This one's for Kygal. It's not quite the story you envisioned, but it's the one Jacob and Rachel told me.
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"Ah dink my noze iz bwoken."
Jacob Hood's voice was muffled by the wad of napkins he was holding against his nose to stem the flow of blood. He glanced over in irritation at his companion, Special Agent Rachel Young. Her grunt in acknowledgement of his statement sounded suspiciously like the word "good." Jacob slumped down in the passenger seat of their SUV, scowling. He couldn't believe a simple act of gallantry, a simple attempt to prove to Rachel he wasn't totally incompetent in dealing with the world, could go so wrong.
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It wasn't a real case that brought them to Jacksonville, North Carolina. They were there doing a favor for Frank. One of his old Marine Corps buddies was the base commander at Camp Lejeune. When two gunnery sergeants failed a routine drug test, the base commandant called Frank. One of the two men had been his "gunny" when he was in command of a unit in Iraq. Not only had his friend, along with the other sergeant, sworn he hadn't taken any illegal drugs but also passed a polygraph test to that effect. Regardless, they were both scheduled for a court martial and a potential dishonorable discharge from the Marines. The commandant hoped Frank's Special Science Advisor could find an alternate explanation for the drugs in the men's systems.
Jacob was delighted, when they arrived, to discover the two men, shortly before their failed drug test, spent a weekend at Wrightsville Beach. He suggested Felix investigate the men's activities there leaving him and Rachel to follow any leads that could be dug up at the base. Since Rachel returned to his detail, he was grabbing any opportunity he could to spend time with her without Felix to act as a distraction.
After a day spent questioning the two men and poking around, Jacob suggested they take a break for dinner. He was disappointed when Rachel proposed they eat at a bar about a mile from the base. Since it was a popular hang-out with the Marines, they might be able to pick up some gossip. He had been hoping for a quiet dinner where he could steer the conversation away from the case. In the last few months they had begun having dinner together more frequently and he felt they were beginning to build a more intimate relationship.
The conversations faltered slightly as they walked in the bar. The Marines seemed to know full well who they were and why they were there. That knowledge didn't stop some of the Marines from expressing their admiration of Rachel. Jacob's hackles rose at the whistles and cat calls her appearance sparked. He put a protective, possessive, hand on the small of her back as they wended their way through the crowd to a small table near the bar. The waitress who took their order was more than happy to linger, answering questions. According to her, the two sergeants were semi-regulars; they would stop in a few times a month, never having more than a beer or two.
They had almost finished their meal when the waitress placed a club soda in front of Rachel. Rachel looked up at the woman quizzically; she hadn't ordered a re-fill of her drink. The waitress smirked and tilted her head to the side. "The lieutenant over there bought you a drink."
Rachel narrowed her eyes and looked in the direction the waitress indicated. A good-looking man in uniform smiled at her and lifted his drink in acknowledgment. She recognized him as one of the Marines she and Hood had questioned earlier. Picking up the glass she handed it back to the waitress. "Tell the lieutenant I'm not thirsty."
"Ohhh, he's not gonna like that," the waitress drawled. "Lieutenant Wilson there, he likes to think he's god's gift, if you know what I mean."
Rachel shrugged. "Not my problem."
As he watched the waitress return the unwanted drink, Jacob smirked a bit at the expression on the lieutenant's face when he realized his attentions were not welcome. Leaving Rachel to request the check, he excused himself to go to the restroom. He was disturbed, returning a few minutes later, to see the lieutenant at their table, bothering Rachel.
"Ah, come on beautiful, let me buy you a drink." the man said. "You're off duty. Ditch the old geezer and lets you and me party."
Jacob's lips tightened; from the way he was slurring his words the Marine was obviously drunk. As he got nearer he heard Rachel calmly tell the man to go back to his own table. Instead of complying wither request, he reached out to grab her.
Jacob decided it was time for him to intervene. He grasped the man by the arm. "I think the lady has made it clear she's not interested. You should go back to your table. Now."
The Marine blinked a few times to bring Jacob into focus. "I think you should mind your own business old man. Me and the lovely lady are doing just fine."
As he tried to sit down, Jacob increased the pressure on his arm and pulled him slightly upward. "I said …."
Before he could finish his sentence, the Marine took a swing at him. The blow glanced off his cheek and before Rachel could intervene, Jacob punched the man in the mouth. With a growl, the Marine tackled Jacob and landed two quick blows to his face.
Swearing loudly, Rachel grabbed the back of the Marine's shirt, pulling him off Hood. A quick punch to the throat and a knee to the groin sent the man sprawling on the floor. His buddies were half-way from their seats when she flashed her badge and barked at them, "FBI. Unless you want your friend in the brig for assaulting a federal asset you'd damn well better sit back down."
She yanked Hood to his feet, plucked his wallet from his back pocket and put a couple of bills on the table. Grabbing a wad of napkins from the gaping waitress, she hustled him from the bar and stuffed him in the front seat of the SUV. When he tried to protest, she tersely told him to shut up and handed him the napkins.
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Radiating fury, Rachel gave the hotel room a cursory once over. As she turned to face him, Jacob winced at the expression on her face. He couldn't remember the last time he saw her so angry.
"What the hell was that about? Are you fucking crazy? You could have gotten yourself seriously messed up back there you goddamned idiot."
"What? Why are you yelling at me?" Jacob was indignant. "Might I remind you that I'm the victim here? That jerk almost broke my nose."
"Well maybe if you'd kept your nose out of my business it wouldn't have gotten hit."
"Your business? What is that supposed to mean? I was politely trying to…."
"To do what?" Rachel interrupted. "To protect me from the big bad man because I'm some stupid fucking girl who can't take care of herself? And didn't that go well."
"I'm sorry that I wasn't sufficiently macho for you," Jacob repled icily. "You'll have to excuse me for trying to handle the situation in an adult manner."
"Adult? Since when is it adult to smack someone in the mouth? What the hell did you think that jackass would do? You're lucky he didn't take your head off. Shit, I'm lucky he didn't take your head off. You do realize I'd be in deep shit with McGruder if you got yourself hurt in a bar fight. I'm only glad his buddies didn't try to pile on when I took him down."
"I meant," Jacob replied tightly, "for trying to reason with that, as you called him, jackass as if he were an adult."
"It's not your job to reason with jackasses. I'm the muscle on this team, not you. You should have stayed out of it until I got rid of him. But no, you had to butt in and then all hell broke loose." Rachel shook her head angrily. "We're lucky I was able to get us out of there without both of us getting a major ass-kicking."
They stood glaring at each other for a few minutes.
"Excuse me; I need to wash off this blood." Jacob stalked to the bathroom, muttering.
"What did you say?"
"Nothing." Jacob slammed the bathroom door behind him.
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Gazing at himself in the mirror Jacob grimaced at his reflection. His eye was rapidly purpling, his cheek had a cut, and blood was smeared under his nose and along his jaw. Washing his hands, he winced as the cold water ran over the torn skin on his knuckles. He pulled off his blood-stained shirt, and damping it, used it to wipe his face.
After he'd cleaned himself up somewhat, Jacob smiled ruefully at himself. He hadn't humiliated himself this badly in front of a woman since he was a sophomore in high school. He still remembered that debacle. He finally got the nerve up to ask Teresa Smith to go to the end-of-year class picnic with him. They had been biology lab partners all year. She had gone out of her way to be friendly and he thought she liked him.
Instead, she looked shocked and stammered a lame excuse. It came to him in a flash that what Teresa liked were the grades he was helping her get in biology. Red-faced, he turned to leave, but was still in ear-shot when she burst into giggles and whispered loudly enough for him and everyone else in the hall to hear "OMG, can you believe that fat little nerd had the nerve to ask me out?" He walked out of the school vowing never to return. Luckily, there were only a few days left and his mom was willing to let him play truant.
He cheered up a bit, remembering he had gotten a measure of revenge on Teresa. His mom not only let him skip the last few days of school, she also convinced his dad to let him spend the summer with his grandparents. That was the summer he grew six inches. When he got back to school he was nearly six feet tall, and having spent the summer out of the reach of his dad and his dad's ideas of how men should look, with a headful of tangled curls and a pierced ear. It had been particularly satisfying to coolly let Teresa know he wasn't able to be her lab partner in chemistry that year.
Jacob sighed; it wouldn't be as easy to get over his embarrassment this time. He couldn't count on nature lending a helping hand. He honestly thought when he approached the Marine, the man might bluster a bit at being told to get lost, but he would return to his own table. Instead, he had seriously underestimated how drunk the Marine was, that he would react so violently to a hand on his arm.
Letting his temper get the better of him was also a big mistake; he should have never hit the Marine. He knew he wasn't much of a fighter, he generally abhorred violence. It was inevitable Rachel would have to step in to finish what he started. She made the contempt she felt at his performance quite clear.
He wanted to show Rachel that he could be the take-charge, no-nonsense, kick-ass kind of guy she admired. Instead, he once again proved himself far short of her ideal. Slinging his shirt over his should, Jacob opened the bathroom door.
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Rachel starred at Hood's retreating back, her mouth open in shock. Despite her request he repeat himself, she had heard him perfectly.
'You weren't the only one he insulted.'
Looking back at the situation, she could see she over-reacted a bit. 'A bit?' the little voice inside her head hooted. 'You went ape-shit crazy on both of them. And only one of them deserved it.' Rachel winced as she recalled the way she lit into Hood. He didn't deserve, entirely, to bear the brunt of her anger.
Her anger was partly because she blamed herself for what happened. It was her job to keep Hood safe and she hadn't done that. She should have gotten rid of the drunk and been prepared to leave the bar as soon as Hood returned to the table. Instead, she underestimated how drunk the Marine was, that she needed to be more direct to get rid of him. She let that drunken lout insult not only her, but Hood as well. She couldn't blame him for losing his temper and reacting as he did when the jerk punched him.
The other part of her anger was due to her disappointment in him. She wasn't disappointed he couldn't take down that Marine, fighting wasn't part of his skill set. It was part of her skill set though and he knew it. Her disappointment was that he felt he had to step in, that he didn't trust her to handle the situation.
One of the things she had always liked about him was the respect he showed her. Her mouth flickered in a small smile. Even when they had mutually resented the other's presence Hood always demonstrated complete confidence in her and her abilities. Shaking her head, Rachel drifted into her own room. Events like this showed how hard a time she had reading him. Did he step in tonight because he thought she needed him to protect her? Or was it because he wanted to protect her?
She wasn't sure which scenario she disliked more. She hated to think he saw her as weak, unable to perform as she had in the past. And as much as she wanted him to see her as a woman, she still needed him to see the real her, a woman who was capable of handling a drunk in a bar. Maybe she was crazy to think he would ever think of her as anything other than a friend; she was afraid she wasn't the kind of woman who interested him.
Her mind flickered to the few women who, in their time together, had rated more than a polite nod from Hood. They were reserved, lady-like creatures or else kind of girly. Not ones who could fight like a man and swear like a fish-wife. 'I'll bet,' she thought ruefully as she got out her first aid kit, 'his wife never got into bar room brawls.'
Smiling a bit at this thought she went back to Hood's room to tend his cuts and bruises.
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"Ah, oh," Rachel stammered, her mouth going dry at the sight of Hood, shirt off and jeans riding low on his hips. She pulled herself together and held up her first aid kit. "I, ah, thought uh, I could us this. Uh, on you, I mean."
Jacob hurriedly pulled on a t-shirt. "Um, thanks, but I think I can handle it."
"No, trust me; it's easier to have someone else do it."
Approaching him she cupped his chin in one hand and lightly ran a finger over his nose. Jacob gave a small gasp at the feel of her hands on his face, at her standing so close he could smell the faint scent of her shampoo in her hair. Rachel's hand stilled.
"Does that hurt?"
"Uh, no, not really."
Rachel went back to exploring Hood's nose. Jacob was enchanted by the intent look on her face, her lips slightly parted, the tip of her tongue caught in her teeth. She gave a small sigh of relief and smiled. "It's not broken." Turning her attention to the cut on his cheek, she pulled a small tube of ointment and some band aids from her kit.
Focusing on smoothing ointment on the cut, Rachel hesitantly began to apologize. "I'm sorry I yelled at you, it, it was unprofessional."
"Huh? Oh, that's ok." Jacob thought he'd gladly take a bawling out like the one she had dished out earlier if it meant having her this close.
"No, it isn't. You were right, that jerk insulted you, punched you first. It's only natural you reacted the way you did." Rachel carefully applied a band aid to the cut. "I had no right blaming you for what happened."
Delicately probing the bruise around his eye, she tried to continue her apology. "I guess…."
"No, I owe you an apology." Jacob interrupted. "I shouldn't have stepped in, tried to get rid of him for you. You're an adult and a trained federal agent, I shouldn't have interfered."
"Then I do need to apologize. The reason I was so pissed at you was 'cause I thought you thought I couldn't do the job…."
"What? No! You know I have complete confidence in you." He looked at her somewhat sheepishly. "I only stepped in because men like that, well, they don't listen to women. But I underestimated how drunk he was. I thought when I told him to get lost, he might posture a bit, but I never thought he'd hit me."
Satisfied the skin around his eye was merely bruised and not broken; she gave a sniff of disapproval. "I'm afraid that might be my fault too."
At Jacob's look of inquiry she elaborated, "I guess you could say it's an occupational hazard." She shrugged, "Guys well, sometimes, when they find out I'm FBI, carry a gun, they get weird when they realize I'm as capable as most men of inflicting physical harm. They think they have to prove how tough they are."
Rachel bowed her head over Jacob's hand, gently rubbing ointment across his torn knuckles. "That's one of the things I've always . . . . admired about you. You have no problem with my abilities; never act like you have to prove yourself to me. You're happy being you and with me being me." She flashed him a quick smile. "You have no idea what that means to me."
"Ah, well, you're welcome." He cleared his throat, "I, ah, had no idea. Does that happen often?"
"Often enough." She pulled gauze and adhesive tape from her kit to wrap Hood's hand. "It kind of sucks, but sometimes when I meet a guy I lie about my job, pretend to be something I'm not."
"That's ridiculous," Jacob murmured. "You're a strong, intelligent, and compassionate woman; any man who can't appreciate that isn't worth your time."
Rachel's eyes flew up to Hood's face; she breathed an "Oh."
For a moment, time seemed to stand still as they gazed at each other, each unsure of exactly what was happening, what would happen next. The spell was broken by the ringing of Rachel's cell phone. She dropped Hood's hand hurriedly and took a step back.
"Hi Felix, find anything interesting?" Her eyebrows rose as she listened to the big man. After a moment she interrupted him. "Wait a second; I'm going to put you on speaker. Hood will want to hear this too." Holding out her phone, she pushed a button, "go ahead Felix," she commanded, "take it from the top."
Rachel and Jacob huddled over her phone, listening to Felix's excited report. It turned out the two Marine's trip to Wrightsville Beach was the key to their drug problem. The visit wasn't entirely for pleasure; they had been invited to deliver a lecture to a Navy ROTC class at the University of North Carolina-Wilmington. They spent the remainder of the weekend partying with the college students.
After a skillful interrogation, Felix got one of the students to admit he and his buddies thought it would be funny to feed the two gunnery sergeants some hash brownies. Once the Marines were high from the brownies, they plied the two with alcohol and ecstasy. The college students were currently being held by the local LEOs for possession of illegal substances. The locals were also hoping the Marines would be pressing charges against the irresponsible students.
"I don't get it," Rachel said. "Once they tested positive for drugs, why didn't they tell anyone about partying at the beach?"
Jacob shook his head in disgust. "They probably didn't remember taking the drugs. Remember? The waitress at the bar told us they weren't big drinkers. The amount they drank along with the other drugs may have left them with hazy memories of the weekend."
Jacob turned his attention back to the phone. "Good job Felix," he said approvingly. "Frank's buddy should be satisfied; you've found an alternate explanation for the drugs." His lips twitched, "How did you get the kid to spill his guts? Reminisce about spiking the punch at a high school dance?"
Felix only chuckled and gave a vague answer. He ended the call by telling them not to wait up for him. Since it was late, he would spend the night at the beach, one of the locals offered him a bed. He'd hit the road early, be back in Jacksonville by nine.
Jacob shook his head over Felix's tactics. He smiled at Rachel, "We're lucky to have Felix on the team. His imagination and interrogation skills are invaluable."
Rachel smile dimmed a bit. "Uh, yeah. I guess I'll say goodnight now, I'll see you at breakfast."
Jacob nodded in agreement and watched, disappointed, as Rachel disappeared into her own room, pulling the door closed behind her. With a disgusted look on his face, he flopped on the bed. He wondered if he should curse Felix or thank him.
When Rachel looked up at him with her lips pursed he seriously considered kissing her and letting the chips fall where they may. The ringing of her cell phone had put paid to that idea. From what she said, he got the distinct impression she was letting him know that he was the kind of man she was interested in. That she was tired of dealing with men who saw her training, who saw the real her, as a challenge to be overcome, not as something, someone, to admire and respect.
The problem was he wasn't sure he could trust that impression. His brow knitted as he recalled her sudden coolness; her abrupt goodnight. Was she avoiding the closeness they shared before Felix called? Maybe she realized he was thinking of kissing her and wanted to avoid any further awkwardness. He almost crossed the line she had drawn between them and was she now reinforcing it? He winced as he recalled his earlier reminisces about Teresa; she might have been the first, but she certainly wasn't the last women whose intentions he had misread. Maybe Felix's phone called had saved him another embarrassment.
Jacob got off the bed with a huff of annoyance. Sometimes his relationship with Rachel seemed to be a frustrating dance, with one step forward and then two steps back.
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Rachel sagged against the connecting door and swore to herself. She was going to kill Felix. She could have sworn Hood was about to kiss her when the phone rang interrupting the moment. She chewed on her lip considering what happened. She hadn't come right out and said it, but she thought he got the message; she wasn't interested in Neanderthals like the Marine, she was interested in him. From what he said, how he looked at her, he seemed to get it loud and clear and was about to act on it.
Then Felix called, ruining not only the moment but making her doubt her reading of the situation. His compliment to Felix had been made in the same tone of voice as the one he had given her. Was she reading things into Hood's words and expressions because it was what she wanted to see and hear? He was so circumspect, such an introvert, she had a hard time reading him.
Shaking her head in disgust with herself, with Hood, and the whole situation between them she headed for the bathroom. 'Shit, why is it every time I think we take a step forward in our relationship something happens to make us take two steps back?'