Chapter 7
By the time he reached the entrance to the block he had started to tremble again, his heart pounding in his chest, breathless and terrified of everything around him. He needed to get to safety. To get away from everything here outside. To get into the sanctuary of his own home. He nearly ran up the stairs, fumbling in his pockets for the door key.
It was ridiculous. His hand was shaking so much that he couldn't get the key into the lock. He could hear the lift arriving with the agents and Colonel Philips. Desperately he held one hand steady with the other and finally managed it. Inside. The door shut, locked, secure behind him. He breathed deep gasping breaths though he was not breathless, not tired.
The curtains were still open and he hurried to close them, dragging them almost violently across the wide expanses of glass, shutting out the view. He checked the patio doors. Locked. There was a sound in the living room. Startled he turned, reaching for his gun, but it was only Colonel Philips, her face pale and worried, Dave Johnson behind her.
'Ed,' she began.
'I've got some work to do,' he curtly informed her. 'I'll be in my office. Probably most of the evening.' Dave looked at him in bewilderment but Straker was adamant. 'I don't need anything, apart from some peace and quiet. Please, leave me alone.' He turned his back on them and went to get drink of water from the fridge. 'Still here?' he questioned Dave.
'Ed,' she tried again.
'I told you. I'm alright. I just have a lot to do. It's been a difficult day. I'll be through later.' He went over to the patio doors, looking through the screened glass at the waterfront below, cutting her off from any further attempt at conversation or resolution.
She spent a solitary evening in front of the television, too distracted by his behaviour to attempt to write reports or catch up on her work. Instead she found herself watching inconsequential and trivial programmes that she had never seen before and could not recall afterwards, and went to bed, unaccompanied and cold, hugging his pillow to her in poor consolation.
It was well aftermidnightwhen she awoke to realise that she was still alone in their bed, the sheets on his side cold and undisturbed. Surely he was not still working? Anxiously she got up. No, his small office area was deserted, although he had left the lights on and paperwork strewn untidily across the desk where he had been working. Where the hell was he? She was beginning to panic, to consider getting the agents from the flat next door, then noticed the pale line of light under the door to the second bedroom.
He was in there, asleep, restless, uneasy. His clothes flung haphazardly on the floor as if he had been desperate to get out of them. She saw his gun on the table by the bed. That concerned her more than anything.
He was almost fanatical about his weapon. If he was not wearing it, which was extremely rare, then it was locked in the safe cabinet or at night it was under his pillow, within easy reach should he need it. It was unheard of for him to leave it out on a table. For one moment she didn't know what to do, then her training, her expertise, took control. Ultra quietly, ultra carefully she crossed the room and picked up his Glock.
She put the gun away in the cabinet. If he needed it he would have to look for it and that would be the first place he would search. She went back to where he was sleeping, not to disturb him, but to turn off the light in the hope that he might settle. She laid her hand on his forehead; a slight temperature, but that was only to be expected after the stress of the day, and she knew that it was nothing to be overly concerned about. Still, she did not like to leave him alone, unguarded.
And yet, he had not wanted to come to her, had in fact deliberately avoided her. It would be best if she left him alone, left him to sleep off whatever was troubling him. He would be feeling better in the morning, she tried to convince herself, but her words were lacking in conviction. There was little she could do now, but wait. And get some sleep.
Thoughtful and concerned she went back to her own bed. She did not sleep well, disturbed by troublesome dreams, and, tired and jaded, was woken by her alarm call from an unpleasant nightmare of guns and aliens and blood and empty beds. Six-thirty. Gods, she felt like she hadn't slept at all. Coffee, that's what she needed. And she would make him one as well.
His bed was empty. Clothes still on the floor, but he had clearly gone out. The wardrobe, where he kept his spare clothes, was open, and the bathroom still had traces of condensation blurring the mirror. A damp towel on the floor, his spare razor in the sink, a new toothbrush out of its wrapper and used.
'Damn.' she swore to herself, and went to see if the agents next door had any information. It appeared not. He had driven himself in to work about ten minutes previously, without speaking to anyone. The escorting team reported that he had seemed rather anxious, but nothing to be overly concerned about. They had ensured that he was safely underground in HQ and reported to base before ending their shift. She dressed quickly, and followed him, phoning Alec Freeman as she drove. 'Colonel, we may have a problem with the Commander.' She came straight to the point.
'What's up?' She could hear the concern in his voice despite the fact that she had woken him from sleep.
'I don't want to explain over the phone. Can you meet me at HQ?'
'Twenty minutes.' He put the phone down.
Straker's car was parked in his reserved slot and as she entered Control she could see that they were in the throes of dealing with an alert. He was standing in his usual vantage point, behind the Communications Chief, silently concentrating on the radar images that were being transmitted.
Perhaps that was why he had come in early without notifying her. Perhaps HQ had called him in for an emergency that Colonel Lake was incapable of handling. Unlikely though. Rachel knew how competent Virginia Lake was. It would take something quite exceptional for her to admit she needed help from Straker.
'Moonbase Control to Commander Straker. Interceptors report all UFOs destroyed. No reports of any casualties. Interceptors returning to base.'
Straker looked around the room to check the status of all systems. Obviously satisfied he turned on his heel and left, without a word, picking up his coffee as he did so. He held it tightly as he entered his office, the door closing behind him, shutting out the noise and distractions.
Rachel watched. It was not like him to leave the control room straight after an incident. He was particular about the need to check the clear-up operations, to check that all interceptors had returned safely to base, that all systems were functioning at full capacity. But he had simply walked away as if he had to get out of the room.
Her office, further down the corridor from his, was small and made even smaller by the presence of Alec Freeman standing looking at the art work on her wall.
'This is interesting. Is it new?' he asked.
She explained to Alec how she had acquired the painting from a local artist living in the apartment block. Ed had been impressed by his work and had offered to buy Rachel one of the pieces for her office. 'An investment, actually,' Ed had told her, 'I think he has great potential. In fact I'm going to get one for my study as well.'
Rachel had eventually picked one piece that reminded her of Ed. Almost Mondrian in its simplicity of rectangles of brilliant blue, cream, rose-pink, and silver with wafer-thin lines of darkest cobalt, deep and shadowy. It could have been the painting that symbolised everything about him; calculating, perfect on the exterior, his blue eyes seeing patterns where other people saw nothing, but underneath that rigid, mathematical mind there was a quiet man, loving and passionate with pure, warm, rich emotions that sometimes startled her with their intensity. The softness of the colours reminded her of him, his kindness, his gentleness, the colour of his hair, the cream suit that she particularly liked.
He had picked his blue suit today. Was that deliberate or merely an accident? It was the one he had worn for his last meeting withHenderson. A meeting that had not gone well. Ed had come away infuriated and raging atHenderson's refusal to increase the SHADO budget, and she recalled that he had changed out of the suit and had put it away in the spare room as if it was associated with unpleasant memories.
And now here he was, wearing it again. The dressing on his wound was creased and stained. He had not been to sick bay to have it redressed. That was so unlike him. He was generally fastidious about his appearance, having to protect his carefully constructed alter-image of wealthy Executive Film Producer. She went over the previous evening's incident, explaining to Alec what had happened in the car and afterwards.
'I don't know,' he answered, 'It's not like Ed to get scared over something and nothing. And he couldn't give you a reason?'
She shook her head. 'He just seemed so…I don't know, such a stranger last night. I've never seen him like that before, even when he's been really tired. It was as if he didn't want me anywhere near him, didn't want anything to do with me. Perhaps it's me.' She looked up at Alec through eyes beginning to shine with tears.
'He's got to deal with Gavin, Packard's lover yet. That's not a pleasant thing to have to face.' Freeman tried to justify Ed's behaviour.
'Come on Alec, nothing has been formally decided about Gavin. No, something has frightened Ed, upset him, and seriously enough to make him shut himself off.'
Alec was silent for a while. 'What do you want me to do, Colonel?'
'Can you stay here in HQ for a while this morning? You may need to getColonelLakein later. I'm going to try to get Ed out for a while and see if I can't get to the bottom of this. I'm concerned that he may have a full blown panic attack while he is dealing with an incident and then we would be in serious trouble.'
'Okay, but be careful. Ed can be very difficult if he thinks you are trying to trick him. Can you think of anything else that might have happened yesterday? Anything at all that may have brought this on?'Alec asked.
She looked at him, amused and cynical. 'Apart from him being stalked by a mad lover set on revenge, having to defuse a bomb in his own house, and nearly getting his throat cut? No, nothing out of the ordinary.'
Alec considered what she had said. 'He wouldn't have been panicked by any of those events Rachel, we both know that. He might have been, if it had involved you or SHADO but he has had far worse to deal with on a personal level and has sailed through. Look, go and drag him out of his office on some pretence or other, then try to get him home. He may open up to you if there is no one else around. I'll stay here until I hear from you.'
She nodded her thanks and left, walking briskly to Straker's office. Formally, properly, appropriately, as one would address one's senior officer, she spoke. 'Excuse me Commander. I need you to authorise some improvements to the gatehouse security. Would it be possible for you to come now, sir?'
He looked up at her, almost unfamiliar in his blue suit. He looked dreadful, she realised, with dark rings under his eyes, and his face grey with tiredness and stress. There was an air of apprehension about him, as if he feared what she was going to do or say, then he nodded and stood up, leaning on the desk for support.
'Very well Colonel, I can spare you ten minutes.' He followed her out, not close to her, not even within touching distance. They could have been total strangers she thought to herself, instead of two people who shared the same flat, the same bed, the same future. Her heart ached with longing, longing to have him reach out for her hand, to fiercely, passionately, pull her close for a long, lingering and intimate kiss, but it was not to be.
She led the way. Out into the sunlight, pale and thin at this time of year. It was cold, sharply cold, but he seemed unaware of it, walking almost in a daze past the reception area out to the car park leading to the entrance.
'Commander, just stop there for a moment,' she ordered. He looked at her as if seeing her for the first time and not liking it.
'Colonel?' his voice dripped icicles.
'I'm sorry Commander, but I'm under Colonel Freeman's explicit instructions.' Coward, she thought to herself. 'He insists that you return home as you are obviously unwell. I have been asked to drive you back and make sure that you get some rest.' She stared at him, daring him to walk away although if he had she would have been powerless to stop him.
He looked grim. 'Colonel Freeman's orders? Are you sure? Very well. You may drive me home. But please, do not have the temerity to pretend that you were not complicit in this.' He refused to speak any further, sitting in the back of the car, ignoring her as she drove.
She walked behind him up the stairs, noting that he was keeping himself under control by a supreme effort of will. He stood back to allow her to open the door, afraid that his trembling hands would betray his emotions. That his weakness would be revealed. That he would have to explain everything to her.
Once inside the apartment she closed the door and turned to face him. 'Now. You are going to tell me exactly what is going on, Ed. And don't even think of shutting me out again like you did last night. If you do, I will pack my stuff and go back to my own flat. Then I will request a transfer. Do you really want that?' Her voice was harsh.
He sat, as if his legs had given way, on one of the sofas, his head in his hands. Motionless, unable to move for fear of the future. Then he raised his head and looked at her as if from a deep dark nightmare abyss. For one terrible moment she thought he was going to tell her to go, tell her to leave, to pack up and abandon him.
She moved to sit next to him but inexplicably he edged away from her, clearly uncomfortable with the closeness of her presence.
'Ed, what is the matter?' she was quiet now, quiet and concerned.
'It's so stupid, so ridiculous,' he began and then started to shake uncontrollably.
She reached out to comfort him as she had when he had broken down that night , their first night together, but he stood up, stepped away from her, his back to her, rigid and tense. She simply didn't know what to do.
'I'll go then, shall I?' she whispered brokenly and stood, heading away from him to their bedroom to begin the painful process of collecting all her things.
'Rachel…please….' he was unable to say any more. Standing there, desperately, desperately unhappy. She could see the sheer misery in his face, but if he couldn't open up to her, what future did they have? Theirs was a relationship based on total and complete trust and once that was no longer there, the relationship was bound to fail. And it appeared that he no longer trusted her enough to talk to her.
She stared into his blue eyes, now glistening with unshed tears. He looked ghastly, exhausted, stressed on the very edge of breaking down. All she wanted to do was to hold him, to soothe away all the fears all the pain and worry. But he would not let her. He had built a barrier around himself and had refused to let her in. She could not help him now. He would have to make the first move.
He watched her as she walked away, unable to force his body to move, unable to tell her what he needed to say. And he knew without a shadow of a doubt that he would lose her, would lose his very reason for living if he did not try.
But how could he explain it to her? Was he being foolish? Or over-reacting? It was just that every time he closed his eyes and thought of her he could feel….. No he had to stop. Maybe she would be able to help him. God knows, someone needed to help him. He had gone through hell last year, physical and mental hell and he had no intention of following that path downhill again.
She came back into the room, hesitantly, looking at him, both of them motionless. It was as if time had frozen. They were almost statues, facing each other but unable to face the truth.
'Please,' she could hardly hear his plea, his voice a mere murmur. 'Please helpme.' and he held his arms out to her. He prayed that she would respond; that she would not ignore him as he had ignored her earlier. She moved into his arms gladly, holding him with an embrace that crushed all his fears about her love for him and left them crumpled, forgotten. She lifted her face to kiss him, but he stopped her, his fingers on her lips.
'We need to talk… I need to talk, Rachel.' And he led her to the sofa, sitting next to her, hands clasped to try to prevent them shaking uncontrollably. And then he told her. Told her what had happened. With a hesitant, almost inaudible voice he retold the events of the previous day. Not the parts she knew about, the unwelcome gifts, the bomb, the attack, but the untold account of what had happened while he was being held by Gavin.
The distraught man had talked at length about his love for James Packard and how it had been reciprocated. Gavin blamed Straker for James Packard's death.
'He was the only man I ever loved,' he told Straker, 'the only man I had ever kissed, had ever slept with and you took him away from me.'
There was nothing Straker could do to deny it. Gavin had been aware of James's activities as IAC member and knew that Straker was involved with Packard's disappearance.
Gavin had threatened him with the knife, cutting his throat lightly at first then more deeply as if taking pleasure in the sight of blood.
'I was tied up, and couldn't do anything to stop him as he cut me.' Straker told Rachel, his hands clasped tightly in front of him.
'Is that what made you panic, Ed?' she asked. 'It's not something I thought would have upset you. Not pleasant, no, but you have the toughness to cope with that. And you must have been aware that help was on the way.'
He looked at her sadly, almost ashamed. 'No Rachel, it wasn't that. He didn't hurt me that much. He told me that Packard wouldn't have wanted him to kill me. That James was always gentle, was always kind to him. That's why he let me go so easily. Gavin just placed a memory in my mind that keeps returning, reappearing like a persistent nightmare. Something so simple yet so abhorrent.'
'Ed?'
'Stupid, stupid.'' he muttered to himself, shaking his head in despair, and she reached across and clasped his hands.
'Tell me. Tell me what happened.'
'I don't even know if you'd understand.'
'Try me.'
He put his head down, trying to phrase what it was he needed to say to her. How did you say it? How could he explain? How would she react? His mind twisted in turmoil. Thoughts and feelings mixed up in a maelstrom of fear. There was nothing else to do but tell her, quickly, without emotion, without unnecessary words.
She waited.
He took a deep breath.
'Gavin said that James was the only man he had ever loved, had ever really kissed. He wanted to make me realise what that meant. How important James had been to him. He thought I should know what it felt like to be kissed by another man, as he had been kissed by James.' He paused, his face grim at the memory. 'I could have dealt with it, could have coped with it, but for the fact that I could feel the blood warm on my neck and could imagine not seeing you ever again and wanting so much to kiss you one last time, to feel your lips on mine. But instead of you I had the taste of sour alcohol, of stale smoke, and lips that hurt. A kiss given with the intention of causing pain.' He fell silent for a few moments. 'Do you understand Rachel? Can you possibly understand how I feel?'
'Oh, Ed.' She could say nothing. This pain, both mental and physical, was real, was tainting everything he touched.
'And every time I want to kiss you, or hold your hand, or curl up beside you I can feel his mouth, his tongue, his lips, his hands holding my face, forcing his mouth against mine.'
It all made sense now. The car journey with the seatbelts, restraining him like the restraints Gavin had used. Ed's refusal to sleep in the same bed to avoid the nightmare visions recurring. The sudden departure in the morning. Avoiding a goodbye kiss. Simple things that encompassed so many feelings. He was desperate to hold her, but feared that the sense of her would reignite all those feelings of revulsion and those hideous memories of taste and smell and touch and sight that he had experienced.
She knew that, had he not been injured, had he not had to cope with the difficult and traumatic events earlier in the day that the simple act of being kissed by another man would have been forgotten very rapidly. But it was not to be. It had brought back the memories of his imprisonment in the cellar, his subsequent breakdown and the memories of Packard and Buckley's execution. She did not know what to do.
And then in a single moment of sheer clarity and understanding, she did. 'Ed, do you trust me?'
'With my life.' he answered instantly, his eyes fixed on hers, unwavering.
'Close your eyes then.'
He did so, hands still clasped in hers, still trembling with barely concealed anguish.
Rachel leaned forward. Closer to him and closer. Her lips touched his; a butterfly kiss, light, delicate and fleeting. One fraction of a second and gone, leaving a fleeting, tantalizing, delicious memory.
He opened his eyes and looked at her.
'Close your eyes, I said.' she told him firmly and, like an obedient child he did so, his hands beginning to still their trembling.
Her lips met his again, a longer deeper more passionate kiss. She tasted of Rachel. There was no flavour of stale whisky, no aftermath of sickly cannabis, just scented, wonderful woman, tender and soft, caressing and sensuous, loving and trusting. He remembered that first kiss in the hospital, the touch of her lips then, the promise of a future, the thrill of knowing that she wanted to be with him. And he remembered other kisses as well; and other moments and his mind began to relax, to enjoy the firmness of her mouth against his, her hands holding his, her body close to his.
She held the kiss longer, then retreated, unwilling to force him. His eyes remained closed and she bent forward one last time to join her lips with his in a long, intense, satisfying and passionate kiss that wiped away all previous memories.
A kiss that imprinted itself permanently and forever on his mind and erased all thoughts of alcohol and drugs and hurtful mouths forcing themselves on him. He reached for her and held her tightly for a long, long moment and then, smiling, he picked her up and carried her into their bedroom.
Epilogue
Straker walked briskly into the control room.
'You look a damn sight better than yesterday from all accounts. Did you manage to get a decent night's sleep at last?' Freeman quizzed him.
Straker grinned back. 'Yes, and thank you for holding the fort yesterday Alec. I was more tired than I had realised.' The neat line of tiny stitches and butterfly closures on his neck were barely noticeable under the high collar of his cream suit. He looked refreshed, rested and immaculate, as always.
'I've had a message from Henderson about Gavin. He would like to start formal proceedings as soon as possible. Can you get in touch with him later?'
'Ah yes, Gavin. I've been thinking about him.'
Alec Freeman waited.
'I'll go down to the cells now and deal with him immediately. No need to involve Henderson. Can you ask Colonel Philips to meet me there? Thanks Alec.' Straker checked the gun in his holster as if to be sure it was still in place.
The detention area was quiet. Only one person being held; Gavin, uncomfortable and apprehensive inside his small featureless cell. Straker opened the door and gestured to the young man. 'Out. Now. With me.' His gun ready at his side.
Gavin had no other option. He looked round his small room as if it was the last thing he would ever see, as if to imprint the image on his mind for one last moment. Standing, he followed the older man, head bowed in anguish and remorse.
Straker led him into another small room; table and chairs, an interrogation room. Colonel Philips was already there, sitting, baffled by Straker's action. There was no need to question Gavin again. They had all the information they needed. It was now just a case of bringing it to a conclusion.
'Sit down.' Straker ordered. 'You tried to kill me yesterday. In this organisation that counts as treason and the penalty for treason is death. Tell me why you did it. Give me one good reason why I should not shoot you now.'
Gavin was silent.
'I'm waiting.'
'I loved him, and you took him away from me,' he whispered brokenly.
Straker leaned back in his chair. 'I've heard enough.' He recalled Gavin's words as he sat on the sofa, having untied Straker. 'I thought I wanted to kill you, to hurt you as you hurt me when you killed James, but I know that won't help me. I just miss him so very, very much.'
He turned to Rachel. 'Can you get Gavin a cup of coffee please Colonel?' He handed her a small vial of clear fluid.
'Commander?'
'Please, Colonel?' he smiled at her and nodded.
'May I speak to you outside sir,' she asked standing up and moving towards the door. He followed her out of the room, closing the door behind him. She tilted her head. 'Sir?'
'Look Rachel,' he spoke to her quietly. 'I've decided to give him the amnesia drug. He's lost everything that mattered to him, and I feel sorry from him, desperately sorry in fact. I don't want to eliminate him, I don't want revenge. I would be quite happy if he simply forgets everything about me, about Packard and SHADO. Let's give him a chance at some happiness. Let's give him a chance to find the person of his dreams, as I have.' He smiled at her with understanding and sympathy.
He kissed her gently before they went back in to Gavin.
Copyright LtCdr February 2010
Again, this was an early attempt, and not very well-written. But on the whole I liked the overall idea. I could re-write it, but I have decided not to. It can stand a it is; an amateur effort to write about my favourite character and tv series.
