A Book By Its Cover
A/N: Same as before. Thanks to TiamatV for her beta services, but I'm keeping any remaining mistakes for myself; I'm greedy that way.
Disclaimer: I own nothing except a pair of cats, and they'll argue about who really owns whom.
Chapter 4
After a week of desert exercises, Lady Jaye trudged through the Pit thinking only of a long shower, a vat of moisturizer and her bunk. Opening the door to the darkened women's barracks, she noted Cover Girl was back and entered the room quietly. She hadn't gotten far before the lump on the ex-model's bed stirred.
"Go do something about lover boy before his codename gets changed to 'Mr. Cranky Pants,'" said a mumbled voice from under a blanket.
"We are not lovers," she said tiredly, dropping her duffle bag on the floor.
"Probably why you're both so cranky."
"I'm not cranky!"
"Gah."
Jaye's retort died in her throat as the tank driver rolled over and went back to sleep. Letting out a long breath, she cast a parting, wistful look at her bunk before heading to the control center.
When the Pit had originally been designed, privacy and personal space hadn't been considered priorities, and that had been for a team of only twelve. Since then, the Joes had grown to scores of members, but they'd never really gained any additional space – leaving them packed like the world's most highly-trained and lethal can of sardines. It was impossible to keep anything a secret for long in their headquarters.
As a result, everyone noticed the change in Lady Jaye and Flint's relationship, although no one, including Jaye, claimed to understand what was going on. He continued to be blatantly interested in sex, but he was far less aggressive in his approach. That made him a lot easier for her to deal with, and a sort of tentative friendship was developing.
One consequence of that was Jaye's presence usually calmed him down when he was in a bad mood. That, in turn, was a fact the whole team eagerly exploited since his temper had been even shorter than normal; a nasty infection had slowed the recovery of his leg injury, and he grew more frustrated the longer he was stuck at headquarters.
She found Flint alone in the radio room, sitting with a mountain of paperwork in front of him.
"Everything okay?" she asked softly.
He turned suddenly at the sound of her voice, but he gave her a nod in greeting as he leaned back in his chair. "Beach Head's team missed their last two radio check-ins."
"Are they still in the jungle where Destro is building that thingamajig?"
"I think the technical term is 'doohickey'," he said.
She placed a hand on his shoulder, concerned by how tense his muscles were. "Didn't Breaker say that whatever it is, it was interfering with local radio transmissions?"
"Yes," he said, taking a deep breath and obviously trying to relax.
"So, a lack of radio contact isn't unexpected."
"No," Flint admitted slowly, "but they didn't have any troubles earlier. We don't know if the snakes found them, or if Destro turned up the juice on that thing to toast his crumpets."
"That's conjuring up mental images involving the Baroness that I really didn't need," she said lightly. Moving around to lean against the control panel, she watched him carefully. He gave her a half-hearted smile, but it was clear to her that he was still concerned.
She wondered how many people even suspected that this side of him existed.
The rest of the team assumed his bad mood was a result of his injury, and that was partially true. That was the obvious part of his nature – he wasn't one to wait on the sidelines; he was the kind who always wanted to be in the thick of the action. But the reason ran deeper than that, although it wasn't obvious.
For all his confidence in his own tactical plans and in his teammates' abilities, Flint wanted to be in the field in case anything went wrong. The man who'd be the first to brusquely state, "They knew what they signed up for," if a mission went awry – and honestly believe his own words – still worried about his friends. And it bothered him, deeply, that he wasn't in a position to go to their aid if they needed help.
It was an emotional connection that he tried to hide, but once she saw the first hints of its existence, it was impossible for her to ignore. While his professionalism was admirable in its own right, knowing that it was tempered by compassion – albeit unexpressed – raised Jaye's opinion of him considerably.
That was a position she found herself constantly readjusting in the aftermath of their European mission.
The added information about his personality made her realize there really was more to Flint than he let others see, leaving her wondering how much he still kept hidden. Oh, he was certainly gregarious in his good moods, just as his temper was notorious, and his frustration obvious. But his fears, his worries, his hopes and motivations – those he kept to himself, only letting Jaye catch glimpses of them.
He wasn't so much a book as an anthology; none of the covers he allowed to show told the whole story about him. The mystery only made him more interesting to Lady Jaye, even as it added to the confusion about how she felt.
"You know, your leg would probably heal faster if you actually took your R&R," she said kindly, watching him cautiously stretching his left leg out.
"What's the point of taking a vacation if you can't enjoy it?" he grumbled. "Besides, someone needs to do the paperwork. That's something Doc will let me do."
"Yeah, what does he know? Four years of medical school, residency, internship, years treating battle injuries," Jaye said with a straight face, finally smiling when he rolled his shoulders in acknowledgment and flashed her a grin.
"I know, I know. It's just … I don't like being on the sidelines."
"So we've noticed."
Flint let out a huff and turned around to face her, and Jaye shook her head as the familiar hunger filled his eyes. She was wind-chapped, sunburnt, and hadn't had a proper shower in days, and he still wanted her. If nothing else, the man knew how to make her feel desirable.
"Down, boy. I've been in the field for a week. My BDUs could walk off on their own," she said in mock-warning.
"Well, they say it's what's underneath that counts."
"And that's not too appealing right now."
"You're gorgeous," Flint said, and he actually sounded sincere.
"You're not so rough on the eyes yourself," she admitted, wondering if the sunburn covered her blush.
His face lit up at the compliment. "It's not my only good quality."
"So you've told me. I'm going to bed. You should do the same," Lady Jaye said, pushing off the console and heading for the door. She paused partway and looked over her shoulder. "And that wasn't an invitation."
"You sure?"
"Very."
"You don't know what you're missing," Flint called out as he gathered his papers together.
"And yet somehow I think I'll survive," Jaye sighed dramatically, giving him a parting smile before leaving.
Flint's mood was better the next day, especially after Recondo radioed in to report that he had rendezvoused with Beach Head's team and found them all right; the mystery machine had been blocking their transmissions. When Hawk gave Jaye a passing, amused look later in the afternoon, she wondered if her job description was now going to include warrant officer-sitting duties.
To her surprise, the idea wasn't entirely unappealing. They had stressful jobs, and anything that helped the team function better was worth pursuing. And she liked the knucklehead; if she could help him focus, then that was an added bonus.
Her growing closeness with Flint wasn't without its complications, though. Their newfound openness also meant their professional disagreements were more frank, a tendency that came to light when the team received news of potential Cobra activity in San Francisco.
The local authorities didn't have much concrete evidence to offer, nor did they seem to take the reports too seriously. The FBI had provided some general information, but the Joes were basically going into the mission blind. That didn't sit well with Lady Jaye, especially after the intelligence blunder in Europe, so she volunteered to go in first to scout out more information.
Flint overrode her, not wanting to delay getting the snakes out of the country. Personally, she thought he was too anxious to finally be going on a mission again, although she never voiced that opinion. Their private disagreement on the matter never really escalated – although Duke did stick his head in the office once to ask if anything was wrong – but the bickering left them mildly annoyed with one another.
Despite their quarrel, she was the first person Flint picked to join his team.
Early the next morning, she met Gung Ho, Lifeline and Dial Tone by the jeep, smiling when she realized she'd interrupted an extremely lewd joke the burly Marine was sharing with the others. Noticing their discomfort, Jaye delivered the punch line – adding hand gestures to emphasize its sexual nature. Dial Tone looked like he was about to die of shock as the meaning of her words sunk in, Gung Ho's jaw dropped before he burst out into a guttural laugh, but she really delighted in the blush creeping up Lifeline's face.
She was gently teasing the medic when Flint shouted out gruff orders to get a move on, and his scowl almost seemed to have an edge of hurt to it. His reaction bothered her, since she didn't think their earlier argument had been more than a professional difference of opinion.
Calling shotgun, she climbed into the front seat next to Flint, trying to soothe things over with a kind look. If he noticed her effort, he never acknowledged it as they headed out.
Things really went downhill almost immediately.
The plan was for them to pick up their air transport at McGuire Air Force Base in New Jersey – except that a drunken truck driver had crashed ahead of them on the expressway, jack-knifing and hitting several other vehicles in the process. Once they stopped, Lifeline immediately jumped out of the jeep to aid the wounded, and Flint had just started barking at him when Jaye put a hand on his shoulder.
"It's not like we're going anywhere," she pointed out, indicating the complete standstill in front of them.
The other Joes got out to assist until the local authorities showed up, and several times she noted Flint's annoyed look as she went from car to car, helping Lifeline check for injuries. She sighed privately at his impatience but understood why he was in a hurry.
It took nearly an hour for the accident to be cleared and traffic to start rolling again, and that threw off their flight plans, delaying their takeoff for another ninety minutes. Once airborne, they hit a bad patch of turbulence. Cargo planes weren't comfortable in good conditions, and everyone was sore by the time the weather started to clear. Going over the Mississippi, the plane started experiencing serious problems with the hydraulics. By the time they reached the Rockies, the turbulence had kicked in again, and they were all ready to get back on the ground – hopefully without the use of parachutes.
Throughout it all, Lady Jaye tried to be patient with Flint. She suspected he had banged his leg during the first bout of turbulence, and there was no way he'd take something for the pain since the drugs would only cloud his thinking. Instead, the mercurial man snapped at the team the whole flight. His behavior was so different from his norm in the field that it was putting everyone on edge.
She kept telling herself he was in pain, not being a pain, even after he refused her offer of aspirin. Feeling sympathetic for Flint, she acted as a buffer between him and the rest of the team, trying not to take his grumbling personally. But when he groused at her about some imaginary transgression, Jaye decided she'd reached the limits of her patience and crossed the cargo hold to take a seat next to Lifeline on the opposite bench.
Lady Jaye hadn't had a chance to spend much time with the pacifist medic, and she was curious about him. A lot of the team assumed his refusal to handle weapons meant he was a coward, but she had the opposite opinion: it took incredible courage to walk unarmed into a firefight against an enemy who'd see him as an easy target. While she had serious doubts about his level of common sense – and quite possibly his sanity – she never doubted his bravery.
He greeted her with an understanding smile as she sank onto the bench.
"How do you stay so calm?" she asked softly. "I'm ready to toss him overboard and tell Hawk he tripped. I don't think anyone would contradict me at this point."
"It doesn't do any good to get upset about things you can't change. All it does is emphasize that you don't have control," Lifeline said, dropping his head closer to hers. "Besides, I'm too busy concentrating on keeping my lunch down."
Chuckling, she leaned back on the seat and caught the angry glare Flint directed their way. She held his gaze for a long time, refusing to be intimidated. If he actually thought they were laughing at his injury, then the oaf was a bigger lug-head than she had ever imagined.
Their plane landed later that afternoon, but once on the ground, things didn't improve. In a short time, they verified that the "Cobra activity" was nothing more than a bunch of bored kids who thought dressing up as terrorists increased their reputations as wannabe anarchists. Flint read them the riot act, but technically they hadn't broken any laws, so the local police refused to get involved.
The team grabbed sandwiches from a deli while Dial Tone called Hawk at the Pit to fill him in on the details. Since their plane was supposed to be repaired by early morning, Hawk wouldn't spring for a commercial flight back to New York, telling them to enjoy their night off in San Francisco.
Gung Ho headed for a bar almost immediately, and Dial Tone went to catch up with an old ham-radio buddy who lived in the area. Flint was in the midst of growling parting warnings that anyone late back to the plane would have to walk home when Lifeline asked Lady Jaye where she wanted to spend the night.
Neither noticed the furious and pained stare directed their way.
"I think I'm going to catch a show," she said, pulling a colorful flyer from the wall. It was for a performance of Cymbeline by an experimental theatrical company in the neighborhood. The idea sounded different enough to be entertaining, and, at this point, anything was better than dealing with a certain beret-topped walking bad mood.
"Do you like the theater? My sister did some back in Seattle. I never really got into it," Lifeline said, leaning over her shoulder to read the paper.
"Want to tag along?" she asked in a friendly tone. "I'm not sure if you'll like it. This show will probably be a bit, uh, different, shall we say."
"Just what kind of performance is it?" Flint demanded, snatching the flyer from her hand.
"Something cultural. You won't be interested," Jaye said shortly, finally fed up with his foul mood. "There's no sex in it."
The warrant officer ignored her comment as he stood up, but his expression made her feel like she'd just kicked his favorite puppy. "Let's go. The play starts soon."
She just stared at him, finally muttering something under her breath as she got up from the table. She made it halfway across the room before she stopped, turning around suddenly. Flint stepped back to avoid running into her.
"If you had let me do my job in the first place and gotten more Intel, we could have avoided this whole mess," she told him in a low voice that only emphasized her own anger. "And if you're still in so much pain, you shouldn't have gone on a mission."
Jaye headed for the door, trying to regain her cool. She felt for Flint; she truly did. His first mission in ages, and it was failing on every level, but he didn't have to take his frustrations out on everyone else! No, not on the others – on her; nothing she did was right. If she tried to talk to him, he barked. If she tried to talk to one of the other guys, he got angrier. Just what was his problem?
Lifeline followed her quickly, obviously trying to prevent the argument from escalating by changing the subject. "So, did you ever do any acting?"
"You could say that," she said. In truth, it was one of the things she missed the most from her old life. Cover Girl liked musicals and light comedies, and they sometimes caught a show, but there wasn't anyone on the team who knew theater well enough to have a serious discussion about it.
She started to offer more information when she noted Flint following right behind them, his expression upset. The last thing she wanted was for him to ruin the show by grousing through the whole thing. Lifeline picked up on her mood, and he used his Aikido skills to slip into the chair beside her, ignoring the warrant officer's evil glower as he was forced to take the aisle seat.
The medic tried to keep everything peaceful by talking about neutral subjects as they waited for the lights to go down. Lady Jaye appreciated his efforts and answered him lightly, something that seemed to only cause Flint to glare harder.
"Oh, for God's sake, Flint, the mission was scrubbed. Please take something for the pain before you give us all ulcers," she urged him quietly. "Some of us want to relax."
To her surprise, he mumbled, "Fine," and took the package of over-the-counter painkillers Lifeline pulled out of an inner pocket. He dry-swallowed a handful and slouched in his chair with his arms crossed over his chest.
Jaye tried to ignore him as she settled back to watch the performance, but every so often she caught him staring at her. Not knowing why he was acting the way he was – and no longer really caring why – she concentrated on the show, getting lost in the magic of the stage. It wasn't a great performance, but it was enough to distract her from the beret-wearing bear seething at her.
After the show, they headed to the lounge where they were to meet up with the others. On the way, she tried to talk to Lifeline about the show, but she could tell he was only being polite and hadn't enjoyed it. She didn't bother asking Flint, as his mood was obvious.
When the warrant officer went to find a payphone to check on the plane's repair status, Lady Jaye dropped Lifeline a hint that she wanted to be alone for a while, and he gave her a smile before leaving her table. She saw him run into Dial Tone as the radio expert entered the lounge, and the two left when the jazz group starting playing.
Nursing a drink, she tried to figure out why Flint was in such a bad temper. Pain was part of it, clearly, and she imagined frustration was taking its toll on him as well. To her growing consternation, she had a sinking feeling her behavior had played a key role, but she couldn't fathom what her transgression had been. It was hard to believe that he'd let their earlier differences of opinion about the mission affect his performance – he had picked her for the team, after all – but maybe he really thought they'd been laughing at him on the plane?
"Did you actually like that piece of shit?" Flint growled, surprising her as he dropped into the chair opposite her.
"I don't think I've ever heard anyone refer to Shakespeare as 'shit' before," she noted dryly, uncertain if she was up to dealing with him. If he had been offended, she'd apologize and let him know they hadn't been making fun of him on the flight out. Later – he had her nerves too frayed right now. They still had hours to wait for the plane, and she didn't relish the idea of listening to him complain the entire time.
He leaned back in his chair, his arms crossed angrily over his chest. "Fine, did you like that godawful dreck that was set in modern times and used hideous dialogue?"
Truthfully, she had found the play lacking in many ways, although she'd understood what the theatrical company had attempted to accomplish. But there was no way in hell she was going to give Flint the satisfaction of admitting it hadn't lived up to her expectations.
"It needs some refinement in certain areas, but it has a lot of potential," she told him levelly.
"Huh!" he snorted derisively.
"I told you you wouldn't like it," she pointed out, mentally counting to ten to keep herself calm.
"But you thought Lifeline would?"
After rolling her eyes, she fixed him with a steady gaze. He was going too far now. If she didn't know better, she'd think he was actually…
Jealous?
Had that been his problem the entire trip? Did he really think she had been flirting with Lifeline? And what if she had? He had no claims on her, despite his exhaustive – and exhausting – attempts to bed her. She wasn't his personal toy.
Lady Jaye's first inclination was to add "possessiveness" to his list of personality flaws, but then it dawned on her that to be jealous, he actually had to care, at least on some level. Why else would it bother him? And apparently it bothered him a lot.
"Stop being childish," she told him distractedly, trying to process this latest bit of information. If he acted this way when they weren't together, what would he be like if they were a couple?
A purely hypothetical question, she quickly added to herself.
"I'm not being childish!" he grumbled. "Why didn't you ask me to go with you?"
Jaye set her drink down and stared at him in open disbelief. Okay, so maybe he cared at some level, but take Mr. Brash-and-Crass to the theater? Besides, after his behavior today, the only place she'd wanted to take him was to the cleaners. "You have to be joking."
"I'm not."
"Why in God's name would I invite you to see a Shakespearean play? Or 'that piece of shit', as you so elegantly put it."
His obviously angry response died in his throat, and his head tilted as he stared at her. Flint's mouth slowly closed as confusion settled over his features, leaving Jaye feeling that she was missing some important piece of information.
Her discomfort grew, realizing that Flint really believed he'd been the logical choice for her to invite. Why he felt that way made no sense; he'd never once shown any interest in anything that could be even vaguely classified as cultural, but it was also clear that he was hurt that she hadn't asked him.
"Look, I love the theater. That wasn't the best performance I've seen, but I liked the play," she said, trying to restore the peace. "I really don't want to fight with you, but we're getting on each others' nerves today, so unless you can talk intelligently about the plot, I'd prefer it if you would please just go away."
"What plot? They butchered the story! They made Posthumus the villain, Iachimo the hero, and they completely cut Cloten out of the story. Don't even get me started on what they did to Imogen's character."
Lady Jaye felt her jaw drop. It was stunning enough to find out that he had stopped pouting long enough to pay attention to the play, but… he actually knew one of Shakespeare's more obscure works? Knew it well enough that he recognized the changes to the storyline? He had an impressive vocabulary, certainly, but this was an aspect of him that caught her by surprise.
What was even more amazing, Flint – a man fearless in the face of Cobra attacks – looked like he wanted to bolt as she continued to gape at him.
Closing her mouth, she watched as he glanced around nervously. Realizing that no one had overheard him, he relaxed slightly. For some reason, he didn't want the others to know that he was familiar with a Shakespearean play. The man bragged about everything else, but this was something he kept hidden?
Now Flint had her complete attention.
"Did you get that they were trying to improve Imogen's characterization?" she prompted calmly, hoping to draw him into a conversation. He was actually wary, a fact that puzzled her. The man was usually so confident it was irritating; his behavior now was disconcerting.
Maybe she was too defensive around Flint.
"Her character wasn't well-developed in the original play," she added when he remained quiet.
"None of the characters were," he mumbled under his breath.
Jaye signaled the waitress to bring him a drink and started discussing the play. For a long time, it was mainly one-sided, but he slowly started offering opinions. His dislike of the performance was real, not an angry byproduct of their earlier bickering. To her surprise, he knew the original as well as she did, if not better; he had a detailed understanding of the characters and plot, the themes and the imagery used in the play.
It didn't take her long to realize that his understanding was entirely literary; he wasn't familiar with theater conventions, and she began explaining the significance of the changes, what the director and writer had tried to do. The warrant officer asked a few astute questions, but he generally just nodded when she made a point.
They never reached an agreement on the play, but Flint was able to back up all the things he disliked with solid arguments. And he didn't seem upset that she didn't share his views; if anything, he seemed to enjoy the way she challenged his positions. It was turning into one of the best intellectual discussions she had had in ages, but she was still having a hard time believing with whom she was having it. "Flint" and "Shakespeare" were two words she never thought she'd use in the same sentence.
As they wound down their disagreement about the play, they settled into a battle of wits as they each tried to score the last points in the discussion. Gradually, they realized they were too evenly matched, and it became a mock-battle. Even more gradually, a gentle and timorous note of teasing slipped underneath their barbs.
Jaye found the change in the conversation's tenor perfectly natural, pleasantly noting how enjoyable Flint's company was away from military matters and just how handsome he really was. It was a reaction she wanted to attribute to the alcohol, but she was too honest to completely believe the self-delusion. She was also candid enough to admit that in different circumstances, their evening would have ended in a more personal manner.
Flint was getting in another playfully pointed dig about her taste in entertainment when a sudden voice caused them to start.
"I can't believe they're still fighting," Lifeline said from behind them, and they both turned to see the medic heading toward the bar, where Gung Ho and Dial Tone waited on the other side of the room.
Lady Jaye checked her watch, startled to realize she and Flint had been talking for hours, although the tabletop was littered with empty glasses and dishes from their snacking. From their looks, she suspected the others had overheard their verbal mêlée but had missed the flirtatious nature of the comments – a fact for which she was immensely grateful.
"Guess it's time to grab the guys and go," she said, a touch of regret in her voice. "Let's hope the flight back is better."
Pulling out his wallet, he signaled the waitress for their bill and grunted a non-committal response. He'd closed himself off again; for whatever reason, this wasn't a side he wanted the guys to know about. Jaye thought that was a shame – she enjoyed this aspect of his personality and wouldn't mind getting to see more of it.
Looking around to make sure the others were out of hearing distance, she turned to him with a gentle smile. "So, you actually have a brain."
He stared at her for a moment, his befuddled look slowly replaced by a crooked grin as he realized she was teasing him. Heading toward the door, he leaned his head close to hers and whispered suggestively, "Feel free to pick it whenever you want."
"Oh, shut up," Jaye said, shaking her head in amusement as she walked out beside him, never noticing that the rest of the team was watching them in confusion.
TBC
A/N II: There's been a death in the family, so the next part may take a little longer to get up. I'll try to get at least a short chapter done as soon as I can.
