Disclaimer: I do not own Shane Vansen, John Oakes, Nathan West, Paul Wang, or Space: Above and Beyond. I've earned nothing but the pleasure of the writing, and the possibility of some nice feedback.
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Never No More
Lieutenant Shane Vansen pulled the chips toward her. She loved winning. The squad chattered but her attention was caught by Captain John Oakes entering the room and heading for the bar.
"Vansen, you in?" Paul asked, following her gaze.
She pushed away from the table intent on John. Nathan told the rest of them to let her go. As if they could stop her. And Nathan—ever her wingman.
The jukebox held every Patsy Cline song but one. She slid her card into the jukebox and selected Never No More. It was their new song, even though John didn't know it yet.
A huge white planet hung in the large porthole, and Shane made her way to it. It looked much like the moon on that night so long ago. The night she pushed him away.
He was beside her then, the smell of his cologne and the warmth of his body swirling around and enveloping her in a melancholy that was a long time coming. Her friends' chatter faded into nothingness.
The black tee shirt hugged his well-built upper body. Not that he was a marshmallow before, but the years since they'd last seen one another, his years as an experienced pilot, had honed and worked and refined the muscles. A solid man had replaced the lanky boy.
"That jukebox has every Patsy Cline song but ours."
The shock of chestnut curls on his forehead helped him retain his boyish air, but she knew better. The shoulders sloped a bit and the lines on his face were a little deeper. He'd seen too much death for his age, just as she had. And now with the death of his girlfriend, his fiancée.…
"Just as well," he said. He turned toward her then. "Look, I checked out the cockpit's DCL replay and read Sullivan's report." He gave a quick shake of his head. "I cleared my head and I know you were there for me. This time."
She glared at him. This time? "I've always been there." Had he ever needed her, ever called her, she would have been there as fast as she could. Not even the Chigs would have stopped her. Or his girlfriend.
Her slow-drink-of-whiskey voice washed over John. The voice that haunted most of his dreams.
He studied her for several long moments. She was no longer the girl he remembered. Sometimes, late at night when he was all alone and not even Jennifer could light up the dark voids in his soul, he'd pull out his memories of Shane. Her youthful beauty helped him remember to have hope, dim as it sometimes remained.
Now she was all womanly curves and softness. There was wisdom and experience and knowledge in her carriage and in her eyes. A knowledge that none of them should have.
John had to touch her. Had to feel alive, and if anyone could provoke any kind of feeling in him, it was Shane. He'd never really gotten over her; just gotten past the pain. Pushed it away and hadn't dealt with it. At least until Jennifer had come along. She'd filled that dark place with light. And now...now he was just empty.
He took Shane's hand from her pants pocket and pulled her into his arms. She tucked her head into his chest; still a perfect fit. She wore no perfume, but the smell of deodorant soap, a floral shampoo, and a scent that was uniquely Shane's—one he remembered from the nights they'd spent together—clung to her. And sent his senses reeling.
Self-loathing teased the periphery of his conscience. Jennifer was barely gone and the desire to bury himself in Shane was strong. Stronger than his self-control.
"I hate the words you said to me that night because I've come to believe them. It all started that night. We drifted away after I could never imagine you being out of my life.
"The war began after everyone thought there'd never be another. Promotions. Reassignments." It felt so good to hold her. After losing Jennifer, she was safe. "Shane... I've seen so many people die."
She looked up at him. Seeing him, knowing him. Knowing what the coming hours held in store for them both. "John, I'm so sorry that she's not here." She tucked her head back into his chest. "But I'm not sorry that I am."
His arms tightened around her. He wasn't sorry either. "Do you still not believe in forever?"
"Yeah. Only unlike that night, I'll never surrender to it. The more something seems inevitable, the harder I fight it.
"And I now know that that giving your life to someone doesn't mean dying. And I always wished that night I'd given you mine."
Oh, Shane.
The bar doors squealed open and the rest of the bar patrons came back into his consciousness.
"Hey guys, it's true. There is a Chiggie von Richtoven." Sullivan's voice came across the room five by five.
A chair scraped against the floor and Sullivan dropped into it. He continued, "Ross announced that we're all to report to a briefing at oh-seven-hundred. They believe one alien fighter is responsible for wiping out the 19th, 31st, and 42nd squadrons."
Shane looked up at John again, the answer to the unasked question in her eyes. God she was beautiful. And she would be his. At least for a few hours.
"They confirmed that it's what killed Lieutenant Brandt," said Sullivan.
John had his answer. Not that it was acceptable.
The rhythm of John's heart beat beneath Shane's ear. Steady, just like he'd always been. The comfort of his arms around her soothed her. She still had that feeling that something was about to happen, but for the moment, it didn't weigh on her.
She couldn't imagine the pain he was going through at the loss of his fiancée. It hurt a little. Would he be that wounded if he received a telegram about her? She looked up at the familiar profile. "John, I'm so sorry she's not here. But I'm not sorry that I am."
He looked down into her up-turned face, his gaze searing her own—signaling his intent. He cupped her face and lowered his mouth to hers. It was warm and firm, slanting over hers in a way that was familiar, but new and exciting; needy and demanding. He wanted her; needed her.
Shane's own heart started pounding and a longing she hadn't expected welled up and spilled out into the kiss.
John ended the kiss, eliciting a low mewling from her. She wasn't ready to let go. Not yet. There was more between them that needed addressing. She searched his face, his eyes. They scorched her.
He nodded once before releasing her and left the bar without looking back. She didn't watch him go either, but heard the swinging doors squeal when he pushed through them.
The darkness beyond the porthole didn't seem quite so vast. John had been out there all this time. And would be out there again. He'd be assigned to a new a squadron and be out there, somewhere.
The chatter went on around her, but she could think of only one thing. It would probably be obvious to everyone where she was going and what she'd be doing, but she didn't care. She had a chance to find and provide some comfort. To feel alive in a way that she hadn't felt in a long time.
~Fin~