She’d been interested in spite of herself. Counting her mothers’ scars was so stupid. Yet, something about the way Dad said it made her wonder if…..maybe.
So, she’d jogged, almost running over Hamilton as he turned to set out some cookies he’d been making. Yelling “Sorry” over her shoulder, she’d ran through the halls and finally skidded to a stop right in front of the door to her parents room, pretty much directly across the base from Henri’s library. Remembering a previous time she’d just opened the door, she knocked rapidly first.
Her mom was just coming out of the bathroom with a towel wrapped around her body and another around her hair.
“Hey, Mum! What’s poppin’?” And then smiled to herself in mystical teenage amusment as she flopped down on the bed.
“Don’t you get grease on my blankets, you little grub!”
“Grease, what grease?”
“That black stuff all over your face,” she said as she unwrapped her towel and sat down on the edge of the bed to begin her 
ritual lotion application.
“Dad didn’t say anything.”
Amelia snorted in laughter. “I’m shocked. Were ya guys working on something?”
“Nada. He’s in the library.”
“Your Dad? Wait, why were ya in the library,” and her eyes drilled into her suspiciously, although the intent was a bit lost as she massaged a leg with lotion.
Scar number one she thought. There’s two and three. Crap four.
“Want some help?” She offers.
“Sure, can you do my shoulders and back?”
Her eyes widened as she layered on the lotion, three more, one of which was really strange looking.
“Where ya going tonight? Why? I mean, any special reason? Ooo, what are ya wearing?”
“Your Dad didn’t say. Said it’s a surprise. Yes, a special reason. I don’t know, one of those three,” pointing at three different styles and colors of dresses.
“Sure, if Dad didn’t give a reason though, does it matter what dress.”
“Well, I have a reason, so probably. Sure you want to know?”
“Uh, I guess?”
“Ok, well, then. Hmmm. Well, ya know, well maybe ya don’t since we haven’t really talked about it but your Dad, I mean I guess ya should know since your wanting ta do all this training and such, your Dad’s taken quite a few wounds and injuries over the years, and some of them have been pretty nasty, and well, some things he doesn’t remember too well until he’s reminded, especially stuff like in the past when he was younger.”
“I thought he could, ya know, heal quickly. And what does that have ta do with the question?”
“Well, he does heal quickly but sometimes not all the way. He’s still got lots and lots and lots of scars. And, well, today’s the anniversary of…”
“When ya guys met?”
“No, not when we met, the first time,” and taking a deep breath, smiling mildly in remembrance, “we had sex.”
“Ya remember that?” the teenager asks innocently.
“Oh. Yes…….very much so.”
For once, the teenager doesn’t react with a cringe or a sarcastic word. “I think ya need ta wear the red one then Mum.”
“I think your right, sweetie. Thank ya! Now the next question is which one of these,” holding up lacy black panties, “this thong, or nothing?”
“MUM!!!!”
Amelia’s cackle proved her satisfaction at embarrasing her daughter, perhaps to prove a point, perhaps just for fun.
They’d taken the boat, although she’d been annoyed about what it was going to do to her hair, but there really weren’t a lot of options at the moment unless they were going to hop on Alliance II and just appear somewhere.
So the boat it was, and she shivered slightly as the cooling fall hair wound it’s way over her glistening skin, although she could always snuggle into his radiating heat. Just thinking about that generated a flash of heat through her, as she watched him standing at the helm of the extremely expensive boat that they’d taken the first night they’d gone to dinner together with Olivia. She grimaced a bit at the thought, that may not have been the best first impression, but he’d survived.
As they slowly drifted some of the lighter port traffic of San Diego, she wondered idly where they were going, all he’d said yesterday was somewhere nice. It hadn’t been easy back on the base, where he was constantly reminded about the choices he made, but she wasn’t going to give up. She gazed at his muscular shoulders, his weight balanced perfectly as he guided the boat through the waters. They had a lot to work through, but….it was worth it. Last night ran through her mind, and even with the argument with Livy, it had been amazing. A long overdue honeymoon that they both deserved. Maybe they could find another nice stretch of beach tonight.
As if he could sense her watching him, he glanced back to where she sat on one of the seats, and her pulse raced at the flash of his white teeth in the permanently tanned skin.
He held out his hand as she stepped to the dock, and although she didn’t need it, even with these heels, she took it, the warmth of his grip arcing through her.
Even for a Tuesday night, this place seemed busy, but it was beautiful, although she wondered at the fact that hardly anybody else was on the upper deck, with the best view. A couple of tables, but as the host sat them down at the corner, it was a beautiful view of both the water and the cityscape as it lit up the heart of the skyline.
The silence grew long as they waited for the wine to be poured, and the first of the appetizers to be brought to the table. She picked up the glass, taking a sip, pained at the way he sat there, pensive, trying to control his features, but she could almost see the energy coming off of him in waves as he worked his way towards saying whatever bothered him.
It hurt her to see the damage that had been done to him, however, inadvertently by her decision to push him towards what she thought he wanted, even though they had both been betrayed and paid long and hard for it.
Right now, it didn’t matter, he’s smiling, however faintly, and this was his idea anyway, at least with some subtle prompting. She was showing off a little more tonight, and her body clearly glistened. Even her back. She didn’t know what had gotten into Livy today, especially after last night’s screaming, but she’d offered to help rub the lotion into her back and shoulders.
She watched him drink down a pint of beer, while she sipped a glass of red wine, and her smile dimmed slightly as she watched the fine tremors of his hand relax slightly as he tasted even the light alcohol of the beer. She didn’t know how it worked, because the alcohol, and yes, the drugs, or the nicotine had absolutely no significant affect on him, and yet he was an addict. She knew the signs. He was trying hard to cut back, for Livy she knew, more than him, but it wasn’t easy, she could tell.
As she sat there, she reached out her left hand, taking his right hand as he gazed out towards the sea. When she grasped his hand, he turned to look up on her, a distant look fading from his eyes.
“Brett, what is it, cowboy?” and she smiles at she utters the once lost but now re-familiarized nickname.
The warmth of her hand in his, he could feel the life beating through her arm, hear the calm thud of her heart, the……support that emanates from her, far different than the short months ago when she slapped him in the viewing box at that stadium in Port Hedland.
The old nickname sends warm currents running through his brain, and he smiles, calming slightly, before he blurts, almost stuttering in his attempt to get the words out, “Did you, you know, before, did we talk about things, stuff, plans I guess?
He sees her confusion in her eyes, and so attempts to clarify quickly, “I mean, a few weeks ago, at Safran Modestie, you said we did, but,” sighing deeply, “I guess what I am asking, I mean I know we talked about stuff, but did I actually talk about it, or did I just listen to you talk about it?” He’d pause again for a few seconds, and when she doesn’t answer immediately, continue, “Did I worry all the time? Was there stuff I wanted to do? Dreams? That we wanted? That you wanted?”
The waitress, of course, to his frustration, chose that time to arrive to take their orders, and she smiles nicely at her, before politely saying, “We are just going to enjoy our drinks at the moment, but if you could bring us the mixed shellfish appetizer, that would be quite lovely.”
The college student, “I so love your accent.”
Brett rolls his eyes, waiting impatiently for her to leave, muttering quietly, “Fuckin’ Americans.”
As the bottle blonde leaves, Amelia turns and looks at him, “She’s just doin’ her job, Brett, not everyone is out to get us.”
Smiling more widely at the reference to us, he squeezes her hand, leaning into her and kissing her lightly on the lips, but when she raises her hand to his cheek, she kisses back more passionately and for a moment they are back in Australia, young again.
As he relaxes back into his seat, taking a sip of the iced water in front of him, he watches her beautiful eyes as she appears lost in thought.
Thoughtful for a moment, curious as to where this was coming from, she smiles softly. “Of course we made plans. Big ones too! We talked about buying the old crofters house in Port Hedland or building our own in Boodarie. Sometimes we talked about adding on to yer mum’s farmhouse. Dreams? Sure. Dream o’ being safe. Dreams o’ laughing. And kids, crikey did ya’ want kids. I figure it’s why ya wouldn’t leave me alone mornin-noon-an’ night. Ya’ were so…ravenous.”
He smiles wistfully, although slightly confused, before leaning back into her, kissing her much more deeply this time, longer, and he slides his hand up her thigh, fingers beginning to slide under the hem of her red dress, as she shifts slightly, lips parting, allowing his tongue to flicker in, before she finally pulls back, flushing brightly.
He sits back, a little awkwardly, while keeping his right hand on her thigh now, lightly stroking her very moisturized skin, enjoying the slight shudder she makes. “At least that part hasn’t changed, I still want to ravish ya’ morning, day and night. Right now as a matter of fact.”
She smiles, laughing out loud, and then drinks most of the glass of wine in front of her.
“Amelia, I believe ya’ but I just have no memory of wanting to stay in Hedland……or even anywhere in Boodarie long term. Every time I think of home, I can smell the scents of the farm, now I can smell ya in our house that we rented, but then all I get is the burning desire to run, to leave, anger at my father. And I am sorry if I can’t remember, but did we ever want to be near your family.”
“Near my family? No. We wanted to make OUR family. The dreams were just of different places to do that.”
Then he says, “I’m worried…..about us, about ya.” But he’s smiling, if a bit sadly, when he says it.
“Not gonna lie, Babe, the worrying is a bit new. Ya were never as happy-go-lucky as Bryce, but ya definitely weren’t paranoid. Not like this. Cautious, sure. But ya didn’t spend every waking hour worrying about this an’ that.”
“Well, yea, but Bryce was fuckin’ nine when we got engaged…..so I’m not sure that’s a fair dinkum comparison.” He pauses, “But I’m not sure how ta fix that without….help.”
The waitress brought the massive platter of shellflish and sauces, some cooked, some raw and they both smiled when they saw the second platter of oysters. With another glass of wine, and a pint of some sort of dark beer they made nearby, they dove in, enjoying the fall breeze off the water, the setting sun, the food, and a love and companionship that had somehow survived the brutal interference, physical and emotional, of outside forces. Enemies, traitorous colleagues, and family.
His hand continued to stroke along her thigh, every once and awhile as they finished up the appetizers. Combined with the wine, its stoking a fire that she’s unsure how long she can wait to let burn. Between the missions, his cover identity, and, well their daughter, they hadn’t really had a chance to just be the two of them, alone, far from the eyes of family and former lovers, and as that thought crosses her mind, the fire cools slightly because her traitorous mind throws doubt forward. She knows he loves her too and she doesn’t think he would betray her, but he also hasn’t lied that he feels guilty and still desires that connection.
“What did I do now?” he says to her.
“What? Oh, nothing, nothing, just a bad memory.”
“How can I fix it, Bomber?”
“Some things ya just can’t fix Brett, let’s just let it go.”
He smiles doubtfully, somewhat hurt that she won’t share what she is thinking. It amazes her that he could ever fool anyone with his closed expressions, to her he’s an amazingly familiar map. She knows he wants to fix everything, to know everything, and there were just going to be some things he couldn’t know. Things that Dryse made her do, foul things. She shudders again as those images begin to take hold.
“Amelia, Amelia….Amelia,” and finally he kisses her, and for just a second she starts to push and pull away and then sensation rocks her as she feels the forked tongue as he forces it into her mouth, and then she throws her arms around him, kissing him back, breaths shuddering, heart racing.
“I’m so sorry, Brett…..I….” and a tear slowly leaks out of her eye. “I promised I wasn’t going to let this happen tonight.”
“Honey, I…..don’t know what’s wrong, let me help. Please, for fuck’s sake let me help.”
“I know……you are helping, just by being here. It was just a long fourteen years, cowboy, and that bloody wanker……was cruel at times.”
He hands her the glass of wine, and she takes a drink from the shaking glass. “Baby, we can go, if this is too much.”
“NO!” she says a little too forcefully. “No, this is beautiful. We need this. I need this. Let’s just order.”
After the waiter takes their orders, salad, soup, and of course, entrée, well, two for Brett, a chicken and a seafood dish with all the sides, which never ceases to amaze her or their daughter.
He sits silently and patiently for a few minutes, just holding her tremoring hand as she stares out to the waters of the harbor. As she’s calming down, the salads arrive so they 
both eat, although he eats much more quickly and every scrap as she lightly grazes.
Trying to change topics to bring back the earlier mood, he blurts out, “I found some old plans of the base in one of the old offices. I, uh, know it can be really boring on that base, especially for ya and Olivia, well, and anyway, I know that just those two barracks room joined together are kind of close quarters for the three of us, not that I mind, but I thought maybe we could, the three of us, build something a little nicer, more….permanent. I’d like your help at least, and it would be nice to teach Olivia some of that stuff. It’s really only one of two good memories I have of my Dad, him teaching Brij and me martial arts when we were younger, and then showing me how to build things. Until he became a drunk of course after Bryce was born.”
“But that’s short term, so what do ya want? Assuming this goes forward, assuming ya and Livy can tolerate me, what do ya want ta do? I have some banger thoughts, but, do ya want to throw in, with the Alliance I mean? I mean Hamilton and Apex do some cool shit, but whatever else this place is, what it might become, if it’s our home…..it needs defended. It needs organized, it needs supplies and people in charge of its defenses, especially when the Alliance is gone. Because of past…….issues, Titan won’t let Apex automatically control all of its defenses. What do ya think?”
After a slight pause, “But…..those are all my bloody ideas…..I want ta know what ya want.”
“What I want? Well that’s easy, Brett. I just want ya. If that means staying on the base, then I’m game. Ya want a house in the city, then sure. I got ya back. Never thought I would have ya again. I’m not looking for any more major changes. I’d be more than happy to act as a field medic or help in the infirmary if ya need me. But I don’t ‘need’ anything besides some alone time with you. Now that I’ll be a bitch about.” She laughs. “But for the most part, I’m right where I want ta be.”
“Are ya sure? I mean…..whether everyone realizes it, we need a lot of help. And if yer willing, well, I have some ideas. More than just medical…..at least if yer willing to dust off some old skills. I mean really about being on the base? Even with everything…..everyone else?”
“Well, it’d be nice ta have a bit easier way ta get on and off the base for me and Olivia, ya know, besides the boat ta the port…..maybe a smaller boat ta a nearby dock with a car nearby or something not too obvious.”
“If that’s all you need, I’ll get it done.
The soup had been absolutely amazing, some sort of spicy seafood tortilla soup. She hadn’t really minded spicy food back home, but it had always been a different flavor, style, more of a blend of various Asian tastes, especially from Indonesia and the Philippines. She never understood those who blasted off at the refugees from those lands who sought refuge in Australia, and while Port Hedland was fairly isolated, there was a large immigrant base for the mines and port facilities, so quite a few small counter type restaurants and she’d always taken the time to introduce her family to some of them. In her assumed guise of satisfied wife and mother, she’d volunteered at Hannah’s church, but also at the small refugee camp.
Its why she understood the same crap she had seen recently here in the United States, even though she had been much more isolated, the news was full of hate directed at others, although now at lot of it was at the evil HOMECONS. Although in some ways that was muted, because many of them could fight back, and they did have some allies. She gazed lovingly at her…..lover, she guessed. Although that really wasn’t an accurate description, given that she’d loved him for over fifteen years, and if he was right, if his broken mind could be trusted, his love for her had pulled him from the darkest depths of what those he, and she, had trusted had done to him and his siblings. She’d told him that he needed to let it go, but on occasion, she wanted vengeance just as badly as he did. A couple times over the last weeks, if she’d known how to get past the security protocols he had built in to keep their daughter out, she would have put a bullet in that raping, murderous bastard. Eventually she’d convince Brett that he had real power to help people, eventually, but that well of darkness in him had to be pushed back first.
She breathed deeply, grabbing Brett’s hand again just to reassure herself, before finishing off yet another glass of wine. Here she was trying to get him to calm down on the addictive substances, and she was halfway through a bottle of really fine, and expensive, red wine before the main course was even served.
She was about to ask him, when the next course did finally arrive, a very interesting 
special of the day, salmon, lightly coated in a Parmesan bread crumb crust, drizzled with a tangy garlic butter, combined with slices of Ahi Tuna. She’d never grown up with food like this, and even when her Dad caught fish or killed some denizen of the desert, Mum didn’t know how to cook it without breading it and frying it. High class they had not been. Hell, even bogans had looked down on them.
She smiled at the confusion of the waitress yet again, as she piled Brett’s dishes around him. Brett could eat less, and appear more normal, but it made him hungry, and while he could control it, it added to his edginess. With the other addictions somehow still running through his amped up body, he needed one that actually helped him. Besides, at least now he was eating a little healthier. It wasn’t that his body couldn’t just eat pizza all the time. She loved that Hamilton and Henri genuinely loved to cook, even if Henri still really wasn’t giving her the time of day, and while she did feel a bit guilty about the wrench she had thrown into the Alliance, and even felt a little sorry for the younger girl, she wasn’t giving Brett up again. There was just no way. She’d never thought she’d ever get a part of him again, even if he’d changed in some really strange ways, he was still Brett deep down inside. She just had to get all that darkness out of the way.
She cut a piece of the fish off, sliding it into her mouth, and smiled at the rough but creamy taste, and ate slowly, enjoying each bite and peacefully watched him rake through chicken piccata and a big bowl of spicy mussels, and waited for the next barrage of conversation. Long ago, it would have been free flowing, but now it seemed like he had to marshal up the courage and the organization, and then finally just let it vomit from him.
He looked up as he neared the end of the main courses, still picking over the grilled fresh 
asparagus that had come with the chicken he’d ordered and saw her smiling at him. It was still a little strange to see her hair bound up and not see blonde hair straggling to get free. It wasn’t that he disliked the brown hair, it…..just wasn’t how all his dreams had depicted her so it had been a surprisingly weird transition for him. Whatever color her hair was, she certainly wasn’t shy about highlighting her other assets tonight. He slowly licked his top lip with his tongue, looking directly into her eyes, and he could tell she knew what he was thinking as a slight flush started to spread across the skin above her breasts.
When the waitress returned yet again, she startled him for a second, as he had been lost in her eyes. Slightly annoyed then, he brusquely answered as a busboy cleared the 
plates, “Can we get the Tawny Penfolds ‘Grandfather’ Barossa – the one from Australia? We will be having dessert later but we’d like to be undisturbed until after we finish the port please.”
“Brett,” she starts to gently scold, whereas he actually interrupts, “Sorry, Bomber, but I think I prefer that one you tricked me into going that first night. They really knew how to be unobtrusive and still provide good service. Don’t get me wrong, everything’s been good, and of course the view I have is bloody amazing, especially the dual points of interest very near to my sight.”
She slapped his arm, but pleased nonetheless, and a wave of true pleasure roiled through him.
After the first glasses of port were poured by the sommelier, who had come by himself to pour and perform the scent and tasting ritual. “A truly excellent choice, my good sir,” he stated. Brett had now learned enough from Henri that the important part was the scent, and even with his senses, there was not even a hint of sour or bitterness. They drank quickly until both had consumed at least half a glass, he finally decided it was time to talk about what was really concerning him. Hopefully, it would not ruin the very pleasant evening they had enjoyed so far, and it truly was beautiful as he gazed around. It was full dark now, and the skyline sparkled over the water, the stars above, a light breeze chilled the air in the harbor, and the moving lights of a dozen different boats and ships at various distances made this seem like some sort of fairy setting. Amelia could certainly still drink with the best, but she was a bit flushed, and certainly relaxed by now.
“I know it’s only been a couple weeks since we moved back to the base and I asked Brant to train Livy And I know she’s doing great, and it’s all that I can do not ta interfere. But she needs more than just ‘training.’ She’s just thirteen for fucks sake. I don’t know what Brant thinks but everybody, including you apparently after talking ta Whitley, thinks its best that she is here, on this base. But why am I the only one that thinks this, while maybe not wrong, also has enough possible downsides to fill the Great Sandy back home?”
He paused…..and slammed the rest of the port in the glass and poured another glass, all the way to the brim, and Amelia frowned briefly as she watched.
“Doesn’t she needs kids, Amelia? Friends? Normal stuff, her racing that she is so good at? Even if that means more time with Bryce? How do we convince her of all that?”
“How do we get her all that? I mean I know we could home school her, but is that really the best thing? And I don’t mean that bloody Academy of Brant’s where those older kids are that Bryce keeps suggesting. They all have powers, and she doesn’t, they will just get her killed. She’s still just a damn kid and Bryce thinks she’s a fucking pet. I know he said he won’t take her out again, but this is all his fault. Damn it, she reminds me of Bridgette.” He sighs regretfully, pain and anguish leaking out in the aggressive tone he uses to fight for a vision of the future that he knows really isn’t possible.
“She needs normal activities?” Amelia laughs, a bit tipsy. “Ya do know she’s an Anderson, right? She had a chance ta do normal things before coming to the base. She had a chance to have friends and play dolls and do kid stuff. You know what she did instead? She raced motorbikes against boys two and three years older than her and won a big percentage of the time.”
“I know…..but I never got ta see any of it,” he mutters sadly.
She touched his hand in sympathy, “That was before she knew her father was a Superhero. That was before she knew her Uncles were Superheroes. She lives on a base with an entire team of Superheroes and gets ta train in combat tactics and martial arts.”
He sighs again, “I guess……I guess I want ta see her eyes light up when she talks to me……when she thinks of me. Not how awesome Uncle fucking Spyder the glory hound is. Not how awesome Uncle Bloody Brant is when he shows her how to beat someone with one of those bloody sticks. I want her ta think how awesome Dad is. I want her ta spend time with me. I want her ta have the……fun, the childhood….with me. Not her uncles. I don’t want to be…….my Dad.”
“Brett, Babe…….Cowboy……look at me.” When he keeps looking down at his hands, she reaches over, grabbing his face with both hands. “Look at me. What do ya think ’normal’ is ta her? You want her ta have fun. You know what she finds fun? The stuff you do.” She’d lean in and kiss him briefly on the forehead. “You want her to spend time with you? Teach her how ta infiltrate a secure location or tear down and rebuild an F88. She’s not gonna be a ballerina Brett. It’s not in her blood.”
“Are you sure? She seems angry a lot.’ Pausing, taking a deep breath, “I….I’d love ta teach her that stuff. I guess I just thought it wasn’t right for a thirteen year-old. Kind of figured it should be rugby and soccer, not sniping, weapons, demolitions and infiltration. What happens when what I taught her, what we taught her, isn’t good enough? What happens if English or the UDP or some random thug hurts her, captures her? I’m not sure I could survive that again. I thought ya were dead. I watched Bryce in a coma for six months. I’ve watched damn near everyone on this team suffer. I don’t know if I am tough enough to see her….suffer.”
“I can’t lose her. I just finally got her.”
They sit there holding hands, sipping port for a long while.
Taking a deep breath finally, Brett goes on, “I’m worried about Bryce. He doesn’t understand being burned out, he’s constantly patrolling, he doesn’t ever rest. It’s just not sustainable. I need ta figure out a way to get him to take a break, to consider everything. He can’t protect everybody. Nobody can. He doesn’t think about consequences. It’s all now, now, now, now. There’s always going to be crime or an emergency or pain or something.”
“I’m even more worried about Brant. He’s too….controlled.” He laughs almost manically at that, tasting the irony in such a statement by him, “It’s like he’s playing a role. I should bloody fucking know. I know nobody’s like what I remember, because my memories are broken, flawed, erased in cases. Did ya know he tried ta kill me? He was still working for English. And I know Whitley has helped him but……I know this sounds stupid, but what if that control is still buried deep inside. I mean, I know you didn’t see it, he lost it when we brought up going after Bridgette, that she might still being used as an experiment, for breeding or cloning or whatever. Why did he lose it?”
“Did ya ever see her…..after, I mean after……well, after she was changed I guess? Did she ever come home to see Mum? I went looking for her after we got Brant back, found some evidence that she had been alive in the two years prior ta that. In Texas of all places, then Florida. But the trail went cold.”
He realizes then that he’s just been spewing worry and pain into the remnants of their date night, and stops, smiling painfully at her, as she gazes at him with sympathy and, maybe, empathy.
“Sorry, ‘melia, I guess that this was more than ya bargained for at dinner tonight. I, uh, well, it’s just finally nice to talk ta someone who…..understands me, who loves me, who, I don’t know, who I can just talk too. Who doesn’t have some sort of superhero team agenda.”
She sits there for a moment, obviously debating what to say in response to his pain, “Ya know what I see? I see Bryce and Brant trying ta deal with the cards they’ve been dealt. Ya worrying about them isn’t doing anyone any good, most of all ya. While I love all ya Andersons, I’m a bit more fond of ya than the others,” she teases.
“I should certainly hope so, I mean, they were kids when we met, a bit young for ya, perhaps,” but he’s smiling again when he needles her right back.
She giggles a moment, but then more seriously, “When does Brett Anderson let Brett Anderson have some personal growth? You’re worried about me, and Livy, and Bryce, and Brant, and Nan, and the Paragon Center, and the Paragon Alliance, and a million other things. But what about Brett Anderson? When does he get some of your attention? Bryce has the Alliance and Brant has the Academy. What does Brett have? What’s Brett Anderson’s name on? Maybe’s it time to step back and pursue your wants and aspirations. It’s not a sin. I promise.”
He sits there for several minutes. “I don’t know what that would be, honey.”
By then they’ve finished the port, and the waitress returns, “Would you guys like any of the desserts?”
Amelia laughs when he orders six of them, but he knows she will taste them all, and then he’ll eat the rest.
“Having money sure makes eating like this a lot more pleasant,” he says.
For once, Amelia replies wistfully, “Yea, it does, but I’d have been just as happy if we never had the money and had all those years together.”
He leans in again and kisses her deeply, “We have each other now. Finally.”
After he paid for the massive meal, they left the restaurant, walking down the other side of the street, heading to a long boardwalk that paralleled the road and the harbor, nearly deserted this late on a Tuesday night, walking hand in hand, slowly, chatting quietly.
As they reached the middle, they took the little jetty that went about fifty feet into the water. When they reached the end, they stood watching a passing oil tanker in the distance.
“Those things are bloody huge.”
Brett says nothing in return, just standing there with her leaning back into him, his arms clasped around her.
He finally says, “I can’t believe ya guys are still really here.”
“Believe it cowboy. We are here ta stay.”
He sighs, “I do believe it. With ya and Livy here….. I want ta do better, I want ta be better. I know Whitley said she’d help, and she even started to a couple times, but it seems like the more she digs in my mind, the more hesitant she is. Which……scares me. What if I would do something to hurt ya. Or ta hurt Livy. I think I am finally coming to understand that I can’t fix the past…….as much as sometimes I want ta. But…..I think I need ta understand what I’ve done. The nightmares, the stress, the anger…….and yo’ promising ya’d help makes it just a bit easier to think about. I thought I would ask Whitley again….but I was also thinking maybe I……should see that Dr. Downs, even though he’s part of the nightmares now. Maybe individually, but maybe together too? Or Family counseling with Livy? I mean……ya see it in her too, right? I don’t know. She’s got ta have some issues with……Dryce and whatever,” not mentioning Courtney at the last second. “I just want ta do better. Be better. For ya, for her……for me.”
“Not a fan of shrinks, but if ya feel like it’ll help ya unravel some things that are missing – and more importantly, accept the things that you’ve already discovered – then I’m all for it. Before Livy and I are included maybe ya should get comfortable with this doctor. The last thing I need is for ya ta get your fur up because someone said something to me or your daughter that you took offense to. Get your head straight and I’ll be here ta jump in when the time is right.”
“Ok. I’ll start there. Although ta be honest, it terrifies me. I know the prison was just a telepathic construct….but……I almost accepted that I had hurt her. That monster nearly had me convinced.”
She turns in his arms, emphatically saying, “You are NOT a monster. Brett Anderson. I won’t let you be.”
Then she kisses him just as emphatically, a small moan of excitement coming from her as he puts his hands on her hips, stepping into her, and as his hands slide under the red material of the dress, he pauses from the passionate kiss, “Someone’s a little brazen tonight aren’t they?”
“Not yet. That’s just an open invitation, for when we get back ta the boat.” Brett takes a step back, turning in a quick circle, throwing all of his senses out, seeing an older couple a few hundred feet away, but headed in a different direction.
He steps back to here, grabbing her around the ass, kissing her deeply, urgently, then breaking for air, “Some invitations shouldn’t be left unanswered,” kissing her again.
As she closes her eyes, gasping, she feels him pull his head back again, but she’s a little too tipsy to quite grasp, “What?” but his genetically engineered physical improvements allow him to drop to his knees quickly, quietly, and the strength in his arms pulls her into him, and his tongue rolls out, and she gasps, “Oh, my bloody fucking oath, yes…….Yes…..YES.” She leans her hands back on the rail, and he picks her up with an ease that still shocks her but it allows her to wrap her legs around his shoulders, her thighs tight against his head as she rolls her hips, and his tongue driving deep into her.
When she finishes shuddering, he stands up, kissing her again. “I love doing that, Bomber.”
“God damn, cowboy you can do that all night long if you want. Let’s get back ta the boat.”
“Maybe not just yet. This isn’t exactly that rotten wooden bridge over the Turner River, but it’ll do, if you recall.”
With a throaty laugh, she kisses him wryly, hands loosening his belt, pulling open his slacks, pulling them so they start to slide off, sliding her hand onto him but he’s ready so she turns around, leaning onto the rail, and as he pushes her her dress up her back, she’s reaches through her legs, grasping his length before guiding him home.
As she gasps, “Let’s just…..ohhh, just hope that this railing doesn’t break…..hhhhhhhh.”
As the rhythmic sounds echo into the night, her screams echo out across the bay, until with one final gasp her whole body shivers, and he thrusts once more fully inside, holding himself there as he tremors, spilling into her.
He takes the boat out of the port, heading back towards Tempest Point, but she’s continues to kiss him, sliding her hands into the suit paints he is wearing, idly tracing her fingertips around him. “You better fucking hurry, cowboy, I’m getting a little impatient.”
She considers for a couple of minutes, continuing to idly caress him, then leans into and whispers into his ear, “I know you want ta find out what happened before, but I need ta make some new memories. Will you try?”
Confused, he answers, “Yesss, but what are ya talking about?”
“Look at me…..”and he looks down into her eyes, “I need ya tonight…….I need you in me in every way possible…..but….,” and he can see something horrific memory glazing her eyes…..
“”Amelia, we do whatever ya want, however ya want, whenever ya want…..or not at all ”
She looks back up and him and smiles, then slides the dress off her shoulders, standing before him as he helms the boat.
“Baby, I gotta get us out of the main shipping lanes so we aren’t swimming after some freighter hits us. Or one of those incompetent US Navy crews.”
“You make sure we don’t sink, but I’m going ta focus on this…..” and she kneels down.
He doesn’t last long enough to get them out of the shipping lanes, but he makes sure they don’t run into a freighter.
The boat rocks gently in the three foot swells, closing out nearly a perfect night on the sea a few hundred feet out from the coast.
She lays curled up against his massive heat, her head on his shoulder, wearing his unbottoned shirt as she sleeps. He shifts slightly, using his other hand to dig out the bottle from under his back, a nearly white bottle with Woo written on it, smelling faintly of fake coconuts. He tossed it towards the bow of the little boat, before settling back down. She’d been serious, having planted that little gem on board without him knowing about it, and although she’d seemed uneasy at the beginning, whatever horrors she’d been afraid of didn’t re-appear that night. New memories indeed, they’d never experimented like that all those years ago.
They’d been floating gently all night now, although only the last couple hours have they been fully asleep, but his internal clock has told him its getting close to daylight.
As false dawn slowly creeps over the mountains, he shifts slowly, starting to run his tongue over her neck, moving his mouth down to her breast, playing lightly with a nipple with the rough points of his forked tongue, using his fingers to slowly caress several spots, before using a finger and his thumb to enter both spots simultaneously. She’s wide awake and moaning now. Then he quickly moves on top of her, thrusting himself into her, and the boat starts counter-rocking to the action of the waves. Livy’s not here to get pissed off at the noise, so she screams her orgasms into the dawn sky.
As he lays spent inside her, “I’ve got ta get back soon, Livy has her first deep dive today.”
“Hmmm….ok.”
“I have one last question though. Have ya thought about….I mean, I never thought I’d see ya again, and I never really thought I’d be with ya and Olivia, obviously, I mean, I thought ya were dead. But….yer not…..and well, I mean, can we try for some more?”
“I’m pretty sore, cowboy, pleasantly so right now, but sure we can give it one more try……”
“No, I mean yes absolutely, but I meant . . . . . . more kids.”
“What? Ya want more kids? Are ya serious?” Caught off guard, she takes a minute to respond. When finally she does, her words are accompanied by a whimsical smirk. “Sorry, love. Amelia Brown is done having kids. Amelia Anderson? Well…who knows.”
He smiles. A real, true, unencumbered smile. Not a smirk. Not hidden, not guarded, not secretive or all knowing. Completely open, maybe reminiscent of another time, years ago.
He leans in, kissing her, before saying, “I always have loved a good plan.”
Last Dreams 