingered in her booth in order to escape the sun and the buzzing energy that came from the tightly packed bodies had been nearly suffocating. Liona had fought to keep her composure as her emotions were thrown from one extreme to the next.

She had collapsed the moment that the last person left. The sudden lack of oppressive energy was just as jarring and despite her best efforts to contain her odd abilities, Liona felt herself release a burst of energy strong enough to cause the electricity for the next couple of blocks to flicker.

Lost in a sea of sensory overload, it took her a moment to register the soft touch against her arm or the concerned voice not far from her. Liona wiped at her eyes and squinted up at the stranger, bracing herself for the usual discomfort she felt with others…but it never came.

Her dark brows drew together in confusion. “…I don't understand.”

Ghosts in the Crowd

Ken hated crowds.

Not in the way that someone might claim to hate traffic or long grocery lines—his was the kind of hatred that sat coiled in his gut like a live wire, sparking against his ribs, waiting for an excuse to strike. Crowds meant too many people looking. Too many moving bodies. Too much heat, too much noise. And too many damned eyes staring at him.

Jack and Briony had dragged him here, insisting a festival would be fun. That he needed to relax. He wasn’t sure when his brother had started believing in things like fun, but he suspected it had something to do with the tiny blonde dynamo currently tugging Jack toward a street performer juggling fire.

Ken had followed, hands stuffed deep in the pockets of his cargo pants, jaw clenched as they wove through the throngs of people milling about the music and culture festival. The setting sun painted the streets in gold, and the air carried the thick scent of spiced food and warm pavement.

At first, he focused on the layout, tracking exits and points of cover—habit. He cataloged the shifting patterns of movement, the ebb and flow of the crowd, the telltale signs of someone watching too long or walking with the deliberate pace of someone with an agenda. That was comfortable. That was safe.

Then he caught the first stare.

A woman’s eyes widened as she passed him, gaze darting to the side of his face and the scars that ran like a roadmap over his cheek and jaw before she quickly looked away. A reflex. He was used to that reaction.

The second came from a kid, no older than six, who tugged at his father’s hand and whispered something, eyes round as quarters.

The third lingered. A man this time, middle-aged, with a beer in one hand and a bemused expression as if he were debating whether or not to ask Ken what happened to you?

Ken turned away before he had to find out.

His skin prickled, and something inside him twisted, deep and cold. He hated this. He hadn’t cared about the scars in years. Not really. Not in the way that mattered. They were just another part of him, as much a weapon as his enhanced strength, his training, his instincts.

But standing here, under the open sky, surrounded by people who had never had to fight to stay alive—people whose only scars came from accidents and bad choices, not torture—something about their glances made his pulse hammer harder than it should.

Jack and Briony had vanished ahead, lost in the sea of festival-goers. Ken turned in a slow circle, scanning for them, but the surge of people swallowed his line of sight.

Then, as if the city itself had inhaled, the power flickered.

The bright overhead string lights strung between vendor booths sputtered and dimmed before flaring back to life. The neon signs along the food stalls wavered, their glow shuddering like candle flames caught in an unseen draft. Even the speakers blaring rhythmic drums and the haunting croon of a singer warped for the briefest second, static bleeding through the sound.

The fine hairs on Ken’s arms stood up.

He knew this feeling.

It was the kind of static hum he felt when lightning was about to strike, or when one of his GhostWalker teammates was losing control of their enhancements. Except there were no GhostWalkers here. None that he knew of.

His heartbeat picked up, instincts screaming at him to move. He needed cover. Needed to be somewhere he could observe without being watched in return.

A canvas booth to his right stood partially open, the interior shadowed and still. He didn’t stop to read the sign or check what was being sold—he just ducked inside, moving with the same silent efficiency that had kept him alive in enemy territory more times than he could count.

The scent hit him first.

Warm. Soft. A strange blend of earth and something floral, something uniquely alive.

Ken tensed, his pulse tripping over itself as an immediate, animal part of him reacted to the scent like a match to dry tinder. His muscles locked, body instinctively cataloging the way his breathing deepened, the way his nerves flared in a way that had nothing to do with danger.

What the hell—

His eyes adjusted to the dim interior.

The booth was small, the back half curtained off, while the front displayed a variety of handcrafted jewelry and intricate artwork. Wooden crates had been flipped into makeshift shelves, stacked high with bracelets, rings, and pendants carved with swirling, hypnotic patterns. A delicate wire sculpture of a fox curled around itself, as if frozen mid-motion, caught his attention.

But Ken barely registered any of it.

Because behind the display, curled up on the floor, was a woman.

She was small, her knees drawn to her chest, arms wrapped around herself as if trying to disappear into the fabric of her own oversized sweater. Her thick, wild hair was a dark halo around her face, half-obscuring her features.

Her breathing was uneven. Too shallow.

Ken’s mind snapped into assessment mode, scanning for signs of injury. Shock? Hyperventilation? Panic attack? Something was wrong. He could feel it.

But it was like fighting through fog.

Because her scent was in his lungs now, winding around his senses like a noose, muddling every thought that wasn’t her.

Ken clenched his jaw, forcing himself to think past the instinctive pull. He wasn’t some teenager overcome by pheromones. He was a GhostWalker, for fuck’s sake. He was enhanced, disciplined, trained against biological manipulation.

So why did his body feel like it was zeroing in on her, every muscle coiled tight like he was standing on the edge of something inevitable?

He took a slow step forward.

Her fingers twitched where they gripped the fabric of her sweater, but she didn’t look up. Didn’t acknowledge him.

Ken exhaled through his nose, steadying himself.

“Hey,” he said, keeping his voice low, even. “You okay?”

No response.

His gut twisted. The power outside had flickered. The air still felt charged, humming at the edges of his awareness. And she—

His gaze flicked over her again, tracking the slight tremor in her shoulders, the tight way she held herself.

Something told him that whatever was wrong with her—it had everything to do with what just happened.

And that meant he needed to figure it out. Fast.

[iwritesmutnottragedy]

Ghosts in the Crowd

Ken hated crowds.

Not in the way that someone might claim to hate traffic or long grocery lines—his was the kind of hatred that sat coiled in his gut like a live wire, sparking against his ribs, waiting for an excuse to strike. Crowds meant too many people looking. Too many moving bodies. Too much heat, too much noise. And too many damned eyes staring at him.

Jack and Briony had dragged him here, insisting a festival would be fun. That he needed to relax. He wasn’t sure when his brother had started believing in things like fun, but he suspected it had something to do with the tiny blonde dynamo currently tugging Jack toward a street performer juggling fire.

Ken had followed, hands stuffed deep in the pockets of his cargo pants, jaw clenched as they wove through the throngs of people milling about the music and culture festival. The setting sun painted the streets in gold, and the air carried the thick scent of spiced food and warm pavement.

At first, he focused on the layout, tracking exits and points of cover—habit. He cataloged the shifting patterns of movement, the ebb and flow of the crowd, the telltale signs of someone watching too long or walking with the deliberate pace of someone with an agenda. That was comfortable. That was safe.

Then he caught the first stare.

A woman’s eyes widened as she passed him, gaze darting to the side of his face and the scars that ran like a roadmap over his cheek and jaw before she quickly looked away. A reflex. He was used to that reaction.

The second came from a kid, no older than six, who tugged at his father’s hand and whispered something, eyes round as quarters.

The third lingered. A man this time, middle-aged, with a beer in one hand and a bemused expression as if he were debating whether or not to ask Ken what happened to you?

Ken turned away before he had to find out.

His skin prickled, and something inside him twisted, deep and cold. He hated this. He hadn’t cared about the scars in years. Not really. Not in the way that mattered. They were just another part of him, as much a weapon as his enhanced strength, his training, his instincts.

But standing here, under the open sky, surrounded by people who had never had to fight to stay alive—people whose only scars came from accidents and bad choices, not torture—something about their glances made his pulse hammer harder than it should.

Jack and Briony had vanished ahead, lost in the sea of festival-goers. Ken turned in a slow circle, scanning for them, but the surge of people swallowed his line of sight.

Then, as if the city itself had inhaled, the power flickered.

The bright overhead string lights strung between vendor booths sputtered and dimmed before flaring back to life. The neon signs along the food stalls wavered, their glow shuddering like candle flames caught in an unseen draft. Even the speakers blaring rhythmic drums and the haunting croon of a singer warped for the briefest second, static bleeding through the sound.

The fine hairs on Ken’s arms stood up.

He knew this feeling.

It was the kind of static hum he felt when lightning was about to strike, or when one of his GhostWalker teammates was losing control of their enhancements. Except there were no GhostWalkers here. None that he knew of.

His heartbeat picked up, instincts screaming at him to move. He needed cover. Needed to be somewhere he could observe without being watched in return.

A canvas booth to his right stood partially open, the interior shadowed and still. He didn’t stop to read the sign or check what was being sold—he just ducked inside, moving with the same silent efficiency that had kept him alive in enemy territory more times than he could count.

The scent hit him first.

Warm. Soft. A strange blend of earth and something floral, something uniquely alive.

Ken tensed, his pulse tripping over itself as an immediate, animal part of him reacted to the scent like a match to dry tinder. His muscles locked, body instinctively cataloging the way his breathing deepened, the way his nerves flared in a way that had nothing to do with danger.

What the hell—

His eyes adjusted to the dim interior.

The booth was small, the back half curtained off, while the front displayed a variety of handcrafted jewelry and intricate artwork. Wooden crates had been flipped into makeshift shelves, stacked high with bracelets, rings, and pendants carved with swirling, hypnotic patterns. A delicate wire sculpture of a fox curled around itself, as if frozen mid-motion, caught his attention.

But Ken barely registered any of it.

Because behind the display, curled up on the floor, was a woman.

She was small, her knees drawn to her chest, arms wrapped around herself as if trying to disappear into the fabric of her own oversized sweater. Her thick, wild hair was a dark halo around her face, half-obscuring her features.

Her breathing was uneven. Too shallow.

Ken’s mind snapped into assessment mode, scanning for signs of injury. Shock? Hyperventilation? Panic attack? Something was wrong. He could feel it.

But it was like fighting through fog.

Because her scent was in his lungs now, winding around his senses like a noose, muddling every thought that wasn’t her.

Ken clenched his jaw, forcing himself to think past the instinctive pull. He wasn’t some teenager overcome by pheromones. He was a GhostWalker, for fuck’s sake. He was enhanced, disciplined, trained against biological manipulation.

So why did his body feel like it was zeroing in on her, every muscle coiled tight like he was standing on the edge of something inevitable?

He took a slow step forward.

Her fingers twitched where they gripped the fabric of her sweater, but she didn’t look up. Didn’t acknowledge him.

Ken exhaled through his nose, steadying himself.

“Hey,” he said, keeping his voice low, even. “You okay?”

No response.

His gut twisted. The power outside had flickered. The air still felt charged, humming at the edges of his awareness. And she—

His gaze flicked over her again, tracking the slight tremor in her shoulders, the tight way she held herself.

Something told him that whatever was wrong with her—it had everything to do with what just happened.

And that meant he needed to figure it out. Fast.

[iwritesmutnottragedy]

The Fire-Woman

The Fire-Woman

Amoukar watched the fire. The flames danced and cracked, their light flickering against the darkened valley. His body was still from the long day of walking, hunting, and watching—but his mind was not still. His mind was full.

The fire was theirs again. Strong. Alive. It had been many days since the Wagabu took it, many days since the Ulam had gone without its warmth, its protection. Now, it burned before him, feeding on wood, whispering in tongues only the wind understood.

Amoukar exhaled through his nose, rolling a smooth stone between his fingers. The fire was back. But something else had come with it.

His eyes flicked to where the others lay, curled beneath thick furs. Naoh and Ika were pressed close together, their breathing slow and steady. Gaw lay apart, though close to the fire, his heavy brow furrowed even in sleep. He was always thinking, even when he rested.

And then—her.

The fire-woman.

Sara.

Amoukar’s fingers twitched, his grip tightening slightly on the stone. She had curled up beside him again tonight. Close. Like before. Like the first night, when the dark had stretched too wide and the cold had pressed too deep, and she had crept toward his warmth with hesitant hands.

She had been afraid that night. Afraid of the night, of the world, of them. But not anymore.

Not of him.

Amoukar’s lips curled slightly, the ghost of a smirk crossing his face. He had felt her small body relax beside him, her breath steady against his arm. She was not as afraid now. She trusted him.

That pleased him more than he would admit.

The others had accepted her. Naoh tolerated her, Gaw still watched her with wary eyes, and Ika—well, she was like her. Different. Sharp like a new stone blade, quick with her hands, quick with her thoughts.

But Sara… Sara was softer.

Amoukar had never met a woman like her. She was weak in body, but not in spirit. She could not hunt, could not fight, could not eat raw meat without her belly twisting in pain. But she did not break. She learned. She tried. She was small, strange, not built for this world—but she had survived.

That was strength.

And now… she spoke.

Amoukar glanced down at the pendant she had shown them. The stone, smooth and cold, had changed something. Her words had once been broken sounds, nonsense that meant nothing. Now, they meant everything.

The first time she spoke to him in Ulam’s tongue, his whole body had stilled. The words had fit in his ears, in his mind, but not in his understanding. Fire-woman had done something. Made something.

He had laughed. Gaw had not. But Amoukar had laughed because he had understood.

And now… now he wanted to understand more.

His eyes returned to her sleeping form. The firelight flickered over her face, painting her in warmth. Her lips were slightly parted, breath slow, steady. Her strange dark hair was tangled from the wind, bits of grass still woven through it. Amoukar had pulled some of it out the night before, fingers combing through her strands like he did with Gaw. She had not stopped him.

Another small smirk curled his lips.

She was close. He liked that.

He would speak to her when she woke. Now that the words were not broken, he wanted to hear her. Really hear her. He wanted to ask where she had come from, what she had seen. What she was.

And he wanted to tell her things, too.

The fire popped, sending a small spark into the air. Amoukar’s eyes followed it until it faded into the night.

Tomorrow. He would speak to her tomorrow.

For now, he let his eyes close, his body settling into the earth. The fire warmed his skin, but the warmth against his side—the small presence breathing steadily beside him—was something different.

Something new.

And Amoukar liked new things.

Especially this one.

[iwritesmutnottragedy]

THREE

Jack had never expected such a monumental shift in their world. The breaking of the covenant, the newfound freedom to intertwine lives freely, were all things he had barely dared to dream of. It filled him with exhilaration and a newfound hope.

As the reality settled, one thought lingered in his mind - taking their relationship to the next level. Intimacy, a physical union, was something he had been wary about due to his condition. But now, with the newfound liberty, it seemed like an attainable dream.

He spent several days contemplating this, the thought both exciting and somewhat nerve-wracking. Jack loved Sara with all his heart, and the idea of becoming physically close to her was deeply alluring. To complete their bond, to show her how much she meant to him…

But he couldn't ignore the lingering shadow of his Blood Rage. The thought of it flaring up when they were at their most vulnerable was a chilling risk. Jack knew he'd never forgive himself if he lost control during such an intimate moment. He needed to be absolutely certain he could manage this before proceeding.

So, with great deliberation, he decided to speak to Diana about it. She was not just his mother figure but also a source of wisdom and experience in managing supernatural abilities. Not to mention her and Matthew's own relationship being a model for a successful interspecies bonding.

Jack sought Diana out one evening, a seriousness in his eyes and his gait. He found her in the study, poring over some old texts as was often her habit. Clearing his throat softly, he announced his presence. "Diana?”

"Good evening, Jack." Diana glanced up from her studies, her expression turning warm when she saw her adopted son. She gestured for him to come in with a welcoming wave. "Is something on your mind?”

Jack stepped into the room, closing the door gently behind him. He lingered by the doorway for a few moments, organizing his thoughts before moving further into the room. He stopped before Diana's desk, hands shoved into his pockets. "Yes," he admitted, his voice steady but laced with a hint of seriousness. "I wanted to talk to you about something important.”

Diana closed the book she'd been reading and set it aside, giving Jack her full attention. Her blue eyes held a steady, calming gaze. "Of course. You can tell me anything, you know that, Jack.”

Jack met her gaze, appreciative of her calm demeanor and willingness to listen. He took a deep breath, gathering the threads of his thoughts. "I wanted to discuss...about my Blood Rage," he began, his tone careful. "And...my relationship with Sara.”

"Sara..." They had met her only once, while Jack and the other witch had still been forced to keep their relationship a secret. Matthew had reacted...poorly, at first. He had been more overcome with concern for the consequences of managing Jack's condition when his emotions could become easily heightened. However Diana was happy for their son-- she could sense an air of peace within him that there hadn't been before. "I see. What's on your mind?"

Jack nodded, acknowledging Diana's question. "Sara and I...we've been together for a little while now," he started, a soft fondness in his voice at the mention of her name. "And with the covenant broken, we don't have to hide our relationship anymore."

He paused, choosing his words carefully. "I want to deepen our bond...to consummate our relationship.”

"But..." There was a subtle edge of apprehension in his eyes. "My Blood Rage, it's still...it's still something I have to keep under control.”

"I'm concerned about...well, about losing control during an intimate moment." Jack confessed, his gaze flicking briefly away from Diana before meeting her eyes again. "I don't want to put Sara in danger, or do something I can't take back.”

Diana nodded in understanding. "I know your condition affects you different than Matthew, he's had much longer to learn how to control it." She acknowledged. "But you've made such progress, Jack. I don't think you've had an episode since you've met her-- certainly not since you had introduced her to us. That has to mean something, right?"

Jack listened patiently as Diana spoke, nodding subtly in agreement. "I haven't lost control since we got together," he confirmed. "Sara...she calms me, in a way I didn't expect.”

"But..." He sighed softly, looking a little conflicted. "It's not just about time, or the frequency of episodes. The Blood Rage is unpredictable. Even a minor trigger could set it off. And if it happens during..." He trailed off, not needing to elaborate further.

She could see the same reservations in him that Matthew had not too long ago. Diana's expression softened to one of understand and she nodded. "I think what needs to happen for you is the same trial that Phillipe put Matthew through."

She took a step forward and reached for Jack's hand. "She has to witness the effects of your condition herself. That's the only way to prove to you both that your union has the strength to endure it."

Jack looked at Diana, surprise briefly crossing his features before a more pensive expression settled in. He took her hand and laced their fingers together. "You're suggesting..." He murmured, a hint of uncertainty in his voice. "...that Sara should witness one of my episodes?”

"That's exactly what I'm saying." She spoke firmly but kindly. "With our support, of course. Matthew and I will be there to make sure no one gets hurt." Already she was making the mental preparations for what they would need and how she would speak to Matthew about it later. The babies, twins born from her union with Matthew and the first of their kind, babbles loudly in the other room.

"You deserve happiness, Jack. I don't agree with the way he did it but it Matthew showing me the full effects of his condition was significant." Phillipe had provoked Matthew in order to expose his condition to her and she would never force it upon Jack that way. But Diana couldn't deny it had been an effective way to prove the strength of their union.

Jack listened attentively to Diana, the seriousness of her words sinking in. He knew the weight of her wisdom and experience. "I see." He responded slowly, his gaze focused on their linked hands. "But...if Sara sees the effects firsthand, won't that just...won't that just increase her risk of getting hurt?”

"No, I will be there. Matthew will be there. And besides, Jack...Sara is a witch. She isn't helpless." She reminded him softly.

Jack nodded in acknowledgment of her words. He knew Sara was anything but helpless. "I know," he agreed, a hint of admiration in his voice. "It's just...the thought of her being anywhere near that...it…”

"...it makes me worry." he finished quietly, his eyes meeting Diana's. "But I understand what you're saying. Perhaps it's the only way to truly know how stable my condition is around her.”

Diana offered him a warm smile and nodded her head, glad that he had been able to come around to her perspective. She squeezed his hand and met his eyes with certainty, " bring her by this afternoon and we'll all go somewhere isolated, where we can make sure everything is under control. "

The irony was not lost on her considering the very nature of his condition meant surrendering what control he had. " It'll all be all right, I promise. “

Jack took a deep breath, trying to quell the nervous flutter in his stomach. He trusted Diana's judgment. "All right." He agreed, although the apprehension was still evident in his tone. "I'll let her know." He slipped his hand out of hers and raked it through his hair, the movement betraying his underlying anxiety. "But, Diana…”

"What if..." He swallowed, voicing a fear that had lurked in the back of his mind. "What if she can't handle it? Or worse..." The worry deepened in his eyes. "What if it scares her off?”

"Then you know that it wasn't meant to be, as cliché as that is." She pulled Jack into a warm embrace. The tension in his body betrayed the obvious anxiety he felt. "But you'll always have us."

Sara hadn't been expecting Jack to stop by, she had been deep in an art project for days and barely been able to pull her focus together in order to keep up with her humanish needs. But she could sense there was something important he wanted to tell her. She sat on the bench at her dining table and watched as he paced the length of her trailer, obviously anxious about something.

"You want us to go over to your parents tonight? Why?"

Jack glanced over to where Sara sat, her art project temporarily forgotten. He stopped in his pacing and looked at her, his brow furrowed with concern. "It's...it's not just a casual visit." he clarified. "There's something I need to talk to you about.”

He moved to take a seat across from her, his gaze unwavering. "It's about my Blood Rage," he said quietly, diving straight into the heart of the matter. "I've been doing better, but there's still a risk. Especially in certain situations."

Sara nodded, she had a feeling she knew which situations he was talking about. They had spent a lot of time together, almost all of their free time together, since they had decided to become a couple. It wasn't planned, the intensity of their relationship, but she couldn't imagine it any other way. She reached across the table for his hand, her eyebrows went up. "You mean how we haven't had sex yet?"

Jack's eyes softened as she took his hand, appreciating the grounding touch. He nodded slowly, silently confirming her intuition. "Yes. Exactly." He replied, a slight edge of seriousness in his voice. "My Blood Rage...it doesn't react well to heightened emotions, and…”

"...and you know what can spark that." He paused, his thumb absently brushing over her knuckles. "I want to be with you in every way, Sara. I really do. But I need to know that I'm not putting you at risk.”

"I want that too, Jack." It was practically all she'd been able to think about, even though she would never let him know that. They were taking things slow, and she was happy just for every moment they could share together. Especially now that they didn't have to keep their relationship a secret, now that they were no longer in danger of breaking the covenant. She squeezed his hand.

"What does that have to do with going over to Matthew and Diana's though?" She asked carefully.

Jack seemed relieved by her response, some of the tension easing from his shoulders. "It's not just about going there for the sake of a visit. It's..." He took a deep breath, trying to find the right words. "They...Diana and Matthew have decided that the best way for us to test this, to see if my Blood Rage poses a risk, is for you to witness an episode firsthand.”

"With their supervision," he hurriedly added, not wanting her to think he was throwing her into a dangerous situation without support. "They plan to keep everything under control." He looked at her searchingly, trying to gauge her reaction.

Sara could only blink in surprise for a moment. Jack was always so guarded about his condition, constantly focused on keeping it under control...that he would willingly allow her to witness that side of him meant a lot to her and spoke volumes. But there was also a deep concern there for him, she knew the episodes were unpleasant to say the least and she didn't want him to make himself suffer on her behalf.

"I see..." She murmured. "How do you feel about that?"

Jack noticed the concern in her eyes and squeezed her hand reassuringly. "It's...complicated." He confessed, reflecting on his own conflicted feelings. "I don't like the idea of putting you in danger, and the episodes..." He grimaced, recalling the out-of-control feeling. "They're not pleasant. They're not me.”

He held her gaze, a mix of apprehension and resolve in his eyes. "But if there's a chance it could prove that we can be together without this...this threat, then..." He sighed softly. "Then I'm willing to try.”

She hated the idea of him being forced to do something he wasn't comfortable with, but she couldn't deny her curiosity at seeing that part of him he kept carefully locked away. Sara took a steadying breath and bit her bottom lip before. Her words were chosen carefully so as not to make him any more nervous than he already was.

"Nothing I see will change the way I feel about you, Jack. I promise."

Jack's gaze softened at her words, an unexpected sense of relief washing over him. He hadn't realized how much he needed to hear that. "I believe you." He said softly, his thumb gently brushing her knuckles. "But it's not about changing how you feel. It's about proving, once and for all, that my condition doesn't have to be a barrier between us.”

"I understand." It would prove that even if he did lose control, they could handle it. They sat in silence for a few minutes, enjoying each other's company with a thin air of tension between them as the reality of what they were about to do settled like a heavy blanket over them. Eventually, they could put it off no longer.

"I suppose we should get going, then?" She stood and made her way to the door to hold it open for him. "And then after this whole thing, we'll have crazy sex and it will all be worth it." She teased in an attempt to lighten his mood.

Jack's serious expression cracked into a crooked smile at Sara's playful remark. The brief moment of levity was more than appreciated. "Crazy sex, eh?" He raised an eyebrow, playing along with her attempt to lighten the mood. "I'll be holding you to that proposition."

He stepped through the door, pausing for a moment. "But yes, we should get going.”

He slipped his hand into Sara's, the warmth and reassurance of her touch grounding him. "Ready?" He looked at her, the gravity of what they were about to do returning to his gaze.

They drove to Mattew and Diana's in relative silence. She could feel the tension escalating in his energy. By the time that they arrived it was like Jack was a spring, coiled so tightly that the wrong move might cause him to snap. Sara couldn't help but wear a worried expression as Matthew then ushered them into his own car and took them deep into the forest. The sun was low in the sky, and it was already dark under the dense canopy of trees. They drove for what felt like an hour, just to make sure that there was no chance of anyone coming upon them.

When they finally stopped and exited the vehicle, Sara reluctantly released Jack's hand and took a few steps back. She tried to mentally prepare herself for what was to come, but she had no idea what the effect of his condition could have.

Jack felt the absence of Sara's presence keenly as she distanced herself. His gaze lingered on her for a moment before he returned his attention to the surroundings. The dense forest, the setting sun. It was an apt place for this test. They were away from any potential harm or disturbance. It was just them, Matthew, and Diana.

He watched Sara from the corner of his eye, her careful demeanor betraying her concern. They all understood the gravity of what they were about to do.

Diana approached Jack, her expression a mix of understanding and worry. "We're far enough out. How are you feeling?" She asked, her voice soft but firm. Matthew stood a few steps away, ever the sentinel, his gaze scanning the area vigilantly.

Jack nodded in acknowledgment, appreciating her words. As he prepared himself, his gaze drifted to Sara, standing a little way off. The sight of her there, willing to endure this experience with him, both comforted and added to his stress.

Sara hovered, giving Jack the distance that he seemed to need. Her arms were wrapped tightly around herself, mostly to stop herself from moving or reaching toward him. They had told her that no matter what, she was not supposed to move or touch him if she could help it. Or course she had agreed, but at this moment-- seeing how nervous he seemed...she wasn't so sure.

"I'm here." She agreed quietly, and waited for his blood rage to take control.

Jack drew in a slow, deep breath, her words a lifeline in the storm of emotions raging within him. He appreciated her support, even though he wished she didn't have to witness what was about to happen. But it was too late for that now. "I know." He responded, his voice carrying a mix of gratitude and unease, his gaze briefly meeting hers before refocusing on Matthew and Diana.

"Alright." He said with a resigned nod, his gaze hardening with a grim resolve. "Let's do this.”

Without warning Matthew rushed Jack and pushed him hard. The force sent the younger vampire flying back, the wind rushed past. It was obvious that he was trying to provoke Jack with pure violence alone.

Jack's eyes widened in surprise as Matthew suddenly lunged at him, the unexpected attack sending him sprawling backward. "What--" He managed to gasp, the initial shock quickly giving way to irritation. He caught himself, regaining his balance as he glared at Matthew. "What the hell?" His voice was laced with indignation and confusion.

"Matthew, what's..." He started, his brows furrowing in frustration. But before he could finish, the situation suddenly seemed to clarify itself. It wasn't Matthew attacking him out of nowhere. It was a test. An intentional provocation to bring up his Blood Rage.

"Oh." The realization dawned on him, the confusion seeping out of his features, replaced by a mixture of resignation and a steely resolve. "I see.”

Matthew didn't respond, he simply lunged at Jack again, and this time he didn't hold back. Centuries of battles came out and he attacked Jack mercilessly, determined to push him past his control and release the beast that he kept chained within.

The second attack from Matthew was fiercer, driven with a practiced ferocity that reflected his vast experience. Jack braced himself, his instincts kicking in as he moved to counter the onslaught, dodging and blocking as best he could. His expression tightened with exertion, realizing Matthew wasn't holding back.

Each collision sent vibrations through his body, the force of Matthew's attacks almost overwhelming. Jack gritted his teeth, his eyes locked in a glare that matched the intensity of the situation. The pain, the pressure, the rush of adrenaline, it was all building, the Blood Rage stirring at the edges of his control.

He countered with a sharp jab, but it was quickly deflected. Matthew was relentless, each blow more potent than the last, testing the depths of Jack's tolerance. He could feel it, the rage threatening to burst forth, the animalistic side of himself straining against the bonds of his humanity.

It was hard for Sara to see exactly what happened, the two vampires were a blur of motion. But she could hear them. Jack's heavy breathing was turning into harsh, erratic gasps. And when they finally stopped, Matthew had gripped Jack by the hair with his head reared back-- She could see that the blood rage had taken control. His eyes were black and he snarled and gasped as he fought desperately against Matthew's hold.

The Blood Rage had taken over, transforming Jack's usually composed countenance into a feral mask. His eyes, now entirely black, blazed with a primal intensity as he fought to free himself from Matthew's grip. Snarls and gasps escaped him, primal sounds that echoed the vicious struggle for control. He seemed more beast than man in that moment, desperate and dangerous.

Jack writhed and twisted, attempting to free himself. But Matthew's grip was firm, years of experience in combat aiding him in containing the feral energy of the Blood Rage that coursed through Jack's veins. The tension in the air was palpable, the struggle a fierce battle between Matthew's iron will and Jack's feral, uncontrollable rage.

Sara watched with large, sad eyes as the man she had fallen in love with lost himself to the powerful instincts that ravaged his mind. To anyone else it might have looked as though he was nothing more than an animal, snarling and gasping as he scented her in the air. But she could see even as he fought against Matthew's hold, his arms gripped his father close in what must have been a painful embrace. It was the only sign he was still there and still trying to stop himself from giving in to his condition completely.

Jack was caught between the raw, uncontrollable nature of his Blood Rage and the fragments of his humanity clinging to the surface of his consciousness. Even in this frenzied state, he was fiercely holding onto Matthew, a desperate attempt to anchor himself to the remnants of his self-control.

His eyes, now two pools of inky blackness, remained fixated on where Sara should be. He could smell her, the scent of her presence a beacon in the midst of the chaos surrounding him. It spurred the primal need within him to an even higher pitch.

The sounds that escaped him were a strangled mix of growls and gasps, his body trembling with the effort of restraining the urge to pounce on Sara. His hands clenched around Matthew's arm, holding him there as much as he was held, as he hovered on the precipice of total submission to his Blood Rage. He was caught in a struggle between desire, control, and the uncontrollable beast within, and the strain was evident in every fiber of his being.

Matthew held Jack fast, everything in him determined to see his son through this. He knew the struggle Jack was facing intimately and just how much energy the condition took to manage. He'd had centuries to solidify his own coping skills so that his relationship with Diana had begun with a far more controlled risk than that of Jack and Sara's.

"Focus. Jack." He shook him slightly as he spoke, as if to physically force his words to sink into the other man's skin. "Fight it."

The shake from Matthew jolted through Jack, the words cutting through the fog of primal urges that threatened to consume him. "I'm..." Jack managed a strangled gasp, his voice guttural and raw. "Trying..."

He was fighting. He was struggling. His body trembled with the effort to regain control. But the Blood Rage, a force so deep-rooted and powerful, was a stubborn adversary.

Jack's arms strained against Matthew's hold, his fingers digging into the other man's arm almost instinctively, holding onto the one lifeline he had. The scent of Sara continued to torment his heightened senses, further intensifying the struggle that raged inside him. "I can..." He panted, voice ragged. "I can smell her.”

Tears sprung to her eyes as she watched Jack struggle and she shot a glance over to Diana who wore a similar heart broken expression. It was clear that neither of them took any pleasure in watching Jack fight against his condition. There was a silent plea in Sara's eyes and Diana's expression turned hesitant. She knew what it was the younger woman wanted, what she would have wanted in that moment. But it was too dangerous. She shook her head at Sara in silent command for her to stay rooted to the spot.

"Talk to him." She suggested to Sara, her voice no more than a whisper. Her eyes turned back to where Jack was staring sightlessly in their direction. "Try to bring him back."

The sound of Diana's voice was like another tether, wrapping around Jack's mind, pulling him back from the edge of complete surrender to the Blood Rage. He turned his head, hearing the words and the sound, trying to focus on them, on the recognition they offered. Slowly, he began to fight harder, his body continuing to strain against Matthew's grip, yet his gaze seemed to be more alert, less beast-like.

"He's responding," Diana said with a mix of hope and concern. Her heart ached for the boy she had come to see as her child, knowing the pain and the struggle he was going through.

Matthew nodded, his expression taut with the strain of containing Jack's strength. He gave his son another shake to keep him focused. "Jack, listen to us," he barked, injecting an authoritative tone into his words. "Focus on our voices.”

"Jack." Sara's voice cut through the storm in his mind. It was shaky but firm, a lifeline and a beacon to guide him back. "Jack, I'm here. Just breathe, okay? You can fight this." Her voice was trembling, the tears evident in her tone, but there was also an unwavering determination.

Jack's head jerked in response to her voice. His ears strained to pick up the familiar sound, recognition fighting to cut through the haze of his blood rage.

The scent of her was overpowering but hearing her voice, *her* voice, was a spark of clarity. "Sara..." He managed to grind out, the word a raw plea in the midst of his struggle.

He inhaled deeply, trying to clear the chaos in his mind, using her voice as a anchor. "I...I can't...control..." The confession was guttural, filled with the fear and pain of the battle he was waging. He was hanging on, but just barely.

Despite everything they had told her, every warning she had been given-- Sara took a single step forward toward Jack. The leaved crunched under her boots and she longed to reach out toward him, but even with the way her heart twisted at each ragged gasp that was torn from his chest...she knew better than to tempt him in that way when he was barely holding on. "You **can**."

Her voice was firm with the confidence she felt in him. Sara blinked away her tears and steeled herself, if Jack could face this struggle then she could bear witness to it. "Just focus on me, can you hear my heart?" It's steady beating threatened to pound against her chest but she did her best to keep it under control.

As Sara took the step forward, and the sound of her boots on the leaves reached Jack's ears, he tensed, a guttural snarl escaping his throat. The primal instincts, so close to the surface, flared up in response, and he strained against Matthew's grip.

But there was something in her voice. Her words, her command, the steady rhythm of her heart. It cut through the chaos and the darkness, and he tried to focus on it. "Yes...yes, I can hear it," he managed to gasp out, his voice barely recognizable.

It was a struggle, every fiber of his being wanted to pounce on her, to let himself go and give in to the Blood Rage. But the sound of her voice, every beat of her heart, was a lifeline he desperately clutched onto as he fought for control.

"Sara..stay back..." He managed to grind out, a warning, a plea. He was teetering on the edge, the battle between the beast and the man waging a fierce war within. His body shook with the effort of holding back.

"I will," She assured him and took slow measured breaths in order to keep her pulse steady. Almost meditatively so in order to give Jack something to focus on. The rough gasps has slowed, their erratic edge not quite as harsh. It no longer sounded like the air he sucked in grated against his throat like shards of glass, but there was still a barely contained wild look to Jack's eyes. And his fingers still dug into Matthew's arm as though he were fighting his own body's desire to break free.

"But I'm not going anywhere. You can do this, Jack." The tears had faded from her voice, replaced with raw affection. "I know you can."

The steady rhythm of her voice and her heartbeat were like a soothing mantra to Jack, a lifeline in the midst of the struggle. The ragged gasps transformed into more controlled breathing, the sound softer, less desperate.

His eyes, still wild and feral, darted towards her as he listened to her words. The grip on his father's arm was still there, but it had relaxed a fraction, as if her words were reaching him, pulling him back.

"I...I'm trying..." he gasped out. The words were broken and strained, but he was fighting, his whole body trembling with the effort.

The war within him continued, the Blood Rage still pulsing through his veins, wanting to overpower him. But the sound of Sara's heart, steady and sure, and her voice, filled with the kind of belief that only love could give, was strengthening him.

Matthew felt the change, the small but important relaxation of Jack's grip. He maintained his grip, but loosened it fractionally, giving his son just a little more freedom to move. "You're doing it, Jack," he encouraged, his voice a low, steady rumble. "Keep fighting. Keep listening to her.”

"I knew from the moment I first saw you - You're special, Jack. To me." It was a confession she'd been saving for after they had finally broken down this last barrier between them and solidified their relationship with finally having sex...but this moment felt so much more important. Sara pushed aside any embarrassment at his parents witnessing her love confession and took another careful step forward. She was close enough to the two struggling men that she could reach out and touch Jack if she tried.

"I know you can do this because I believe we're meant to be together. Jack...I love you, I'm, " She cleared her throat and her tone came back stronger, filled with her conviction. "I'm falling in love with you."

As Sara confessed her feelings, the effect on Jack and the ongoing battle within him was immediate. His eyes, dark pools of struggle and pain, flared with a mix of shock and a glimmer of recognition. His breathing, though still ragged, seemed to steady further, her words reaching past the roar of the Blood Rage.

The tremble of his body seemed to lessen, his grip on Matthew's arm easing further. The raw sound of his strained breathing softened as Sara's declaration echoed in his ears. It was a profound shift in the struggle he was undergoing.

For a breath-stopping moment, it seemed as though her confession had reached through the chaos and turmoil, striking a chord within Jack that echoed deeper than the Blood Rage. His body was still tense, the struggle within him still palpable, but his eyes, fixed on Sara, seemed to clear just a fraction.

Matthew, feeling the shift in Jack's grip, dared to loosen his hold a bit more, maintaining readiness to intervene if needed but hope flared in his heart at the sight of his son responding to Sara.

"S...*Sara*," Jack gasped out, his voice still rough and strained, but a little less feral than before. The sound of her confession was cutting through the fog of his blood rage, reaching deep to where his human heart lay buried under the beast.

His body was still taut, as if fighting for every ounce of control. But her words, her declaration of feelings, seemed to anchor him, to give him something to cling to in the storm within.

"And you're stronger than this, Jack- I know you are." She continued, the wind around them seemed to still, the very atmosphere responded to the words that she spoke between them. Sara's magic was strong but untrained and came out in the oddest circumstances, the leaves around them slowly floated up from the ground and drifted toward the sky as if gravity were reversing itself. The strands of her long dark hair floated around her shoulders, and her gaze held his with an intensity she hadn't felt before.

"Just listen to me, focus on me..." There was a hypnotizing quality to her voice now and Diana's expression turned sharp as she recognized the unspoken command of a spell. She stepped toward Sara and placed a hand on her shoulder, breaking the other witch's concentration and the leaves fell back to the ground. The atmosphere returned to normal.

"No," Diana said softly. "He has to do this himself."

Her magic, even untrained, held power and Matthew, even as he struggled to maintain his grip on his son, was aware of it. His eyes flickered between Jack and Sara. But when Diana stepped forward, breaking the spell and the tension between the two, he knew his mate was right. Jack had to fight this battle himself.

"She's right, Jack," Matthew said, his voice a steady rumble. "You have to do this.”

Jack's eyes widened at the sight of the leaves rising around them, a hint of a boyish awe in the midst of his struggle. His eyes, still wild but less feral, darted between Sara and the floating leaves. Her words, her confession, and her magic seemed to reach into him, stirring something within.

But when Diana intervened, breaking the spell, Jack's focus returned to the present. His breathing was still labored, the Blood Rage still roiling within, but Matthew's words held an authority that made him listen.

He was on the brink—the edge of either total surrender to the rage or the strength to fight it. The leaves falling back to the ground were a sharp reminder of the balance he was walking. With a deep, ragged gasp, Jack's eyes found Sara's again, holding on to the anchoring power of her gaze.

Sara felt her magic return back to the careful little box in her mind that she kept it in with a feeling of loss, like a warm blanket being yanked from her in the cool hours of the morning. However she understood why Diana had intervened, and in truth Sara hadn't even noticed the spell she'd been about to cast. Any other time she would have been embarrassed, but in this moment all she could think about was Jack. The darkness of night had settled over the forest and she had no idea how long they had been standing there, with him caught in an endless battle within himself.

His eyes bore into hers, and she could see a small sliver of blue return. It was physical evidence that he was fighting against the Blood Rage - and winning. "That's it Jack...you can do it."

The sight of the sliver of blue in Jack's eyes, a small but monumental shift in his struggle, filled Sara with renewed hope. She held his gaze, her own eyes brimming with emotions. "You're stronger than it," she repeated, her words steady and firm. "Come back to me, just a little more.”

Every word seemed to pierce through the haze of the Blood Rage, finding a way to dig into the core of him. The grip he had on his humanity was tenuous, but Sara's words, her belief in him, gave him something to hold onto.

His breath was still rough and ragged, but his eyes remained locked on hers. The wildness in them was beginning to wane, replaced with the flicker of Jack's humanity fighting back.

He let out a shuddering exhale, the sound filled with the effort of his struggle. The muscles in his body trembled, as if each moment was a fight against the Beast for supremacy. But his eyes, fixed on Sara, held onto the last sliver of humanity that remained.

"I...I'm trying," he managed to get out, his voice hoarse and raw, but it was his own voice - not the feral growl of the Blood Rage.

She could see him returning to himself, little by little. Already his breathing, which at the height of his blood rage had been so uncontrolled she thought his lungs might burst from his chest, had eased to something closer to the desperate panting of an athlete after pushing their endurance to its limits. His pupils were still dilated but she knew now when he looked in her direction he was actually seeing her, not just the Blood Rage's instinctual draw towards her living rushing blood.

"You're better than trying, Jack. You're doing it." She assured him, trying her best to keep him there with her. "Just a little longer- then we can go *home*."

*Home*

The word seemed to unlock something within Jack. The last time he had a 'home,' had someone that wanted him, had a place he belonged...was almost a lifetime ago. And now here was Sara, offering him something he'd never thought he'd have again. Something so simple, yet so precious.

"Home...with you?" he managed to gasp out, his voice gruff but filled with a hint of vulnerability. The thought of it, of having a home with her, was a lifeline he clung to.

The idea of *home*, of having a place and a person with whom he could belong, pulled at something deep within Jack. It was a simple word but held so much promise. It was a concept he hadn't dared to dream about since he was a child on the streets.

As he repeated the word, the sound ragged and vulnerable, he was asking more than just a question. He was asking for a place to belong, for acceptance, for love - things he'd never truly had. And for the first time, he was allowing himself to want it, to want *her*.

"*Yes.*" She breathed, and took a step forward. It was like she was being drawn toward him, pulled by an invisible tether and she couldn't stop it even if she tried. Her heart swelled at the thought of sharing her life with him, of him wanting that in return- whatever it might look like. Sara's expression softened and she allowed herself to breath a sigh of relief as the last vestiges of the Blood Rage were pushed under the surface. She watches as the tension eased out of Jack's body, like a predator slowly releasing it's prey-- and how he sagged against Matthew in exhaustion.

"Are you..." She couldn't bring herself to finish the question. *Are you back?*

Her affirmation hung in the air, the weight of her belief in him anchoring him to the present. As she stepped forward, the pull between them, an invisible tether, was palpable. Jack could feel it, a tangible connection between their souls.

As the last vestiges of the Blood Rage subsided, Jack's body relaxed, sagging against Matthew in physical exhaustion as well as the emotional toil of his struggle. *He'd done it.* He'd held back the rage, held on to himself, because she believed in him.

"I'm...I'm back," he managed to gasp out, his voice a rough whisper.

He was panting now, like he'd just run a marathon, but there was a sense of relief in his expression - and in Matthew's. "I'm me again."

He looked at Sara, his eyes meeting hers with a depth of feeling that was both intense and vulnerable. There was a sense that something had shifted between them, a deeper understanding and connection.

Matthew, his grip on Jack loosening now that the immediate danger had passed, spoke up. "You did it, son. You beat the Blood Rage.”

Once Matthew had released Jack, Sara rushed forward to catch him. Even then, his much longer, larger frame brought them both to their knees. She could feel a slight tremble run through him, though it was nothing like the physical strain he'd gone through moments before. Her arms held him close and she pressed a kiss against Jack's temple, overcome with both love and relief.

"You did it," She echoed, "You're amazing."

He sagged into her embrace, his body tremoring with the aftershocks of the struggle and the effort to regain control. As her arms encircled him, holding him close, it felt like a balm to his frazzled soul.

Jack burrowed his face into the crook of her neck, breathing in the scent of her skin. The feeling of her against him, the words of her praise...they all seemed to anchor him to the present, to her.

"I...almost didn't," he murmured, his voice muffled against her skin. "It was so close…”

As he spoke, his voice a low rumble against the sensitive skin of her neck, the weight of his words and the memory of the struggle were heavy in the air. The realization of how close he’d come to losing control, to succumbing fully to the Blood Rage, sent a shiver down his spine.

"But you didn't." Sara stressed the words, trying to make sure the sank into his skin and gave him power and confidence to continue his fight against his condition for as long as it was needed. Though now that she had seen his struggle, a part of her knew that it would be a part of him forever. She pulled back enough to caress Jack's face and bring his gaze to meet hers. Sara leaned her head forward until she could feel the smooth cool skin of his forehead against her own.

"I'm so proud of you, Jack." She met his eyes and spoke the confession once more, now that he was fully aware of the words coming from her and not fighting to hear them over the rush of his blood rage. "I love you."

Her words, spoken with conviction and confidence, cut through the shadows of doubt and worry that still plagued him. She wouldn’t allow him to dwell on what had almost happened, instead focusing on the reality that he'd held control.

As she pulled back, her hand cupped his face, her touch gentle yet firm, drawing his gaze to hers. The contact between them, the press of her skin against his, was a lifeline to ground him in the moment.

When she confessed her pride and her love, the words washed over him like a healing balm.

They settled into him, wrapping around his very being and seeping into the dark corners of his soul. *She loves me.* The thought was like a revelation, something he’d secretly longed for yet never dared to hope for.

"I love you," he echoed, the words coming out as a whispered exhale, as if they'd longed to be free. "I'm so...I'm so in love with you, Sara.”

She pulled Jack down into a passionate kiss, her hear soared at his words and she couldn't stop the grin that formed against his lips. It was an affirmation of their love, and a promise for what was to come later now that they had complete confidence in the security of their union. Jack could be close to her now, he didn't have to fear the blood rage taking control. The knowledge of that was like a fire, it heated her blood and sent her mind racing with all of the things she wanted to do to him, *with* him, to show him how much she cared.

"And now we can be together. For good." It wasn't a proposal, she knew vampire matings were sacred and could never initiate such a union herself. But she wanted him to know the depth of her dedication. In just a few short weeks Jack had become an immovable part of her life. "As long as you'll have me."

Jack sank into the kiss, his arms wrapping around her and pulling her closer. It was a kiss both passionate and tender, filled with weeks of suppressed desire and emotions. As their lips met and the heat between them flared, he was acutely aware of the new freedom they had, the knowledge that he could finally be with her, without the looming fear of the Blood Rage.

Her words, *together for good*, sent a jolt of thrill and excitement through him. She wasn't just a passing fancy, a quick infatuation. She was everything.

"Forever," he murmured against her lips. "Always.”

[iwritesmutnottragedy]

[iwritesmutnottragedy]

TWO

Throughout the course of the following week, Jack found himself plagued by thoughts of Sara. The memory of their conversation, though he would never admit it, lingered in his thoughts. He'd been adamant about not getting involved with her and even more adamant about not getting involved with anyone. Yet there he was, unable to shake off the strange pull she had on him.

It was late one evening, long after midnight, when impulse and curiosity finally got the better of him. With the speed that only a vampire could possess, he shot through the darkness, the wind whipping past him until he came to a halt outside her RV.

He paused for a moment, trying to gather himself. He had no concrete reason to be there, no valid excuse. But the nagging feeling in his gut had only grown stronger, and he'd come to accept that this was more than mere curiosity or boredom.

Steeling himself, he raised a hand and knocked quietly on the RV door, the sound echoing softly in the night.

Sara had been smoking, having woken up from her sleep for some unknown reason. She was just about to bring the glass bowl to her lips when there was a sudden rapping through the RV. Her dark eyes looked up at the door and her heart started to race. She stood and opened the door hesitantly, scared of who could be on the other side until she recognized Jack in the darkness.

A sigh of relief gusted from her lungs and she swung open the door. "Hello handsome," She sighed, brushing her long dark hair away from her face. "I didn't expect to see you here so late...or ever again, really."

"Sara," he greeted her with a nod, his eyes taking in her bleary-eyed figure silhouetted in the doorway. There was a subtle shift in his expression, a hint of relief mixed with confusion. "I didn't intend to disturb you so late."

His gaze flickered over her sleep-tousled hair before he met her eyes again. "May I come in? We need to talk.”

She took a step back so that he could come inside. It was a marvel to her how tall he was and the way he had to duck under the narrow metal doorframe of the RV in order to ender. Jack looked slightly out of place in his black jeans and dark hoodie, among the vibrant wall hangings and paintings that decorated the narrow interior of the RV. "You aren't disturbing me at all, I was already awake."

Sara took a seat back at her table where she'd been smoking and picked up the glass bowl once more. She held it up to him with her eyebrows raised, not wanting to be rude. "Do you mind if I hit this while we talk? You're free to join."

Jack ducked his head as he entered the RV, straightening up once inside. He seemed acutely aware of the incongruousness of his presence compared to the vibrant decor. He gave the interior a cursory glance before his gaze returned to her.

"No, not at all," he answered her question with a slight shake of his head. "I'll pass."

He took a seat across from her, his expression serious. "I came here for a reason.”

"I've... given some thought to our previous conversation," he began, his gaze holding hers with a weight of seriousness. "And I've realized... there are things I should have clarified earlier.”

The lighter flicked to life and a moment later she had brought the pipe to her full lips and took a deep inhale. The smoke floated up to the roof of her home and she let out a relieved sigh as some of the surprise from his sudden arrival faded away. She looked up at him, then motioned for him to take a seat across from her.

"Okay...What do you mean?" She asked, willing to hear what it was he had to say.

Jack settled into the seat provided, his gaze remained fixed on her as she exhaled a plume of smoke. He folded his hands on the tabletop, his demeanor thoughtful.

"Sara," he began, his voice steady, "Our talk a few days ago... it highlighted some differences between us, especially given my... nature.”

"I want to make something clear," he leaned slightly forward, his gaze unwavering. "I'm not a normal person. I have certain... physical needs, limitations, that put a strain on the concept of a 'normal' relationship.”

"I know you drink blood if that's what you're talking about?" She couldn't understand what it was that he seemed to be so guarded over, so secretive. But then again she only knew the barest facts about vampire history, their biology- and blood rage was a carefully guarded secret among their kind. Something that was eradicated quickly and without mercy. She had never even heard of it.

"Is there something else I'm missing?"

"That's not entirely what I'm talking about." Jack shook his head, a tinge of frustration in his features. "It's..." He paused, choosing his words carefully. "It's more complex than that. There are... aspects of my nature that are not just about feeding. It's a part of what makes me different, what makes forming a relationship... problematic.”

He let out a breath, his brows furrowing as if this was something he wished he didn't have to explain. "My nature, my very existence, comes with certain... challenges, restrictions. It's not just about drinking blood. It's about control, about managing a part of myself that could be... volatile.”

"I'm not saying this to scare you off, Sara. I'm telling you because you should know what you're getting into." There was a touch of vulnerability in his usually guarded expression. "It's not fair to you otherwise.”

She tried to parse together what he was saying. He was dangerous? She knew that. Sara sighed and decided she needed another hit from the bowl before they continued their conversation. Her lungs filled with smoke once more and she let it out slowly, mulling over his words as she did.

"So you're...violent? What does that mean exactly?"

"Violent?" He echoed, a small frown creasing his brows. "It's more...internal. It's a...condition, not a choice."

He watched as she exhaled the smoke, his gaze focused. "I have a...disorder that makes managing my blood lust difficult. It's something I'm learning to control, but it's not...it's not easy.”

"There are... episodes, triggered by certain things. It's not predictable. And it can be...dangerous." He admitted, his voice tinged with a hint of bitterness. "I didn't choose this, Sara. It's just part of who I am, what I am.”

She frowned and leaned forward, one of her tan hands reached for his pale one and she held it without hesitation. Sara stared into Jack's eyes, there was a deep pain there that tugged at her heart. Her thumb stroked against the soft skin on the back of his hand. "You thought I would turn you away because of a condition?"

Her head shook back and forth. "At least you're working on it. I'm not perfect either-- there are parts of me that are dangerous and I.." She sighed and her shoulders slumped. "I don't even know where to start on how to fix it."

Her touch and her words surprised him, breaking through his defensiveness with a gentleness he hadn't expected. He stared at their hands, a subtle tension easing from his shoulders at her unexpected acceptance.

"You...you don't immediately think me a lost cause?" There was a tinge of skepticism in his voice, the ingrained belief that his condition made him unapproachable deeply rooted within him.

"Of course not, Jack. That's ridiculous. I asked you to sleep with me because I *like* you. I could never think that." She assured him, her voice full of blatant honesty. "I just thought...you weren't into me, you know."

As she spoke, a flicker of genuine surprise crossed his features, followed by a hint of amusement at her final admission. He'd been ready to defend himself, to convince her that the dangers outweighed any potential for them.

"You thought...I wasn't into you?" He echoed, an eyebrow raised. "That's..." He let out a soft, incredulous chuckle.

"Sara, I'm here, aren't I? If I wasn't into you, I wouldn't have come." He pointed out, the corners of his lips tugging upward slightly, a hint of fondness in his gaze. "I might have a few...complexities, but I'm not blind.”

A wide grin broke across her face at that and she squeezed his hand with affection. Despite being confident in who she was she had a very limited history when it came to romantic relationship-- or relationships in general. Being a witch without a coven was a very solitary life within itself and left only fraternizing with humans...who often didn't understand the parts of her that were magical, or outside of her species. Jack was the first person in a long time to show that kind of interest in her.

"I think you're very handsome." She complimented in return. Then, because he had told her something vulnerable about himself, "But I'm not afraid of you. I know you might think I'm foolish but...I trust you."

His gaze softened, a warm smile tugging at the corners of his lips at her response. Hearing her say she wasn't afraid of him, that she trusted him despite knowing his complexities—it was almost too good to be true. He gave her hand a light squeeze in return.

"You're not foolish, Sara. It's...refreshing, to be trusted despite the flaws." He admitted, his expression turning contemplative. "And you're more than just confident and honest, you're..." He paused, searching for the right words.

"...brave." He settled on finally, his gaze steady on her face. "To have the courage to look past what might seem dangerous...not many could do that."

There was a note of gratitude in his voice, a quiet appreciation for her acceptance in the face of his vulnerabilities.

Her eyes flickered up to his and she felt the atmosphere shift between them into something heavier, more charged. The palm of her hand heated a little against his cool one in response to the way her heart raced as he spoke. Her tongue darted out to wet her full lips, and her eyes were drawn to his lips in return as he spoke. "No one's ever called me brave before."

As if being pulled by an invisible thread, she got up from her spot without letting go of his hand and slid into the booth seat right next to him. Carefully, she leaned her head against Jack's shoulder and wrapped her free arm around him. "Thank you for coming back and talking to me, I know that must have been hard."

Jack's expression softened as she moved closer, her head on his shoulder. He couldn't deny the way his own pulse spiked at her proximity, the gentle weight of her against him a comfortable contrast to the usual emptiness he felt in his existence.

"Hard?" He let out a soft chuckle. "No, what's hard is dealing with the complexities, the..." He trailed off, gesturing vaguely. "This? This is...easier.”

"The complexities," She repeated, then looked up at him. "Is there a name for your condition? What triggers your episodes, just so I can try to avoid those." The last thing she wanted to do was trigger some uncontrollable bloodlust in him. A more seasoned witch wouldn't have been afraid of one vampire, especially one she knew was coming-- but Sara's grasp on her magic was tenuous at best. At times she could be no more powerful than a common human, and she didn't want to risk either of them in that way.

Jack took a moment to respond, considering how much to reveal. He wasn't used to sharing these things, but he wanted to be honest with her. "My condition... it's called blood rage. It's not common, but it's not entirely rare either. It's a condition that...it can manifest in vampires when they struggle to control their blood lust, or are deeply stressed or emotionally triggered.”

"My episodes..." He grimaced slightly, "They're a result of that. It's like a...a loss of control." He chose his words carefully, not wanting to downplay it but also not wanting to scare her. "It's treatable, to an extent. But managing it is a...lifelong task.”

She nodded, listening carefully. It seemed important for her to understand the gravity of his condition, the last thing she wanted to do was minimize anything that he went through. Or take any unnecessary risks herself. But even knowing this about him, she couldn't imagine pushing him away because of it. There was something about Jack that just felt *right*, even with these complexities that seemed to impact his life so much.

"What happens when you lost control?" She could only imagine, but she wanted to know for sure. "And...does it happen often?"

"When I lose control..." He paused, his eyes growing distant for a moment. "I'm not myself. It's like... a predator takes over. My blood rage takes over."

He exhaled a sigh, the weight of his condition evident in his expression. "It doesn't happen often." He admitted. "But it's... unpredictable. Stress, strong emotions, they can trigger it. Even something as simple as a strong scent.”

"I'm..." He let out a short, humorless laugh. "I'm still figuring out my own triggers." He admitted, the frustration and uncertainty evident in his voice.

She nodded in understanding. "So it's like a blood condition mixed with a mental health condition? No wonder you're struggling. That sounds really hard." And she could understand how that would affect every relationship he had ever managed since his birth as a vampire. She leaned against him a little more, trying to draw Jack back into the present and away from the dark thoughts she could sense swirling just under the surface. It was getting to be the early hours of the morning and she reluctantly let go of his hand in order to cover a yawn.

"I'm probably not going to be able to stay up much longer but...would you stay?" She didn't want him to leave just yet, even though her mind wouldn't be able to handle the weight of their conversation she was desperately unwilling to say goodnight. "Please?"

Jack glanced at her with a mixture of gratitude and understanding as she yawned, the early hours of the morning catching up with her. Her request softened the edges of his usual guarded demeanor, touched by her insistence on having him stay.

"Stay?" The word left his lips quietly, a hint of surprise in his voice. No one had ever asked him to stay before, not like this.

"I..." He looked at her, studying her face for a moment. "Of course.”

"I don't have anywhere to be anytime soon." He added with a slight shrug, trying to downplay the significance of his agreement. Yet the fact that she wanted him to stay, that she didn't shy away from his complexities, filled him with a sense of comfort that he found hard to ignore.

They end up falling asleep with Sara curled up against Jack's side in her bed. It didn't take long for her to drift off after she laid down beside him, his arms carefully wrapped around her - almost hesitantly. She could tell from the way he held himself that he wasn't used to such casual displays of affection. The tension that seemed to be such a natural part of his body broke her heart to experience and she wove her arms around him in an attempt to ease some of the loneliness she could sense in his energy.

That night, or what was left of it, she had prophetic dreams filled with both love and blood. She couldn't make sense of the images that flashed in her mind, one dream bled into the next. When she woke up the next morning still in Jack's embrace, dream faded away quickly. Instead it wasn't replaced by a low hum of desire at the feeling of his morning wood pressed against her back.

"How do vampires get morning wood when they don't fall asleep very often? " she asked curiously as her brain slowly came online.

Jack was caught off guard by her inquiry about vampire biology, a bemused expression crossing his face. "Good morning to you too." He murmured, his voice still rough with sleep.

"Vampires don't... technically fall asleep," he explained, tightening his arm around her as if on reflex. "But our bodies still go through certain...circadian rhythms. The morning wood is just one of those bodily functions.”

She stretched and rubbed against him, both out of contentment and a little bit of physical teasing to test how sensitive he was. "I'm not complaining."

He chuckled softly, his gaze amused as he watched her stretch and press against him. "I should hope not." He replied with a hint of wry humor in his tone.

"Just don't expect a detailed explanation of vampire biology to be the first thing I think about in the morning." He said, nudging her gently in return.

She sighed at the nudge and then turned over, one of her arms move around his neck while the other ran soothingly over his chest. Sara snaked one of her legs in between his and slotted herself against him, molded against his body almost perfectly. "No?"

Her dark eyes looked into his blue ones, and slowly, she leaned toward him to press a soft kiss against his lips. "I can think of better things to do anyway."

Jack's gaze softened as she drew closer, a small, genuine smile tugging at the corners of his lips. The unexpected wave of affection in her eyes and the gentle brush of her lips against his sent a subtle jolt of warmth through him.

"Mm, I'm sure you can." He replied in a low voice, his arm around her waist tightening just the slightest bit in a gentle embrace. "I can think of a few myself."

Despite his rough exterior and the complexities of his condition, moments like these seemed to reveal a different side of him-- one that longed for connection and craved kindness.

His embrace tightened on her scent and echoing jolt of Desire through her. She rolled her hips against his, enjoying the lazy, slow build of sensations in the pit of her stomach that fizzled out to the ends of her fingertips. It had been a very long time since she spent the night with anyone, and Sara had forgotten how much she enjoyed waking up in the person she cared about's arms.

"I have a question, and I'm hoping it won't bother you.."

Jack couldn't help but feel a similar surge of heat as she rolled her hips against him, his attention fully on her. The easy intimacy of the moment was foreign yet somehow comforting to him.

"A question? Go on." He replied with a curious tilt of his head, his thumb idly brushing against her shoulder.

"With the complexities of your condition, are you able to have sex?" She asked quietly, making sure that there was no trace of any kind of judgment in her voice. He had mentioned that strong emotions played a part in triggering his blood rage. She didn't know which emotions those were, unless things she wanted to do was risk triggering an episode in him.

Jack's expression became serious, the warmth in his gaze replaced by a hint of worry. He appreciated her directness and her lack of judgement.

"That's... not an easy question to answer." He admitted, sighing softly. "It depends on a lot factors. Primarily, yes, I can...but…”

"But it's...tricky." He elaborated, his voice quiet. "Anything that triggers intense emotional or physical stimulation can be a potential trigger for me. So it's...it's something I have to manage very cautiously.”

Her eyes didn't leave his. The words registered, and she took him in seriously but the heat in her eyes didn't waver. She was determined to figure out how to make this part of a relationship work for them. "So...we take it slow?"

She rolled her hips against his again and sighed with pleasure. "And you tell me if things get too intense?"

Jack's gaze softened at her unwavering demeanor, a small part of him finding comfort in her determined attitude. He nodded slowly, understanding the intention behind her words.

"Taking it slow is...wise." He acknowledged with a hint of relief in his voice. "And open communication is crucial."

As she rolled her hips against him once again, he let out a soft breath, a mix of caution and longing in his gaze. "I will. I promise.”

"But..." He added, resting a hand on her hip gently. "I hope you understand it's not that I don't want..." He trailed off, unsure of how to convey the conflicting feelings within him.

Her expression softened from one of intense desire to understanding and she leaned forward and press a kiss to his lips again. After a couple moments, she deep into the kiss and move the hand that was wrapped around his shoulders to thread through his hair. Since she was the one who needed to breathe more than him, she pulled away first.

"I understand. We'll do whatever you're able to."

Jack met her understanding gaze with a nod, grateful for her unwavering support. The gentle press of her lips against his and the soft intertwining of her fingers in his hair brought a sense of solace that eased some of the tension within him.

"I appreciate that more than you know." He said softly, his eyes reflecting a mix of gratitude and the tenderness she instilled in him. "It's...it's different for me. It's not about what I want. It's about what's safe.”

He held her gaze, his thumb gently stroking her cheek. "I don't want to put you at risk. You're important to me." He murmured, the weight of that admission not lost on him.

It was a big jump from a few days ago when he had declared that it would be impossible for them to even be friends. Sara tilted her head to the side curiously but didn't deny that he had become important to her, too. Once again, she suspected that there was something bigger at work there, but there was nothing to be done about it at this point.

"So... what are you comfortable doing?" She could still feel him nestled, hot and hard against her hip. The conversation even in its heaviness hadn't dulled the desire between them.

Jack studied her for a moment, the wheels in his mind turning as he considered her question. He was acutely aware of the current state of both of their bodies, the evidence of it a tangible proof of the connection they shared.

"It's not—" He stopped himself, sighing as he chose his words carefully. "It's not about what's comfortable per se. I need to be...aware. Controlled." He explained.

He pulled his gaze away from her for a brief moment, collecting his thoughts. "I can't afford to get carried away." He added softly, returning his gaze to hers. "But...that doesn't mean we can't explore. Just...within my limits.”

His fingertips brushed lightly against her hip, an assurance that he wasn't simply shutting her out but navigating carefully through the complexities of their situation. "Does that make sense?”

She shivered at his touch, little goosebumps rose on the skin of her hips and traveled up her back in a delicious shiver. A small sigh escaped her against, it was just the slightest deepening in her breath but it was accompanied by a flush of warmth that spread from her chest all the way down to her toes. *Damn, he had her down bad.* Her nose nuzzled against his jaw and she pulled back to give him an assuring nod.

"Yes. That makes perfect sense." Slowly, she moved one hand down his chest in a slow controlled caress, designed to give him just enough to add to the heat building between them-- but not enough to push at his fragile self control.

The shiver that ran through Sara didn't go unnoticed by Jack, the subtle reaction sparking a soft, almost imperceptible smile at the corners of his lips. He appreciated her understanding, and her delicate brush against his jawline filled him with a surprising sense of comfort.

His gaze followed her hand's movement down his chest, his own breath deepening in response. The measured touch spoke volumes, both in her effort to respect his limitations and kindle the growing heat between them.

"Good." He murmured, a slight note of relief in his voice. "I want us to find a balance.”

The connection they shared was complex, but he was determined to make it work. He'd never been in a situation like this before, never felt quite this combination of desire and need for understanding. "And it is important to me that you know..." He added, his gaze steady on her. "It's not that I don't trust myself. I just...I don't trust the Blood Rage.”

Her hand traced back up his chest, over the smooth skin of his throat to play with the gentle curls of his hair. She marveled at it's soft texture, the strands finer and lighter in the morning rays that broke through her window. It was so much different than the thick dark mass of waves that fell down her shoulders. His words brought her attention back to Jack's face and she offered him a small smile. "I trust you too."

She pulled Jack down into a passionate kiss, his soft lips sent a thrill through her and she couldn't stop herself from arching against him. Sara had every intention of exploration, but as the moments stretched on and the heat between them slowly turned into a roaring fire -- She reached for one of Jack's hand's and slid it up where her nightgown rode high on her hip. It was more than a want to feel his hands on her, it was a *need*.

"Touch me?"

Jack was caught off guard by her passion, and then immediately melted into their kiss. The fire between them intensified with every moment, the heat growing hotter as their need for each other deepened.

When her hand guided his towards her exposed hip, he caught his breath. The feel of her skin under his fingertips sent a jolt through him, awakening desires that were both exhilarating and a tad dangerous. Her request cut through the growing intensity, grounding him in the here and now.

"Always." He whispered against her lips, gently tightening his grip on her hip.

His touch was light but intimate, fingers grazing over the exposed skin. He couldn't ignore the undercurrent of caution in his mind, but he was more focused on her. "How...how does this feel for you?" He murmured, his gaze on her face, gauging her reaction closely.

Sara's eyes had fluttered shut at the feeling of his touch, the sensations that Jack awoke were hard for her to control, to not get swept away and simply follow the instincts of her body and urge him to take her. Her breath deepened further and a new kind of restless energy build under her skin...she wanted to feel his hands on her everywhere, to feel him in returned. She trailed affectionate little kisses down Jack's throat.

"That feels really good." She gasped and arched against him again. "Please, don't stop."

Jack's touch remained gentle, guided by her response and his own restraint. The feel of her kisses along his throat sent a shiver down his spine, the sweet combination of affection and desire a potent mix.

He tilted his head, allowing easier access for her while maintaining his focus on her needs and comfort. Her gasp and the arch of her body stirred a similar response within him, but he locked it down, holding tightly to the reins of self-control.

"I won't." He promised softly, his breath a bit hitched. "I'm here.”

He took a moment to steady himself, his fingers lightly caressing her skin in a soothing rhythm. He was acutely aware of their closeness and the fire their connection ignited. "Just...let me know if you need anything." He murmured, gently, emphasizing his attentiveness to her needs.

Sara met his eyes, her own blown large and black as night with desire. The feeling of him pressed against her and his gentle but insistent caresses against her skin were slowly driving her mad. In an unspoken plea she reached between them and carefully moved the hand that was splayed on her hip to the soft skin of her chest where her heart thundered beneath the surface. His hand was large and cool compared to her rushing, living blood, and she shivered again and pulled him closer.

"I just need you." She assured. "I want to make you feel good too."

Jack's gaze met hers, their intensity a reflection of the growing fire between them. He noticed the plea in her eyes, and responded gently yet firmly. At her unspoken request, his hand moved to her chest, resting over her heart. The contrast of cold against her warm skin, the feel of her beating heart under his palm... it grounded him.

He shook his head, a soft sigh leaving his lips. "You do make me feel good." He murmured, his voice filled with warmth. "Just being here with you, like this.”

Her answering smile was tight and she shook her head, her hips rolled against his and felt the pinpoint of pressure there. Sara's free hand hand drifted down to rest on Jack's waist and traced invisible little designs on the sensitive skin there. She wanted nothing more than to pop the button of his jeans and free him, to feel him against her-- "I meant physically, Jack."

Jack's brows lifted slightly at her insistence. While he understood her intention, he also knew that physical intimacy was a dance with a lot of nuances for him. He met her gaze, a hint of seriousness in his expression.

"I know what you meant, Sara." He replied softly. "And I feel it. But physical closeness isn't...it isn't as straightforward for me as it might be for others.”

His hand on her chest rose to cup her cheek, thumb brushing gently against her skin. "It's not about lack of desire or affection. It's..." He struggled for a moment, searching for the right words. "It's about managing something that can sometimes be volatile. It's not just about us, it's about keeping myself...and you, from anything dangerous.”

She covered his hand and held it to her face. After a few deep breaths she managed to calm the storm of desire that had been building within her. If he could keep himself under control, with a condition that seemed to take up so much of his energy just to manage-- then she could keep it in her pants for at least awhile longer. They had just met a few days ago, she reminded herself. This growing need to make him a part of her in every way was...scary, when she stopped to think about it. Powerful in a way that she didn't understand yet.

"So...it's always on your mind? You can't ever let go a little?" She asked cautiously.

Jack observed the shift in her, the slight calming of the whirlwind that had been brewing between them. He respected her for it, understood it was as much for her sake as for his. The mention of his condition, however, brought a tinge of...well, he often didn't like to talk about it. But this was Sara, and he owed her honesty.

"It's a constant vigilance," he admitted, his gaze steady on her. "I can't afford to forget about it or let my guard down. If I do..." He trailed off, the implications clear.

"It's like living on a tightrope," he tried to explain, his tone quieter. "One misstep, and it could end badly. So letting go... it's not easy. And sometimes it's just not worth the risk.”

[iwritesmutnottragedy]

One

The forest was quiet, the kind of stillness that made the hairs on the back of Jack’s neck stand on end. He could hear everything—the rustling of leaves in the breeze, the soft scurrying of a rabbit through the underbrush, even the distant call of a bird somewhere high above. The forest was alive, but in this moment, it felt like it was holding its breath, waiting for something to happen.

Jack sat on a fallen log, his hands gripping the rough bark so tightly that his knuckles had turned white. His breath came in slow, measured gasps as he fought to keep control. The blood rage was always there, lurking just beneath the surface, waiting for any excuse to take over. He could feel it now, the heat rising in his chest, the way his heart pounded in his ears, the overwhelming urge to tear and destroy.

He closed his eyes, trying to push the darkness back, but it was a losing battle. The memories came rushing in—flashes of faces contorted in fear, the metallic scent of blood in the air, the sound of his own voice screaming in fury. Jack's hands trembled as he fought to separate himself from those memories, to remind himself that he wasn’t that monster. Not anymore. But the images were so vivid, so real, that it was hard to remember where the past ended and the present began.

He hadn’t wanted to come here, to the forest, but he knew it was safer this way. Safer for everyone else. Diana had begged him to stay, to let her help him, but Jack couldn’t risk it. Not after what had happened the last time. The fear in her eyes when she saw him like that, the way Matthew had to restrain him—it was too much. He couldn’t bear the thought of hurting them again.

So he had run, deep into the woods where the only things he could harm were the trees and the animals that lived among them. But even here, the blood rage whispered to him, tempting him with its power, urging him to let go. It would be so easy to give in, to allow the darkness to consume him, to stop fighting and just... feel.

Sara had been drawn into the forest by an inexplicable sense, a whisper that traveled down her spine and urged her to go for a hike on a day where she would rather just be curled up reading a good book. Her breath puffed in front of her face, and she paused. The sound of someone distressed in the distance made its way to her sensitive ears. Warning Bells sounded in her mind, but she ignored them and followed the sound until she saw a man sitting on a log. His breathing was loud and uneven, and concerned immediately swamped her.

"Hello?" She called out just loud enough for him to hear. " Are you all right?”

Jack’s head snapped up, his eyes flying open as he registered the sound of a voice. He had been so deep in his struggle for control that he hadn’t even heard her approach. He tensed, his body automatically poised to defend himself. But as he looked at her, he froze.

The voice that spoke to him was soft, concerned, decidedly non-threatening. Jack’s eyes took in the petite woman before him—the slim figure, the brown eyes that glimmered with worry and uncertainty. And her scent, the faint but distinct smell of… weed?

Confusion and tension wrestled within Jack's mind, his mind struggling to process this unexpected presence. He tried to steady his breathing, to calm his racing heart, but it was difficult. The blood rage was like a coiled snake, waiting for the slightest provocation to strike.

"I’m fine," he managed to grumble, the words coming out hoarse and choked. He didn’t want this woman here. He wanted her gone. Safe. Even if he didn’t look or sound ‘fine’ by any means.

Unaware of the danger she was in, Sara trudged closer until she was standing about a foot away from him. This close, she could see the strain in his face, and the edge to his breathing was even more apparent. Her dark eyebrows drew together in an expression of concern. However, she didn't want to force her help on to him. She knew that she wouldn't have appreciated it.

"Is there anything I can do to help? " she asked curiously. Her tone was purposefully light and casual, an attempt to ease the obvious tension between them.

Jack's fingers clenched the bark of the log even more tightly. Her proximity was a danger he hadn't expected. He could smell her, a strange mix of sweet and earthy, but more than that, he could feel her. Her heart beat steady and strong, her blood pumping through her veins, the heat of her body a stark contrast to the cool air of the forest.

He forced himself to look at her, to see the worry in her eyes, the sincerity of her offer. It was hard to believe that she didn’t know how much danger she was in.

"You need to leave," he said, his voice harsh and commanding. "You shouldn't be here. You shouldn't... be near me." The words came out as a warning, but there was a pleading edge to them, a desperate plea for her to listen, to understand.

He wanted to push her away, to make her run, but he also wanted her to stay. Against all reason, he longed for her to sit down nearby, to talk to him, to provide a distraction from the storm that raged inside him.

The wind blew her hair around her ears and her scent wafted away from him as if the spirits of nature itself had intervened on his behalf. Sara tilted her head to the side and allowed the strange magical sixth sense that she carried deep within her to whisper a warning that she finally listened to. Her dark eye is narrowed at him as if she were reading a book in a foreign language and then her brows went up in surprise. "Are you a vampire? "

She hoped that she was right otherwise she knew that she would sound insane to him. As a witch, even one without a coven, of course she knew about the existence of vampires. She'd never met one. But standing here in front of him there was no denying the cool energy that came off of him- a stark contrast to the energy of the warm blooded living that she was used to.

Jack's eyes widened at her question, a hint of surprise flickering across his face. He hadn’t expected her to be able to sense him, to know what he was. But then, there was something about her that was undeniably magical, as if the very air around her hummed with power.

He nodded, a slight dip of his chin, barely more than a gesture of acknowledgment. "Yes," he said, his voice a gravelly whisper. "I’m a vampire.”

Her eyes went wide with surprise, not actually having believed that she guessed it correctly until his confirmation. She offered him a small smile, as polite as she could manage now that her heart was racing a bit in a mixture of fear and excitement. An actual vampire. They weren't rare by any means, but the species didn't interact much as a rule, so she had never expected to meet one at random.

" I'm sorry I didn't mean to bother you. My name is Sara. " She took another hesitant step forward and offered him her hand.

" I've just never met a vampire before. I'm guessing I'm probably not the first witch you've met. " the difference in their lifespans made it that much more likely that he'd interacted with the other species then she had in her 25 years alive.

As she took a step closer, Jack's breath caught in his throat. The scent of her was even stronger now, her blood pumping close to the surface of her skin. It was an alluring, distracting scent, and the blood rage whispered to him that he could take her in an instant, sink his teeth into her warm flesh...

He closed his eyes for a moment, fighting to push the thoughts away. When he opened them again, he found himself drawn to her eyes—wide and dark, filled with an unexpected mixture of curiosity and concern.

He watched warily as she extended her hand towards him, her expression tentative yet sincere. Despite his better judgment, Jack found himself reaching out to take her hand in his own. The touch of her skin was warm against his cool fingers, sending a shiver down his spine.

He shook his head in answer to her question. “No, you’re not,” he admitted. “I’ve met a few witches in my time.”

His eyes scanned her face, searching for any sign of fear or revulsion, but all he could see was that same, relentless curiosity.

His cool hand in hers sent a pleasant shiver up her arm and she gave his hand a quick shake before she pulled away reluctantly. It was odd how something in her wanted to keep touching him. Sara pushed the thought away and really looked at him. There was still a line of undeniable tension in his body that she wondered about, but it would be too forward to ask someone she'd barely met.

"..I didn't get your name?" She reminded him softly and her eyes tracked over his handsome face.

A small, wry smile tugged at the corner of Jack’s mouth. He had been so focused on trying to control the blood rage that he hadn't even introduced himself. He felt a touch of embarrassment at his own rudeness, but there was something about this witch that made it difficult to focus on anything else.

"Jack," he said, his voice low and rough. "My name is Jack.”

He took a deep breath, trying to steady his heart as her eyes studied his face. His skin tingled under her gaze, her scrutiny setting off sparks of awareness in his chest. He was so used to everyone looking at him with either fear or pity, but this witch... She looked at him with interest, as if he was a puzzle she was determined to solve.

"Jack." She repeated with a smile and a nod. It was fitting. Sara stood a little taller, unreasonably happy to have met him before she motioned towards the empty space on the log. She had only planned on a short walk through the forest but now that she was there and had met him she couldn't imagine anything more interesting. "Do you mind if I sit?"

Jack tensed, his body instinctively reacting as she gestured to the space beside him on the log. His mind raced with conflicting thoughts. Part of him wanted her to sit, to stay close, to keep distracting him from the darkness that threatened to consume him. But the other part was screaming at him to push her away, to make her go back to safety.

He hesitated for a moment, but then, to his own surprise, he found himself nodding his agreement. "Sure," he said, his voice gruff and guarded. "You can sit. Just… just don't get too close.”

Her eyebrows came together in confusion but she nodded in agreement anyways. It was an odd request but she would never invade someone's personal space without their permission. Sara approached slowly, careful not to accidentally trigger any predatory instinct in him. She didn't know exactly how vampirism and their hunger worked, and she didn't want to take any more unnecessary risks than she already was by just getting to know him.

"So what were you doing out here in the middle of no where?" She asked as she sat down on the log, her fingers brushed over the moss that grew there almost reverently. "You looked...upset." Jack watched as she carefully settled onto the log beside him, her movements slow and measured, as if she was approaching a wild animal. In a sense, he supposed, she was.

He tensed again at her question, his jaw clenching instinctively. He didn't want to talk about what he had been doing—the blood rage, the fear, the isolation. It was too raw, too personal.

"Just... needed some time alone," he said gruffly, unable to meet her gaze.

Sara looked deep into his eyes, almost through him. There was something about him that she was missing, something important. But she chose to focus on his words instead. She shifted where she sat, her feet dug into the dirt and left tracks there. It was almost too tempting to remove her shoes and feel the earth under her soles but she didn't want to appear too strange in front of her new acquaintance. "I understand that."

Then, as if just realizing the imposition she was putting on him-- Sara blushed and looked down in embarrassment. "And I totally ruined that, huh? I'm sorry. I can go--"

As she moved to stand, a surge of uncharacteristic panic gripped his chest. He didn't want her to leave—not yet. Despite all his reservations, he craved her company, her distraction.

Before he could stop himself, he reached out and gently caught her wrist, his fingers curling around it like a lifeline. "Wait," he said, his voice hoarse. "You don't have to go.”

He let go of her wrist suddenly, as if he only just realized what he had done. He clenched his hand into a fist at his side. "Sorry," he murmured, a shadow of annoyance passing over his features. "I didn't... I'm not used to having company. Or... being close to people.”

She had frozen as soon as his grip had closed around her wrist. A small shock went up her arm, the hairs stood up on end and she looked up at Jack with an expression torn between wary confusion and something deeper. She couldn't deny she'd been drawn to him, and there had to be some kind of reason. The council liked to pretend that all the different Creatures were so separate in their own way-- but she didn't think so. Her magic had lead her to him for some reason, she just knew it.

"It's okay, I get that." Sara was a generally solitary person by nature. She shifted on the log and turned so she could face him better.

"May I ask why? Are people just not your thing or...?" She blushed and realized the question might be too personal. So she decided to answer her own question first in the hopes he might feel a little more comfortable with her inquiries. "I'm not really a people person. Crowds, loud noises, all of it just makes me feel crazy."

He listened quietly as she explained her own aversion to crowded places. There was something in the way she spoke, in the small but telling gestures of her body, that piqued his interest. It was a hint of vulnerability, of a similar isolation he understood all to well.

As she turned to face him, he met her gaze briefly before looking away. "It's not that people aren't my thing," he said after a moment. "It's just that... well, people are complicated. And... I'm... complicated.”

There was an undercurrent of self-deprecation in his tone, a hint that maybe his issues went beyond the typical. It was as if he carried a weight on his shoulders that he didn't want to share, even with someone he'd just met.

Her smile faded into an expression closer to sympathy and she nodded. Sara shifted and brought her legs up on the log so she could sit with her legs crossed, her elbows rested casually on her knees. At his admission of being complicated she gave him a light shrug, an attempt to be casual in the face of his obvious internal struggle. She didn't want him to know that her heart twisted at the pain in his eyes. Sara was just too damn sensitive sometimes and this stranger, this vampire, was quickly working up her compassionate instincts. But there was still something more, a genuine interest in him she couldn't deny. "Well...I like complicated." She quipped. "Do you want to talk about it?"

Jack let out a gruff chuckle that sounded almost like a scoff. The concept of someone enjoying complications was foreign to him, especially when those complexities revolved around him. He couldn't help but find her optimism refreshing, if not a bit naïve.

"And here I was, thinking I was sparing you the drama," he replied dryly, the corner of his mouth twitching into a brief, sardonic smile. "You really want to wade into the mess that is my life?”

Sara noticed the sharp edge to his chuckle and tried not to bristle at the response to her genuine interest. It took only half of a moment for her to realize that it wasn't personal, it was a reflection of some deeper wound that he carried inside. Her head tilted to the side and she attempted to read the energy coming off of Jack. It was something that she could do easily with humans but struggled to get correct with other Creatures. Her magic was powerful but untrained and Sara usually only stuck to her most base abilities for fear of the consequences.

"Sure, I've got time." She ran her fingers back over the moss on the log again, pouring just a little bit of energy in it to help it grow. "But you don't have to tell me anything you don't want to. I know I'm nosy."

Her lack of indignation in response to his gruffness threw him off slightly. Most people were put off by his surliness, not entirely undeservedly. He observed her as she focused on the moss, her touch gentle. The infusion of energy was subtle but unmistakable, and he couldn't help but notice the ease with which she manipulated it.

A sigh escaped him, tinged with both exhaustion and resignation. "It's not that I don't want to talk," he said, finally. "It's just that it's a long story.”

A hint of hesitation still lingered. He wasn't used to opening up, to pouring his thoughts out into the open. But there was something about her, a genuine curiosity and lack of judgement, that made it harder to brush her off outright like he usually would.

"What about you?" He diverted, turning the focus back onto her. "You're not just here to listen to my tragic backstory, are you?”

She leaned back slightly and her eyebrows rose at his deflection. People usually didn't take an interest in her, and she knew part of his curiosity was simply to escape her own probing...but the question brought her up short. She had gone on a walk in the forest because even though her mood had been sour that morning, something had drawn her out. Perhaps it was just nature calling to her, urging her to escape from the cramped confines of her RV...but she was inclined to believe there was something bigger at work. "I think that's exactly why I'm here." Sara answered honestly. "I don't know...I just felt this urge to come out here today. Then I met you...The first vampire I've *ever* met." Her dark eyes darted up to his blue ones and held them there. "I think that means something."

The genuine curiosity in her gaze was captivating, and the conviction in her voice held weight. He could see that she truly believed there was a connection between their encounter.

*A witch and a vampire... fate.*

He almost scoffed at the thought. Fate hasn't been particularly kind to him, and the concept of it leading him to meet this witch in the middle of nowhere was... ludicrous.

"Or," he countered, his voice devoid of any trace of sarcasm for once, "it's just coincidence. The world is a big place, Sara. Not everything has a deeper meaning."

Despite his practicality, there was a subtle flicker in his eyes, a hint that he might not believe that himself.

Sara nodded, succumbing to his point. For all of her superstition and desire to believe that her magic was more than just a fluke of her unskilled mind...her confidence was minimal and easily shaken. He was probably right, she was probably just crazy. A small sigh escaped her and she nodded, her long dark lashes cast shadows across her high cheekbones. "You're right, I'm just being silly."

When she opened them again she seemed to shrink in on herself just a little bit, suddenly self conscious of just how open she'd been with someone she had literally just met. The realization that she'd told him about the most secret part of herself settled into her bones uncomfortably. "I...should probably go. I've bothered you enough."

Her sudden deflation, the shift in her demeanor, tugged at something within him. It was a bit like seeing a flower wither away, and his guilt pricked at him for causing it.

He rubbed a hand over his jaw, a gesture of agitation. "You haven't bothered me, Sara," he said, his tone gentler than before. "You've just... caught me off guard, that's all.”

There was a moment of silence between them, filled only by the sounds of the forest, as if even the trees were holding their breath. He watched her thoughtfully, unsure what he was supposed to say next, or if he *should* say anything at all.

"...Do you want to get out of here? Do something...fun?" She asked curiously. With the way that both of their moods had taken a sudden turn she decided to try and revive the moment. And as much as she was still self conscious of how odd she was to people, she found that she had genuinely been enjoying his company up until that point.

It was a sudden change of subject, and Jack looked at her in slight surprise. After the somber turn their conversation had taken, her invitation for 'fun' was unexpected. But then again, so had been this entire interaction.

"That depends," he arched an eyebrow, the corner of his mouth quirking upwards in a hint of a smile. "What exactly does a witch consider 'fun'?”

She thought about that carefully-- Sara had never tried to hang out with a vampire before. She had no idea what he might consider a good time.

"Do substances still work in your system? Like alcohol or pot?" She asked curiously.

A snort escaped him as he considered her question. It was an intriguing one, to say the least. "Yes," he confirmed with a nod. "In a sense."

"Vampires can get drunk, for sure. The effects just don't last as long. And drugs..." He pondered a moment. "Depends. Some work, some don't.”

Her shoulders sagged in relief and she nodded before she pushed herself up from where she'd felt anchored to the mossy log. If she had allowed herself, if she'd been alone, Sara could have easily gotten distracted and absorbed by the sounds and energy of the forest. It was an active choice for her to remove herself and dust off the leaves and dirt that clung to her tight cotton leggings. "I don't do anything too hard, just tequila and weed."

Sara looked back at Jack and contemplated offering him her hand to help him stand when she thought better of it. His words from earlier warning her to keep her distance echoed in the back of her mind and she crossed her arms over her chest instead. He was a vampire, physically stronger than anyone she had ever met...he didn't need her help to stand up.

"I have a whole bottle of tequila back at my RV, the camp site isn't too far away...Want to split it with me?" It had been a long time since she'd indulged in any day drinking and the opportunity and rare company was just too good to pass up.

Jack watched the sudden shift in her demeanor with amusement. She was a strange mix of contradictions—the cautious witch one moment, the sociable creature the next. His gaze lingered on the action of her dusting off the leaves from her tights, his attention briefly snagged.

At the mention of tequila, a smile tugged at the corners of his mouth. "You're suggesting alcohol to a vampire?" he chuckled, pushing himself off the log with an easy grace.

"I don't know whether to commend your courage or question your sanity." There was a touch of dryness in his voice, a hint of the skepticism he held about any species willingly mingling with a predator as he was. Yet, there was intrigue too, something in the unexpectedness of her offer that caught his attention more than piqued his suspicion.

She kicked at the dirt and offered him a small shrug. Her expression remained casual but the words he chose stuck in her mind like a fly trap and rattled around there. "Both seem like pretty astute observations to me."

He let out a dry chuckle, the sound carried away by the gentle breeze. "I guess courage and insanity often go hand in hand," he mused, a trace of amusement softening his features. "Although, from what I've seen, it seems like witches and their antics aren't far off from the definition.”

His gaze swept over her, as if assessing the situation for any hidden dangers. "So, a vampire and a witch, sharing a bottle of tequila. Quite the unlikely pairing for a drinking session, don't you think?”

She started to walk back the way she came, occasionally looking back to make sure that he was following. She noticed that Jack still kept his distance, he stayed at least a foot away from her, and she wondered why exactly that was. She didn't ask, though. Instead, she just let him out of the forest and back onto the lot of camping spaces. It was lucky that she was one of the only people renting a lot in the past few months. It meant that they didn't have to worry about prying eyes or ears.

"One for the history books." She agreed with a warm smile. The warmth faltered for a moment. She had made it very obvious that she had no qualms about his nature. But she had never stopped to ask if he was bothered by hers. "Does that bother you? That I'm a Witch?"

He matched her pace, keeping the distance between them, ever the cautious vampire. His steps were silent against the path, a stark contrast to her audible steps. "Bother me?" he echoed with a scoff. "I've met creatures far stranger than witches. No," he shook his head, "your species isn't the issue. It's the..."

He trailed off, choosing his words carefully. "Let's just say it's not the norm for vampires and witches to chat about daydrinking in the woods, is all.”

He glanced sideways at her, a brow slightly raised. "You don't seem too bothered by *my* nature." It was a subtle inquiry, hinting at the curiosity of her nonchalance.

She walked up to her RV, an old spray painted Winnebago that was held together with duct tape and pure luck. The metal steps that led inside creaked when she stepped on them to unlock the door. She entered first, not wanting him to think she was trying to trap him or anything nefarious of the sort. Sara leaned against the small fold up dining table and crossed her arms casually.

"I'm not." It was a simple answer but not a common one. "I think the divide between the species is bullshit. We should be working together, helping each other-- not building up imaginary walls and blaming each other for how humans have treated us in the past." It felt like common sense to her, but every other Creature she had met had almost violently disagreed. It was the true reason she was still without a coven, without any training.

"Do you want a shot glass or a regular one?" Sara asked leaned up on her tippy toes to look through one of her overhead cabinets.

Jack followed her up the rickety metal steps, his steps deliberately light so as not to cause any unnecessary disturbance. Stepping inside the RV, he took in the well-lived-in space with a quick, cursory glance. It spoke of character and a no-nonsense existence.

He raised an eyebrow at her response. "That's quite the worldview you've got," he commented, a hint of amusement in his voice. "Not many creatures see things that way.”

"But I understand where you're coming from," he continued, leaning against one of the counters. "Most beings are bound by centuries-old... *grudges*, let's call them, and prejudices. It's a hard thing to break free from."

At her question, he shrugged, a hint of a smile playing on his lips. "A regular glass is fine. I don't think shot glasses will serve much purpose for a vampire.”

Sara pulled a double shot glass for herself and a regular glass for Jack, a grin split her full lips in response. It went without saying that she had never seen a vampire drink before and part of her was curious as to how he would react. Her dark eyes traced over the attractive features of his face before she leaned under her sink to pull out an unopened bottle of tequila and cracked the seal on the cap. "Well lucky me then, my lifespan isn't capable of nearly so much resentment."

She filled the glasses and slid his over to him before downing hers in one smooth movement. It was harsh, bitter...and exactly what she needed to banish any remaining insecurity that had been conjured earlier. "But I still don't really get it. I mean...we seem to be getting along well enough, right? It shouldn't be so hard."

Jack caught the glass with ease, setting it down on the countertop beside him. He watched her with a thoughtful expression as she emptied her own glass without so much as a wince. A hint of amusement flickered in his eyes at her casual disdain for the bitter taste. "Impressive," he commented, a tinge of sarcasm in his voice. "Either you have an iron stomach or a deep love for tequila."

He took a small sip from his own glass, swirling the liquid for a moment. "Getting along doesn't mean we're friends, Sara.”

"Or that we could ever be." He added bluntly, the lines of his face hardening in seriousness. "You shouldn't confuse cordiality with... alliance." He raised his glass in a mock salute, a silent toast. "To unlikely circumstances and temporary truces, I suppose.”

Her eyes narrowed at him and she tried not to be hurt by his blunt response. Had she wanted his friendship? Gauging the way her heart tugged at the words she supposed she had. Sara sighed and nodded, unable to meet his gaze for a moment and instead she focused on filling her glass once more. At his toast her eyebrows went up but she raised her glass up to his regardless. A smirk tugged at her lips and she offered her own sentiments to cheer along side his.

"To fate and breaking the rules." This time she couldn't stop the small hiss as the liquor coated her throat and chilled the air she breathed. All the while a warm, fuzzy feeling was starting to settle in her gut.

"So, not friends then." She agreed and set her glass down just a little harder than she intended. Her eyes roved over his form and she couldn't help the thought that bubbled from her before she could stop it.

"What about lovers?" She couldn't deny the attraction she'd felt for him since laying eyes on him and was curious if he'd felt it as well.

Jack's gaze flicked back to her as she raised her own glass in return. His expression, guarded, remained inscrutable as he listened to her toast. The corner of his mouth twitched in a silent reply.

The abruptness of her question, however, caught him off guard. He blinked, his expression one of surprise for a moment before it schooled into a neutral mask. "Lovers?" he repeated, his tone flat, almost void of emotion. "Is that a serious question?”

She leaned back and crossed her arms in front of her chest. Sara wasn't sure if he wasn't taking her seriously, or if the idea of having sex with her was really that surprising. She schooled her features as best she could and tried to appear as nonchalant as possible. "Yeah, why not? I'm not saying anything serious-- just...A little fun for the day."

Though a secret part of her knew that it would be something more. There was a strange but unmistakable bond threading between them. He might not believe in fate but she did and Sara knew that it had intervened in some way that day. She couldn't push him away now if she tried.

He stared at her, incredulous. "Just 'a little fun for the day'?" he echoed, arching an eyebrow at her nonchalance.

Jack was no stranger to physical intimacy. He'd had his fair share of conquests. But those were fleeting, casual encounters with creatures of his own ilk. The offer from Sara, a witch who knew nothing about his true nature, was different. It wasn't something he could consider lightly, even as a joke.

"I think you're forgetting something pretty crucial here," he pointed out, setting his glass down gently. "You're not dealing with a human, Sara. I'm a vampire. We have our... restrictions, you know.”

He folded his arms across his chest, a hint of seriousness creeping into his tone. "What you're suggesting isn't just 'a little fun for the day'. It's... risky.”

She frowned and noticed his suddenly closed off demeanor. Her dark eyebrows came together and she placed her palms down flat on the counter, staring at him as if she were trying to knock down a brick wall with her mind alone. "Not if we don't tell anyone."

"If you think it's about the secrecy--" He clicked his tongue, a sound of disapproval. "You're missing the point by a mile."

He met her gaze with a look of incredulity. "Sara, vampires can... let's say, be particularly 'passionate' in intimate situations. It's a part of our... nature. It's not like a casual affair among humans.”

"You're not thinking of the consequences here." Despite his apparent annoyance, there was a trace of concern in his eyes. "You can't casually invite a vampire into your bed, or your life, and expect everything to be fine the next day.”

[iwritesmutnottragedy]

A couple days after Hawk's birth. Seven is recovering and Sara is helping Jaguar-Paw take care of her and the children. However it's finally time to answer Seven's questions on how they met...and the odd connection that seems to exist between the two of them.

Seven was lying on the bedroll, her body tired and sore from the birth. But her eyes were bright and curious, and she was eager to hear the story of how Sara and Jaguar-Paw had met.

"So," she said, her voice a little raspy. "How did the two of you meet? I want to hear the whole story.”

Jaguar-Paw smiled, his expression soft as he looked at his wife. He was sitting next to her, and he reached out to take her hand in his.

"It was quite an unusual meeting," he said, his voice a low rumble. "The Chontal had taken most of the village captive...and she was among us. She managed to hide a knife and we used it to escape.”

Sara blushed and nodded, She was balancing Turtle's-Run in her lap as he tried to use her as a jungle gym. Her fondness for Jaguar-Paw's children only seemed to be growing by the day and she tickled the toddler's belly mercilessly and delighted in his giggles. "Then we ran and hid, they found us and your husband kicked serious ass." 

Jaguar-Paw chuckled at the memory, his eyes sparkling with pride.

"I did what I had to do to keep us alive," he said, his voice gruff. "And luckily, she had my back."

Seven looked at him with curiosity, her eyes widening. "Really?" she said, her voice filled with surprise. "She knows how to fight?”

Sara blushed, still only able to understand bits and pieces of their language after days of hearing nothing else. Her eyes looked down at the ground and she asked Jaguar-Paw mentally– What did she say? 

Jaguar-Paw glanced at Sara, a flicker of amusement in his eyes. He could feel her sense of embarrassment through their connection, and he couldn't help but find it endearing.

Seven wants to know if you can fight, he projected back to her mentally. She's surprised.

Sara laughed and shook her head. "Tell her 'barely'. My job is healing, not fighting." 

Jaguar-Paw chuckled at her response, and relayed her message to Seven.

Seven looked at her in surprise and admiration, her eyes wide. "You can fight and heal?" she exclaimed. "Is there anything you can't do?”

Sara blushed at her relayed praise, her embarrassment increasing with each compliment. She shrugged shyly, trying to downplay her abilities.

"I just do what needs to be done," she said, trying to keep her voice casual. "And fighting isn't my main skill set anyways.”

Seven raised an eyebrow, her expression skeptical. "Not your main skill set, huh?" she said, a hint of teasing in her voice. "And what would you say is your main skill set, then?”

Her lips thinned and she looked at Jaguar-Paw nervously. It was hard to resist fidgeting. How much should we tell her? She asked, mouth opening and closing silently like a fish. Jaguar-Paw had believed she could do magic because there was no way to deny it...She had no idea how his wife would react to something like that. 

Jaguar-Paw could feel her anxiety and uncertainty through their connection, and he gave her hand a reassuring squeeze.

It's okay, he sent back mentally. We don't need to tell her everything. Just enough to satisfy her curiosity.

He looked back at Seven, his expression serious but gentle.

"Sara has...skills that go beyond what you might expect," he said carefully. "Skills that are difficult to explain.”

Seven looked at them both, her curiosity piqued. She could sense that there was something they weren't telling her, something they were keeping to themselves.

"Skills like what?" she asked, her voice eager.

Jaguar-Paw glanced at Sara, silently asking for her permission. He didn't want to disclose anything that she wasn't comfortable revealing.

*Go ahead. I trust you.* She sent back to him with a silent little nod. He would know how to explain it in a way that Seven could understand, and she didn't want to risk upsetting the other woman while she was still recovering from a serious medical event. 

Jaguar-Paw nodded, reassured by her trust in him. He turned back to Seven and began to explain, his voice low and gentle.

"Sara is...connected to nature and magic in a way that most people are not," he said. "She has the ability to communicate with animals, and she can heal people with her mind.”

Seven's eyes widened in fascination, her curiosity growing with each word he spoke. "She can do what?" she said, her voice filled with awe. "How is that even possible?”

Jaguar-Paw shrugged, knowing that he was only scratching the surface of what Sara was truly capable of. "It's hard to explain," he said. "But it's...something that she was born with. She has a deep connection to the natural world, and she can use that connection to do things that others can only dream of.”

Seven was silent for a moment, processing this new information. She had never heard of anything like this before, and it was difficult for her to wrap her mind around it.

Finally, she spoke up, her voice filled with wonder. "So...she's like a shaman," she said, the word foreign on her tongue. "A...a witch, even.”

Jaguar-Paw nodded, pleased that she had made the connection. "Yes," he said. "That's...a good way to put it. She's a shaman, a witch, and a healer all rolled into one. Her connection to nature and magic is...unprecedented, at least in my experience.”

Seven shook her head in disbelief, still struggling to comprehend the enormity of it. "I never would have guessed," she said, her voice soft. "She seems so...normal. So down to earth.”

Jaguar-Paw chuckled softly, amused by her reaction. "That's part of what makes her so special," he said. "She's able to keep her extraordinary abilities hidden, and live a relatively normal life. But when the situation calls for it, she can tap into her full power and do things that are...beyond belief.”

Seven was silent for a moment, her mind racing with questions. "Can she...do magic?" she asked, her voice hushed with awe. "Can she cast spells?”

Jaguar-Paw nodded, his expression proud and admiring. "Yes," he said. "She can cast spells, summon spirits, and use magic to do all sorts of things. She's...phenomenal, really.”

Her cheeks were hot and she tried to busy herself playing with the toddler in her lap. It was much easier than listening to Jaguar-Paw shower her in compliments. It was a surprise and she couldn't help but let a little of it bleed through their connection. Sure, she knew that they had grown close from their experience escaping the Chontal patrols...but she didn't know his respect for her was so deep. 

"You're making me sound way better than I am." She said quietly. "All I did was heal you, cast a spell I had no idea how to do and then cause some simple distractions so you could take out a whole patrol of elite warriors. Not...nothing that impressive." 

Jaguar-Paw chuckled lowly, amused by her attempt to downplay her abilities. He could sense her embarrassment and shyness through their mental connection, but he also knew how truly formidable she was.

"You're too modest," he said, his voice warm and affectionate. "You did more than just heal me. You saved us both with your quick thinking and your magical talents. And I don't think those 'simple distractions' you spoke of were quite as simple as you're making them out to be.”

Seven was listening intently to their exchange, her eyes flickering back and forth between them. She could tell that there was a deep bond between them, and it intrigued her.

"It sounds like you two have been through a lot together," she said, her voice thoughtful. "A lot of hardships and dangers.”

Jaguar-Paw nodded, his expression turning more serious. "That's an understatement," he said. "We were captured by the Chontal, and we had to escape and fight our way out. It was...a harrowing experience.”

"But through it all," he continued, "Sara was there by my side, doing everything she could to help me and keep me safe. She saved my life more than once, and she never backed down or gave up, no matter how dire the situation. She's...the strongest person I know.”

"Besides you," She interjected quickly speaking to Seven, and reached a hand forward to take one of hers which rested on her still swollen stomach. Though every day the other woman was shrinking back to her pre-pregnancy size in a way that had Sara in awe. The last thing she wanted was for his wife to feel any sort of jealousy toward her. Her dark eyes pinned Jaguar-Paw with an intense stare. "Right?" 

Jaguar-Paw chuckled, his expression softening as he met her intense stare. He knew that she was worried about how Seven would react to their close bond, but he had no doubt about where his loyalty lay.

"Of course," he said, his voice firm. "My loyalty and love are with you, Seven. You're my wife and the mother of my children. Nothing will ever change that.”

Seven's expression softened, and she smiled weakly at the reassurance. She knew that Jaguar-Paw loved her passionately and fiercely, and she trusted him wholeheartedly. But a small part of her still felt a pang of jealousy at the thought of him spending so much time with another woman.

Nonetheless, she forced herself to push those feelings down, and nodded in agreement.

"I know that," she said, her voice soft. "I trust you completely.”

Jaguar-Paw felt a pang of guilt at the hint of uncertainty in Seven's voice. He knew that his relationship with Sara was a touchy subject for her, and he didn't want to cause her any pain or distress. But he also knew that they needed Sara's help, and that her presence was a necessary part of their lives, at least for now. 

"I'm glad you trust me," he said, his voice gentle. "But I also want to reassure you that nothing will ever come between us. You and our children are my first priority, always.”

Seven nodded slowly, her expression reflecting her mixed emotions. She knew that Jaguar-Paw loved her and their family deeply, and she trusted him implicitly. But she couldn't help feeling a pang of insecurity at the thought of another woman being so important to him. 

She looked over at Sara, studying her closely. She had to admit that the other woman was attractive and striking, and there was a undeniable spark between her and her husband.

Sara's shoulders came up nervously, the weight of Seven's stare heavy on her. There was a seed of guilt in the pit of her gut. She knew that she had crossed boundaries by creating a magical bond with Seven's husband. It was a small relief that they hadn't disclosed that much just yet. She couldn't imagine how the other woman was feeling. Was she hurt? Confused? Sara bit her bottom lip hard and looked over to Jaguar-Paw in the hopes he would know what to say. 

"I would never do anything to hurt your family." She promised. 

Jaguar-Paw nodded in agreement, his expression reassuring. He could sense Seven's insecurity and Sara's guilt, and he understood both. He knew that they both cared deeply for him and their family, and that they were both trying to do what was best for everyone involved.

"I know you wouldn't," he said. "And I know that you wouldn't do anything to intentionally cause any problems for us either. We all care about each other and our family.”

Seven nodded slowly, her expression softening a bit. She saw the genuine concern and understanding in Jaguar-Paw's eyes, and it reassured her that he cared about her feelings and her place in their family.

She turned back to Sara, her gaze shifting to study the other woman. She could see the guilt and uncertainty in her expression, and it stirred up a mixture of feelings in her. But ultimately, she knew that Sara was trying her best to do right by them, and she appreciated that.

After a few moments of silence, Seven spoke up, her voice hesitant.

"Can I...ask you a question?”

Seven took a deep breath, her expression serious. She knew that the question she was about to ask could possibly cause tension and discomfort, but she needed to know the truth.

"Did...did something happen between you and Jaguar-Paw?" she asked, her voice soft but earnest. "Something...romantic or intimate?”

There was a long, tense moment of silence as Sara and Jaguar-Paw both froze, uncertain of how to respond. They both knew that this question was coming, but they hadn't quite prepared for it yet.

Sara looked to Jaguar-Paw with a mixture of trepidation and apology in her eyes, silently asking him how to respond.

Jaguar-Paw swallowed hard, his expression sheepish. His connection to Sara allowed him to sense her guilt and uncertainty, and he knew that they couldn't hide the truth from Seven forever. 

He took a deep breath, trying to keep his voice calm and steady. 

"There was...something," he admitted, his voice barely above a whisper. "A...connection between us.”

Seven's eyes widened in surprise, her lips parting in shock as she processed this information. Her heart skipped a beat, and a wave of emotions washed over her - hurt, betrayal, sadness, anger. But she tried to keep her expression neutral, not wanting to jump to conclusions or react too hastily.

After a few moments of silence, she spoke up, her voice trembling with emotion. "What...kind of connection?”

Jaguar-Paw glanced at Sara, silently communicating with her through their mental connection. He knew that the next words he spoke would be pivotal to how Seven reacted and how their relationship would be affected.

He took a deep breath, his expression earnest and contrite. "It's...complicated," he said. "It's not what you're probably thinking. It's not...romantically or physically intimate.”

Seven's brow furrowed in confusion, her eyes still filled with a mix of emotions. "Then...what is it?" she asked, her voice laced with skepticism and a hint of hope. "How can you have a connection like that with another woman and not have it be romantic or physical?”

Jaguar-Paw paused, his expression serious and earnest. He knew that his next words would be difficult for Seven to hear, but he also knew that they needed to be honest with each other.

"It's a...mental connection," he said, his voice soft but firm. "We have a...mind link, a mental bond. We can communicate with each other without speaking. It...developed accidentally, during our escape.”

Seven's eyes widened in shock and disbelief, her mind struggling to comprehend this revelation. "A mental connection?" she repeated, her voice barely above a whisper. "You mean...you can read her thoughts? And she can read yours?”

Jaguar-Paw nodded, his expression filled with remorse. He could sense the disbelief and hurt in her voice, and it pained him to see her react like this.

"Yes," he said, his voice sincere. "We can...read each other's thoughts, and...feel each other's emotions.”

Seven's expression turned to one of hurt, sadness, and confusion. She didn't know how to process this information, or how to feel about it. The idea that her husband and another woman had such a deep, intimate connection, even if it was only mental, was difficult for her to accept. 

She closed her eyes for a moment, struggling to keep her emotions in check.

Sara could see Seven struggling and felt a deep wave of guilt in the pit of her stomach. Her large dark eyes took on a sad light and she stood up and offered her hand toward Turtle's-Run. "We're going to go looking to ripe mangoes and let you two talk...let me know when you want us to head back. I promise to stay nearby." 

As Sara spoke up and offered to take the toddler with her, Jaguar-Paw gave her a grateful nod. He knew that she was offering them some much-needed privacy to talk and to process everything that had just been revealed.

He watched as Sara left with the child, his mind still racing with thoughts and emotions. He turned his gaze back to Seven, his expression remorseful.

"Seven," he began, his voice low and tentative. "I know that this is a lot to take in, and I'm sorry for keeping it from you. But please believe me when I say that there is absolutely nothing romantic or intimate between Sara and me. The connection we have is...purely mental and it was entirely unintentional.”

Seven took a deep breath, her expression guarded and unreadable. She could sense the remorse and honesty in his voice, but she was still struggling with the revelation that there was such a deep connection between him and another woman.

"But...how is that even possible?" she asked, her voice trembling. "How can you have such a deep connection with another woman without it being romantic or intimate?”

Jaguar-Paw tried his best to explain, his voice soft and patient. "It just...happened," he said. "It's not like anything that either of us have experienced before. It was completely random, unintentional, and...unexpected."

He paused, searching for the right words to explain the complexity of the situation. "It's not like I...chose for this to happen. It just...did. And we've been trying to figure out how to deal with it ever since.”

Seven listened intently, her expression conflicted. She could sense the sincerity and honesty in his voice, but it didn't do much to alleviate the hurt and confusion she was feeling.

"But...how can I trust that nothing physical or romantic will happen between you two?" she asked, her voice choked with emotion. "How do I know that you won't...develop feelings for her?”

Jaguar-Paw shook his head vigorously, his expression earnest and sincere. "Seven, I want you to know that I am fully committed to you and our family," he said, his voice firm but gentle. "Nothing, and I mean nothing will ever change that. I have no romantic feelings for Sara, and I never will. She is just someone who helped us escape, and has been helping us since then. That's all.”

Sara could feel his answer to her through their bond and did her best to shove her feelings down, knowing that she had no right to be hurt by his response. That's all. Repeated in her head tauntingly and she quickly slammed a mental wall up on her side of the connection so that he wouldn't be able to tell how deeply she was affected by his words. Instead she focused on his son and grinned as the boy brought her handfuls of ripe fruit for them to collect and bring back to his parents. 

Inside his mind, Jaguar-Paw felt a sudden, unexpected shift in Sara's emotions, as if she had suddenly shut him out completely. He could no longer sense her thoughts or emotions, and it left him feeling confused and concerned. 

He tried to mentally reach out to her, but it was like a wall had been built up between them, blocking his access to her thoughts. He couldn't quite understand what had just happened or why she had shut him out so suddenly.

He turned his attention back to Seven, pushing aside his thoughts about Sara for the moment. "Seven," he said, his voice soft and earnest. "I need you to believe me when I say that there is nothing romantic or physical between me and Sara. She is just someone who has been helping us, and that's all. I care about her, but I am fully committed to you and our family, and that will never change.”

Seven took another deep breath, her expression still guarded. She wanted to believe him, but the revelation of this mental connection between him and another woman was hard to process. She had never imagined that something like this could happen, and it made her feel uncertain and insecure.

"I...I don't know what to say or what to think," she said, her voice shaking slightly. "It's just...so unexpected and weird. I don't understand how something like this can even happen.”

Jaguar-Paw nodded, his expression empathetic. "I know," he said. "And I completely understand how you feel. I'm just as confused and baffled by this connection as you are. It's not something that either of us expected or planned for, and we're still figuring out how to deal with it.”

He pause for a moment, his expression sincere and earnest. "But please believe me when I say that I am fully committed to you and our family. I love you, and nothing will change that. I would never do anything to hurt you or our family, and I would certainly never cheat on you.”

He reached out and took her hand, holding it gently in his own. "I know this situation is strange and difficult, and I know that you're feeling confused and uncertain. But please, trust me when I say that I have no romantic or physical feelings for Sara. She is just a friend and ally, nothing more.”

As Seven was caught up in her emotions and the difficult conversation with Jaguar-Paw, she suddenly clutched her stomach, a sharp pain stabbing through her lower abdomen.

Jaguar-Paw noticed the look of pained surprise on her face, and his expression instantly shifted to one of concern and worry. "What's wrong?" he asked, his voice urgent. "Are you okay?”

Seven's face paled, and she clutched her stomach tighter. "I don't know," she said, her voice tight with pain. "I'm having really severe cramping and pain in my stomach. It hurts so much…”

Jaguar-Paw's mind immediately went to the worst possible scenarios - had something gone wrong with the birth? Was Seven experiencing complications from the delivery? He cursed himself for not noticing sooner that something was wrong.

He gently placed a hand on her shoulder, trying to comfort her despite the mounting panic he was feeling. "I will be right back, my love," he said, his voice firm and urgent. Quickly he got to his feet and left the small hunter's cabin they were staying in, rushing outside and looking frantically for the only person he knew who could fix this. 

Who could heal her. 

 Sara. 

He spotted Sara a short distance away, sitting on a nearby rock and sorting through a small pile of ripe fruit with their son, Turtle's-Run. He quickened his pace until he was standing in front of her, his expression urgent and pleading.

"Sara," he said, his voice a mix of urgency and pleading. "Please, help us. Something is wrong with Seven. She's in pain and it's getting worse.”

She could feel Jaguar-Paw's panic through their bond and quickly she dropped the mental wall that she had put up earlier. Sara searched through his mind, already on her feet and moving back into the cabin. When he made to follow her she turned and sent a sharp look towards his son. "He needs to stay out here with you. He...he can't see this." 

Jaguar-Paw nodded in understanding. He knew that seeing his mother in pain and struggling would be too much for their young son to handle. He scooped up the child up into his arms and held him close.

"Go, Sara," he said, his voice tight with worry. "Please, help her. I trust you.”

The weight of those words was not lost on her. She gave him a serious nod and quickly ducked past the leather flap door. Immediately she could tell that something was wrong. Seven's breathing was harsh and she was shaky and pale. Sara knelt by her side and placed a hand on her back. With the two of them barely able to communicate she knew most of this would be based off of her tone...and how much Seven was willing to trust her. 

"Hey, just try to relax." She murmured, needing to lower her into a laying position so she could try and find the problem. 

Seven's breathing was labored and shaky, and her face was pale and beaded with sweat. She clutched her stomach tightly, still experiencing intense cramping and pain.

She looked up at Sara with a mixture of pain, uncertainty, and desperation in her eyes. She was scared and confused, and didn't know what was happening to her body.

But as Sara placed her hand on her back, Seven felt a brief, unexpected wave of comfort and reassurance. She didn't know why, but she trusted this stranger.

Seven winced in pain as she laid down, her body still wracked with cramping and discomfort.She looked up at Sara with a pleading expression. "Please, help me..." she whimpered, her voice barely above a whisper.

Sara had learned enough of their language in the short time with them to recognize the words and she nodded, meeting Seven's pained gaze. With a calming breath to get rid of her nerves-- she needed to concentrate, gently her hands hovered over the still swollen contracting stomach of Jaguar-Paw's wife. Her magic rushed to the palms of her hands. The heat could be felt on Seven's clammy skin even as Sara's hands still hovered, assessing the damage. 

Shit. This is bad. She informed Seven's husband. Her...her womb is rupturing. There was so much internal bleeding happening, and quickly. This was far more serious than the simple leg sprain she'd healed on him. 

As Jaguar-Paw heard Sara's words through their mental connection, his heart skipped a beat and cold dread filled his chest. Womb rupturing. Was Seven in danger of dying? The thought was almost impossible to bear.

Inside his mind, he responded to her silently, his worry and fear evident in his tone. Can you fix it? Can you heal her and save her? Please, whatever you can do, do it. I cannot lose her.

It felt as if part of her own heart were breaking through the bond. Any fear that she had, any reservation about using too much of her magic and the consequences of that went out the window. This was his wife, the mother of his children and who they had spent so long in the jungle trying to get back to...and Sara was just some weird woman from the future. She sighed and prepared to put up the mental wall once more, not wanting him to experience this through the bond. It...would hurt. 

Yes. I'll fix it. I promise. 

The wall came up in her mind, stealing just a fraction of her concentration. Sara lowered her hands onto Seven's hips on either side. She felt her life energy surge into the other woman's body. It soaked up her magic like a dry sponge and she went along with it-- allowing the instinct to pour herself out and heal what was broken carry her away. It didn't take long for her to find the injury deep inside of Seven. Slowly, she began to mend it, her magic stopping the bleeding and doing its best to repair the weak and damaged organ. 

The moment that Sara began channeling her magic into Seven, Jaguar-Paw could sense the surge of power and energy through their mental bond. He flinched as he felt a sudden, intense wave of pain flowing from Seven's mind into his.

His heart ached with sympathy and helplessness as he watched Sara work, trying to mend his wife's injured womb and stop the bleeding. It was excruciating for him to watch, but he knew that there was nothing he could do but wait. 

Inside his mind, he sent a silent message to Sara. Please, save her. Please, I need her to live…

As Sara's magic began to work its healing on Seven, she found herself sinking further and further into her powers, her energy and life force being poured out into her healing work to repair the wounded organs and stop the bleeding. Her hands trembled slightly where they were still placed on the other woman's hips. 

The healing process was intense, consuming, and exhausting, and it was clear from the sweat beading her brow and the look of determination and concentration on her face that she was pouring every ounce of her strength and power into saving Seven's life. A sharp echoing pain had started in her own stomach and she did her best not to double over. 

The bleeding had stopped and the wound was closed--but she kept pouring her energy into Seven. Sara needed to know for sure nothing would happen like this again. Even as her head started to swim and dark spots danced in front of her eyes. 

Seven's breathing slowly began to even out and the pain in her stomach started to subside, thanks to Sara's healing power. But as the healing process continued, it became evident that something was wrong with the healer herself.

Jaguar-Paw, watching from outside the cabin, saw the beads of sweat on Sara's brow and the look of strain on her face. He knew that she was pushing herself too hard, pouring all of her strength and energy into the healing process.

Sara, he thought, his voice filled with urgency. Be careful. You're pushing too hard. You're hurting yourself.

The wall in her mind came up a little harder in denial. 

He needed this. She needed to make sure Seven was safe. Finally, she could sense the integrity of the other woman's womb returning. It would now be able to contract back to it's normal size without risking another rupture. However...the pain in her own stomach was sudden and sharp and stole her breath away. It was an immediate consequence of using to much of her valuable life energy with not ritual or supplies. Only the magic inside her. 

It had almost not been enough. 

Sara swayed and managed to get to her feet with blinding effort. She stumbled towards the corner, hitting her shoulder hard against the wall before sliding down into a crumpled sitting position. Slowly, she allowed some of the mental block to fade, just enough that she could send through, It's done.

Jaguar-Paw felt the sudden shift in Sara's mental block, and he could sense her exhaustion and pain through their connection. The wave of relief that washed over him at the news that Seven would be okay was quickly replaced by worry for Sara's well-being.

Seven is okay, he responded, his thoughts thick with concern. But what about you? You're hurt. You're in pain. What did you do?

She didn't have the energy to explain, too consumed by the exhaustion and struggle to keep her breathing slow and even. The pain in her stomach was intense and she briefly wondered how Seven had managed to stop herself from screaming. Sara looked over at the other woman, still dazed but coming back to herself more and more by the minute. 

I had to save her. I'll...it'll be okay. Her cheek pressed against the dirt floor of the hut and she let out a small uncontrollable whine. 

Jaguar-Paw's concern only grew as he heard the small whine of pain. It was obvious that Sara was hurting, and he was terrified that she had seriously injured herself in her effort to save Seven.

You need help, he sent back urgently. Please, let me in. Let me see you. I need to check on you, make sure you're okay.

The last of her mental block faded at his pleading tone despite her desire to keep him from sensing the intensity of her pain. Sara nodded, but realized he wasn't actually there and couldn't see her a moment later. Curling up as tightly as she could, she responded weakly, Yeah, it's over...you both can come back now.

Jaguar-Paw let out a sigh of relief as the mental block fully faded, allowing him to see into Sara's thoughts once more. He could sense her exhaustion and pain, and it only fueled his worry.

Without wasting another moment, he burst into the small hunters cabin, placing his son down on a pile of blankets and immediately rushing to Sara's side. He knelt down beside her, his eyes roving over her body, taking in the sweat on her brow and the way she was curled up in pain.

"What did you do?" he whispered, his voice low and urgent.

He reached out a tentative hand, gently touching her arm, trying to assess the extent of her injuries. He knew she had used her magic to heal Seven, but the severity of her own condition was not yet clear to him.

"Please, speak to me," he urged, his voice desperate and pleading. "Are you bleeding? Is there something wrong inside of you? You have to tell me what you did to yourself.”

She shuddered at his touch, leaning into the comfort of his hand. Her breathing was harsh to her own ears and Sara struggled to get it under control. Her full lips opened and closed silently as she struggled for the words. In the end she was too weak, too distracted, and was forced to rely on their bond to tell him what she had done. And the consequences she now had to deal with. 

It was serious. Potentially a mortal complication, She explained, looking over at where Seven was still gathering her bearing from the healing. My magic...wasn't strong enough to do it on my own. So I just...took whatever was left. It sucks. It hurts, 

She cringed against the weakness in that confession, her body curling a little tighter. But it'll pass. I should be fine. 

Jaguar-Paw's stomach churned and twisted at her words. The realization of what she had done, the self-sacrifice she had made in order to save his wife and child, hit him like a punch to the gut.

"Sara..." he breathed, his voice filled with awe and horror. "You...you depleted your own magic. You risked your own life to save Seven."

He closed his eyes for a moment, struggling to process the enormity of what she had done. How am I supposed to ever repay you for this?

He reached out and gently touched her hair, tangling his fingers in the soft strands. He wanted to reach out and embrace her, to hold her close and never let her go. But he knew she was in pain, and any sudden movement could make it worse.

"Are you sure you'll be okay?" he asked, his voice laced with worry. "Is there anything I can do to help? I don't want you to suffer because of what you've done for us.”

She shuddered at his touch, leaning into the comfort of his hand. Her breathing was harsh to her own ears and Sara struggled to get it under control. Her full lips opened and closed silently as she struggled for the words. In the end she was too weak, too distracted, and was forced to rely on their bond to tell him what she had done. And the consequences she now had to deal with. 

"I'll be fine. I just need to rest." Despite every better judgment telling her it was wrong, she brought his knuckles to her mouth and pressed a gentle kiss there. "Go to your wife. I'll be okay." 

Jaguar-Paw felt a flutter in his chest at her gentle kiss on his knuckles. It was a small gesture, but it sent a wave of emotions coursing through him.

But he knew she was right. Seven needed him. She was still weak and vulnerable after her ordeal, and he couldn't abandon her now.

He withdrew his hand, feeling a pang of reluctance as her lips left his skin. "Okay," he whispered to her. "I'll come back to check on you later. Promise me you'll rest.”

He stood up, his eyes lingering on her for a moment before he reluctantly turned his attention back to Seven. He knelt down beside her, gently taking her hand in his own.

"How are you feeling?" he asked, his voice soft and full of concern.

Seven looked up at him, her eyes weary but relieved. "I...I'm okay," she whispered, her voice still shaky. "What about Sara? Is she..." She trailed off, unable to finish the sentence.

Jaguar-Paw swallowed hard, struggling to keep his emotions in check. "She will be okay," he said, his voice firm. "But she...she used her magic to heal you. And she drained herself doing it. She'll need rest and time to recover.”

Seven's eyes widened in shock and admiration. "She...she did that for me?" she asked, her voice filled with awe. "But why? She didn't even know me. Why would she take such a risk for me?”

Jaguar-Paw's heart swelled with love and gratitude for Sara. "Because she is a kind and selfless person," he said simply. "She wouldn't let you suffer, not if she could do something to help. That's just who she is.”

Seven's eyes filled with tears, her heart touched by Sara's selflessness. "I don't know how to thank her," she whispered, her voice thick with emotion.

Jaguar-Paw leaned in and gave her a gentle hug. "We'll find a way," he assured her. "But for now, you need to rest, too. You've been through a lot.”

Seven nodded, leaning into his embrace. "I'm so tired," she murmured, her eyes already fluttering with exhaustion.

Jaguar-Paw held her close, gently stroking her hair as she slowly drifted off to sleep. He glanced over at Sara, a pang of longing and worry in his chest.

He knew he should go back to Sara, check on her and make sure she was okay. But he couldn't bring himself to leave Seven's side just yet. He sat there, holding his wife's hand and watching her sleep with their new baby curled up at her side and their oldest tucked between them, his mind whirling with thoughts of Sara and the incredible thing she had done for them.

As the minutes passed, his impatience and worry grew. He could see the exhaustion etched on Sara's face, could feel the faint fluttering of her pain through their mental connection, and it tore at him. He needed to see her, to know she was okay.

Finally, he carefully shifted himself out of his wife's grip and stood up, casting a glance towards Seven and the children before quietly making his way back to Sara's side.

He knelt down next to her, his eyes roving over her body once more. She looked even more pained than before, her breathing ragged and labored. He reached out a tentative hand, gently touching her arm. "Sara," he whispered. "Can you hear me?”

Her eyes stayed closed but she could sense his closeness through their bond more than anything, that and the shadow that fell over her as he knelt next to her. Her skin was cool and clammy to the touch and she let loose a small shiver. Her entire body felt like lead and it took all of her strength just to shift so she could look up at him through her barely parted lashes. I can hear you.

Jaguar-Paw's heart ached at the sight of her pain. Her skin was cold and clammy, and she looked so fragile. He gently reached out and pushed a strand of hair away from her face, his touch feather-light.

"How are you feeling?" he asked softly, his voice filled with concern. "Is the pain any better?”

Sara sighed at his touch and gave a small nod. "Yeah, I'm healing on my own it just...takes it out of me." But at least she would live. Her body worked to heal the injury that would have easily taken Seven's life. With determination she tried to sit up, but froze and gave up quickly as her arms refused to support her weight. 

"I don't usually heal anything that serious. This..is probably a first, actually." 

Jaguar-Paw placed a gentle hand on her shoulder, holding her in place. "Don't try to sit up," he urged her. "You need to conserve your strength. Just rest, let your body heal itself."

He paused for a moment, his eyes flickering down to her stomach. "Sara...can I ask you something?" he said, his voice low.

She sagged against his touch, too tired to argue. Jaguar-Paw's attention got her curiosity though and she looked up at him with tired eyes, but her expression was open and curious. "Of course. You know that." 

Jaguar-Paw took a deep breath, steeling himself for her reaction to his question. He knew it was a sensitive subject, but he couldn't help but wonder about the toll her magic had taken on her body.

"Sara...did using your magic like that..." he paused, his voice catching in his throat. "Did it...hurt your...womb? Is everything...okay inside?”

She was silent for a long, drawn out minute. Being honest with him about this might break something between them-- it could certainly affect the way he saw her. What she did know about his culture was that a woman's role was very important...and much of it was based around her ability to create life. One of Sara's hands tightened around her middle, and she tried to push away the fear that she had done something permanent on a whim. 

"...It's just a small tear. I should heal." She murmured. 

Jaguar-Paw felt a wave of relief wash over him at her answer. A small tear could heal. It wasn't permanent damage. But he still sensed the fear and uncertainty in her voice, and he knew there was something more.

He moved his hand down to her stomach, gently resting it there. "But...?" he prompted, his voice laced with concern. "Is there something you're not telling me? Something more?”

Her lips thinned and she tried to take comfort from his touch instead of the insecurity that was building inside of her. "It could affect my fertility. I might not be able to..." 

She sighed, the words dying in her mouth. It had never been something she thought much about, but here in the quiet hours of the morning she couldn't help but wonder...What had she done? When all this was over, if she ever found a way to return to her own time, what would this mean for her future? 

"It doesn't really matter though." Her mind flashed back to the conversation he'd been having with Seven before this all started. He only cared for her as an ally, a friend she reminded herself. It didn't matter if her fertility affected his opinion of her--because that wasn't important. "I just needed to heal her, you know?”

Jaguar-Paw's heart clenched as she spoke. He could sense her uncertainty and fear, and he desperately wanted to reassure her. But he knew that his own thoughts and feelings about fertility and children were complicated, especially given his culture's emphasis on it.

He drew in a deep breath, his hand still resting on her stomach. "I understand why you did it," he murmured. "You saved Seven's life. You saved my son."

He leaned in closer to her, his voice low and rough. "But it does matter. It matters to me.”

He paused for a moment, his mind wrestling with his thoughts and emotions. He knew he should be focused on Seven and their children now, but he couldn't seem to shake the way Sara's words had affected him.

"Sara...you..." he began, struggling to find the right words. "You have no idea what your actions today have done for me. You have no idea how important--"

He cut himself off, his emotions getting the better of him. He could feel the tension in her body, the way she was holding her breath, waiting for him to finish his sentence.

He swallowed hard, trying to regain his composure. He couldn't say the words that were on the tip of his tongue. They were too intense, too raw. His mind was a jumbled mess of conflicting emotions and thoughts.

He took his hand away from her stomach and ran it through his hair, a frustrated sigh escaping him. "I...I need to get back to Seven," he muttered, avoiding her eyes. "She'll be worried...and the kids…”

The small balloon of hope in her deflated and she nodded, relaxing back into the spot she'd claimed and allowing her eyes to begin drifting closed once more. She could tell he was struggling, that their bond and the intense things they had been through had muddied all of the emotions between them. Perhaps that was why she felt so strongly for him? Why she was growing to...love him, and his entire family. She knew it was a mistake that would come back to bite her in the ass but the powerful emotions were far beyond her control now. 

"Of course." She turned her head away, not wanting him to see how the complicated situation was affecting her. "Go to them. I'll be fine." 

Jaguar-Paw could see the disappointment and sadness on her face, and it tore at his heart. But he couldn't stay here with her any longer. He needed to be with his wife, to care for his children. He needed space to figure things out.

He hesitantly stood up, his eyes lingering on her for a moment. "Rest," he said quietly. "I'll check on you later."

With that, he turned and walked away, his steps slow and heavy.

[iwritesmutnottragedy]

Apocalypto 2006 dir. Mel Gibson

[iwritesmutnottragedy]

Twenty four hours later. A small elite Chontal patrol finds them and chases them through the jungle. Jaguar-Paw leads them back towards his village, managing to both keep Sara safe from the warriors and devise cunning traps to take them out one by one. In the end they are saved by fate, a large ship coming to the shore that takes far greater interest than a couple of escaped slaves. Together Sara and Jaguar-Paw return to the well his pregnant wife and child are hidden in.

The journey back to the well was long and arduous, but Jaguar-Paw's knowledge of the jungle and his quick thinking kept them safe. They narrowly escaped the Chontal patrols multiple times, and he was able to use his knowledge of the terrain to devise traps that took out their pursuers one by one.

As they finally arrived back at the well where his wife and child were hidden, Jaguar-Paw felt a mixture of relief and trepidation. He wasn't sure what they would find once they got inside.

He climbed down into the well first, using the vines to slow his descent. As he landed at the bottom, he looked up and held out his hand to Sara. "Come on," he grunted, gesturing for her to follow him.

Without hesitation she began to climb down as well, trusting fully that he would catch her if she slipped and fell. She wasn't nearly as scared now that they weren't being actively pursued, but she could feel Jaguar-Paw's anxiety and fear for his family strongly through their connection and she picked up her pace with urgency. As soon as her feet hit the bottom she turned with her heart in her throat.

A little boy, no more than four, launched himself at his father. Sara's eyes locked onto Seven, a beautiful pregnant woman sitting on a rocky outcropping. She looked uncomfortable, and Sara took a step forward on instinct. She wanted to help, but knew that neither member of his family would be able to understand her.

Jaguar-Paw caught his son in a tight embrace, burying his face in the little boy's hair and holding him close. The fear and anxiety that had been gnawing at him since they had been captured seemed to fade as he felt the familiar weight of his son in his arms.

He turned back to Seven, his eyes landing on her swollen belly. He could see the discomfort on her face, and the worry gnawed at his gut. He knew that she was close to giving birth, and he had been terrified that something would happen to her while he was gone.

He crossed to her with the boy still in his arms, and knelt down beside her. "How are you feeling?" he asked gruffly, his voice betraying his concern. He reached out to touch her belly, feeling for any signs of movement.

Seven looked up at him, her expression weary but determined. "I'm okay," she said softly, trying to reassure him. "But the baby has been moving a lot lately. I think it won't be long now.”

Sara came just a little bit closer, crossing her arms over her chest nervously. It felt so intrusive for her to be there in that moment but she had no where else to go.

"Is she okay?"

Jaguar-Paw glanced over at Sara, hearing her question through their connection. He had almost forgotten that she was there, her presence still something he was getting used to.

He turned back to Seven, looking her over once more. "She's fine," he said gruffly, his voice full of confidence despite the worry that still gnawed at him. "The baby is just restless, like a little warrior in the womb.”

She swallowed thickly and nodded. "Good. I'm glad..."

Hesitantly, she stepped closer and looked at his son-- still clinging to Jaguar-Paw though the little boy seemed to have recovered quickly. Brave. She complimented mentally and very slowly took a seat not too far away from his family. She hoped that her posture would be as non threatening as possible considering the strange situation they found themselves in.

What should we tell them? She asked.

Jaguar-Paw looked up at Sara as she took a seat nearby, his eyes tracing over her form. He could sense her unease, her desire to be respectful and unimposing in the presence of his wife and child.

He sighed heavily, considering her question. We can't tell them the whole truth. It's too complicated and confusing, he thought back to her, his gaze flickering to his wife again. We'll just have to keep it simple.

He called his son's name and pointed him toward Sara, hoping that the boy would help to break the ice. "Go over there and say hello to the nice lady," he said gruffly.

The little boy looked up at his father doubtfully, then at Sara, his eyes wide and curious. He didn't seem scared, just unsure of what to make of the strange newcomer.

The boy took a few hesitant steps toward Sara, his little feet padding softly on the rocks. He stopped just a few feet away from her, his eyes still wide.

"Hello," he said in a small, shy voice.

Sara stayed very still, afraid she might scare the child. She also couldn't help but look up toward his mother to make sure she wasn't crossing any sort of boundary. The last thing she wanted to do was stress the pregnant woman out any more, she had already been through enough. She smiled at his son and then looked up at Jaguar-Paw. "What did he say?"

Jaguar-Paw chuckled gruffly at Sara's question, amused by her uncertainty. He understood that she was trying to be respectful, given the circumstances, but there was no need for her to be so cautious.

"He said 'hello'," he grunted, gesturing for the boy to come closer. "Come here, little one."

The boy complied, scrambling over to his father's side and clambering into his lap, his wide eyes still fixed on Sara.

Jaguars-Paw's arm wrapped around his boy, pulling him close. He could tell that the boy was curious about Sara, but he was also a little nervous. He couldn't blame him, though. This was a strange situation for all of them.

He looked back at Sara, his expression softening slightly. "Want to hold him?" he asked gruffly, gesturing to the boy in his arms.

She sucked in a breath and her chest filled with something close to affection at the trust he was showing, allowing her to hold his son. Sara nodded and leaned forward with her arms extended, preparing for the weight of the child. Again, her eyes darted to Seven and she quietly asked "Is she okay with this? “

Jaguar-Paw nodded, understanding her concern. He glanced over at his wife, who was watching the exchange with a wary expression.

"It's alright," he reassured her. "She can hold him."

Seven's eyes flicked between Sara and Jaguar-Paw, her expression softening somewhat. She didn't look completely comfortable, but she didn't protest either.

Jaguar-Paw lifted the boy from his lap and handed him carefully to Sara. The little boy went willingly, his small arms wrapping around her neck as he settled himself against her chest. He was a warm, solid weight in her arms, and she could feel his little heart beating against her.

Sara held his son close, and one of her hands stroked up and down his back. She looked down and spotted the small cut on his leg that had been closed with ...the heads of some biting ants?

It was an old time remedy that she had only ever heard of. She couldn't help but smile at the ingenuity of it and looked up at Seven with curiosity. "Did you do this? “

Seven nodded, her expression softening as she saw Sara's smile. "Yes," she said quietly. "It's an old remedy, passed down through the generations. It helps to stop the bleeding and prevent infection."

She shifted on her rocky perch, wincing slightly as the baby kicked inside her belly.

Jaguar-Paw watched as Sara comforted his son, a small smile tugging at the corners of his mouth. He had to admit, it was a strange sight to see Sara holding his child, but she was handling him with a surprising amount of care and skill. The affection in her expression was obvious, and it made his chest tighten slightly.

She looked from his son over to his wife and noticed her wince and the way that she was rubbing her swollen stomach. They were safe in the well for now, but it was no place for her. Especially not if they had been trapped there ever since Jaguar-Paw had been captured. Sara stood up with his son in her arms and looked up at the top of the well. It wouldn't be an easy climb with them by any means, but she knew it was necessary.

" I think, no I know I can carry him and get us both out, do we use the vines to get her out?" She planned out loud. As nice as it was getting to know his family their safety came first and foremost in her mind.

Jaguar-Paw looked up at the top of the well, assessing the distance. It was a steep climb, and the vines were old and weathered, but they would have to do.

He nodded at Sara's plan. "Yes, we'll use the vines to get her out," he agreed gruffly. "But we'll have to be careful. She's close to giving birth, and we don't want to put her under too much strain.”

Her heart raced at that knowledge, and she nodded with a serious expression. No wonder he had been trying to get back to them so urgently.

With a solemn nod, she turned and walked towards the rocky outcropping. She shifted so that his son had his arms wrapped around her throat and his legs around her waist- clinging to her back like a little monkey or backpack as she began the steep climb up.

She took her time, making sure that they were safe. As soon as he was over the ledge, she scrambled after him and turned, ready to help Jaguar Paw get Seven out.

Jaguar-Paw watched as Sara climbed quickly and confidently up the side of the well, his son clinging to her back. He was impressed by her strength and agility, and relief washed over him at the knowledge that his family was in safe hands.

He turned back to Seven, who was sitting patiently on the rocky outcropping. He held out his hand to her. "Come on, you're next," he said gruffly.

Seven took his hand and carefully got to her feet. Her belly was heavy and unwieldy, making it difficult for her to move quickly or gracefully. She winced as she took a step forward, her hands cupping her swollen belly.

"Careful," Jaguar-Paw murmured, steadying her on her feet. "Take it slow. We don't want to do anything to hurt the baby.”

Seven nodded, her breathing coming in short gasps. "I know," she said quietly, her voice strained. "Just...help me get up there."

Jaguar-Paw nodded, gripping her by the waist and lifting her up onto the nearby vines. She clung to them desperately, her eyes wide with trepidation.

With a grunt of effort, Jaguar-Paw helped Seven climb up the vines, guiding her movements and supporting her weight as she went. It was a slow and painstaking process, but eventually she made it to the edge of the well, where Sara was waiting to help her the rest of the way out.

Her hands closed around his wife's forearms, and she used all of her strength to pull her over the ledge and far enough away that she wasn't worried the woman would roll off the side. She looked at Seven with concern, noticing the way that her breathing was heavy and there was a slight sheen of sweat to her skin. Cautiously, she reached forward and touched the other woman's shoulder to get her attention while her husband climbed up out of the well.

"Are you okay?" She asked quietly, as comfortingly as she could even though she knew that the other woman wouldn't be able to understand her.

Seven nodded shakily, trying to catch her breath. "I'm okay," she said hoarsely, her eyes landing on Sara's face. She could see the concern and kindness in the other woman's expression, even if she didn't understand her words.

Jaguar-Paw emerged from the well a moment later, pulling himself over the edge with a grunt of exertion. He immediately went to his wife's side, his eyes running over her with concern.

"Are you alright?" he asked gruffly, his hand coming to rest on her shoulder.

Seven nodded again, though her face was pale and drawn with pain. "I'm fine," she reassured him, though her voice was strained. "The baby...it's coming soon.”

Jaguar-Paw's eyes widened at her words, his hands gripping her shoulders tighter. "How soon?" he asked urgently.

"I don't know," Seven gasped. "But it feels...close. We need to find a safe place for me to lie down."

Jaguar-Paw nodded, his mind already working on overdrive. He knew that they couldn't stay out in the open, vulnerable to attack from the Chontal warriors. They needed shelter, somewhere safe where they could ride out the birth.

Sara could sense his anxiety, but searching his mind felt like too much of an invasion of privacy. She took a couple of steps forward, grabbing his son's hand to make sure that the little boy stayed close by. He seemed to know that there was something serious going on, and he easily went into her arms. What's happening? Is she okay? She thought to him, noticing the way that Seven's breathing had changed in the past few minutes.

Jaguar-Paw glanced over at Sara, noticing the worried look on her face. He could sense her concern and worry through their connection, and it only heightened his own anxiety. He tried to send back a reassuring message through their bond. She's in labor, he thought back to her. We need to find somewhere safe to deliver the baby quickly.

Her eyes widened in shock and she tried to stay as calm as he was. Her grip on his son tightened a little bit unconsciously and she looked around. She didn't know as much as a historian about this time, but she knew just enough to try and come up with some sort of plan or helpful suggestion. She stood and brought her son up with him, carrying the little boy on her hip with ease.

"Do your people have any kind of hunters cabin or something like that? For if you're away from home hunting for an extended period of time. " She knew going back to his village's ruins would be too dangerous, and hoped maybe something like that would be a safe compromise.

Jaguar-Paw considered her question for a moment, trying to think of a secluded location nearby where they could go and Seven could safely give birth. His mind flicked through all the possibilities, weighing up the pros and cons of each one.

Finally, he nodded. "Yes," he said gruffly. "There's an old hunting cabin not far from here, deep in the forest. It's well hidden and fortified, and no one will be able to find us there.”

"Come on," he continued, taking Seven's hand and guiding her to her feet. "We should start moving, now."

He started off quickly, navigating the path through the dense undergrowth of the rainforest. The going was hard, but he pushed forward, driven by determination and urgency. Seven followed behind him, her movements slowed by the weight of the baby in her belly.

Sara followed deftly and silently behind them, clutching his son close to her and feeling his mounting concern through their connection. Her dark eyes watched as sevens steps became even slower, and she couldn't help but cry out every once in a while with a contraction. Sara tried to count the minutes in between, not knowing very much about birth, but ... she hoped that her modern medical knowledge would be of some assistance.

When they got to the cabin, she set his son down and quickly began to help him prepare a spot for his wife to lay. Judging by the time between contractions, things were moving quickly, but as far as she had noticed, the other woman's water hadn't broken yet.

Jaguar-Paw worked alongside Sara, clearing a small space on the floor of the cabin and covering it with a few spare animal furs. He laid his wife down on the makeshift bed, propping her head up on a bundle of furs.

Seven's face was tight with pain, her hands gripping the furs tightly as another contraction hit. She gasped, her eyes squeezed shut as the pain washed over her.

Sara frowned, tense with anxiety and knowing that this was a very serious situation that they had found themselves in. It bothered her deeply to see the other woman in pain, and she wasn't sure if it was because of the connection she shared with Seven's husband or something else. But she found herself reaching out and taking the other woman's hand, giving her something to hold on to in the midst of the intense wave of pain.

Seven clutched at Sara's hand tightly, her fingers digging into the other woman's flesh as the contraction peaked. She let out a strangled gasp, her body arching off the furs as the pain wracked through her.

Jaguar-Paw watched helplessly as his wife suffered, his heart breaking at the pain she was going through. He knelt by her side, his hand rubbing in soothing circles on her belly.

Thankfully, his son seemed to know enough about the cycle of life to sense that things were serious and had taken a spot in the corner of the cabin, watching quietly as the adults worked.

It was a good thing because just like Jaguar Paw, her attention had become fully consumed by Seven's efforts.

Her hand heated up with healing magic, and she looked up at him and asked as calmly as she could, " Were you there for the birth of your first son? Or is that something the women in your village tend to handle?"

Jaguar-Paw shook his head, his eyes never leaving his wife's face. "No, men are not usually present for the birth of their children," he said gruffly. "It is considered to be a sacred moment for women only, and the men are not allowed within the birthing hut until after the birth."

He looked down at his wife, his expression filled with love and concern. "I want to be here with her," he said softly. "I don't want to leave her side.”

She nodded in understanding, having expected as much. It filled her with a little bit more confidence, knowing that she at least had a little bit better knowledge of the process than that.

In fact, she had been present at a couple of births, and even though things were intense right now, she wasn't nearly as panicked as she might have been otherwise.

"Of course," she agreed easily and rubbed Seven's tense shoulders with her free hand. "She needs you. “

Jaguar-Paw continued to rub his wife's belly, his other hand holding hers tightly. He murmured words of reassurance and love to her quietly, trying to offer what comfort he could in her time of pain.

As another contraction washed over her, Seven let out a guttural moan, her body arching upwards. She gripped Sara's hand tightly, her knuckles white from the effort.

She held her hand and waited until the contraction was over and then looked up at Jaguar Paw with a calm but serious expression. "We're still waiting for her water to break. But sometimes the baby will come before that. Can you ask her.. if I can check?”

Jaguar-Paw's eyes widened, understanding the implication of Sara's question. He quickly spoke to his wife in their native language, asking her permission for Sara to perform the necessary examination.

Seven's face was still contorted with pain, but she managed to nod agreement, allowing Sara to proceed.

She reluctantly let go of Seven's hand and moved to spread her legs as gently as she could. She had only done this a couple of times before but remembered vividly. Her fingers gently probed and prodded until she was satisfied with her answer, and then she withdrew her hand. Casually, she wiped it off on her jeans- they were ruined by now anyway.

"She's definitely in active labor. That means the baby is for sure coming. If I had to guess, her water will probably break in the next contraction or two, and then things will really get going.”

Jaguar-Paw felt a mixture of relief and anxiety at Sara's words. On the one hand, it was a good sign that his wife's labor was progressing, but on the other, it meant that the birth was imminent.

He nodded in understanding, his hand still rubbing soothing circles on his wife's belly. "Alright," he said gruffly. "Is there anything else we can do to make her more comfortable? Or to help the baby along?”

She sat back on her haunches, hands on her knees, and pursed her lips. With the deep sigh, Sara thought about all the different things that she had heard of that could maybe help in this moment and tried her best to come up with an answer for him.

"Sometimes massaging around her hips can help? The counter pressure helps where they're opening up. Other than that - we just have to listen to what she needs. If she needs to switch positions, we help her move- if she's thirsty.. " she looked around the cabin hopelessly, wishing that they had more modern supplies on hand.

Jaguar-Paw nodded, immediately taking Sara's advice and massaging his wife's hips with strong, gentle hands. He could feel the tension in her muscles, the ache and exhaustion of her body. He murmured soft words of comfort and encouragement to her, trying to offer as much help and support as possible.

Seven let out a soft moan of relief at his touch, her head sinking back against the furs as he worked his magic.

Seven let out another guttural moan, her body arching upwards in the midst of another contraction. Jaguar-Paw's hands worked quickly, rubbing her hips and lower back with firm, knowing pressure.

"You're doing great," he said quietly, his eyes filled with admiration and love. "Just a little longer, my love. I know you can do it.”

As he massaged her hips, he suddenly felt a warm, wetness soak through the furs beneath her. He recoiled slightly, looking down in shock to see that his wife's water had finally broken.

Sara noticed him jerk back, and her eyes started down toward the growing puddle. She nodded and moved back between sevens legs in order to help catch the baby. She knew that it would be soon, the contractions were nearly non-stop now and she rubbed a soothing hand up and down the other woman's knee.

"He's he's right, you're doing great." She echoed quietly. It really wasn't fair that his family couldn't understand her, but she took some comfort in talking to them nonetheless.

Jaguar-Paw sat back and watched as Sara positioned herself between his wife's legs, his heart pounding in his chest. He could hear the sharp, ragged breaths escaping his wife's lips as her body tensed for another contraction.

He reached out and took her hand, his fingers curling around hers. "You can do this," he murmured, his voice gruff. "You're strong and brave, I know you can do this.”

Seven nodded, her eyes squeezed shut tight as the contraction peaked. She panted and groaned, her body arching against the furs beneath her.

Jaguar-Paw watched in awe as the moments ticked by, his mind racing with a mixture of anxiety and awe. He could see the top of his baby's head beginning to crown, the silvery dark fuzz of their hair showing.

Sara's own expression mirrored his as with each push, she managed to make steady progress. She braced her hands under the other woman, providing support to the baby's head and doing her best to make sure that she didn't tear. When each contraction seemed to ebb, she reminded Seven to breathe and to wait until the next one began.

Finally, on the peak of another intense contraction- the baby's head emerged. A wide grin split her face, and she couldn't help but explain with excitement, " That's it, just one or two more pushes, and then you're done.”

Seven grit her teeth, groaning in pain as she pushed with all her might. Her face was red, slick with sweat, and her grip on Jaguar-Paw's hand was so tight that it was almost painful.

Jaguar-Paw could hardly believe what he was seeing. He was in awe of his wife's strength and determination, watching her bring their child into the world. He could see the baby's shoulders now, inching closer and closer to freedom.

Finally, with one last guttural cry, Seven pushed one final time. The baby slipped free of his mother's body, crying loudly as he made his entrance into the world.

Jaguar-Paw's eyes widened in wonder as he watched the little bundle emerge, and then he turned to Sara. "Is he okay?" he asked gruffly, his voice hoarse.

She quickly caught the child and brought him to her chest, leaning down to do her best to scoop any fluid out of his mouth with her fingers and sucked it out of his nose with own mouth. She spat onto the ground and then turned to place the baby on his mother's chest. Now that he was born, she felt herself begin to relax just a little and turned her attention to Jaguar-Paw.

"He's perfect. His lungs- his breathing sounds great and he's got all his fingers and toes. “

Jaguar-Paw's eyes were glued to his wife and child, a mix of emotions playing out across his face as he watched them bond. He reached out a tentative hand, caressing the baby's head with a gentle touch.

"He's beautiful," he murmured, his voice thick with love and wonder. He looked up at Sara, gratitude and awe evident in his eyes. "Thank you so much, for everything you did for us. You saved them both.”

She was busy trying to help clean up Seven. The other woman had finally delivered the placenta, and Sara scooped it up in a stained animal hide. She wasn't sure what their custom was to do with that, so she placed it aside and turned her attention back to him.

Surprise lit up her face, and she looked down at the small family with a mixture of affection and something else more intense that she couldn't identify. His son had finally moved closer and was finally resting next to his mother and his new baby brother. Perhaps it was just an echo of what he felt for his family passing through their magical connection, but in the short time that she had met them- she found that she loved them as well. She couldn't imagine letting anything happen to them.

"Of course. After all, you saved my life, too.”

Jaguar-Paw glanced back at her, his eyes softening at her words. He reached out a hand and gently grasped her arm, his fingers wrapping around her wrist.

"We're all in this together now," he said gruffly. "We need to stick together and support each other. We're family."

He looked down at his wife and children, his heart swelling with love and pride. He had never felt more grateful for his small, but strong, family.

As Seven held their new baby to her chest, Jaguar-Paw moved to sit beside her, his arm wrapped around her shoulders. He looked down at his baby son, his heart full to bursting.

"What shall we name him?" he asked quietly, looking from his wife to Sara.

Seven looked up at him, her eyes sparkling with love and exhaustion. "I don't know," she said softly, her voice still a rasp from her screams of labor. "What do you think, my love?”

Jaguar-Paw thought for a moment, his brow furrowing in thought. "I think he should have a strong name," he said gruffly. "A name that represents his strength and resilience. Like 'Eagle', or 'Hawk'. Something that represents his connection to our people and our land.”

Seven smiled faintly, her eyes drifting back down to her new baby son. "I like 'Hawk'," she said softly, her fingers gentle on his tiny head. "It's strong, but it also represents the freedom and grace that he will carry with him throughout his life.”

Jaguar-Paw agreed, nodding his head. "Then 'Hawk' it is."" he said gruffly, his eyes glued to his son. He reached out a hesitant hand, his large fingers brushing against the baby's soft skin. "Hello, Hawk," he murmured, his voice filled with love and wonder.

The baby let out a soft gurgle, his little mouth working as he nuzzled closer to his mother's chest. Jaguar-Paw's heart leapt at the sound, and he couldn't help but grin. He looked over at his other son, who was resting quietly beside his mother.

"And what about you, little one?" he asked. "Are you happy to have a new brother?”

The little boy looked up at his father with wide eyes. He didn't say anything but he nodded his head. He was clearly a bit confused and overwhelmed by the new arrival, but he seemed to understand that his family had grown by one more member. Or two.

Jaguar-Paw chuckled, ruffling his son's hair affectionately. "You'll get used to it," he assured him. "And you'll be a great big brother."

He turned his gaze to Sara, his expression serious. "We owe you a debt of gratitude," he said gruffly. "You saved my family, and I will never forget that.”

[iwritesmutnottragedy]

Jaguar Paw has been taken as a sacrifice tribute by a larger Maya city state. He is being kept with the other hunters from his village and other slaves when he sees an unusual woman who is brought and tied up along side him. She is wearing clothing unlike any he has ever seen before and is obviously injured from fighting off the other army as best as she could.

Jaguar Paw was curious for the woman, her outfit were so strange to him, so unusual that he couldn't help but stare at the woman. "Who are you?" The tribesman asked in his native tongue.

Sara looked up at the man next to her, shaking her head and replying in english. "I...I don't understand you. I'm sorry."

He furrowed his brow slightly, her language was completely foreign to him. It sounded like strange gibberish to him. "What's your name?" He asked again in his native tongue, wondering if she could at least get the gist of what he was saying.

She sighed and slumped a little more against the ground. Her wrists were bound in front of her and she twisted and pulled at the natural twine, trying to find any weakness. If she could just get it loose...she could try to break free when they weren't looking. When she noticed that Jaguar Paw was still looking at her she stopped, quickly trying to cover her actions.

"What? Stop looking at me or they'll notice." She hissed softly, ducking her head towards him. "I knew I should have tried learning some of the dialects. At least then I might have stood I fuckin' chance." She grumbled, knowing he wouldn't be able to understand her.

She was trying to free herself from the bonds that were tied around her wrists, but no matter how much she struggled, they still remained firmly in place. Jaguar Paw listened to her complaints in her unknown tongue, not understanding a single word she was saying. He could only watch as she huffed and cursed under her breath, clearly frustrated with her situation.

He shifted closer to her, his eyes fixated on her struggle. He wanted to know more about her but was unsure how to communicate effectively. After a moment of thought, he gestured down to her wrists bound with the rope. "Are you uncomfortable?" he asked in his native tongue, hoping she might understand his intentions.

Her eyebrows rose and she brought her wrists up for him to see. The restraints bit into her skin but she wasn't ready to give up just yet. With a sigh she lowered them back down to her lap and tried to relax and bide her time. It wasn't exactly like she could bolt while the sun was still up anyways. Instead, she turned her attention to the man tied up next to her and decided to try her best at making some kind of connection, despite the language barrier.

With effort she brought up a hand and placed it on her chest, saying her name with careful pronunciation. "Sara. I'm Sara."

Jaguar Paw's eyes flickered to her bound wrists as she held them up for him to see. He noticed the discomfort and understood that she was not easily able to break free from it, at least not right now. As she lowered her wrists back onto her lap he listened intently as she attempted to communicate with him. She placed a hand over her chest and spoke her name slowly and clearly. He repeated her name back to her, trying his best to mimic her pronunciation, "Sara?”

He looked at her intently, his eyes studying her face and her features. Despite the language barrier, he felt a connection forming between them, and he wanted to learn more about her. Jaguar Paw's curiosity was piqued, and he tried to communicate with her in his own language again. He pointed at himself and said his name slowly and clearly. "Jaguar-Paw," he said, hoping she might recognize his name.

"...Balam.." She repeated in his language, recognizing that one word. Then, in her own language once more. "Jaguar? Your name is Jaguar-something?" She mused to herself, the irony not lost on her. With a little chuckle she shifted to show her side where her shirt had been pulled up. There was a tattoo spanning the smooth skin there of a roaring jaguar in photo accurate detail, unlike anything capable of being tattooed in this time. "Jaguar, Balam-- right?"

Jaguar-Paw's eyes widened as Sara repeated his name in his own language, calling him 'Balam.' Then he watched as she pointed to her tattoo, a detailed and lifelike rendering of a roaring jaguar that was unlike anything he had ever seen. He looked back at her and nodded in understanding, a small smile forming on his face. "Yes, yes! You understand." He couldn't help but admire the tattoo, it was so incredibly detailed and realistic.

In a moment of excitement, he scooted closer to her, his eyes never leaving the tattoo on her side. He reached out a hand and pointed at the tattoo, his fingers tracing the outline of the jaguar. "What is this? How did you get it? It looks real, like a real jaguar." he asked curiously, forgetting momentarily about the language barrier.

She shivered at the feeling of his touch on her skin, goosebumps raised in response. However gentle he was being, it still reminded her of the various bruises that were hidden by her torn T-shirt and purposefully ripped jeans. She shuddered and tried not to think about how the other warrior's hands had felt on her, their bruising grip and curious gropes as they tied her up. "I wonder if they ran out of room on the women's pole.." She murmured, looking over at the women from his village who were all tied together and held in a different part of the camp. The sad, oppressive energy of the enslaved caused a knot in her stomach.

"...Hey, Jaguar." She whispered after a few hours had passed. "I'm going to try to escape...but I need your help. Will you come with me?" She knew he didn't understand her but she just hoped that he could some how tell she *wanted* to talk to him, and that would be enough incentive to help when the time came.

Jaguar-Paw noticed the shiver that ran through her body as he touched her skin, and he could see the goosebumps rise in response. He saw the bruises and marks on her skin that were hidden beneath her torn T-shirt and torn jeans, and he couldn't help but feel a pang of guilt and anger at whoever had hurt her.

As the hours passed and Sara whispered to him, he listened intently, trying to understand her words. Despite the language barrier, he could tell that she wanted to talk to him and wanted his help with something. He nodded vigorously in response. "Yes, yes! I help you.”

A large smile broke out across her face and she nodded along with him. "Okay, okay..." She reached her arms behind her and felt into the back pocket of her pants, she managed to grip her small folded pocket knife. It was wood inlay and inconspicuous enough that the warriors hadn't cared enough to take it from her. Just an odd smooth chunk of wood at first sight.

She dropped the knife by Jaguar Paw and hoped he would be able to figure out how to open it quickly. "You can cut the ties while they're not looking..."

When he saw the smile form on her face, he knew that he had made the right decision. As she reached into her pocket, he watched intently, unsure of what to expect. When she produced a small folded knife, his eyes widened in surprise. He recognized it as a potential tool for escape.

Carefully, he picked up the knife and examined it, feeling the weight and texture in his hands. He tried to figure out how to open it, and after a moment of fiddling with it, he was able to unfold the small blade.

He looked back at Sara with a look of determination, ready to cut their ties. He waited until the warriors were distracted and not looking in their direction before he slowly slid the blade against the twine that bound their wrists together. He worked quickly and carefully, trying not to make any noise or attract attention.

As the ropes slackened, he felt his heart racing with adrenaline. He looked at Sara and nodded, signaling that he was ready to make a run for it. He knew that they didn't have much time and that they needed to act fast before the warriors noticed their escape.

She got up quickly, prepared to run and practically shaking with a potent mixture of anxiety and excitement. But-Sara turned back and looked at the other slaves, still tied up. She couldn't just *leave* them...but they didn't have time to untie every person. Turning to Jaguar Paw, she held out her hand for the knife. "We at least have to leave it with them--"

As Sara got up quickly, ready to run, Jaguar-Paw noticed the look of anxiety and excitement on her face. But then he saw her hesitation as she looked back at the other slaves, still tied up. He realized what she was thinking and nodded in understanding.

He handed her the knife, understanding that she wanted to leave it with the other slaves. "Yes, yes. We leave it for them," he agreed, knowing that every bit of help counted in their escape.

A warm smile lit up her face as she took the knife from him, and gave it next to a very tall and broad man from his village. Blunted took the blade and quickly began freeing himself without a backward glance and she decided that was her que to leave. Sara spun around, grabbing Jaguar Paw's hand as they took off into the jungle.

As they ran into the jungle, their hands tightly clasped together, they could hear the shouts of alarm from the warriors behind them. The trees and foliage whipped past them as they sprinted through the jungle, desperate to put as much distance between them and their captors as possible.

Jaguar-Paw's heart raced with excitement and fear as they ran together, their feet pounding against the jungle floor. But he felt reassured by Sara's hand in his, knowing that they were in this together.

They weaved through the dense foliage, avoiding obstacles and hazards as they ran. The air was hot and humid, making breathing difficult, but they didn't dare slow down or stop. They could hear the sound of warriors searching for them in the distance, shouting commands and calling out to each other.

As they continued their escape, Sara and Jaguar-Paw found themselves crossing a small stream. The water rushing over the rocks and around their feet helped to cover their tracks and make it harder for the warriors to follow. They waded through the stream, careful not to slip on the slick rocks, and emerged on the other side, still holding hands.

Even after they got to the other side, the two continued to walk until the sun started to set. At that point Sara froze and looked around. She knew they needed to find something that would qualify as shelter to spend the night. Desperately, she looked and him and reached out a hand to stop him. They needed a moment to think, a moment to plan...

A moment to try and figure out a better way to fucking communicate. Sara sighed and sat down heavily at the base of a tree. They *had* taken her cellphone, even though it was a useless smooth black and gray box to them. Maybe they thought it was some kind of obsidian mirror? She wasn't going to guess.

"Jaguar...Shit." She raked a hand through her hair, shaking her head. If only she had google translate or...Her eyes widened with an idea and she reached out her hand for his, waiting for if he would place it in her grasp.

Jaguar-Paw could sense the urgency and the importance of finding shelter for the night, but he also knew that they couldn't keep running indefinitely. As Sara stopped and reached out her hand to stop him, he halted mid-stride.

They both needed a moment to rest and plan their next steps. He could see the frustration and worry etched on her face as she sat down heavily at the base of a tree. He watched her closely as she raked her hand through her hair. He could tell that she was trying to come up with a plan.

When she reached out her hand for his, he didn't hesitate to take it in his own. He could feel the warmth of her palm against his skin and he could sense the desperation in her gesture. He waited patiently, wondering what she had in mind.

"Okay, I know this is going to be really weird.." She had never tried anything like this. Sara had always used her magic for either healing, evocations or party tricks...not to try and cross the barriers of time itself. She could feel Jaguar Paw's energy-- ancient and wild but also...just the same as any other person. It was both odd and a comfort and she quietly summoned her own energy to the palm of her hand.

The skin there began to heat up supernaturally and her dark eyes lowered to look at his mouth. Very gently, almost hesitantly she placed a hand on Jaguar Paw's cheek. Her stare pinned him in place, begging him not to move as she closed the distance between them and thought Hear me. Understand me and I wish to understand you.

It was a desperate plea to both her ancestors and her own patron goddess, the kiss meant to solidify the bond between them and affirm the spell. When she pulled back her eyes were wary...in fact, her whole body was tense with nerves. "...Did that work? Can you understand me?"

As Sara placed her hand on his cheek and leaned in towards him, Jaguar-Paw was taken aback by the unexpected gesture. But he could feel the heat of her skin against his and the intensity of her gaze as she looked into his eyes and silently pleaded with him.

He heard her words, not in spoken language, but in a kind of thought or feeling that passed between them. Hear me. Understand me, and I wish to understand you.

He could feel her desperate plea, the bond that was being formed between them, and the strange magic that was at play.

As they pulled away from each other, he looked into Sara's eyes, trying to decipher the meaning behind her words. She had communicated with him, not through spoken language, but through the spell that she had cast.

He could feel the connection between them, the magic that was binding them together and allowing them to understand each other. "Yes," he said quietly, his voice rough and slightly dazed. "I understand you.”

The magic that Sara had worked was strong and powerful, and it had succeeded in bridging the language barrier between them. But it also had other effects, strengthening the bond between them, making them feel closer and more connected than ever before.

They were now tied together by more than just their shared escape from their captors. They had a deeper connection, an understanding that went beyond mere words. They could feel each other's thoughts and emotions, and they knew that they could rely on each other in ways they had never experienced before.

Sara sagged in relief against the tree and let out a shaky sigh, "That's good. Fuck. So...your name is Jaguar?"

She asked more casually now, sitting up and letting her legs rest after half a night of running through the jungle. It was so tempting to just curl up and sleep but she knew that they needed to keep going eventually.

Jaguar-Paw nodded, a small smile tugging at the corners of his mouth. "Yes," he said, his voice still rough and deep. "My name is Jaguar-Paw."

He was still trying to process the strange magic that had allowed them to understand each other, but he was also glad to be able to communicate with her in a way that they both understood.

"What about you?" he asked, looking at her with curiosity. "What is your name?”

"Sara." She repeated from earlier. Now that they had stopped moving and the shouts of the pursuing warriors had faded to nothing more than the night time sounds of the jungle, she could feel the different aches and pains from when she'd tried to fight off the warriors settle in. "Do you know where we are?"

"Sara," he said again, committing her name to memory.

He looked around at their surroundings, taking in the sounds of the jungle at night. He could feel Sara's body relaxing as they sat there, and he could see the exhaustion in her eyes. He knew that she had been through a lot, and he could sense the pain that she was feeling.

"No," he said finally, shaking his head. "I don't know where we are. This is not my territory. We are deep in enemy territory.”

He looked around again, taking in the dense foliage and the unfamiliar sounds of the jungle. "We need to keep moving," he said, his voice firm. "We can't stay in one place for too long. The warriors will be searching for us, and we need to put as much distance between us and them as possible.” She nodded in agreement, taking a few deep breaths and summoning what was left of her strength so that they could continue on through the forest. At least she was wearing boots. Sara looked at Jaguar Paw suddenly a bit sheepish and reached out one hand to rest on his arm. "I understand. But first, are you okay? Are you injured?"

Jaguar-Paw felt a mix of surprise and gratitude as Sara reached out to touch his arm. He wasn't used to being asked if he was okay, or if he was injured, and it felt strange and unfamiliar to him.

"I am fine," he said gruffly, shrugging off her hand. He could feel the scrapes and bruises on his body from the fight earlier, but he was used to them. He was a warrior, after all, and pain was a constant companion.

"I can handle myself," he added, a note of defensiveness in his voice. He didn't want her to worry about him or waste energy on his injuries. She had her own injuries to deal with, and they needed to focus on their escape and survival.

He pushed himself up off the ground, wincing slightly as he put weight on his injured leg. He tried to hide the pain from her, not wanting her to see him as weak.

She followed after him, letting out a soft groan as her muscles protested. As a traveling artist she was used to standing outside all day in the hot sun, not running around in the jungle. They began walking again, looking for anything they could use as shelter. Sara noticed the way that Jaguar Paw favored his leg and kept close just in case he needed any help. When he stumbled over a fallen log she reached out and laid her hand on his arm.

"What are we looking for? I've...I've never been in the jungle this long."

Jaguar-Paw gritted his teeth as he stumbled over the fallen log. He had tried to hide the pain and weakness in his leg, but her hand on his arm reminded him that she had seen through his tough facade. He hated feeling weak and vulnerable, but he couldn't deny that her touch gave him a strange sense of comfort.

"We are looking for shelter," he said gruffly. "Somewhere we can rest and hide from the warriors. A cave, a tree hollow, anything that can provide us with some protection.”

Her dark eyes scanned the surrounding area, now knowing what she was looking for. A tree, split in two in the distance with just enough space for the two of them to fit inside seemed to stand out and she locked onto it. Her arm came up to point and she asked. "Like that?"

Jaguar-Paw followed her gaze and saw the split tree that she was pointing to. He nodded in agreement, his expression serious.

"Yes," he said. "That could work. It's not ideal, but it's better than nothing. Come on, let's move quickly."

He took her hand in his and began leading her towards the tree, his eyes constantly scanning their surroundings for any signs of danger.

As they approached the tree, Jaguar-Paw could see that it was even bigger up close than it had looked from a distance. The split in the trunk was large enough for them both to fit inside, and it provided some cover from the elements and any prying eyes.

He motioned for Sara to enter first, wanting to ensure that she was safe before he followed after.

She went in, prepared to sit then paused. If they were going to stop and rest there they she should try and give them some more cover. Exiting the tree hollow, she began to pick up long fronts of foliage and drape them across the opening. It was a poor makeshift door but would do it's job of hiding them from view. Sara paused for a moment, admiring her work before coming back inside and finally sitting down, the heavy sigh of relief palpable between them.

"So...your leg. Can I see?"

As the foliage settled into place, creating a makeshift door and hiding them from view, Jaguar-Paw watched her appreciatively. He could see the exhaustion etched on her face, but he was also impressed by her resourcefulness.

He grunted in response to her question about his leg. "It's nothing," he said stubbornly. "Just a scratch."

He knew that his leg was more than just a scratch, but he was too proud to admit it. He didn't want to appear weak in front of her.

But the pain in his leg was gnawing at him, and he couldn't ignore it any longer. He let out a soft grunt of pain as he shifted his weight to try and get comfortable. He knew that she had already seen through his tough guy act, and he couldn't keep hiding his injury from her.

"Bullshit." She whispered, noticing the way that his brow shined with sweat even in the moonlight. As quietly and smoothly as she could, she came to sit next to him and gently rested her hand on his arm, completely contrary to the tone she had just used a moment before. "You can trust me, we need each other. Right?"

As Sara sat next to him and placed her hand gently on his arm, Jaguar-Paw felt a strange mix of emotions welling up inside him. There was a part of him that was touched by her concern and care, a part of him that wanted to put aside his pride and lean on her. But there was also a part of him that was still hesitant to show weakness.

He let out a deep sigh, his stubbornness warring with his practicality. "Fine," he muttered gruffly. "You can look at it.”

He shifted his weight, wincing as he did so, and offered his injured leg out towards her. The pain was getting worse, but he tried to hide it by gritting his teeth and clenching his fists.

There was a deep bruise, and she could see where the muscle was tense and quivering. Perhaps a terrible sprain or a torn ligament? She couldn't be sure. As gently as she could, she wrapped her hand around his ankle and tried to pull his leg straight. Testing the movement.

"How did this happen? Obviously, during your capture, but how...what happened?"

As Sara gently pulled his leg straight, Jaguar-Paw let out a low growl of pain. The feeling of her hands on his ankle was both soothing and disconcerting at the same time. He wasn't used to being touched so gently, and it made him feel vulnerable.

"It happened during the raid," he said gruffly, his voice laced with pain. "When the warriors attacked, I was fighting them off, and one of them hit me with his club. I didn't have time to avoid the blow.”

She winced in sympathy and rubbed a spot on her arm where she'd also been hit, albeit lighter. They probably hadn't been using their full force with her, several strong male warriors against one woman. Gently, she splayed her hand over his injured leg.. she was already so tired from the earlier enchantment, but if healing him gave them better odds, she would manage.

"I can heal this...if you want?" She asked, looking up into his eyes nervously.

Jaguar-Paw felt a wave of both gratitude and hesitation as she placed her hand on his injured leg. The idea of someone healing him, especially a woman, was strange and foreign to him. In his culture, healing was traditionally left to the shamans and elders, not to outsiders. But he could sense her sincerity and her desire to help him, and he couldn't deny that the pain in his leg was getting worse by the hour.

He looked into her eyes, his expression guarded. "Can you really heal it?" he asked gruffly.

She met his gaze with a confident nod. "I can."

Healing life energy began to pool in the palm of her hand, and it heated up similar to how it had earlier while casting a spell. Sara's eyes drifted closed as she felt the broken blood vessels and bruised muscles of his leg. She willed them to mend quicker, visualizing the damage disappearing like a blossoming flower-- leaving the area new and healthy.

She let out a ragged breath and sagged forward so her forehead nearly touched the ground. "Thank you, Ix'chel." She murmured to her patron, exhausted but grateful for her gifts.

As Sara placed her hand on his leg and began to heal him, Jaguar-Paw could feel a warm, soothing sensation spreading through his injured limb. The pain began to ease, and the stiffness in his muscles loosened. But he could also see the toll that the healing was taking on her, how her eyes closed and her body sagged forward in exhaustion.

He watched her as she murmured her thanks to her patron, feeling a strange mixture of gratitude and guilt. He was touched by her willingness to help him, but he also felt uncomfortable with the idea of being in debt to her.

He wanted to say something, to express his gratitude for her help, but he wasn't used to expressing his emotions in such a way. Instead, he simply grunted and flexed his now healed leg. "It's better," he said gruffly. "You really did it.”

Picking herself back up felt like trying to scrape dried gum off of the bottom of a desk. Her body felt like lead, and she was happy they had already found somewhere to rest because she didn't think she could run or move if she tried. She rested heavily against the dried wood, not even caring if bugs got in her hair.

"You're welcome." She offered with a small smile. "I'm glad I could help.”

As she sank against the wall, her body heavy with exhaustion, Jaguar-Paw couldn't help but feel a pang of guilt at her condition. She had worked so hard, first to communicate with him and now to heal his leg. He could see how tired she looked, how her body seemed to sag from exhaustion.

He couldn't help but feel responsible, as if her exhaustion was somehow his fault. He shifted, making himself more comfortable. "You should rest," he said gruffly, his voice quieter than usual.

"You've done enough." He added, his usual gruffness softened by a hint of concern. He didn't want her to push herself any harder than she already had. "I'll keep watch.”

Sara didn't have it in her to argue. She simply shifted into a more comfortable position and tried her best to relax. But her mind wouldn't turn off and she found herself turning towards Jaguar Paw. Her large dark eyes were curious in the dark.

"Will you tell me about yourself?"

As she turned towards him, her eyes wide and curious in the dark, Jaguar-Paw felt a mix of surprise and unease. He wasn't used to talking about himself, or his past. His people valued strength and bravery above all else, and sharing personal details was seen as a sign of weakness.

But there was something about her that made him want to open up, to share a little bit of his world with her.

"What do you want to know?" he asked gruffly, shifting to make himself more comfortable.

"Everything." She said honestly. Before ending up in this time, she had been fascinated by the Maya. Now that she was there, though...

"How old are you?" She began, her eyes tracing over his features. He was obviously an adult, but beyond that, she couldn't tell.

Jaguar-Paw felt a wave of defensiveness as she asked about his age. In his culture, age was seen as a sign of wisdom and strength, and revealing his age could be seen as a sign of weakness.

But he took a deep breath and tried to let his defensiveness go. He could sense her genuine interest, and he didn't want to shut her out completely.

"Thirty-three," he said gruffly, his eyes meeting hers in the dark.

"Oh. Nice." She stretched, her jean clad legs reached across the space of the hollow for a moment before she curled back up. "I'm twenty-eight."

Her expression turned serious, and she asked in a quiet voice. "Do you know why they wanted us? Who were they?"

As she asked about their captors, Jaguar-Paw's expression darkened. He gritted his teeth and clenched his fists, feeling the anger and frustration rise up inside him at the memory of the raid on his village.

"They are the Chontal," he growled, his voice full of disdain. "They are a tribe of savages and cowards. They raid other villages and take captives to sell as slaves. That's why they wanted us.”

Jaguar-Paw paused for a moment, his jaw clenching as he thought about the raid. "They attacked at dawn, taking us by surprise. We fought back as hard as we could, but they outnumbered us. I was captured trying to protect my family."

He shifted uncomfortably, his gaze lowering to the ground. "The women are prized as slaves for the men to do with as they please," he continued, his voice tight with anger. "And the men are sold to the highest bidder.”

Her eyes widened in shock and she searched her brain for why that sounded familiar. She was sure there was something in the writings of Bernal Díaz del Castillo about the Yokot'anob. The Chontal. Her blood turned to ice. The reality of her situation fully sinking in.

"Shit. I'm so fucked.”

Jaguar-Paw watched her expression change, seeing the horror and realization cross her face as she processed his words. He could sense her terror and fear, and it only seemed to heighten his own anger and frustration at their situation.

"Don't worry," he said gruffly, trying to reassure her. "We'll find a way out of this. We'll get out of this alive and find our way back home."

But the truth was, he wasn't sure if he could keep that promise.

Her lips thinned, and she debated whether or not to tell him the whole truth of her situation. He had already seen her use magic, what point was there in trying to hide it?

"...I don’t think I'll ever be able to go home." She whispered sadly.

Jaguar-Paw's gaze snapped back to hers at her words, his eyes narrowing in confusion. "What do you mean, you won't be able to go home?" he asked gruffly, a hint of concern in his voice.

He had assumed that they were both captives, taken against their will. The idea that she might not be able to go back home was a strange and troubling concept to him.

He shifted uncomfortably, trying to push down the feeling of helplessness that threatened to overwhelm him. His own village was in ruins, his family likely dead or captured...but she was from a different world, a world that he couldn't even begin to understand. Would she ever be able to return to it? And if not, what would that mean for her future?

He wanted to ask more, to probe deeper into her situation and find out more about her world, but the words stuck in his throat.

"So, I'm going to sound crazy but I need you to trust me." She prefaced. With great effort she struggled back up into a sitting position. Her hands shook a little as she raised her shirt again and showed him her tattoo once more. "You remember looking at this, right?"

Jaguar-Paw's eyes widened as she showed him her tattoo again. He remembered seeing it before, though it still confused and perplexed him. Without thinking, he reached out and traced the design with his finger, feeling the smooth skin beneath his calloused fingertips.

"I remember," he said gruffly, his voice a mix of curiosity and wariness. "What about it?”

"So the reason it's such a detailed image of a jaguar is because the year that I'm from, that's a very simple thing to do. Just expensive." She explained, trying to illustrate her truth with something tangible. So that he couldn't deny what she said.

"I'm from the future. Like, a few hundred years in the future." She explained quietly, her eyes searching his face for his reaction.

Jaguar-Paw's mind immediately rejected her words. It was too absurd, too outlandish to believe. People from the future? It was like something out of a dream or a legend, not reality.

"Future..." he repeated, his voice disbelieving. He shook his head, trying to clear his mind. "That's not possible. No one can travel through time.”

Her lips thinned and she nodded, realizing that he might not be ready to hear such a thing. Instead of pushing her point, Sara collapsed back down against the ground. She was too tired to argue with him anyways. Her eyes began to drift closed and she struggled to stay conscious. "Yup. Gotcha.. "

She'd let him come up with his own explanation then. Sara sighed and stretched out once more, beginning to fall asleep.

Jaguar-Paw watched her struggle to stay awake, his mind still trying to make sense of her words. He knew she was tired, exhausted both physically and mentally, but he also knew that their situation was far from over.

He shifted closer to her, feeling a strange need to protect her, and placed a hand on her shoulder. "Get some sleep," he said gruffly. "We'll talk more in the morning.”

She nodded and drifted into a deep, solid healing sleep. It didn't matter that she'd never slept on the bare ground before, Sara slept so heavily that it was like she was back at home in her plush bed. But even then, shortly after the sun began to rise and the moon had fully set she stirred and then jolted awake. The events of the past twenty four hours came rushing back to her and filled her with adrenaline.

Jaguar-Paw was awake before she stirred, his senses hyper-alert and vigilant in the small space. He had spent the night keeping watch, his ears and eyes straining to catch any hint of movement outside the hollow.

As soon as she shifted and jolted awake, his eyes snapped to her face. He had been waiting for her to wake up, wanting to continue their conversation from the night before.

"Morning," he grunted, his voice gruff and tired. "Did you sleep well?”

Sara turned toward Jaguar-Paw and nodded, rubbing the sleep from her eyes. She felt like she'd spent a week camping with no supplies...but it was still infinitely better than being captured as a slave. "Yeah, I'm good. How about you? How are you holding up?"

She felt bad that he'd spent the entire time awake. Sara stretched and sat up more, preparing to take a turn keeping watch so he might also be able to rest for awhile. "How long was I asleep?"

Jaguar-Paw grunted in response to her question, feeling the exhaustion seeping into his bones. "I'm fine," he said gruffly, shifting his position to ease the stiffness in his muscles. "I've had worse."

He watched as she sat up and prepared to take her turn keeping watch, and he couldn't help but feel a pang of guilt. She had exhaustion written all over her face, and he knew she needed more rest. But he also knew that the Chontal could find them at any moment.

"You slept all night," he said, his voice rough with fatigue.

She grimaced and ran a hand through her tangled hair, beginning to systematically take out the knots one by one. "I'm sorry. Healing takes it out of me."

She wasn't used to explaining how her abilities worked but figured she owed him as much. He had helped her escape. They were in this together now.

Jaguar-Paw watched as she worked through the knots in her hair, his gaze tracing over her slender fingers as they moved through the tangles with practiced ease. He had never really paid attention to how delicate a woman's fingers could be.

As she explained the toll that healing took on her, he grunted in understanding. It made sense that using the magics she had would drain her energy. But that also meant that she wasn't at full strength. "How long before you're recovered?" he asked gruffly.

She appreciated how straight to the point he always was. It helped keep her calm and focused. "I'm already mostly back to normal. By tonight it will be like nothing ever happened."

It was unusual for her magic to work that quickly but she could already tell the difference. She felt stronger, and more awake than she had since being captured. It was like the jungle...this time had affected her magic and amplified it somehow.

Jaguar-Paw grunted in acknowledgment at her answer, grateful that she was recovering quickly. But he knew that they couldn't stay in this hollow forever. The Chontal could find them at any moment, and they needed to keep moving if they wanted to survive.

As they sat in silence, he couldn't help but glance over at her again, his eyes tracing over the curves of her body. He tried to ignore the strange feeling that rose up inside him at the sight of her.

He cleared his throat and shifted his gaze away from her, trying to focus on something else. He didn't understand why this woman had such an effect on him. She was so different from any woman he had ever met before, with her strange magic and her soft, delicate appearance. It was like she was from another world.

Suddenly, he remembered her words from the night before. She had said that she wasn't from this time, that she was from the future. He turned back to her, a frown on his face. "You said something last night," he said gruffly. "About being from the from the future. Is that really true?" he asked, his voice a mix of doubt and curiosity. He didn't want to believe such a thing to be possible, but everything about her was so strange and unfamiliar. He had to know the truth.

Sara's lips thinned and she debated telling him. He hadn't reacted the best the night before but she supposed that was understandable. It did sound crazy, even to her own ears. She sighed and began to braid her hair now that most of the tangles had been removed. The atmosphere of the rainforest meant that she would never be able to be rid of all of them as the humidity worked against her.

"Yes. I was telling the truth." She met his eyes, even though everything in her wanted to look away. "If you can feel our connection-- you'll know. It's true."

Jaguar-Paw's frown deepened as she confirmed her previous statement. Time travel? It sounded like the stuff of legends and myths, not something that could be real. But the conviction in her voice was hard to deny.

He shifted, still struggling to process this new information. He could indeed feel a connection between them, a strange pull that he couldn't quite explain. Could that be the proof he was looking for?

He let out a deep breath, his eyes still locked on hers. "What does that mean, this connection between us?" he asked gruffly.

"It's a side affect of the spell I cast so you could understand me...I didn't realize it would connect us quite so deeply." She explained, a blush rising to her cheeks.

Jaguar-Paw's eyes widened at her explanation. So it was a side effect of her magic, not something more. He felt a pang of disappointment in his chest, but he pushed it down, reminding himself that this woman was a stranger, and not someone he should be having such thoughts about.

He forced a gruff nod in response to her words, trying to hide the effect they were having on him. "So it'll go away eventually?" he asked, his voice rough.

At that question she had to look away, her eyebrows coming together as she tried to find the words to explain what she knew. "...Perhaps. I've never done a spell like that before. I've never time traveled before. I know it sounds crazy-- I feel crazy." She explained, desperately hoping he believed her.

Jaguar-Paw watched as she struggled to find the words to explain her situation. He could feel her desperation, her need for him to believe her. He knew that she was telling the truth, even if it seemed like something straight out of a story.

"It does sound crazy," he admitted gruffly, his eyes still locked on her face. "But I believe you."

He paused for a moment, choosing his next words carefully. "What happens now? If this connection doesn't go away?”

Her full lips pursed as she thought about all of the possible consequences. When she focused, she could feel him there in the back of her mind. His thoughts and feelings where like the softest whisper-- it took only a little bit of effort to turn up that dial until she could feel what he felt. Can you hear me? She thought at him curiously, not sure how far the connection went.

Jaguar-Paw's eyes widened as he suddenly felt a strange sensation in his mind. It was like a soft whisper, barely there but somehow still clear. He focused on the feeling, trying to figure out where it was coming from.

And then he heard her voice, clear as day in his mind. Can you hear me?

He let out a start of surprise, his eyes snapping back to her face. "I can hear you," he said gruffly. "You're in my head.”

Her heart dropped but she could understand why he would want that. Sara looked down at her hands, the lines of her palms and broken nails. "I'm not sure how to break the connection, if we can while I'm still..." Alive. She finished silently, knowing now that he would be able to hear the thought. It was an odd, deep connection that she had never shared with anyone. Great Mother, Ix'Chel, what have you done? She lamented.

"I promise I'll find a way to fix it once we're safe." She swore, a fierce determination in her expression.

Jaguar-Paw's heart clenched as he caught her silent thought, sensing the despair behind her words. But the determination in her expression reassured him, and he found himself believing her promise.

He let out a deep breath, trying to calm the turmoil of emotions inside him. He had never expected to find himself connected to someone like this, especially not a woman from the future. But here they were, forced to rely on each other both emotionally and physically.

"Okay," he grumbled, his voice gruff. "But you better keep that promise.”

[iwritesmutnottragedy]

The next three months passed by peacefully. Sara's morning sickness and fatigue came and went and she was once again able to spend her time getting accustomed to life on Fraser's Ridge. She had come a long way in learning the daily tasks that were necessary to keep life turning, but found that what she was best at tended to be minding the children. Ian's nephews were both toddlers and Sara usually spent her days with Lizzie, Brianna's handmaid, keeping an eye on them while their parents did more productive work around the property.

It was a chilly winter day and the bairns were bundled up and playing in the snow. Sara wrapped her wool shawl tighter around herself and shot a concerned look towards Lizzie as she watched Fergus' son Germain begin to wander too close to the tree line. "I'll fetch him."

She followed after the small boy quickly, her breath making visible clouds of steam in front of her face. One hand rested on the growing bump of her stomach, the added weight was starting to affect her balance. Concern began to turn into panic as she looked around for the toddler, losing him after he turned the the corner around a rather large tree stump. A cry of surprise made her heart clench in sudden fear.

"Germain!" She called, and ran after the sound. Her eyes widened at the sight before her.

A young stag, only a few years old if she had to guess by the state of his antlers, was staring down Fergus' son with a look that sent ice through her veins. For what it was worth, Germain had realized his mistake of wandering almost immediately and looked at Sara with an expression torn between fear and shame. Her voice came out clipped and forceful, leaving no room for the child to argue. "Germain. Go find Lizzie. Now."

The small child turned on his heels and began to run, the buck let out a huff of anger and moved to charge after him. Without thinking, Sara lurched forward and slammed into the heavy weight of the beast, sending them both tumbling to the ground. The quick action gave the toddler enough time to escape, but now she was tangled up with an angry, panicked deer.

She couldn't help but scream in fear as the animal thrashed, the short sharp nubs of its antlers tangled in her dress and ripped the fabric, exposing her to the cold winter air. With a desperate roll, Sara flung herself away and towards a nearby tree. The deer let out a honking bellow of anger, getting ready to charge her once more…She scrambled for the small dirk that Ian had given her, strapped to her thigh.

The blade was no match for the animal but it was all she had, so when the buck staggered to it's feet and gave another furious honk-- she prepared herself for what would come next. Had she thought she could be a hunter? Sara screamed as the animal lunged but she knew she had to protect herself, if not for just her than to protect their baby. The knife broke through the thick skin of the buck's throat with surprising force, his antler dug into her shoulder. The blunted nub still managed to rip through fabric and skin alike.

But then, when she thought all hope was lost-- the animal gave up and sagged on top of her. Its eyes now glassy and lifeless as her dagger stuck out from it's neck. Sara sat there under the deer's weight, panting and in shock. She didn't even hear her name being called or the fast approaching footsteps until Ian was standing in front of her, her eyes slowly moved to meet his.

Ian was in the midst of a rather mundane task - chopping firewood for the winter - when he heard Sara's call for Germain. He paused for a moment, his heart giving a little jump of worry. With her being pregnant, he didn't like the idea of her chasing after a toddler by herself.

But he brushed it off, figuring that Germain was only wandering a short distance. He continued his chopping, the rhythm of the axe almost lulling him into a state of complacency.

But then he heard it. The unmistakable sound of a terrified scream. The axe dropped from his hand and he was running before he even consciously registered the sound. He knew it was Sara. It had to be. His heart was in his throat as he ran through the snow towards the direction he'd heard her scream from.

He could hear the thrashing and panicked honking of a buck before he could see what was happening. He forced his legs to move faster, pushing himself harder, his own breath coming in ragged gasps.

Finally, he broke through the trees and saw the scene before him. Sara was lying on the ground, pinned by the weight of the buck. Even from a distance, he could see the blood on her shoulder and the terrified look in her eyes.

"Sara!" he shouted, the word tearing from his throat as he ran towards her. His heart was pounding so hard he felt like it would burst from his chest. He stumbled to his knees beside her, his hands immediately going to the buck's body, trying to lift it off of her.

"Are ye alright, lass?" he gasped, his eyes roaming over her, taking in the damage. The sight of her blood made his stomach twist. He continued to wrestle with the bulk of the deer, trying to push it off of her. "Can ye move?”

"I-Ian?" Her voice sounded small and distant even to her own ears and she did her best to pull herself free with his help. Her whole body shook like a leaf but even with her dress torn to shreds, she wasn't cold. Large dark eyes looked down at her body, lingering over the swell of her stomach and her voice trembled with fear.

"I..I don't know." The lingering adrenaline and shock kept any injuries from making themselves known. Her hands pressed desperately against her stomach, hoping for some kind of sign everything was okay.

Ian's heart clenched at her shaky voice. He finally managed to pull most of the weight of the buck off of her, and he immediately took her into his arms, pulling her against him.

His own hands went to her stomach too, gently stroking the curves. "Shhhhh, lass," he soothed, his own voice roughened with fear. "Is the bairn alright? Is there any pain?”

Her hands clutched him to her, feeling scared and vulnerable but safer in Ian's arms. Sara buried her face against his chest and forced herself to take deep, calming breaths. To get back in touch with her body despite the way her mind wanted to retreat in self defense. There was a sharp pain in her shoulder from where the buck had nearly gored her, and she could feel bruises on her legs and hips where it's hooves had mercilessly kicked at her…but the baby seemed fine. There was no pain in her stomach, no cramping.

"I think the baby's okay." She spoke after a minute, her body sagging a bit in relief. "But I…I can't tell for sure. We-- we should go see your Aunt Claire." She tried to stand but her back flared with pain where she'd been slammed up against the tree. "Mm…I don't know if I can walk right now though.."

Ian took a deep breath at her words, relief warring with worry. He could see the fear and vulnerability etched on her face, and he held her close, as if he could protect her from anything.

His hands gently palpated her stomach, feeling for any signs of injury. But when she said the baby seemed fine, he let out a shaky sigh of relief.

"Aye," he said gruffly. "We need to see Auntie. And ye're not gonna be walking anywhere, mo ghràdh.”

He hoisted her up into his arms, carrying her as if she weighed no more than a child. His heart ached each time she winced in pain as her injuries were jarred, but he just clenched his jaw and carried on towards the house.

For once Sara didn't complain as Ian took charge and carried her to the main house. She simply settled into his arms and tried not to think about the various aches and pains that were settling into her system. Her back felt like one big bruise and every once in awhile when he would have to step over a log or rock, the shifting pressure against her hip made her gasped in surprise.

It still felt unreal to her, what had just happened. When she closed her eyes she could still see the huge dark eyes of the book staring her down and its breath as it steamed around his dark furry face. Suddenly, she sat up a little bit straighter and Ian's arms- her voice sharp with panic.

"Germain, is he okay? I went looking for him…that's when we found the buck." She gave a pained chuckle. "Or I guess, he found us.”

Ian's jaw tightened as he heard the pain in her voice with every movement. It took all his control not to break into a run, but he didn't want to jostle her any more than necessary.

"Germain is fine, mo ghràdh," he reassured her. "Lizzie found him. He's in the main house, probably getting pampered like the little demon he is.”

She sagged against him in relief, her mind finally relaxing as Ian carried her all the way to Claire's operating room and laid her down gently on the table there.

Her dress was torn from her shoulder to her hip, exposing her ripped underdress and some shallow scratches along her skin. Claire began removing what was left of the fabric dutifully and her Sharp gray eyes landed on the large tattoo that wove its way up Sara's side and across her back with a look of barely restrained shock.

It seemed as if Brianna hadn't told her mother about Sara's tattoos, and the other time traveler reacted with barely contained surprise. She covered the skin back up quickly and looked at Ian with a tight expression.

"Perhaps you should give us a minute," she spoke as kindly as she could. " I have to ask her a few questions, I'll come and get you right after. “

Ian gave Claire a jerky nod, his eyes flicking back to Sara's pale face. He wanted to protest, to refuse to leave her side, but he could see the determination in Claire's eyes. He trusted her judgement.

With a final squeeze of Sara's hand, he forced himself to leave the room. The door closed behind him, leaving Sara alone with Claire.

"…Is it bad?" Her voice trembled and she tried to think of a reason why Claire would send Ian out of the room. The only thing that her mind could come up with immediately was that there was something wrong with the baby and she hadn't realized it yet.

"Well it certainly isn't ideal. " Claire spoke as she began to clean the wound on Sara's shoulder.

"Brianna told me after the wedding but she didn't tell me the extent you would have to go to in order to keep the secret." Sara blushed and shifted away from Claire's hands for just a moment. She could sense a note of judgment in the older woman's voice but tried to remind herself that even though they were both from the future, Claire was still from a much older time. It made sense that she would have some feelings about Sarah being heavily tattooed.

"I really tried, Claire. " Sara whispered and her hands flexed and fidgeted at her sides. "But…the baby is okay?"

Claire's expression shifted from controlled and slightly disappointed to surprised and chagrined. "Oh yes, I'm sorry. Everything seems to be fine with the baby."

Claire saw the relief flood Sara's face at the news of the baby being well. She relaxed slightly and continued to clean the wound with a touch that was both gentle and efficient.

"I didn't mean to worry you," she said, her tone gentle. "I just wanted to make sure everything was okay."

She focused on the wound, carefully stitching it up as she spoke. "Your tattoos…are quite extensive.”

Sara rolled her eyes and reclined back against the table this time looking down to appreciate the roaring jaguar on her side. "Yeah, I think women started getting more tattoos and like the '80s? By my time, it's pretty common for anyone to have one if they want it." She explained and idly plucked at the torn fabric of her dress to distract herself.

"But it has made things here a little bit more… complicated. “

Claire gave a hum of acknowledgement, her eyes fixed on the intricate, colorful design of the jaguar. "It's beautiful," she said, her tone sincere. "Quite different from what I'm used to seeing here in this era."

She finished with the stitches and moved to look at some of the other scrapes and bruises, her touch firm but still gentle. "I can imagine it would cause some…headaches, at least in this time.”

Sara winced slightly at Claire's touch, her body already starting to ache from her ordeal. "Yeah," she muttered, her tone dry. "I guess you could say that."

She sighed and shifted on the table. "How bad is it? The bruising, I mean.”

Claire's expression was solemn as she finished her examination. "You've suffered some bruised ribs, possibly a fracture or two. Your back is badly bruised, and your hip will definitely be stiff and sore for a day or two. But it's unlikely anything is broken, thankfully."

She paused, her expression turning stern. "I expect you to take it easy. No strenuous activity for a while, understood?”

She nodded along to Claire's assessment, listening to the diagnostic and mentally adjusting to what the next couple of weeks might look like for her while healing from these injuries. She cleared her throat quietly when Claire was done speaking and looked up at the other woman with large vulnerable eyes.

"And…the secret? It was hard enough keeping it hidden from Ian before, but now after these injuries… I don't think I can come up with a good reason to keep him away.”

Claire took a deep breath, understanding the weight of Sara's words. She looked down at her with a sympathetic expression.

"I understand your concerns," she said gently. "And I know this has been a heavy burden to bear."

She paused, her voice becoming quieter, almost conspiratorial. "And perhaps now is as good a time as any to tell him the truth. With your injuries…he's going to be worried sick otherwise. I'll handle his uncle, he'll understand.”

Sara sank gratefully against the table and resisted the urge to cover her face with her hands and let out a shaky sob. Being able to tell Ian everything she had been eating was the biggest relief, almost bigger than finding out that their baby was safe.

Claire patted her shoulder affectionately and turned to leave the room and allow Ian back inside so they could have a moment of privacy. Sara managed to pull the blanket up around herself before he entered, knowing that what she had to say needed to be done with tact and not just him finding out upon first sight of her truly naked body.

Ian burst into the room, his eyes immediately seeking out Sara. He took in her injured face, her bandaged shoulder, and the way she clutched the blanket so tight around herself that her knuckles were white.

He rushed to her side, his hands hovering over her as if afraid to touch her, afraid that any movement would bring her more pain. His heart ached at the sight of her.

"Mo ghràdh," he breathed, his voice a rough whisper. "Are ye alright? How badly are ye hurt?"

He reached out to gently touch her cheek, his touch tentative, as if trying to avoid causing her any further pain. His eyes scanned her face, taking in the bruises and cuts, the pain etched in her expression.

She took his hand and pressed it to her skin, taking comfort from him being there. Her dark eyes were tired. "I'll be okay. She says it's probably some bruised ribs, maybe a fracture but nothings broken. The baby is ok."

She watched his face as she explained her injuries, trying not to think about the different aches and pains as they were listed. "I'm supposed to take it easy for a few days."

Despite her words, Sara tried to sit up straighter and swing her legs over the side of the exam table. Her back and hip flared in pain, protesting the sudden movement. "But right now I just want to go home…"

Ian's heart clenched as he watched her struggle to move, the pain clear on her face. He instinctively moved closer, his hands hovering near her, ready to catch her if she fell.

"Och mo ghràdh," he muttered, his voice gruff and worried. "Ye need to be careful. Yer injuries aren't something to mess with."

He placed a gentle hand on her arm, holding her in place. "No moving just yet, ye hear? Let's get ye dressed first, then we'll take ye home.”

She nodded, even though her heart raced at a thought. Ian went to go and fetch her a clean night dress, not bothering to get her fully clothed for the day when they would just be removing those same articles of clothing as soon as they got home. When he returned he helped her slowly climb off of the table, the thin blanket still wrapped around her. Once she was standing on her own, Sara hesitated for just a moment, not sure whether she should say anything beforehand or just drop the blanket and let him see.

She had always remained clothed when they were intimate or their nights were spent together only illuminated by dim firelight - he had never seen her body in broad daylight or seen the intricate tattoos that decorated it.

With a sudden realization, she paused. This would be the real test, the moment where he would have to decide if her secrets were too much for him. When she might lose him forever.

Sara's hands started to shake but she forced herself to release the blanket and allow it to pool around her feet. Her arms came up to wrap around her bare chest as she stood before him-- a mess of scrapes and bruises and her stomach gently rounded with their child growing inside, but even more so covered in a mix of patchwork tattoos that were beyond the skill or technology of anything capable in the year 1770.

Ian froze. His breath caught in his throat as the blanket dropped, exposing the full extent of Sara's body art. His eyes widened as they roamed over her skin, taking in the dizzying array of colors and shapes inked into her skin.

He took a step towards her, his gaze tracing the sharp lines of a roaring jaguar on her side. His hand hovered just above her skin, almost afraid to touch, as if he feared the tattoos would disappear like some kind of strange trickery of the light.

"Mo ghràdh…”

"It's a lot…I know." Slowly she reached for Ian's hand, as though afraid she might scare him, and lowered it down onto an area of tattooed skin that wasn't mottled by bruising. The texture of the raised ink was still soft and not noticeable unless someone knew what they were looking for. It was no wonder that in the dark he'd had no idea the markings were there.

"I'll answer any questions you have. I've been wanting to tell you since.. well, since before the wedding to be honest. “

Ian allowed her to guide his hand onto her skin, his eyes glued to the place where his hand met her body. He traced his fingers softly over the raised ink, feeling the slight texture under his fingertips.

"How…?" he muttered, his voice hoarse, his eyes roving over her body as his hand continued to explore. "When…how is this even possible?”

Shivered at his touch, pleasant in the face of all the different aches that she was dealing with at the moment. Sara reached up and talked some hair behind her ears while she thought of how to best explain what he was seeing. She figured that bluntly and honestly was probably the best solution. Ian was a smart man she had to trust that he would understand.

"I got that one when I turned 18. It's a jaguar, a big cat in South America." She explained slowly and calmly. She brought his hand up and over to another tattoo that started just under her rib cage and traced around to her back shoulder blade. "These flowers I got a couple years ago. Hydrangeas were my grandmother's favorite."

When she was finished she reached for the night dress that Ian had brought and slipped it over her head, hiding the rest of her tattoos from view. They were so much different than the little pin prick stick and poke dot tattoos that he had gotten while living with the mohawk.

"I got these tattoos because I wanted them. Because I could get them…" Her eyes looked up into his wide blue ones, scared of what she might find there.

"Because in the year that I'm from, 2023, any adult who wants them can have them.”

Ian listened intently to her explanation, watching her every movement as she showed him each tattoo. He could see the meaning behind them, the memories attached to each one.

His eyes widened as she spoke of the year 2023, his mind struggling to comprehend a future almost 200 years away. He could barely wrap his head around the idea, the thought of that far of a distant future almost incomprehensible to him.

He reached out to gently touch her shoulder, his fingers skimming over the fabric of her nightdress. "…the future? That far?" he whispered breathlessly.

For several long moments Ian was speechless, his mind racing to process everything Sara had just told him. He stared at her, his eyes wide with disbelief, his hand still resting on her shoulder.

"Ye…came from the future?" he finally managed to gasp out. "From…2023?”

"About a little over a year ago, yes." She kept her expression open and her tone light and honest. "I was born in the year 1999."

Ian blinked at her, his brain struggling to process the information. 1999…he couldn't even fathom it.

"So ye…" He swallowed hard, his mind grasping for something tangible. "Ye lived in the future, and then somehow ye… came here? To 1770? Is that what yer tellin' me?”

"Yes." She was relieved that he seemed to understand what she was saying, but the way he kept repeating it caused a little bit of concern to flare up inside of her. Sara took a step towards Ian, but she didn't reach out to touch him in case he thought she was some kind of witch or fairy who might wish him ill will.

"I promise I'll tell you anything, everything you want to know. But.." she shifted her weight from one for the to the other and had to reach out and steady herself on the exam table to stop from almost toppling over as a bruised hip sent a stabbing pain of her side. "Maybe after we're home?"

As Sara stumbled, Ian instinctively reached out to steady her, his arm going around her waist to hold her up. He looked down at her with concern written all over his face, his mind still reeling.

"Aye, home," he agreed, his voice a low rumble. "Let's get ye home first, then we can talk all ye like."

He wrapped an arm around her shoulders, supporting her as she walked, ensuring that she wouldn't stumble again. With every step, his mind churned with a thousand questions.

It took longer than usual for them to get back to their newly built cabin. It wasn't a very big house, but it was more than enough room for the both of them and she couldn't help but sigh with automatic relief as she passed over the threshold into their home. Slowly, she made her way over to their bed and began to remove the heavy coat she wore as they walked through the snow. The boots on her feet were kicked off by the door so that no muddy slush could be tracked inside.

With shaky arms Sara lowered herself down onto the bed and tried her best to just relax. Her entire back felt like one giant bruise and each harsh inhale sent a stabbing pain in her chest from potentially fractured ribs. But it was still a relief to be home, alive, and with Ian at her side.

" I swear after this every damn deer I see is my enemy. " her words were teasing but there was an air of shaky resentment there when she brought up the animal that had attacked her.

Ian helped her ease onto the bed, his hands gentle yet firm on her injured body. He could see the pain etched on her face and in her movements, and it made his heart clench.

He chuckled softly at her words about the deer. "Aye, I suppose ye have every right to hold a grudge," he said, trying to keep his tone light even as his worry for her mounted.

As she settled herself in, he crouched down in front of her, his eyes searching her face. "Are ye in much pain?”

"Just…really sore." She didn't want to tell him yes, that her entire body felt like it had been held upside down and beaten with a bat. Instead she reached one of her hands out palm up so that he could take it if he so chose. But her eyes closed against the pain in her ribs and she did her best to make sure that her breathing remains slow and even, as sudden harsh and gasps only caused more discomfort.

"Will you lay with me? " she asked, her voice small and needy.

Ian took her outrgestured hand in his, his fingers squeezing hers gently. He could see the pain she was trying to hide, the way she flinched with every breath.

"I'll lay with ye, mo ghràdh," he said, his voice low and soothing. He climbed onto the bed, carefully easing himself up beside her, making sure not to jostle her too much.

He wrapped his arms around her, pulling her gently against his chest as he settled her head against his shoulder.

They lay like that for a long moment, their bodies intertwined, each lost in their own thoughts. The only sound was the soft, steady beat of Ian's heart against her ear, the slow rhythm calming her even as it echoed her own beating heart.

Finally, Ian spoke, his voice a low rumble that vibrated through his chest. "Sara…" he whispered, his fingers absently stroking her hair. "Can ye…tell me about the future? About when ye came from?”

She was quiet, her breathing slow and easy, but not asleep. The feeling of Ian's fingers gently trailing through her hair soothed away some of the pain that persistently tugged on her senses. When his voice finally interrupted the silence she turned her head to the side a little to try and peek at him from the corner of her eyes. He didn't sound nearly as shocked as earlier and she figured now was as good a time as any to tell him her whole truth.

"Of course," She said quietly. " What do you want to know?”

Ian's fingers continued to idly trace through Sara's hair, the familiar feel and scent of her grounding him even as his mind raced with questions. He let out a soft sigh, taking a moment to collect his thoughts before he spoke again.

"I dinna ken where to start," he admitted, his eyes fixed on a spot on the ceiling above them. "What was yer life like…in the future? What was it like to live in 2023?”

"…I miss it, sometimes." She confessed, but leaned back against him despite the way her back protested the movement. "I had my own home, but it was in a vehicle so I spent the year traveling around the country and selling art at cultural gatherings. That's…that's what I was doing when I…ended up here. In this time."

It felt as real as a bedtime story now. And she struggled to feel like that had actually been her life.

Ian listened intently to her explanation, his fingers still playing with her hair as he tried to picture the life she had left behind. A life spent traveling and creating art, living on the road and connecting with different cultures.

He could see the longing in her eyes as she spoke, the wistfulness in her voice as she remembered her old life. He felt a pang in his chest at the thought of her being ripped away from all she had known and loved.

"And…did ye have family in the future?" he asked quietly.

She was silent for a few minutes, a shudder of emotion ran through her as the memories came back. Slowly at first, then rushing like a tidal wave to overwhelm her. "My parents are divorced, they don't speak to each other and lived in different parts of the country."

She didn't linger on that fact, not wanting to explain how common divorce was in her time. "My siblings lived in my home town. Two sisters. Both younger…" She trailed off as her voice got shaky. "They probably don't know what happened to me."

Ian's heart clenched as he listened to her explain about her family. He could hear the pain in her voice, the way her words caught in her throat. His fingers stopped in their movement, instead going to rest gently on her shoulder, offering comfort.

He leaned forward, his lips pressing against her temple. "I'm so sorry, mo ghràdh," he whispered, his voice soft and gentle. "I hate that ye're here, away from yer family and home…it must be so hard…”

She turned fully so she could face him, letting out a small hiss of pain as she did do but needing him to see her face when she spoke. Her hand reached up to smooth back some of his fiery hair. "No, no don't think that."

Her thumb traced the tattoos across his face. "I don't think I would go back, even if I could." She grabbed one of his hands with her free one and guided it to the bump of her stomach. "My life is here now."

A smile quirked her lips despite how heavy both her heart and body felt. "I'm just glad you don't think I'm a witch."

Ian chuckled lightly at her words, his fingers tracing over the bump of her stomach. The life growing inside her always filled him with awe and wonder, a reminder of the future they were building together.

"No," he said, his voice filled with affection. "I dinna think ye're a witch, lass."

He gently pulled her closer against him, mindful not to cause her any pain. He ran his fingers through her hair, his touch tender yet possessive. "I'm just happy to have ye here, wi' me…and our bairn.”

They lay there for a while in silence, the only sound in the room the soft, steady beat of their hearts. Ian kept his arm wrapped around her, his fingers idly tracing patterns on her back.

[iwritesmutnottragedy]

Two months passed between Ian and Sara with forced, awkward civility. Neither of them were willing to bring up the conversation they had that night or apologize for their parts in it. During the day they avoided each other and focused on their individual tasks and at night they laid in silence, listening to each other's breathing or staring at the ceiling. It was torture for her but she knew if she tried to fix things, they went back to the way they were - he would eventually find out about her secret.

If it was her choice, she would tell him everything. She would spill her guts like she had been doing every morning for the past week in private. She didn't know if it was the stress from keeping his family and her combined secret or a stomach bug that karma had decided to punish her with but she couldn't seem to keep anything down anymore.

After visiting Ian's Aunt Claire and telling her about this mysterious illness, for fear that she would accidentally pass it on to other people- especially Ian, Claire did some kind of old school tests and basic math figure out that she was.. pregnant.

Pregnant.

The word repeated in her head like some sick kind of mantra and instead of waiting for Ian to get home that night so they could talk, she decided to walk a couple of miles out to the plot of land they had picked to build their house on -- where she found him working diligently on the foundation.

Ian's gaze was fixed on the foundation he was working on, his hands moving in a practiced, steady rhythm. He had been at it for hours, the muscles in his forearms and back aching with the familiar burn of hard labor.

Suddenly, he heard the crunch of boots approaching, and he looked up to see Sara walking towards him. His expression was stoic, betraying none of the emotions that roiled within him. He watched as she approached, his eyes dark and unreadable as he waited for her to speak.

Her jaw twitched in irritation. It had been like this between them for so long, she refused to be the one to break. Even though the strained silence between them felt like it was killing her. She wrapped her shawl around herself to protect from the breeze and finally met Ian's eyes. Her voice was distant when she spoke at first, as if she was still numb and struggling to accept the news. Part of her, the part that was still irrationally mad at him, rankled at the tension that still hung in the air whenever she got near.

"Ian." Her voice was cool, not betraying the turmoil of emotions she was feeling inside. She took a few careful steps closer until she had crossed into his work space, but still far enough away that the distance between them was still palpable. Her hands shakily dusted off the long skirt she wore. "We need to talk."

Ian's hands stilled at her words, his muscles tensing instinctively at the sound of her voice. His eyes darted to her, taking in her closed-off expression and the tension in her body. He set down the shovel he was using and stood up, his arms crossing over his chest in a defensive pose, his own expression guarded.

"Go on," he said gruffly, his voice betraying a hint of the exhaustion he felt from the last two months of this weird stalemate they seemed to have found themselves in.

Sara scrubbed both of her hands over her face and let out a heavy sigh. It was no use beating around the bush or dragging this out. Ian was either going to react well or he wasn't and she had to stop making choices out of fear. It only made everything a hundred times worse. She opened her mouth to tell him, to explain that she didn't expect this to fix things between them-- when a sudden intense wave of nausea rose in her gut.

"Shit, just…one minute.." She turned and walked a few feet away to the nearest tree line, promptly doubled over at the waist and let out a string of harsh retches. Unfortunately she had ejected most of her morning breakfast already, so all that came up was the bitterest bile. Gasping, Sara scrubbed her mouth with the back of her hand then turned towards Ian with a flushed, embarrassed expression.

"Sorry about that."

Ian's expression changed from guarded to concerned in an instant as he watched her turn away and head towards the tree line. He moved closer, his strides long and swift, his hands clenching at his sides as he listened to the sounds of her retching behind the trees.

The sound filled him with an inexplicable sense of worry, the concern for her health overriding the anger and distance between them. He reached her just as she turned back towards him, and when he spoke, his voice held a note of strain that betrayed his own emotions.

"Are ye sick, lass?”

Her stomach still clenched and rolled, threatening to rebel again-- but Sara took deep calming breathes until the feeling began to pass. Stars danced in front of her eyes from the intense near dry heaving but as they faded she could see Ian standing in front of her looking…concerned? At least that was better than the emotionless mask he'd been wearing around her lately. She took a step away from the puddle of sick she'd just created, kicking dirt and leaves on top before finally turning back to Ian and explaining herself.

"I'm fine, mostly." Her arms wrapped around her, pulling her shawl close in a self soothing hug. "But…I have some news. I wanted to tell you as soon as I found out instead of wait until you got back this evening."

Ian's concern only deepened at the sight of her struggling to regain her composure. His eyes followed her movements as she kicked dirt over the puddle, a frown creasing his brow.

When she spoke, he braced himself for whatever it was she was about to say, his body tense and his mind racing through a hundred possibilities, each one more worrying than the last. He swallowed visibly, his throat feeling tight.

"What is it, then?" he asked, his voice carefully neutral.

There was no more avoiding him, no more hiding. Sara forced herself to stand up her full height and made sure to look deeply into his guarded blue eyes when she spoke; "I'm pregnant."

Ian's world seemed to come to a screeching halt at her words. His eyes widened in shock, his body going completely still as he processed what she'd just said.

For a few moments, he just stared at her, his mind struggling to catch up with the information she'd just dropped on him. Pregnancy.

A thousand thoughts and emotions raced through his head in that moment - surprise, shock, fear, joy, love, confusion. His jaw worked silently as he tried to force words out, but they felt stuck in his throat.

Finally, he managed to speak, his voice a hoarse whisper.

"Preg… Are ye sure?" he managed to choke out, his eyes searching her face for any hint of doubt or uncertainty.

"Yes." Her tone was weary, tired, but definitely sure. Sara's shoulders seemed to slump a little bit as she tried to gauge Ian's reaction in vain. She knew he had a complicated, haunted, history regarding marriage and children and had no idea how he might react to news that she was carrying their child. Especially since he had lost children before during pregnancy.

"I haven't been able to keep anything down for a week so I did some math and realized that I've missed two cycles. I had your aunt confirm it this morning." She didn't understand exactly what Claire had done, but she seemed sure enough when she congratulated Sara only a few minutes later.

"I came to tell you as soon as I knew…I didn't want to wait until later."

Ian's mind was spinning, a maelstrom of emotion and thought that threatened to overwhelm him. The news that she was pregnant sent a wave of fear through him - a fear he had felt twice before but never fully dealt with. It mixed with a sense of hope and dread, the happiness of impending fatherhood tempered by the bitter memory of past losses.

He took a step closer to her, his eyes never leaving her face. His hands, clenched into tight fists at his sides, slowly began to uncurl.

"When do ye…when's the child due?" he asked, his voice low and rough.

Not being able to tell how he was feeling was started to make her anxious and Sara rocked back on her heels, the weight of his stare felt like it was boring a hole through her. She wished he would just tell her what he was thinking. With a heavy sigh she pressed a shaky hand against her temple, all of the vomiting that day having summoned a growing headache.

"Awhile. Half a year at least." There was no way of knowing the exact date of conception in this time, no ultrasounds or neonatal vitamins. Just thinking about it made her chest tight with fear. Finally she couldn't take it anymore, her shoulder sagged and Sara closed the distance between them, desperately looking up into his eyes.

"Ian…tell me what you're thinking? Please?" Her hands twisted and turned anxiously where they were clasped around her middle. Her voice was unbearably small.

Ian's heart ached at the note of fear and desperation in her voice. He could see her trying to hold it together, to keep her worry hidden, but it was futile. He knew her too well.

He reached for her then, his hands moving to grip her shoulders, gently but firmly, feeling the tension that coursed through her. He hesitated for a moment, his own feelings a tangled mess, but her plea pierced through his turmoil.

His eyes met hers, their gazes locked, and after a long moment, he finally spoke.

"I dinna know what to think," he admitted. "I'm… scared. Terrified, if I'm honest."

He paused, his fingers flexing slightly against her shoulders as he wrestled with his emotions.

"After what happened before… the thought of losing another bairn…"

He broke off, his voice catching in his throat. He swallowed harshly, his grip on her shoulders tightening unconsciously in his fear and anxiety.

She understood. It was a pain she had never experienced but knew that the wounds were still deep in his mind. They may never heal completely and she had easily accepted that. Hearing him admit that he was also afraid helped to bring forth a little of her own courage and she wrapped her arms around him, pulling him close. The fight, the distance between them, seemed to disappear for her in the face of this life changing news.

"I thought about waiting to tell you," She confessed. "Until I knew that the chances of loss were less…but I couldn't keep this from you."

Ian's arms encircled her, his embrace tight as he pulled her against him. Her words and her touch were a comfort, grounding him in the middle of the storm of emotions swirling inside him.

He held her for a long moment, his face buried in her hair, as he fought to collect his thoughts.

Finally, he spoke, his voice gruff but filled with a vulnerable honesty.

"Thank ye for telling me, love," he murmured into her hair. "I know it couldn't have been easy to carry this alone, even for a few days.”

She nodded and fought back the tears that suddenly welled up in her eyes. After months of tension between them, having his arms wrapped around her loosened a tightness in her chest that she had almost forgotten was there. For awhile she had worried that this would be their new normal, that he would hold her cruelly spoken words against her forever. Sara looped her arms around Ian's neck and pressed her face against his chest, breathing in the smell of him.

"I missed you." She gasped around a sob. "I…I missed being able to talk to you so much. I'm so sorry for everything I said."

Her words and her tears broke his heart. Ian's arms held her tightly against him, and he buried his face in her hair, his own eyes stinging.

"Shhh, love, dinna fash," he murmured, his voice hoarse with emotion. "I've missed ye too, more than I can say. I'm sorry as well. I shouldna have shut ye out like that. I was just so hurt…"

He trailed off, his throat tight with unshed tears. He took a shaky breath and continued, his voice thick.

"But I promise ye this, I won't ever leave ye and I won't shut ye out again."

He pulled back slightly to look down at her, his hands coming up to cradle her face gently.

"I love ye, mo chridhe. Whatever comes next, we'll face it together," he said fiercely, his eyes searching hers.

Finally a watery smile formed on her face. It felt nice, like she had spent weeks without even of glimmer of hope that things would be okay between them. Sara leaned into his touch, turning her face to the side to press a gently kiss on Ian's palm. Her heart felt so full that nothing else in that moment mattered. Not her secret, or his family's, or anything else in the world-- only them.

"I love you too." The words were spoken fiercely, her embrace tightening on him just a fraction. "Always."

Ian felt her smile against his palm and his heart leapt in his chest. Her words, spoken with such force and conviction, washed over him like a balm to his soul.

His arms encircled her once more, pulling her tightly against him, their bodies flush against each other. He buried his face in the crook of her neck, his breath hot against her skin as he inhaled the scent of her, his emotions running high.

"Forever," he murmured against her skin, his lips grazing her neck.

A shiver ran up her spine at the feeling of his breath ghosting over her neck. Her fingers tightened in the leather of his vest and she let out a deep, contented sigh. Her own hands gentled carded through the thin braids at the base of his neck, her nails gently scraping over the muscles there that were still a little tense from a day's hard work.

Sara pulled back so that she could look at him, one of her hands moved to cup the side of his face. Her lashes fluttered and without thinking her lips parted in quiet invitation to be kissed. A wicked idea floated across her mind and she barely suppressed the smirk that wanted to form.

"I would like to…show you how much I missed you, husband."

The way she said husband set fire to his veins. The word fell from her lips like a promise… and a challenge. Ian couldn't resist.

He closed the distance between them, his hand coming up to tangle in her hair and tug her head back just a fraction, his mouth claiming hers in a possessive kiss.

He kissed her hungrily, all of the pent-up passion, frustration, and desire from the past weeks rising to the surface, pouring into the kiss. His other arm wrapped around her waist, pulling her even closer, crushing her against him.

She met him with equal intensity, the moment he was on her-- kissing him back with such fervor that the air around them felt thin and shaky. Her body pressed against his as he pulled her closer, thirsty for any contact from Ian that she could get. She opened her mouth to him, taking him in as their tongues danced and slid against each other sinfully.

Her hands flew to the buttons and ties of his leather pants, trying to quickly undo them with trembling fingers. With a frustrated sigh she stopped, gripping Ian's hips to her instead.

What I wouldn't give for a zipper. She thought, shuddering with desire in his embrace.

Ian was lost in the ecstasy of her kiss, the feel of her body pressed against his igniting a fire within him that he hadn't felt in weeks. His hands roamed over her body, desperate for any bit of her he could reach, his fingers gripping her hips, her waist, the nape of her neck, wanting to pull her even closer.

But as her hands fumbled at the fastenings of his pants, she broke away from the kiss, huffing a frustrated sigh.

His eyebrows lifted slightly at the sound. "Aye, it's a right pain in the arse sometimes.”

He chuckled, his breath still coming in rough gasps, and helped her with shaking hands, loosening the laces at the front of his breeches enough to free himself. He grunted as the cool air hit his heated skin, but any discomfort was quickly forgotten as her hand wrapped around him, sending sparks of pleasure through his entire body.

"Christ, lass…" he groaned, his hips automatically thrusting into her touch.

"No, just me." She teased, her tongue darted out to place a long wet swipe down the palm of her own hand before she returned to stroking him with it in steady, firm movements. The extra lubrication of her spit only helped as she gave a small flick of her wrist, her thumb swiping across the broad pink head of him. Without another word she pulled out of Ian's grasp and knelt down on the ground in front of him.

"Try and hold still, love." She murmured, face to face with his stiff length.

Ian's breath caught in his throat as he watched her kneel before him, her expression a mixture of mischief and desire. His body tensed in anticipation, the thought of her lips on him making his heart beat wildly in his chest.

He leaned back against the rough bark of a nearby tree, bracing himself for what was to come.

"Dammit, woman," he gritted out, his voice strained, "Ye're going to kill me.”

His words stoked the flames of desire in her. She clucked her tongue at him in a chiding tone, her voice sugary sweet and her warm breath fanned over the flushed sensitive skin of his cock. "No, baby…I'm going to make you feel so good."

Her hands rubbed up the thick muscled of his thighs, felt how they trembled a little with his self control, before she placed a tender kiss to the head of his member. Sara waited for that first sharp gasp from him before loosening her jaw and taking as much of Ian in her mouth as she could comfortable fit in one go. Her fingers flexed where they rested against the V of his hips. a silent reminder for him to try and stay still.

Ian's breath hitched as her lips met his skin, a low moan leaving him at the feel of her mouth against the most sensitive part of him. He wanted to move, to thrust forward and bury himself fully in her mouth, but he fought for control, his hands clenched at his sides.

"God, lass," he groaned, his voice thick with desire. "Feels so good… So damn good."

He couldn't help but move slightly, his hips shifting as he fought against the overwhelming sensation.

He was smooth and warm, and just a little bit salty as she worked her lips over him, first in slow teasing bobs. But then she felt his hips flex under her hands restlessly, could hear the note of desperation building in his voice. Sara twirled her tongue around the head of his length, testing to see what got the best reactions out of him. Her dark eyes staring up at Ian, watching the way his adam's apple moved with each rough gasp.

She gave a breathy little hum, the vibrations of her throat designed to drag even more pleasure from him. Sara was determined not to stop until Ian had become completely unraveled.

Ian's knuckles were white as his hands balled into fists at his sides, his body taut with the effort of holding back his own desires. The pleasure was overwhelming, every touch of her tongue and lips driving him further towards the brink of pleasure.

He could feel the control he had over himself slipping away, his hips bucking involuntarily as he tried to bury himself deeper into her mouth.

"God…damn, Sara… don't stop, lass," he grated out, his eyes fixed on hers, his gaze almost desperate.

She slid one of her hand over to intertwine with one of his, an attempt to ground Ian and give him back just a little bit of control while she prepared for what she had planned next. Breathing deeply through her nose, Sara hollowed out her cheeks around him and gave a deep, firm suck -- making sure to keep her throat relaxed as more and more of his control vanished in a puff of smoke. Her hand gripped his tightly, enjoying the feel of him coming undone all because of her.

Her hand grasped his, a lifeline in the storm of pleasure that was threatening to consume him. Ian's fingers tightened around hers, the feeling of her skin on his anchoring him, if only for a brief moment, to reality.

But then she suckled him deeper, her throat opening up to him, and his control shattered.

Ian's breath left him in a guttural moan, his hips jerking forward, pushing himself further into her mouth. "Sara… Christ, lass…”

The pleasure was nearly overwhelming, like a wave crashing over him. He could feel the heat coiling at the base of his spine, building with each movement of her tongue, each hum of her throat.

He looked down at her, his eyes dark and hazy, his breath coming in ragged gasps. "I canna hold back much longer," he gritted out, a note of warning in his voice.

Sara released him with a wet pop, looking up at Ian's lust blown eyes with a tender, loving expression. She licked her lips where some spit had collected at the corners of her mouth, her hand still working him as she took a moment to breathe and collect herself. The soft, affectionate face slowly turned into a playful smirk and she whispered.

"Then don't…come in my mouth."

And with that she was on him again with renewed vigor, sucking and working him with her hand on his base with each torturous bob of her head. She could feel his fingers tightening in her hair and it sent little shocks of desire from her scalp all the way to her toes. Sara gave one last, deep, hum and froze as he came undone-- swallowing every drop of his pleasure.

Ian's eyes widened as her words sank in, but there was no time for further thought as she descended on him once more. His breath left him in a strangled gasp as she worked him, her lips and tongue driving him to the very edge.

His fingers tangled in her hair, clutching at her as he surrendered to the pleasure that coursed through him. He felt the heat coiling tighter and tighter, the tension building inexorably until it reached its peak.

And then he shattered, his body arching as pleasure washed over him like a wave. He shuddered and shivered as she swallowed him down.

As the sensations slowly subsided, Ian collapsed back against the tree, his legs almost buckling beneath him. His chest rose and fell with ragged breaths, his heart thundering in his chest like a drum.

He looked down at her, still crouched in front of him, her mouth still pressed against him, and let out a soft, weak groan. "Christ, lass…where did ye learn to do that?" he asked, still a bit breathless.

Sara let out a breathy laugh, the image of him losing himself burned into her brain. She hoped she would never forget it, the way his eyes had closed and his mouth parted. The way his hips had desperately flexed against her hands when his control finally broke. She shifted where she was crouched in front of him, then carefully stood, very aware of the way her own lets felt a little wobbly.

Watching Ian come undone had been…intense. Her cheeks were flushed and eyes still dilated as she looked at his disheveled appearance. She had never seen anything so hot in her life.

"Just…natural talent." There was a raspy tone to her voice, both from lust and what had just taken place. She wiped her mouth against some of the fabric of her skirt before taking a couple deep, calming breaths. "Well, natural talent and a desire to show my husband how much I adore him."

Ian's chest still rose and fell heavily, his breathing slowly returning to normal, as he watched her rise. Her flushed cheeks and dilated eyes sent a shiver of desire through him, even though he was spent and sated.

He reached out, tucking a strand of her hair behind her ear, his fingers trailing down the side of her neck in a gentle caress. He chuckled weakly, still a bit shaken as he leaned back against the tree, his legs trembling slightly.

"Ye certainly showed me, lass." he said gruffly, his gaze roaming over her.

He pulled her close, gathering her into his arms and holding her against him. He buried his face into her hair, inhaling the familiar, comforting scent of her. He felt a pang of tenderness for this woman who had just reduced him to a quivering mess.

"Ye're a menace," he grumbled affectionately, his hand gently caressing her back. "A bloody menace.”

She leaned back and placed a short tender kiss to his lips. "And don't you forget it."

[iwritesmutnottragedy]

It had been almost a week since Sara and Ian's wedding. Her days were spent trying to find her place among the community in Fraser's Ridge, learning the different daily tasks that were expected of her to help maintain an 18th century household. All the while carefully avoiding Ian's cousin Brianna.

She had seen Sara's tattoos the day of the wedding and knew that there was more to her than met the eye. They needed to talk it out and have her explain everything to the curious, intelligent woman, but she was struggling to find the words. After nearly a year of keeping her secret she didn't know how to bring it up.

Though it turns out she didn't have to. One morning while carrying a fresh basket of laundry, Brianna pulled Sara aside so they could speak privately behind the house. "Alright, tell me-- you're not from this time, are you?"

Sara had balked and sputtered out a broken explanation, but Brianna cut her off quickly. "Tell me the truth, please."

She hesitated, stomach tightened into knots. "It's…complicated. but I'll tell you everything-- just promise me you won't tell Ian." Sara begged.

Brianna's words came out of nowhere, catching Sara off guard. But there was no point in denying it, Brianna already sensed something was off about her.

"What makes you think I'm not from this time?" she asked, even though knew the answer already.

Sara took in a deep controlled breath, and looked around to make sure that they were still alone. If she was going to be honest with brianna, she couldn't risk anyone else hearing what she had to say. She gripped the laundry basket tighter in front of her and the words began to spill out of her like a bag of cut sand.

" I was born in the United States of America in the year 1999. " she spoke slowly so that none of her words would be misunderstood. To the average person what she said would sound absolutely insane. But what she didn't know was that Brianna, her mother and her husband were all also from the future. Only, Brianna had been born in 1948, decades before Sara's time.

"I woke up in this time almost a year ago after having gone on a camping trip. Camping is - " she was about to explain when Brianna suddenly interrupted her.

Brianna's eyes widened slightly as she listened to Sara's words, but her surprise was mixed with a hint of understanding that only came from someone who knew the secrets of the stones.

She raised her hand, stopping Sara's explanation. "I know what camping is," she said, a small but understanding smile on her lips. "Please, continue.”

Sara froze in her explanation. Her eyes going comically large as her mind tried to understand this sudden turn of events. "You…you what? How?"

Brianna smiled gently at Sara's bewildered expression. She knew how confusing this all must be for her.

"I know all about the future," she said softly. "About America, and camping, and all the other modern things. I'm not from this time either… not originally." Her tone was gentle, patient even.

She stepped closer to Sara, putting a comforting hand on her arm. "I know all about the stones and what they can do," she continued. "I was brought here through them, as I imagine you were too.”

"What?" She felt like the breath was being sucked out of her lungs as she stared into Brianna's knowing brown eyes.

"You-- what about your mom? Is Ian from the future too?" Her mind raced and everything she thought she knew was suddenly pulled into question.

Brianna's nodded, understanding the confusion and surprise in Sara's voice.

"My mother, my husband and myself are all originally from the future too," she confirmed. "We all passed through the stones at different times. My fathers family is fromthis time…Ian doesn't know."

She waited a beat, giving Sara some time to let the information sink in. However she still had questions, most important of which;

"Why did you and Ian get married? Considering this revelation I'm guessing it wasn't exactly a love match." A little bit of icy suspicion slipped into Brianna's tone.

Despite Sara's best attempts to explain the situation and reason behind her decision to marry Ian, Brianna's tone made her feel like a naughty child caught with her hand in the cookie jar.

"I understand," she said, her voice firm. "But we should talk."

She took Sara's by the arm, her grip firm but not unkind. "Come. Let's go somewhere we can speak."

With that, Brianna led Sara further away from the house, towards a secluded spot in the surrounding woods.

They walked in silence for a few minutes, the only sounds coming was from the rustling of leaves beneath their feet.

Finally, Brianna stopped at a small clearing in the woods. The area was secluded, and the only company was a small stream that ran nearby.

Brianna gestured for Sara to sit on a nearby log. "I think we can talk freely here.”

Sara sat down heavily with a shaky side and clasped her hands tightly in front of herself between her knees. Her eyes were large and lost as she looked up at Brianna. Taking one more deep breath to collect yourself, she started to recount the events of what had happened to her the past year. Of how she had been camping at a music festival in New York and gone for a afternoon hike and then the next thing she knew some buzzing stones had hurdled her centuries into the past.

It had taken some time to find her bearings and once she had, Sara had decided to make her way back to the most familiar area she had knowledge of in this time- North carolina. Brownsville had been just establishing itself and the residents didn't ask her too many questions when all she offered them was a pleasant smile and a cold drink. Only when her employer decided to try and sell her off to one of the more wealthy patrons did she finally risked breaking her cover to ask you for his help and protection.

"So now I'm married to a wonderful man who has no idea I'm lying about who I a-am." Her voice wobbled on the last word and tears threatened to break out of the corners of her eyes.

Brianna listened to Sara's story intently, the pieces of the puzzle slowly falling into place as she heard the tale of her arrival in this new time.

As Sara told of her marriage to Ian, Brianna's heart clenched in sympathy. It was clear that she truly cared for him, but her deception weighed heavy on her shoulders.

Brianna sighed quietly, the sound barely heard over the rush of the nearby stream.

"And tell me, Sara," Brianna asked, her voice gentle. "Why haven't you told Ian the truth yet?”

"How can I?" She knew the question was a reasonable one but couldn't help but feel like she was being tested. If Ian's own family hadn't told him that they were from another time, how could Brianna expect her to? She shook her head and denial and hugged her arms tighter around herself, doing everything in her power to stop herself from rocking and attempt to self soothe the nerves overwhelming her.

"Why haven't you told him?" She countered.

Brianna took a moment to think before answering. "That… is a complicated question," she said slowly, her tone carefully measured. "But in short, it's not my secret to tell."

She moved to sit down beside Sara, her presence a calming one, despite the heaviness of the conversation.

"And now that you know, it's not just your secret either." She gave Sara a knowing look that sent in icy chill down her spine.

"I know how hard it is to keep such a secret," Brianna continued, her tone softer now. "To have to lie to those we care about, especially about something so big."

She reached out and placed a hand on Sara's shoulder, giving it a gentle squeeze. "But you can't tell him about this. I don't know why my father never told him but I know has to be a good reason.”

"You…you can't be serious." But even as she said the words she knew Brianna was. "How am I going to hide it? We're married!"

As Sara protests, Brianna's eyes flicker with a mixture of understanding and a firm determination.

"I am serious," she says, her voice steady. "And yes, it's going to be difficult. But you've managed so far, haven't you?"

She paused, her gaze turning thoughtful. "Perhaps you need a cover story. A way to explain certain things you may do or say that aren't exactly 'conventional' for a woman in 18th century.”

It could work…maybe. It had been her mode of operandi so far but something about lying to end indefinitely felt wrong. It made her stomach churn and her whole body just feel.. icky. But Brianna's expression never wavered and she knew that if she were to expose them that it would be his entire family against her. Sarah's shoulders slumped in a mixture of defeat and resigned acceptance.

" And.. I guess I also just have to never let him see me naked. I don't think there's any cover story in the world that will explain a watercolor photo realistic tattoo of a roaring jaguar on my hip in the year 1770. “

"No, probably not," she agreed, a touch of wry humor in her voice. "A jaguar tattoo would definitely raise some eyebrows."

She studied Sara's face for a moment, taking in her expression of defeat and resignation. It was clear the weight of the secret was weighing heavily on her.

"I know it's hard," she said softly, her tone turning gentle again. "And it's not fair, to you or to Ian. But it's the situation we're in."

She offered her a small, but sympathetic smile. "You're just going to have to learn to hide things and make excuses. And hope that Ian never finds out about this.”

Just hoping for the best certainly wasn't her strong suit but she nodded, agreeing with her new relatives words. It was nice to know that she wasn't alone and she could always go to Brianna or her mother to speak about their predicament or if she was particularly missing her own time. But knowing that the one person that she really wanted to share everything with, she was forbidden from telling the secret - felt like a knife to her heart.

They parted ways on good terms and she took the laundry to be hung up before returning home. Ian's had been spent between his usual hunting and helping around the ridge, and meetings with his uncle looking for the best plot of land to begin building them a house. She would often be waiting for him when he got home, and their nights had been spent for they're getting to know each other in all the best ways.

But that evening when Ian got home Sara was busy doing anything in order to avoid looking his way. Every time she did a wave of guilt threatened to overtake her and she wanted to run. Back in her own time that would have even been an option, just walking out the door and taking a walk for miles until she felt like she could breathe again. But here all she could do was straighten and tidy the place until there was nothing left but moving small things, never content with how it looked.

" Maybe we should move the bed closer to the window? That way you won't ever accidentally sleep in too late when you have to get up early to hunt. " she suggested, fully succumbing to the manic energy that buzzed inside of her. It was late, there was no reason to move furniture in their room but she was still looking for anything to do that would distract herself from her circling thoughts.

Ian raised an eyebrow at the suggestion, a mix of perplexion and concern in his expressive eyes. He had returned home that evening to find Sara in a state of hyper energy, fidgeting with every little object she could find.

As she suggested the idea of moving the bed, he couldn't help but frown.

"Move the bed?" he repeated, his tone slightly bemused. "It's late, why in the world would we be moving furniture at this time of night?”

He walked over to her, his steps steady. His eyes searched her face, looking for the reason behind her agitated state. He could feel the nervous energy radiating off her in waves, and it worried him.

"Sara…" he said slowly, reaching out to take her hand in his. "Is everything okay? You seem, ah, rather on edge tonight.”

The way he was looking at her with such tender concern while she was a terrible liar, made her feel physically ill. She'd known she couldn't tell Ian before, but now that it was an order only intensified her need to come clean. But Brianna's words from earlier kept replaying in her head. "I accidentally tore a hole in one of your shirts while doing the laundry today."

It wasn't the confession she needed but it was true none the less. "And I'm only just getting the hang of sewing. I know you could fix it better than I could I'm..I'm.." Her voice got tighter and smaller like a dying flame. "I'm a terrible wife."

Ian let a small huff of laughter at her words, shaking his head softly. "You're not a terrible wife," he said, his tone reassuring. "You just… have a lot to learn."

He pulled her close, his arm wrapping around her shoulders in a comforting gesture.

"And I don't expect you to be a perfect housewife right away," he continued. "We both knew you weren't experienced in these kinds of things, but that's okay."

He squeezed her shoulders gently. "We'll work on it together. One step at a time.”

His eyes widened at her question, a mixture of surprise and confusion on his face.

"You want to go hunting?" he asked, his tone betraying his surprise. "But… that's a man's job, not a woman's. Women stay at home, take care of the housework, tend to children when there are any. “

A dangerous fire ignited in her gaze and she took a step out of his grasp. "Excuse me? Do you think I can't do it?"

She had been hunting before as a teenager but never actually shot anything other than a paper target. Still, she figured that made her more capable than most women. "Brianna hunts."

Ian's initial surprise turned into a slight frown at her reaction. He folded his arms across his chest, a hint of defensiveness in his stance.

"Brianna is exceptional," he said, his tone a little firm. "Hunting isn't a game, Sara. It's dangerous. Women like you should stay home and leave hunting to men.”

"Women like…me." She repeated, crossing her arms over her chest. She knew she was struggling to learn the basics of life on the Ridge but she didn't think Ian had such little faith in her. A part of her clung to the argument, needing any way to take out the turmoil inside.

"Just, a weak little woman who can't take care of herself. Got it." The words were a bitter callback to their original arrangement. It was a low blow and she felt guilty the moment she said it but her back remained straight and jaw set in obvious anger.

Ian's eyes narrowed as she repeated his words back to him, her bitter tone cutting deeply. His jaw tightened, and for a moment he was silent, his gaze boring into her with a mixture of hurt and anger.

He unfolded his arms and stepped closer to her, his voice low and tense. "That's not what I meant, and you know it," he snapped. "But you are not a hunter, Sara. You're not trained for it, you don't-"

He let out a sharp sigh, running a hand through his red hair in frustration.

"You're not meant to be out in the wilderness hunting," he continued, his tone a touch gentler. "You're a woman, a wife. Your place is here, with me, not out there, risking your life.”

She could understand his perspective, but she didn't like it. And she wasn't willing to bend to that way of thinking. She had made so many compromises since arriving in this time and to be forced into a role she didn't want in her marriage was something that she couldn't take. She missed when she could dream about working for herself, and not being completely dependent on Ian and just waiting for him to come home. She had heard the term kept woman before but she didn't understand it would make her feel like such a.. pet.

"But what if that's not what I want?" she asked and went over to sit on the bed with her arms still crossed. Her dark eyes looked up at him, completely guarded.

"What if I wanted to go back to work? What if I wanted things between us to be more.. equal? " she asked, knowing that even as progressive as Ian was that would be a step too far giving her history of being abused by employers.

Ian's expression hardened at her words, his eyes fixed on her with a mixture of bewilderment and stubborn resignation. "Work?" he echoed, his tone a mix of skepticism and a hint of frustration.

"Sara, women don't work, especially not women like you," he said flatly. "Women like you marry, they bear children, they take care of the home. That's your place. You're my wife, not a worker.”

He began to pace the room, his movements restless and fraught with tension. "Besides, you don't have any skills to work," he continued. "You can't read or write, you're not trained in any trades. What kind of work could you possibly do in the first place?”

She itched to correct him but as far as he knew, all of that was true. What use would a tavern wench have for reading and writing? Her knowledge of those things would just make her even more of an oddity in this time and have her scrambling for explanations on how she learned such things.

Her shoulders slumped as she realized he was right. She didn't have any skills that transferred over to this time, except maybe being able to draw. But a woman and an artist? That wasn't a profession, that was a hobby.

Still, she cloned the anger. Because if she didn't feel that she would be forced to feel the endless amount of guilt that threatened to swallow her whole." So.. you want me to just stay home take care of the house, have babies, that's it?”

"Yes," he said bluntly, his pacing coming to a stop as he turned to look at her, his expression firm.

"That's exactly what I want. You're my wife, and that means you'll take care of our home, our children, and me. It's your job to take care of domestic matters, that's the way it's always been, and that's the way it will stay.”

"That's the way it will stay," She mimicked childishly. "I don't think so. You don't control me, Ian Fraser Murray."

Ian's eyes narrowed at her childish mimicking, his patience clearly wearing thin. He stopped his pacing and stood before her, his expression hardening.

"You're my wife," he repeated, his tone a mix of frustrated and stern. "And that means I do, in fact, control you. You're my responsibility, and I will decide what's best for you. And what's best is that you stay home, take care of the household, and do as I say. “

Sara stared at him with her mouth agape. She couldn't believe he was saying this. Stung, she whispered; "You really feel that way?"

But her anger was not a thing to be trifled with and an angry sneer twisted her features. She seemed to almost curl in on herself where she sat on the bed, a hot little ball of rage. "Well fuck that."

"And what are you going to do about it?" he countered, his own anger starting to rise to match hers. His hands were clenched into fists at his sides, his shoulders tense with the effort of holding back his temper.

"You're my wife," he repeated again, his voice a growl. "You are mine. You will do as I say, whether you like it or not.”

"The hell I will!" Her voice was a hiss of scalding fury. Sara's fists clenched at her sides and she wanted to scream I'm frustration. "I'm mine and I'll do whatever the fuck I want. If you don't like that we can end this shit right now and go back to our original arrangement."

A wife in name only.

She didn't mean to say the words but as soon as she had there was no taking them back. Her heart broke and cried out for her to stop, to do anything to fix this. But the mixture of pride and Brianna's words from earlier won out. Her dark brown eyes stared at Ian with defiance, daring him to either match her fury or bend to it.

The mention of their original arrangement hit Ian like a punch to the gut, and his eyes widened in disbelief. His heart clenched at her words, and a thousand emotions roiled through him – anger, hurt, disbelief.

For a moment, he simply stared at her, his jaw tight, his body taut with a mixture of emotions. Then, very slowly, he spoke.

"Is that what you want?"

His voice was low, his tone almost dangerous.

No! Her mind screamed but Sara just stood silently for a minute, seething that this was where the night had ended up. Her whole body felt shaky, her nerves jumping under her skin like a live wire.

"Maybe that's for the best. I obviously can't give you what you want."

Ian's eyes darkened further at her words, his jaw clenching tighter. The tension in the room was palpable, the air heavy with a mix of anger and something that was almost like grief.

He stepped forward, stopping right in front of her, his body only inches away. His voice was a harsh whisper, almost a challenge.

"And what do you think I want, Sara?”

Her heart heart thudded painfully in her chest. She knew this was a defining moment and she could choose to let him in…or push him away for good. Her voice shook but her expression was pure steel. The secret she kept was like an evil whisper in her mind. Hurt him. It said. Hurt him now she will not feel it later.

"I think…" She took a deep breath, preparing herself for the impact her words would have. "I think you miss Emily, and I'll always be a shitty second best."

Ian's breath hitched in his throat at her words, his eyes widening imperceptibly in shock. The mention of Emily's name cut through him like a knife, reopening old wounds that had never really healed.

"Don't," he growled, his voice thick with an anger and pain. "Don't say that. Emily has nothing to do with this.”

His hands were still clenched into fists at his sides, his body tight with the effort of keeping his emotions under control. His gaze was fixed on her once more, his eyes blazing with a mix of anger and hurt.

"This is about us," he said, his tone firm but quieter now. "This is about you not wanting to be my wife, not accepting your place as such. This has nothing to do with Emily.”

"I think it does. I think you want what you had and I'll never be that." Her face held a sort of broken resignation to it. As if she were just now seeing the truth. "I'll never be enough, Ian."

Ian's expression darkened further at her continued insistence on bringing Emily into this. His eyes were slits, his jaw tight with a mixture of anger and anguish.

"You have no right," he said, his voice a guttural growl. "To use Emily as some kind of weapon against me. You will not take her memory and twist it to your purposes."

He stepped closer until they were almost chest to chest, his gaze fixed on hers, his voice low and intense. "If you wish for us to return to how things were, you only needed to say so.”

The anger and pain in his expression were plain to see, but his offer stood nevertheless. He stood so close to her now that their bodies almost touched, his hands still clenched at his sides, his body tense with the effort to keep from either shaking her or pulling her into his arms.

"I think…that's best." She whispered, the words swallowed up in the tension between them. Her heart ached and tears burned in her eyes but there was no going back. There was no way out.

"I'll…I'll sleep in the arm chair tonight. You were hunting all day…you should take the bed."

Ian's jaw clenched tighter as she suggested she'd sleep in the chair. The thought of watching her sleep on the chair while he lay on the bed, unable to touch her, was almost too much to bear.

"You will not sleep in the chair," he said, his tone firm. "You are my wife. You will sleep in our bed. With me.”

She wanted to argue more but Sara was suddenly just so tired. Her chest ached from the pain their fighting had caused and she had tears burning behind her eyes. Though they only provided fuel for the glare she leveled in Ian's direction. With a huff she practically stomped over to the bed and undid the ties of her dress with shaky hands.

Once it had dropped to the floor in a pile she kicked it away and climbed into bed, never once looking in Ian's direction. She felt like if she saw the hurt and anger still on his face her resolve would shatter. Her back stayed turned to him as she heard him also undressed and felt the mattress dip as he climbed into bed.

With one last shaky breath and a silent tear running down her cheek, Sara whispered bitterly. "Goodnight, husband.”

Ian watched her, his eyes following her movements as she prepared for bed, her anger and frustration clear in every gesture. He felt the familiar stab of hurt in his chest at the sight of her turned away from him.

His own movements were slow and deliberate as he undressed, his gaze occasionally flickering to her still form on the bed. He could see the tension in her body, could almost feel the anger and sadness radiating from her.

When he got into bed, he left enough space between them, so they weren't touching. He laid on his back for several minutes, staring up at the dark ceiling before forcing himself to drift to sleep.

[iwritesmutnottragedy]

The days after the engagement had been a whirlwind of activity and planning. While it was flattering that Ian's aunt had graciously offered to fund the event, the planning process had become increasingly overwhelming. Sara found herself struggling to find moments of quiet and solitude amidst the whirlwind of preparations. The thought of the entire community being present, all eyes on her, filled her with a sense of anxiety and discomfort.

On the day of the wedding, Sara awoke before the first light of dawn, her mind racing. She longed for a brief moment of reflection before the chaos of the day began. With that in mind, before she needed to get ready for the big event -- she sought out the secluded spot in the woods where she and Ian had shared a tender moment, the place where their connection had begun to feel real.

To her surprise, he was already there, waiting for her in the quiet seclusion of the forest.

Ian had woken up before dawn, his mind restless and his heart heavy. He hadn't slept much the night before, his mind racing with thoughts of the day ahead - the wedding, the guests, the expectations. He had wandered out into the forest, seeking solace in the quiet of the morning.

And that's where he was when he heard the soft sound of footsteps. He turned to see Sara approaching, her face pale in the early morning light.

"Sara," he murmured, his voice rough with sleep and…something more.

As she drew closer he could see the hint of fear and anxiety in her eyes, and he felt a pang of sympathy. He knew that this day was just as much of a trial for her as it was for him.

He held out his hand to her, silently inviting her to come and sit with him by the tree.

A wave of relief washed over her and she easily came to his side, carefully lowering herself onto a patch of soft moss that spread up the base of the tree. Her fingers brushed against it, enjoying the soft feel and allowed Ian's presence and the quiet of nature calm a little bit of the restless nerves her gut. "I didn't expect to see you out here."

Her eyes looked over Ian, still in his long loose night shirt and a pair of worn leather trousers. She could hardly imagine what he would look like later that day, dressed in his full Scottish regalia and adorned with the silver and beaded accessories he still treasured from his time with the Mohawk. "But…I'm glad. I wanted to see you.”

Ian watched as Sara sat down next to him, her fingers brushing against the soft moss. He could see the relief in her expression, and he knew that she needed a moment of peace as much as he did.

He ran a hand through his tousled hair, still mussed from sleep. "I woke up early," he said with a small shrug. "Couldna go back to sleep."

His gaze flicked over her, taking in her dishevelled appearance and the anxiety in her eyes. "And I'm glad to see ye too, mo ghràidh.”

Her head tilted to the side curiously and she looked up at him, taking in the details of his face and appreciating the way the small dot tattoos that made a trail across his cheeks and over the bridge of his nose. She briefly thought of her own tattoos, always hidden under multiple layers of clothes. She didn't know how she would keep him from seeing them once they lived together-- she only hoped he wouldn't find them too disturbing. A woman with tattoos. "You said that before, what does it mean?"

She made a mental not to try and start learning at least some of the other languages he spoke, even if it was only a phrase or two. "Mo ghràidh." Her mouth struggled around the words, almost butchering their pronunciation but not quite.

Ian smiled at the attempt at pronunciation, her mispronunciation both endearing and adorable to him. He took her hand in his, gently running his thumb over her knuckles. "It means, 'my dear,'" he replied, his voice soft. "Or…my love."

He studied her face for a moment, taking in the way her hair fell in loose waves around her face, the flecks of gold in her eyes. He wanted to tell her how beautiful she was, how much he had come to love her. But the words stuck in his throat, too full of emotion to be spoken aloud.

He was suddenly aware of how close they were sitting, how quiet it was around them. The only sounds were the birds in the trees and the occasional rustling of leaves. And her breathing, slow and steady next to him.

A shiver ran down his spine and he found himself leaning closer to her, unable to resist the pull of her presence. "We'll be married this afternoon," he said quietly, his voice almost a whisper.

"Mrs. Sara Murray. I…like how that sounds" She mused, even though it made her sound a little bit matronly. The endearment had warmed her and filled her with excitement for later. Just seeing him put the event into more perspective -- so what if there would be countless eyes on her all day? As long as she got to finally return to Ian's room so they could be together? She didn't care if she had to stand in front of the whole state of North Carolina.

"I should be getting back soon," She sighed regretfully and leaned her head against his shoulder for only a moment. A nudge of affection before the chaos of the day could begin to unfold. "I can't very well show up to the altar looking like this."

Ian relished the feeling of her head on his shoulder, but he knew she was right. They would both have to get cleaned up and ready for the day's events, and they only had so much time until the ceremony.

"Aye," he admitted, reluctantly. "But I'm no' looking forward to spending the whole day without ye."

He turned his head to look at her, his eyes soft and full of affection. "I'll see ye soon, mo ghràidh," he said, his voice low and rough.

After her early morning talk with Ian, Sara felt bolstered and filled with determination to face the day. When it came time to get dressed for the ceremony, she turned to Ian's cousin Brianna for help. Unlike most, Brianna was practical and not overly superstitious, so Sara felt comfortable revealing her tattoos to her.

Brianna's eyes widened in surprise as she caught sight of the tattoos, realising that Sara was from the future. Fearful and confused of how Brianna could know, Sara desperately asked Brianna to keep the secret between the two of them until the wedding was over. Brianna agreed, and with a nod, set about helping make Sara look perfect.

Now standing at the altar, dressed in a handmade white wedding gown, Sara felt her hands shake as Ian's uncle led her forward. Her large brown eyes met Ian's across the aisle as he took her hands in his. With a firm, yet tender touch, Ian slid the ring onto her finger as she spoke her vows, her words steady despite her nerves. Despite the fact that to him this marriage was still partly a farce. Simple solution to her problems. But now, seeing him- she knew that it was always something more.

"I do," she repeated firmly, her voice strong and sure.

Ian felt a surge of emotion as he heard Sara's voice speaking her vows. His eyes met hers as he slid the ring onto her finger, and he could see the fear and anxiety that was still buried beneath her nervous exterior.

But then she spoke those two simple words, her voice strong and unwavering, and he knew that she meant them.

He squeezed her hands in his, feeling the weight of her trust and her love in his grasp. "I do," he repeated firmly, wanting her to know that he was just as sure.

The ceremony continued, with the priest speaking words and blessings he barely heard. He was hyper-aware of Sara standing next to him, her hands in his, her body trembling almost imperceptibly.

Finally, the priest spoke the words that made Ian's heart leap. "I now pronounce you husband and wife. You may kiss the bride.”

Ian turned to face Sara, taking in the sight of her in her white wedding gown, her face flushed with emotion. He didn't care that they were in front of countless people, that everyone was watching.

He took her face in his hands, his touch gentle but firm, and then he kissed her. Her lips were soft and warm underneath his, their touch tender and loving. He could feel the pounding of her heart against his chest, the heat of her body against his. It felt like homecoming.

As they broke apart, the crowd erupted into applause, and Ian couldn't help but beam at the people around them. But then his gaze went back to Sara, his new bride. He pulled her tight against him, wrapping his arms around her like he would never let her go.

The ceremony complete, Sara felt a whirlwind of emotions coursing through her. One moment she would be lost in Ian's eyes, completely at peace, the next she would catch the gaze of his cousin or aunt across the room, sending a chill down her spine. They knew her secret, and she couldn't keep it from him for much longer. As guests mingled and drinks were passed around, Sara found herself trying to drown her fears, each glass doing little to soothe her anxiety.

By the time the night wound down and guests began to leave, Sara found herself giggling and carefree, a few too many drinks in. Ian swooped her up into his arms and carried her away towards his room in the main house. She could feel her heart fluttering at the thought of being so close to him, but there was still a nagging worry in the back of her mind. She would be staying with him and his family, for now, until they built a home of their own.

As they entered the room and the door closed behind them, Sara's heart pounded even louder in her chest. The silence between them was thick with anticipation and possibility. Ian gently set her down, his eyes locking with hers in a gaze that held so many unsaid things.

Ian watched as Sara's eyes met his, her face flushed with alcohol and excitement. He could see the uncertainty and fear still lingering there, beneath her carefree demeanor.

He gently set her down on the bed, his touch soft and careful. He knew that there was so much they needed to talk about, so many things left unspoken between them. But he also knew that the moment was not right.

So instead, he sat down next to her on the bed, his hand reaching out to touch her face. He ran his thumb across her cheek, feeling the smoothness of her skin.

Sara leaned into Ian's touch, still reeling a little bit from the events of the day but completely and utterly content to finally be alone with him. She let out a deep sigh and looked up at him with wide eyes and then pulled back as if a thought suddenly occurred to her.

"I know we agreed to a marriage only in name," she said and crossed her legs on the bed in front of her in a very young lady like position. "But you said after the wedding maybe we could talk about that? Is that still something you would be open to?”

Ian nodded, his hand still gently caressing her face.

"Aye, lass," he replied. "I meant what I said. I want to talk to ye about it."

He took a deep breath, looking at her intently.

"But no' tonight. Tonight, all I want to do is enjoy being married to ye. And ye're too drunk to be having any serious discussions, anyway.”

She pulled back from him with a pout, as if someone had taken dessert away from her. "I'm not. “

Ian chuckled, raising an eyebrow at her petulant expression.

"Ye are," he said, matter-of-factly. "Your face is redder than my hair and ye can hardly sit upright.”

What he said was true. The moment she pulled away she wobbled a little bit on the bed and almost toppled to the side. She hadn't expected the drinks to be that strong and so many people had been endlessly excited to hand them to her. The rational part of her mind, the much quieter part at the moment, told her that he was probably right and she should just enjoy her night with him and go to bed. They could talk in the morning.

But the more playful, sinful part of her couldn't help but see a challenge. They were married now. And if he kissed her no one could say anything about it. Sara grinned and nodded pretending to be a perfectly obedient girl and stood up off the bed. One of her hands shot out to grip the edge of the mattress and catch her balance before she stood her straight height and looked over at Ian with half lidded eyes.

" Well, if we're going to enjoy the night together, you going to have to at least help me get out of this dress. “

Ian's eyes darkened as he watched her stand, leaning against the bed for support. The way she looked at him, the playful gleam in her eyes…he knew exactly what she was up to.

He stood up too, his body towering above hers.

"Is that so?" he said, his voice low and rough. "Ye think ye're in a state to be demanding anything of me, wife?”

But even as he spoke the words, his hands were moving to the laces of her wedding gown, starting to undo the knots that held it together.

"I suppose I'll just have to take responsibility for ye," he continued, his fingers moving deftly. "Seeing as how ye're too foxed to even get yerself out of this dress.”

She let out a peel of giggles but managed to stand still enough for him to undo the laces, taking in a deep breath as the corset and fine white fabric fell away and she was left and only her long chemise night dress. Once it had pulled in a pile around her feet she stepped away and wrapped her arms around Ian's neck to pull him against her. He was considerably taller than her and she had to lean up to look at his face with a dopey smile.

" Such a good husband." She praised and her fingers played with the ends of his braids.

"Aye," Ian responded smugly, wrapping his arms around her waist and pulling her tight against his body, the fabric of her chemise feeling impossibly soft beneath his touch.

He relished the feel of her in his arms, the way her curves pressed against him. Every instinct in him was telling him to take her, claim her as his own now that they were married.

But he was a gentleman, and she was drunk. He could never forgive himself if he took advantage of her state like that.

" What should we do with our time then?" She wondered at him. It seemed that Ian was determined to be a gentleman despite her best efforts and even though she knew she could probably break his resolve - she respected him too much to keep trying. At least this would give them a little bit more time to get to know each other without the prying eyes of the Ridge.

"Should we stay up all night whispering secrets to each other?" It sounded more like a slumber party than a honeymoon but if that was all she could get, she would take it.

Ian chuckled at her suggestion. "Whispering secrets all night, hm?"

His hand moved up her side, skimming over the soft fabric of her chemise.

"As pleasant as that sounds, I think ye need to get some rest."

He knew that he was treading dangerous ground, his body and mind warring with each other. It would be so easy to push her backwards onto the bed and take her now. But he would not dishonor her like that. Not on their wedding night.

A shiver ran up her spine at the soft touch but for once, she listened to him. Sara turned around and climbed into the bed pulling back the covers so that there was enough room for them both to slip beneath them as she should meet over to one side. When Ian didn't immediately follow her she looked up at him with a confused expression and tilted her head to the side similar to the way his dog Rolo would when confused.

"What about you? Aren't you going to lay down?”

Ian bit back a groan at the innocently seductive look on her face. She was going to be the death of him, he was sure of it.

"Aye, I am," he responded gruffly, moving to sit on the other side of the bed. "But I'll be sleeping on top of the covers, wife."

He reached over and pulled the blankets up over her body, leaving himself exposed to the cool night air.

"Well that's just silly, " she shot back around a big yawn. If she couldn't kiss him, touch him, be with him - at least she wanted to be able to feel him close to her and not separated by a thick downy blanket. Sara turned on her side to face him after he had pulled the covers over her and propped her head up on one elbow so she could look at him with complete bewilderment.

"I can assure you I can take no for an answer, Mr. Murray. " she teased and reached out so she could hold his hand. Just that small contact sent a warm fuzzy feeling spreading from her stomach out to the tips of her fingers.

Ian grumbled, feeling his resistance wavering. She looked so small and vulnerable, propped up on one elbow, her fingers wrapped around his hand.

He wanted to be strong, to resist her, to be the responsible one. But when she looked at him like that, with those innocent, drunken eyes, it was hard to deny her anything.

"Yer impossible, ye know that?" he growled, shifting to lay down on top of the covers next to her.

Sara sighed and finally laid down now that he had come closer to her. She didn't release his hand and continued to enjoy the feeling of his calloused fingers gently moving against her palm. Her feet snaked through the covers until she felt him on the other side and pressed her body closer to his. "I've been called that before. "

She brought their clasped hands up to rest on his chest, and made sure not to tempt him any further. The last thing she wanted was him to be angry at her in the morning. "I was being serious though. We can just talk if you would prefer.”

Ian lay still, watching as she snuggled up against him with a sigh. He could feel the heat of her body, even through the covers that separated them. It took every ounce of willpower he had not to pull her closer, to bury his face in her hair and explore every inch of her skin.

But instead, he took a deep, steadying breath and nodded.

"Just talk, then," he replied. "What do ye want to talk about, lass?”

She was quiet for a few minutes as she thought about what to ask him. Try as she might her mind couldn't leave the topic that they were so desperately trying to avoid. Her expression turned serious as she looked over at him and Sara squeezed his hand once before saying, "I do have a question, and I really hope you won't take any kind of offense. And know - I hold no kind of judgments on your answer. I only want the truth."

Her voice got quieter as she continued to speak until by the time she asked her question it was barely above a whisper. "Have you, um, have you been with many women before?”

Ian felt a pang of surprise at her question, followed by a wave of mixed emotions.

He hadn't expected her to ask him something so personal, especially not on their wedding night. But part of him was also curious about her motives, why she would want to know that kind of thing.

He swallowed, feeling a lump in his throat, before he answered. "A few," he said quietly. "No' so many I can't count them on one hand, but enough.”

If she was upset, she didn't show it. Instead if anything she looked.. interested. Her expression turned contemplative as she mulled over his answer before nodding and acceptance. Didn't bother her that he had been with other women, the bigger scandal was probably that she had been with other men. And women. She still wasn't sure whether or not she should share that with him just yet.

"That doesn't surprise me. You're a very handsome guy." Her tone was reasonable and she reached her free hand up to brush some of her hair back and away from her neck.

" Were any of those relationships serious? " he had always been rather quiet about his past when it came to his time with the Mohawk and she couldn't help but be curious if he had left someone behind.

Ian couldn't help the flush that spread across his face at her compliment. He'd had his fair share of flirtations and admirers over the years, but hearing her say that he was handsome sent a jolt of pleasure through him.

When she asked about his past relationships, he hesitated, his mind drifting back to his time with the Mohawk and Emily. He wasn't sure how much he was ready to share with her, or if he even should.

"Aye," he said finally, his voice quiet. "There was someone, once. Someone special.”

He hadn't meant to acknowledge it or share it, but the words had slipped out of his mouth before he could stop them. He felt vulnerability, mixed with shame. He hadn't spoken about Emily to anyone in many years.

"Her name was Emily, at least that's what I called her." he said, still avoiding looking at her. "She was a Mohawk, and she… she meant a lot to me. She was my wife."

He stared at the ceiling as he spoke. "No a legal marriage, ye ken. But…she was my wife all the same."

He was quiet for a moment after that, lost in the memories that the mention of her name had brought back. He could still see Emily's face, her smile, the way her eyes had lit up when she laughed. He could still remember how it had felt to hold her in his arms, to feel her soft skin beneath his touch.

But there was pain there too, the heartbreak of losing her, of losing his daughter. He cleared his throat, trying to push those thoughts aside.

"But..it wasna meant to be. " He said, his voice thick with emotion.

He could feel the tears pricking at the backs of his eyes, but he forced them back. He didn't want to break down crying in front of Sara, not on their wedding night.

But it was hard, thinking about Emily and all the memories he had shared with her. He had loved her. Truly loved her. And losing her had been one of the most painful experiences of his life.

He took a shaky breath, trying to steady himself.

"She… she was everything to me," he said, his voice breaking just a little.

"Oh, baby--" Sara cupped the side of Ian's face and pulled him into a tight embrace. She had been through bad breakups before but nothing like this. When she'd asked him about past lovers she'd been expecting a few flings in a tavern, maybe even a brothel-- not an entire wife.

She might have gotten jealous if not for the obvious distress that the memories of her brought up in her husband. Hers. "I'm sorry, that sounds horrible."

Ian couldn't help but sink into Sara's embrace, his arms wrapping around her in return as he buried his face in the crook of her neck.

He could feel the comfort and warmth from her body, the softness of her hair against his cheek. It was like a balm to his wounded heart.

"It was," he admitted, his voice muffled against her skin. "It still is. I loved her so much, and losing her nearly killed me.”

She was quiet as she let him process his emotions. Sara knew that not talking about these kind of things just tended to eat away at a person and it broke her heart that Ian had been through something like that. Her hand gently stroked the back of his head until he had settled and the night silently passed between them.

Finally, she spoke-- "Since we're being honest," Sara looked at the ceiling, determined not to show any emotion. She knew most women in this time were expected to keep their virtue up until their wedding night. But she had lived her life to the standards of the 21st century up until a year ago.

"I'm not a virgin either…I hope you're not angry."

Ian pulled back from her embrace, surprised yet not surprised by her confession. He knew that Sara was no delicate flower, no fragile damsel in distress. She was strong and independent, with a history and baggage of her own. He wasn't expecting her to be a virgin, and the thought didn't bother him as much as he might have thought.

"No, lass," he said, cupping her cheek in his hand. "I ain't angry. I don't mind. I just… I didn't expect it, that's all.”

He pulled her closer to him, resting his chin on her forehead. He could feel the warmth of her breath against his chest, the softness of her hair brushing against his skin.

He didn't know how to feel about her confession. He couldn't deny that a part of him felt a pang of jealousy, knowing that she had been with other men before him. But he also knew that it didn't matter. She was his wife now, and he would love and cherish her no matter what her past was.

"You're mine now," he whispered, his voice rough and possessive.

She shivered at the feeling of his stubble against her forehead and resisted the urge to nuzzle against his neck. He always surprised her at every turn. Accepting things about her that she expected him to question. Sure, maybe he did end up having some questions - but he never judged her for her answers. The acceptance is so refreshing that she practically melted against him.

"Are you sure you don't want to.. really make me yours?" She asked, one last try before she turned in for the night and settled for just sleeping in his arms.

Ian could feel the heat rising in his chest at her words, his body reacting to the sound of her voice, the feel of her body pressed against his. He wanted her. More than he had ever wanted anything in his life.

But he also knew that he had promised himself that he would be strong. That he would resist her and keep his distance. She didn't know it, but she was testing his self-control to its breaking point.

"You're tempting me, lass," he growled, his voice low and strained.

Sara sighed and tightened her arms around his chest. She knew that his next steps were probably going to be to put distance between them and that was the last thing that she wanted. She was enjoying the feeling of his long warm body pressed up against hers. The way that her legs tried to slot in between his even through the blanket that separated them. She wondered what he would feel like on top of her, pressing her down into the bed. And the thought was just too delicious to ignore.

"Is that really so bad?" She asked and placed a soft Palm against the stubble of his cheek. Her thumb gently brushed over one of the pinpoint tattoos that dotted the bridge of his nose.

"I promise that I won't have any regrets in the morning but if you think that you will, then I promise I'll stop tempting you.”

Ian was fighting a losing battle. Every word she spoke, every touch of her hand was eroding his resolve. He could feel his body responding to her, the heat in his chest growing hotter and hotter.

He wanted her. He wanted her badly.

He heard her words, her promise that she wouldn't force him if he had regrets. He knew that she meant it, that she would stop if he asked her to.

But he also knew that he couldn't bear to ask her to stop. Not now.

"I won't regret it," he said, his voice rough.

Without another word, he rolled on top of her, pressing her down into the bed as she had imagined him doing. He didn't want to hold back anymore, to fight the desire that burned through him.

He cupped her face in his hands, his eyes fixed on hers as he spoke. "Are ye sure you want this, wife? Because if we do this, there's no going back.”

She let out a single, sharp gasp as he was suddenly on top of her. The weight of him was both comforting and arousing and she had to fight the urge to roll her hips against his through the multiple layers of fabric. Sara let out a small groan as she tried push the blanket down without breaking contact with him.

"I've never wanted anything-- anyone as much as I want you. I swear." She couldn't think of a time where she had been so desperate for another's touch. Only Ian was able to get that kind of response from her.

"There was no going back the moment I said I do." And with that, she leaned forward and kissed him.

Ian felt the flood of desire wash over him as her words hit him like a wave. He could feel the truth of them, the passion and the fire that burned between them.

When she leaned forward to kiss him, he met her halfway, his lips crashing against hers. He could feel the softness of her mouth, the heat of her breath against his skin. He wanted her more than anything.

He pressed himself against her, grinding his hips against hers as he deepened the kiss. He forgot about everything else in the world. There was only Sara and the aching need he had for her.

She couldn't help the small breathy moan into Ian's mouth as his hips pressed down into her and sent shocks of pleasure through her and a rush of heat pooling in her belly. Sara pulled back and broke the kiss only to move her attention to his neck and found that there was a frustrating amount of skin still covered by his wedding clothes.

Sara sighed and pulled away, her legs had come up under the blanket so that they almost trapped Ian in place but she forced herself to relax. "You're still wearing too many clothes, husband."

Ian groaned as Sara broke the kiss, his body yearning for more of her touch. But he understood her frustration. His own clothes felt constricting and cumbersome, a barrier between them that he wanted to remove as quickly as possible.

He rolled off her, his eyes fixed on her as he sat up on the edge of the bed. "Then I reckon we ought to remedy that," he said, his voice rough with desire.

He reached up and started to undo the buttons of his shirt, pulling the fabric aside to reveal his muscular chest and abdomen.

He could see the heat in her eyes as he undressed, her gaze roaming over his body. He felt a sense of pride at the effect he had on her, the way she wanted him just as much as he wanted her.

When his over jacket was off, he stood up from the bed and started to remove his plaid and kilt, as well as the various animal skins that adorned them. His hands moved slowly, deliberately, his eyes fixed on hers the entire time.

Sara sat up against the head board and watched Ian with rapt attention, she wanted to follow suit and remove the light chemise she still wore-- so that they could fully feel each other's bodies with no barrier between them…but she was afraid of what he would say.

She could still remember the look line Brianna's eyes when she'd taken in the elaborate tattoos that ran up her sides and across her back. There was no reasonable explanation for why or how she would have them, and even in the low light she knew the vibrant ink stood out starkly against her skin.

Instead she made use of the time by pulling the blanket away so that he could finally join her under the covers. When he finally did she looped her arms around his neck to pull him close and gave Ian a warm smile. "That's better."

As he finally joined her under the covers, Ian had to resist the urge to ravish her right then and there. The sight of her in her chemise, all soft curves and warm skin, sent desire coursing through him.

But he saw a hint of hesitation in her eyes, a flicker of uncertainty. He couldn't tell what it was that had caused it, but he suspected it was related to her body. And as much as he wanted to see her naked, he was too distracted by the feel of her arms wrapping around his neck to ask.

He pulled her closer, pressing his body against hers. The thin fabric of her chemise was a torturous barrier between them, reminding him of what he could not have.

He buried his face into the crook of her neck, his breath warm against her skin as he spoke. "You're so beautiful, wife," he murmured, his voice low and rough. "I could look at ye all night and it wouldna be enough.”

His words made her cheeks flush with a mixture of desire and pride. Sara usually tried so hard not to draw attention to herself, so that Ian noticed her and thought she was beautiful satisfied a little bit of the loneliness that had started to take root in her soul. Ian was a light to that darkness and she allowed his touch to be a beacon of hope.

Sara threw one leg over Ian's hip, one of her hands ran down his back and left light scratches with her blunt nails. A little bit of her natural drawl slipped in without her permission when she spoke, her ability to keep the carefully crafted mask in place crumbling to dust.

"Well I'm hopin' you'll do more than just look."

Ian groaned softly as he felt her fingernails scratching down his back, the combination of pleasure and slight pain sending jolts of desire through him. He could feel her leg moving to wrap around his hip, the warmth of her body pressed against his own.

He pulled back slightly, resting his forehead against hers as he took in the sight she made. Her eyes dark with desire, her hair spread out against the pillow.

"Trust me, lass," he murmured, his voice low and guttural. "I'll do so much more than just look.”

He leaned in and captured her mouth in a kiss, his tongue delving between her lips, claiming her as his own. His hands roamed over her body, exploring every curve and contour through the fabric of her chemise.

He wanted her. Needed her. He couldn't get enough of her. As his lips moved to her neck, he bit down gently against her skin, leaving a mark to remind her that she was his.

Her fingers carded through the long thin braids of his fiery hair and she panted as the feeling of his teeth against her sensitive skin registered and her hips bucked against his in response. She grabbed one of his hand and slipped it under her dress so that he could feel the soft warm skin of her chest, allowing him to explore as much as he wanted.

"That feels really good," She whispered, and tried not to devolve into a writhing mess. "I want more though, I want all of you.."

Ian's breath caught in his chest as he felt her soft skin under his hand, the feel of her body arching towards him, the sound of her whispered words in his ear. He wanted her so badly that it was almost painful.

He ran his hand over her chest, feeling the curve of her breast, the smoothness of her skin. He wanted to feel all of her, to explore every inch of her body with his hands and his mouth.

"You'll have all of me," he growled, his voice low and rough. "Every last bit, as many times as you want.”

He moved his mouth down to her neck again, biting and kissing his way down the sensitive skin. Meanwhile his hand continued to explore, tracing the contour of her stomach and hip.

He could feel the heat of her body, the way she moved against him, desperate for more. He wanted to give her everything, to satisfy her in every way he could.

"Tell me what ye want," he whispered, his voice hoarse with desire. "Anything ye want, I'll give it to ye.”

Sara was lost in a sea of sensations as Ian continued to touch and caress, and kiss and bite her sensitive skin all while saying the hottest things she could imagine. Her hands began to explore him in return where she could, smoothing strokes down his chest so she could feel the hard planes of muscle. Ian may not have been the broadest man, but he was all strong sinewy muscle.

Her cheeks burned hot when he asked her to tell him her desires, the hand on her hip like a brand. After so long of repressing this part of herself, asking for his attentions out loud still felt…forbidden. Instead Sara reached between them for his hand that was one her hip and moved it down towards her entrance, "I…I need you. Something, anything…"

Ready and needy her body arched and clenched around nothing, and the more he toyed with her the more desperate she got. Sara panted and placed a gentle bite on Ian's earlobe. "I want you inside of me. Now.”

Ian's breath caught in his throat at her words, the hot whisper in his ear sending a rush of desire through him. He could feel the need radiating off of her, the way her body writhed and arched against his own.

He knew he wasn't going to be able to hold back any longer. With a single, fluid movement he shifted so that he was on top of her, resting between her legs.

"Ye don't have to ask twice, wife," he growled, his voice rough with lust. "I'm all yours.”

He pressed himself against her, his hardness straining against her most intimate parts. He could feel the heat of her body, the wetness between her legs.

He wanted her, needed her. He couldn't wait any longer.

He grasped her legs, wrapping them around his hips as he positioned himself at her entrance. He looked down at her, his eyes dark with desire. "Are ye ready, lass?”

The look in his eyes send electric shocks down her spine and Sara leaned up to press an affectionate, tender kiss on Ian's lips before giving him an answer. It was hard to hold still and let him control this moment but she wanted to give him what he needed as well. Her thumb brushed over the stubble of his jaw and she nodded, trying to make sure she stayed relaxed and he entered. It had been quite a while since she had sex and knew that it might not be the more comfortable stretch at first.

"I'm ready, Ian." She breathed, looking up at him with eyes hooded with pleasure and desire.

It was almost more than Ian could bear to hear her say his name in that tone, her voice low and breathless with desire. He could feel himself slipping further and further away from the last shreds of his control.

He took a deep breath, steadying himself as he looked down at her, his eyes locked on hers. He was trembling, his body taut with need.

He pressed himself against her, slowly, carefully, entering her inch by inch. The sensation was almost overwhelming, the feeling of her heat and tightness around him.

He could hardly speak, his voice barely more than a guttural moan "Christ… ye feel so good," he panted, his breath coming in ragged gasps.

He could feel himself starting to move, slowly at first, as he tried to maintain a modicum of control. But the pleasure was almost too much, her body surrounding him, drawing him in deeper.

He couldn't keep a steady rhythm, his body moving almost instinctively against her, seeking more, needing more.

He leaned down, burying his head into the crook of her neck, his lips and teeth finding her skin there. He needed to taste her, to feel the salty sweetness of her skin against his tongue.

He had lost what little control he had left, his body moving faster and faster against hers. All he could focus on was the feeling of her body against his, the sound of her gasps and moans in his ear.

"Christ, lass…. I canna last much longer…ye feel too good…" he panted, his words almost a prayer against her skin.

He could feel his body starting to tense, the pleasure building to unbearable heights. He knew he wouldn't be able to make it last much longer. He needed her to come with him, to take the fall with him.

He reached down between them, his thumb finding her most sensitive spot and beginning to rub and circle it in time with his thrusts.

Sara's gasps turned sharp as the feelings inside her became too much. Her hands gripped Ian's shoulders as her body tensed and her pleasure mounted until she felt as though she was about to shatter into a million pieces. His thumb swiped against her mercilessly and she almost let out a sob of pleasure against the skin of his arm. Instead she stopped holding back-- Sara let go and allowed the tidal wave of release to sweep her away.

Her arms wrapped around Ian in a tight embrace as her innermost muscles clenched and spasmed around him. "Mi amor, mi vida," She whispered against his ear as he followed her off the edge.

Ian could feel the wave of her release as Sara's body contracted around him, the pleasure almost unbearable. Her words, whispered in Spanish, were like a sweet, melodic caress.

He couldn't hold back any longer. Her release was the final push he needed. He let go, his body shuddering as he came undone inside her, his name a low, guttural moan on his lips.

He collapsed onto her, his body slick with sweat, his breath coming in ragged gasps. He felt boneless, exhausted, completely wrung out.

She let him catch his breath, her arms remained wrapped around him though her embrace was not as intense now. It took a minute to get her own breathing out of control and when she finally hand, Sara pulled back to meet Ian's eyes with a little bit of a sheepish expression. When she shifted her weight she could still feel him inside her and couldn't help but let out a small his as he pulled away.

"That was…wow." Her voice was filled with quiet wonder once they'd both calmed enough to speak.

Ian's heart was still racing as he looked down at her, his breathing gradually returning to normal. He could still feel the lingering tremors of his release, his body thrumming with pleasure.

He chuckled as he heard the wonder in her voice, a warm and tender smile spreading across his face.

"Aye, it was…" he said, his voice low and rough.

He shifted to the side, pulling her closer and wrapping his arms around her, pulling her tight against his chest. He nuzzled his face into her hair, inhaling the sweet honeyed scent of it.

"I canna believe how good ye feel," he murmured, his voice soft against her skin.

He trailed his fingers lazily over her body, tracing the curves and contour of her hips and waist. He could feel the stickiness between her legs, the combined evidence of their pleasure.

"I didn't hurt ye, did I?" he asked, a hint of concern in his voice as he pulled back slightly to look at her.

She was boneless against his chest, allowing herself to relax into him and the bed. Sleep was starting to beckon her, making everything feel warm and heavy and so comfortable. But his question surprised her and Sara turned to look back at Ian with a smile.

"Only in the best way," She pulled his arms a little tighter against her and continued before he could misunderstand her words. "Sitting tomorrow will be a little bit of a challenge but well worth it."

Ian couldn't help but chuckle at her response, a warm and low sound that vibrated through his chest.

He pulled her even closer against him, relishing the feeling of her body pressed against his. He could smell the scent of sex and sweat on her skin, an intoxicating combination that made him want to bury himself deeply within her all over again.

But exhaustion was starting to set in, his body feeling heavy and sated. He nuzzled his face into her neck, his breath hot against her skin.

"I don't think I'll be able to move for a while," he said, his voice lazy and contented. "I think ye might've broken me."

He pressed a gentle kiss against her shoulder, his lips lingering against her skin.

"You smell so good," he murmured, his voice thick with the drowsiness that was starting to creep up on him. "Like honey and spice.”

"Mm..and you smell like…Leather. And the forest." She whispered, her mind already starting to drift off.

Ian chuckled softly at her sleepy declaration.

"Good thing, since I spent most of my day tracking a deer in the woods," he murmured, his voice low and thick with fatigue.

He buried his face into her hair, inhaling the sweet, honeyed scent of it. He wrapped his arms tighter around her, holding her close.

"We should probably get cleaned up," he said, his voice barely more than a mumble. "But I don't think I wanna move just yet.”

"…Then fuck it, we'll clean up tomorrow." She sighed, all pretense and secrets forgotten in her exhaustion. Her souther appalachian drawl coming in full force and she snuggled more against him as she slowly fell asleep.

"I know you're…supposed to…stops UTIs 'n shit…but I've never gotten one." The words were spoken around a yawn, Sara completely forgetting that no one in the 18th century would know what a urinary tract infection was, much less how to prevent one. "Let's just..go to sleep."

Ian's eyes widened slightly in surprise as he heard her drawl come through, the sound of it foreign and yet strangely pleasing to hear. But what threw him off even more was her reference to something called a UTI. He had no idea what she was talking about, but he didn't have the energy to question it.

"Alright then, lass," he said, his voice a low, gentle rumble against her ear. "No moving necessary. Let's just stay here and get some sleep."

He let out a yawn, his body relaxing against hers.

With his arms still wrapped tightly around her, Ian closed his eyes and allowed sleep to start to take over. He could feel his breaths matching hers, his chest rising and falling in rhythm with hers.

He let his mind drift, the events of the day fading into a warm, fuzzy haze. He could still feel the lingering pleasure from their lovemaking, mixed with a deep sense of contentment with Sara still held in his arms.

[iwritesmutnottragedy]

The next day dawned clear and crisp, and Ian felt a mixture of excitement and trepidation as he set out toward the boarding house. He was picking Sara up and bringing her home to Fraser's Ridge, to start their lives together as man and wife. He quickened his pace as he entered the small town, eager to begin this new chapter in their lives.

As he rounded the corner to the alley where the boarding house stood, something caught his attention. He could hear raised voices coming from the back of the long, narrow building.

Curious, Ian approached slowly. As he got closer, he could begin to make out what was being said. It was Sara's voice, raised in anger. But it was the second voice that gave him pause. The owner of the taproom, Thomas Jenkins, sounded angry and frustrated.

Ian's pace quickened as he moved further down the alley towards the source of the voices. It was definitely Sara, but what was she saying? And why was she so upset?

Finally, he rounded the corner and found them. Sara was backed against the wall, her face a mixture of anger and defiance. Jenkins was standing over her, his face twisted in a sneer.

"You think you can just walk away and make a fool of me!" Sara couldn't see Ian around Thomas Jenkins massive form. His pudgy fingers bit painfully into her arms, sure to leave a series of small round bruises. She fought against him with all the fury of a feral cat, scratching and kicking at anything she could reach.

"Let me go, you fucking asshole!" She screamed. Mr. Jenkins released one of her arms to try and get a better grip on her and just as Sara reached out to scratch his face something-- no, someone barreled into him full force and left her sagging again the wooden panels of the building.

"…Ian?"

Ian's blood ran cold as he saw the situation before him. Sara, backed against the wall, struggling against the bigger man who had her pinned. He felt a surge of protective anger rise up within him, and he wasted no time in reacting.

With a roar, he charged forward, slamming into Jenkins with all his strength. The larger man stumbled back, surprise and pain etched on his face.

She watched in shock as Ian took the sneak attack to his advantage, immediately pinning the much larger man to the ground and leveling punch after punch to Mr. Jenkins face. The moments stretched on and she could tell that his rage had gotten the better of him. Her shock turned to horror and she stumbled forward, intent on stopping him before he could do something he might regret. Like killing someone for her.

"Ian! Ian, stop!" She shouted, trying to pull him off of the other man's barely conscious form.

Ian was lost in a haze of anger and protective fury. He could feel the impact of his knuckles against the other man's face, each punch leaving a satisfying thump. He barely registered the sound of Sara's voice calling his name, only vaguely registering the feel of her hands on his shoulders

It wasn't until she grabbed his forearms and pulled with all her strength that he snapped out of his rage. He stumbled back, nearly crashing into her, his breathing ragged and his fists still clenched.

He spun around to face her, his eyes wild with rage. "Are ye alright?" he demanded, his gaze sweeping over her form. His knuckles ached, and he could feel the adrenaline still coursing through his veins, making his hands tremble.

It took him several moments to calm down, his anger slowly draining away as he realized the gravity of what had just happened. He could have killed the man if he had kept going.

Sara's wide eyes darted from Ian's bloody hands to the Mr. Jenkins' ruined face. The longer she looked the more she felt the rise of bile in the back of her throat and before she could think, she was pulling frantically at Ian's arms. She ushered him towards the opening of the alley, grabbing her fallen bag of things as they fled. It was still relatively early in the morning and she was grateful that not many people were out as they ran to where Ian had tied up his horse.

Her bag made a soft thump as she tossed her bag into the small cart attached to his horse. Only then did she turn towards him, panting and trembling from the rush of adrenaline. "We have to go now."

Ian's head was still reeling as he followed Sara out of the alley and towards where he'd left his horse. He could see the sheer panic on her face, the urgency in her movements, and he knew that he needed to act fast.

He swung up into the saddle and held out a hand to help her up behind him. "Hold on," he said gruffly, his voice still rough with anger.

Once she was securely seated behind him, he kicked the horse into a gallop and they took off down the road, leaving the town and the unconscious man behind them.

Her arms clung tightly to Ian as they rode over the hills that separated the ridge from the valley of Brownsville. At first her grip had been purely because of how fast the horse had taken off, but as time wore on and they slowed to a gallop-- no longer afraid of anyone following chase. A pleasant breeze rustled through the trees, in complete contrast to the sudden turn of events that the day had unleashed.

A fine tremble still ran through her body and Sara found that she was having trouble letting go. They were safe. She repeated the thought to herself like a mantra. They were safe. Finally, she let out a great exhale and loosened her hold on him.

"I…Ian?" Sara swallowed heavily. "Are you okay?”

Ian's shoulders relaxed just a fraction as Sara loosened her grip around his waist. He had been focused on getting them out of Brownsville as quickly as possible, but now that they were on open road, he could finally take a moment to process what had just happened.

His jaw was clenched, the muscles in his face tight with tension. He could still feel the anger and adrenaline coursing through his veins, but it was slowly beginning to fade, leaving behind a sense of exhaustion.

Ian slowed the horse to a brisk trot, allowing them to speak without having to shout over the wind.

"I'm fine." he said gruffly, his voice hoarse with emotion. "But what about ye?"

He twisted his neck to glance back at her, trying to get a look at her face. Her eyes were wide and her hands still trembled slightly. It was clear that she had been just as affected by the altercation as he had.

She was relieved that he was okay. From what she'd seen, he hadn't even been hit-- only his hands showed signed of the violence that had unfolded. Sara sat up a little bit straighter, pressing her face close to Ian's shoulder so that he could hear her clearly. "I'm alright-- Just a bit shaken. Literally."

The scenery that passed by was idyllic and finally she found herself relaxing, her shaking slowed until she was simply pressed against him bonelessly instead of a coiled ball.

"I'm sorry -- That was such a shitty start to the day." She spoke, not bothering to censor herself and appear like a time period appropriate lady.

Ian snorted in amusement at her choice of words. "No need to apologize," he said gruffly. "I'm the one who nearly killed the bastard."

He could still feel a lingering sense of anger as he thought back to how Jenkins had cornered her, how he'd hurt her. The memory made his fists clench involuntarily, his knuckles stinging with pain.

He could feel the tension in her body slowly ease as they rode, the tautness of her muscles relaxing as she leaned into him. The feeling of her pressed against his back was both comforting and arousing, and he had to shake his head to clear his thoughts.

"Can ye tell me what happened back there?" he asked, his voice gruff. "Why was Jenkins so angry with ye?”

Sara was silent for a long minute, her cheek pressed against Ian's arm and and her arms still loosely wrapped around his waist. "Someone from the Boarding House saw us and started some gossip-- I guess he was angry that I had actually showed I didn't need him. And it embarrassed him in front of his wealthy patron."

Her tone turned eerily perceptive, like a prophetic whisper in the wind. "It made him feel small, ironic despite his size but true. He was a small, gross man."

Ian listened intently as Sara recounted what had happened, anger once again rising in his chest at the thought of Jenkins harassing her. He knew all too well what kind of man the old bastard was, and he had no doubt that he would have continued to harass her if he hadn't showed up when he had.

He nodded in agreement at her description of the man's character. "Aye," he said gruffly "That's an accurate assessment. A small, foul man with an even fouler mind.”

He lapsed into silence again, his mind still reeling from what had happened. He could still feel the lingering effects of his anger, his heart rate slowly returning to normal.

He glanced down at his hands, noticing for the first time how bruised and scraped his knuckles were. He flexed them absently, wincing at the pain that flared in his joints.

"Should be near to the Ridge by now," he said finally, breaking the silence. "We'll be there soon."

He could feel a pang of nervousness in his chest as they approached his home. He wondered how his family would react to their abrupt return. And how they would react to Sara.

Ian had spent hours tossing and turning in bed, unable to find sleep. His mind kept replaying the events of the day-- the fight, the way Sara had clung to him as they rode back to the Ridge, the way his family had looked at her with a mix of curiosity and unease.

He couldn't stand the tension any longer, and he swung his legs out of bed and grabbed his boots. Maybe a walk would help clear his head. He silently made his way through the darkened house, slipping outside into the cool night air.

As soon as he was outside, Ian felt some of the tension leave his body. The air was crisp and fresh, and the sound of crickets and frogs filled the air.

He began to walk around the perimeter of the house, still lost in thought, when he noticed a figure sitting under the stars. As he got closer, he realized it was Sara.

He watched her for a moment, observing the way her dark hair cascaded down her back and how her nightdress hugged her curves. She was staring up at the stars, her face bathed in silvery moonlight.

He was struck suddenly by her beauty, and he felt a pang of something that he couldn't quite identify. It was somewhere between lust and tenderness, and it took him off guard.

He stood there watching her for a few moments longer, torn between wanting to speak to her and not wanting to disturb her reverie. Finally, he gave in to his desire to be near her and stepped out of the shadows into the soft glow of moonlight.

"Can't sleep?" he said quietly, his voice soft so as not to startle her.

Sara suddenly sat up straight and turned to face him. The surprise on her face faded quickly and she gave Ian a warm smile, stretching her legs out in front of her and wiggling her toes against the long green grass. She loved nature and camping and the nice, flourishing wildlife that bordered all sides of the Ridge reminded her of the cabins that her family would stay in when she was a child.

"It's just so peaceful out here… I like to look up at the stars and just think. I couldn't do that in Brownsville, it wasn't exactly safe."

Ian nodded in agreement, coming to sit down beside her with a heavy sigh. He sat cross-legged, his arms propped on his knees, and looked up at the stars as well.

"Aye, it's different out here," he said, his voice still laced with the remains of his Scottish brogue. "It's quiet, and peaceful. No one to bother ye."

He paused for a moment, stealing a sidelong glance at her. In the moonlight, she looked even more beautiful than usual.

"Is it much different than Scotland?" They had spoken a little bit about his childhood and family that lived an ocean away.

Ian thought for a moment, considering her question. "Aye, it's different," he said finally. "Scotland is cold, and harsh, but it's also beautiful. The mountains, the glens, the rivers… there's a wildness there that's hard to describe."

He paused for a moment, a nostalgic smile on his face. "But it's also no' so different from here. The people are the same - stubborn and strong, and willing to fight for what they love. That's what's important, in the end.”

Comfortable silence stretched between them as they listened to the song of nature. She thought back to that morning, how he had reacted so swiftly when he saw that she was in trouble. Sara had to remind herself that he only acted on what he thought was right, not because he..loved her. Though the very thought sent a thrill through her heart. Her hand itched to slide just a couple inches to the side so that her fingers could brush his leg.

"That reminds me, I didn't get the chance to thank you for not telling your family what happened earlier." She turned to face him fully, mimicking his sitting posture.

Ian shook his head, his expression softening at her words. "There was no need," he said gruffly. "My family doesna need to know about every little scrape I get into."

He paused, his eyes drifting over her face, lit up in the silvery glow of the moonlight. She looked so beautiful, sitting there in only her nightdress, her hair falling down to her shoulders. He had to tear his eyes away before he did something stupid.

"Are ye alright, though?" he asked, his voice hoarse. "After what happened this morning?”

Her mind flittered back to the earlier events, ghosting past her fear and the shock of seeing Ian devolve into such violence. She curled her legs up against her chest, toes still curling and playing with the long strands of grass as if to ground herself there. "I was surprised. I didn't expect you to…react that way."

But honestly she hadn't expected anyone to try and save her. Sara reached out through the space between them and deftly slipped her fingers into Ian's hand, intertwining them so there was little chance he would misunderstand her. She wasn't upset, just processing. Her thumb ran gently over his banged up knuckles.

"I'm just glad you didn't get hurt."

Ian's breath hitched in his chest as Sara reached out and took his hand, their fingers tangling together. The feeling of her skin against his was like a jolt of electricity, like touching a live wire. He forced himself to keep his breathing even, to not let on the effect she was having on him.

He could feel her thumb gently tracing over his knuckles, her touch sending shivers up his arm. He winced slightly as she touched a particularly sore spot, but didn't pull his hand away.

"I'm alright," he grunted, his voice rough. "It's nothin'.”

He watched as Sara continued to trace her fingers gently over his knuckles, her touch soft and light. He could feel the calluses on her fingertips, and he wondered what they would feel like against his skin.

He looked up at her, his eyes meeting hers in the dim light. "Ye shouldna touch them, they're all beat up," he said gruffly, but he didn't pull his hand away from hers.

'I could kiss them better…' The thought flowed through her mind and she had to resist the urge to speak the words out loud. In another time. She reminded herself and instead held his hand firmly but gently in her own. It had been so long since she'd touched another person like this-- without fear that there would be some kind of consequence. The social intricacies of this time were still so foreign to her most of the time, it was easy to over step commonly accepted boundaries.

"You're right," She whispered eventually, her dark eyes looking up into his blue ones. She marveled how in this light only a thin layer of their usual color sparkled, his pupils dilated in reaction to the dark…and maybe something else. It caused a shiver up her spine and Sara ran another brush against his hand, though this time she avoided the damaged skin and settled for feeling the sensitive skin on the back of his hand.

"Do you want me to stop?"

Ian's chest tightened as Sara touched the sensitive skin on the back of his hand. He could feel the heat of her touch spreading through his veins, making his heart race. He wanted to pull away, to break the contact before it consumed him, but he couldn't seem to find the strength to do it.

"No," he gritted out, his voice hoarse. He didn't care that he sounded desperate. He didn't care about anything at that moment except the feel of her skin against his.

He watched as she continued to touch him, her fingertips tracing delicate patterns over his skin. Each gentle brush set his nerves on fire, and he had to bite his lip to keep from gasping aloud. He could feel his body responding to her touch, his blood thrumming with need.

He knew he should pull away, should put some distance between them, but he couldn't bring himself to do it. He wanted more, so much more.

Touching Ian was quickly becoming addictive. The way that his freckles danced and disappeared in the dim moonlight under her fingers. She remembered playing with other children on the playground and they would count each other's freckles-- suddenly she wondered just how many he had. If they were everywhere. Her eyes traced over the well worn shirt he had on, only pausing when their gaze met once more. The intensity in his eyes sent a bolt of heat straight through her and she boldly slid her hand further up his arm to circle her fingers around his wrist.

His pulse rushed under that gentle touch, strong and fast. Sara's own breathing had deepened just a bit, her full lips parted in quiet awe of just being so close to him. "Sometimes it doesn't feel real, that you're going to be my husband…"

Even if it was only to keep her safe, but she didn't want to think about that. In this moment Sara only wanted to pretend that they were getting married out of desire-- maybe even the potential of love, if only for one night.

Ian's throat worked as he swallowed, his eyes glued to her face. Her touch was like a wildfire, burning through his skin and setting his blood on fire. Every nerve was alight, every muscle coiled taut in response to her touch.

Her words, low and soft in the darkness, sent a shiver down his spine. Her eyes looked huge in the moonlight, and her lips parted slightly as she spoke. He could see the rapid beating of her heart in the pulse at her throat, and it only added to the tension that thrummed through his body.

He was trying to maintain some kind of control, to keep himself from reacting to her touch, but it was becoming increasingly impossible. Every brush of her fingers on his skin sent a bolt of desire straight to his groin, and he was having a harder and harder time thinking straight.

Her words whispered through the still night air, soft and intimate, and he couldn't help but imagine what it would be like to be her husband in truth. To be intimate and close in ways that went far beyond the physical.

As if she could see where his mind went, Sara released his wrist and instead inched even closer so that their sides were so close that she could take a heavy inhale and brush against him. Hesitantly, the fear of rejection like a neon warning in her mind's eyes, she rested her head against his shoulder and listened to the sound of his breathing. It was a little heavier than when he had first sat down next to her. She wondered if he was as affected by her presence as she was his.

"All these stupid rules," She sighed. There wasn't much she could say without risking revealing the truth of where she came from-- but Sara still spoke none the less. It was either that or kiss him, and the latter wasn't a true option. Boldly, she announced. "I wish I could just…kiss you. And it be just a nice shared moment, not some scandalous thing that would threaten my honor. It's so stupid."

Ian's heart was pounding in his chest as Sara rested her head on his shoulder, her body pressed against his. He could feel the heat of her skin, the brush of her hair against his neck. The scent of her filled his nostrils, an intoxicating mix of sweat and that something special that was just Sara.

He inhaled deeply, trying to steady his breathing, and nearly lost his mind as her words registered. Kiss him? The idea was both thrilling and terrifying, and he had to bite back a groan.

"Ye canna talk like that," he grumbled, trying to keep his voice steady. "Not here."

His body was tense, all his muscles coiled tight as a spring. He knew he should pull away, put some space between them, but he seemed incapable of moving. All he could think about was the feel of her body pressed against his, the sound of her voice in his ear, and the desire that thrummed through every inch of him like a living thing.

Sara looked up at him and her dark eyebrows drew together in confusion. Had she misread the situation? But no, she could see the way that he held himself so still in self restraint. The atmosphere between them shifted fully and her eyes drifted down from his eyes to weigh a heavy stare at his lips. It was a dangerous game she was playing but with a sudden and overwhelming realization she knew she wanted him, to feel his hands on her and his body pressing her into the soft, cool grass.

"Why not? It's just us." She looked around as if to both prove her point and make sure that she was right and there was no possibility of anyone's lingering gaze putting them in jeopardy.

Ian's grip on himself wavered as Sara continued to look up at him, her gaze lingering on his lips. His body was screaming at him, his mind hazy with desire. It's just us, she'd said, and he knew she was right. There was nobody here but them, nobody to see or hear anything that passed between them.

But still, he knew it was dangerous. If anyone ever found out…

"It's not right," he gritted out, his voice ragged. "It's not proper.”

"Ian, I'll share a secret with you." Her voice dipped low and she turned her face so the words were whispered temptingly against his arm. She could tell now just how much self control he was using and a dark, lustful voice in the back of her mind wanted to see just how far she could push him. To see that desperate control shatter and feel his hands wrap around her, his fingers leaving pleasing bruises against her skin instead of that painful ones she'd received earlier. She could feel a shiver run through him and it send answering thrill of pleasure straight to her core.

"I'm not a proper lady."

Ian's breath hitched in his chest as Sara's mouth brushed against the sensitive skin on his arm. The low, sultry sound of her voice was like a caress, and it sent a bolt of heat straight to his groin. His heart was racing, his mind foggy with desire as she spoke.

He wasn't sure how much more he could take. He felt like he was teetering on the edge of a cliff, about to fall into an abyss of need and desire. And her words - I'm not a proper lady- only pushed him closer and closer to the edge.

He was trying to hold himself back, to maintain some shred of control, but it was becoming harder and harder with every moment that passed. Every touch, every word, every look from her was like a knife slicing through his defenses. He could feel his resolve crumbling, his control slipping away.

And in spite of all his attempts to resist, he couldn't help but wonder what it would be like to just give in.

To let go.

To take what he wanted, consequences be damned.

He could feel his body tightening with each passing second, his heart thudding in his chest. His mind was a maelstrom of warring urges - to do what was right, to resist this dangerous game she was playing. And yet, the desire that thrummed through every fiber of his being was overwhelming, like a fire that threatened to consume him whole.

His hands were clenching and unclenching at his sides, tension coiled in every muscle. He was hanging on to his control by a thread, and he wasn't sure how much longer he could hold on.

Her conscience suddenly took pity on Ian and Sara pulled away, giving him enough space so that the cool night air would take her place. The rushing in her nearly overpowered her senses as her pulse raced and she was consumed by the desire to return to his side. Hell, she wanted to say screw it and just climb into Ian's damn lap. Instead Sara let out a small, breathy groan and ran a hand forcefully through her mass of dark hair.

"I want you," She confessed, eyes locked on the the way the grass moved gently in the night breeze. "But I know…you're right. It's not proper…And I have been trying to- to follow the rules." Her voice was full of regret and the very shreds of her self control. "As fucking stupid as those rules are."

As Sara pulled away, Ian felt a pang of regret and relief all at once. He was grateful for the space, but he ached to have her back in his arms, pressed against his body. Her confession echoed in his ears, sending a jolt of heat through him.

He sat still for a moment, trying to get his breath back. He was desperately trying to ignore the way her words had affected him, the tightness in his groin, the thump in his heart.

"I know," he gritted out. "But…we canna. We just canna."

The finality of that statement settled over them and her shoulders slumped with disappointment. She knew in her heart that if there was to be that kind of intimacy between them, it would have to wait. She might be able to easily move past the stigma such a choice would cause, but she knew that Ian would struggle. It would cloud the energy around their upcoming nuptials and she didn't want to make things any more complicated than they already were.

But damn did she still want to kiss him.

"Then…not tonight. I know…we can't tonight but.." She reached her hand out as if to take his but then seemed to think better of it, dropping limply to her lap. "We can talk about this again after the wedding?"

Ian watched as Sara's shoulders slumped, the disappointment obvious in her body language. He knew how she felt - he felt the same way - but he knew that there was no other choice. At least, not right now.

He didn't respond for a moment, his mind warring with his body. Every inch of him wanted to pull her into his arms and kiss her senseless, but he knew he couldn't. Not yet.

But then she suggested that they talk about it after the wedding, and something inside him thrummed with hope.

He reached out and took her hand, intertwining their fingers. His touch was gentle but firm, and he held on tightly as if afraid she might slip through his grasp.

"Aye," he said, his voice low and rough with suppressed emotions. "After the wedding. We'll talk then. I promise." He gave her hand a squeeze and then reluctantly released it, his fingers trailing across her skin.

The touch was calming and helped to ease what was left of the tension from her posture, but Sara's thoughts still raced with desires. She knew that the longer they spent together, alone in the dark, the more the temptation to close the space between them would creep back up on her again. So with a heavy sigh of regret, and the most challenging exercise of self control.

"I- I should turn in for the night. I'll see you tomorrow?" She grunted, pushing herself up to her feet and brushing any grass or dirt that may have gotten onto her night dress.

As Sara stood up, Ian's chest ached with the need to pull her down into his lap and keep her there. He could still feel the ghost of her touch on his skin, his body still thrumming with desire.

But he knew she was right. If they stayed out here any longer, they would only be testing their already-strained willpower. He forced himself to stand up as well, fighting back the urge to pull her body into his.

"Aye," he said, his voice husky. "Tomorrow. Goodnight, mo ghràidh.”

[iwritesmutnottragedy]

As Sara pushed through the doors of the tavern, she was surprised to see Ian waiting for her. She had told him to take a couple days to think about their arrangement, yet here he was the next day. He was leaning against a nearby tree, his tall frame casually relaxed but his eyes sharp and watchful.

Something was different, she thought, taking in his intense gaze.

Before she could even say a word, Ian strode towards her, his expression unreadable. He stopped just in front of her, his voice gruff as he spoke. “I’ve been thinkin’.”

He glanced around, noting the few people on the street who were watching them, then grabbed her arm and pulled her into the shadows of an alleyway next to the tavern.

Once they were out of view, he faced her again, his eyes locking onto hers. "I have another condition for this arrangement.”

Her expression became guarded but Sara nodded in understanding. It was his future too, it was only right that he should be able to set some terms. "Alright. What is it?"

Ian shifted his weight, his eyes studying her face closely. "First, ye'll quit your job. Ye'll no' be working for that bastard anymore."

He paused, his expression hardening. "And second, ye'll come and live with me on Fraser's Ridge.”

His voice was firm, leaving no room for argument. He could see the surprise in her eyes, but he didn't let his own emotions show.

"It's safer that way," he explained, his grip on her arm still firm. "Ridge is miles away from here. He'll have no way of finding ye there.”

Sara blinked up at him owlishly. She knew that naturally, once they were married it would make sense for her to come and live with him. But she hadn't expected that he would want her to quit her job. A small frown tugged at her full lips, the split now mostly healed and the bruising had faded to a sickly yellow instead of the red and purple smudges they were. It was fast healing to be sure, faster than most people.

"I will come and live with you but…Mr. Jenkins won't be happy that I'm leaving." She couldn't help but smile at the thought.

Ian's eyes darkened as she mentioned Mr. Jenkins, his jaw tightening. "Let him be unhappy. You're no' going back there to work."

He stepped closer, his chest almost touching hers. "I won't allow it. It's not safe for ye there."

His expression softened as he looked down at her bruised face, his hand instinctively reaching up to touch her chin gently, angling her face up to the light.

"How is your lip?" he asked gruffly.

He fought the urge to lean down and run his finger over the healed cut, to feel the smoothness of her skin. He wasn't supposed to care about her like this. This was just a marriage of convenience, nothing more.

But as he stared down at her, he couldn't deny the growing protectiveness he felt towards her.

The feeling of his warm fingers on her chin sent shivers all the way down to her toes. A blush rose to her cheeks as Sara allowed Ian to turn her head this way and that so he could see how well the bruises and cut were healing. She took the opportunity to study his features, the pale freckled skin and unique tribal dots that went across his cheeks and the bridge of his nose. He certainly was handsome.

"I'm alright. Doesn't even hurt anymore." Her voice had dropped to almost a whisper, eyes half lidded as she stood just a little closer.

Ian's breath hitched as she spoke, her soft voice sending a jolt of electricity through his veins. Get it together, man, he thought to himself.

He was suddenly excruciatingly aware of how close they were standing, how easy it would be to touch her, to pull her closer and feel her body pressed against his. The thought made his pulse quicken, but he pushed it aside.

"Good," he grunted, his hand dropping from her chin. "Let's get ye back to the boarding house.”

She felt his absence keenly but walked quietly by his side, trying to shake the butterflies swarming in her stomach and calm her racing heart. A different her in a different time would have pulled him forward by his collar and made out with him right there. Sara had to remind herself of where she was, of when she was. A kiss was not just a simple or exchange of affection here-- there was nothing casual about it.

Not that there was anything casual about marriage. Still, Ian had set the terms: A marriage in name only. Perhaps he didn't find her attractive? She turned to him with a curious expression;

"So after the wedding-- we'll live together then?"

Ian nodded, his expression guarded. "Aye, we'll live together."

His mind flashed with a brief vision of what that life might look like. Him, her, sharing a home, living in close quarters, cooking together, sleeping in the same bed… It made his heart pound, but he pushed the thought aside. This was just a business arrangement, he reminded himself fiercely.

He didn't allow himself to look at her as they neared the boarding house. He didn't trust himself to keep his hands to himself.

She tried to imagine living outside of the village. For all it's differences from her time, Brownsville was pretty much the city compared to some of the cabins people established in the middle of the woods. There were many days that she walked down the muddy road and wished she could be that isolated and surrounded by the peace of nature…but her lack of survival skills made that notion just another day dream.

"..And your family? Did you tell them yet?" She couldn't hide the nervous tinge to her voice. It was hard enough they would have to keep the real reason for their marriage a secret from his family. She dreaded the thought of them disapproving of her on top of that.

Ian could sense her nervousness in her question, and he couldn't blame her. This wasn't a situation any decent woman would be comfortable being in.

He sighed heavily, his shoulders taut. "No, no' yet. I'll go home tomorrow an' talk to my uncle. I imagine he's no' going to be too happy."

He glanced over at her, seeing the uncertainty in her expression. He knew his family would have questions, and he knew she was worried about their reaction.

He spoke gruffly, trying to lighten the mood. "But you shouldna worry. They're no' a judgmental lot. And they'll see that this is the right decision."

He wasn't sure whom he was trying to reassure, her or himself. The thought of his family's reaction, particularly his aunt and cousin, made his stomach twisted into knots.

They had reached the boarding house, and he halted in front of the porch. He turned to her, his eyes meeting hers in the dim light.

"Get some rest," he ordered gruffly, his voice low. "I'll see ye in the mornin'. We'll figure everythin' out then.”

Sara watched as he strolled down the muddy road out of the town with a look of obvious longing. She didn't know how his family might react but she knew that she was absolutely sure in her decision. A soft smile curved her full lips and she turned to go up to her room, already counting down the days until she married Ian Murray.

As Ian walked through the wooded path that led home, he felt a strange mixture of uncertainty and determination. He knew that marrying Sara would solve many of his problems, but he couldn't shake the feeling that he was making a mistake.

Despite his doubts, he had never been one to back down from a decision once it was made. And so, he steeled himself for the conversation he needed to have with Jamie. He would explain the situation, and they would figure out how they would explain this to the rest of the family.

As Ian approached his family's house, he could see a faint light in the widow of the main room. His Uncle Jamie was alone then, probably still awake tending to his business.

Ian took a deep breath for courage and went inside, quietly shutting the door behind him. He walked towards the main room, not surprised to find Jamie still working at the desk in the center of the room.

"Uncle," he called softly.

Jamie's head shot up from the paperwork, a surprised expression on his face. "Ah, lad. I didn't expect to see ye tonight.”

Ian grunted in response, walking further into the room. He stood awkwardly in the center, not sure how to begin.

Finally, he blurted out, "I need to talk to ye about somethin'. Somethin' important.”

Jamie's expression darkened as he saw the serious look on his nephew's face, sensing the gravity of the situation.

He set his pen down and leaned back in his chair, gesturing to the chair across from him. "Sit down, lad. Let's hear it.”

Ian sat down heavily, his hands clenching and unclenching in his lap. He took a deep breath, steeling himself for the inevitable reaction.

"I… I need to tell ye somethin'. Something that's goin' to shock ye, but I need ye to keep an open mind about it.”

Jamie's brow furrowed in concern, a thousand things running through his mind. Had Ian done something foolish? Was he in trouble?

He tried to keep his voice level as he spoke. "Go on, lad. I'm listenin'.”

Ian swallowed hard, his throat feeling tight. "I… I've made a decision. A decision that's goin' to change things. And I need yer support."

He looked up at his uncle, his eyes pleading. "But you have to promise me ye'll hear me out before ye say anything.”

“…I'm to be married.”

Jamie's surprise was evident in his widened eyes and parted lips. He had expected many things, but this was clearly not one of them.

"You're gettin' married?" he repeated slowly. "When did this happen?”

"We met a few months ago when I was in Brownsville," Ian explained. "But I dinna come to the decision until recently."

He looked down at his hands, clenching his fingers together. "She's in a bit of trouble, an' we both agree that marryin' will help solve the problem. It's… it's not ideal, but I reckon it's the right thing to do.”

Jamie leaned back in his chair, his expression contemplative as he absorbed this information. He'd known Ian's solitary lifestyle wouldn't go on forever, knew that one day the lad would want to find someone to build a life with.

But this… this sounded like more than just a love match. He furrowed his brow as he asked, "What d'ye mean, she's in trouble?”

Ian's shoulders tensed as Jamie asked the dreaded question. He knew this was the part that was going to take some explanation.

"It's a long story," he said finally, hesitating. "She… she has someone who's been threatenin' her. He's…" He paused, struggling to find the words. "He's a cruel man, and she needs protection.”

Jamie's eyes widened further as he heard the gravity in his nephew's voice. "What kind of threats? What does he want?"

Ian shifted uncomfortably in his seat, not wanting to reveal too much. "It's private," he said gruffly. "But let's just say… this man is no' someone to be trifled with, an' she doesna feel safe.”

Jamie ran a hand over his face, understanding what his nephew wasn't saying. "Is she in danger?"

"Aye," said Ian simply, his eyes on his hands.

Jamie exhaled heavily. This was not the situation he had expected for the lad. A hasty marriage to save a girl from harm… what kind of trouble had Ian gotten himself into?

He looked at his nephew, seeing the determination in his eyes. "Are ye sure ye want to go through with this?"

Ian tensed at the question, but his jaw set firmly. "Aye," he said, his voice firm. "I am."

Jamie sighed heavily. He had a feeling that there was more to this story than what he was being told, but he trusted Ian's judgement. And if this was what he really wanted, then he'd support him.

Jamie leaned forward, resting his forearms on his desk. "Alright then, lad. If ye're sure, I'll support ye."

He paused, studying his nephew carefully. "What's her name? This woman you're marryin'?”

The tension in Ian's shoulders eased at his uncle's words. He had expected resistance, not acceptance. He gave a small nod, grateful for his support.

"Her name is Sara," he answered, his voice softening. "Sara Russo.”

Jamie raised an eyebrow at the name. " Russo..?"

He tried to recall if he'd heard the name before, but it didn't ring any bells. "Is she Italian?”

Ian nodded, a small smile curving his lips. "Aye, her family emigrated here from Italy a few years back. But…they passed not too long ago. "

He shifted in his chair, his eyes taking on a fond expression. "She's been workin' in a bar in Brownsville, earnin' her keep. Tough lass, she is.”

Jamie couldn't help but be impressed. A young girl living on her own, taking care of herself. A strong and independent woman.

"She sounds like a capable woman," he said with a nod. "And you're sure you're ready to take on the responsibility of a wife?”

Ian gave a firm nod, his jaw set in determination. "I am," he said firmly. "I've thought long an' hard about this, Uncle Jamie. I'm certain it's what I want.”

Jamie studied his nephew closely for a moment, searching his face for any sign of doubt. He found none.

Finally, he let out a slow breath and stood up, walking around the desk to rest a hand on Ian's shoulder.

"I trust your judgment, lad," he said quietly. "If this is what ye want, then I'll support ye in whatever way I can.”

A wave of relief washed over Ian as he heard his uncle's words. He'd been worried about how Jamie would react, but now that he had his support, he felt as if a weight had been lifted off his shoulders.

He looked up at Jamie, his expression softening. "I appreciate it, Uncle Jamie," he said gruffly, his voice thick with emotion.

Jamie squeezed his shoulder firmly, then stepped back. "I take it ye'll be bringin' her here, then?"

Ian nodded. "Aye. She'll be here tomorrow. We plan to get married sometime soon after.”

Jamie nodded, his mind already working on logistics. "I'll tell your aunt to start preparing a room for her. And we'll need to figure out some way to explain this to your cousin and the kids."

Ian groaned at the thought. "Brianna's going to skin me alive for no' tellin' her sooner.”

Jamie chuckled, giving his nephew a wry smile. "Oh, I expect her reaction will be a mix of surprise and anger. But she'll come around, eventually."

He clapped Ian on the shoulder once more. "You just focus on your bride-to-be. We'll handle the rest.”