“I love you.”
~Mischa~
I wanted him to save me.
I wanted to be baptized in his skin, purified in his love. I was a sinner, or worse.
I wanted him to make me whole.
I wanted him to take away the pain and the guilt and the hurt and the wrong.
I was blinded by him, with him, to him.
I wanted him to save me.
~Out of Time~
She wanted to speak to him. Wanted one last chance for some closure, before Michael left.
Tal warned her that it was a bad idea. That it wouldn't go well. That Mike wasn't ready for closure yet – he needed distance first.
But she insisted, so Tal drove her to the airport. Though he refused to wait in the car. He wouldn't interrupt them, wouldn't alert Mike to his presence, but he wasn't about to let the other man grab Mischa again, he didn't care how “upset” Mr. Rapaport was; Tal would kick his ass clear back to the coast.
It didn't go well, just as he'd predicted. There was a minor scene, with Mike yelling at her to get away from him. When he called her a slut, Tal stood up. But she backed away and Mike stomped off, heading through customs without so much as a backwards glance.
To her credit, she didn't break down sobbing again. She was crying, but she had on a large pair of sunglasses which hid most of the tears. Tal waited till they were outside of the airport to wrap his arm around her shoulders. He expected her to pull away at first, as she'd been doing ever since Mike came into the picture for real, but she didn't – she leaned right into his side, pressed her face into his shoulder, and walked the whole way to the car in that position.
We can do this now, whenever we want.
She was feeling depressed as fuck, so she went right back to sleep when they got to the hotel. He helped her undress, then he made her lay down on her stomach. She had acted suspicious, obviously assuming he was going to take advantage of her half naked form under him. He really, really, wanted to, but he resisted – he gave her a massage, instead. Rubbed her aching muscles and her sore skin until she fell asleep.
Her phone rang not long after, and when he saw that it was her dad calling, Tal went ahead and picked up. It was strange, but much like with Mischa, he felt an instant connection to Mr. Duggard. Conversation should've been awkward between them – Tal had played a large part in breaking up her marriage. He was the “bad guy” by all accounts.
But it wasn't awkward. Tal gave him a rundown of how Misch was doing, and that he thought she'd be okay. Mr. Duggard told him everything that Mike had been saying, which it was all true, technically, but very colorfully painted and with graphic language.
Mr. Duggard liked hearing Mischa called names even less than Tal.
They bullshitted about baseball and football, discussed Ford versus Chevy. Both had served in the militaries for their respective countries, and they shared stories. And they both cared very deeply for a hazel eyed girl who was very lost.
Conversation was very easy.
“Don't you hurt my girl,” her father warned.
“I'll try my best.”
“That's not good enough. I want your word.”
“How can you trust my word, when we've never met?”
“You're not making a good argument for yourself.”
“Just being honest with you, sir.”
“You hurt her, and I'll fly over there and break a lead pipe over your head.”
“Sounds completely fair, sir.”
Of course, Tal wanted to say that he would never do anything to hurt Mischa. That he couldn't stand the thought of her being hurt, or in pain, because of him. That he would do anything to prevent that.
But Tal didn't like to make promises he knew he couldn't keep.
After he hung up, Tal pulled a chair up to the side of the bed and sat down. And stared. Let his eyes wander over Misch's body. Over her skin and lips and hair. He glanced at his watch, saw that it was dinner time. Then he stared at her some more.
“I love you,” she had whispered, shivering underneath him.
“That doesn't make you a bad person,” he had whispered back.
“I think it does.”
Tal could try to kiss the pain away, try to touch the hurt away, but it would take a lot of time before she felt comfortable in her own skin again. A lot of time before she was strong enough to take another hit.
And time was something Tal didn't have. He would give her anything she wanted. Anything she asked for, he would find it and lay it at her feet. But time was a promise he couldn't deliver, not at that point. They had to stay caught in their moments, in her timeless existence, finding each other between the seconds. He just needed a few more of those moments, and maybe she'd never even have to know his secrets. She had run away from her life, and he'd found her.
Maybe he could run away from his secrets, and she'd find him.
I think I love you, too, dancer lady. Just have faith in me.
~Shots Fired~
“I can't believe how beautiful it is!”
“I told you.”
Istanbul was gorgeous. And talk about being surrounded by history! Mischa loved it. She hadn't really expected to, or rather, she hadn't known what to expect. A language she couldn't speak, and a culture she knew literally nothing about; she had figured she'd feel lost, most of the time.
I don't feel lost at all.
Things weren't any better on the home front, necessarily. Her mom was still calling her disgusting. Her friends still weren't speaking to her. Mike was blasting her on any and all social medias.