Kirby Carter

Not giving an inch, you tap your foot impatiently.. Waiting for The Viking to start talking.. You have given him so many of your secrets in this trade off, and so far the only time anything is revealed about him seems to either happen by accident, or is forced out of necessity.. And even though you probably shouldn't.. A part of you wants to know the real him.. You want the truth..

"Duchess.. It's not entirely what you think.."

You scoff.. "Really.. Because right now, I think you're still lying to me and I can't trust a word that comes out of your mouth.."

He winces.. "Fuck.. Kirby.."

You begin to pace back and forth, a frustrated energy winds your frayed patience thin, making it impossible to remain still.. You drag your fingers through your silky brown hair, scratching at your scalp to soothe your aching brain.. "So.. You left the CIA, to what?.. Become a mobster?.. Why would you do that?!.. I don't get it.. And how do you know Ellerie?.. What was all that about.. Her showing up here?... God.. Every time I feel like I'm beginning to actually understand, even the tiniest part of your life.. You completely pull the rug from under my feet.. Who the hell are you, Hunter Paxton?.. Do you even know?.."

He tips his head to one side, considering you with that militant, impassive regard.. You know you're having what might be considered an extreme reaction.. But it's difficult to keep yourself from spiralling once the doubts start to seep into your mind..

"Duchess.. Sit down, let me explain.." You feel a little patronised and a flash of anger hits you, so instead of sitting, you spin around to glare at him defiantly..

"I don' feckin' wann'ae sit down, I wan' ye to explain yerself Paxton!.." Your northern accent breaks through to the surface.. It's much harder to suppress when you're worked up and distracted..

Seeing how upset you've become, he growls.. In a tone heavy with authority.. The rumbling warning sends an excited pulse to your core, snapping you to attention and pulling you from your swirling stress.. He is a firm, commanding presence.. "Sit.. Now."

At the two harsh words, you drop into the armchair opposite him..

Silent, with cautious eyes on The Viking..

Having taken your mind off your frustration long enough to capture your full attention, he sighs before he begins.. "That night we first spoke.. Outside the bar.. You called me Ragnar.. And I told you you were close.. But not quite.. Do you remember, Duchess?.."

You nod.. You remember every second of that night.. The heated teasing.. Every heart stopping look.. You remember because you had played the conversation a hundred times in your mind after you had stumbled home in a lusty daze..

"Well.. You really weren't wrong.. Lacey and me were raised by our Icelandic mother, Lyra.. She moved here after she fell pregnant with me, so I never met my father.. I only knew she met him during her travels through Russia.. But, Lyra met a new guy, got married.. Lacey was born and everything was pretty normal for a while.. Up until Lacey's seventh birthday when the guy went to pick up Lacey's birthday cake.. He just never came back.."

A sympathetic twang plucks at your heartstrings.. Poor, sweet Lacey.. No wonder the girl has such feelings of abandonment.. Your father had been a terrible man, but for all his actions you could always see him for exactly what he was.. A weak, coward of a man..

But for Lacey.. The not knowing.. The why.. That must be the hardest part..

"He just left you guys?.. Thats.. Horrible.."

He shrugs.. "He wasn't the best guy so I can't say I was all that bothered when he left.. But.. He wasn't the worst either.. And I know it broke Lacey's heart.. Lyra tried to keep everything together, so that I could finish getting my education.. Play football.. You know.. Normal teenage shit.. But within a few months, she was struggling to pay the bills.. Soon she couldn't afford the mortgage on the house anymore.. So, thats when I enlisted.. I knew I could take care of them both that way.. And I guess, I was trying to do something that would matter.. Or, I dunno.. Make a difference with my life.. Whatever.."

There is a rueful, bitter edge to his tone..

"Thats a lot of responsibility for a teenager.. Your mom must have been so proud of you.. Making that sacrifice for your family.. For your country.."

He nods.. "She was, always said so too.. .. But Lacey.. Well, I think she felt abandoned all over again.. Over the years, my deployments became longer as I worked my way through the marine ranks into a special forces command position.. But by the time I got there, I was so fucking tired, duchess.. I was tired of the brutality of war.. That constant state of uncertainty.. The senseless killing.. Its.. Its not something I can even begin to describe.. I had to get out.. I had to get the fuck out.."

His hands clenched into tight fists and you can see the trauma in his reflective gaze as he lifts those steely grey eyes to you..

Unable to resist, you stand and cross to join him on the sofa, you take his fussing hands in yours.. Forcing him to be still, and present..

You might not be a soldier.. But you recognise PTSD when you see it.. After killing your father it took years until you would begin to feel normal again..

And even then, never quite.. You sit in silence for a few moments, just caught in each others stare..

You keep quiet, wanting to give him all the time he needs.. This is already so much more than you had been expecting.. But when the silence goes on a little too long, the need to offer him comfort overcomes you.. "Its okay.. Hunter.."

He shakes his head.. "Its not okay.. You should know.. I had wanted out, and I should have gone home after that.. But I didn't.. A few days before I was set to be decommissioned, we found out Lyra was sick.. Real sick.. And her treatment was going to cost a hell of a lot more than I had saved.. So, instead of going home, to be with my dying mother, like I should have.. I took a CIA contract to fill a mercenary role on a classified coup campaign involving a powerful Russian diplomat.. That one job should have been enough to cover her medical expenses and then some.. I figured it was better for me to be doing something, rather than sitting around.. Watching her die.."

You nod, understanding.. He was just trying to do the right thing.. And finding his own way to come to grips with the truth.. So many things are just out of our control in this life.. And you get the feeling, like you, the viking struggles with accepting that..

"When I was in Russia, I learned about my father and his ties to the Bratva.. The old man had gotten himself killed before I was able to meet him.. But he was a Russian Bratva captain.. Which made me an automatic legacy.. An easy in.. By the time I knew what was happening.. It was too late and I was in too deep.. I remember phoning my mother to confront her about it after the initiation trials they put me through... I had been so pissed off.. See, I was a fucking selfish asshole.. Even then.."

You shake your head.. "Yeah, well I can imagine that information would have been a little surprising.."

He shrugs, his gaze dropping to the floor.. "That was the last time I ever spoke to her.. The last thing I said to my mother was a completely unfair, bullshit accusation of immorality.. I can't even bring myself to repeat the words, I still feel sick when I think about it.. And, I fucking hate myself for saying them.."

You squeeze his hands.. "We all say things we don't mean to, sometimes our emotions get the better of us.. I'm sure she knew you loved her.. Look at all you did for her.."

He pulls his hands from yours, now he is the one filled with a tense energy.. He begins to pace.. You quietly watch.. Waiting for him to continue.. "The day after I had that conversation with Lyra, the CIA arranged to have military officials change my recorded status from 'discharged' to 'deceased' without my knowing.. Lyra and Lacey were notified that I had been fatally wounded in combat.. And that was that.. There was a service and everything.. They folded up a flag and a uniform that wasn't even mine and handed them to my mom without a second thought.. I was officially dead.."

You hand flys to cover your mouth.. "Oh my god.. "

He slumps back into the sofa beside you.. "Why would they do that to you?!.."

He huffs a long, slow breath.. "I was recruited by a guy named Red.. So that I could spend the next three years of my life deep undercover for them, as a member of the Bratva's inner circle.. The CIA wanted an inside man, and they had known about my father's legacy long before I had any idea.. It was a set up from the start.."

You can't believe it, what a cruel thing to do to a person.. "Three years?!"

He nods.. "The three worst years of my life.."

Paxton shifts uncomfortably as if he can see the string of thoughts that runs through your mind.. Three years undercover with one of the most ruthless criminal organisations in existence.. That experience must have changed him.. He must have seen terrible things.. Done terrible things..

"I-I don't know what to say.."

He offers a thin smile.. "You don't have to say anything, Duchess.. The look on your face right now says it all.."