Chapter Twelve

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Mitchell had refused to take no for an answer and now sat beside her on the faux leather seats in the back of the cab. The driver had even asked if 'this guy' was giving her trouble and had offered to call the police. She hadn't wanted rid of Mitchell that badly and had eventually relented. The journey, although short, had been conducted in an uncomfortable silence.

Amelia called out to the cab driver to stop at the bottom of the dirt track that led to the cabin. She had noticed the external light beside the door of the cabin glowing dimly in the distance, but she knew she hadn't left it on. If there was someone inside, she wasn't going to give away her arrival by turning up outside in a cab.

"I'll walk the rest of the way," she said, before quickly getting out and slamming the door.

"You sure you're gonna be okay, lady?" the driver asked as she handed over a twenty-dollar bill through his window.

"I'll be fine, thanks," Amelia said, giving him her most reassuring smile. The driver shrugged and looked in the rear-view mirror at Mitchell.

"Where to, pal?"

"Just…wait here a minute, okay?" Mitchell replied as he jumped out the other side and followed her a little way.

"I'll be fine, Mitchell," she said, walking more quickly. Mitchell turned back to the cab.

"You can go," he said. The driver didn't need telling twice and was gone in a haze of dirt and dust. There was no moon that night and the road was dark without the headlights from the cab. He couldn't seem Amelia on the track any more. He jogged up the road and glimpsed her at the door, a Browning HP in her hand. He wondered, fleetingly, just how many weapons she had at her disposal before pushing it from his mind. He'd seen the look in her eyes as she'd shot the guy on P four X nine eight two. Cold, emotionless and it disturbed him. She turned and looked at him, her finger to her lips. He wished he had his Zat on him.

The door was ajar and even without lights, she could sense the presence of another person. As she moved further inside, she caught the silhouette of a man, judging by the height and build, moving by the fireplace. With her right hand, she pointed the gun at what she hoped was the figures head, as she scrambled with her left hand for the switch on the lamp.

"Put it away, Hendrik," the voice said as the lamp illuminating the room.

"Adam?" she exclaimed. She slid the gun back into the holster in her waistband and slipped off her jacket, throwing it over the back of a chair. "What the hell are you doing, sitting in the dark?"

He didn't answer, and his attention seemed to have been taken with something…or someone…over her shoulder. She glanced behind her to Mitchell.

"Colonel Cameron Mitchell. We work together. Colonel Mitchell, this is Adam Hines," Amelia introduced.

"We've met," Mitchell said, frostily.

"Indeed, we did. During your recovery from the…now what was it…a crash during a test flight?"

"Yep," Mitchell replied, his hostility undisguised.

"Amelia, Beth sends her regards and wanted you to have this," Adam said, handing a brightly coloured tin to her, deliberately catching her fingers with his own as she took it from him.

Mitchell watch him. Adam's his eyes never left Amelia's face, but she didn't seem to notice the hungry look in Adam's eyes.

"Please thank her for me and tell her that she can come up here for a holiday and we can catch up. I feel dreadful that it's been so long…"

"I've sent her to her mother's place for a while," Adam replied. "We should have dinner, if you're ever at a loose end. It would be good to catch up. It's been a long time."

Mitchell was starting to feel more and more uncomfortable. He grabbed a beer from the refrigerator, opened the sliding doors and stepped out onto the decking and into the cool breeze.

"Well, as you're here, can I get you something to drink?" Amelia asked. She opened the refrigerator and dug to the back of the ice-box.

"I won't disturb you," Adam replied, glancing towards Cameron.

She palmed a small plastic tube and closed the refrigerator door again. "Well, if you're sure. Please tell Beth I'll email her soon and I hope to get over to see you both. I've just been so busy recently," Amelia smiled and walked with him to the door.

"Oh, there's a parcel on the table for you. You know what it is," he whispered. Amelia nodded. They stepped outside, and he led her around the side of the house where his car was parked, concealed from view.

"What is he doing here?" Adam asked, his tone now far from friendly.

"You sent me in there. What was I supposed to do? I tried to pretend I didn't know him but for some reason he wasn't fooled!" she snipped.

"Bringing him here wasn't the smartest move, Hendrik. I agreed to let you use this place because it assured privacy."

He held out his hand and she placed the frozen plastic vial into his palm. He curled his fingers around it.

"Thank you. The Zertans are expecting you to return. They will have another little present for you. And we're still waiting for your report. Sizemore is ready to close down the program on your say so."

"How does he propose to use it if I prove that it's dangerous. Surely they'll just remove it? Seal it over?"

"Not your concern," Adam replied. "Oh, and Mitchell's been digging."

"He doesn't know anything and I've given him no reason to doubt my story," Amelia said.

"He knows things, Hendrik. We've allowed him to get at the truth and you know that because we know what he told you.

"So, the biker was one of yours? Not very subtle," she replied, looking beyond him and out into the forest.

"So was the waitress," Adam smiled. "Is there something going on between you and Mitchell that I should know about?"

"No, Adam, there isn't," she asked.

"You were warned what would happen."

She shook her head. "Don't you ever wish...just wish that you could have a nice quiet life?"

His voice was softer, kinder when he answered. "There are things out there – technology, medicine - that could have saved your father. If we stop then his death will have been for nothing…and I know you don't want that. The military are keeping these things for themselves. They made sure Carter's father was okay but not yours. Hardly seems fair, does it? We'll make sure everyone has access to the best the universe has to offer. We have a duty."

The mention of her father tugged at her heart. "I understand," she replied. "It's just...I don't know."

"You're not changing your mind, are you? You wouldn't back out?" He placed his palm against her cheek.

She shook her head. "I just sometimes wonder what a normal life would have felt like." She smiled weakly. "A life that didn't give me a free pass straight to hell."

His hand shifted to her jaw, holding it tightly. Amelia's body tensed. "What we do…what you do, is more important than a thousand Cameron Mitchell's." Adam replied, with a viciousness to his voice that frightened her but she said nothing.

He released her and stepped away. "If our intelligence is correct then this little deal with the Zertans could save millions of people and save the US government billions of dollars."

"What intelligence? The only people that have been there are either dead or...Munroe? But he was clean when he came in. There was nothing on him. I checked."

Adam simply smiled and climbed into his car. "Oh, and Hendrik, I know what you're planning. I saw the papers. Don't even think about it or your boyfriend there could find himself in a very uncomfortable position!"

She waited until the car turned the corner in the track and returned to the house, straight for the bathroom to remove the tinted moisturiser she wore. Her only concession to make-up that evening.

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Mitchell had heard the car tyres crunch along the rough dirt track away from the house and slipped back inside. He hadn't noticed when they'd arrived in the heat of the situation, but the place looked like it had been ransacked. He could see directly through to the bedroom where all the drawers were open, and clothes were strewn about the room. In the lounge, the scene wasn't much better. On the desk the laptop was open, a picture of a silver tabby cat on the lock screen. Papers littered every available surface. The floor was covered in boxes and he couldn't tell if they were in the process of being packed or unpacked.

Beside the desk, the printer sat with papers it had churned out, still in place. His stomach lurched. He recognised the top piece. He tried to read it but he couldn't see it clearly so he quietly slid it out and scanned the details.

"Damn it," he cursed under his breath. "Not now, Millie."

Amelia had seen him from the bathroom door and watched him as he read. Her irritation at his intrusion softened slightly by his evident distress at the news it contained.

"Is there something in particular that you're looking for or are you just having a general rummage through my personal papers?" she snapped.

Mitchell spun around, the document still in his hand. "It looked like a home invasion."

"No excuse to go through my things."

"Flight details?" His tone was so accusing that it took her by surprise.

She nodded.

"You're leaving?" he asked.

"I will be," she replied as she closed the door.

"I thought…General Landry said that…"

"He told me that Carolyn wasn't planning to come back. He suggested that I apply for a permanent position. I was more than a little surprised to be honest. I thought he saw me as rather a loose cannon."

"You're good at your job, though. He wants the best."

"I respectfully declined."

"Why?" Mitchell frowned.

"This was just an assignment. It was supposed to be short term and that suited me. I'm sure that Kaufmann can step up and make CMO. I'm going back to my house in Washington to collect the rest of my things then…I'll..." she said, her sentence tailing off.

"To England?" He thrust the flight itinerary towards her.

"To begin with."

"To your mother?"

He saw her expression cloud. "No."

"Then where?"

"It's better if you don't know."

"Enigmatic."

She didn't answer.

"Tell Landry you've changed your mind," he demanded.

"No."

"Why?"

"I just…I can't. Now leave it," she snapped.

"I just don't understand you, Millie.

"I asked you not to call me that!"

"You used to like it," he said.

"Yeah, well I used to be a size six too. Times have changed."

"I remember when we used to talk about…"

"The ranch, the cattle, three kids, two dogs. I remember that too, but it was just a stupid game, like a couple of love-sick kids," she barked. It was getting harder and harder to lie to him, though. She would have been more than happy with the ranch and the kids if she could have had them with him but there was no going back. "We haven't seen each other for years, Cam."

"Three years and two months," Mitchell muttered.

She could hardly believe he could be so precise, but she chose to ignore him.

"People change," she said turning away from him. She stared into the bedroom at the suitcases and the clothes that hadn't quite made it in when she had lost her temper and thrown them around the room.

"Not that much," he replied.

"I can't…do this. There are things that...God, I wish I could explain to you," she mumbled. "England is my chance to escape...to move on."

"Seems to me that you've 'moved on' just fine," he replied, the bitter jealousy burning in the pit of his stomach again.

"What the hell is that supposed to mean?" she yelled.

"Davis."

"You're bringing that up again?" Amelia exclaimed. "Well fine! Yes, we've spent time together, went out for dinner a couple of times."

"It's the talk of the base!" Mitchell retorted.

"Then working on a top-secret government project in which you travel to different planets across space must be far duller than the mission reports would suggest," she cried, rubbing her hand across her forehead. "It's just dinner and it's none of your business. I hadn't realised you'd taken such a close interest," she snapped, her voice dripping derision.

Mitchell said nothing.

"If you really must know, I liked him. Actually, I really liked him. I enjoyed his company. He was easy to talk to. He didn't judge me, and he made me laugh," she continued, hearing the hurtful way she was speaking but unable to stop herself. All Mitchell had noticed was the past tense.

"But you…you're like a shadow looming over everything I do."

"You're pissed at me?" Mitchell yelled.

She rubbed her forehead with the fingertips "I wasn't blaming you," Amelia shouted as her temper finally snapped. "You're so bloody arrogant! Not everything is about you, you know. This is about me. The sooner I get away from here, the better. I should never have stayed when I realised…" She pressed her lips together to prevent them from betraying her any further and bitterly regretted what she had already confessed.

"And what about Davis, or were you planning to leave him a letter?"

His words were a stinging verbal slap across the face.

"That's a cheap shot." She snatched the paper out of his hand and threw it back on the desk then stood almost toe to toe with him, her eyes narrowed as she glared at him. "And if you must know, I am far too fond of Paul to let him get mixed up in my mess of a life." She meant every word. She wanted to protect Davis, despite her fears about him. It was already too late for Mitchell and she regretted that with every part of her, but she still had to keep him at arm's length. "We're done. Get out!" She held his gaze for a moment then turned on her heels and walked into the kitchen. Just out of sight, she leaned her back against the wall, trying to control the trembling that threatened to take her legs out from under her.

Mitchell's heavy footfall thudded on the wooden floor as he stomped to the door. He pulled it open and stared out into the blackness.

Amelia closed her eyes and breathed a sigh of relief when she heard the door slam shut. She hoped there was still some wine left in the refrigerator and grabbed a glass from the cupboard. She grasped the handle on the refrigerator door, pulling it open with more force than was necessary. "Shit!" she muttered, finding it empty. She pushed the door closed again and jumped back. Mitchell was stood in the doorway.

"No!" he said, simply as he took a few paces towards her. She had nowhere to go. Her backside was pressed against the cupboard and he leaned in, placing his hands on the counter-top, trapping her between his arms. His face was so close; his breath stirred the loose strands of hair against her face.

"No?" she asked with a tremor in her voice. "No, what?"

"No, we're not done and no, I'm not going to leave just because you're afraid, so let's just get this over with and see what happens from there," he said in a low voice that made her skin tingle.

"What are you talking about?"

A flicker of a frown played across Amelia's face, but he didn't answer her. He placed his hand on the nape of her neck, pulling her to him until his lips met hers with an insistence that took her breath away. For a second, she resisted but she couldn't think straight or perhaps didn't want to. He tangled his fingers in her hair and slipped his arm around her waist, pulling her to him. She could feel his muscles tighten as she slid her hands over his chest to his shoulders. The heat of his body penetrated the black t-shirt she had tried so hard not to notice clung to his well-sculpted torso. She felt herself relax, enjoying the familiar feeling of his hands on her body again; three years and two months washed away for a moment.

He murmured her name as he broke the kiss, his fingers flicking open the top two buttons of her shirt and brushing it from her shoulder. His lips grazed the soft flesh of her neck and she pulled his t-shirt free of his jeans, slipping her hands beneath.

"Cam, wait…" she whispered. "We can't do this. You said it yourself. It was a long time ago. We've both changed. We can't just resurrect an old relationship."

He ran the tips of his fingers across her cheek, gently brushing her lips with the pad of his thumb. "Then let's start again." he whispered.