Untouchable ~ A Jared Leto/MARS Fanfiction

Chapter Twenty-Seven

I gaze out my window at the blur of passing scenery, the well-built suspension of the big vehicle absorbing almost every bump in the long stretch of desert highway. Each turn of the wheels carries me further east, further away from Los Angeles, from Jared's home in the Hollywood Hills, from my daughter who even now is probably still sound asleep.

Last night was Halloween, and Shelby's slumber party went off without a hitch. I'm glad I hung around long enough to enjoy seeing her so happy and engaged with her friends. Late into the night after trick-or-treating and making a hell of a haul, she and three girl friends hung out in the tower watching scary movies, eating snacks, playing video games. They also sang karaoke—which Jared agreeably joined in on, to the girls' delight—and then the kids chased the kittens around before finally settling down for a long and late giggly night.

I bunch my thick hooded sweatshirt a little more and stuff it between my head and the window to use for a pillow. I hadn't intended on sleeping on the trip at all, but after an evening with the kids, a night of preparation and a pre-dawn departure, I'm tired. It's still very early in the morning, the sun just starting to lighten the sky ahead. It wasn't just last night's festivities with Shelby and her friends—sleep hasn't been in abundance the last few nights. It's catching up to me, and wearily I decide to give in to it if I can.

I don't even know where I'll be when I wake up. I don't particularly care, either. Wherever I end up, it's where I need to be. That's what I told Flora on the phone last night. And repeated to Constance when she arrived early this morning, an understandable look of worry in her eyes as she met me carrying my pack, loaded down with fresh provisions, to the front door.

It's not running away, I told Constance and Flora. It's getting away. There's a difference. 

By some miracle, Shelby understood. Or at least acted as though she understood. Maybe she was distracted by the imminent arrival of her guests and the prospect of celebrating Halloween in Hollywood. Whatever the case, she didn't make a fuss, and I'm grateful for it. Late last night, I pulled her aside, hugged her and said I'd see her soon. She hugged me back, we exchanged I love yous, and then she was back to mingling with her friends.

The rumble of the big tires on the blacktop lull me toward sleep and my eyelids obediently flutter closed. But my mind refuses to shut off so easily.

When Jared told me about Ivan Valkov's 'alternate proposal', I could tell this was something he'd never intended me to know about. And a part of me now wishes he hadn't told me. We never spoke of it; I was too angry, too overwhelmed and devastated by everything that had just happened to react right then. And Jared's fragile emotional state afterward made me hold my tongue. Instead, the subject hung in the air between us. Like a question that had no answer.

For a moment or two, I actually contemplate it. I won't lie, I do give it serious thought. Jared's throwing himself on a sword no matter the cost. If that means sleeping with Katia Valkov if she demands it, then that's the price he's willing to pay. Could I do the same, saving not only Jared but virtually removing Katia Valkov from his life? Would it be worth the tradeoff? Would Jared and I recover from it, the way he seems to think we can recover if—when— he sleeps with Katia? And either way, can Ivan be trusted to keep his end of the bargain?

Why am I even asking those questions? Jared would never accept me giving myself to Ivan Valkov to settle their agreement and to keep those photos from getting out. He'll throw himself on the sword, no problem. He'll do whatever Katia wants, no question.

The hum of the engine, the little jostles and bumps lull me further toward sleep, and, though my mind is still a whirlwind of turbulence, of wondering if taking off was the right thing to do, my mind drifts away from the Valkov's as I slip into a semi-peaceful doze. Peaceful, because for the first time I'm no longer afraid of my ex-husband. At least not right now, and not for the immediate future.