Archive of Our Own ^beta

Lone Survivor

Judd Ryder was a self proclaimed man's man; he loved football, violent video games, and any beer that wasn’t lite. He had once been in love with his wife, Grace, but the explosion that killed his crew had also driven a wedge between them. She couldn’t support his refusal to return to work, and he couldn’t explain the torment that was keeping him away. He didn’t stop loving her but he wasn’t the man she married anymore and she made the choice to move out.

It took time, self reflection, and true grit, as he liked to refer to it, for Judd to eventually walk back through the doors of the 126. Driven by an empty house that was quiet enough to let the ghosts in, and the desperate need to do what God meant phim to do, Judd decided to give Captain Owen Strand a chance.

That first meeting brought back all the ugly feelings he had worked so hard to shove down. It made him realize just how angry he was, trapped by his inability to let go of what was. By Judd's estimation Owen Strand was a smug bastard, hell bent on remaking the 126, Judd's station, over in his image. That meant Judd was out of a job, his brothers had died in vain, and that was more than Judd could take. He stormed out of the new 126 certain it was no place for him anymore. That was not his 126, and he wanted nothing to do with Captain Strand, his stuck up son, or his new crew of show boaters.

But then he talked to Grace. Their friendship had endured the end of their marriage, and they often met for drinks just like before. It was her that urged him to give Owen a chance, get over himself and go to therapy. She planted the idea that Owen Strand might just be able to save him, if only he opened his mind. Grace believed a new start for the 126 meant honoring the fallen by continuing their legacy of saving lives.

Grace’s talk helped, but it was Judd's pure desire for the work that ultimately sent him back to Owen. Firefighting was in his blood, and the 126 seared into his soul. He needed it like the air he breathed, and if he had to do some adapting…well, let no one say that Judson Ryder was a quitter. He shook off the fear that he was being disloyal to his old crew and resolved to go back to doing the only job he had ever, truly, been good at.

His mind was made up, but that first day back seeing his brothers reduced to plaques on a wall now, had broken him all over again. It had him crying on Owen Strand’s shoulder, then running to Grace that night, grief stricken, fearful that he was betraying his first family by continuing on the job.

‘You are a good man, Judson Ryder, and the day you forget what those men did, who they were, is the day the sun forgets to rise.’ She reassured, and instantly he forgot why they weren’t a couple anymore.

Falling into bed together, wasn’t what it once was though, and Judd struggled not to be crushed by another disappointment heaped on the pile. He couldn’t go back to the dark place he just started to climb up from. Grace represented a time before he knew there were things God can’t save you from. She still believed, while his faith was shaken, and they just couldn’t close the gap for wanting to.

Grace left in the morning, and Judd got in his truck, cowboy hat in hand, and lit out for his uncle’s ranch. One thing he still surely had faith in was the power of horses, and the wide open space on offer at the ranch. He could ride out through the acres, across the creek, into the bush, and immerse himself in a higher power that was tangible; the scent of the earth, the sound of water rushing, the touch of the breeze on his face, sunlight and shadow dappling the path at his feet. It was all real, it was comfort, and it made him believe he could be whole again.

The station was different and working with the boss' spoiled son didn’t sit right, but the job was the same. Owen grew on him, and they started to talk. About real shit. He told Judd about the cancer he was hiding, his sons attempt at suicide, his failure to process the tragedy of the towers…just like Judd was a lone survivor, and damn was it lonely. It felt like a gut punch, but then Judd found himself spilling too…what it was like to live when he should have died, to fail at recovery, to lose his wife because he lost his faith. They confided in each other and came to an understanding. A tentative friendship, born in the dark, and dragged into the light.

There were stirrings, if Judd was honest. The things that once annoyed him about Owen Strand, became endearing. They exchanged meaningful looks, private winks, and laughed heartily at each others jokes. If anyone noticed they didn’t say. Owen gave Judd hope, something he had given up on ever feeling again.

Their friendship continued to grow, despite the tension between Judd and Cap's son. Judd was the first person to know about Owen's cancer, about his treatment, and Judd wanted to be there for him; he could make things easier for his captain, keep the floor running, keep people from noticing anything amiss…and he could ignore the glares from TK. He liked Owen, a lot, felt protective of him…and so he might have to learn to like the bratty, self-centered son, who wasn’t even wise to his fathers pain.

The chemo talk, the threat of losing his hair, it was taking a toll on Owen. Judd could see it in his face, no matter how hard to tried to hide it. He knew their captain wasn’t sleeping, heard him up making tea and pacing the station at night. Owen was bearing a terrible burden all alone and it hurt Judd's heart to know it. If only Owen reached out, Judd would be right there to prop him up, take what burden he could. But Owen stayed stoic. He wouldn’t say he needed anyone, wouldn’t admit to the worries that were haunting his dreams. There were always hard shifts, it was the nature of the job, but the days you battled your own demons, the ghosts of the dead peering over your shoulder…well, those days were just worse. And that's why Judd asked Owen to go riding with him.

He was surprised at how easily Cap agreed. No grandstanding or assuring Judd he was fine. Just a question of where to meet and when. Judd happily told him that he'd pick him up and they could ride out together. He brought food, and stiffened his backbone, ready to put his whole heart on the line. He felt nervous, but good nervous, like he was embarking on a new challenge. He got in his truck, placing the new, carefully chosen, cowboy hat he'd bought on the back seat with a grin.

The ride over in Judd's truck was companionable, and Judd rambled about summers worked on his Uncle Grant’s ranch. Owen laughed about him needing more cuddles in his life, and Judd snorted in response, trying to not to blush and give away his intentions too soon. Luckily they were pulling up to the ranch by then, where a hired hand waited with two saddled horses, watching the truck come to a stop.  

Judd chewed on his lip, climbing out and placing his own hat on his head, before grabbing the other from the backseat. He  presented it to Owen, placing it shyly on the other mans head. He could barely speak without stammering.

“This is for you,” he smiled, and winked to cover his discomfort. “Can’t go trail riding without a proper cowboy hat. You ridden much?”

Judd was pleasantly surprised by the other man’s warm return smile, and his genuine laugh. “A little bit.” Owen answers, adjusting the hat on head. “Now can you tell me what this is all about?”

“No, I cannot.” Judd brushed him off breezily, turning to head for the horses. Owen muttered something about having his morning taken up, but there is no malice in it.

Judd offered Owen a leg up and couldn't help but appreciate how well the captain wore his worn jeans and black button up. It starts a heat rising from low in Judd’s belly, and nervous as he is, he can't wait for the two of them to be alone, out on the trails, with no one watching.

“You’re not gonna make me chew tobaccer, are ya?” Owen teased, as they amble out of the yard on horse back.

“No sir,” Judd grinned taking his hat off to slap down on cap’s horse’s rump. The palomino jumped forward in response, Owen barked a startled laugh, and Judd spurred his horse on laughing too.

They galloped across field after field, eyes forward, wind in their faces, seated on 1000 lbs of raw power. Owen rode with as much style as expected from a man who relied heavily on his image. Judd knew that was the real reason the last few days had been so hard on him. Losing his hair would be a chink in his armour that he could ill afford. Not when he already felt so vulnerable.

Judd slowed his horse as they approached the wide stream that ran right through the center of his uncle’s property. It was a favorite place for him. He pulled his horse up on the tuft of high ground, right in the center of the flowing water.

“We'll pull up right here.” He voiced, motioning Owen up next to him.

“Whoa, good boy,” Owen cooed to his horse, giving his neck an appreciative pat. “Wow, really something.”

“Hey,” Judd caught Owen’s eye, “you feel that?”

Owen glanced around, overthinking.

“Your heart rate starts going, you got the wind in your face. There ain’t room to think about anything else, except what you’re feeling right now.” Judd breathed in deep, taking the cool air into his lungs, borrowing tranquility from their surroundings.

“Yeah,” Owen said, but he was fronting. He wasn’t letting himself feel the peace that Judd felt every time he came out here. The peace that he brought him out here to share.

Judd sighed. “My Uncle Cash likes to say that the secret to life isn’t thinking less of yourself but thinking of yourself less.” He watched Owen's face for a reaction.

“Uncle Cash sounds like he knows what he's talking about.” Owen responded, frowning a bit.

The horses shifted under them, and Judd tapped the horn of his saddle, smiling wryly. “He’s a salty old drunk with cirrhosis, but the point is you gotta hold on to what matters.” Judd kept his words light, but his concern showed in his expression. He leaned in so Owen couldn’t avoid his gaze. “It don’t matter if you lose your hair.”

Owen grimaced with forced good humour. “Yeah.” He said shaking his head.

Judd ignored that and spoke firmly. “You gotta do what you gotta do to stay alive,” he lightened his tone again with a shrug, “and if it comes to it, it’s Texas. Now we know you look good in a cowboy hat. You should keep it.” He finished and caught the surprise that crossed Owen’s face before he forced it away. It was clear to Judd that Owen wasn’t used to depending on anyone, and Judd hoped to change that.

Judd nodded in the direction of the far bank, and the giant bur oak he was used to daydreaming under as kid. He unhooked the picnic basket from his saddle horn, holding it high.

“Over there,” he directed. “It’s my favorite spot. We’re gonna eat.” Nudging his horse forward, Judd trusted Owen to follow.

Dismounting when they got to where they were going, Judd looped his reins around the saddle horn, and loosened the girth on the saddle. He knew the horse wouldn’t wander far, so he left him to graze free. Judd could hear Owen copying his actions behind him, but he didn’t look back. He had to be careful not to lose his nerve, not after coming so far. He focused on spreading the buffalo check blanket he brought over the soft grass. Judd had gotten himself seated and settled before looking up at Owen, standing with his thumbs hooked in his belt loops.

“Why Judd Ryder, did you do all this yourself?”

Judd knew he was using humor to deflect the discomfort he felt at not knowing what to expect; not being in control.

Judd grinned irrepressibly up at him.

“I have a friend, Charles, he's a chef,” Judd held an inviting hand out, and Owen actually blushed. “He was kind enough to provide most of this. Dessert though? That’s all me. It's peach cobbler. My mama taught me to make it a whole lotta years ago.”

Owen took Judd’s hand, avoiding eye contact to observe the dishes Judd was pulling from the basket.

“Wow, fancy.” Owen whistled, folding his hands in his lap, waiting.

Judd nodded, opening the first container to give it a sniff. “He told me what all this was, but it mostly went in one ear and out the other…we have rosemary foca-something if I recall correct,” He handed over the container over for Owen's inspection, while he laid out everything else from the basket…there were sandwiches, pretentious cheese, huge dark skinned olives, along with sweet tea, and dessert.

“Rosemary focaccia bread,” Owen supplied taking a long sniff. “Smells wonderful. Oh, and this is chevre to go with it. Goat cheese,” Owen supplied when Judd gave him a blank look.

“Sure, ok.” Judd began filling plastic cups with sweet tea, setting one near Owen, and passing him a cloth napkin too. “I imagine you ate a lot of fancy food in New York?”

The glance Judd shot Owen was almost shy. He knew that he was far from Owen's ‘type' but he sure hoped to push past that barrier and spark the man’s interest.

Owen shrugged. “Sure, I guess. There are a lot of restaurants, new ones all the time. But this is…fantastic. And thoughtful, Judd.” It was said meaningfully.

Judd tried not to beam too openly. “It's nothing. Food brings people together, that’s what my mama always said, and I wanted us to have a reason to sit awhile out here.” He indicates the surrounding fields with a flick of his hand.

Owen reached for the container of olives, popping one in his mouth, chewing thoughtfully. “So that’s it? You just wanted to show me where you spent your summers? Pass along Uncle Cash‘s sage advice? Or is there more to this, Ryder?” He tried to keep his questions causal, but Judd wasn’t fooled.

“What’d I just tell ya about not thinking so much?” Judd asked, taking a sip of sweet tea that was positively heavenly. “Are you that afraid of letting go?”

“Afraid?” Owen repeated, tone affronted.

“Yep.” Judd said, letting his eyes follow the horses grazing on the long grass nearby, not a care in the world beyond flicking flies with their tails. “You're afraid of dying, and instead of admitting it, you’re gonna worry yourself sick over every little thing. Quit it.” Judd advised.

Owen narrowed his eyes and huffed. “You came to my station pretty torn up yourself. I think it was me who told you there was no avoiding the monster.”

Judd took that in, refusing to rise to the bait. “You sure did,” Judd tipped his hat to his Captain, “and I think you learned that the day the towers fell, and you lost your crew. What you didn’t learn was how to tell your son you’ve got cancer. How to ask for his support.”

Fuming, Owen was beginning to wonder why he came out here at all. “You don’t understand, Judd.” He warned. “Don’t talk about things you only think you know.”

“Oh, but I do know.” Judd told him, chewing and swallowing before he continued. “Don’t have to be a genius to figure out your boy's got a problem with alcohol. Or to connect the dots between that, ducking out of New York, and trying to protect him now. Even at the cost of your well-being.”

Silence fell between them, and Judd kept eating, waiting for Owen to either speak up or storm off. When he just sat there, holding the sandwich that Judd had pressed into his hand, staring at the ground, Judd took pity on him.

“Look, I didn’t bring ya’ll out here to hurt you, or rub your face in anything. You were having a bad day, a string of ‘em really, and I wanted to give you a good one to compare ‘em to.” Judd set down his food, shoved the containers aside, and moved up right next to Owen; close enough that their shoulders touched, and Judd could smell coconut oil and citrus. It was intoxicating, not because he loved tropical fruit, but because it was so completely Owen. He took back the sandwich, setting it aside, so he could take both of Owen's hands.

“All you have to do is live,” Judd said, tilting his chin so their foreheads nearly touched and he was looking down at their clasped hands. “The rest is background noise. Even TK. He needs his dad, yes, but that boy’s so much piss and vinegar I’m sure he's gonna have your back. And so do I.” Judd was serious, and it showed in his demeanor. “I got you Owen. Even if no one else does. Especially then.”

Owen didn’t pull back from the closeness, and Judd reached up to brush one cheek with his fingertips.

“What are you doing?” Owen asked softly, but Judd got the distinct feeling he knew already. Had known from the start of the day. Maybe from all the way back to the invite to come out here.

The breeze rustled through the grass around them, one of horses nickered, and from far away a Mockingbird called. The peacefulness made it easy to forget that life isn’t simple, because out here it sure seemed like it could be.

“I'm asking you in the nicest way I know how, if you feel about me, the way I feel about you.” Judd riddled, hanging on to what might be his last moment of hope if Owen said no.

Owen didn’t answer right away, but he shifted so they were face to face.

“Judd, I’m straight.” He eventually volunteered by way of answer. But again, he didn’t take his hands from Judd's grip, or make any move to back away.

“That’s ok,” Judd encouraged leaning in to purr, “I don’t need curves.”

Owen made a strangled sound that might have been a laugh, then cleared his throat. “You’re married. It was your wife who asked me to save you.”

That surprised Judd, and God bless Grace for always looking out for him. “Was,” he clarified, letting his breath tickle Owen's neck, releasing his hands to grip his shoulders. “She moved out.” Judd slipped one hand to the back of Owen's neck, urging him to consider their lips meeting.

“Judd-" Owen started, but he was cut off.

“What if you didn’t think, huh?” Judd murmured, keeping their proximity, not willing to lose any ground. “There is really nothing to think about,” Judd stressed, “It’s all about how you feel." He ran his tongue over his teeth invitingly. “How do you feel, Captain Strand?”

And Judd gave up on caution, pressing his mouth to Owen's, lightly at first, then with increasing pressure. He could taste the salty olive brine as he nudged his tongue between Owen's teeth, and if Owen wasn’t openly inviting, he definitely wasn’t resisting.

Owen wasn’t sure how to answer the question, because his pants were tightening, and his heartrate quickening in response to Judd's kiss. How did he feel? He wasn’t disgusted, that’s for sure. But there were a lot of reasons not to let this go further.

“I think-" Owen started, pushing at Judd's broad chest, detaching enough to speak. He was abruptly cut off again.

“What you feel, Cap, not what you think.”

Owen rolled his eyes at the correction.

“I feel like your boss, Judd.” He stressed. “Especially when you call me Captain.” He added wryly.

“No you don’t.” Judd shot back, without hesitation.

Owen's brow creased with frustration, but he didn’t stop Judd’s lips from grazing his neck, lightly kissing up to his ear.

“Yes I do.” He countered.

“You might know it,” Judd breathed out, “Right now though, doing what we’re doing,” Judd’s voice dripped with wicked suggestion, “You just feel like a man, who is standing in his own way, cause he can’t quit thinking and talking.”

Owen opened his mouth but all that came out was an indelicate squeak, as Judd’s expert fingers unbuckled his belt, and popped the button on his pants.  

“Tell me no,” Judd challenged, shoving him backwards onto the blanket and straddling his hips. “A Texas gentleman knows,” he emphasized the natural twang of his voice, “that no means no. So,” Judd scooped both of Owen's wrists into one large hand, pinning them above his head, “if you really want me to stop,” his free hand tugged at Owen's waistband, “tell me no.”

He finished with a smothering kiss that forced Owen further into the grassy cushion under them, grinding their hips together, and igniting a fire in Owen's groin that ripped a ragged cry from his throat. Judd sat upright to grin down wickedly at him, and giving Owen's hip a brutal squeeze, he ordered.

“Lift.”

Owen did. Without another thought, or argument about better judgement, he let Judd Ryder sweep his pants and boxers down to his boots, erection springing free. Chest heaving, Owen was helpless to resist being caught up in Judd's real life fantasy. He reached for Judd's belt. If this was going to happen, he rationalized, he didn’t want to be naked alone.

After that boots were kicked away, shirts torn off, cowboy hats crushed under writhing limbs. By the time Judd's hand gripped Owen’s straining cock, it was all Owen could do to hold back and make it to the main event.

“Judd, I’ve never…” Owen trailed off, short of breath, scared.

Their eyes met, both clouded by a lust that just that morning Owen would have said was inconceivable.

“I’ll be gentle,” Judd promised, spreading Owen's legs, making and maintaining eye contact while he did.

Owen broke it, laying back and staring at the blue sky above them, head spinning. He inhaled sharply when he felt Judd's mouth on his cock, at the same time his finger circled Owen's entrance, probing lightly. He knew that now was the time if he wanted to turn back; the last chance to have things remain the same.

Maybe he would have been able to expand on that thought if Judd hadn’t started moving, sucking, tongue stroking the underside of his dick. It was slightly clumsy, but endearing, an honest attempt to elicit a reaction. Owen was lost, panting, as Judd worked to bring him into the present, snatching him from past hurts, and an uncertain future.

Owen hasn’t been intimate with anyone for far too long, he realized, as Judd's fingers slipped between his cheeks again, teasing at his hole. A rush of nervousness hit him, and he almost panicked. If it wasn’t Judd, steadfast, confident, down to earth Judd, Owen would have slammed his legs shut, and wrote this all off to pure insanity. He didn’t do that though, not this day. Instead he breathed deep through the stretch of one, two, then three fingers inserted, then thrusted into him.

He could only take it for so long, Judd bumping against that sweet spot that made stars explode when he closed his eyes. Soon, he was grabbing for Judd, his new partner in pleasure, scrabbling at his shoulders and back, pulling him down to kiss, touch, fondle, nibble, and bite every inch of each others skin. If feeling was all that mattered, he would be cured right here by the euphoria sweeping him to another place. A place where what they were doing was the right thing. The only thing.

“Are you ready?” Judd was hovering over him, lips swollen, hair mussed, dripping sweat, and smelling oh-so-sweet to Owen.

“All the way ready,” Owen managed to gasp, leaving himself open for Judd to take.

When he pressed inside Owen slowly, the pain was exquisite, all of his nerves firing at once, his brain overwhelmed by pure bliss. Judd's weight on him was reassuring, as he quickened the pace, turning Owen inside out over and over again, pummeling him with the unstoppable passion and complete surrender. Together they moaned, grunted, and clawed at each other, every second magnified and blurred, transcending time and reality.

“I’m gonna cum,” Judd whispered desperately into Owen's ear, at the exact moment that Owen was sure he couldn’t take the build up one second longer.

“Cum with me, Owen.”

And he did, with explosive intensity, all over the two of them, at the same that Judd swelled impossibly large inside him, then relaxed just when Owen was about to fade away into the joyous ache that had overcome him.

Bird calls echoing from tree to tree and the soft shuffling of horse hooves on soft ground were the only sounds beyond their breathing, when they recovered enough to roll apart and catch their breath. Neither of them were keen to move, laying in a sweat-drenched, messy pile on the rumpled blanket. Owen's skin flared into goosebumps, when Judd’s fingertips ghosted across his belly, and they both shivered in the tepid air, watching wordlessly as the sun climbed ever higher in the sky.

“What if we can’t take this back with us?” Owen couldn’t stop himself from asking after quite some time had passed. “To the real world I mean.”

By the time Judd answered, Owen had almost given up on any reassurance that this thing between them wouldn’t disappear as soon as they got back on their horses.

Lifting himself up on one arm and turning earnest eyes on Owen, who still lay on his back, too wrung out to consider getting up yet.

 “Then we have the ranch.” He said, and if his gaze was filled with a certain melancholy, it was only a reflection of Owen’s own. “We have the horses to get us here, my uncle to look the other way, and our friendship to get us by in between.” He leaned in to peck Owen’s cheek with an unexpected tenderness.  Owen’s heart felt like it grew a couple sizes.

“You’d be ok with that?” Owen questioned, turning to Judd who laid back down beside him.

“Well, it ain’t perfect, but it sure ain’t nothing either.” Judd smiled sweetly. It made Owen bite his lip and fight to keep his hands to himself.

“I didn’t bring you out here to make things harder, Cap. I brought you here to give you a glimpse of happiness you had never bothered to imagine. You won’t catch me doin’ a dang thing to ruin what happened here today.”

Owen sighed deeply, thoughtfully. How many people in his life would be willing to give the way Judd had, and expect nothing in return? Not even TK could claim that, and Owen knew it. He also knew he had to get back on that horse, go back to work, back to cancer treatments, back to worrying how much his son could handle without relapsing. Only difference was, now he had Judd in an all new way, and he had hope. He moved his eyes from the mess around them, over to the horses still grazing contentedly, and back to sweep appreciatively over Judd’s naked form.

“I’m not sure I can ride.” Owen said mournfully, running a thumb over one of Judd’s nipples. “What the hell did we use for lube?”

Judd chuckled, shoving Owen’s hand away, and retrieving a small glass bottle from beside him. “Olive oil,” he said, guffawing at Owen’s stunned face.

“Damn it, Judd!” Owen flicked his ear, “I use that stuff in everything. I’m not going to be able to look at it without blushing.”

Judd rolled over, topping Owen again, smiling down at him wantonly. “Bottle’s not empty,” He winked lewdly, “round two?”

Recovering from his shock Owen returned the unsavoury expression, reaching his arms up to encircle Judd’s neck and pull him close. “Round two!” He growled in agreement.