I wake up to a nauseating smell. Something is burning! I flail, not knowing where I am, until I realize I'm struggling with a sleeping bag. I pull its silky fabric over my nose, gazing wide-eyed at the underwear hanging right in front of me. A dark silhouette of a man crouches next to a patch of glowing coals, poking them with a stick. Something hisses and steams on these coals. The burning smell that wafts from over there is just awful, but it's not threatening.

It all comes back to me in a rush. Luca. The cabin in the woods. . And this is my husband, Ryan. He's... cooking?

"Ryan?" My voice is thick from the interrupted sleep. I choke on the fumes, but hold back the urge to vomit. Barely. It seems, I've been nauseated half the time since I've left on this damn trip. Morning, day and night...

"Trout! That's why the cabin is here. It's someone's fishing hole!" Ryan responds excitedly. "You're right in time for dinner, love. Or maybe supper?"

I sit up, clutching the sleeping bag over my chest. Yeah, there were fishhooks in the survival gear, so he used them. "Trout?" Another wave of nausea assaults me.

Ryan is so boyishly happy with the food he caught, I don't have the heart to tell him that even gourmet fish, prepared a-la mode, disgusts me. Trout from a mountain brook, burned almost to crisp to make sure it's cooked through to destroy parasites and full of tiny sharp bones, that smells like... eww.

Ryan blows on his fingers and swears, handing me his catch on a stick. Two more fishes are still sitting on the coals.

Instinctively, I lean away from his offering. "I'm too tired to eat. Please, have it all. You need it!"

"Naz," he says in a warning tone. "This isn't the time to play coy. It's almost midnight. We must eat and rest."

"Stop talking to me like I'm a damn toddler!"

"You aren't? Oh, good. Because I was going to ask you to open the hangar for this airplane." He pinches a bit of fish between his thumb and forefinger, and brings it to my mouth.

Before I know what I'm doing, I suck the flaky flesh off his fingers, even though I hate fish... but it's his fingers! God, I haven't kissed him in so long, and nobody deserves a kiss more.

His face breaks into a sheepish grin, a merry twinkle in his eyes from the unsteady light of the stove.

This is adorable... until the revolting taste fills my mouth. My spine stiffens. There's no way I can force this down! Saliva floods my mouth, the sick roils my gut. I jump to my feet, pressing my hand tightly against my lips. Please, Lord, let me hold the terrible stuff in until I dash out of the door half-naked and barefoot.

For once, God answers my prayers. My innards hang in there for just long enough. Once outside, I bend over, spitting out fish mixed with bile. It hurts. I stumble to the pool to wash my mouth, ignoring rough footing. Actually, I wouldn't mind dipping my whole head in.

Through the haze of sickness and splashing water Ryan's panicking voice calls out to me.

"Naz, dammit, are you alright? Where are you? Did you choke on a bone? Naz? Naz?!"

My response is a weak-ass whimper in comparison. "I'm by the pool. I'm okay, I just couldn't stomach the fish. Never could... Sorry?"

"Jeez, Naz, you freaked me out. Why do you always have to freak me out? Are you allergic or something?" He silhouettes against the darkness, his arms treading air like water.

"I'm not allergic, but I hate it. The smell, the texture, the slimy skin... eww." Another wave of nausea comes up just talking about it, but it's not so bad. I gag and cradle my belly. "Look, I know we have to eat, but I can't do fish. I'd rather chew bark."

This is some epic quality spoiled brat shit.

Unfortunately he must think so too, because he expels a deep sigh. "The night is young. I still have time to weave a snare out of your hair to catch you a boar."

He has washed up, caught the blessed fish, cooked it and rushed out into the night after me, when he's blinder than a bat. Well, bats are peachy at night, actually, but anyway. Ryan isn't, particularly without his glasses.

"Seriously, I'm not hungry. Let me walk you back to the cabin." I wiggle my bare toes. Sprains, breaks, cuts, the whole panoply of injuries flashes through my mind. I've dodged some bad shit thanks to the plain dumb luck. "And, I'm sorry. I was stupid to run in the dark."

"Monumentally so."

"Like you were any better."

"That's because you freaked me out, Naz."

"Does it bring you a small measure of joy to repeat this?"

"Now that you've mentioned it... yes. Yes, it does."

"I promise that the next time I need to throw up, I'll do it in the spotlight. Now, don't move, I'm coming to you."

He lets me do just that. All the tough roots, sharp rocks and brambles that I've leaped over in my haste to get rid of the blessed trout place themselves into my path to Ryan. Their revenge on my feet is brutal, but I never stop once. A curse, a cuss and a thousand swears later, I bump into him. The beautiful idiot didn't just rush out after me. He dragged the sleeping bag along. And he drapes it over my naked shoulders.

"Thanks." I rub off the goosebumps that popped out despite the warmth emanating from the crinkled waterproof material. The word feels so sweet, I want to say it again. I'm so tired of bickering with him. "Thank you."

I grab his hand, and we walk hand in hand like lost children. The total distance traveled is fifty yards, but it's like walking on broken glass for me. He can barely see. It's the lame leading the blind.

"We really should smarten up," I mutter.

"Uh-huh. And fast."

I don't know if he means this walk or our whole life.

Once we're safely inside, the last spark of adrenaline winks out. The bone-crushing weariness mows me under again. I snuggle even tighter into the sleeping bag and plop onto the frame to sit with my eyes staring, but uncomprehending. Our laundry's drying, the coals flicker red and Ryan chews fish. He hooked three specimens so scrawny that the pile of their tiny bones seems bigger than they used to be. Made more imposing by death and roasting. That's life for you...

A sob wrecks my body with no warning.

Ryan's dark-haired head lifts from his methodical consumption of the nutrients. "Do you need more antiseptic, sweetie?"

It's not the cuts and bruises that hurt. "You're eating. You're alive," I manage to say between the sobs.

It's not much of an explanation, but he agrees softly. "I am."

"I would have never slept with Luca, if he didn't have you." The goosebumps that should have disappeared in the stuffy cabin multiply instead, crawling up my spine and thighs. My head drops onto the knees I press into my chest. A hug of sorts or a lid on a teapot.

"I know," Ryan says.

Two simple words, and he says them so calmly that I have to straighten my tired neck and peer into his face. It blurs into a pale oval through the veil of tears.

"He would have killed you. Luca would have killed you. Not Scali." Not that Scali would have filled his pockets with gold and sent him on his merry way. But this calculated, cowardly method to kill smacks of Luca. "You're right about the brakes. It was Luca."

"I know." He gathers the trash and feeds it to the coals.

The stench of burning fish-bones chokes me up, so I stop talking. He knows anyway... so I curl on the wooden planks, cocooned into our sleeping bag. He knows. He doesn't care.

Ryan doesn't hurry to my side. He gurgles water in his mouth, then scrubs his hands like he's a surgeon. Only then he stretches next to me. The wood groans under his heavier body. He finds and squeezes my shoulder. "You weren't the only one trained to do whatever it takes to get the job done, Naz. In that, we're not so different."

I nuzzle my wet face into his neck. He's shirtless, all warm skin and tickling hair under my cheek. And, more importantly, the rhythmic beat of his heart. It counts the seconds of this night, and will go on counting tomorrow, and the day after that... I hope.

His fingers thread through my hair, lifting them up, untangling the knots, then letting them spill back down. "I don't know how to say it without cheapening it, but being here is better than laying face down in a ditch somewhere. The way I see it, you fucked Luca, but you didn't cheat on me."

"Thank you. I'm... I'm..." I sob instead of words. The relief is tremendous. "Oh, Ryan... Ryan..."

"Naz." His heart speeds up in my ear. "Naz, are you not telling me something?"

Plenty...Well, no time like now. Let the confession season begin.

"I wasn't different from that girl." I almost call her 'Pansy', but stop. If I demand respect for myself after what I've done, after falling for Luca's so hard, after spending my entire life proving myself to wrong people, I must give respect back. "Amber. That girl Amber."

His free palm circles my back, massaging the stiffness away. "Naz—"

I jerk my head to stop whatever he wants to say. "But no more, Ryan. No more."

His fingers slip out, but I replace them where I like them. Quietly, bitterly, I fill him in on Luca's revelations. The tears dry out, because what's there to cry about? The past will bury its dead.

"I know it's not good enough for you, but I'm out. I'm not going back to my family for revenge, for explanations, not even for money. All they can give me is derision. So, I'm out."

"And it's not good enough for me how?"

"Your kind always wants the payment in full. A criminal should be in jail."

His hand stops in the middle of the caress and drapes over my shoulders. "Let's just say my morals have become much more flexible since the Bureau."

"Since the Bureau? I thought it was me who corrupted you."

A small chuckle puffs his warm breath into my hair. "You might have accelerated my slide to the gray zone. I'm also a changed man."

"That's great." The way he holds me, tighter yet gentler, stops my heart. What if not all is lost? But no. He didn't call Hannah after they'd parted ways, and she was a nice girl. So I swallow my stupid, mad hope. Swallow the memory of how I never feel alone when I'm with him. I even swallow my want for him to love me. "If I'm out for good, Ryan, this means our deal is off. Maybe... maybe I'll see if Google is hiring once we see this nightmare through."

That heartbeat, these low rumbling chuckles! I can listen to them all night, every night, forever.

"How about an almost bankrupt PI/repo business? Each self-respecting noir detective needs a blonde bombshell as a partner."

My toes curl. "Please, tell me you're not stupid enough to return to L.A. What the Tangorellos will do to you—"

"—doesn't bear thinking about," he finishes my thought and pats my back. "No worries, I'm not setting foot in L.A. But I'll need to make a living, wherever I'll end up. And my talents run toward borderline legal and borderline broke. So... What say you? Coming with me?"

I can breathe so freely it's insane. The world bursts into color, Disney-style. Why aren't bedbugs and scorpions emerging from the bedframe in an impromptu dancing number? I'm ready to lead the chorus! All my hopes are instantly revived, spinning the room.

"Yes!" I hear a trilling laugh... Is this me? The real me? Gotta be me, because I doubt Ryan trills like this even if his heart sings too. "But if I'm your partner, you'll have to reconcile yourself to success."

His lips brush my temple. "As long as it's a very modest success, I can live with that. I guess."

"Deal," I murmur, closing my eyes, rubbing my forehead against his. "A mediocre, barely worth mentioning, marginal success."

In another place, at another time, with someone else, I would have caught the butterfly of the exhale with my mouth; ground myself against the hardened flesh. I would have arched until his hand would have no choice but to slip off my back and unzip my jeans, while my fingers freed him.

And sex would cement our relationship in place as the fuck buddies, and I no longer think of him like that. I want more.

I want everything.

I snuggle in his arms and close my eyes with a contented sigh. We're staying together, so Ryan and life give me a chance to win what I want. If only we didn't have this major mountain range and a heavily guarded border between us and our salvation, my life would have been perfect.

But I'll take it. I'll take it, for as long as we live there's hope for more. Even everything. Right?