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He finds her in the same lonely room where she told him how Tom Neville shoved a gun in her face. Her tears had filled his chest while he had tried to swallow the start of his own tears away. Her story still haunts him.
She is sitting on the floor with her back against the wall across from the only window in the room. The pale light of another morning is streaming through the broken glass before it touches her face. The sounds from their camp barely reach them.
Maybe he should have stayed away. She has barely talked to him since Austin. But the way she had trusted him with something so personal and so raw makes it impossible to keep her out of his thoughts.
Yesterday, she had walked into their camp with his dad, Rachel and an unconscious Miles. His dad had carried Miles inside a small tent in the heart of their camp. He had watched her when she had watched his dad and Miles. He had watched her when she had finally walked outside. She had looked so lost in the fading daylight. The memory of last night brings him back to her this morning.
Charlie knows it's him. She recognizes the sound of Connor's boots on the concrete floor. This is not the first time it is him and her, together in this room. She has told him about Neville here.
She still doesn't understand why. She barely talks about her life. There are too many fights she needs to fight to talk about how she feels about them. But there had been a depth in Connor's eyes that had made it impossible to not share what she had shared with him.
She feels exhausted. Her heart and mind are filled with Jason and with Tom Neville. They are filled with the echo of the overwhelming fear of losing Miles. They are filled with finding him again and watching how Monroe had carried Miles all the way back to their camp.
But instead of tears or relief she just feels empty, like her emotions are imploding into numbness inside of her. The grey morning light plays with the shadows in the room. He sits down next to her. His black jeans connects with hers. He doesn't talk. He doesn't ask questions.
Connor's eyes move over the bruise on her forehead. He thinks about how she got that bruise. He thinks about who gave her that bruise. He thinks about why he couldn't be out there with her while she had been trying to find Miles.
But it is too hard to push through the wall of emotions. It brings back too much sharp memories of his mother standing in the doorway of his old home. It brings back too much pain when he remembers how his mom had watched how Miles had walked him away from her and his old life.
She keeps on staring in front of her. He curses inside his own head while his mind battles with what he should do next. He can't look away. He can't walk away. He slowly moves his arm around her shoulder.
The weight of his arm around her pulls her away from the heart of her numbness. She doesn't want to move. She is not sure she has enough energy to move. So she just lets Connor move her closer against him. The lines of his wide chest are strength. His scent close is warmth within her.
He slowly moves his fingers through his hair. His kisses her forehead. It's a soft slow kiss. He has to respond to the hollow desperation in her eyes.
He just met her, but what his dad had told him about her and the depth in her eyes tell him she knows about loneliness too. She knows about loss and hurt. He admires who she became in the middle of so much hell. He admires her strength and skills. He is jealous because of the way her heart fights for people. He respects her for never giving up on the people she cares about.
What he feels for her is a mess. His life is a fucking mess. He isn't sure about what will be waiting for him and all of them, tomorrow. But he is sure about this moment. She leans into him. He kisses her again. His lips connect with the soft skin of her cheek.
Charlie feels the warmth of his breath and the subtle sensation of his scruff against her skin. Her mouth slowly gravitates towards his until he catches her. His mouth covers hers. He pulls her into his lap.
She finally looks at him. She doesn't look away. He can feel how exhausted she is when her mouth searches for his again. With his fingers in her hair and his arm around her, he guides her through their kiss. Her breath is warmth in the cold morning air.
He holds her until he feels the change in the rhythm of her breath. He softly kisses the skin of her neck. He slowly caresses the curves of her breasts. He can see her question in her eyes.
There is unexpected comfort in the way he unbuttons her pants and helps her to let them slide down her legs. He is taking care of her and she doesn't want to think. She just needs to know that he's there. She just wants to lose herself in the way he guides her back towards warmth, his arms and his lap.
He helps her move with his hands around her hips. He slowly guides her over his cock, over and over again. He watches her. He kisses her and soaks up her warmth wrapped around him. Her eyes are closed but her hands look for his shoulders and chest. He lets her. He fucks her. He moves his hands under her tank. He makes slow paths with his hands against the skin of her back.
Tomorrow they will face more of their life on the run. But this morning, with her in his lap and her breath close in the shadows of pale morning light, it's like time moves on without them. He kisses her again. And all he wants to feel is her warmth and his name in a slow warm whisper against his lips.