Jenny's apartment, Naples

January 9th, 1999

1130

She was still pleasantly buzzed from the alcohol when she opened the door to Pat.

"Got anything to eat? I'm starving."

Jen took one look at the shit-eating grin on her friend's face, and stepped back to let her in.

"Pat ..."

"Yeah?" the woman drawled as she rooted around in the fridge.

"You're still wearing last night's clothes."

"Yes I am."

Jen's eyes narrowed slightly as she thought back to the night before.

Parts of it were a bit of a haze, but she clearly remembered a crowd of nubile delicacies on port of call, a few local girls eager to get laid, a juke box, the two of them, and Calhoun, Chuck, and Decker buying round after round of drinks.

"What happened last night?"

Pat looked at her in mock disgust.

"What do you mean what happened? You were right there on that table with me making a spectacle. Or have you forgotten?"

"That's not what I mean."

"That bastard knows I can't resist that song."

"Well it's not his fault you're from Bir-ming-ham, way down in Alabam," Jen teased as she started to percolate coffee. "So?"

Pat threw her head back and laughed. Knocking her knees together as she sang.

"She's so rock steady, and she's always ready."

"Are you going to answer my question?"

"I just did," Pat said as she unwrapped a piece of cheese.

"Why are you wearing last night's clothes?"

"Didn't we just cover that?"

"No."

Pat huffed as she put her knife down, but her smile was wide. "Let's just say there can be no question, my dear Watson, of the value of exercise before breakfast. "Or, in this case, before dawn."

"You went home with Chuck?!" Jenny asked in disbelief.

Pat smiled and buffed her nails against the lapel of her jacket.

"Hell no."

"But you went home with someone …" Jen pushed.

"Oh yeah."

"Who?"

Pat smiled mischievously before taking a large bite.

"What have you done?" Jen asked, as her mind contemplated the possibilities.

"Wake up, stud," she purred lazily.

Decker's eyes cracked open.

"Pat?" he croaked as he pulled himself up.

"Yeah, baby," she replied as she pressed a kiss to her index finger and then placed it to his lips.

"Christ!" Decker's head hit the pillow again. He opened his eyes again a second later and propped himself up on his elbow. "Did we ..."

"Mmhmm. I may have to start calling you the man of steel."

She got up from the bed. Sashaying slightly before bending down to pick up her clothes from the floor. Watching him out of the corner of her eye.

"Pat ..." He caught up with her as she reached the door.

"Oh come on, Will. We're adults. Lets not make this awkward."

"Right, but .. we need to keep this out of the office," he mumbled.

"Oh sure. It'll be our little secret. But we should really do it again sometime," she said as she placed a chaste kiss on his lips. "See you Monday."

"Uh ..yeah."

She managed to contain her laughter until she reached bottom of the stairwell.

Jen's eyes widened.

"You didn't?"

"I didn't. But he doesn't need to know that," Pat said with a laugh. "He was so wasted last night he wouldn't have found his pecker if it'd had a name tag on it. I had to pour him into bed."

"And then you stayed the night .."

"Yup." She took another bite of her sandwich.

"You smell of him."

"Splashed on some of his cologne. Had to make it credible and - what?"

"Nothing. I … what the hell were you thinking?"

Pat's face turned serious for a moment, and there was no trace of humour in her voice when she spoke.

"Someone had to put that prick in his place, Jen. He pawed you all night long. I was the last person he wanted in his bed. So let him feel awkward for a while. He thinks he's such a stud. Blech." She paused for a moment, and then started to laugh again. "He thinks he's such a prize but I swear ... he snores like a Harley!"

A dock in Naples

1430

He'd lost track of how many hours he'd been out here waging war against Ducky's parting shot. He'd been called many things over the years, but myopic had never been one of them.

Or perhaps nobody had ever had the balls to call him that before now.

His mind rebelled against the flashes of indifference shown to the way he'd wanted to do things over the past few days, and yet inbetween the jumbled thoughts and the anger something indefinable nagged at him.

He stood motionless as he looked out across the choppy water. Closing his eyes against the salty sea spray which occasionally hit his face. Heaviness tugged at him as he watched the diehard sailors flit across the marina in their boats; happiness and the rush of adrenaline etched into their features. Motion at two o'clock caught his eye, and he felt as though he was watching from outside himself as a petite woman sailed a small boat towards the dock at relatively high speed. But just as his body screamed for him to either get out of the way or do something, she dropped the sails and manoeuvred the boat into its slip perfectly.

A man he hadn't noticed hopped aboard and secured the boat. He couldn't hear what was being said, but as the man embraced her, there was no doubt that he was expressing his pride in a job well done.

A job well done.

The words stumbled around in his head, and as he flashed back to the approach of the sailboat at the oil terminal, his throat knotted up.

Each revelation piled on top of the one before it with the speed of a barrage of bullets from an automatic rifle.

Bringing clarity.

Opening the window on the fact that he'd let his own arrogance blindside him. That he was letting it get in the way of something good.

He hadn't given Jenny enough credit for having the sense to know her limitations, and he hadn't given her any credit at all for taking advantage of the situation which had presented itself.

The line he'd been so obsessed with having her follow had never been straight to begin with.

Swirling puffs of wind made his clothes wrap themselves around him - and suddenly all he could think of was Jenny.

Jenny with her soft hands and her warm smile.

Jenny and her hurt eyes.

He'd tossed and turned all night.

Tormented by thoughts of what it felt like to hold her. To be held by her.

He'd put himself through a series of push ups, sits ups, and the rudimentary equivalent of bench presses, come morning. Topping them off with a run down to the beach.

Pushing himself as hard as he could.

It hadn't helped.

Then, as now, all he could see were the unprompted kisses and caresses which dulled the pain residing in his soul; her body stroking his to completion; and the awakening of passion he'd forgotten he was capable of.

As he watched the couple on the boat laugh and hug, his only prospects for the afternoon his own company and the dismal confines of his apartment, the feeling he'd been unable to place rose from his subconscious in painful definition.

He missed her.

It was like a punch to the gut.

His anger dissolved.

Replaced instantly by a guilt which ricocheted through him.

Guilt over having failed two women co-existed with the failure to be faithful to his first love.

And to that he added the guilt over having underestimated Jenny.

He hadn't trusted her judgement and, intentional or not, he'd shamed her in front of her peers.

As he glanced at the embracing couple one last time, there was no doubt in his mind what needed to be done.

But as he stalked away to try and redress the balance, the knowledge that he had no way of knowing how she'd respond preyed on his mind.