FIC: In the Arms of the Wicked, 36/36 (Ian, OMC, OFC, PG-13)
Title: "Epilogue - How to Heal"
Series: In the Arms of the Wicked, Part 36/36 (last chapter of this series!)
Characters: Ian, OMC, OFC.
Rating: PG-13.
Spoilers: None.
Warnings: None.
Summary: It was time for Ian to heal.
Disclaimer: I don't own anything (characters, situations, etcetera) except my OCs.
Beta: The fantastic twins_m0m and the great lillyg.
Previous chapters: Click here.
Previous chapter
36: Epilogue - How to Heal
He made his way into the second cemetery he’d visited in a week. L.A. was as noisy and upsetting as he remembered, nothing like the calm, rustic Arizona landscapes.
It was there and he knew it. He’d refused to see this grave for years, but the last events and feelings he’d been through had made him realize that it was time for him to deal with this and hopefully, heal.
His eyes dampened as he came closer and spotted it. It was necessary for him to take a deep breath before reading the memorial he’d seen on Farrow’s laptop screen a few days ago. “Marah Edgerton, beloved mother and wife…”
Just the name managed to break him inside, but he’d never show it. No one needed to see the pain he carried in his heart. He had enough with his own demons to endure other people’s opinions.
He was a grown man, a sniper whose rifle and instincts were his best friends. Yet he also had the right and the need to let himself break in peace. No one was there to watch; no one was there to judge.
Looking at the place where his mother’s remains rested, he put his hands inside his pockets. Something was there, and it seemed to be some sort of thick piece of paper. Pulling it out of his pocket and looking at it, he saw it was Marah’s picture, the one that always appeared in weird - or maybe just the right - moments, the one that didn’t want to go away. It was also the one Ian couldn’t get rid of, no matter how hard he tried.
She’d been such a wonderful woman. Ian closed his eyes and realized that he could see her just the way she used to be. The smell of wine, the beauty of her horses, the softness of her curls, the strength of her voice. That would never go away. She’d always be beautiful and alive in his head, and right now, for once in his lifetime, that was okay.
A sound wasn’t supposed to happen. Ian was sure he was alone. In a reflex, he took out his gun, turned around and knelt beside Marah’s grave, waiting to find a thief or a punk that enjoyed attacking people’s memories in cemeteries.
The person he saw was the last one he expected to see. Astonished, he lowered his gun. “What are you doing here?”
Noah Cameron took a step forward, standing right in front of him. He looked like hell, but he was as confident and focused as the last time they’d met. “I could ask you the same thing.”
Ian breathed hard, not knowing how to react. On one hand, he wanted to walk away. On the other, there was nothing he’d rather do than beating Noah to death.
But he remained where he was, on the fresh grass, silent and playing with the trigger. He was ready to listen and react at any time if things got out of control. Alert, he didn’t put away his gun. He just couldn’t trust a man who could come out of nowhere. “Weren’t you under Protective Custody?”
In response, Noah threw a question at him. “Is that a picture of her?”
When Ian looked down, he realized that he was taking a firm grip on Marah’s little photo. He immediately put it back in his pocket, putting an end to that discussion.
Instead, Noah took a deep breath, looked up at the dark sky and finally into the sniper’s eyes again. “Ian… we need to talk.”
To be Continued...
Series: In the Arms of the Wicked, Part 36/36 (last chapter of this series!)
Characters: Ian, OMC, OFC.
Rating: PG-13.
Spoilers: None.
Warnings: None.
Summary: It was time for Ian to heal.
Disclaimer: I don't own anything (characters, situations, etcetera) except my OCs.
Beta: The fantastic twins_m0m and the great lillyg.
Previous chapters: Click here.
Previous chapter
36: Epilogue - How to Heal
He made his way into the second cemetery he’d visited in a week. L.A. was as noisy and upsetting as he remembered, nothing like the calm, rustic Arizona landscapes.
It was there and he knew it. He’d refused to see this grave for years, but the last events and feelings he’d been through had made him realize that it was time for him to deal with this and hopefully, heal.
His eyes dampened as he came closer and spotted it. It was necessary for him to take a deep breath before reading the memorial he’d seen on Farrow’s laptop screen a few days ago. “Marah Edgerton, beloved mother and wife…”
Just the name managed to break him inside, but he’d never show it. No one needed to see the pain he carried in his heart. He had enough with his own demons to endure other people’s opinions.
He was a grown man, a sniper whose rifle and instincts were his best friends. Yet he also had the right and the need to let himself break in peace. No one was there to watch; no one was there to judge.
Looking at the place where his mother’s remains rested, he put his hands inside his pockets. Something was there, and it seemed to be some sort of thick piece of paper. Pulling it out of his pocket and looking at it, he saw it was Marah’s picture, the one that always appeared in weird - or maybe just the right - moments, the one that didn’t want to go away. It was also the one Ian couldn’t get rid of, no matter how hard he tried.
She’d been such a wonderful woman. Ian closed his eyes and realized that he could see her just the way she used to be. The smell of wine, the beauty of her horses, the softness of her curls, the strength of her voice. That would never go away. She’d always be beautiful and alive in his head, and right now, for once in his lifetime, that was okay.
A sound wasn’t supposed to happen. Ian was sure he was alone. In a reflex, he took out his gun, turned around and knelt beside Marah’s grave, waiting to find a thief or a punk that enjoyed attacking people’s memories in cemeteries.
The person he saw was the last one he expected to see. Astonished, he lowered his gun. “What are you doing here?”
Noah Cameron took a step forward, standing right in front of him. He looked like hell, but he was as confident and focused as the last time they’d met. “I could ask you the same thing.”
Ian breathed hard, not knowing how to react. On one hand, he wanted to walk away. On the other, there was nothing he’d rather do than beating Noah to death.
But he remained where he was, on the fresh grass, silent and playing with the trigger. He was ready to listen and react at any time if things got out of control. Alert, he didn’t put away his gun. He just couldn’t trust a man who could come out of nowhere. “Weren’t you under Protective Custody?”
In response, Noah threw a question at him. “Is that a picture of her?”
When Ian looked down, he realized that he was taking a firm grip on Marah’s little photo. He immediately put it back in his pocket, putting an end to that discussion.
Instead, Noah took a deep breath, looked up at the dark sky and finally into the sniper’s eyes again. “Ian… we need to talk.”
To be Continued...