A series of attacks shakes Los Angeles. The emergency services are activated. But who is this woman that the one-eighteen finds on each of his interventions? Does she have a part of the responsibility in the horror which shakes the city?
This fanfic...
It's one of the toughest decisions in your life. It can sometimes force us to embellish reality or make it disappear. And it's the kind of decision one can regret for the rest of his life.
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Chapter 1
Buck was thinking about this whole thing.
He was replaying the events of the day before in his memory. Holly had come knocking on his door, in tears, and kissed him. He hadn't given her time to escape his arms this time and he had made love to her, as he had dreamed of for over a week.
He had never experienced such passion.
He had been overwhelmed by his desire so quickly, that he still had a hard time understanding how it had come to this. He had to admit that he didn't remember how he had fallen in love with this woman.
Because he knew he was in love.
He had tried to tell her, but she had stopped him. So he would wait until she was ready to hear it to say those words, which burned his lips.
He watched her sweet face, peacefully sleeping.
She was beautiful, even with dark circles under her eyes. Her long brown hair was scattered over the pillow and her little aquiline nose rested against his chest. Buck was having fun counting her multiple freckles. They stood out against her diaphanous skin, making her even more beautiful.
If he didn't know how, he vividly remembered when he had fallen in love with her, in that cinema, as she slept next to him. And that feeling had grown stronger with each meeting.
He was feeling good with her.
He couldn't believe she had suffered so much. It was unfair. She didn't deserve this. He was going to take care of her now. He'd make her happy. She was never to suffer again.
Not after all she had told him.
The commando came to release her from her Iraqi prison, the day after Major Jensen's murder. The arrival in New York. The mission he was given. She had told him that she immediately understood that something was wrong with the behavior of these men.
They had asked her to help them thwart future terrorist attacks on American soil, but she hadn't been debriefed on what had happened there. Nobody had asked her questions. She wasn't allowed to have a phone or internet access, watch TV or listen to the radio, and she was prohibited from going out, even accompanied.
So she had waited for the opportunity to present itself.
Her comings and goings in the apartment were unguarded and she had stolen some money to borrow the phone from the kid downstairs, who was chatting on the stairs to the emergency exit.
