Mark hadn't told you where he was going. Or a very specific time frame for his return. All you knew was that it would be a while. And, that is a perfect summary of your relationship with Mark. He'd have to leave for a while, sometimes weeks sometimes months, and then he was back. You never got to know what happened whenever he was gone, not really. There were a few bits and pieces he'd spilled late at night, when you managed to break down his walls. He'd distract you with stories of his days as a LAPD rookie afterwards, not willing to linger on the vulnerable topics longer than he had to.

He was gone more than he was with you. You'd usually only get a few months with him before something would steal him away from you. The months spent worrying had changed you. You'd learned that no phone call was usually better than a phone call. No phone call meant that there was a chance he was alive and well. And, if the phone call was anything but him telling you he'd be home in a few days, it wouldn't be good.

Two days ago you'd received the phone call. Thank god it was him, telling you he'd be home before you knew it. After nine long months he would be home. You would be able to stop stressing until sleepless nights become your new lover, there would be no more of that. Not until he left again that is.

The front door opening snapped you out of your thoughts. Mark walked through the door and you swore that you'd never seen a better sight. "Been a while," he chuckled as he practically threw his bags down. His arms wrapped around your body before you could get a good look at him. "Missed you so damn much," he mumbled, warm breath tickling the soft skin of your neck.