Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

He was tired. Felt the exhaustion deep in his bones. They’d been up all night putting in the data brought back by the scouting parties in the separate sections around camp. In the month that had passed since Mount Weather and Clarke’s disappearance, they had learned a great deal about their surroundings and neighbors. Most of them were peaceful. An unspoken understanding between them all that balanced on the knife’s edge. 

Blinking at the board, he lowered his head and pinched the bridge of his nose. It may be time for a break. 

Stepping from around the board, he opened his mouth, about to ask Abby if she wanted to grab a bite to eat or take a walk, but stopped short at the sight in front of him. There on the couch, she had fallen asleep. His lips pulled up at the sight of her. Head tipped back, hand on her chest, still clutching the datapad she’d been reading moments before. Her long, honey-colored hair, usually worn up with the rising heat, had been left down, and it spilled in a wavy cascade over her shoulders. 

She’d insisted for days she was fine. Working all hours as a doctor and chancellor, but he’d known better and pestered her enough to get her away for small breaks and lunches, but God, she was stubborn, and convincing her to rest was about as easy as getting Indra to smile. 

He walked over and placed the data pad down softly on the edge of the desk, then took a seat in a chair close to her. His gaze fell over her, and he tried to let the stress of these last months, hell, years, fall away. For a moment, he allowed himself this opportunity, while she slept, to drink her in, in the way he normally couldn’t or shouldn’t. She was his friend and chancellor, after all. 

Thinking of her as anything else would be… foolish of him, not after everything he’d done. 

He swallowed hard, a memory coming back to him all those months back with Callie...

Her tone had been hardened, cold. He assumed it had been because of his callousness toward Abby and her execution, but no. 

“Have you ever thought about why you hate her so much?”

His brow furrowed, and he turned away from his drink to face her. “I’m sorry?”

She walked away from the untouched drink he had poured for her and stared out the window into the black void of space. “For a while, I wondered why you wasted all your energy fighting her. Until I realized she was the only one you fought.”

His eyes widened perceptively, and though he knew exactly what she was saying, he asked, “What are you implying?”

“Oh, come on, Marcus.” She had laughed, and oh, what a humorless laugh it was, and it irked him. “How long are you going to lie to yourself about her?”

The corners of his lips had pulled down. And despite a feeling of dread twisting his stomach into knots, he hardened his expression. “I have no idea what you’re talking about.”

“I’m talking about you and your feelings for Abby.”

He had scoffed. The very notion was absurd. Turning back, he took his glass filled with the amber liquid before facing her. Hand raised, he pointed to the door in the direction of the airlock. “In case you have forgotten, it was me who made the decision to execute her, and who almost did not two days ago.”

“Oh, I haven’t.” She dropped her arms at her sides and took a step toward him. Her eyes searched his like she was looking for something, but he couldn’t be sure of what. “And I doubt you have either, have you?”

The corners of his lips pulled up. She thought she had him pegged as some sort of pinning fool. But what she couldn’t understand was that even if he were, he’d meant what he said to her days ago. Love, friendship, family. These were luxuries they couldn’t afford. 

He downed his drink in one large gulp and enjoyed the numbing burn a moment before he spoke. “Why don’t you just save us both some time and just say what you came here to say?”

“That’s just it. There’s nothing for me to say because I’m not the one you can’t stop thinking about. See you around, Kane.”

That was the last time he saw Callie. He wasn’t sure what made him recall the memory, but looking back now while being there with Abby, he could finally admit to himself at least that he’d always… that there had always been something there. As terrible as that was, as ridiculous a notion that she could ever love someone like him, well… that was all over now anyway. 

She moved then, turned her head to the side in her sleep. The data pad fell, slipping onto her lap. Getting to his feet, he took the two steps that separated them and reached out, taking the small device from her lap, and paused. Reaching out, he bent over and brushed the lock of hair that had fallen in her face away. 

He should go for a walk. Otherwise, he might find himself watching her and thinking about what-ifs. And, as he knew all too well, thoughts of that kind would do nothing but make the longing in his heart that much more difficult to ignore.

Chapter Text

She’s comforted by his arms around her. By his deep, even breaths on her neck. She wants to sleep. Her body craves it so badly; she’s exhausted. It’s been four days since they woke up from Alie’s control. Four nights, she’s tried and failed to keep the dreams of what she’d done from haunting her. 

Eventually, her body wins over her mind, and her eyes drift shut. She’s not sure how long she sleeps, but just as it always does, the nightmares come, and once again she wakes screaming. 

He’s there. He’s right there pulling her to him. Whispering her name, telling her over and over he’s got her, that it was a dream. 

She knows this. God, does she, but tears still stream down her face. She’s completely bare to him. They sleep naked. They have been there since their second night, as after the first, they both realized their clothes would come off again sometime during the night. They were insatiable. 

His murmurings calm her rapidly beating heart, but the images and the sounds of him screaming are still there when she closes her eyes. Of her hovering over him, questioning him about Clarke, her eyes seeing him, seeing the desperation in his warm, loving eyes, pleading with her to “Wake up,” but being unable to care.

She’s in The City of Light when he gives in. It’s for her he finally rescinds, and his utter devotion to her after everything makes the tears come faster. 

“Abby, Abby, look at me.”

He’s taking her by the shoulders. Somehow she’s in his lap, straddling him with her head on his chest. She moves away reluctantly from his embrace, and blinks and blinks away the tears as he stares into her eyes. 

One of his hands comes up, fingertips brush away the hair that’s fallen around her face before cupping her face in his hands, then tells her, “I’m all right.”

He knows, of course, and she nods and swallows because dammit, she can’t move past this. She tried to apologize to him once before, but they’d been busy getting their people out of the city and focusing on what comes next, that she hadn’t gotten to tell him how sorry she is. 

Her hands lift and wrap around his wrists gently. “I did this to you,” she blurts, and it confuses him, she thinks, because his brow furrows. 

But it’s only a moment before he’s shaking his head, brushing her tears away with his thumbs and telling her, “No, this wasn’t you. Just like it wasn’t you who tortured Clarke or stepped off that barrel.” His eyes flick down, and she knows he’s staring at the fading bruise on her neck. 

And it’s when he drops a hand and rests it there, his thumb sliding across her healing skin, she thinks how much she loves him that her mind whispers, six months, and her anger replaces her guilt. 

The dwindling time before the next disaster is another constant worry that creeps into her mind every time she looks at the man she loves. It’s unfair, she thinks. How can they live through all of this only to be faced with another demise? And how can she and Marcus live enough moments together for a lifetime and try to save the world? 

She’d laugh if it wasn’t so Goddamn sad. 

Dreams and imminent death aside, she’s happy and so ridiculously in love with the man staring at her that she wants to scream. She’s not ready for it to end. She’s not prepared to lose him. To lose them. 

She reaches up in the same reverent way she did all those weeks before and takes his face in her hands. His eyes search hers, but she says nothing. Instead, she leans forward and presses her lips to his. There’s a sound, a groan, and she’s not sure if it’s his or hers, and it doesn’t matter. His mouth softens, his tongue swipes over the seam of her lips, and she opens for him. Their tongues collide, and their kiss turns from soft to hard in a matter of heartbeats. 

The world may be coming apart around them, but here and now, it’s just them and their love and their need for one another. 

She feels him beneath her. He’s already hard, and she shifts on her knees and rises without breaking their kiss. His hands fall to cup her, pulling her against him, trapping his length between them. Her heart thunders in her chest so loud she’s sure he can hear it. God, she loves him. 

His lips leave hers, and he kisses a soft trail down her jaw and down further still. Her head drops back, and a sigh leaves her lips as he nips at the skin just below her ear. They made love before bed, and she wants him again. Reaching down, she takes him in hand, and he’s all softness over steel. He shudders a sigh and his murmured, fuck is her reward. He’s not a man who swears much, but she finds she loves that she can bring it out of him with simply her touch.   

She finds the rhythm he likes, but it’s not long before he’s panting and placing his own hand over hers to stop her. 

“You,” he tells her, “I want you.” 

He kisses her again and groans. His hand reaches between them, fingers sliding over her, finding her already wet for him. He isn’t the only one easily turned on by their partner. She rises on her knees, impatient, and he gets that, angles himself, and she sinks down with a gasp and a deep moan from him. She presses her lips together and her eyes flutter close. The feeling of him filling her as she lowers fully is… it’s… the word exquisite comes to mind, but then she berates herself for even thinking it because who says things like that about sex? 

It’s great, it’s amazing… She gasps then, her inner dialogue coming to a halt because he grasps her hips and grinds her down on him, and Mmm, maybe, exquisite, she thinks. He feels fucking exquisite. 

She moves then. A slow, steady up and down of her hips. His head rises from where he’s been watching them come together and closes his eyes. He says her name like a prayer, and she thinks maybe it is. She leans forward and drops wet kisses to his neck and even takes a nip at his earlobe, eliciting a hiss that has her biting her lip, fighting the smile that threatens to erupt from the power she has on him. 

His hands slide from her hips down to lift her so she rises enough that he can dip his head and capture a nipple with his mouth. Her hands leave his shoulders and thread into his dark hair, holding him against her as he sucks and nips, then kisses his way from one to the other, raising a hand to cup the breast left without his attention. She moans in the back of her throat, relishes the attention he gives each until he’s had his fill, and only then does she sink back down and move her hips. She ups the tempo a little more. His head rises, and he captures her lips with his in a heated kiss that becomes deeper as his hand comes between them. His fingers stroke over her clit, rubbing circles that make her belly turn to liquid heat.

“Yes,” she breathes against his lips. He plants kisses against her jaw, her neck, and she hums and encourages and moves faster. The ache in her belly is building, tightening, threatening to carry her over the edge. He moves his hand away from her. The loss of sensation to her clit has her leaning back. About to ask him why he stopped, but then she sees he’s clenching and unclenching his fist. The guilt she had before comes crashing over her all over again, has her slowing again and looking up at the ceiling and blinking back tears.

“Abby, my love, look at me,” he says, and she lowers her head. When her eyes meet his, they are dark, filled with want and need and love. 

The term of endearment has those tears she’s been so desperately trying to hold back filling her eyes. As if her heart isn’t already beating wildly in her chest. “I’m looking at you,” she manages, though her voice is shaky. 

“Good, don’t stop,” he tells her, and then, with so much devotion it almost leaves her breathless, he adds,  “We’re going to get through this... together.”

She nods. She believes him, believes in them. The tears slow, and she begins to move once again. And as they find that perfect tempo, she thinks about how much she loves him. How she believes in hope because that’s what got them where they are, what kept them alive, what brought them together, and what will take them through whatever hell they have to face next. 

When she comes, it’s with his name on her lips as the pleasure coursed through her. He follows not long after, his hands gripping her hips, his moans filling the large room until they’re both spent and fall back onto the bed of furs. Her head is on his chest when she feels him plant a kiss on her forehead, and she closes her eyes, content to stay there until she can catch her breath.

She feels another kiss not long later, and it’s with a start she realizes she had fallen asleep. He rolls them onto their sides with his arms around her, and they shift until she’s tucked against him, and he pulls a fur over them. This time, when she sleeps, she doesn’t dream and wakes to find Marcus looking at her with the same hope in his eyes that she feels in her heart.

Chapter Text

The lighting in the medical bay was dim.

He sat on the bed, his hand resting palm up on his thigh, his eyes on it. Quiet, contemplative as she moved around the room. There were many things she wanted to say to him. Thank you being at the top of her list, but unsure how to say the words to convey how deeply the sentiment meant to her. 

“Let’s see what you’ve done.” She winced, taking his hand in hers. “It’s bad. I’m going to have to cut some of this dead tissue away.”

She turned to the counter where she had a shot already prepared. 

“What are you doing?” he asked.

“It’s a local anesthetic, so you won’t feel it when I cut into live skin.”

She watched him swallow. His face paled significantly. “Isn’t there another way? A spray, maybe?”

“The sprays are for less severe burns and won’t do anything to help the pain you’re about to feel.” She reached out to take his hand, but he pulled it out of her reach. She glowered at him. “Marcus, give me your hand.”

“Let’s just skip that part.”

She realized what this was all about and pressed her lips together to keep from laughing. Of all the things he could be afraid of. “You’re seriously going to let me cut into your hand with a scalpel but won’t let me poke you with a tiny needle?”

His intense dark eyes pleaded with her. “Just use the spray and do what you have to do.”

She sighed. “Marcus—”

“Abby,” he began, reaching out and grasping her wrist gently as his dark gaze held hers, “please.”

“All right.”

He looked away as she got to work. The knuckles on his good hand were white where they clenched the table. 

“You’re an idiot,” she told him. She said it mostly as a distraction for him, but also because she couldn’t believe he’d be so reckless. 

His head lifted. “Excuse me?”

“For not coming to see me sooner,” she scolded, looking up as he hissed in pain. “This can get infected. It probably already is.” 

His voice was rough from the pain when he replied, “You had more serious injuries to see to, and besides, it’s not like we’re going to live long enough for it to matter.”

She finished and placed the scalpel on the tray. Collecting a tin, she removed the lid and scooped out a generous amount of salve with her fingertips. As true as it was, the defeat in his tone didn’t suit him. “That doesn’t sound like the Marcus Kane I know.”

“To tell you the truth, I’m not sure who that man is either anymore.”

She rubbed the ointment onto his wound as gently as she could and shrugged. “Lately, he’s not so bad.”

Their eyes met. The tips of his lips lifted into a smile that made it impossible not to return. “That’s something, I guess.”

To Abby, it was. 

Chapter Text

His feet carry him down the hall toward Abby’s room. He promised her he’d come back as soon as he made sure Octavia and Indra were also looked after. More than exhausted, he doesn’t even flinch when the guards stationed in front of Abby’s door move suddenly to open the door.

Thanking them, he steps inside to find her standing at a small table nearby. Her gaze rises from the bandages she’s rolling.

“That didn’t take long.”

He lets out a breath as he moves further into the room. “Most everyone is settled for the night. Roan posted guards at all the doors so we’ll be… safe.”

She nods, satisfied. “Good.” He watches as she walks over to him and takes his hand, gently lifting it as she pulls back the sleeves of his jacket. “Now, if you don’t mind, I’d like to take another look at those wrists of yours.”

“Abby, they’re fine.”

Her eyes lift to meet his, and he knows his words are of no use. “I’ll be the judge of that.”

Standing beside the table, she removes the old bandages and frowns. It’s a frown that pulls a deep crease between her brows as she delicately traces the skin around his wounds. She’s done this before. When she was chipped, when they were both under Alie’s control. But it doesn’t feel like it did then. It doesn’t make his heartbeat thunder or his chest constrict as she holds his hand in hers and feels her fingertips brush over his skin like it does now.

He takes her in, letting himself look at her the way he hasn’t had the chance since back in Arcadia. And he’s missed her. God, how he’s missed her. They’ve been lucky so many times now, but when will that luck run out? After everything, and as selfish as it is, he doesn’t want to imagine a world without her in it. Fighting for peace now holds a new meaning for him. Before it’d been for his—for their people. For survival. But now, it’s for the future.

A future he can see and will fight for the woman before him.

When she’s finished, the clean, white bandages around his wrists stand out against the grime of both their unwashed states. 

She looks up at him and seems to be thinking along the same lines as him because she smiles. “You know, what we need is a bath.”

His eyebrows rise. “A bath?”

A slow smile pulls her lips up. “Come with me.”

Taking him by the hand, she leads him across the room where a large tub awaits them. He blinks and opens his mouth, about to ask when that got there, when he notices the flickering candlelight and the water already fills it. His jaw falls slack. “When did you do this?”

“While you were gone,” she says, turning towards him while taking off her vest and dropping it beside the tub.

Oh. 

So, she’s suggesting… 

Oh.

“Um...” He swallows. “You mentioned something about ‘we’?”

“We,” she confirms as she steps slowly towards him. “As long as you keep these from getting wet.”

She points to his hands, and then, reaching up, takes his face in her hands before sliding hers around and threading her fingers into his hair. Her eyes search his. She seems almost hesitant, like she’s been thinking about their last kiss, the one under Alie’s control, and he can’t have that. 

Leaning down, he takes her lips in a kiss that’s gentle until their mouths soften, and grow more demanding by the moment.

When the need for air becomes too overwhelming, she draws back, but only far enough away for her to murmur, “The longer we stand here kissing, the cooler that bath’s going to get.”

He chuckles, feeling so incredibly light and happy for once.

She reaches down then, and he feels her take the hem of his shirt and drag it up. The feel of her hands on his sides makes him shiver, and he lifts his arms, helping her remove the garment to toss it forgotten on the floor.

Taking a step back from him, she lifts her arms and pulls both shirts she wears off. He swallows thickly, looking at her bare from the waist up for the first time, and his breath leaves him. His eyes roam hungrily over her, taking in every lovely inch of skin that has taunted him for months. God, she’s incredible.

And just… beautiful.

Tearing his gaze back up to her eyes, he sees a soft amusement there. He raises his hand to gently caress her cheek with his thumb, then leans forward to place a kiss on her lips. 

Stepping back, he holds out his hand to her and says, “After you.”

She turns away from him, walks over to the side of the tub, and removes the rest of her clothes before turning to look back at him. Her hair falls down her back. A beautiful disarray that hides most of her back from him, but as his eyes drop, he nearly groans aloud at the sight of her bathed in the glow of the candlelight.

“You’re overdressed,” she tells him, and he wastes no more time, peeling off the last of his clothes before moving to stand by the tub.

He’s enthralled at the golden light dancing over her body. The way it softens and casts shadows across her skin. 

Unfazed by his worshiping gaze, she steps forward into the high-sided tub, sinking into the water’s depths. She sighs and looks towards him, smiling as she arches a brow. Her gaze lowers as she takes him in and it spurs him into action. He doesn’t need to be prompted twice. Removing the rest of his clothes, he climbs in behind her. The water’s still hot, and it feels almost as amazing as Abby when she slides her hands up the outside of his thighs as she settles between his legs. Before she leans back, she moves her hair to the side to drape over her shoulder.

Lifting her gaze to his, she breathes in, nudging his jaw with her nose. “God. We should take baths more often.”

He smiles. 

“We definitely should. Still warm,” he murmurs, putting his arms around her and bringing her back against him.

“Careful…” she warns, moving his arms up a bit to keep his bandages from getting wet. He closes his eyes, content but also trying hard not to think about how very naked Abby is and how good she feels against him. It isn’t until a heartbeat later that he opens his eyes, feeling her hands gently take hold of his arms just above the bandages and whispering, “You didn’t have to.”

His reply is instant. “Yes, I did.”

They’re both quiet, too lost in their thoughts. He remembers being taken out to that cross. Pleading with her to wake up, hoping and praying he could see the light somewhere in her eyes, and the ache in his chest when there was nothing of the woman he loved reflected there.

He drops a kiss to her shoulder before swallowing away the tightness in his throat and tells her, “There was a moment when I wanted to have them end it all. As far as I knew, there was no way out. To me, taking that chip was as good as the end, and I’d rather take my own way out. I told him to kill me. I was ready to die. But then he walked over to you and pointed that gun at your head. The light in your eyes may have been gone, but even then... There wasn’t a question about taking the chip. I’d have done whatever else they wanted me to do to keep them from hurting you.”

Her voice is soft and thick with emotion when she says, “They did the same thing to me with Raven and tried to get Clarke to do the same with me. She used the people we love against us.”

He tightens his hold around her. “That she did,” he murmurs, pressing a kiss to her temple.

She slides away from him and turns. He watches her, trembling slightly as her hands trail over his body as she straddles him. He goes to move his hands below the water, but she moves faster. Taking his hands in hers, she shakes her head and places them along the sides of the tub with a warning look. He chuckles but reaches out around her back, guiding her to him until she’s snugly against him and catches her lips with his. She sighs into the kiss as his fingers slide along her shoulders and up her neck, and she sinks into his embrace easily as they continue kissing. The warm water makes their movements languid.

Eventually, much to his disappointment, she draws away. Taking a small bottle from the floor beside the tub, she pours the blue liquid into her hands. A small smile pulls her lips up before she rubs it over his chest, shoulders, and biceps. He places his hands back on the side of the tub. 

He could get used to this.

If the world would just stop falling apart around them he could get very used to this.

He takes some of the liquid and does the same to her after promising to be careful with his bandages.  She takes a jug from the side of the tub and they take turns washing each other's hair. Abby’s hands feel nothing short of amazing as she tangles her fingers in his hair, her fingertip massaging his scalp. He gives her the same attention and he basks in every sigh she makes, and kisses the single tear that falls down her cheek. Whether it’s from the relief at finally getting here or the gentleness in simple act, he doesn’t know, but he feels them both. 

Her eyes lift and meet his right before her hands slide down beneath the water, drifting over his abdomen, and lower still. His head falls back against the rim of the tub, his eyes falling shut as her hand closes around him. Her name comes out on a strangled groan. 

“Abby…”

She lifts herself a little and slowly, oh so slowly, slides herself along his length. Marcus hisses, moves his hands, and draws her forward, then begins to kiss a path down her jaw, her back arching underneath his fingertips.

She hums softly near his ear and begins to move her hips. Moves back and kisses his lips once, twice before pulling back a little, looking down at him as she rocks against him. He gasps, gripping the side of the tub, wanting nothing more than to reach beneath the water and grasp her hips.

Almost as if she can hear his thoughts, her hands fall over his forearms, her fingers grasping and her fingernails leaving small red crescents on his skin as he watches her become lost in the feel of him. Of them. 

Her eyes close, a deep moan escapes her, followed by a husky, “Oh God, Marcus…”

Unable to stand it any longer, he sits forward and wraps his arms around her back. They press together as close as they can, each grinding thrust pushing them both higher towards their release. Their bath water spills over the sides, but neither notice; they’re too lost in the feel of one another against the other to pay it any mind.

As wonderful as she feels -and she feels fantastic- he wants more. Wants to have her all around him and under him. Leaning back so he can look into her eyes, he whispers gruffly, “Maybe we should get out and go to bed? I won’t last long like this, and I want inside you.”

She nods but leans forward, kissing him with an urgency that hasn’t been there before for long moments until she pulls away. A soft pout on her lips, he can’t help but find utterly endearing.

They haul themselves from the tub, don’t even bother to dry off, as he walks back with her in his arms towards the bed. His lips trail down her neck, sucking, tasting, nipping until the back of her legs hit the mattress, and they finally tumble into bed.

Moving and hovering over her, she parts her legs and wraps them around his hips. At the same time, he drops a hand down, his fingers searching and slipping inside, muttering a curse, finding her wet for him. Though she may be ready, he circles her clit, taking long moments to make her writhe and thrust hard against him. He takes a moment to dip his head and take one of her nipples into his mouth.

“Marcus, please,” she whispers.

In one gentle thrust, he takes her breath away. Buried deep inside her, bellies pressed together, he dropped his forehead against her shoulder and groaned. She was gloriously hot and wet, and… tight. “Are you all right?”

“God, yes,” she says, tightening her legs around his hips.

He moves slowly at first, allowing them each about time to enjoy the feel of being together for the first time. He settles his elbows on either side of her, leans down, and takes her lips with his in a deep kiss that is as passionate as it is intimate.

Abby gasps and whimpers against his lips as both of them draw closer and closer to the edge with every deep thrust. Their breaths heavy, they kiss over and over, her hands clutching his shoulders in time with the tempo they set.

“I won’t last much longer,” he manages to say, which only makes her clench her legs around him even more tightly. His breathing grows faster, and he gasps, his movements becoming hard and urgent.

“Mmm… I’m almost… Marcus, don’t stop,” she breathes, her eyes fluttering closed.

“Never,” he promises, and then crashes his lips against hers. He quickens his pace. That is enough, and with one last gasping sigh, she arches, her orgasm carries her over the edge, has her shuddering beneath him.

Marcus groans, the feel of her throbbing around him too much to bear. He grunts as he thrusts up hard into her one last time, filling her with his release. He slumps against her, exhausted and sated, but only for a moment, then rolls them, taking her with him onto his back. His hands skim over her skin, and he buries his face in the crook of her neck, holding her tight. 

“We’re going to need to do that again as soon as possible,” he says through his heavy breaths.

She looks up at him, an instant blush settling over her cheeks. The light in her eyes is there, and as bright as he’s ever seen it.

She huffs out a laugh. “I agree.”