Takeover, Break's Over

Ryann wasn't sure what she was thinking, or what she was doing. Brad wasn't happy about her and Petrov, what made her think he'd actually help her save him from Interpol, if that was even possible. Sighing as she got out of the limo she'd hired to take her here, she sent the man on his way with a payment, before wandering towards the house. She didn't bother knocking as she opened the door, moving inside and calling out, "Brad? Where are you?"

The house was dark and cool inside, the only light coming from that recessed track lighting over the butcher block island in the middle of the kitchen. She hadn't really expected it to smell deserted, but when the faint smell of BBQ sauce hit her nostrils, it almost made her drool. She recognized the scent well enough. Looking around the kitchen as she crossed it, she could see the remains of his dinner in a small mountain bones that rested on a plate beside the sink. His favorite- ribs. Seeing that slice of normalcy made her heart ache in a way she couldn't really explain. She opened her mouth to call out to him again, managing only a small squeak as she looked up to see him silhouetted in the doorway.

He held a towel between his hands, as if he'd been interrupted in the middle of washing something. Drying his hands, he moved towards the island that she stood beside, shunning the light as he pulled out one of the chairs and turned it around, sitting down and resting his arms across the back.

"Hello, Ryann." Every instinct told him that he should be angry with her, but he couldn't really stir himself beyond a mild curiosity.

She bit her lip and remained quiet for a little bit, looking down and away from his demanding, yet curious gaze. Swallowing after a silent moment, she forced herself to look back at him and start to speak, "I need your help. Something went down and you're the only person I know that is capable of helping me."

He chuckled softly, bowing his head for a moment before he replied, making it a point not to look at her. "That's it. Had myself half convinced you were coming up with an excuse to see me. Thought maybe you'd changed your mind." He twisted the ring on his finger, drawing attention to it before letting his hands go still as he sighed in resignation. She'd really only come to beg a favor. Shit. "What do you need?"

"Interpol..." She started, shaking her head, "they raided the last Circuit fight and took Tibor into custody... I-... I need your help to get him out of there."

He stared at her unblinking for a few seconds, trying to gauge if this was a joke or not. "Suppose it was only a matter of time," he muttered to himself. Shaking his head, he lifted one hand to his face and rubbed it across his mouth and chin, stalling for time. "Why?" He finally said after what seemed like an eternity. "What makes you think I'd even be willing to help you rescue the prick you left me for?"

"I didn't leave you for him," she told him, sighing and shaking her head, "I left you because you cheated on me, repeatedly." Shrugging some, the comment making perfect sense, she added, "he was there to pick up the pieces of the shattered heart that you caused."

He didn't deny her words. He'd cheated on her once with Tanya, Mark's mother. The rest had just been games of words. Instead he just sighed. There was no point in beating the dead horse any longer. He'd been an idiot, forsaking what they'd had to run around with Mark Chapman's mother out of spite, and hitting on a girl who could have passed for his daughter because it make him feel more young, somehow. It didn't change the fact that he'd taken her leaving badly. It had been more than just a blow to his already splintered ego. It wasn't an issue of wants or needs, really. He loved her, and the passage of months hadn't made that feeling fade one iota. "I won't do it-" she cut him off before he could finish his thought, ready to rail on him.

"Of course not, because you're too damn sel-"

"Ryann!" He snapped her name with authority, looking up at her. "Let me finish for fuck's sake. I won't do it," he paused there, his gaze boring into her with that familiar intensity, "for free. Something like this is going to involve me calling in every banked favor I've chalked up over the years." He let the words hang there between them.

She thought for a moment, and nodded, "fine... How much do you want?" She was full and ready to pay him, any amount he wanted. The problem was she didn't realize the cost of what she was asking. Her mind was only working in one way however, her livelihood and her relationship were in jeopardy now because of what had happened. She'd pay anything to save it.

The fact that she cared so much about that Russian bastard cut him deeper than he wanted to let on. He'd intentionally put himself in a submissive position, remaining seated while she pitched her case. Now he didn't trust himself to stand, or to be any closer to her. All sorts of urges and impulses danced through his mind. He was torn between the desire to backhand her for the sheer audacity that had brought her here and then need to hurt himself for telegraphing his weakness well enough that she'd thought of him in the first place. He brought his right hand up to his mouth, chewing on the edge of his thumb before giving in to the lesser of the desires. Fishing in the back pocket of his jeans, he extricated the familiar pack of Camel cigarettes and pulled one out with his teeth. Once it was lit he returned his attention back to her, almost relieved to see that she hadn't ventured any closer. "I don't want your fuckin' money... his money."

"Then what do you want, Brad?" She sighed softly and rubbed a hand over her face, "besides, you've known me long enough and well enough, I'd hope you wouldn't have to think I'd pay you with his money. I have my own, or did that fact escape you? I didn't always rely on a man to pay for everything until you." Stopping herself, she shook it off, trying to save the impending fight from coming to a head, steering back the other way, "what do you want then?"

"Time," he said slowly, letting his hand fall to his lap, fingers clenching and flexing as he tried to bodily resist the urge to go to her, and touch her. "I do this for you, I get him out of harm's way, and you give me that." He smiled fleetingly, wishing he could say something to repair this rift between them and knowing it was impossible. "Seven hundred and twenty minutes. Twelve hours." He closed his eyes, the tightening around them an indication of his only fear, flinching in anticipation of her rejection. "One last night together."

The request took her back slightly and she furrowed her brows together, "one night?" She chewed on her lip and looked down, weighing her options. She knew she couldn't get Petrov from where he was without help, and she didn't want to leave him to the wolves. She swallowed hard, and remained silent for a little while, before she closed her eyes and turned her head away from him, muttering, "fine..."

"Act like it's a fuckin' death sentence why don't you?" He snapped the words, shaking his head as he finally rose to his feet. "There was a time you used to enjoy my company." The cigarette bobbed between his lips, the ashes dropping down like snow on the front of his black tee. He took a few steps towards her, keeping the island between them as he studied her silently. Almost as if daring her to bolt, he moved closer, leaning into the light to rest his elbows on the granite countertop as he set the cigarette down in the ashtray there. For a long span neither of them spoke, both caught in that battle of gazes. "You look good," he said finally, breaking the silence.

She squirmed slightly and nodded, "thanks. I feel good too, aside from the fact that the man I've been seeing has been taken into custody." Casting a glance to the side, she added, "I imagine you want me to stay tonight then?"

"I'd like that." He said the words with frank honesty as he straightened up, "I've missed you."

She didn't return the sentiment, she couldn't, she didn't feel it. The pain of what he'd put her through made her slightly bitter. Instead of acknowledging it, she asked, "are the horses still outside?"

"Yeah," he replied after a lengthy silence in which he crushed out his cigarette in the ashtray after taking one last drag. "Figured you might want to see them, or go for a ride. Whatever."

She nodded and didn't wait for him to say anything else before she walked past him towards the door. She figured he knew how to get out there, if that's what he wanted. He wanted her to stay the night, he didn't say anything about being friendly with him.

"Ryann," he hesitated, his voice breaking slightly, forcing him to clear his throat. Looking away, he reached out and nudged the heavy glass ashtray with the tip of his finger, listening to the screen door creak as she put her palm against it. "There's sugar cubes in the bag there. Might be nice to give 'em something sweet." The irony of his words weren't lost on either of them.

She grabbed a handful of the sugar he was talking about, but not before her back stiffened up and she shook off his words. Escaping out the back door, she headed towards the stables and away from him. Her mind was swirling with thoughts as she approached the large building and disappeared inside to see the animals she'd sorely missed.

She didn't hear his approach, although she was used to the fact that he could be quiet and stealthy when he wanted to, despite his bulk. She only realized he was there when she saw the flicker of movement reflected in her horse's eyes. Out of the corner of her eye she could see him leaning against the doorframe with his arms folded over his chest.

For the moment, she pretended she didn't see him, talking to the muscular animal and paying no mind to the man behind her. It did make her a little unnerved for him to be there. Patting the horses nose, she moved to the left and headed for the tack room, knowing that unless he'd moved stuff, her saddle was in there.

This time she was aware of his approach as she heard his boots crunching over the straw that was strewn on the floor. "Going for a ride?" He asked the question simply to hear her voice since it was already obvious as far as her intentions went.

"Clearly," she said, sighing, "I'd think that was pretty clear by the fact that I was going into the room where the saddles are." She stopped and turned around, glancing over at the black stud that Jax had bought himself months ago, "I imagine you're going to want to go too?"

"Not if you don't want me to." He shifted the ball back into her court, a strange look on his face as if he wasn't quite accustomed to giving up his control so easily.

She shook her head and turned around again, "don't care. You can do whatever you want, it's your land, your stables. If you want to come then come, if not then stay. I can't make the choice for you."

He sighed, shaking his head in frustration. "Why is it so hard to get a straight answer out of you?" His hands curled into fists as he let them fall to his sides.

"I'm no different than I was before," she told him flatly, "you just choose to see what you want, which now, is the annoying parts of who I am. They've always been there, but the rose-colored glasses are cast aside for both of us."

Growling under his breath, he moved past her, picking up his own saddle. "Fuck your rose-colored glasses, you're deliberately being difficult and you know it." He moved back towards the black stallion that he'd named Nightmare, his motions stiff in anger.

She rolled her eyes away from where he could see it, saddling her own horse as she stayed silent. Ryann had been doing this most of her life, so she did it quickly and led the horse outside the stalls. Looking out over the landscape, she mounted him and didn't wait any longer before she took off towards the mountain.

Since he preferred to ride bareback, he was after her what seemed like a split second later, growling a string of swear words that would have made a sailor blush. They served to spur on his horse towards the dwindling outline of his estranged wife against the setting sun.

She stayed in front of him for awhile, she didn't want to talk to him, she didn't want to answer his questions, she didn't want to face anything. She'd gotten what she'd wanted from him, she got him to agree to help her get Petrov back out of the feds hands. She'd stay the night with him, but that's all she was going to do.

The thundering of hooves behind her didn't really faze her, although she almost dreaded another conversation with him. Her horse slowed as it neared the crest of the hill, and a moment later she heard his horse snort behind her. The sudden silence was deafening and the view was almost overwhelming. In the golden gleam of the dying sun, she was radiant, and it took his breath away. Finally, he coughed softly, clearing his throat before he spoke. "One question, Ry... answer just one and then I'll leave you be. It's a one time only offer." Sarcasm filled the words as he tried to make a joke out of the pain that was making it hard for him to breathe.

"What, Brad?" She didn't look at him, she adjusted herself on her horse instead, "what do you want to ask?"

He sighed, raking a hand through his hair as he squinted into the sun, as if the light held some key to sanity that had been eluding him. "Do you hate me?" The words fell between them like an audible slap.

She felt her shoulders drop, but she didn't let her eyes move. She was quiet for a long while before she shook her head and told him, "I'm not sure how I feel about you, to be perfectly honest. So there's no right way to answer that."

"Yeah," he said after an even lengthier pause. "There's no right way to answer anything with us." He closed his eyes, running his fingers through the horse's thick mane. "If you want to go, I'll drive you to the airport. I don't..." he broke off, searching for the right words, and coming up empty like he always did these days. "I'm sorry, Ry. I don't want to force you into something you don't want to do." He settled on the truth, plain and simple, and cringed at how stupid he sounded.

"Told you I'd stay, so I'm going to stay." She shrugged and shook her head, "I'm not going to go back on that."

Breathing shallowly, he slipped off his horse, landing effortlessly beside it. He walked towards her slowly, letting her hear each footfall in the dry grass. "Ulterior motives aside, I'm still happy to see you." He said the words softly, reaching out to rest his hand on her hip.

She gritted her teeth, but didn't push him away. Shaking her head, she bit her lip before she dismounted her horse and pulled him somewhat, bringing the horse towards an apple tree, to which he eagerly fed on the downed apples. She didn't say anything, just ignored his advances.

He folded his arms across his chest, and watched her with an almost bemused smile on his lips. He could read her like a book, and knew that she was annoyed with either herself for being unable to bite his fingers off when he tried to touch her, or pissed at him for continuing to try. Either way, it was amusing to watch her try to ignore him. Chuckling softly, he remained where he was; almost as if he wanted to chase her like they were young again.

She couldn't help that same thrilling feeling of making him pursue her. She'd done it at 18, but she didn't want to end up in the same situation. She wouldn't do it, she wouldn't be like him. Not again. She'd hurt people she'd cared about the first time, she wasn't going to do it to Petrov. Shaking her head at her own thoughts, she looked over the land, sighing at the beauty of the shadows the setting sun caused.

The haunted smile fell from his face as he tried, and failed to reach out to her through their connection. She'd killed it on her end as surely as he'd buried it deep inside himself, trying to hide from the pain. He reached up and rubbed his hand across his jaw, torn on whether to stay or go. The latter one won out when the silence spun out into the realm of strained. He turned his back to the sun's spectacle and moved back towards the horse he'd broken himself. Resting his hand on the horse's neck, he spoke to her. "I'll leave the back door unlocked," he murmured before smacking the horse on the rump. Taking his signal, the black stallion fled back towards the stable, leaving Jackson alone to walk back through the lengthening shadows by himself.

With his hands stuffed into the pockets of his jeans, he moved back across the dry grass, lost in his thoughts.

She doesn't want you.

The idea kept looping, sparking his anger. It wouldn't do him any good to get pissed off at her for this. She came here because she knew he'd jump though hoops to help her. He'd been doing that for years now, and it wasn't much of a stretch to think that would continue. They both knew that. Once a sucker, always a sucker.

"Fuck." He muttered, ever the brilliant conversationalist. He knew he couldn't break Petrov out of wherever Interpol had him hidden away. The likelihood that he could even find that location, let alone mount some sort of siege against them was absurd to even ponder, yet he turned the thought over in his mind as his feet moved of their own accord, bringing him back home.

What Ryann wanted was more important. Making her happy, righting the wrongs. Maybe it was stupid or suicidal, but he almost <u>wanted</u> to do this and prove that he wasn't beyond redemption.

She won't come back to you.

The voice in the back of his mind whispered, making him growl as his hands jerked free of his pockets in time to wrench open the screen door. "Shut up," he snarled, sickened at the truth. She belonged to someone else now. He was just the 'old friend', conveniently remembered when she wanted something.

The fires of hate began to burn again.

And he started to feel more alive.