Ransom's Redemption

by Rhavensfyre

  “Why are you smiling like that?” she demanded.

  “Oh, Ransom.” Victoria reached up and caressed Ransom’s cheek. She flinched, but didn’t move away. She was like a wild animal, barely used to a human’s touch, uncertain whether to run or bite. “I’m smiling because you’ve finally given me the only thing I’ve wanted since I arrived here. You do remember me.”

  “Of course I remember you,” Ransom choked out. If Victoria had crowed over her victory, had made her mistake a matter of conquest or ego, Ransom would have walked away without another word. “You were the last good thing that happened to me.”

  “Then why go through all of this, pretending not to know me?”

  “That’s not a fair question.” Ransom closed her eyes. “I never pretended a thing. When I saw you on the road with Samuel, it brought everything back…but I couldn’t let myself remember. I didn’t want to remember.”

  Ransom had trouble thinking past the thunder roaring in her head, deafening her to everything but the sound of Victoria breathing, she wanted to hear that sound quicken and go ragged, to gasp and growl and howl against her like a summer storm.

  She moved quickly, quick enough for Victoria to gasp in surprise before demanding lips found hers, a quick tongue pressing along her teeth until she opened her mouth to the invading muscle. Their tongues fought and slid against each other, each seeking dominance over the other. It was no gentle kiss, this bruising clash of lips on lips, feeding off all the pent-up emotions from the last week.

  “Christ, Victoria. What you do to me.” Hating herself for doing it but having no other choice, Ransom pushed away, awkwardly untangling herself from Victoria’s embrace.

  “What?” Victoria asked, breathless and confused by Ransom’s sudden withdrawal. “What do I do?”

  The two women stared at each other in the dark. Ransom’s face was a mysterious shadow. Victoria couldn’t read a thing in her expression other than the pain in her voice.

  “You make me feel too much,” Ransom murmured. Then she was gone, the enigmatic statement cutting through the blood red haze of arousal as effectively as a hard frost.

  Victoria sat down, blindly finding the swing they had abandoned not so long ago and wrapped her arms around herself. Ransom was right about one thing; it was getting cold outside. She would have to go inside soon or risk getting chilled. She stood up and leaned against the railing. The stars winked at her, oblivious to the human drama playing out beneath their watch. Victoria cast her gaze across the heavens then back towards the house, finding her resolve somewhere in between the two. She took a couple of deep, cleansing breaths and headed for the front door.

  “You might be right about a lot of things, but you’re wrong about me,” Victoria said. Regardless of Ransom’s denial she did want her, and she wanted her just the way she was.

  ***

  Fuck, fuck, fuck. That old coot put that woman in Victoria’s house.

  Chapter Sixteen

  Victoria jumped out of her skin at the loud roar reverberating through the house. What the hell? She looked at her watch and realized that over two hours had passed since she’d gone upstairs. A second bellow loud enough to shake the rafters followed the first, sending her heart pounding up into her throat.

  That was Ransom.

  Without a second thought for her own safety, Victoria jumped out of bed and ran down the hall and towards the other bedroom. Ransom was there, her hair and body soaked in sweat as she thrashed violently against the covers tangled around her legs.

  “Noooo,” Ransom cried out in a ragged and broken voice that made Victoria’s soul ache. It sounded like she’d been screaming for a long time.

  ***

  Ransom was caught in a nightmare world of fire and smoke, where the night screamed in agony and what didn’t move in slow motion was happening way too fast.

  Images of the past flipped through her troubled mind. Like a tumbler running through the numbers, they settled on a day and time and clicked into place, opening the door to a world where pain ruled and hell stood aside and watched in awe.

  Then that world exploded.

  Ransom groaned. She was lying face down on dirt that tasted lifeless and dry. The faint aftertaste of diesel fuel and old oil was more pleasant, but only because it reminded her of her old Chevy back home. She blinked, trying to work the grit out of her eyes but she couldn’t find enough moisture to clear her vision.

  For a moment, Ransom was alone in a completely silent world, then sound came crashing back around her. Gunfire mixed with the screams of both metal and flesh and the rough bellow of orders all sounded like they were happening inside her head, but she considered the pain in her ears a blessing. The blast could have deafened her permanently. Lost in the dust and smoke, she tried to make sense of the confusion around her before attempting to move.

  Hot fire lanced through her left shoulder when she tried to pull herself up. Spots danced in front of her eyes. Tinged with a sickly black, the pain threatened to make her pass out. She dropped back to the ground and panted for a few moments, trying to keep the darkness at bay. She couldn’t afford to lose consciousness, not now.

  “Fuck,” Ransom rasped, barely recognizing her own voice. She couldn’t remember why she was lying on the ground, or why her arm wasn’t working, but she knew she had to move. The impetus to get out of the open was part training and pure instinct and couldn’t be denied. The vehicle behind her was on fire, it cast too much light and made her far too visible. She rolled over and managed to get her feet under her. Turning in a wobbling circle, she realized the burning vehicle was the one she had been riding in, now minus a few chunks and the rest of its passengers. Staggering away, she scanned the area for the other occupants.

  Where was everyone? She could hear voices, harsh, guttural. Not her people. She tried to swallow, but it felt like razor blades working against her throat.

  She spotted a soft form a few feet ahead of her, soft only in that it was obviously flesh and blood and not torn and twisted metal. She bent down to check for injuries and woke up a small fury.

  “Easy, Sailor,” Ransom said, keeping her eyes up, scanning the area around them for danger. “Are you in one piece? Can you move?”

  “Yes, I think so.” she spoke in a voice as raspy and strained as hers. “Sorry about that just now.”

  “Don’t worry about it.”

  They grinned at each other. Despite the shitty situation, they were still alive.

  “It’s good to see you, Jones, and in relatively one piece.”

  “You too, Greathouse.” Jones pulled herself up with a little help from Ransom’s good arm. “Let’s get the hell out of here. We need to find the rest of our unit.”

  The scene reset, twisting upon itself and rewriting Ransom’s carefully scripted edits.

  Ransom stumbled through the smoke and flames, her shoulder burning cold and hot at the same time. Her flak jacket was a joke. She could smell her own flesh, burnt and broken, the hot trickle running down her back told her that she was bleeding somewhere.

  She had managed to get up yet again, her arm dangling uselessly at her side. The wiry MP at her side lurched with every step and sent sharp pains through her back. Petty Officer Jones was new to the unit, but was someone she knew from her first tour of duty. Ransom promised herself that she would look after her old friend. A stupid thing to do, considering where they were headed, but they had been close at one point and she felt she owed it to her, especially since she was so close to retiring.

  “I lost my weapon,” Jones apologized. Hell, from looking at her, she barely had half of her body armor. Ransom was sure she didn’t look much better. “Do you have ammo left in your Nine?”

  “What?” She looked down the length of her arm and found her sidearm still grasped in her hand. She didn’t remember pulling it. Her entire arm was numb from the shoulder down. She also couldn’t feel the cold steel, nor her fingers. She tried to move her hand, to wiggle a finger, but she couldn’t even g
et a twitch.

  “I can’t…” Ransom never finished her sentence. A dark figure swirled out of the smoke, the AK-47 in desert hardened hands coming up to bear on them. Ransom lurched, trying to move away from his line of sight. She cursed her nerveless fingers as the end of a barrel swung up and pointed at them. Her vision narrowed until all she could see was that small black circle. She knew that black nothingness would soon flash the brightest of whites.

  They fell, toppled over each other really. It was an inglorious way to go, and Ransom couldn’t stand the thought of it. She willed her arm to raise, her teeth grinding together at the sharp pain running along her side and across her shoulders. She managed to raise her weapon, but couldn’t pull the trigger.

  “Goddammit!” she screamed her frustration. She wasn’t sure what happened next. The man paused at the sound of her voice, just for a second, just long enough for another hand to grasp the top of hers. Her nine millimeter fired, then clattered to the ground, the recoil releasing her hand from its death grip even as it offered death to the enemy. Petty Officer Jones grunted, then collapsed next to her. It was only then she noticed the hot trickle of blood staining her BDU’s. She was bleeding from somewhere.

  “Fuck!” This wasn’t happening. She was trapped. Jones weighed less than she did so she was at least able to pull her around into her arms. She ran her fingers all along the blood dampened uniform but couldn’t find the wound. She couldn’t move her and she was slowly bleeding out.

  “No, Goddammit, I’m responsible for you!” Ransom screamed

  “Corpsman...I need a Corpsman here!” she bellowed, even though she knew it was too late.

  A weak voice struggled to be heard over her bellowing. “Lieutenant, stop yelling.” Petty Officer Jones fumbled against Ransom’s uniform, grabbing at her collar.

  Ransom glared at her. Anger was her only friend now. “Don’t call me that. You know I haven’t said yes yet.”

  “You will. It’s in your nature.” Jones coughed, wetly, and something dark and thick appeared at the corner of her mouth. Her hand managed to snake inside Ransom’s uniform, just above her heart.

  “What?” Ransom asked, her heart pounding. She felt dizzy, probably from the smoke. She needed fresh air.

  “This isn’t all my blood, Ransom.”

  “You’ll be okay, you’re okay. Someone’s coming. Just hold on, okay?”

  “Corpsman! Where the fuck are you?” she bellowed one more, then broke out into a racking cough that left her breathless. A slight hand reached up and stroked her face.

  “Stop.”

  Ransom looked down at the woman in her arms.

  Dark, almost black eyes that reflected the blazing sky gazed up at her peacefully, the way a person does when they know death is approaching. Her helmet slipped off, revealing familiar chocolate-brown hair.

  “Victoria?”

  “Victoria, NO!”

  ***

  Ransom sat bolt upright in bed, drenched and chilled to the bone. Her lungs burned, and despite the great drafts of air she sucked in, all she could smell and taste was fire and blood and loss and agony.

  “Ransom? Are you okay?”

  Ransom jumped. The tentative voice, following so closely behind the one in her nightmare, startled her. So real. The woman who had been dying in her arms now stood in her doorway, alive and well and afraid to approach her. The dream had changed and had brought with it a new set of fears.

  “I’m responsible for you,” Ransom whispered.

  Her entire body vibrated with the memories of her nightmare. She tried squeezing her eyes shut against the stubborn images, but that only brought them into clearer focus. Victoria had died in her arms while Ransom had been forced to watch, unable to save her. It was odd, how you could tell when someone was not there anymore. Every emotion, whether it was love, fear or pain, flared wildly in those last few seconds before the soul fled, leaving a dull vessel behind whose sole purpose was to remind you of what was lost.

  “Ransom it’s okay…it was just a nightmare,” Victoria murmured. Another nightmare, the same nightmare that came to Ransom night after night despite her attempts to hide it.

  “You don’t understand; it won’t let me go. Jones was shot and I couldn’t save her, and then she became you. You were shot and dying, and there was nothing I could do.” She could still taste the metallic tang of fear and blood. The bitter smell of smoke and ash stung her nostrils, the faint cries of distant wounded as her nightmare followed her into the waking world. This was what she was used to. This was why she stayed alone and uninvolved in the rest of the world.

  “I’m fine. I’m right here. You’ve kept me safe, just like you promised.” All Victoria could do was hold her tight and reassure her. She took Ransom into her arms and kissed her. Tearing Ransom away from her nightmare meant she had to bring her back from her visions of death and loss. She brought Ransom’s hand up to her chest, letting her feel the strong muscle that beat beneath her breastbone. “See? I’m fine.”

  A deep shudder ran through Ransom’s body. Her tear-stained eyes found Victoria’s, but there was something about the way she stared at her, or rather, through her that terrified Victoria. Ransom wasn’t quite all there with her and she needed to come back. She guided Ransoms hand to her breast, then leaned in close until their foreheads touched. “Please, Ransom. I am here, now. In this place with you, and I want you to feel me.”

  Ransom made a sound then, a desperate and needful sound that was so heart-wrenching Victoria almost changed her mind. Despite her physical toughness, Ransom’s soul had taken one hell of a beating, one that many survivors never recovered from. She deserved time to heal and someone who could help her do that. I’m not her therapist. I want to be something so much more than that for her. There are other paths to healing. I can still help her.

  The tension between them was a silent whirlwind that built upon itself until it was almost unbearable, then the pressure shifted with an inaudible crack.

  Without warning, Ransom’s lips were on hers and she was falling back onto the bed. Victoria moaned, her body arching into the desperate caresses, the feel of a hot mouth on her breast. Her silk pajama’s melted away from her body like they never existed, until only Ransom’s body covered her. When Ransom’s searching fingers found her already wet and ready for her, Victoria shifted to give her more access. Ransom settled between her hips, trapping her hand between them and slipping inside her. Victoria cried out and grasped at Ransom’s back, urging her on. This was no gentle lovemaking; this was sexual catharsis.

  Ransom pushed into her only to withdraw a second later, starting a rhythm that was fast and hard and left them both gasping for air. Victoria managed to get her hands under Ransom’s tank top, running her fingers along the tense back muscles as she rocked against her, pulling her closer until she could grind her hips against every thrust. She could feel her orgasm building, her body tensing in anticipation of the delicious tumble into blinding oblivion. Victoria’s hands stumbled across a puckered rough patch of skin along Ransom’s shoulder where hot shrapnel had found a home in her body. Sobbing, she tucked her head into Ransom’s neck, letting hot tears fall as she tumbled into bittersweet ecstasy.

  ***

  The man sitting in front of me added a dozen packets of sugar to the crappiest coffee I’ve ever tasted and sipped it, smacking his lips like it was the finest champagne before holding his cup out to the waitress for a top off. She smiled at him and he beamed at her like she was the freaking Queen of Sheba. Being institutionalized would do that to your taste, for both the coffee and women.

  I thought I had planned everything so perfectly, then Samuel ruined it by taking her beyond my reach. Victoria won’t come back until she thinks it’s over.

  I need to make her think that danger is gone. Then we can continue where we left off. He’s perfect for what I need.

  “Are you sure?” he asked, leaning towards me, eager for some sort of confirmation.

  “Oh, yes,�
� I said. I was very sure he was the perfect man for the job.

  “I just want to apologize to her, to let her know how terribly sorry I am.”

  His lip trembled. I thought he was going to cry. Weak. Pitiful. My lip curled, but I forced it to keep moving until it looked like a smile. That made him look like he was going to cry even more. Jesus. What a sad sack. It took every ounce of willpower to touch him, but I did, patting his arm like a child.

  “You’ll get your chance, I promise. I’ll talk to her, get her to see how different you are. She doesn’t have to be afraid of you anymore. You’re a changed man, now.”

  His eyes lit up. “I am, oh, I am. Thank you, oh, thank you for helping me. God has blessed me, bringing you into my life.”

  Chapter Seventeen

  Victoria woke up the next morning alone in Ransom’s bed. She sat up and looked around. Ransom wasn’t just missing from the bed, but the entire room. The bathroom door was open and she could tell she wasn’t in there, either.

  Victoria drew her knees up to her chest and stared at the empty space next to her.

  Poor Ransom.

  No, the woman was too strong to pity. She didn’t think she could carry around that much pain and suffering inside her and still function, and the fact that Ransom had managed to make it this far alone was a testament to her inner strength.

  Then there was her own sense of guilt. Samuel hadn’t said anything about Ransom suffering from such violent nightmares. More than likely that meant she had simply hidden them from him and, Victoria suspected, her therapists at the VA. She wanted to believe that, but after what she witnessed last night she could only come to one conclusion. Her presence here had only made Ransom’s symptoms worse.

  “Christ, I wish I could talk to Samuel,” Victoria muttered, knowing that would never happen. She could never, ever, tell him about last night. The way Ransom looked at her, the wildness in her eyes, the desperate need…and then. Oh, God, and then. Victoria shivered. She had offered herself to Ransom, and Ransom had taken her, taken what she needed from her without apology. Afterwards she had curled up around Victoria, sweat dampened hair clinging to her brow and her breath coming in great, ragged draughts that eventually evened out when she fell into a fitful sleep.