What Doesn't Kill You Still HurtsMature

Walker's study was on a separate part of the house from the computer room he'd insisted his fiance claim as her own space, but he'd long ago learned to keep one ear open for the tell-tale static popping sounds caused by her passing through the net into the real world. With a smile, he marked his place in the old grimoire he'd been reading, muzzled it so that it wouldn't try and eat the other books on his desk while he was away.

The grimoire spit out the bookmark as he walked out the door, earning it a glare from the green-eyed sorceror.

A folded a bathrobe hung on a peg behind the door for occasions such as these. Walker slung it over his shoulder and hurried down the hall. He'd placed a bouquet of flowers, red tulips and blue irises, over her keyboard for when she came home, and the spring in his step was anticipatory. As hard as they both worked, he enjoyed being able to come home early now and again to scheme something to make Silver feel special.

Walker loved seeing her smile.

He rounded the corner, mouth open to welcome her home, when he heard the unmistakable sound of a fist slamming into a wall, followed by his beloved's voice angrily yelling, "God DAMMIT!"

Maybe flowers weren't such a good idea?

His kept his face carefully neutral as he studied her from the doorway. She was naked, as she always was when she came home through the net, but her usual impish smile was gone, and it looked like he wouldn't be getting one of those "nude girlfriend pressing her chest against his body" hugs that he loved so much, either.

She's so mad that she's trembling! What's gotten into her?

Walker crept into the room and draped the robe across her shoulders before curling his arms around her from behind and brushing his lips against her neck. At first she tensed and tried to squirm out of his grasp, but with a huff of irritation she relaxed and leaned against him, eyes closed shut.

"Bad day?"

She shook her head, sending a few strands of her hair into her face. "That fucking bastard is going to hit her again for what I did, Walker."

"Which fucking bastard are we discussing, here?"

She tensed again, prompting Walker to kiss her shoulder. She brushed him away irritably and knotted the robe at her waist before facing him. "Sebastio! The son of a bitch my sister Azzy married! He-"

Her eyes drifted past Walker to the flowers he'd placed on her desk. She picked them up with trembling fingers and cradled the bouquet in her arms as she looked back up at him wonderingly. Her voice was so soft that he could barely hear her as she said, "Walker?"

Then comprehension broke through, and her eyes filled with tears.

Ah hell. Her sister is being battered to death by her own husband, and Silver comes home to flowers.

Walker curled his arms around her, and she pressed her face against his chest as she began to cry. He kissed the top of her head, closed his own eyes, willing himself to keep from balling his hands into fists.

Sebastio, you're a dead man.

The End

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