Axiom Ch. 07

She took in a deep breath as she awoke, her eyes flickering wide open. Recognition flashed in her eyes and she closed them again, enrapt by his kiss. Her hands were moving all over his body, longing to feel the skin underneath his expensive clothes.

"Did you just get back?" she murmured up at him when they finally broke apart.

"Yeah. What are you doing out here? Shouldn't you be in bed?"

"Just listening to some music. If I sleep any more, I'm going to wake up as a koala."

"So what was that you were just doing?" (I don't understand this sentence.)

She ignored his question and hauled herself into a sitting position. "What time is it?"

"Just gone midnight." He slipped an arm around her shoulders as they snuggled up beside each other. "Is your mom awake as well?"

"She's asleep. Been a tiring few days for her, taking care of me and all. I know it's been hard on you too." She looked up at him and traced a line on his face. "Aidan, you look drop-dead exhausted."

"I'm perfectly fine," he said easily but she could see the tension in his shoulders. He was immaculately dressed as always but it couldn't detract from his haggard appearance. He flashed a smooth smile at her but she saw right through it and at that moment she wished that he wouldn't behave like that. She understood that he was trying to shield her from the multitude of problems that must have been swarming their way, yet it didn't feel quite right. There was just something about the cool, controlled mask of his that unsettled her.

"How was your day? You look well." He stroked her hair and tried to change the topic.

"It was fine, I guess. Moving around is a lot easier now." She shrugged in disinterest. "How are things at LSA? I'm dying to talk about work. As ludicrous as this sounds, I actually miss the office."

"There's been a slight unrest - understandable, given the circumstances but it's all under control. Don't worry, it's not something you'd want to trouble yourself with." he said smoothly. Disappointment swelled inside her, poking underneath her skin in uncomfortable lumps. The conversation felt farcical - she felt like she was a client of his who was being handled by his smooth talk.

"Let's not do this," she said, sounding defeated.

Aidan just gave her a quizzical stare.

"Let's not look each other in the face and pretend that everything's okay when it obviously isn't. We've come this far already and I'd like to think that we've made progress. I don't want to take two steps forward and three steps back. If we can't talk to each other honestly..." she sighed and shook her head. "I don't know what else we can do anymore."

He looked stunned, but only fleetingly. There was nothing to dispute - he knew that she was right. She could see the guilt on his face, the apology written all over his face even before his lips said it. He laced his fingers in hers and touched his forehead to her temple. "I'm sorry," he admitted. "I just didn't want you to worry."

"I know," she said softly. "Ironically, you not telling me anything is exactly what makes me worry."

He let out a small, bitter laugh. "You overthink things sometimes. Been reading the news lately?" He jerked his chin at a copy of the day's New York Times lying on the coffee table.

"I have. I don't know how you managed to throw a cloak over the incident but you certainly did. It's a wonder my picture isn't splashed across the centerfold spread of some tabloid."

"No easy feat, I'll admit. Every fucking newspaper is lapping this up like a pack of rabid animals. These people will stop at nothing for a good scoop or two." He looked so angry that Gwyneth reached out to pat soothing circles on his back.

"Thanks for doing this for me. I'm so sorry I put you through this."

"Jesus, please don't say things like that. There's nothing humanly possible that I could do to make up for what I've put you through."

She placed a hand on his knee and shook her head slightly. "No, it's you who shouldn't say things like that. You're taking such good care of me and I'm really lucky to have you."

He wanted to say something in return but she stopped him by pouting and giving him a pointed look before he could utter a word. Gwyneth pressed a kiss onto his stubbly jaw and hugged him tight.

"Is that what you've been worried about, then?" she asked.

She could see the hesitation flicker in his eyes and his face just closed up like a shutter. Whatever it was, it clearly meant a lot to him. She was secretly thankful that they were sitting side by side - a face-to-face conversation would have felt a little too confrontational. He just stared at the coffee table in front of them as he marshaled his thoughts. She let him take all the time he needed.

"My father knows about us," he said quietly and looked up to face her. "He knows that I'm seeing you. As a matter of fact, as soon as he heard about Marty he must have known that you were in danger. That's why he came to talk to me."

She pondered his statement for a few moments. "Is that a good thing or a bad thing?"

"It's not bad, it's not good...it's more of a lacuna."

The latin word for loophole.

"If he wants to manipulate me in the future, this will be his point of entry. That's how he'll get to me - by getting to you first."

He took her hands in his. "Don't take this the wrong way, Gwyneth but you're my weakness." The usual confidence in his voice was faltering. She could feel the walls inside him breaking down, having been chipped away brick by brick over the past few weeks. "I don't care if he tries to fuck with me but if he wants to hurt you..." he trailed off and tightened his grip on her fingers.

Her heart sank. His words were bittersweet. To love her was to be happy, to be complete. But to love her was also to be weak, to be foolish, to expose his Achilles' heel. There was no right or wrong, they were just caught between a rock and a hard place. She swallowed back the lump in her throat as she saw him facing the coffee table with a blank stare. "Would...would he really? Would he do something like that?" she asked nervously.

Aidan's jaw hardened and his pupils constricted into tiny pinpricks of fury. "You don't know what kind of a man he is, Gwyneth."

She could hear the anger returning to his voice. What was Nicholas Scodelario really like? Was he really so abominable that his own son couldn't trust him with a personal relationship? What could he have done to earn this kind of hate? She had so many questions but the rigid mask of long-buried anger on Aidan's face scared her. She didn't dare ask. Aidan exhaled sharply and she could see the muscles of his jaw working.

"I've never talked to you about my mother, have I?"

She shook her head no. In terms of his private life, she knew close to nothing - other than excerpts of his childhood here and there, she didn't know much about his personal history. They never discussed it. Aidan had been really reserved about it, even as they got to know each other better.

He didn't take his eyes off the table in front of him. "I was six when they were divorced. Way too young to really understand what was going on."

A flash of pain crossed his face but it quickly disappeared. "To be honest I don't really remember much about her, only bits and pieces here and there. Playing with her, being read bedtime stories...that's about it. But even then, I've always remembered her as being wonderful. Loving, always giving hugs and kisses...in my memories, at least."

"She wasn't a blue blood - she was a country girl who moved to the city and ultimately met my father. Fell in love, got married, fell out of love. Legal papers claimed her infidelity as grounds for divorce. I don't know how true that is and I probably never will." He sounded so matter-of-fact, like he was reciting details of a court case from a textbook.

"He made damn sure that she lost everything. Imagine this - my father, with all his money and his contacts and his legal prowess and my mother, a paralegal from Blackburn - the divorce was open shut. Bear in mind this was the early 80's - the law was very different back then. She ended up with no alimony, no job, no custody of her children, no visitation rights - absolutely nothing at all."

"I don't even remember saying goodbye to her. She was there one day and the next, she was gone. Growing up, I struggled to understand. When I was old enough, I got curious. I started to look for her when I was sixteen."

He turned to face her, making sure that she was looking into his eyes. He wanted her to understand everything that he went through. "She was dead. She'd been dead nine years by the time I found out. Hung herself three months after the divorce. You can only imagine how desperate she was, Gwyneth. How dire everything must have been to have driven her to do such a thing." He said it bluntly, his expression blank and cold.

Gwyneth felt so horrified she could barely breathe. Was there ever an appropriate response to hearing something like that? And then there was the way he'd said it. So stoic and devoid of any emotion, like spitting out cold hard facts. He'd been hardened over the years - this awful part of his past had rotted and petrified into stone - to the point where he couldn't feel any more. She looked into his eyes and she understood. He'd gone through all the phases - hurt, anger, rage, loneliness, betrayal - and finally, indifference. Aidan continued to hold her gaze, sturdy as ever.

"That's the kind of man he is, Gwyneth. It's a bit of a stretch to call him evil - no, he's not particularly villainous. But he is cruel, and he's heartless. He's Nicholas Scodelario for a reason - he's not going to care who he hurts as long as he achieves what he wants."

He leaned back into the sofa, sighed, and ran his fingers through his hair. "I know that I'm just being paranoid because it's very unlikely that he'll have a reason to hurt you. As far fetched as it is, the fact is that he can if he wants to. There is always a possibility, always a chance, and that's enough to keep me worried."

He left it at that. She didn't say anything in response simply because she didn't know what to tell him. They just looked at each other in silence as Gwyneth tried to digest everything that he just told her. She didn't even know where to start. Hearing his story made her want to comfort him and sympathize but she knew that they were beyond that now. He wasn't talking about this because he wanted to weep about his lost childhood. He brought this up because he was concerned about the future. The future that looked to be in a very precarious position right now. Was that what he was trying to tell her?

"Does this mean...do you think that we shouldn't be with each other?" she asked in a timid voice.

"Not at all." He seized her hands and pulled her close. "Make no mistake, I want to be with you. When I told you that I am never going to leave you, I meant it. I promised that I would take good care of you and that's precisely what I'm going to do." He gently stroked her uninjured cheek, the look in his eyes soft. "I just have to make sure that he'll never be able to touch you and figure out a bastion of defense against any possible chances. I'll find the answer soon, don't worry. That's all."

He leaned back into his seat and she could hear the confidence returning to his voice. He sounded like his sophisticated, assured self again, ready and confident to take on the world. "Sorry about the lengthy rant back there, I suppose I digressed quite a bit. You're not feeling well and here I am, unloading all of this on you. I'm so sorry, Gwyneth." He brought her hands to his lips and kissed her fingers. "But I promise, there's nothing for you to fear. Trust me, everything is under control. Have a little faith in your friendly neighborhood Berg."

"Oh, god." She let out a shaky laugh, feeling a little overwhelmed by everything they'd just talked about. "You have no idea how glad I am that you're telling me all this." She held his face in her hands and looked him in the eyes. "I can't believe you kept this from me, Aidan. Jesus, no wonder you look so strung out."

"I'm so sorry. I didn't mean to upset you. And I definitely do not look strung out - you're just coddling me."

"Yeah? You look like a beat-up raccoon," she mumbled, rolling her eyes and sighing. "You really think we'll be fine?"

"We'll be absolutely fine," he affirmed. "Now you should be concentrating on getting well. How are the wounds healing?"

"They're healing up very nicely." She pulled up a little bit of her t-shirt to show him her abdomen. The stab wounds themselves were healing fast and had scabbed over by now but the wound that made the biggest impact was the one for her laparotomy. To fix her up they had to open her up first, leaving a long midline scar tracing vertically over her belly with the stitches still in place. Aidan visibly winced at the sight of the wound and he reached out, just barely skimming his fingers over the injuries with the lightest touch. She knew that he was afraid of hurting her.

"Stitches are coming out this weekend," she explained as she saw one of his fingers dance over the black thread. "Told you I'll be fine," she tried to reassure him.

He looked up at her with a strange, unreadable expression on his face. "You're holding up so well, Gwyneth and I think it's incredible. Are you sure you're alright? Do you want to...talk about that night?"

"I'd rather not talk about it, if it's okay with you." She could see the doubt on his face. "I know you're worried, hell, everyone is. And I appreciate it, really but to tell you the truth I feel perfectly fine. I'm not scared or traumatized or anything. It happened and I'm glad I came out of it alive. That's all it is to me."

"Are you absolutely certain?"

She sighed in mild exasperation but turned it into a small smile. "I'm positive. Just because I don't go around putting on airs, doesn't mean I'm all soft on the inside. I'm tougher than I look, you know. When I say I'm okay, it really does mean that I'm okay. If I ever feel like something's wrong," she pressed her nose into his shoulder, "I'll come to you, I promise."

"Please do. Anything wrong, just tell me, alright? Talk to me."

"Yes, boss." She gave him a mock salute.

He pulled her close for a deep kiss, running his fingers through her hair as he tasted the soft sweetness of her lips. "We should get you back to bed," he murmured into her cheek.

"I don't want to sleep anymore, I'm not tired!" She knew that she sounded like a petulant child.

He gave her the come-on-now look and she sighed in return. Arguing with him was the last thing she wanted to do right now. He helped her up, supporting her with one arm as they hobbled over to the bedroom that had been prepared just for her - Aidan had insisted on it because he didn't want his daily schedule to interfere with her rest. She loved how he tucked her into bed, pulling up the duvet and smoothing it over her chest as she snuggled in the covers. In the dim light his cheekbones looked more pronounced and she realized what Dylan meant when he said that he was better looking than Aidan.

Maybe he had a point - Aidan definitely wasn't conventionally good-looking, but in her eyes he was as handsome as anyone could be. And when he had on that one special smile, the one she knew was for her and only her, it was more than enough to fill her heart with enough affection to make it burst. He leaned over to kiss her forehead and a wave of girly pleasure washed over her.

"Goodnight, darling. Sleep well, I love you." he whispered. She could hear him switch off the bedside light with a click, along with the rustle of his clothing as he moved away and the quiet sound of the door closing.

Except that she didn't. For the next few hours she tossed and turned, fidgeting restlessly in bed as her brain refused to hibernate. Thoughts of the conversation she had with Aidan swirled in her mind and she couldn't help but try to analyze every aspect of the scenario. Over the past few days she'd seen a whole new side of him she never thought existed - of course he could be easy and charming and there was that bitter, slightly introverted facet to him - but this kind of vulnerability was new.

She never thought that Aidan Scodelario would actually be worried, especially considering that his Type A personality usually was more angry than it was fearful.

And there was that story about his mother and the childhood that never was, his parent-less upbringing that left him with no one other than a brother to cling on to and grow up with. Could that be the reason he got along so well with her own mother, then? Maternal intuition was a force more often right than wrong, she thought and perhaps that was it.

Sighing, she threw off the duvet and clambered out of bed gingerly. She padded over to his bedroom and quietly edged the door open, poking her head through to check if he was asleep. His room was empty, the air vacant and still. Frowning, she closed the door and shuffled over to the next possible place he could be at - the study. As she neared the study she noticed that the door was ajar, leaking light and noise from the narrow gap. With great care she sneaked up and peered through the thin gap, hoping that she could observe him while being unnoticed.

He had already showered and changed, and was dressed in a simple black t-shirt and boxers. The eyeglasses were back, reflecting the ghostly light of the laptop he was currently staring at. Apart from a small study lamp and the brightness of the computer screen, the room was completely dark.

He was obviously reading through something, one hand working the scroll button of the mouse while the other covered his mouth in a pensive manner. She glanced at the clock on the wall nearby - 2.21 a.m.

His phone rang shrilly, breaking the silence. Without taking his eyes off the computer, he scooped up the phone and pressed it to his ear.

"Hello? Right." She watched as he listened intently to the person on the other line. Whoever was on the other line must have said something wrong because suddenly his face darkened with anger and his brow creased in annoyance. "For fuck's sake," the sharpness of his tone startled her, "how did this happen? Who the fuck was in charge of this?" The call had all of his attention now, the laptop forgotten. "Let me speak to him," he demanded.

Well, maybe he wasn't that different. She watched him hiss into the phone, practically combusting with anger and she realized that he was still the man she once feared. It wasn't going to change just because she knew a different side of him now. "...an unregistered debenture is a liability beyond words, do you hear me? Hand me back to Jeremiah." Pause. "Sam, have him clear his desk. Terminate effective immediately."

Jesus - did he just fire someone over the phone? She pursed her lips and widened her eyes, deciding that maybe it was better if she went back to her room for now. Making sure to be absolutely quiet, she backed away from the door and turned to walk back to her room. She had a suspicion that the currently fuming Aidan wouldn't want to find her out of bed. If he did...yikes. He'd probably -

"What are you doing up?"

She would've jumped out of her skin if she could, but she just spun around to see him staring at her with warm, serious eyes. At least he didn't look to be very pissed off with her.

"I could ask you the same thing," she hazarded. "It's two in the morning!"

"Not in Singapore."

"Oh." A little embarrassed, she looked down at her feet. Well that explained how he was dealing with an active office at this hour.

He walked over to her and wrapped her in his arms. "Go back to bed," he chided gently. "Or do you need a lullaby to send you off?"