Chapter One
"No!" Jaime declared, her arms folded emphatically across her chest, "I won't do it!"
Steve had promised Oscar that he'd try to reason with her. "It's an OSI requirement, Sweetheart," he began gently.
"I don't care; I hate guns!" She stomped across the living room and threw herself into her favorite over-stuffed chair. "I will not carry a gun, Steve!"
"Jaime -"
"Forget it."
"It wouldn't hurt you to just learn how to use one."
"How hard is it? Point, aim, shoot. Thanks, but I can defend myself just fine without one."
"From a sniper on a rooftop?"
Jaime grimaced. "With a sniper, he'd probably get me before I knew he was there anyhow. What's your point?"
"The point is..." Steve sighed, having to take a deep breath while he remembered exactly what the original point had been. "The point is that you don't have a choice here; you can't 'opt out' of this training -"
"Watch me."
"Look, I've passed the course and I'm a certified instructor. I'll teach you myself – it'll take less than a day -"
"No."
"You'll learn how to handle a gun, how to load it -"
"I said NO!" Jaime got up and gave new meaning to 'throw pillow' as she chucked one all the way into the kitchen before storming into the bedroom and slamming the door.
- - - - - -
Steve kept his and Jaime's appointment with Oscar by himself, the next morning. "She won't do it," he reported grimly.
"My operatives carry weapons," Oscar said. "It isn't negotiable."
"Not only did she refuse to carry one," Steve said reluctantly, "she won't even learn how to use it." He eyed the small box on the desk that held Jaime's shiny new government-issued firearm. "I can give it to her, but she might just return it to you as a useless blob of metal."
"You explained the reasoning behind it?" Oscar queried.
"For the minute or less that she was actually listening to me, yes. I wasn't about to yell through a closed door. I gave her an hour or so to cool down, then I finally went home. Oscar, I know that lady, and she ain't budging."
Oscar handed the little box to Steve. "I'm only out here until tomorrow night, and I need to go back and tell the Secretary that my entire Los Angeles faction meets our stated requirements. Steve, this is one time where you need to make her budge."
- - - - - -
Oscar moved efficiently through the remainder of his morning's appointments. Certifications were verified and weapons issued, where needed. He had placed Russ in charge of the Los Angeles Headquarters, and the assistant had done an admirable job. Even Rudy Wells had been certified, since he performed much of his work in OSI labs and offices. The only holdout - on either coast – was Jaime. Steve had warned Oscar in advance that Jaime was extremely anti-gun, anti-violence, and always had been. While he admired the strength of her convictions, Oscar didn't like thinking about what was likely to happen if she didn't relent and conform to the new regulation. Would the Secretary of State and Jack Hansen of the NSB understand, if Jaime had to meet with them to explain herself? Highly doubtful.
- - - - - -
Make her budge, Oscar? Steve mused silently as he drove to Jaime's house. Since when have I been able to make Jaime do anything? The very same qualities that kept Steve so deeply in love with Jaime – her intelligence, strong will and independence – made her, at this moment, one of the most exasperating people he'd ever known. As he pulled into Jaime's driveway, he spotted a flash of blonde hair through the trees, so he parked the car and moved quickly up toward the river to find Jaime.
Her attitude had clearly changed since the previous night's argument. She was staring wistfully into the water, so deep in thought that she didn't notice his approach until he'd seated himself in the grass beside her.
"Hi," he said, very softly. "Sorry if I startled you."
"Steve, I'm sorry; I was such a brat last night," Jaime told him with down-turned eyes.
"I'm sure you had your reasons -"
"But you were trying to make it as easy on me as you could. I'm sorry I didn't see that."
Steve placed a gentle arm around her shoulders. He'd never known Jaime to have an irrational fear, so he knew something was behind her strong emotions. "Talk to me?" he suggested.
"I really don't like guns; they scare the hell outta me."
"Not a good thing, in our line of work..."
"No, I can face one – I have faced them, more than once – I just don't wanna carry one. There's something so...irrevocable...about using them."
Steve nodded. "I understand."
Jaime was silent for a few very long seconds, then looked out at the water again, with a stoic face but eyes filled with fear. "I...don't have a choice, do I?" Steve didn't answer; he knew there was no need to. "Do you have it?"
"Yes." He slowly removed the little box from his jacket and handed it (unopened) to Jaime, who set the empty box on the ground and cradled the weapon in her hands.
After staring at it briefly, she whispered "It's already loaded." Steve nodded, surprised since – to his knowledge – she'd never handled one before. Jaime stood up and moved the pistol to her right hand, extended her arm out over the water and pulled the trigger. The bullet hit squarely in the middle of the large, dead tree on the other side of the river. Without looking back at Steve, Jaime placed the gun in her pocket. "There," she whispered. "You can tell Oscar I know how to handle a gun."
- - - - - -
