Lux guarded a small basket of strawberries, still sitting upon the soft grass before the boulder that had become her sanctuary in a world so startlingly perfect that she found herself struggling to stay grounded in reality. But in the heavy uncertainty that she wasn’t sure if she deserved this small piece of heaven, was peace and warmth and a smile that burned brighter than it had in years. She watched Harper with patient admiration as she sat before her with a lap full of wildflowers, meticulously tying them together, stem to stem. Every other knot snapped the fragile flowers and was followed by a quiet, "Dang it."
But eventually, after a handful of minutes and a few more trips for additional dandelions, Harper finished the flower crown. She shuffled to her feet, tongue still permanently peeking out of the corner of her mouth as she leaned forward and placed the wreath of wildflowers on top of Lux’s head. It was wonky and missing half of its petals because of her less than gentle grip. But even in its imperfections, it suited her perfectly. Golden flowers rested upon golden hair, bathed in the soft amber glow of sunlight that slipped through the shadows. It was delicate and fragile in a way that Lux rarely let herself be. She was hardened and worn from years on the run, a predator turned prey… a warrior out of necessity. But in that quiet serenity of the valley, beneath the radiance of one child, she felt more like herself than she had since she fled Montana.
Harper adjusted the flowers a couple times, then fixed Lux’s hair, smoothing out wild knots that remained from the chase through the rain and intentionally pulled small locks from behind her ears so they rested along her temple and cheek. It was only when the girl was satisfied that her smile returned, bright and beaming. "There!" She clapped her hands, pleased with her handiwork.
Lux laughed softly, but before she could respond, a voice tore through the field with the loud unbidden delight only a young child could possess. "Harper!"
Both girls turned toward the call. Harper’s smile somehow managed to grow, stretching ear to ear, glowing bright through gap teeth and freckled cheeks like her favorite person in the world had arrived. Lux’s gaze though didn’t land on the young boy, but the man alongside him. She didn’t know who she expected, but nothing could have prepared her for Beckett to be a willing tag along. He was being pulled hand in hand—more like dragged—nearly tripping over his own feet as he tried to keep up and his attention was solely fixed on her. Gods, he was smiling.
His gaze alone stole the breath from her lungs, not from the confession that lingered on the edges of a conversation she promised to give, but from the unguarded way he seemed happy to see her. That one single look undid her completely, the resolve and strength of her armor shattered and crumbled around her. Where she normally hid beneath the shadow of their mutual disdain, she was now unburdened in the light of the sun, exposed and vulnerable.
Despite the anxiety that coiled in her chest like a serpent, her smile remained. It was soft like something fragile and rare that had been locked away for safe keeping, authentic in a way she never had the luxury to be around him. Because it might genuinely have been the first time she saw him without fear or resolute bravery behind his eyes. He wasn’t clouded with strategy, fighting for his life, covered in blood, or terrified from his dreams. It was just him... Pure and real and here. And while she saw the future her life could hold at that small piece of paradise nestled in a valley of strawberries and orange t-shirts, it wasn’t until she saw him looking back at her and smiling that it felt like… home.
"Elliot!" Harper squealed, dropping everything to run full speed at the young boy with the same level of excitement, curls bouncing and arms extended wide like she was preparing to give the biggest hug of her life.
Lux laughed softly, watching the kids all but tackle each other like they had been kept apart half of their lives. Their infectious laughs filled the air around them as her gaze found its way back up to Beckett who stood tall a handful of feet away, haloed in the golden glow of the late afternoon sun. Her heart hammered so hard against her ribs that she trembled as she drew in a breath. "Hi." Her voice was quiet like a feather dancing in the whirlwind that stirred around them from Harper and Elliot.
Somewhere in the vacuum of time lost from the eye contact neither one of them could break free from, a bouncing ball of pigtails and freckles materialized beside Lux. Alongside her hidden beneath a nest of black curls and a familiar neon pink bandaid was the young boy. But where his hand was once latched to Beckett’s, it was now locked with Harper’s. His face was a confused mix of elation and frustration, but he didn’t seem to be in a rush to pull away either. The little girl went to speak, but paused mid-breath with her mouth opened wide, looking back and forth between Lux and Beckett like the final puzzle piece slipped into place. "Is he the boy?" Harper asked openly, pointing her free hand at him for extra measure.
Heat bloomed across Lux’s cheeks, immediately finding herself looking anywhere but up at him like her secrets have been laid bare at the whim of an unknowing and innocent child. Her smile wavered, but it was still persistent, lingering around the edges and in the warmth behind her eyes that refused to fade. She gave a small nod as her hands busied themselves by tugging at the frayed thread on her jeans.
"Harper, this is… Beckett." She motioned up toward him as her eyes slowly, and somewhat reluctantly, followed until she met his gaze once again. "Beckett, this is Harper," Lux continued, attempting to push past her nerves and finish introductions. "My new best friend," she added with a small, guilty curve to her smile.
Harper giggled and bounced enthusiastically. She then quickly stepped forward, using her free hand to adjust the flower crown and tried to straighten her hair once again with a fierce determination, like the wind was her true mortal enemy. "Isn’t she pretty?" The girl beamed, as her little hand pressed against Lux’s cheek, turning her to face Beckett. "Like a Princess!" She nodded her head like a little evil genius watching her carefully laid plan unfold, proud of herself because there was no way in the world that a boy didn’t think she was pretty. That would be crazy.
For a split second, Beckett nearly forgot how to walk. The sight of Lux, sunlight folding around her like it had decided she was something worth lingering over, hit him harder than any blow he’d taken in the woods. The flower crown sat crooked on her head, dandelions missing petals, stems bent and imperfect, and yet it looked like it had always belonged there. She was smiling, really smiling, not the sharp, defiant curve he was used to, but something soft and open and unguarded, and the tension he carried in his shoulders eased without him noticing until it was already gone. His chest warmed in a way that felt almost dizzying, a flutter low and unfamiliar, and as he took a few steps closer he realized, with a quiet certainty that startled him, that they weren’t leaving this place. Not if this was what safety looked like on her. Not if this was how she could exist.
He stopped a few feet from her, sunlight catching in his hair and along the seams of his sweatshirt, and for a moment all the words he’d rehearsed to say to her, about her quick exit, the lost memories, dissolved into nothing. His mouth opened anyway, reflex more than thought, and what came out was almost embarrassingly simple. "Hi." He echoed her, soft and dumb and honest, and his smile widened despite himself, tugging at the corners of his mouth until it felt like something real instead of a habit. He wasn’t thinking about monsters or scars or the way his body still ached; he was thinking about how peaceful she looked, how right it felt to see her like this, and how fiercely he wanted to protect that light without ever dimming it.
Harper’s voice snapped him back to the present before he could sink too far into the feeling. Beckett blinked, his gaze dropping from Lux to the children clustered between them, as if only now remembering where he was and who else occupied the world. Harper stood proudly at Lux’s side, chin lifted like she’d accomplished something monumental, while Elliot hovered close, still clinging to her hand with the stubborn loyalty of someone who had no intention of letting go. Beckett’s brain lagged a beat behind his mouth, and before he could filter the thought, he answered the girl’s question without hesitation. "Yeah," he said quietly, sincerity threading every syllable. "She is."
Elliot reacted instantly, outrage sparking like a match. He tightened his grip on Harper’s hand and scowled up at Beckett, curls bouncing as he shook his head hard enough to make his opinion unmistakable. "She’s not prettier than Harper," he declared loudly, indignation ringing clear as a bell. "Harper’s the prettiest. Everyone knows that." He huffed as if daring Beckett to argue, even as he stubbornly refused to move an inch away from her side, loyalty warring with wounded pride on his small, expressive face.
A feverish heat bloomed across Lux’s cheeks, making her face nearly as red as the basket of strawberries still nestled in her lap. Three simple words, weighted with his unguarded smile and a sincerity that felt almost foreign and unearned, undid her all over again. She wanted to look away but selfishly, she wanted to relish in his gaze for as long as he kept it trained on her, like a tender offering so rare that she sank into it, just to savor one more second. She wanted to—had to say something, but her brain was struggling to find the words. Her lips parted, a sentence forming… Only for Elliot’s sharp disapproval to cut through the silence, severing the silence and pulling her gaze away with a surprised, and slightly trembling laugh.
Beckett startled, then let out a quiet, surprised breath that might have been a laugh if he’d trusted it enough to make sound. He crouched slightly, lowering himself just enough to meet Elliot at eye level, his expression softening in a way that felt unfamiliar but right. "Ah," he said, nodding with exaggerated seriousness, as if Elliot had presented an airtight argument. "That makes sense. Can’t argue with facts, kid. Though…" The corner of his mouth twitched, amusement flickering through his eyes as he glanced back at Lux, warmth settling deeper into his chest at the shared moment. "I’ll let you have this one."
Straightening again, Beckett let his gaze linger on Lux just a heartbeat longer, taking in the way the crown sat on her hair, the way she belonged in this place more than either of them had dared hope. The valley hummed softly around them, children laughing, leaves stirring, life continuing without fear, and for the first time since the world had turned sharp and cruel, he felt something like certainty. This wasn’t just a pause between disasters. This was a beginning. And standing there in the sun, with strawberry fields at their backs and children arguing over who was prettiest at their feet, Beckett knew with absolute clarity that if Lux stayed, so would he.
The way Beckett was with the children was endearing in a way Lux couldn’t put into words. While her feelings for him had consumed her over the past couple months, there was a new fondness that blossomed in her chest as she watched him settle into camp like he had always belonged here. There was something fragile, almost sacred about it. She wasn’t a God, but as long as it was within her power, she’d do everything she could to keep him there, in that valley. If only to be able to preserve that soft piece of him that had been buried behind the soldier.
Lux was content to let the light shine down on Harper, whose toothy smile curved nearly ear to ear as her freckles disappeared beneath a flush so rich it rivaled her red hair. The girl beamed like she could fly if given the chance. There was something about the brazen honesty of children that could humble or bolster someone. She couldn’t help but smile and watch affectionately as Beckett lowered himself to their level and conceded. Until… his gaze found her again. His words lingered in a silence between them as if, for just a moment, he was tempted to argue for her benefit. Children be damned.
That one look stole her breath.
She blinked and cleared her throat, forcing herself to inhale. Lux’s smile grew, just a fraction, just for him, before her gaze drifted back over to Harper. "He’s right," she agreed warmly as she leaned forward and tucked one of the young girl’s curls behind her ear. "Your mother is Aphrodite. You can’t fool me." She lightly poked the girl’s side, if only to make her smile grow brighter.
Harper snorted out a playful, bashful laugh. "Noooo…"
"Harper!" the woman standing in the strawberry field called out.
The girl’s curly pigtails bounced as she looked over her shoulder toward the waiting woman, then back at Lux. "I have to go." Harper’s smile faded a little at the edges, but the prospect of a new friend and Elliot’s hand still in hers kept her light glowing despite it all. "Lux, can you come back tomorrow? I can show you how to tell when a strawberry’s ripe, and how to harvest them, and water them, and I can show you around camp afterwards." With every word she bounced expectantly at all the possibilities of how the girls could spend their day.
Amusement sparkled behind Lux’s eyes as she followed every expressive bounce. "Of course. Wouldn’t miss it."
Harper squealed and dove at her. She wrapped the blonde in the biggest and tightest hug her little arms could manage. Lux laughed, involuntary and warm like the first light of spring after a long and cold winter. She returned the embrace, feeling a knot tightened in her chest at the realization that… She couldn’t remember the last time someone hugged her. Maybe her grandfather? The gesture rested heavily in her chest, forming a lump in her throat. She looked up at the clouds that passed overhead, blinking away the tears that threatened to form, but didn’t dare pull away. She only loosened her hold when Harper chose.
It was only a few seconds, but it felt like an eternity to Lux. A small act of kindness that mended one of her numerous cracks, reminding her that life wasn’t always cruel and unforgiving.
Beckett stayed where he was, rooted to the grass as if moving might fracture the moment. He watched the way Harper launched herself at Lux without hesitation, all small limbs and unfiltered devotion, and how Lux’s body startled before softening, before folding into the embrace as if she hadn’t realized how badly she needed it until it was already there. The sound of her laugh, bright, unguarded, almost disbelieving, rang through him in a way he couldn’t shake, echoing somewhere behind his ribs long after it faded from the air. And then he saw it, the way her gaze tipped upward, the quick blink, the shine that gathered at her lash line like a tide she refused to let spill. Something tight and unfamiliar closed around his throat at the sight, a pressure he didn’t know how to swallow down.
It struck him then, quietly and mercilessly, how starved she must have been for simple kindness, for touch that didn’t come with fear or urgency or the promise of loss. He wondered what it would feel like to hold her like that, not in the chaos of survival or the shadow of death, but here, in the open, where the sun warmed skin and laughter came easily. The thought was gentle and dangerous all at once, blooming in his chest with a tenderness that made him ache. Beckett drew a slow breath, steadying himself, eyes never leaving her as Harper finally loosened her grip. He didn’t reach out, didn’t step closer, but the wanting settled deep, patient and undeniable, as if it had decided it could wait.
Harper was still smiling uncontrollably as she pulled away, taking her basket along with her. She only made it a single step when her gaze fell to the bright red berries resting within the wicker weaving. She gasped, as if she had almost forgotten. It was only then that she stole her hand from Elliot. She set her basket on the ground and got the biggest scoop of strawberries should manage—about six of them. She hurried back over to Lux and dropped them into her palms. The girl’s face contorted and scrunched as she tried to wink, but ended up flashing an oddly forced blink. She giggled, then quickly scooped back up her basket in one hand, and Elliot’s hand in her other. "Come on, Elliot!" she beckoned him, giving his arm a little tug before running back towards the fields.
Elliot’s face crumpled the instant Harper let go of his hand, lips pushing forward in a dramatic pout that lasted all of half a second before she snatched his fingers again, and the expression melted into something impossibly soft and pleased. Color bloomed high on his cheeks, a grin breaking through that he didn’t even bother to hide, all gap-toothed and earnest in the way only children could manage without self-consciousness.
He stumbled a little as she tugged him along, then caught his footing and huffed, trying very hard to reclaim some dignity even as his grip tightened around hers. "Hey—hey! You’re pulling too hard," he complained, voice petulant but bright with laughter as his feet kept pace with hers anyway, betraying the lie immediately. As they took off toward the strawberry fields, he twisted at the waist just long enough to fling an enthusiastic wave back at Beckett, curls bouncing wildly. "I can show you stuff tomorrow too, see ya later, Scary!" he called out over his shoulder, as if this were already a settled plan, before turning forward again and letting Harper drag him off without another word. Beckett lifted his hand in return, smiling wide and easy, a snort leaving him at the nickname, the sight of them running ahead together settling something warm and unexpected in his chest.
Everyone loves strawberries. The words replayed as Lux’s gaze fell to the ripe fruit cupped in her hands, like a fragile gift given for one purpose and one purpose only. Her gaze flicked up to Beckett, just for a second, before she looked back towards the retreating children, all sunshine, curls and indomitable will.
As the kids ran off and they were left alone, the rest of camp felt like it faded away. Lux swallowed and her chest heaved from the return of her unsteady breaths as the anxiety slowly crept back in. Had they ever even had a conversation without Violet lingering around the edges? Have they ever been alone together? The thought made her nervous, for reasons she couldn’t quite put a finger on. But even still… her smile remained, like a stubborn reminder through the nauseating wave of emotions that she wanted him here… that she wanted him near.
"You’re really good with them…" She nodded her head toward Harper and Elliot who laughed and frolicked around the legs of the woman in the straw hat. Lux’s gaze slowly found its way back up to where he stood a couple feet away, a distance that felt multiplied without the small excited bodies there to bridge the gap. "It’s sweet," she confessed quietly, like the words were too fragile to say above a whisper.
Beckett slipped his hands into the pockets of his pants, fingers curling there as if he needed the anchor, the familiar pressure to keep himself steady. He took a half step closer without thinking, then another, until the space between them thinned to something fragile and electric, their shoulders nearly brushing as he sat beside her. He kept his eyes on the children, on the flash of curls, the swing of small arms, the way laughter seemed to lift straight into the sky, because looking at Lux felt like too much all at once. His smile stayed, stubborn and unguarded, refusing to falter even as he felt her tension ripple beside him like a held breath.
Lux’s breath caught in her chest as the space between them started to shrink until he sat upon the grass beside her. The air in her lungs was stubborn in the way that it wouldn’t slip free but just lingered there like if she let it out, the illusion would be washed away, and she’d wake back up in the rain, kneeling over his unconscious body. The memory of her nightmare flashed, just for a second when she blinked, but it was enough… too much even. She spared him a quick sidelong glance, as if she had to be sure he was here and real and alive. There was a second where she would have reached out and touched him, just to be certain, but the strawberries weighing down her palms kept her from acting on impulse. So instead she focused on breathing, in and out, as she looked down at the berries still cupped in her palms.
"You’re pretty good with them too," he said quietly, the words carried on something gentler than confidence, more like truth discovered by accident. He didn’t turn to look at her when he spoke, afraid that if he did he’d see something in her eyes that would undo him completely. Instead, he watched the strawberry fields glow under the sun, watched Harper spin in a clumsy circle and Elliot try, and fail, to keep up, and felt something warm loosen in his chest. It was strange how natural it felt, sitting there like that, as if he’d been holding himself rigid for years and only just now remembered how to breathe.
A beat passed, unhurried and full, the kind of silence that didn’t demand to be filled. Beckett swallowed, his jaw tightening for a moment before easing again, like he was bracing himself against his own thoughts. "I… like how happy you seem here," he admitted, voice softer now, roughened around the edges by something dangerously close to hope. His gaze never left the field, but the words were for her alone, shaped carefully, reverently.
She turned to look over at him before she could stop herself, guided by instinct or maybe it was the desire to see the truth in his face and behind his eyes, even if he didn’t look at her. His words fell heavy, not like a stone thrown into water, but like a secret handed over carefully, fragile in its simplicity. Lux’s smile softened as she studied the profile of his face with a patience she had never been given before. His brows weren’t creased or furrowed, but almost rested lazily along the ridge of his forehead. Eyes bluer than the ocean remained focused on the children in the field, the shadow that usually rested there extinguished and replaced with a tentative light like a flickering candle. His jaw was strong, covered in the soft shadow of his beard, but where she was used to the firm tight-lipped indifference, there was instead a smile… Soft and uncertain, but real enough that she couldn't look away.
"I… don’t think I’ve ever seen you smile before," she admitted quietly, the whisper carrying across the small vacuum of space between them. It was only then that Lux slowly turned to face the field. She supposed he had never seen her smile either. When could they? In between fighting monsters and not dying? There was something almost… sacred about it. She wanted nothing more than for that smile to live on his face forever and was terrified of stealing it from him.
Beckett didn’t let the smile slip away when she turned toward him, if anything, it deepened, softened at the edges like something learning it was safe to exist. He finally looked at her then, really looked, and the world narrowed to the space between them—the quiet field, the distant laughter, the warmth of the sun all falling away beneath the weight of her expression. There was no armor in his gaze now, no strategy or vigilance, only a stunned sort of wonder that left him feeling off balance in the best possible way, like the ground had shifted gently beneath him.
"I don’t think I’ve ever seen you smile before either," he said, just as quietly, though the words carried more than their meaning should have allowed. It wasn’t an observation so much as a confession, spoken like he was piecing together something he hadn’t known he was missing until this very second. His eyes lingered on her face as if committing it to memory, as if this version of her, unafraid, unburdened, glowing, was something precious and fleeting. And in the silence that followed, it was painfully clear that he liked what he saw more than he could ever hope to explain.
He shifted his weight, the sleeve of his sweatshirt brushing hers at last, a fleeting contact that sent a quiet jolt through him. "Maybe…" he began, then paused, as if testing the idea before daring to let it live. "Maybe we could just stay," he finished, the thought unfolding slowly, honestly. "It’s safe. The people are kind." His voice trailed off there, unfinished but heavy with meaning, because he didn’t need to say the rest, not when the most important part sat right beside him, golden-haired and smiling, already proving the point simply by being here.
We. He said… we. One single, simple word made everything flutter inside her like her body could no longer contain herself. Lux’s smile bloomed, despite herself and the anxieties that still churned beneath everything else. "You would stay here with me?" she asked, before her mind could catch up to the racing of her heart and weigh the gravity of her words. It took a second for it to register, and then came the panic followed by the warmth that washed over her, burning in her chest and reddening her face. "I mean…" She swallowed, her gaze falling to the strawberries in her hands and trailing along the grotesque scars that clung to her arm. "Me and Violet… And Elliot." She motioned her full hands towards the field with a laugh that sounded almost like a wheeze.
Lux sat there for a moment in silence, chewing on her bottom lip. Then she all but shoved her hands into his, forcing half of the berries into his unsuspecting palm. "Here… they’re… for both of us." She froze for a second, her gaze fixated on where their fingers brushed, rough and cut from months of running and fighting, calloused and scarred from the years before. Whenever their skin brushed it was almost magnetic, like fighting gravity to keep herself from settling into his touch. But it wasn’t hers, he wasn’t hers, she didn’t have the right… Then subconsciously, pulled by that very gravity, her pinky shifted, inching closer until it hovered so close to his finger that the air felt charged. It almost happened, she nearly let it, before she cleared her throat and her attention snapped forward once again.
"You uh…" Lux inhaled sharply like she had forgotten to breathe until that very moment. "Have to like strawberries to live here. It’s probably in the fine print or something." Then she laughed. It was laced with a soft tremor from her nerves and the airiness of being out of breath, but it was still light, authentic, and brightened with her smile that refused to fade.
Beckett watched her through the whole cascade of it, her hesitation, her correction, the way she tried to shrink the weight of her own want by spreading it out among names and logistics and half-jokes. He didn’t interrupt. He didn’t rush her. He just looked at Lux like she was something newly discovered, like the world had quietly rearranged itself around her while he wasn’t paying attention. When she pushed the strawberries into his hand, he accepted them without question, fingers closing around the red fruit as his lips twitched, betraying the effort it took not to smile wider at the way she talked when she was nervous, at the way she kept circling the thing she was really asking without quite daring to land on it.
He let the silence breathe for a moment, then lifted one of the strawberries and bit into it. The sweetness flooded his mouth, immediate and grounding, and without warning it pulled him backward through time, back to a cramped kitchen and a strawberry cake his mother had baked the first time he was allowed home on leave, the frosting uneven and too sweet because she’d been crying while she made it. Back further still, to his grandmother’s pockets, always smelling faintly of sugar and lint, strawberry candies pressed into his small palm like secret treasures meant only for him. And layered beneath it all was the echo of ambrosia from the night before, that same familiar sweetness woven through survival and relief and being kept alive by hands that cared. The realization hit him quietly, but it hit deep, all of it was tied to love, to being wanted, to being held in place by people who refused to let him disappear.
He exhaled slowly, shoulders loosening as if he’d finally set something heavy down. For the first time in a very long while, his body remembered how it felt to come home, not just to a place, but to a sense of belonging that didn’t demand blood or vigilance or constant readiness. He’d been at war far longer than Vietnam, longer than the jungle and the rain and the years that followed. He’d been at war since the day he stepped into that cursed hotel, frozen while the world moved on without him, fighting to survive in a time that no longer fit him. Sitting there now, strawberry juice on his fingers and Lux beside him, it felt like the ceasefire he’d never believed he’d earn.
When her pinky hovered, uncertain and charged, he didn’t pull away. He let it happen. He shifted so it would happen. He let their fingers touch, light and deliberate, the contact small but seismic, like a promise made without words. Beckett turned his head just enough to look at her then, really look, blue eyes warm and steady and unguarded, his smile still there, real and unafraid. "Yeah," he said softly at last, the word carrying the weight of everything he meant but didn’t yet know how to say. "I’d stay with you… if that’s what you wanted."
How was he so calm? It was infuriating. Beckett sat there, patient and steady like a tree rooted deep and strong. Where Lux was restless like a storm, churning and twisting in his presence. He sat beside her like a man who found peace and serenity, while she melted beneath his gaze and struggled to breathe as their fingers touched. He didn’t try to fight or hide his smile, letting it exist freely in that moment… with her. His words weren’t heavy with his truth, but weightless like the first rays of sunlight peeking through dark clouds, earnest and warm… and all consuming.
"I do." The words slipped out almost immediately. Without thought. Without reason. It was like her mind had forgotten to take the time to process and think, bypassing her filters and apprehensions to let the truth fall freely between them. Beckett had been the one constant and the only thing she’s wanted since stepping foot outside that hotel. She always thought it was more of a fantasy, a delusion, something to cling to when everything else was slipping through her fingers like rain. But sitting there together, just… being present together, he kept giving her piece after piece that Lux forgot how to think, how to act, like it was all a dream and one wrong word or misstep would erase the illusion.
When Lux said it, so simply, so immediately, something inside Beckett lurched, as if his heart had forgotten the rhythm it was meant to keep and decided instead to sprint. The warmth that had been spreading through him sharpened into something almost painful, a bright, unbearable kind of hope that made his chest feel too small to hold it. He stared at her for a moment like he hadn’t heard correctly, like the world might take the words back if he breathed too hard. And beneath that fragile glow came the fear, swift and instinctive, curling around his ribs like barbed wire; the fear that he wouldn’t be enough, that peace was a thing he didn’t know how to keep, that happiness was too delicate in hands as rough as his. Lux deserved sunlight, deserved softness without shadows, and he was a man built out of storms and old wars and survival.
The worries stacked quietly, relentless as waves, what if he couldn’t protect her the next time, what if the monsters came again, what if the world demanded blood the way it always seemed to? What if she woke one day and realized she’d mistaken exhaustion for affection, desperation for something real? Beckett kept it all locked behind his eyes, buried deep where it couldn’t spill out and ruin this moment, where she couldn’t see how terrified he was of losing something he’d only just been handed. His breathing remained steady despite the tremor he felt in his bones, and his smile remained even as his throat tightened. He wanted to tell her everything, that he was scared, that he didn’t know how to be the kind of man who could deserve this, but instead he held the knot of it close, silent and reverent, like a prayer he didn’t trust himself to speak aloud.
Lux set down the strawberries she was holding beside her pack, like sitting still was taking too much control and focus that she didn’t have around him. She inhaled deeply, trying to calm herself while running her hands along her thighs. The tips of her fingers accidentally brushed his leg, just barely, but it ignited her nerves and her breath hitched in her chest. It was like once a single confession escaped, a truth that had been clawing at the inside of her ribs like a caged beast, the rest grew restless like they could no longer be contained.
She swallowed and closed her eyes. It was safer to be honest in the dark. She could pretend she wasn’t exposed, that she wasn’t peeling away what remained of her fragile armor to reveal the raw, broken vulnerability that lived beneath it. "There was a moment last night…" Lux found the words, quiet and trembling, but shared them anyway, like they had to be spoken now before she lost the nerve. The tips of her fingers traced scars along her forearm like the answers were written in her skin. "I thought you were going to die… And then again in my nightmare…" She shook her head like she was fighting off the images before they tried to return. "I had to face the possibility of a life without you in it… and I don’t think I could…" She couldn’t find the courage to finish the sentence, but the heaviness of her unspoken words rested between them in a delicate balance, the truth plain as the sunlight that warmed their skin.
The silence hovered around them like a charged, conductive cloud that was one spark from igniting and engulfing them whole. Lux waited through heavy breaths that slowly calmed her racing heart, through minutes that passed like hours until she found the strength to open her eyes. There was a part of her that was almost surprised to find herself still sitting upon the soft grass beside him, safe within the valley, like a reality she hadn’t let herself fully accept. "I promised to tell you what happened last night. Do you still want to know?" She had made so many confessions, what was one more? She might as well let the final admission free and unburden herself fully... No matter the outcome. Beckett was smiling, and here, and maybe… maybe it wouldn’t be so bad.
Beckett stayed very still as she spoke, as if movement might fracture the fragile honesty she was finally letting spill into the open. He listened with the kind of attention that felt almost reverent, his brows drawing together slightly at the mention of her nightmare, because something in him recognized that haunted edge. He had woken with strange echoes too, salt wind and a ship rocking beneath him, a voice calling from somewhere impossibly deep, the crushing weight of earth overhead like the world itself might collapse. It had left him unsettled in a way that was different from war, different from blood and bullets, because it felt like a warning written in a language he didn’t yet understand. Still, he was grateful his mind had not conjured her death; he would take jungles and gunfire over that kind of loss any day.
His gaze lingered on her face, on the way her eyes closed as if darkness made courage easier, on the trembling sincerity threaded through every word. The confession sat heavy between them, not suffocating, but sacred—something raw and real that neither of them could pretend away. Beckett’s chest tightened, not with panic, but with a quiet ache of understanding. He knew what it was to imagine absence as a kind of death, to realize too late how much someone had come to matter. His fingers flexed once against his knee, restrained, as if he wanted to reach for her but didn’t know if he had the right.
When she finally asked, the question soft as a held breath, Beckett swallowed. He kept his voice gentle, careful, like he was handling something breakable. "Yeah," he murmured, eyes steady on hers even as his heart thudded low and uncertain. "I still want to know." A pause, his expression easing, sincerity overtaking the guardedness he wore like armor. "But only if you’re comfortable telling me," he added quietly, the words an offering rather than a demand, as they sat together in the grass with the sun warm on their shoulders and too many truths finally close enough to touch.
Lux couldn’t fight the small, quiet laugh that escaped at his words. Comfortable. When was the last time she was comfortable around him? It was never because she didn’t feel safe, on the contrary, she trusted him more than… Well, anyone. It was that trust and the way that he consumed her thoughts that made her uncomfortable. She always wanted him near, but when he was she forgot how to breathe, how to think. It was like her mind and her heart were at constant war, flipping and twisting, coming undone and put back together again by a single glance. Everyday the feelings heightened into something stronger that she couldn’t ignore to the point where now she wasn’t denying them to herself, but struggling to keep them from tumbling out, like an overfull basket of strawberries where every look and touch made one little berry slip free, then another and another.
"You were there," she finally spoke, letting her gaze drift over to him for just a second before falling back down to her trembling fingers. "You have the right to know." Lux ran her hands down her thighs, building up the courage while self-soothing all the same. The early parts were easy, factual. She could get through those, work her way towards… Her breath hitched and her fingers curled into her palms just at the thought.
"Alright." The word came out little more than a whisper, a quiet goad to force herself into talking as she adjusted to sit more upright, gaze fixated on a dried clump of mud along the toe of her right boot. "You said the last thing you remember was coming after me?" The question was rhetorical, more of a starting point to align her thoughts and pick a single point in her vivid memories to let the night replay.
"The hellhound got me with a claw across my back. I rolled down the hill to try and get away. I think that’s when the car accident happened?" Her brows pulled together and she blinked, trying to parse it all into the correct order with only sound and the vision of the beast bearing down on her arm as an anchor. She shook her head. "I’m not sure… It was on me pretty fast. I put up my arm when it went for my face and all I really saw was dark fur, teeth… and blood." Lux cleared her throat as her right hand found its way back to her forearm once again and her thumb started stroking the edge of one of the gashes. There was a part of her that wanted to hold his hand as she relived the night, peeling back the raw layers that hadn’t had a chance to heal, wanting to seek comfort in his touch and presence but… No…
"That’s when I heard your voice…" It was like a beacon in the darkness, one last glimmer of light and warmth when she was certain death was taking her. Just the memory made her stomach constrict before a wave of safety washed over her, like his presence beside her was a tether to keep her grounded through the turmoil of her thoughts. "I couldn’t see you, but I knew you were there." She met his gaze, only for a single heart beat, just long enough for the weight of what that meant to pass between them like something far too fragile and too sacred to ruin with words.
Beckett listened without interrupting, the sound of her voice threading itself through the hollow places in his mind like a needle pulling stitch after stitch. Her words didn’t feel like a story so much as a map, guiding him back through the night he’d lost in fragments and fever. Each detail she offered clicked against something half-buried inside him, puzzle pieces surfacing one by one, mud under his hands, the slope of the hill, the sickening certainty of teeth and blood. The more she spoke, the more the memories returned in flashes—the unnatural cold when the rain abruptly stopped, the way silence had felt wrong on his skin, the moment something in him snapped under fear so sharp it became rage. He remembered water rising at his command like an extension of his own body, obeying him without question, violent and beautiful and terrifying all at once, as if the sea itself had reached up through the earth to answer his desperation.
And beneath every image was the same truth, pulsing louder than thunder… he had been willing to die. Not in some noble, distant way, but in the raw animal instinct of a man who could not bear the thought of her absence. His chest ached now at the idea of waking up to a world where Lux wasn’t sitting beside him, where her voice didn’t exist to pull him back from the edge. It hurt in a way scars never could, a deep bruise of possibility, of what almost happened. His fingers twitched against his knee, restraint fraying, because every instinct in him wanted to reach for her, to pull her close until he could feel her breathing and know she was real. Sitting there in the sun with her confession between them, Beckett realized how thin the line had been, and how impossible it felt, now, to ever let her slip that close to death again.
"At some point the rain stopped. It… hovered in the air and defied physics. I didn’t see all of it, but… I think it was you. It never touched me, but slashed through the hound. Then the rain started up again when you started taunting it." Lux drew in a sharp breath as the memory of his scream tore through her like she was hearing it all over again. She could feel the blood draining from her face and going cold. Her hands went rigid, if only to keep them from shaking. She blinked slowly, swallowing and drawing in a deep breath as she looked up at the soft white clouds passing overhead. "Then you screamed…"
"I couldn’t run. I think at that moment… I decided we’d survive together or die together." A small smile pulled at the corner of her mouth. "I got up and jumped on its back." Lux shrugged her shoulders like that was the simplest and only solution. Given another chance she would have done it all over again, probably more if that meant keeping him from getting hurt. "There was an arrow lodged in its eye that I grabbed and tried to keep it from biting you. Then I felt this like… static electricity tingling along my skin. It’s… hard to explain. But something knocked you back just before a bolt of lightning arched down from the sky and into me." Her head tilted to the side as she tried to recount everything she could. "It didn’t hurt. It was more like it recharged me like a battery? Then used me as a conduit?... I don’t know." She shook her head, finding herself struggling for words and how to describe it. "The hellhound started expanding like meat in a microwave before exploding into a cloud of golden dust."
And then she paused…
The calm Lux had found vanished. Her hands trembled no matter how hard she focused on holding them still. Her gaze was wide, scared… vulnerable as she stared straight ahead toward the strawberry field. Every breath she drew in was rough and ragged, uneven from the rapid pounding of her heart against her lungs and ribs. "I went to you…" Her voice came out quiet, terrified and uncertain like she was crossing a frozen lake and every word spoken moved her farther but also cracked the ground beneath her. "You were bleeding everywhere and you could barely keep your eyes open."
Her throat tightened and tears welled against her lashes like her body was trying to tell her to stop, but she promised Beckett the truth… And that meant all of it. She cleared her throat, trying to push past it with a heavy breath. "I called you an idiot for following me and said you weren’t allowed to die. You called me stubborn… and beautiful." Her voice got immeasurably quiet, like the truth was too delicate to be spoken plainly… because it was… to her. "You said you couldn’t let me die because you care too much…" Lux started growing restless, like she needed to get up and pace, or walk away, like every nerve ending in her body was firing all at once and she was about to explode if she remained stationary. But she didn’t get up. She forced herself to remain there, seated beside him in the grass… She forced herself to finish.
"I told you no dying confessions, and that I couldn’t lose you…" She drew in a deep breath that made her entire body tremble. Blinked once, twice, then tightly shut her eyes and pushed the words out before she could take them back. "…I kissed you…" Once the truth left her lips it was like two waves crashing together inside her. One was a burden lifted and she could finally breathe, while the other was the twisting dread and fear of rejection stealing her air before she could relax. Her head fell, eyes fixed on the marring along her arm as loose blonde hair fell like a veil around her face, hiding the last truths she had behind a thin curtain that separated them. "And... Then you passed out," she added quietly. But she didn’t look over at him. She couldn’t… She stood on one last thin piece of ice and whatever expression he held that she refused to look at would either be her salvation or undoing.
The more Lux spoke, the more the night returned to him in full color, no longer a blur of pain and instinct but a vivid, terrible tapestry stitched together with rain and blood and lightning. He remembered the way his body had moved without permission, driven by something older than thought, something carved into him by war and survival. He remembered the certainty, cold and absolute, that if he fell, she would be next, and that failure would be unbearable. That had been the only mission that mattered the moment they left that damned hotel; Lux would live, even if he didn’t. He could still feel the rain suspended in the air, the water answering him like an extension of his own veins, the animal roar of his fear when the hellhound turned toward her again. It was terrifying, realizing how far he would go, how quickly he would choose death if it meant she didn’t have to.
Because the truth was, he had believed he had nothing left to lose. He had stepped out of the Lotus Casino into a world that had moved on without him, decades stolen in a blink, everything familiar turned to dust. Any family he might have had was likely gone, their grief long since calcified into headstones and quiet prayers. They would have assumed he died the way they always feared he would, lost at sea, swallowed whole by time. He had been a relic walking through a future that didn’t know what to do with him, and he had accepted that obscurity like a sentence. But then there was Lux, stubborn and bright and infuriating, refusing to let him disappear the way he wanted to. She became the first thing that tethered him to the present, the first thing that made him feel like survival was more than habit.
And she had kissed him.
The realization hit him like a physical blow, sharp and breathless, because he understood then why she had fled, why hurt had flickered so deeply across her face earlier, why her courage now trembled on the edge of collapse. He had been given something sacred in the middle of blood and death, and then he had blacked out and forgotten it, leaving her alone with the weight of it. Beckett swallowed hard, throat tight, and for once he did not let himself retreat into silence.
Slowly, so carefully it felt like approaching a wounded animal, he reached out. His rough fingers found her chin, gentle despite the callouses, and he tipped her face upward until she had no choice but to meet his gaze.
He took a moment, drinking her in as if he needed proof she was real. Sunlight caught in her hair, turning it to molten gold, soft around the edges where it fell like a veil. Freckles dusted her cheekbones, faint as constellations. Her lips were pink and parted slightly, and her eyes, those impossible eyes, were the color of the ocean on a day so calm it felt like the world might finally forgive itself. His thumb swept over her bottom lip before he could stop himself, before fear could drag him back into old habits. The touch was reverent, almost disbelieving.
While his hands might have been rough, his touch was gentle and lifegiving, like an oasis in the desert when she was dying of thirst. Lux had been so starved for affection, on the run for years and frozen in time, that she had forgotten what it was like to be touched. When the tips of his fingers caressed her skin, it undid her completely. The tension that tightened along her shoulders and constricted in her muscles released all at once. Her body that had been straight as a pin, rigid, and trembling went slack, slouching slightly and nearly melting into something so small, like letting her fingers dip into the cool water after crossing the dune to reach it.
Lux didn’t fight his guidance, letting him gently lift and turn her head to face him. Her body followed, angling and shifting until her knees were lightly pressing into the side of his leg. But when she should have met his gaze, her eyes instead closed. It was the final thread of fear pulled taut, tethering her to shore because it was safe and predictable. Opening her eyes and cutting that last cord meant letting herself drift out into the sea of Beckett where she’d either be buoyed or drown from a single glance. Her pulse raced beneath his touch as she drew in one last deep breath, knowing it could very well be her last. Then before she could overthink it, she snapped the thread and opened her eyes.
Blonde lashes fluttered against her eyelids as she looked across the charged expanse between them. But where she was prepared for indifference, she only found warmth and understanding staring back at her. A single tear slipped free, leaving behind a thin trail down her cheek that glistened in the sunlight, and with it the final piece of her armor crumbled leaving behind her... raw and vulnerable, where the burden of her feelings were no longer weighing her down but laid out between them like a precious offering.
Her body shuddered when his thumb brushed her bottom lip, stealing the air from her lungs as her gaze involuntarily fell to his mouth. Her eyes traced the contours of his lips, framed in the subtle shadow of his beard, and curved into a rare smile he brandished for only her. Lux couldn’t remember what they felt like, if they were tender and vulnerable, or strong with dormant passion. She only recalled a kiss in the shadow of blood and death, a desperate plea for him to live and a sacred truth he had the right to know before Hades took him. But now, in the safety of the valley, bathed in sunlight, she found herself drawn to him again, like she needed to kiss him one more time to solidify the memory. She leaned a bit closer but stopped when the uncertainty overpowered her desire.
"I’m a retired veteran," he began, voice hoarse, the slightest tremble betraying what his face refused to show. "Vietnam. I watched… I lost people. I’m… a relic of the past. And some relics are better forgotten. That’s what I figured, at least." He let out a slow breath, eyes never leaving hers. "But you never let me fade," he admitted quietly, like it was both accusation and gratitude tangled together. "No matter how much I wanted to."
Lux did not speak or cheapen his words with her own thoughts. She let him speak his piece, because it was so rare that they spoke like this, open and genuine without the heaviness of the world they no longer belonged to weighing them down. Her expression softened, saddened, at the thought of him wanting to be forgotten. Her hand moved of its own volition, drifting across the space between them until she found his hand that rested in his lap. Her fingers slowly curled around his wrist and ran along his palm until they slipped between his, slotting together like that’s where they had always belonged.
Her touch stole what little breath he had left, quiet and devastating in its simplicity. Beckett felt her fingers find him, felt the slow certainty of her hand sliding into his, and it was like something inside him finally settled—like a lock turning, like a missing piece clicking into place so cleanly it hurt. He hadn’t realized how empty his hand had been until it was full of her, until warmth threaded between his fingers and made the world feel less jagged. The tension that lived in his shoulders, the constant readiness for violence or loss, drained away in a slow exhale. Without thinking, as if his body understood before his mind could, his thumb brushed over her knuckles in a gentle, grounding stroke, reverent as a promise he was too afraid to say aloud.
His jaw tightened, the confession scraping its way out of him like something raw. "I’m angry a lot of the time," he said, almost apologetic. "Because the life I wanted was taken from me. Because we both spent years trapped in that hotel. Because the world kept moving and I didn’t." He looked away for the briefest second, as if the words tasted like rust, then his gaze snapped back to her like a compass finding north. "I’m not mad at you," he murmured. "Never you. Just… everything."
He struggled then, lips pressing together, breath uneven. "I don’t understand how someone as good as you could look at me and think…" He shook his head, unable to finish, the vulnerability too exposed. And then, like a lifeline, a wry smile tugged at his mouth, soft, real. "As far as first kisses go," he whispered, thumb still resting against her lip, "We can do better than that." His voice gentled, warmth threading through the roughness. "At least… I wanted it to be better."
She laughed, soft and quiet, tinged with disbelief and the fatigue of shouldering a burden that she felt incredibly stupid for thinking was one sided. Her gaze dropped to their entangled fingers, her thumb lightly tapped against the side of his hand as a warmth bloomed across her cheeks. "I didn’t know you wanted to," Lux confessed barely above a whisper, her lip brushing against his thumb with every word as she glanced up at him from beneath her lashes. Her smile that had remained stubbornly persistent curled a bit more on one side. "I… Kind of thought you hated me," she added with a weak chuckle.
Her laugh unfurled something in him that had been clenched tight for far too long, and Beckett felt his smile widen before he could stop it, helpless in the face of her softness. It struck him, sudden and sharp, that this was perhaps the gentlest conversation they had ever shared, no monsters at their heels, no blood in their mouths, no bitterness used like armor. Just sunlight, strawberries, and her fingers threaded through his. The realization twisted in his chest like a knife made of guilt, because how many moments had he wasted being hard when he could have been honest? His breath caught, and the words escaped him raw and unplanned. "I’m sorry," he blurted, shaken by the thought that she had ever believed she was alone in this.
He searched her face with a kind of desperate sincerity, as if he could rewrite every harsh glance and sharp word simply by looking at her now. "I don’t hate you," he said, and there was nothing in his voice but truth, bare and unwavering. His hand shifted without permission from his mind, cradling the side of her face now as though she were something precious, something breakable that the world had already tried too many times to ruin. Her warmth fit into his palm like it belonged there, like his touch had been waiting for her permission. "I wouldn’t have chased after you if I hated you," he added quietly, thumb brushing her cheek. "I wouldn’t have tried to take the brunt of it all if I didn’t care."
Lux’s smile softened, the corners pulling downward into a frown of recognition at her own ignorance. Everything they had kept unspoken was laid bare between them, no longer hidden behind cracked armor, barbs masking compassion, and a deep rooted affection that had tethered them together, no matter how much they both denied it. The gentle caress of his hand shifting along her skin to hold her cheek drew a quiet, trembling breath from her lips. Before she could think better of it, her head tilted into the embrace, melting into his touch as her eyes lulled shut and the world narrowed to only the warmth of his fingers laced with hers and his palm holding her with a gentle reverence she had never felt before. She stayed there until he spoke again, grounded by the tenderness of his hands upon her until his words pulled her back, slowly opening her eyes to the brightness of the valley and the deep ocean of his eyes.
His fingers tightened around her hand, gentle, steady, as if reassurance could be passed through skin. The words came slower now, heavier, because they were dangerous in their honesty. "The truth is…" His throat bobbed with a hard swallow, his gaze flickering between her eyes and their joined hands as if the sight could anchor him. "I don’t think I could live if you died." It sounded like a confession and curse all at once.
He let out a breath that trembled at the edges, a humorless softness tugging at his mouth. "You’re stubborn as a mule," he murmured, fondness bleeding through despite himself, "and you always know exactly what to say to get under my skin… but I—" He faltered, because what lived beneath that was too vast to name cleanly.
He looked down, frustrated, the soldier in him wanting structure, wanting the right formation of words, and finding only tangled feelings instead. "I didn’t want to say anything until I was certain," he admitted, voice rough with restraint. "Until there was somewhere safe for us to go. Somewhere the world couldn’t take you from me in the span of a heartbeat." His thumb stroked over her knuckles again, a small, unconscious vow. "Now that there is… now that I’m not scared of losing you every second…" He trailed off, eyes lifting back to her, helpless and earnest, as if he was still learning how to exist for the first time in a life where hope was allowed.
While comfort and ease had found her once, every word that fell from his uncertain lips stirred something fervent and uncontrollable in her chest. Lux’s breaths trembled from the erratic beating of her heart, unable to settle like she was standing on a cliff, toes curled over the edge ready to jump and he was the abyss below. Once she moved there was no going back. His gravity would consume her whole and only the trust that he would catch her could save her from the destruction that could come from letting go. But then his words faltered and drifted off incomplete, settling behind the honest and raw vulnerability in his eyes. All it took was that one look… and she jumped.
Lux acted on instinct, like a magnet deep beneath her ribs was drawn to an equally as strong and opposite magnet in Beckett’s chest, pulling her closer. She started leaning forward, shifting her weight onto her knees as the space between them shrank, inch by inch. Her fingers tightened around his, as if anchoring them both in the moment, while her other hand shifted until it rested against the top of his thigh, bracing herself as she moved while grounding her in reality. Her chest tightened, stealing the air from her lungs as she felt the warmth of his breath bloom against her skin. She held his gaze as she drew closer until the tip of her nose brushed against his. She swallowed hard, pushing away her doubts and steeling her nerves before her eyes fluttered shut and she closed the remaining distance until her lips finally met his.
It was gentle and trembling, like the fear of uncertainty was still so tightly woven that she had to slowly work to detangle it, word by word, touch by touch, kiss by kiss. It wasn’t hungry or passionate, but like a promise whispered through skin. Her body unknowingly settled into a mirror of their kiss from the night before, a quiet plea shared through a connection so charged that one touch couldn’t sate it. Without death lingering like a vignette around the memory, tarnishing and fraying it with a heaviness that tore at the moment before it ended, she felt everything: his hands on her, the softness of his lips, the gentle prickle of his facial hair, the shakiness of his breath, and the way one simple touch was more electrifying than an entire bolt of lightning coursing through her body.
It only lasted a second, not even that. A brief, gentle peck that froze time like the world stopped spinning and held its breath to suspend that one kiss. Lux pulled away, just barely. The tips of their noses still brushed as she drew in a shaky breath and forced her eyes open, looking over at him like she half expected the illusion to break or for him to collapse all over again. Her gaze flicked back and forth between his eyes, then fell to his lips as she struggled to fight the desire to close the space between them a second time, to kiss him with reckless abandon, without restraint or the deep seeded fear of rejection.
She cleared her throat and blinked, trying to push the thoughts aside and focus on the words she needed to say before she lost them again. "Survival and… time made us harsh people," Lux confessed. Her words were little more than a whisper, filling the silence as their breaths mixed in the fragile air between them. "But maybe we need to remind ourselves that some things are worth living for." Her thumb lightly stroked his leg through his jeans where her hand still rested. "It doesn’t matter if it’s in this valley or out there…" There was a soft quivering laced throughout her words, like she was trying to settle into this new state of exposed honesty, but her words were still resolute, with a gentle strength and stubborn surety. "We can keep each other safe… As long as we’re together."
Her movement stole the air from his lungs before she ever touched him. Beckett watched her lean in with wide, unguarded eyes, every inch she closed tightening something electric and unbearable inside his chest. His heart pounded harder with each breath she took, as if it understood before he did that this was the moment everything changed. When her hand settled against his thigh and her fingers tightened around his, it felt less like contact and more like gravity taking hold. And when her nose brushed his and her lips finally met his, his eyes closed of their own accord, surrendering to it completely.
For that suspended second, there was nothing but her. The warmth of her mouth, soft and trembling. The faint sweetness of strawberries still lingering between them. The gentle prickle of his own breath stuttered against her skin. All he could hear was the rush of blood in his ears and the quiet hitch of her breathing; all he could feel was the fragile, sacred reality that she had chosen him. It wasn’t desperate or frantic like the night before. It was steady and deliberate, like stepping forward into sunlight after years in shadow.
When she pulled back, he opened his eyes slowly, like he was waking from something he didn’t want to end. He was breathing harder than he had any right to, chest rising and falling as if he’d just run a mile instead of leaned forward an inch. He looked at her as if she had rearranged the sky for him, like she was the only fixed point in a spinning world. And when she spoke, about survival, about time, about choosing something worth living for, he felt the truth of it settle deep in his bones. This wasn’t just about staying alive anymore. It was about staying.
His smile unfurled slowly, softer than it had been all day, softer than he knew he was capable of. His thumb brushed her cheek reverently, memorizing the warmth beneath his touch, before he gave in to the pull that had been building in him since she first leaned forward. He drew her back in, closing the space between them without hesitation this time. The second kiss was deeper, still gentle but sure, his hand steady at her jaw as if he were afraid she might vanish if he didn’t hold on. He kissed her until his lungs burned and his heart felt too large for his chest, until the world narrowed to warmth and breath and the soft sounds she made against him.
When he finally pulled back, it was only because they both needed air. His forehead rested against hers, breath mingling in the thin strip of space between them. He was smiling in a way that felt almost foolish with its intensity, bright and unbidden. "I’ll protect you. Always," he said quietly, the vow simple but immovable. He exhaled a small, breathless laugh and shook his head faintly. "I’m sorry… for making you think I hated you. I never did. I couldn’t." His thumb traced the line of her cheekbone again, gentle and awed. "You’re like the sun. How could anyone hate you, Lux?"
The sound of her name on his tongue lingered in the air between them like something newly born. Beckett didn’t seem to realize what he’d done at first. The word had slipped out naturally, unguarded, carried on the same breath as his confession. Lux. Not Slade. Not the sharp-edged surname he’d used like a shield, like distance, like a line drawn in the sand between them. Just her. Just the girl sitting in the grass with strawberry-stained fingers and sunlight tangled in her hair.
His smile faltered, not in regret, but in realization.
For so long he had called her Slade because it was safer. It kept her at arm’s length. It made her a soldier, an equal opponent, a rival force he could push against without acknowledging the way she unsettled him. Slade was steel and strategy and sharp retorts. Slade was someone he could survive beside without having to admit he needed her. But Lux… Lux was warmth. Lux was laughter in strawberry fields. Lux was trembling hands and quiet confessions and a kiss that felt like coming home.
His breath caught slightly as the weight of it settled. He swallowed, thumb still resting against her cheek, eyes searching hers like he was trying to decide if he should take it back, if he should retreat behind the familiar safety of her last name. But he didn’t. He couldn’t. The distance it created felt wrong now. Artificial. A habit forged in survival that no longer fit the life blooming between them.
His gaze softened further, something resolute forming behind it. And though he didn’t name it, though he didn’t yet understand the full shape of it, something inside him had already rooted itself deep and permanent. It wasn’t just care. It wasn’t just protection. It was the quiet, consuming certainty that if she walked forward, he would follow; if she fell, he would catch her; if the world tried to take her again, it would have to go through him first. He had stepped out of a stolen lifetime thinking he had nothing left. Sitting here in the grass with her breath still warm against his skin, he knew that wasn’t true anymore.
"Lux," he repeated, quieter this time, like he was testing the shape of it, letting it settle fully into place. The name felt warmer in his mouth than he expected. More honest. Like stepping out from behind a wall he hadn’t known he was hiding behind. And this time, when he smiled at her, there was no armor left in it at all.
Whatever tension had taken root, leaving her trembling and uncertain, had melted away and for the first time in months Lux felt like she could finally breathe. The world wasn’t trying to swallow them whole. They weren’t running, fighting, and clawing their way across the country. They made it, they were here… Beckett was here. He wasn’t just alive, but here right in front of her. His hands held her like an anchor to reality, not pulling away like she burned him. He didn’t just suffer through a kiss, but pulled her back in again. He smiled. Armor and distance had kept them safe, kept them alive… But it also kept them cold, lonely, and so painfully desperate to bridge the gap. Whatever wedge had been shoved between them had vanished, and all that was left was them, raw, honest, and no longer running.
Then he said her name… her name. Not Slade or muttered curses, just Lux. Three simple letters that carried nearly as much weight as a kiss and stole the breath from her all the same. She heard his other words, she did, but they were lost once he said her name. Her eyes widened, somewhere in between awe and disbelief, studying his unguarded smile that never faltered and the softness in his gaze that made her feel seen in a way she couldn’t explain. It felt different hearing him say it, deep and yielding, with an intimacy that was reserved just for her. "Say it again," she whispered as her smile grew bashful and guilty and brighter than the sunshine that warmed their skin.
His smile softened in a way that felt almost impossible, like something in him had finally laid down its weapons. The way she looked at him, wide-eyed, hopeful, almost shy, made his chest tighten until he could hear the heavy rhythm of his own heartbeat in his ears. For so long her name had stayed locked behind distance and stubborn pride, hidden beneath the safer armor of Slade. But now it sat easily on his tongue, warm and natural, like it had always belonged there. Beckett let himself linger in the moment, studying the way her smile brightened under the sunlight, the way the gold in her hair caught the breeze.
"Lux," he said again, softer this time, like the word itself was something delicate he didn’t want to break.
The name hung between them for a breath before he leaned forward, drawn by a pull that had long since stopped asking permission. His lips met hers again, gentle and unhurried, the kiss warm and fleeting but filled with quiet certainty. It wasn’t rushed or desperate, just a simple, honest connection, like sealing something that had already been spoken without words. When he pulled back, his forehead hovered close to hers, and his smile grew wider at the expression blooming across her face. For a moment he just watched her, as if committing every detail of that happiness to memory, his thumb brushing lightly along her cheek like he still couldn’t quite believe she was real.
She laughed softly like he had offered her the world or confessed his undying love with a single word. Lux slipped her fingers free from his, only so she could take his face in both of her hands. The tips of her thumbs rested against the corners of his lips where they curved upwards into a smile, warm and welcoming like this is where she always belonged, not at Camp Half-Blood or in a valley surrounded by strawberry fields, but beneath his gaze, embraced by his comfort. She never thought she would see the day where he was happy, where Beckett wasn’t a soldier but a man that was alive and breathing and given a second chance at life. And what was harder still to believe, was that it was her doing.
Lux held his gaze as her right hand slowly trailed along the stubble on his jaw, then curved around the back of his neck. Her palm was warm against his skin as the tips of her fingers slid back through his hair at the base of his skull. She closed the space between them a second time, pressing her lips to his without hesitancy or restraint. It was deeper and needy, like now that she had permission it would never be enough. She wasn’t dipping her toes in to be certain he felt the same, it was months of wanting and yearning finally boiling over when the last thing that kept her at an arm’s length was pushed aside. She pulled him closer, breathing heavily through her nose as she wrapped her arms around him, unwilling to allow any space to grow between them.
The world around them narrowed to a point, a single moment… just them. Her lips parted to deepen the kiss and the tip of her tongue had just barely brushed his when a loud, excited squeal pierced through the serene hum of the valley. Lux’s eyes snapped open, holding Beckett’s gaze as heat quickly flooded to her cheeks, turning her face bright red. She slowly pivoted her attention toward the field where she quickly found Harper grinning ear to ear, clapping her hands enthusiastically, pigtails swinging about as she bounced with excitement. "I knew it would work!" she practically shouted. While Eliott stood beside her, arms tightly crossed over his chest with a scowl of disgust or disapproval that contorted his face.
"Oh, God," Lux muttered under her breath as she quickly buried her face into the palms of her hands. She turned away from the field bashfully, letting her head tip forward until she found solace hiding against Beckett’s shoulder. But even embarrassed, her smile never once faded. After a second or two, she started shaking against him as a quiet laugh slipped free, muffled by her hands. It was probably best they were interrupted, as much as she also loathed it. She could feel herself getting carried away and… There may or may not have been a moment where she completely forgot where they were… in plain sight of a lot of people… and children… and—"Oh my God," she whispered against his shoulder, more than slightly mortified.
For a moment Beckett forgot the world existed.
Lux’s hands on his face, the warmth of her fingers threading through his hair, the soft press of her lips against his, everything narrowed into a single point of gravity that pulled him completely under. He felt her everywhere; the heat of her body close to his, the faint sweetness of strawberries still lingering on her breath, the way her arms wrapped around him like she had finally decided to stop holding back. His hands settled instinctively against her back, steadying her as she pulled him closer, and the kiss deepened into something that made his lungs forget their purpose. It was dizzying in the best possible way, months of tension and quiet wanting to unravel all at once.
And then the squeal hit him like a bucket of ice water.
Beckett blinked, the spell breaking as reality rushed back in all at once, sunlight, strawberry fields, the distant hum of camp life, and most importantly… children. He pulled back just slightly, breath still uneven, and followed Lux’s gaze toward the field where Harper was practically vibrating with triumph. Elliot stood beside her with the unmistakable expression of a boy who had witnessed something deeply offensive to his young sensibilities. The tips of Beckett’s ears warmed, a faint flush creeping along the back of his neck, though his embarrassment was quieter than Lux’s spectacular retreat into her hands.
He let out a soft breath through his nose and shook his head, amusement tugging at the corner of his mouth despite everything. "Kids," he muttered under his breath, the word carrying the same weary acceptance someone might use for rain on a day they’d forgotten their umbrella.
Lux had already folded into his shoulder, hiding her face while quiet laughter shook through her frame. Beckett’s expression softened at the sound of it, the tension that had once defined every interaction between them now replaced by something lighter, warmer. His hand slid down her arm until his fingers found hers again, giving her hand a gentle squeeze as if to reassure her that the world hadn’t ended just because they’d been caught kissing by a strawberry field, in fact, he wanted everyday to be filled with little nonsensical moments just like this. The simple contact grounded him again, a reminder that none of this was slipping away.
He glanced out across the valley, the cabins scattered across the hills, the lake glinting in the afternoon sun, the distant laughter of campers drifting through the air like music. Then he looked back at her, and that last taunt thread in his chest loosened. "Want to go check out the rest of the camp?" he asked softly, his thumb brushing the back of her hand as his smile returned, easy and genuine. It felt like the kind of question that belonged to people who finally had the luxury of time.
She finally pulled away from his shoulder, laughing softly as her gaze met his, her face warm and flushed beneath the wisps of wind-blown blonde hair. Lux gave herself one final moment to study his face, his lips, the moment… him. She needed to commit it all to memory, like one last sliver of paranoia couldn’t release its grasp on her, and she had to remember that moment in case the world took it from her like everything else. No amount of time would have been enough for her to pry herself away, but when it felt sufficient she gave him a small nod. "Yeah," she replied quietly, smile softening but never fading.
Lux reluctantly slipped her hand from his grasp and pushed off the plush, cool grass to get to her feet. The soft flush still clung to her cheeks as she ran her hands along her clothes and tucked loose hair behind her ears, feeling as though she was caught in a far worse position than she was. She leaned over and scooped up her discarded CD player, headphones vibrating softly in her palms as Pearl Jam continued to play quietly. After turning it off, she slid it back into her pack. She lifted her bag by the strap and swung it over her shoulder, the movement in her scarred left arm and the weight bumping her back made her wince, but she grimaced through it as something to grow accustomed to rather than cater too.
Her attention shifted back over Beckett, the sight of him alone made something warm bloom inside her, like a foreign sense of ease that he was still there… and it really wasn’t a dream. Lux’s smile settled, soft and certain, like it was a state of living not just a fleeting moment as she slowly found his hand and slipped her fingers between his. She inhaled deeply as her gaze scanned the grandeur of camp splayed out all around them. "Maybe we can find some showers," she mused. A beat or two passed before the gravity of what she said—and the implications with it—hit her with the force of a hellhound’s claw. Her eyes widened, cheeks growing a shade darker as she fumbled for an explanation. "I just… I feel like I’m covered in dirt and blood… and hot water sounds amazing." She swallowed, then peeked over at him sheepishly from the corner of her eyes.
Beckett’s mouth twitched before he could stop it, the barest betrayal of the thought that flashed through him the moment she mentioned showers. It was quick, gone almost as soon as it came, but not before heat climbed the back of his neck and settled warm beneath the collar of the orange sweatshirt. Standing again made everything feel a little too real, the weight of his bag against his shoulder, the sun on his skin, Lux beside him with flushed cheeks and that sheepish glance from the corner of her eye that was, frankly, far more dangerous than any monster they had outrun. He cleared his throat, like that might somehow force his thoughts back into line, and dragged in a steadying breath. "I could use a shower," he managed, voice rougher than he intended, doing his best to ignore how painfully cute she looked when she fumbled over herself.
His gaze drifted over the camp again, taking in the sprawling valley with its cabins and pathways and sunlight, as if the landscape itself might rescue him from the direction his mind was trying to go. There was so much of this place he didn’t understand yet, too many moving parts, too many smiling strangers in orange shirts acting like they had all the time in the world. The thought should have unsettled him more than it did, but with Lux’s fingers threaded through his, the uncertainty felt strangely manageable, like a puzzle that could wait until tomorrow. He adjusted the strap on his shoulder with his free hand, lips pulling into a thoughtful line as his eyes narrowed slightly toward the clustered cabins below. "I guess we should figure out which… cabin is ours?" he said, the question half to her and half to the universe at large. Then, lower, more to himself than anyone else, "Wonder who the hell’s even in charge of this place…"
The muttered question hung in the air for only a second before he gave up on solving it right then and there. After the briefest hesitation, still not quite used to the fact that he could reach for her now, that she might actually let him, he caught her hand more firmly in his and tugged her gently back toward the trail. The motion was instinctive, easy, like he’d already decided that wherever the path led, she belonged at his side. Their joined hands swung lightly between them as they stepped off the grass and toward the winding path, the strawberry field and the shrieking delight of Harper fading behind them. Beckett didn’t look away from the trail ahead for long, but when he glanced at Lux from the corner of his eye, the soft curve of his smile returned, warm and quiet and still a little awed that this was real.
Lux followed his lead without argument for the first time… ever. No sharp stubbornness or begrudging reluctance. She simply slotted herself beside him, their shoulders occasionally brushing from their closeness as they slipped into a natural synchronicity. She gave his hand a gentle squeeze following his rhetorical questions, attempting to ease any concerns before they could take root. "I don’t know. But we’ll figure it out. We always do." Her words came softly, laced with the warmth of reassurance and a patience she had never been afforded during their time together. They wandered through camp with a goal, but no destination, settling in the peace of existing in each other’s space like that was where they had always belonged, side by side.
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