The Return of Matt Houston – 7 / Apart – 10
They came up for air and stood… just staring at each other, re-familiarizing themselves with the changes three decades had brought.
Her face bore only minor changes from the passing of years. There were a few wrinkles around her eyes, eyes that somehow seemed smaller yet still vibrant. There was some sagging skin on her formerly firm neck. She wore her dark wavy lock only slightly shorter than he remembered with the bangs swept off to the side. Overall she looked pretty much the same. If only he had fared as well in that department. He could only imagine what she was thinking about him.
He stopped, reminding himself that he had a few questions to ask. Where have you been? Why didn't you ever contact me? Why did you leave me a Dear John note and instead of talking to me? Why did you resort to such drastic measures to get away from me?
But it didn't seem she was going to give him the chance.
She placed her hand on his cheek and kissed him again. Then she wrapped her hands around his torso and gave him a hearty squeeze.
"Ouch!" he remarked stridently, unusual for a man with a high threshold of pain. She immediately pulled away.
He grimaced and put a hand to his side where it hurt. She narrowed her eyes, looking at him with concern, then focused on where the pain seemed to be originating from.
She motioned for him to lift his shirt.
He rolled his eyes thinking this is just great. She wouldn't have to ask what he's been doing the last thirty years, she'd see the evidence in his spare tire region.
He took a deep breath and lifted the corner of his shirt, bracing for her reaction in the form of a cunning wisecrack or at least an expression of shock. She didn't even flinch.
"Did I do that?" she asked tenderly as she touched the area around his wound.
He nodded.
"Oh no! I'm so sorry!"
He felt bad for making her feel bad and was quick to correct himself.
"The bullet that struck me yesterday did most of the damage. Only the bruises are yours."
The bruises to his heart were hers too.
"Why don't you have a seat … over there," she instructed, pointing to the sofa.
While he moved to the sofa, she headed to the freezer to fill up an ice bag. She returned and sat down next to him, placing the ice bag as gently as she could on the area of concern. It seemed like something she had done a time or two before.
He offered up a polite smile as he braced from the sting of the ice. He knew the first few minutes were the worst. In no time the skin would be numb, the ice wouldn't feel so bad and the swelling would recede. Of course, having the love of his life apply it made it hurt a lot less.
While she held the ice bag in place, he put his hand in her hair, stroking her face along her hairline.
"God, you're a sight for sore eyes."
She blushed.
He was hoping his comment would spawn a remark, or conversation… something. It could be a witty comeback, a comment about the weather, the stock market, the Kardashians. Anything's better than silence.
He aimed to keep the lines of communication open – even if it was one-sided.
"As you can see I didn't do as good as you in the looks department. I was a mess after you left, turned to some really bad habits, and you know, well … domino effect."
But that comment hit a nerve with her and she looked downward, away from his stare.
He placed his fingers under her chin and lifted it. When she looked back up at him, there was moisture in her eyes - eyes displaying the story of a complicated yet compassionate woman who had a lot to tell. When she would tell it, he didn't know. Knowing her well, she had her reasons … and they probably were good reasons. What he did know is that his feelings, based on some very old memories, were stronger than ever.
She leaned closer and kissed his lips … just brushing them gently. When she pulled back she studied him a second, but it was only a second as their mouths came crashing together in a passionate celebration.
His lips traveled to her cheek, then to her ear before venturing towards the nape of her neck.
She pleasantly took it all in, then whispered her next order, "Make love to me", like a Siren calling her prey. He was a little surprised, a little perplexed by it all. She certainly was a woman of few words. Didn't she want to at least warm-up with some small talk? How about an apology for putting him through hell for the last thirty years? And, by the way, what's this business of working for Whitewood?
Her lips returned to his lips and that's when he realized all that silly talking would just waste time.
When he awoke the next morning he took a moment getting his bearings. Where was he? A hotel room? An apartment? What day was it? Monday? Tuesday?
And then he remembered.
He smiled, the memories of the night filling his mind with good thoughts. It was a night he'd never forget.
His C.J. was alive and he got celebrate that earth-shattering fact by making love to her in a way he had dreamed about for years! The promises he made to himself - that if he ever found her alive, he wouldn't waste a minute of it - were put into motion. All those years of wondering, wanting her were finally gone. With the way she reciprocated, it was obvious she didn't care he wasn't the most handsome man anymore and wanted him for who he was. Damn, he was stupid for letting her go.
But wait, hold everything: was it real? Had the night he hoped for actually happened or was it all a dream?
He looked over at the empty space on the bed and touched the sheet. He could smell the slight trace of perfume. There was a strand or two of long, dark wavy brown hairs on the sheets. He knew for sure it wasn't a dream now, but where was she? He would have liked to have followed up such a great night with morning pillow talk, cuddling, an encore.
"C.J.?" he called out as he climbed out of bed, grabbed his shorts and pulled them on. "C.J.?"
He walked around searching for any sign of her when he found a hand-written note on the refrigerator door. His gut dropped. Oh no. Another note.
"Sorry to leave you so early, but duty calls. Don't worry about me. I'll be back before you know it. Stay low and take care of that wound. Love, C.J."
"Okay …" he commented out loud. After thirty years it sure was a short reunion. But at least he knew she was still alive and had the same feelings for him as he – she made it abundantly clear last night.
He thought about calling his cousin and few other people and saying I told you so. He had longed for the day to happily rub it in their faces that he wasn't wrong about his C.J. That day was here but the circumstances dictated that he shouldn't call anyone at all. As far as he knew, that building they were in was blown to smithereens… and he was assumed dead. Even though he didn't understand everything that was going on and how all the pieces fit together, he knew he had to help C.J. any way he could. He trusted her completely.
But, wait, on second thought, he should call Will, just in case word got to California that renowned detective Matt Houston died in an explosion in New York. Being a former prisoner-of-war, Will didn't need to be put through that kind of duress.
He returned to the bedroom, searching for his phone by lifting up various pieces of clothing that had landed on interesting places. A sock on top of the TV, a shirt draped over a plant, a pair of pants partially laying underneath the bed. Matt smiled to himself as he fetched the phone from the pocket of his pants. If anyone didn't believe he got lucky last night, all they'd have to do is see the evidence.
"Hey Cuz. How's it going?" he asked in a chipper mood as soon as Will answered. Will was immediately suspicious.
"It's going fine," he said with a groggy, reserved tone. "Where are you calling from?"
"I can't tell you that."
"Oh ... okay. Is everything all right?"
"Never better."
Then why was Matt calling him at such an odd hour?
"Really? Are you sure?"
"Yep!"
Will was dumbfounded.
"Okay, then why are you calling me at 4:30 in the morning?"
Oops, Matt thought. He was so high he forgot about the time difference.
"Oh, sorry Will. I just wanted to call you before the news hit L.A. If you hear anything about me being killed in an explosion, it's not true."
Will held the phone away from his ear and stared at it.
"Okay …. I'm almost afraid to ask what kind of trouble you've gotten into now, but the fact you sound better than you have in a years makes me think you're just fine."
Matt beamed. He wasn't just fine. He was on cloud nine!
Suddenly his phone call was interrupted with another.
"Ah, Will. Gotta go. Houston …" he answered, not giving Will a chance to say goodbye.
"Houston!" Sgt. Benson exclaimed on the other end.
"Oh hi," he said with disappointment, hoping it was C.J.
"Is that really you?"
"None other."
"We thought you were dead!"
"Yeah, well, can we keep it that way for awhile?" he asked as he glanced at the minute hand on his watch. He didn't want to give her much information, especially in regards to his location. If his call was being traced, he had only seconds to talk … at least that's how it was done in the old days.
"Okay, if that's what you want. Can you at least tell me something?"
"Sure."
"Where have you been? And what happened to Whitewood and his people?"
"Well, where I've been is not important. As far as Whitewood, I'm not sure. Like us, I think they got out before the explosion."
"Us?"
"Yeah, me and C.J."
He beamed when he said her name. It was obvious how happy he was – even over the phone.
"C.J.? You were with her? Where is she?"
"I don't know."
Olivia was suspicious. Why wasn't he upset about it?'
"You don't know? Well, when's the last time you saw her?"
He stalled for a moment, trying to find the words to convince her yet be tactful.
"Last night," he answered simply. "In bed."
Olivia felt embarrassed.
"Oh. Sorry."
"It's okay."
"So what's your plan?"
"No plan right now. She said she'd be home soon and for me to stay low."
"Wow. No other information?"
"No ..."
"You trust her that much … even after all these years?"
"I trust C.J. more than anyone. What are you getting at?"
"Nothing," she quickly dismissed. "She probably has a good reason for being so secretive. She asked us to stay out of it, so I guess we just have to be patient."