"A scar means I survived."

Cole's POV

Constant rapping on my apartment door interrupted my rather dull evening. I tugged on a shirt and clicked a round into the chamber before checking the peephole.

Breathing a sigh of relief, I unlocked and opens the door. Immediately, something seemed off. Her usual smirk that she wore around me was gone and her hands were tightly stuffed into her jacket pocket.

"What's wrong?"

"Can't I just visit you?" she tried to quip but the drawl in her voice was forced. When I didn't know what to say she finally asked, "Can I come in?"

I moved aside and she eyed the gun in my hand.

"Sorry for no heads up. Didn't mean to spook you."

No jokes about my paranoia? No calling me a pussy or asking if I'd finally tired of her and planned to use it on her?

I walked to the kitchen to finish loading up the dishwasher before glancing at her, "It's fine."

"I just...needed to see you," she dropped the pretense from her voice.

I glanced at her again.

"God, stop looking at me like that."

"Like what?"

She gave me a pointed look, "Like I'm some fucking injured puppy. I'm just tired."

"Mhm," I murmured and walked over to sit on the couch before sighing and opening my arms.

Syd eyed them warily as if she was doing me a favor before snuggling into my arms. After a while she fell asleep while the low hum of commercials played in the background.

Her silky, black waves splashed against course gray couch and her full lips were no longer pulled down into her perpetual scowl. Beautiful. She'd long ago shed her jacket and had curled against me in way that just hit me as endearing. I remember the first time she fell asleep in my arms...well the first time she didn't ditch me afterwards. It took a few tries.

We'd hit our first sex-trafficking ring. Young children smuggled in from Mexico—promised better lives in America. Syd made sure to slit the throat of every pervert she could get her hands on without batting an eyelash. We of course made sure to not do it in front of the kids and we cleaned up before stopping to see the kids before the authorities arrived.

We had crouched down speaking in soft Spanish as they shied away and stared at us.

"¿Quien eres?" a little girl had asked Syd.

A boy a few years older stepped in front of her before telling the girl not to talk to this stranger.

"¿Eres tu hermano?" Syd asked.

"Si, cualquiera que quiera lastimar a mi hermana tiene que pasar por mi," he threatened best he could in his young voice.

Syd smiled, "Yo tengo un hermano. Él es fuerte y inteligente como tú. Él me cuida. Quien soy no es importante. Los hombres malos que los llevaron están muertos. Ellos no los lastimaran mas. Estarás reunido con tus familias. La policía en America te ayudará. Pero...no les digas que estuvimos aquí. Diles que escuchaste ruidos pero no viste a nadie. Se supone que debemos ser secretos."

The boy nodded.

The little girl's brown eyes lit up, "Gracias, señorita! Cuando sea grande quiero ser como tú!"

Syd blinked. Before offering a weak smile and bidding a goodbye. As I drove away, we could hear the police sirens in the distance. The ride back was mostly silent.

After we returned, we cleaned up and she asked me to go with her to see Eliza the resident tattooist. In exchange for a new laptop that could communicate with the outside world and a specialized router for private Wi-Fi, Syd sat down as Eliza began her work.

Hours later, Eliza wiped Syd's reddened arm down with an alcohol wipe and wrapped her arm before disposing of her gloves. She had a geometric pattern already on her arm and Eliza added some flowers over that--all just black outlines.

"If I ever escape this shit," Syd began as we walked back, "I'm gonna fill this sleeve with color."

"Maybe one day it'll happen."

Syd snorted as we climbed the stairs.

By the time we made it back to our dorm, we showered and crashed as per usual post-op procedure. I woke up to Syd setting a fresh burger and homemade fries on my nightstand. In my half-conscious stupor, I think I just flashed her a floppy grin before she pulled up my desk chair so we could eat together.

Afterwards, we talked. We talked about our families and our lives before we were pulled into this. She told me about her parents and brother and I told her about my mom and sisters. I learned about her best friend Kalinda and her asshole ex that she still spoke of fondly. We exchanged soccer stories and family traditions. It's easy to talk about the other people in your life sometimes. But as it grew later and we sat curled up together, I opened the dam and blurted just about everything. How I worried about my family and what would happen to them if I was killed in the field. Or if I'd slip up and get us both killed.

Syd just gave me a look that let me know I wasn't being idiot for having those worries—that everything I felt was valid. With everything stripped away, the look in her glowing blue eyes reflected my own fears.

"Cole, I don't trust anyone else to have my back when we're on an op."

"Thank you," I paused, uncertain why her statement filled me with overwhelming pride, "Well now it's your turn. Spill your guts."

She chuckled at my attempt to lighten the mood, "Well now I feel like my issue is stupid. I mean I constantly think about my family but I know they're financially stable and safe. Killing them when I die won't bring any material benefit besides satisfying some sadistic kink."

"How stupid can it be? You'll probably eviscerate me if I laughed anyways."

Syd exhaled a laughed, "Okay...I've always hated my appearance. My weight was always something I struggled with, so I don't really give a shit how big I get as long as it's muscle. But these fucking scars...especially this one on my face. I can't really hide it, but I'm okay now."

"What changed?" I asked.

She flicked her gaze down. "These scars remind me that I survived," she met my eyes and her lips curled into a smirk, "That despite some other people's best efforts, I'm still alive and kicking."

I traced my finger down her scar. It started near her left temple and carved down to the corner of her mouth. A stark white line glowing against her tanned skin.

Her smile dissolved as she watched me intently. I continued barely brushing against her lips before running my finger over the crooked bridge of her nose until I was cupping her right cheek. Drinking in her features, she reciprocated dragging her delicate finger across the tiny scar from where I'd gotten clipped during a soccer game.

"These scars don't define me," she began in a serious tone as I watched her pupils dilate, "But they make for some great fucking stories."

I chuckled and rolled my eyes before turning my head to press my lips to her left temple, "You're also pretty badass."

She laughed at my use of "badass" as my lips traveled down to her neck and then up to meet her lips.

As I our clothes disappeared, I knew this time was different—slow and more emotions of desire and understanding rather than the lust filled occasions driven with the need to forget. When I awoke the next morning to Syd still asleep and curled up against me I thought I was hallucinating. The weak morning sunlight danced over her skin and I gazed in awe at her lashes delicately curled up and her soft breaths.

When Syd began to wake up, she flashed me a sleepy grin and I swear my heart stopped. And that's coming from someone who actually flat lined.

"You're still here," I breathed.

Her smile dimmed, "Yeah, I figured out that I actually still have feelings and they're tough as shit to suppress."

"What?"

"Look, I know I've bailed that last few times we had sex," she sat up, pulling the sheets up to cover her, "That's on me and I owe you an explanation."

"Okay."

Her dark curls flopped down into her face that was both adorable and incredibly attractive.

She sighed, "I was scared, Cole. I was fucking scared as shit because I have feelings for you and I don't know what to do with them."

She likes me back? Holy shit...is she screwing with me?

"Please say something," she said with the slightest panic and resignation in her voice.

I looked at her as she maintained her gaze flicked down. Her hair fell to partially obscure her face as she seemed to be bracing herself.

"I guess this kinda saves me the 'what are we' question," I joke in attempt to lighten the mood, "Because I really like you too. You drive me fucking insane and I can't stop thinking about you."

Her head shoots up as an awestruck smile graces her face.

"Does that mean you're my girlfriend now?" I ask and immediately regret it as her face falls.

"I want nothing more in this moment than for you to be my boyfriend. But I'm fucking terrified to put a label on it because it makes it seem so real. In our line of work...good things are so often ripped away in the cruelest fucking way possible and they leave," her voice ever so slightly cracks at the end.

"I'll never leave you," I promised, tucking a strand of hair behind her ear.

She gave me a smile, "Don't make promises you can't keep."

01111001

Later on we had to learn to how to ride a motorcycle for an assignment so Syd and I went together to get fitted for matching leather jackets. Those had to have been one of my first large purchases using my compensation from the agency, but it was a good buy—good ventilation, rugged material, lots of pockets, and great impact protection. Syd nearly threw a hissy fit when I told her I was paying. I figured she'd laugh in my face if I tried to give her promise ring or anything along those lines. Plus, it's not like I was about to sit down and make a fucking friendship bracelet and ask her to be my best friend for life. The jacket seemed more fitting and much more practical.

"Listen, Syd," I placed a hand on her shoulder as I suppressed laughter, "Before you come at me with your whole 'I'm a strong woman who doesn't need no man' I'm doing this because I want to. It's also something to mark whatever this thing is between us. We agreed to be exclusive, to honesty, trust, and vulnerability. I figured this could be a superior alternative to a promise ring or flowers. It's more of a promise to look out for the other person and a symbol of our agreement to explore our feelings for each other. It's our protection from all the stuff thrown our way."

Syd just gave me look to signal how I still managed to be embarrassingly cheesy and argue that since it's a promise for us to look out for the other, that she should at least pay for hers. When I didn't budge, she sighed with a small smile and leaned over to kiss me.

"Thank you, Cole."