Remember ... I said clueless, right? Forgive me oh Anti-Eagle-Bashing readers ...
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Mark was still buckling his belt as he half-jogged in to the dry-dock hangar housing his beloved jet. There, Melissa and two of the Ranger's most arrogant, and gutter-minded, pilots met him.
Anson, a man well into his 20's, immediately picked up on the redressing of the G-Force leader.
"Did we interrupt something, Mark?"
He flicked his eyes to the man in annoyance, and addressed the girl who paged him. "What's the urgency, Mel?"
She waggled a single brow at him and pouted her lips in a semi-blown kiss of approval. "The untucked look suits you, Commander. You should dress down more often."
He rolled his eyes, but smiled at the compliment. "With all the machinery and cogs and ways to get pulled in to a machine around here, I think I prefer to keep everything tucked in and out of reach."
She shrugged a shoulder and raised her eyes to the ceiling. "Maybe you should share that wisdom with the Swan. Tell her to tie her hair back – unless she's worried she won't look so pretty with her hair in a tail."
"Actually," he responded with a smile, "she looks amazing with her hair tied back."
Anson gave a filthy smirk. "Yeah, with that neck. Makes you want to just run your tongue up it then bite as you give her a nice stiff…"
"Finish that statement," Mark hissed, "and I'll neuter you on the spot."
Melissa groaned, but Anson continued. "Oh come on, Man. You can't tell me you haven't thought about giving her something hard at least once in your life."
"Princess is my third in command, and a lady. She is not an object any man should think that way about."
"Is that a yes or no?"
Mark's eyes glazed over as he asked, flatly. "What was so urgent that you had to page me?"
"Nice evasion there, Mark," Melissa commented as she thumbed at her lip. "We're heading to the club tonight, feel like joining us?"
"I have plans."
Anson grinned. "Well unless she has tits bigger than Mel's and an ass that doesn't shake when you slap it, then she aint worth you missing tonight, Man."
"Maybe I don't like big tits, Anson."
Anson, Melissa, and their third companion, Alex, looked at each other, then burst into hearty laughter. "Then unless you have plans to give some to Swannie, you're in."
"Don't, Anson. Okay?"
Alex smirked and shrugged a shoulder. He addressed his team in an arrogant manner designed strictly to spurn Mark into doing exactly what they wanted. "Yeah, you're right, Mel. He's doing the Swan. She's got him whipped in to denying himself everything that doesn't involve her."
Mark groaned in frustration. "How many times do I have to tell you? Princess and I are not an item, we aren't having sex, and we aren't even making eye contact outside of G-Force." His frustration in the constant harassment was obvious. "And when you guys get it into your head that I've got far greater concerns than bedding my third, I'll be thankful. I'm single, got it?" As if to prove his point, Mark took hold of Melissa's head and pulled her in for a chaste and harsh kiss on the mouth. "There, is that proof enough for you assholes?"
The immediate silence that followed Mark's rant quickly alerted him to the fact that someone who shouldn't have heard his rant had likely walked in to the room. The identity of that someone quickly became apparent when he heard a soft voice chide: "Language, Commander."
"Princess? He all but stammered as he attempted to explain himself. "I didn't think you. I. uh …shit." He wiped his palm down his face as if to find composure. "Uh … what are you doing here?"
"Zark wanted me to get the data disk from the Phoenix. He's having problems with the download. I, unlike two individuals here, have access to this hangar." She slid her eyes to Melissa and the boys, who were snickering in to their hands. "I take it you guys don't have a base of your own any more."
Anson sidled over to Princess, who was trying desperately to maintain a friendly, and not upset, smile. "We were just hanging out wondering if Mel was interested in joining the rest of the team for drinks after shift."
"Oh," she said softly.
"Yeah," he purred as he slipped his arm across her shoulder. "How about you join us? We could do with a little eye candy."
She shuddered, offered Mark a hurt glance, and shirked away from Anson. "No. Thank you. I'd much rather scratch my own eyes out of my head than put myself at the mercy of you lot."
Mark cleared his throat. "Anson, take you arm off her."
Princess raised her eyes. "I can defend myself, thank you, Commander." She pulled away from Anson and headed towards the boarding ramp to the Phoenix. "Enjoy your night out. I'm sure you'll all have a rousing good time." She cast her eyes to Mark and gave him a nod. "I'll see you at training tomorrow."
He could see from her glance that he had totally, royally, and unbelievably screwed up. He hadn't seen that depth of misery in her eyes since her first confirmed kill way back in the beginning of the war. He groaned softly and began to follow her path.
"I'd better go talk to her, guys."
Alex shrugged and jutted his chin to the exit. "Does that mean you're coming, or not?"
He sighed, "probably not, Man. I actually did have plans."
Melissa gave him a side-smirk. "Well if you change your mind, Tiger, just call my cell. We'll have one of the boys come get you."
Mark nodded. "Which bar is it?"
"The Landing Strip."
He sighed. "I'll see, okay."
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Princess made it as far as Keyop's console before she finally let the situation totally get to her. With a long exhale that was audible and sorrowful she collapsed to the floor. On knees, with her head buried in her arms on Keyop's chair, she began to sob.
How could he have been so harsh? She understood they had to keep their affair secret, but did it have to be done in such a humiliating manner? And did he have to kiss her?! It would have been less hurtful for him to kiss one of the guys and pretend he's gay.
She couldn't even laugh at the absurdity of her last thought.
She pulled herself slowly out of her sobs and let frustration take control for a moment. She snarled, yelled and punched hard at the leather chair.
"It's so unfair!"
Mark's voice sounded apologetically from behind where she knelt.
"I think it's probably me you need to be beating, Princess. Not the chair."
"Leave me alone, Mark."
He shook his head and stepped toward her. "No, Princess. I have to apologise."
She gave a short and miserable laugh. "Why bother? If you want them to believe we aren't … that you and I …."
"…are in love…" he finished gently.
She shook her head at him and wiped at her eyes with the back of her hand. "I'm having a lot of trouble believing that right now, Mark."
"I'm trying to protect you, Sweetheart."
She coughed at the use of the word, "Sweetheart", and screwed up her face as the tears began to form in her eyes. "Protect me, or you?"
He angled his head away from her defensively, but kept his eye on her. "What's that supposed to mean?"
She pushed herself to a stand by pressing her hands into the chair. She kept her hands on the chair for support and turned only her head to him.
"Saving face, I mean. Is it really that embarrassing for you to admit you and I are together?"
He shook his head. "No, Princess. That's not true."
"No? Then why say it? Why say what you did and then kiss that woman?"
He balled his fists in self-frustration and approached her. His eyes pleaded with her to believe him. "I don't know why I said what I did, or why I kissed her." He reached his hands out to hold her and grunted when she roughly evaded his touch. "I guess I'm just so sick of the constant questions, the endless hounding and accusations, that I just…" He sighed and rubbed his brow with his palm. "I don't know, Princess. I don't."
"Have you ever tried honesty?"
He blinked back his own tears and tilted his head at her. "Huh?"
"Honesty. You know what that is, don't you. Why not be honest and come out in the open?"
He shook his head. "We can't. You know why."
She approached him, this time, and took hold of his wrists in a pleading manner. "Why not? Why can't we just come out and tell them to go to Hell? I love you, you say you love me …"
"…You know I do."
"Then let's stop the charade. I can't do this anymore. I can't sit back and suffer through all this innuendo and gossip. I can't watch you cozy up with every woman on the planet just so you can prove I don't mean anything to you." She squinted her eyes and dropped her head onto his chest. "I'm tired of being mocked and embarrassed."
He pulled her close and pressed his lips to her head. "I'm so sorry, Princess. Why didn't you tell me you felt this way?"
"Because," she said, her voice muffled in his shirt, "It was never so far out of hand like this. I could handle it with the press. But not like this."
He touched his finger to her chin to raise her face to his. "I'll make this right, Princess. I promise."
She inhaled shakily. "When?"
"Soon."
She shook her head and pulled away from him. "Sorry, Mark. That's not good enough. If you love me. If I mean anything to you at all, you'll stop this charade…" She tried to pull away from him, but was firmly trapped in his arms. "…You'll stop hurting me."
"I wish it was that easy, Princess. I do. But…"
She looked up at him. "Then I guess that's it."
He gasped. "Meaning?" He already knew the answer to that question.
She pulled away from him and held his hands in a manner to say goodbye. "I'm not playing this game any more. I'm out of it. I'm done."
He shook his head. "No, Princess. Please. Don't do this."
"Tell Melissa she won."
Mark shook his head in real confusion. "What does that mean?"
She shrugged. "She'll know what it means."
He pursed his lips and shook his head. "I'm not going to let you walk away from us, Prin. I just need some time. I need to be able to do this right so noone will get hurt. Just give me some time."
"You've had nearly four years, Mark. How much longer could you possibly need?"
He gripped her upper arms tight and moved his face close to hers. "I promise you this will work out, Princess. Just believe in me. Please. I promise you this will all end."
"I wish I could believe that."
"Please."
She dropped her head.
"Please," he repeated, urgency in his voice. "I just want to make sure you'll be safe."
It was absurd, she knew it, but what could she do? She had to agree.
"Promise me. Promise me this ends … now."
"I promise."