Aftershock

Chapter One

Steve couldn't help stealing one more kiss as he swept Jaime gallantly into his arms and carried her through the front door of his (now their) ranch house.

"You're not s'posed to do that until we get married," Jaime told him happily, as he set her back on her feet.

"I'll do it then, too. It's not every day you move in - this is a special occasion." Steve's arms remained around her waist, unwilling to let her go, so he pulled her closer. "And you are a very special woman."

Jaime's face glowed with happiness that echoed his. They'd grown much closer on their last assignment, where each had saved the other's life and they'd only made it out safely together through the strength and cohesiveness of the bond they shared. When they'd both fully recovered from their injuries, Oscar had sent them on a mini-sabbatical in the mountains and, to no-one's surprise, they'd come back engaged.

"Welcome home, Sweetheart," he told her softly.

"As long as I'm in your arms, I'm already home."

"Jaime, I love you so much -"

"I love you, too, and I always will." She tilted her face up to his for one more soft, lingering kiss.

"I cleaned out one of the dressers and half the closet for you," Steve told her. "Why don't you start unpacking and I'll order the pizza?"

"Ok."

"I'll be right in to help you." Steve headed for the phone in the kitchen and Jaime began putting her clothes on hangers. She opened the closet and was hanging things up when she noticed a small metal box in the very back corner. Curious, Jaime picked it up and opened it.

She immediately wished she hadn't. Inside, she found a gun; not just any gun - it was the gun. On their last assignment, Steve had stuffed it, fully loaded, into a backpack of supplies. Jaime had already been seriously injured, so when guards at the compound they'd infiltrated began closing in on her, Steve had stepped out in the open, allowing himself to be captured and leading them away from Jaime. He'd stashed the backpack where she could find it, so she could have the food and water that were inside. Jaime also found the gun. She'd always hated (and to an extent, feared) guns, and although Steve had taught her how to use one - just in case - she'd always refused to carry one on assignments and had never fired or even pointed one at anyone. She wasn't even sure she could shoot a person in self-defense.

Defending Steve was entirely different, though. She'd been carrying the backpack when, from around the corner of a building, she saw an execution team leading Steve into a small clearing where they'd already slaughtered a young woman. Jaime didn't give it a thought; she set the pack on the ground and took out the gun. As the men forced Steve to the ground and raised their guns, Jaime fired four clean shots, each one hitting its intended target with deadly accuracy. In mere seconds, the woman who hated guns and believed any problem could eventually be solved without violence had taken four lives.

Steve, Rudy and Oscar had all been deeply concerned about the effect this might've had on Jaime, but she'd refused to talk to anyone about what had happened, insisting she was fine. Oscar had made appointments for her with a combat psychiatrist and a regular psychologist, and ordered her - boss to employee - to go, but no one, not even her boss, could force Jaime to talk about it. She'd shoved the memory down as far as she could, so she could tell herself it never happened.

Now she stood with the evidence in her hands, and Jaime could ignore it no longer. After she'd fired the fatal shots, Jaime had thrown the gun down as though it was red-hot and she wanted to do the same thing now, but found that her left hand held the gun in a death grip. She was literally paralyzed by shock and fear, and her body began to tremble so violently that the motion was nearly seizure-like in its intensity. The gun barrel waved dangerously in every direction as Jaime grew light-headed, leaned back against the wall and, still shaking, sank slowly to the floor.

Steve would've rather cut off his flesh-and-blood arm than cause Jaime any pain. The box had been tucked back into the farthest corner of his (filled) side of the closet, where he had genuinely believed she wouldn't find it. What he saw when he joined her in the bedroom nearly stopped his heart and also broke it.

Jaime cowered in the corner, her knees drawn up to her chest and tears streaming down her face as she watched the gun barrel bob back and forth, unable to put it down or control it.

Steve forced himself to remain very calm. "Sweetheart, can you bring your hand down so it touches the floor? That's right - good. Let it rest on the floor." The second the barrel was pointed toward the floor and no longer swinging around, Steve quickly moved toward her. He grabbed the barrel and twisted the gun into an unrecognizable hunk of metal, and then cradled Jaime in his arms, holding her very close, until the shaking subsided.

"Sweetheart, I am so sorry. It was going back to Oscar tomorrow, and I didn't think you'd find it in one night, with everything else going on." He rocked her gently in his arms. "Why don't we get you into bed and you can rest while I call Rudy."

"Don't...need...Rudy," she insisted, her teeth chattering. "Just get that...thing...outta here. I'll be fine."

"Jaime, you should really let him check you out, just to be safe."

"I'm okay." She was finally able to unclench her left hand. "Take it - please?"

Steve took it from her and balled it up even further until no one would recognize that it'd once been a weapon, then he opened the window and threw the metal ball as far as he could into the trees behind the house.

The next morning, true to form, Jaime insisted nothing was wrong, she didn't need a doctor or a 'shrink' and she didn't need or want to discuss it.

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