To Be Free Read online

  I take the plunge.

  I have to. Quinn, he just... he knew exactly what to say and how to say it. He knows of the pains and agony I've suffered, hasn't called me out on it as bullshit, and...

  Oh fuck, he's kissing me back.

  How did Meredith deal with this? How the hell does someone not go crazy with the amount of honest sincerity he pours into his kisses? All his passion, his trust, his understanding... I sob into it, unable to stop myself from shedding another bout of tears. Damn this man for making me a cry baby.

  Damn him for being everything I wanted when I was thirteen. Everything I'd wanted in Sarah.

  When I allow him to deepen the kiss, I almost regret it - almost, but not quite. He leans forward, the movement pushing me back slightly, but I don't mind; his left hand cradles my lower back, pushing me against him as I let him manipulate me, surrendering to him completely. I'm not afraid, somehow, of letting him control this. I'm not afraid of him.

  Carefully, testing the waters, he lies me on my back, breaking the kiss only once to breathe, and continues to do just that. Only that, but with the passion he's pouring into it and the way our mouths dance together, it feels like so much more. It feels like a piece of heaven, and he's passionate but slow about it. He takes his time, mapping every crevice out and exploring them anew once he's done and the need to breathe triumphs only in the way that we resort to open-mouths, my fingernails digging into his scalp as I grip his hair and his right tilting my head, his left trailing absently along my side, down my arm and repeating the process. He's leaning over me but... also not. Sort of off to the side, to give me the room.

  The room to back out.

  "You're going to drive me crazy," I huff breathlessly, breaking the kiss. He laughs just as short-winded as I, lips never leaving my skin and moving to my ear, nibbling gently. I turn my head to give him access to the area, submitting.

  "If you keep doing that, I'll go crazy," he groans. "No offense, but the way you're just letting me do this... it's kind of like what any virgin would do."

  "Fuck you," I spit, no venom in the swear. He chuckles, carding a hand through my hair.

  "Seriously, love," he starts lowly, and I bite my lower lip to hide my smile, though it escapes anyways, "if only you could see what I see."

  This time I laugh, turning my head back and catching his eyes.

  "I'd like you to see what I see, too," I say, and he arches an eyebrow. "I see someone whose eyes are so honest, so open, and whose kiss leaves me satisfied and wanting more."

  "I see the man I fell for," he replies, both hands now on my cheeks and refusing to let me escape his gaze. Then he uses them to hold his weight, still giving me the room to escape through my right side - that action alone makes me realize how seriously he's taking this, and how he's considerate even in the midst of desire. That he knows how big a step this is for me. "The sarcastic, hard-headed, happy, carefree man I've only glimpsed but adored nonetheless."

  "What about the other one?" I question. He smiles, lips an inch from mine again.

  "He can stay too," Quinn winks at me, but then kisses my lips in a gentler fashion. It's simply for the sake of the touch, not to invoke burning desire or pleasure, but simply for the sake of doing it. It's just a touch, with barely any pressure, but just as good as the first - if not better.

  Throughout it all, I can sense the compassion. He's not lying to me when he says all he wants to do is to help me heal, by whichever means I allow.

  I couldn't have fought all this even if I'd tried.

  Don’t Forget, You’ll Never be Forgiven

  QUINN

  There's not much light to see by as we continue down our chosen road through the tunnels, sometimes accidentally hitting a dead end filled with rotting barrels and broken wooden carts. Following the tracks turns out to be a horrible idea soon enough, so we just stick to the general northern direction and keep on walking through the darkness, right under their noses.

  Oftentimes we come across the sound of rats running through the tunnels, bats being disturbed by the lights and the noises we make - or lack thereof, I should say. Neither of us are speaking much, but we share glances every once in a while and a sheepish smile is exchanged.

  The smell of dirt is thick in the air, smelling of the earthy tones of the world we walk on and making me smile - as I've always liked the smell of dirt, especially after a rainfall; and the smell of time's lack of passing here as well, of undisturbed air and rotting wood, the occasional smell of rat pee and other such things. Sometimes a beady eye in the darkness ahead of us shines briefly, disappearing in fright, but even with our cloaks off to allow as much light as possible, we can only see about a meter or two ahead of us.

  After giving Seb the bundled-up cloaks to carry so that I can lug around the pack for a while and exchange burdens, the man grasps my wrist carefully, glancing around with his eyebrows creasing.

  "Lead me on for a while," he suggests, a strange hue to his eyes - kind of like an almost translucent membrane that's covered them, giving his eyes different shades of red - as they see things I can't. "Yesterday's starting to bite me in the ass."

  I nod my assent, continuing our trajectory as he follows my lead without another word. Sometimes he inputs a direction, telling me to turn a specific way as he watches the ghosts of the past walk among us, their ethereal imprints on this world. He describes it to me when I ask.

  Seb describes what he see's as a large tunnel lit up by gas lamps hanging from the ceiling, supported by the very beams we brush by, some having fallen over the decades. There are men and women alike smuggling alcohol through the complex system, using the rails at our feet to push the carts full of the illegal substance. The lull of conversation is amicable, friendly, and a little on the drunk side.

  Eventually, his hand slips from my wrist to my hand as he talks, his fingers threading through mine carefully, and biting back my smile I return the pressure he applies. He falters momentarily in his monologue, but continues soon afterwards as if nothing happened.

  The path starts running up on a slight incline, and when we reach the top we come out through a narrow path between two boulders, hidden by a thick willow tree spilling over the rocks in question. I help him through, and he offers me a smile, his eyes no longer shining with that strange hue.

  It's late afternoon, and the wind's on the mild side so it's a bit warm. The leaves here are changing colour at a quicker pace than those back south, though not by much. There are birds singing and cicadas warning about the heat, and in the distance I can hear the telltale sound of cars passing and the city life.

  "Where are we?" I question, and my companion shrugs as we linger in the seclusion of the ancient willow. There's a thin curtain of leaves shielding us from the rest of the world, and we hesitate in here, knowing that beyond that curtain lies danger.

  I drop the pack to the grass, deciding that we can afford the respite after endless hours in the darkness of the tunnels, wandering without pause, and he follows my example by leaving the cloaks on the bag. It's a strange sort of sanctuary here, the sunlight barely filtering in through the foliage and offering us its heat, giving this area a dreamlike state.

  Once I sit with my back to the trunk, leaning my head back against the bark of the tree, he settles with his back against my chest and looks up, towards the sky. Without needing a prompt, I pull him against me and wrap my arms loosely around his waist. Seb doesn't complain; he merely closes his eyes, head resting against my collarbones and sighs.

  "Thank you," he breathes, looking at me and offering me a satisfied smile. Lowering my head so I can kiss the side of his neck, I mutter a quiet inquiry as to the nature of his gratitude. "I'm still scared - petrified, I'll admit - and very, very hesitant about all this. But... I'm not scared.

  "I'm not scared of you, so I'm not afraid of the things you do. You've been treating me so kindly, so gently..." the man closes his eyes again and turning his head slightly, silently submitting once more and allowing me
free access to his neck.

  I don't take advantage of it. I simply tuck my chin against his shoulder.

  "You might just be able to heal me after all," he admits, and the thought of that makes me smile and has me hold him a little more tightly, although I make sure I remain loose enough for him to wiggle out if ever he decides he's had enough. I can feel his heartbeat, strong and sure, against my own. "Although, I do admit, your eyes are so honest they're almost intimidating."

  "In a good way or a bad way?" I ask quietly, turning my head to catch his eyes. When we lock eyes, he visibly falters and for a second he seems to be trying to find his train of thought.

  "I... I haven't decided yet," Seb laughs, and in response I kiss his skin lightly, enjoying how every small thing I do makes the skin of his cheeks darken. It bled down his neck earlier this morning, disappearing down his collar entirely. "Both, but bad in a different sense of the word."

  I chuckle, understanding what he's trying to say, and for a while we just sit there in the safety of the tree. The sun is our only witness, but right now all I desire is to hold this man against me, to hold him and show him he's safe and loved in these arms, and by God that's what I'll do. He doesn't complain, leaning his head back against my shoulder - the gesture still allowing me that enticing length of his neck, and however much I want to, I don't do anything. Holding him is enough.

  He knows this, I know he does, and his subconscious actions are permission enough for me to indulge in a few of these awakened desires, but I don't. His words are bouncing in my skull, the truth of his nightmares and the darkness of his past reminding me that he's truly seen hell. Seen hell and lived to tell the tale, and his actions are proof of his trust in me.

  I still want him to take those first steps, though. Show me when he's ready to do things, the same way I waited for him to kiss me this morning, and not claim those lips the way I'd wanted to.

  It really was worth the wait.

  Seb gives me these chances to sate a few desires, a lot more attuned to me than I'd given him credit for, and I think it means all the more to him that I'm waiting. Honestly, all I've done is kiss him. Kiss his lips, his neck and ran my hands along his sides.

  "If you're not careful," he starts, his voice reaching my ears sleepily. I realize them that he'd been falling asleep - and I, too, started nodding off in the afternoon heat, "I might fall."

  I smile, my lips against his neck, and the man settles back more comfortably against me.

  "I'll catch you," I vow, and with a quiet laugh we both listen to the allure of sleep, the heat making it unnecessarily warm and the bugs singing softly around us lulling us to our dreams. There we remain, lost in our own worlds.

  I wake to the sight of a spider hovering inches from my face, nearly the size of a tarantula.

  Naturally, I scream.

  Scrambling back, heart lodged in my throat and threatening to jump out, the spider shrivels up at the sound of my shout, and for a moment all I can concentrate on is the sight of its eight legs moving around, curling and uncurling as it struggles to hear again. The curtain of leaves from the willow tree parts, admitting a dripping wet, half-naked Seb.

  "Oh my fucking God," he sighs, his face the very definition of unimpressed as he looks from the spider to my face. I look at him, shocked awake, and the man crosses his arms and frowns at me. "You gave me a heart attack, you know that? I almost didn't put some pants on."

  Just what the hell was he doing?

  "There's a small lake not far from here, and I was getting rid of some of the dirt on me when you decided you wanted to confirm to half of fucking California that, yes, Quinn fucking Terry is petrified of spiders," he scoffs, rolling his eyes. "Honestly, if you're trying to win me over you're going at it in a strange fashion."

  ...that explains the dripping hair. He's quite honestly clad in nothing but his suit, only zipped up to about his pelvic bone and it's threatening to slip below that - I keep my eyes to his face, but this way his bones protrude even more prominently, the suit at least hiding that fact relatively well when it's on.

  I force myself to look at the grass, and with a breathless sigh I hear the man laugh quietly, shaking his head as he presses a hand to his forehead and the other on his hip. Seb walks over to crouch beside me, the suit slipping lower down his hips, and waits until I meet his gaze before giving me a bemused smirk.

  "Believe it or not, your technique is working," he admits, winking at me before he stands again and ties the arms around his waist, leaving it as is for now thanks to the evening heat. As he does so, he gestures with his head behind him. "Why don't you do the same? In the meantime, I'll conjure up something edible."

  Nine holds out a hand to help me up, which I take after a moment, and once I'm standing he smiles up at me. Then goes up on his toes and kisses me briefly, stepping back.

  "Once we eat, we'll keep heading north; we should hit the border in about a week, two if we run into a lot of trouble," he informs me, and walks over to the spider still chilling calmly from its thread, picking it up and releasing it near the entrance to the tunnels; it scurries off. "They probably think we're still in that area, though, so we should be fine - not to mention they're following three other false leads."

  With that he dismisses me, rummaging through the pack and leaving me to chance one last glance to his form crouching by the rucksack, the picture of concentration. There are drops of water running down his skin, mapping the contours of protruding bones and disappearing beneath the fabric of his suit.

  I pull out from beneath the tree, casting my eyes for this lake and seeking a distraction, something to help me think of other things. I feel like I'm fucking fifteen again, what with the raging libido.

  Finding the lake's shore not twenty meters away, I walk over to the secluded area and strip off my suit without a moment wasted, glad to finally be free of the constricting fabric. Sure, I'm used to it now, but it still doesn't really let your skin breathe the way it should. Finally, I step into the cool waters, wading in to my hips and sighing contentedly, the heat of the evening being chased off. Then I submerge long enough to wet my hair, and wade to an area I can float easily, treading water as I think.

  Is all this even possible? I've known the man a scattering of days, but it feels as if I've known him so much longer than that; as a matter of fact, if you would've asked me about whether not I believed in love at first sight I would've laughed you out of the room, but...

  Actually, I can't really call this that regardless. When I first met Seb, I didn't really feel anything except annoyance and grim acceptance of my fate being stuck Running with him. I'm not sure you could even call it love, not yet anyways, but there’s a potential that could blossom eventually. I mean, sometimes he just reminds me of Kenny, and sometimes he just does something so distinctly him that I can't help but think that I'd have to be crazy not to have fallen.

  The memory of that night comes back to me before I can even stop it, and once it starts I have about a snowball's chance in hell of pretending the memories aren't there and that they don't make me laugh and cry at the same time.

  I leave the small lake behind a while later, rubbing at my eyes and cursing whatever presides over my fate for what I've had to live through. For being plagued with his memory when it's never been my fault, I know that, but I still somehow feel as if I'm the one responsible for his death.

  I don't have much enthusiasm getting dressed, slipping on the suit to my hips before giving up and tying it off the same way Seb did, and slip back under the willow tree to find him stoking a fire and carefully watching the smoke, gauging whether not it's safe.

  When he notices I'm back, he looks at me and offers me a bright smile that disappears as quickly as it's come. Nine drops everything he's doing and stands so quickly he stumbles on his first step, coming to stand in front of me and holding my head in his hands, tilting it in his direction.

  "What happened?" he questions, genuine concern written in his eyes. At his touch my bod
y decides it's checking out for the day, my knees giving out and pulling me to the ground. He follows, never once breaking eye contact. "Quinn?"

  I lower my gaze, looking to the bead of water - or sweat, I don't know - trailing down along his chest.

  "Can I... tell you a story?" I ask, and he makes a sound the mixture of confusion and acceptance, tipping my head up again so I look at him. "Well, not a story per se, since it actually happened..."

  "Anything," he confirms, pressing his lips to my forehead and smoothing back my hair with his hands. "Come on, let's get settled by the fire, and you can tell me what's on your mind, okay?"

  Seb stands, taking both my hands in his and leading me up with him. He guides me all the way back to the fire, and we sit down side-by-side with a few feet between us and the fire. He takes my hand, playing with my fingers and waiting.

  I take a breath, and I begin.

  It was late. The moon was up and everyone was asleep, all the lights of the neighbourhood shut for the night and the people of Catchford tucked into their beds. I couldn't sleep, tossing and turning for what seemed like hours before I gave up and got up, pulling my laptop out and deciding to play a game for a while, to tire myself out. I can't even remember what it was called or what it was.

  Then my friend sends me a message on my phone, and it buzzes faintly against my thigh. I take it, and read what it says - the last thing I'd expected from Kenny, plain as day.

  Quinn can you come over something's wrong, something's gone horribly wrong.