[cork] modern love. [tag; murphy]

It was cold.

It was at least fifteen or so degrees less than what she'd been used to for the past two months. Even in midsummer, the air was still tinged with coolness, almost like transitioning from spring was a real issue. The sun had set hours ago but Erika hadn't realised. It had gone midnight as she walked along the canal bank, her boots crunching on the gravel as she walked quickly.

In Machu Picchu, it was around late evening and still scorching. Erika was still carrying her backpack, slung clumsily over one of her shoulders and clunking audibly. She wasn't due back for another fortnight but things had progressed quicker than the team  had envisioned. She'd come straight here. All she'd managed to do was take a haphazard shower and brush her teeth. She hadn't called in to see her family because she was too preoccupied. She missed him and she wanted to see him. Any normal girlfriend might have waited until the morning, maybe bring breakfast but no; she was going to break into Murphy's houseboat.

Technically, she didn't have to. He let her come and go and she pleased but she was very aware of giving him some space, whether he wanted it or not. Erika gently placed her bag on the deck and swung herself over the moorings, wincing slightly as the wood creaked beneath her weight. Disabling the wards didn't take long, mainly because she'd helped to construct them.

She crept down the steps and gave a sigh of relief as her shoulders sagged as though all of the stress was just dripping out of her. Murphy's boat didn't feel like a boat. It had everything a person would need to function. She liked the battered leather sofa and the mishmash of plants. It felt nice. Erika was used to living out of a suitcase normally, so coming here was a welcome relief indeed. It was warm and cosy and not at all stressful. Down the steps and into the living room she went when she heard a noise and she reacted immediately.

It was his dog, Noodle. A big shaggy thing that pretended it was a lapdog but was more like a polar bear. "Hi!" She whispered as she stepped over, dropping to her knees quickly to ruffle the dog's ears before it could react. "I know, I know. I'm sorry, it's okay," she told her as the thing began to whine and wag her tail. "Sssh," she cooed as she snugged her tight, attempting to get her to stay on her bed. "I missed you!" Erika gushed in muted tones as she kissed the dog's muzzle, letting Noodle sniff around her as she tried to rub every part of her body against her. Sitting cross-legged in the dim light, she stroked Noodle's velvet ears gently to calm her as best she could.

"I'm gonna go and see your dad," she told the dog with a nod as she hastily and clumsily began to untie her boots, placing them lightly on the floor in an attempt to make less noise. She'd also brought an Indian take away with her, wrapped in a white plastic bag and her stomach gave a rumble. She spoke to Noodle easily and she was convinced the dog knew exactly what she was saying. "Stay," Erika told her gently but firmly as she got to her feet, grabbing the take out as she backed away. She heard the faint scampering of claws against the wooden floor as Noodle followed her regardless.

Now that she was here, she did feel a slight tinge of regret. She didn't really want to wake him up if he was sleeping. Erika was a heavy sleeper and she could sleep anywhere and it wasn't always the same for other people. From inside, she could hear the gentle lap of the water as it rocked the hull. While she wasn't particularly fond of the sea, she could definitely see the benefits.

With care, she shrugged off her jacket and placed it on the sofa, tip-toeing barefoot across the living room and stepping into the bedroom. Even in the lack of light, she knew the area well. There were more plants, a few framed photos and various little trinkets she'd brought back from far flung adventures. They were gifts for Murphy but they were protection based and selfishly for her own benefit. She couldn't lose him. She'd been in love before but with Murphy, everything else before was just a poor imitation. Weak as gnat's piss, her father would say. They both had stupidly dangerous jobs and a little extra mystical insurance wouldn't hurt. She knew they worked. If they didn't, she wouldn't have a job.

Carefully, she perched at the edge of the mattress. "Murphy," she said softly as she gently touched him on the shoulder. He looked peaceful and she felt guilty about poking him. "Murphy," she said one  more time as she ran a tanned hand over the covers and down his back in a soothing motion. "I've got chicken tikka masala," she added, as though that would get his attention.


@Murphy Regan

Pain. Murphy felt a burning pain that shot from his waist across his chest, but his body kept propelling forward. His wrist flicked from side to side, wordless and continuously more destructive spells shot from his wand as he pursued the fleeing Death Eaters, the only thing keeping him moving was pure Regan stubborness, and rage. Blood tinged spit shot from his mouth as hoarse Gaelic spells of destruction began to roar from his lips as he pushed forward, focused only on revenge.

He’d been working in his capacity of healer with a team of battle wizards contracted by the ICW to clear out remants of a dark wizard group who’d been making attacks on mixed wizarding settlements in the Middle East, where he didn’t know because he’s been just shoved a portkey to his destination.  He and his team had been shoved in tents in the desert for three days before they’d been ambushed by the very enemies they’d sought. It’d been an intense battle, almost twelve hours of ambushes and constant magic before they overcame the attacks. At the end, Murphy collapsed from exhaustion and injuries, and the next thing he remembered was being in the private home of his cousin’s relatives, a scar traveling from his collarbone across to his waist, a gruesome reminder of how he could have died.

This was one of the first times that Murphy had been able to to sleep comfortably in weeks. Tied up in magical treatments and spending time with his daughter, he’d been more focused on recovery than anything else. It’d been less than a month since the battle, and what felt like three years since Erika had been in the country. With no way to contact her, he’d been working hard, trying to keep his mind of everything. He’d even contracted a mind healer under secrecy oaths so he could get everything out of his head, but it still wasn’t enough to bring the peace that Kira brought him.

Stupid girl wanting to be adventurous, like he could really complain about that with what his job consisted of. At least he’d already promised his mother to stay on the reserved list within the ICW til his clan healer provided them notice that he was able for combat. So he puttered a long, healing by day, relaxing with his family when he could, and waited for her to come back, because that was one of his consistent things.

She always came back

So he waited.

And waited…

And didn’t wake up when she touched him. Deep in a dreamless sleep, he did nothing but turn over, baring to the world his new adornment. His arms had been covered with tattoos, much to the annoyance of his mouther, but this was the first time he’d added adornments to any other place. His scar had healed to a tiny line, silvery and metallic. Wrapped around the scar was his new tattoo. A black dragon with hints of gold and cream danced sinuously around the scar aided by magic. There was a definite hint of femininity to the dragon, almost a delicateness to her. As she slithered around  the scar, the eye opened and a penetrating hazel brown orb glittered before she continued her path.

Murph snuggled back into his sheets, his arm wrapped around the extra pillow like his life depended on it, as he mumbled incoherently and fell into a deeper sleep.

Erika let out a soft gasp. The scar glinted like a dagger in the moonlight, cold and silver as she forced herself to swallow. He was fast asleep and in that moment, she was thankful that he couldn't see the shock on her face. She paled swiftly as her stomach churned, twisting and turning as she clapped a hand across her mouth. It was part from shock but mainly to keep herself from throwing up.

"Shit," came the whispered reply as the grip on the food went slack. The plastic bag dropped with a dull thud, the once warm and soft naan breads now squashed as they slid across the floor. "Oh God," Erika murmured as her lower lip began to wobble as hot, fat tears pricked at the corners of her eyes. All of the joy of seeing him had dissipated, like the popping of a balloon. Her big blue eyes traced the scar, from his sternum to his hip as she tried to pinpoint what kind of spell would manage to do that and she could only come up with one explanation; dark magic.

She flexed her fingers as she very gently pulled down the comfy duvet. Her fingers shook as she touched the base of his collarbone and down, tracing it a few centimetres before she'd had enough. She let go of Murphy's skin as though it had caught fire, recoiling backwards as she covered her face in her hands in the dark room.

It all hit her at once; anger, frustration, helplessness and guilt, a perfect maelstrom of swirling emotions that wasn't able to separate. It suddenly became very apparent that he could have died. Erika had always known there was a possibility but as always, she'd pooh-poohed it. Of course Murphy wouldn't die. He had a family and he made a promise that he'd never leave her. Though now, deep asleep, she realised that, this time, the choice hadn't really been his. Whatever spell had tried to rip him open, to expose his internal organs and there was no bones about it; they'd wanted him dead. It chilled her to the bone.

"Oh dear," she whispered, her voice sounded hoarse and croaked as she reached out to him. Her fingers cupped his cheek, her thumb sliding tenderly across his cheekbone before she leaned down and kissed the corner of his mouth. "What did they do to you?" She asked, wide eyed and astounded. It wasn't fair. It wasn't fair on Ava to have both Erika and her father away at the same time. She knew Murphy's family was vast and sprawling but it wasn't the same. There was a spiralling feeling of culpability in her gut. She could have turned down this job. Originally, she'd wanted to but she'd ultimately been persuaded to take it. If she hadn't, would he be unharmed? Erika wasn't dumb enough to think she could have stopped this or saved him but if things had been different---

The tattoo was beautiful. The scar had healed nicely and through her tears, Erika managed a wan smile. It was such a Murphy thing to do, to decorate something as opposed to hiding it. The dragon winked at her in the darkness as he snuggled down into his slumber, awarding her time to wipe her eyes and heave a heavy sigh. She'd been thousands of miles away, away from this and away from him. It was no comfort to know that Murphy hadn't been recuperating alone but it was a blow to know that she hadn't been the one taking care of him.

She was quitting her job.

Like a light bulb switching on, everything became crystal clear. Erika couldn't - wouldn't - do this any more. She could do something else, maybe a desk job but she needed to stay closer to home. If not for his sake, then for hers. She adored her job, it was amazing but this was too close to home now. It just wasn't worth it. It all paled in comparison to him. It wasn't really anything to do with Murphy. Erika had had a wobble a few months prior and her resignation letter was typed and signed and sitting in her desk drawer. Like an addiction, the thrill had always lured her back but not this time. She'd almost lost him too many times.

The tall blonde shifted a little to allow Murphy to grab his pillow. Erika looked around the room, scowling at the various trinkets she'd brought back for him from her far flung adventures. She looked at a small figure of Ganesh, the elephant god from the Hindu faith. She'd brought it back from Cambodia, some years before and now, she felt like it was mocking her. "Well, you were no help, were you?" She addressed him darkly as the moonlight filtering through the curtains shone on his axe. Somewhere, a clock was ticking as she surveyed the statue. Historically, Ganesh was the remover of obstacles. He also placed them in the way of people who needed to be checked. Erika wondered which category she fell into.


Murphy needed his sleep but the distance between them was too much for her to handle. Erika stood and wiggled out of her jeans, kicking them aside as she removed her jacket, leaving her in her soft cotton tee shirt and her underwear. With dexterous care, Erika prised his fingers from the pillow to loosen his grip, just enough so she could tug it away from him. Quick as a flash, she crawled into the bed and slotted herself between his arms where the pillow had been. She scooted closer, wrapping an arm around Murphy's waist so they were sharing the same pillow. She gave a heavy sigh as she looked at him, full of sadness and regret but a flicker of hope and relief to know that he was still alive. "I love you," she told Murphy's sleeping form firmly. "Don't scare me like that."