Axiom Ch. 07

"Well maybe if you danced for me, I'll be able to sleep. I've heard that watching ballet is very relaxing."

"Not a chance."

She pouted. "Come to bed with me? I'm sure that's just what I need to send me off for the night," she pleaded.

He threw a brief look over his shoulder back at his office. "Give me half an hour," he relented and she felt a gust of triumph. "C'mon, let's tuck you in." He looped an arm around her waist and steered her towards his room. "Can't believe I'm putting my grown-up girlfriend to bed like some errant, bedtime-rebelling kid."

"Say what you want, I know you're enjoying this." He just rolled his eyes with a small smile on his lips. Halfway through the night she awoke briefly to find herself safely ensconced in his arms. Sleepy but satisfied, she slipped back into slumber a happy woman. Everything felt like it was in its right place. Everything felt settled.

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Or maybe it wasn't so settled. Over the next few months they tumbled through the motions of moving on. Some nights she couldn't sleep no matter how tired she was, for some inexplicable reason. On those nights he would stay up with her and they'd just talk. It didn't matter what about, they could talk about anything at all - whether it was about the incident itself, or about the Dow Jones Index, or whether or not Matt Smith was as good a Doctor as David Tennant - they would just talk to each other until Gwyneth found her peace again and drifted off to sleep in his arms.

She had her own demons to exorcise. True to her stubborn self, it was months before she finally admitted to having some sort of stress reaction towards the incident. After all that time spent claiming that she was okay the effects eventually rose to the surface and became visible to those who knew her well.

First came the episodes of her sitting all alone and staring into space, jolting with a start when she was discovered. She also gradually realized that she'd stopped cooking, in most likelihood an unconscious attempt to avoid being near knives. She discussed it with Aidan, which helped a great deal but sometime later on she talked it over with a clinical psychologist in an attempt to free herself once and for all.

Slowly but surely they helped each other pull through the ordeal. The scars on her belly healed way before the emotional ones did. She remembered with explicit clarity the time they'd gone back to Port Elizabeth as a means of obtaining closure. It was late at night and he'd brought along some security escort - more as an emblem of reassurance than an actual safety measure itself. He walked beside her as she explored the area, taking tentative steps with her arms folded against the cold. He could see her eyes roving around the place as if she was trying to make sense of something.

He would have offered to take her hand but she kept her arms folded, claiming that the air was too nippy. With her scarf looped in a thick knot around her neck and the knitted beanie on her head, her bulky clothes almost seemed to swallow her whole. She just continued to survey her surroundings without saying a word. At this hour, the dockyard was practically deserted and the sound of their footsteps resonated off the corrugated metal of the cargo boxes.

"I want to run," she suddenly announced, unwinding the scarf around her neck.

"What?"

"I want to run," she repeated firmly. "You can tell them to leave, I'll be fine." She indicated at the muscular men that were milling around them. "I just want to run, that's all."

Aidan regarded her curiously for a moment. He dismissed the men with a wave of his hand and turned back to face Gwyneth, who was wriggling out of her thick coat and dropping it to the ground.

"What are you doing?" he rushed towards her, alarmed. "You'll catch a cold-"

"Run with me," she interrupted him before he could finish. "Don't ask me why I'm doing this. I don't really have an answer for that. Run with me?" she asked again. She raised her eyebrows at him and started to walk backwards, keeping her eyes fixed on him.

When she saw his small answering smile she returned it with one of her own, turned around and broke into a full sprint. He followed right after, easily catching up with her in a few long-legged strides. She glanced at him as they ran side by side, tearing through the empty space in an imaginary race. She could hear the pattering of their feet on the gravel, the wind whooshing in her ears as she ran with all her might. She ran like she did that night, uninhibited and furious, sending shockwaves rippling through her body each time her feet came into contact with the ground.

The cold air bit at their exposed skin and Gwyneth was half certain she would have frozen to death but the heat from the exertion warmed her from inside. They just continued running until the frigid air got a little too much for Gwyneth and pricked like a thousand icy needles inside her lungs. She slowed down and petered out to a stop, her face slightly flushed and she was panting. She just stood there with her hands on her hips, slightly hunched over as she tried to catch her breath.

"You alright?" he asked beside her, a twinge of concern in his voice.

"I'm fine," she nodded back at him, sucking in a breath and rubbing her arms as the adrenaline-fueled heat ebbed away and the cold started to crust on her skin.

"Here," he took off his trench coat and draped it over her, making sure she was nicely bundled up in it. She wanted to protest - even with his suit jacket on, without the coat he'd freeze - but he stopped her before she could get a word in edgewise.

"No," he warned, sounding totally unamused. "Keep it on."

"Thanks," she said sheepishly. "Shouldn't have tossed the coat just now. That was stupid."

He just raised his eyebrows and gave her one of those you-bet-it-was looks, slipped an arm around her waist and held her close in an attempt to keep her warm. "You alright?"

"Yeah," she breathed, a little winded. Gwyneth looked up at him to catch his scrutinizing gaze. "Yeah, I'm good. You, on the other hand, must be freezing. You should have your coat back-"

"I'm perfectly fine, thank you. Let's go pick up the one you discarded in glee and hopefully you'll think twice before doing a public striptease at this time of the year," he said dryly.

She bit back an embarrassed smile. They walked together in silence with her arm looped through his, relishing the shared tranquility between them. Neither of them had to talk about the running to know what it meant or to know how it made them feel. Because this time round, there was no one to chase after them, no harm snapping at their heels. Because this time round she didn't run from, she was running to.

When they arrived home, they took their time undressing each other, mapping out each others bodies with their lips. The topography of each others bodies were so familiar now - every hair, every wrinkle, every freckle - he particularly loved the small mole at the side of her hip, while she cherished the faint wrinkle just near his left temple. In the shower their hands roamed all over, not so much for lathering soap as it was for pleasure. She cried out when he pushed into her, his hands holding her hips to support her weight as her legs curled around him. He kept the strokes maddeningly slow, wanting her to feel every bit of every inch of his hardness. Warm water cascaded over their joined bodies as she whined his name over and over again, her whole vocabulary reduced to just one word. With every leisurely thrust she begged and cried out in ecstasy and expressed her love - all with different variations of his name. Aidan, ay-den, Ayd'n, Hay-dn.

In bed, he arched over her lying body - one of her favorite positions, no matter how uninspired it may be - because this was what lovemaking was supposed to be like. To have a man's body looming protectively over her, possessing and pleasuring her while she looked up at him and let him see all the wonderful sensations he was making her feel. She cried when she came, from love? Happiness? Freedom? Maybe all three. They fell asleep in a tangle of limbs with Aidan still buried inside her and she thought - yes, yes, definitely all three.

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TWO YEARS LATER

"And this was at a souk in Marrakech, not far from the Palais de la Menara..." she explained, her fingers pecking at the laptop that was connected to the massive TV screen.

They were in the Kenner family home over in Chicago for one of the annual family gatherings and were taking the opportunity to share stories and photos of their recent travels. The two-month holiday saw them hopping all over the world, pinpointing the places Gwyneth longed to visit the most, starting with Malaysia and ending at France. The idea was first conceived on a Saturday evening when Aidan came home to find Gwyneth watching Anthony Bourdain on the TLC channel with a wistful expression on her face.

He'd suggested that they took some time off for a trip but she thought he was joking when he talked about a 2-month break and subsequently believed that everything he said after that was a good ol' castle in the sky. She played along, throwing in all the whimsical ideas her mind could think of until he sat her down and asked her, very seriously, whether she could really afford to take two months of leave with her new job as legal counsel at JP Morgan Chase.

She stared at him dumbly when the question popped out of his mouth. The thought of someone like him taking two months off work to travel with her was nothing short of absurd. They'd been through crazy things alright but this ranked pretty high up the list. Stupefied, she stammered out a vague answer about seeing what she could do.

Not long after the attack, she had decided to leave LSA because she could only have a long-term relationship with one or the other - Aidan or the firm - never both. His offer to help her job-hunt was met with a staunch rejection. There was no way she was going to let anyone edge in on her path, and he knew it.

Of course, he was a little surprised at her decision to hop over into investment banking. That was until he heard her chatting away with the COO of the Bank of Japan, her melodious voice lilting and dancing, utterly feminine and beguiling...yeah, investment banking looked to be a pretty good match.

The holiday was probably one of the best decisions they'd ever made together, a step forward that helped mature the relationship by leaps and bounds. Nothing could reveal a couple's dynamics quite so well as the process of traveling together. They'd returned with suitcases full of souvenirs for the family and several memory cards full of photos to match.

One of her cousins' young children streaked through the living room, shrieking in delight as she tried to evade the sibling that was giving chase. "No running downstairs!" someone shouted above the din of excited youngsters. The whole house was bustling with activity, packed to bursting with the entirety of the Kenner extended family. The adults had congregated in the living room, eager to hear stories about Morocco while the adolescents sequestered themselves into a locked room upstairs. The younger ones were having a jolly romp with one another, indulging in the rare chance they got to see their cousins.

"No, David, no!" One of Gwyneth's cousins scolded her son, who was reaching for the folded sari that Gwyneth had brought from India. All around the room, almost every family member had a small pile of gifts sitting in front of them, courtesy of the traveling couple.

"Here, David, I have something for you," Aidan enticed, digging a hand into his leather satchel. The young boy bounded over to him with hungry eyes, anticipating a goodie or two. Aidan pulled out an Iban hand-carved flute and handed it to the kid. "Sorry," Aidan shot an apologetic look at the boy's mother, "but this is probably going to drive you insane for a week." It worked as a temporary distraction, little David tottered away to show off his new toy to his playmates.

"Back to Marrakech!" another cousin interjected impatiently. "Oh my God, the place looks amazing...look at those carpets!"

The photos flicked by and Gwyneth gave a running commentary about each picture with Aidan supplementing any missing details. After Morocco, they moved on to Istanbul. Thanks to the vintage Leica that Aidan had bought her as a gift - the same camera her father had used - each shot came out vivid and brilliant. She paused the slideshow to fish out a handful of blue amulets, each with an eye painted on it and offered it to her cousins who received it with enthusiastic hands. "This is a nazar," she explained, "it's supposed to protect you from the evil eye." She smiled as she saw them ooh and ahh over it, slipping it over their necks and checking out how it looked on them. It was for this reason that she bothered with souvenirs in the first place.

Everyone laughed at a photo of Gwyneth posing with a red Jeep, wearing aviators with a cheeky grin on her face. "This is us in Cappadocia, on the way to Goreme..." she narrated, blushing a little. She pressed a button and the next picture popped up, prompting a collective gasp around the room. A vibrant, multicolored hot air balloon was anchored to the ground, already fully inflated and contrasting beautifully against the cerulean blue of the dusky Turkish sky. Even if they were adults, everyone was acting like a child again, wide-eyed and thrilled by the playfulness of the idea.

"You guys rode in a hot air balloon? Oh my freaking God!"

"I can't believe it! What was it like? Tell! Tell!"

Aidan beamed encouragingly at Gwyneth. She flicked through the next few photos - self taken shots of the couple in the airborne balloon with the camera held out at arm's length - to the chorus of envious sighs from everyone. They almost died when they saw the panoramic shots Gwyneth took from her vantage point above, displaying the majestic rock formations that rose like taupe daggers from the ground. Across the rolling badlands stood tall spires of volcanic rock, proud and tall in their natural beauty.

The next photograph was obviously taken with a long-lens by someone else riding in a different balloon. It showed Aidan pointing out the photographer's existence to Gwyneth, who was squinting towards the camera with her hand held over her eyes like a visor. This was follow by a couple of shots with the happy couple smiling and embracing each other...then a few where the two were obviously deep in conversation, talking about something serious.

Gwyneth glanced over at her mother and noted that she had pricked up in suspicion. Sayuri Kenner sat up straight, leaning forward with keen interest. Something about the photo gave them away and the excited chatter was fading, the air in the room gradually becoming thick with anticipation. The photographer's balloon rose slightly higher than the couple's, allowing him to capture properly what was going on in the basket.

This was the moment everyone had been waiting for - the money shot. A photo of Aidan in the basket on one bended knee, holding out what must have been a ring in front of a surprised Gwyneth, who had a hand clapped over her mouth.

Mayhem. The whole room broke out in a complete pandemonium, mostly composing of feminine shrieks and squeals that could have rendered anyone deaf. The noise was so loud that even the teenagers came out of their room to investigate.

"But you're not wearing a ring!" David's mother cried out passionately and the room fell into awkward silence as everyone turned to stare. "What?" she shrugged, only a tiny bit embarrassed, "don't tell me I was the only one who checked out her hand as soon as she walked in."

Her other female cousins nodded in avid agreement. "Where's the ring?" they demanded in unison. The greedy look in their eyes made Gwyneth wonder if her family consisted of lunatics.

Right on cue, Aidan got up from his seat and pulled out a ring from his jeans pocket. Pin-drop silence ensued. As he got down on his knee, Gwyneth could see the wall of women whipping out their iPhones and training it on them. She really was feeling quite self-conscious, her pulse rate quickening as her face began to color a bright pink.

"May I?" Aidan's voice was deep and husky, his expression gentle.

Cameras flashed around them as she nodded at him and he slipped the diamond solitaire onto her fourth finger. Even if this wasn't the real proposal, her heart was still hammering wildly in her chest and she felt almost giddy with happiness. It felt like it was only yesterday that he had asked her to marry him, the Turkish breeze teasing his hair and the dusky sun glinting in his irises. He stood up and leaned in for a kiss, curling an arm around her slender waist to hold her close while the sounds of cheering engulfed them. When they pulled away she could see the happiness in his eyes, and she knew that this was it. This was their fairytale ending. This was their moment.

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Gwyneth sighed in weary exhaustion as she sank into the chair beside Aidan's. They were on the porch, out to catch some time alone away from the crowd inside. After the little show they had put on, she'd been cornered by her cousins and forced to retell every excruciating detail about the actual proposal itself. It took some time before she could extricate herself from the pack of psyched-up females and she wasn't sure she was ready to rejoin the merry members just quite yet.

"How was it?" Aidan asked, rubbing comforting circles on her hand. "I hope they didn't give you too hard a time."

"They only mean well, I suppose. Can't deny them the pleasure of such frivolities, can I?"

He gave her a peck on the cheek and pushed over a mug of mint tea. "Here, have some. It'll make you feel better."

"Thanks." Her eyes fell on the table between them. "Oh, look - Scrabble! Fancy a game?"

Aidan tried to keep his face deadpan but she could see the gleam in his eye. "Sure, why not?"

As she unpacked the board game from the box she couldn't resist gearing up her competitive side. "Loser gets to discuss ideas for wedding venues with the rest of them."

"You're going to be so sorry you ever said that," he shot back with a grin.

"So he can talk the talk! But can he walk the walk?"

"If you think that I'm going to go easy on you just because we're engaged, you're terribly mistaken. I hope you're hungry, because you're in for a huge serving of defeat."

She shuffled the tiles on the little rack with her chin held high. "Ooh, trash talk. Watch me shake with fear." She started with DRAFTY for 14 points.

"Fourteen points? Abysmal. Who's walking the walk now?" He scoffed and played CHANCERY using her Y. Double word, all tiles used. 88 points.

Her face fell immediately as she looked up at his smug face and she gaped in mild horror. He looked back at her with an irritatingly cool air, oozing confidence and arrogance. It looked like he really meant it when he said that he wasn't going to let her win. Well, she wasn't going to give up just yet. She rooted around in the bag and fished out more tiles.

"We'll see, Scodelario. We'll see." She beamed in satisfaction at her play. WAHINE, 40 points. It wasn't much, but it was a start.

Aidan raised his eyebrows at her with a small smile on his face. "You're going to be one soon, you know." His voice softened.

"Be what?"

"A Scodelario."

"Oh." A blush of pleasure diffused inside her and she smiled to herself as she played her next move. Technically, they'd been engaged for almost a month now but sometimes she still found it so hard to believe. If anyone had told her two years ago that she'd be marrying Aidan Scodelario, she would have had them locked up in the loony bin. Yet here they were, playing Scrabble with the family close by, a solid rock decorating her left hand. "Can you believe it's been two years?"