Chapter 11
~*~*~*~
Red lights, grey morning
You stumble out of a hole in the ground
A vampire or a victim
It depends on who's around
~ Stay (Faraway, So Close) by U2
~*~*~*~
The moment Kim's eyelids fluttered open, she instantly regretted it. The morning light assaulted her vision, sending white sharp pain behind her eyeballs and directly to her brain. Squinting, she spotted the cause resting on the nightstand: an empty wine bottle. Groaning, she clenched her eyes shut and pulled the pillow around her head squeezing it tight, hoping the pressure and darkness would ease the throbbing headache of a hangover away.
Despite her tiny frame, she generally held her liquor very well – able to drink most men twice her size under the table. But after a few months at Danbury Women's Prison, her tolerance dropped dramatically. While she was incarcerated, the only liquor available came with a price she wasn't willing to pay – no matter how much Patty tried to tempt her with offers of peach Schnapps.
Licking her lips, Kim was also reminded that hangovers were usually accompanied by fuzzy tongue. Tasting something foul in her mouth, she pulled the pillow off her head and sat up – another move she regretted. The world around her was off kilter. Once she was able to steady herself, she shrugged free of the sheets and blankets and made her way to the bathroom on shaky legs.
Stepping into the bathroom, she ran a hand through her hair, pushing it away from her face. She moved in front of the sink and caught a glimpse of herself in the mirror, wincing at her peaked skin and puffy pink eyes. Both evidence of a late night drowning her sorrows in wine. Quickly looking away, she grabbed a hair tie and pulled her hair back into a loose ponytail before washing her face and brushing her teeth. When she was done, she grabbed the water bottle she had left on the counter from her workout the day before and filled it up with cold water. After taking a long drink, she re-filled it and headed back into the bedroom.
Feeling slightly more human, she padded her way to the window and pulled the curtains open to find a light scattering of snow dusting the backyard. Snow was still falling softly and slowly, small, light snowflakes dropping down from the sky. Kim scanned the backyard, a false sense of contentment filling her chest when her eyes landed on the house behind them. She saw a curtain drawn back before dropping closed. She was tempted to wave at whatever agent was observing but decided against it. Stepping back, she turned and crawled back into bed, cradling the water bottle close to her for easy access.
She sunk back into the mattress and through the slit of the curtains watched the snow falling steadily outside. She unscrewed the cap and took another long drink of water; already feeling the re-hydration was helping ebb the headache away. She knew a pain reliever would help her even more, but her friendly FBI agents in charged of moving her in didn't think to stock the medicine cabinet. If she really was desperate, she could ask Martin, but after the fight they'd had she'd just as soon suffer through the pain. [Thanks! Great line and good catch.]
Shifting under the covers, she relished the quiet of the house. She had probably missed this most of all. When she was in prison, every moment of her time was structured and planned, monitored by the guards and her cellmates. She missed being able to just relax somewhere comfortable and familiar, completely alone. Someplace like home.
Sinking deeper into the bed, she rolled onto her side and found herself staring out the window to the falling snow. When she had been approached by FBI to help with the sting, she didn't want to cross Jimmy – she wasn't lying when she told Martin that he scared her – but she hadn't wanted to stay in prison either. Prison was scarier. Her entire life engulfed into a routine that controlled all parts of her life. She knew that she had been lucky to serve in a federal prison versus a state penitentiary, but prison was still prison.
So, when she was offered a way out, a way to reclaim her life, she grabbed it with both hands. She'd agreed to their terms and would do whatever it took to secure her freedom. Of course, at the time, Delmar had assured her that Martin wouldn't be involved in the case.
And yet, here he was pretending to be her husband.
It was so hard for her to see him, so close and yet so incredibly far. It tore at her to see him looking at her so coldly. Not that she could blame him. She knew that this was a hell of her own design and the blame lay squarely on her own shoulders. She wished she were able to talk to him, to get him to understand, to forgive. But he built up walls all around him, sealing her off. She couldn't help but laugh bitterly as she realized that working this assignment was just trading one form of prison for another.
As if on cue, she heard a door slowly creak open and her entire body went rigid with tension. She listened at the soft pratfall of footsteps walking down the hall before growing quieter as they disappeared down the stairs. She knew that he was trying to be really quiet. She didn't think it was so much that he was being nice so she could sleep in but rather, he didn't want to wake her so he could avoid her.
Her ears tried harder to seek out any noise he did make to try and guess what he was doing. Of course, as a result, the silence had been so oppressing that whenever he did make some noise, it rang out shattering the quiet. Which each sound, the more obvious it was that he was trying to not be noticed and the easier it became to guess what he was doing. With each opening of a cabinet door, clinking of a glass, clatter of plates, or opening or closing of a door it became easier for her to imagine him moving around the kitchen, making coffee and looking for something to eat. A smile tugged at her lips as she remembered how Martin looked in the early morning, his hair all curly and matted and his big blue eyes sparking towards wakefulness.
The phone rang downstairs and Martin quickly answered after one ring. She could hear Martin's murmuring voice but wasn't able to decipher what was being said.
Suddenly she heard footsteps heading quickly up the stairs and down the hall, stopping just outside her door. Her throat went dry and her stomach lurched as she waited with bated breath to hear what happened next when there was a soft rapping on her door.
"Kim?" Martin's voice quietly asked.
Unable to get out of bed to open the door and face him, she simply turned her head in the general direction of the door and answered, "Yeah?" She hated how shaky and raspy her voice sounded. "What is it?"
He was quiet a beat before replying, "I have to go…" he paused and finished, "run some errands. I'll be back in a few hours."
Closing her eyes to the fact that once again Martin was doing whatever he could to flee from being alone in the house with her, she said, "Okay."
Martin didn't reply, but she knew that he was still standing outside her door. She scooted up further in the bed, glancing at the closed door when she heard Martin's voice announce, "I'll see you later."
She swallowed and started to reply when she heard his footsteps hurrying down the steps, eventually followed by the sound of the garage door opening and closing and the car driving away.
Kim sighed heavily and rolled back over.
She lay there awhile before deciding take advantage of favorite luxury she'd missed while in prison – being able to take a long, hot bath.
She took another drink of water as she walked into the bathroom. Taking a seat on the edge of the Jacuzzi tub, she reached over and turned the lever handles on the water faucet. As water poured out, she took another drink of water and waited until the tub was filled half-way before stripping off her clothes and sliding inside.
The hot water took some adjustment at first but within seconds her body settled against the heat and she soon found the steam billowing around soothing. She sunk into the deep tub and closed her eyes, savoring the relaxation. The water continued to fill up around her and as soon as she was covered to her shoulders she opened her eyes and using her foot, toed the levers to a closed position.
Rolling the arch of her foot on the faucet, she studied her red toenails as an all too recent memory washed over her…
~*~
Kim adjusted the pillow behind her head, propping her up. Pulling the sheet up so it covered her chest, she smiled over at Martin and said, "Mmm… that feels amazing."
Leaning against the headboard opposite of her, his lower half tangled up in the sheets, he smiled back. He was holding one of Kim's feet in his hands as he gently massaged it. "I aim to please."
Relaxing into the bed, she practically purred with contentment as he worked his agile digits into the pad of her foot. "Where did you learn to do this?"
"My aunt," he softly replied, his gaze lowered and fixed on what he was doing.
"Is she a massage therapist?" she asked, rubbing her now free foot along Martin's bare thigh.
"A nurse," he replied with a slow shake of his head as he lowered her foot and switched to the other one. "But she firmly believed in holistic healing as well; always advocating eating right, exercise, etc. She thought that mental health was key to physical health, and doing simple preventative things like getting a massage was helpful."
She put her clasped hands behind her head and grinned. "Well, I'm going to have to send her a thank you card."
Not looking up, he softly said, "She, uh, she died a few years ago."
Instantly sobered by this confession, her face went soft as she said, "I'm sorry."
He glanced up at her and shrugged. Still concentrating on her feet, he took a deep breath and said, "But I still remember all she taught me. For example," he pressed his thumbs into the center of her foot, "this is the pressure point for your liver." His thumbs drifted to the right, "and this is for your stomach. I figure with the way you eat…"
She giggled. "So says the man who eats twice as much as I do." He laughed and moved his focus to massage the middle of her foot. Enjoying the feeling of his hands on her feet, she asked, "And what's that spot for?"
His gaze drifted upward. "Your heart."
Seeing him look at her that way made her breath catch and they shared a long lingering look. As exhilarating as it felt to see his blue eyes watching her so hopefully, it was instantly extinguished by a rush of fear that the person he was hopeful about was built on an illusion – one carefully crafted by her own lies.
So swallowing her fears, she planted a smile on her face and wiggled her toes. "What else?"
Clearing his throat and taking her not so subtle cue to return to the levity from earlier, he moved his fingers up a bit and said, "Um, this is for your spleen, pancreas, lung, and…" he increased the pressure as he moved his fingertips in a circular motion, "your breast."
"Oooo…" she purred before releasing a soft laugh.
Moving his way up her foot, he began massaging the area just below her toes. "This is for your neck and shoulder." Travelling further upward he massaged her big toe and said, "Now, this one is for your brain," he pressed his thumb against the soft skin and amended, "or maybe your eyes? I forget."
She grinned.
He returned his attention to her arch, a studious look on his face. "I think there's supposed to be an area for arousal but," he smiled lamely, "I can't remember where..."
She laughed. "I think the fact that you're doing this is enough to get me aroused." Winking, she gave him a coy smile. "Besides, my spleen and pancreas are getting hot for you..." He laughed and shook his head at her. "This feels so good I think I should return the favor." She reached over to touch his foot, running her index finger along the middle and Martin laughed nervously, abruptly pulling his foot away.
"No, that's alright."
She sat up, smirking like a devil as she accused, "You're ticklish."
"No, no, uh-uh," he stammered in protest, his foot inching further and further away from her reach.
"I think you are." Giggling, she tried to grab his foot. "Come on, laughter is the best medicine," she teased. "Gotta take care of your mental health!" She almost had him when he grabbed her calf, playfully tugging her towards him. "Stop it," she choked out between fits of laughter. "Ah!"
When she was within reach, he grabbed her waist and pulled her towards him. "Get over here," he insisted. Deciding to stop pretending to struggle, she shifted so she was lying on top of him, staring into his eyes. Sliding his hands up her thighs, he said, "Hey, you know, I can think of something else that is good for mental health…"
She moved her face closer, her lips brushing against his as she throatily replied, "Something tells me that," she kissed him softly, murmuring, "it has more to do with body than mind."
He laughed before leaning in and kissing her again.
~*~
Kim felt tears welling in the corner of her eyes so she quickly dipped her entire body into the tub, hoping the bathwater would either wash them away or at the very least, mix with the tears so she could pretend they weren't really there. She held her breath as long as she could, the sound of her heart pumping in her ears. When her lungs started to burn, she emerged. She tilted her head back, slicking her hair away from her face as she inhaled a deep breath.
There was an ache deep her chest, guilt cinching it tighter and tighter around her heart. She wiped water and tears away from her face, trying to steady her breathing and her nerves. She wondered if she would ever have a day again where she wasn't overwhelmed with loss and regret and anger when she thought about Martin. The loss of being with possibly with the one guy in the world who had made her feel special, worthy, and cared about. Regret that she had met him a few years and a lot of bad decisions too late. And anger that not only did she let herself fall for him but that he was too committed to learning the truth and could not be fooled by her lies.
It was all just such a mess and the worst part is she had no one to blame but herself.
She didn't know how long she was there crying – again – over a situation of her own making but when the tears finally ebbed away she caught a glimpse of her hands. The pads of her fingers were pruney; a sure sign that she had spent too much time in the tub. Taking a deep breath, she decided to stop wallowing and get up and get back to doing what she has learned to do best – live a lie.
She stood up and grabbed a towel, wrapping it around herself and got out. As she dried off, she decided that she needed some coffee. After throwing on her favorite Saturday morning attire: socks, loose fit jeans and a navy blue sweater, she headed downstairs.
She entered the kitchen to find Martin unpacking some groceries while chatting on his cell phone. His back was to her and judging by his posture, he hadn't heard come inside. Caught off guard by his presence, she hovered in the doorway, uncertain about what to do.
"...can't believe you're still fixated on this," he said into his cell as he pulled out a carton of orange juice from the bag. "What do you care if they like you?" With his back still to her, he listened to the reply as he pulled open the refrigerator door and put it on the shelf. She smiled to herself, liking seeing him so relaxed – like he used to be around her. "That's a little far-fetched," he continued, using his foot to close the refrigerator, "because I can think of a few at the bureau who don't like you and you don't like them." He returned to the bag and paused, listening to whatever the person he was talking to was saying. He reached into the bag and pulled out a box of cookies. "Let's see, there's Clark Medina, Jason Farrell…" he started laughing as he turned to put the box into a nearby cabinet. "Hey, you were the one who wanted some examples…"
He froze when he spotted her standing in the doorway, their eyes locked as the room filled with tension.
"I just wanted some coffee," she explained as the smile on Martin's face disappeared. He nodded at her slowly so she lowered her head and walked to the cabinet to get a cup. Moving to the coffee maker, she stole a glance in his direction to see him return to the bag and his phone call.
"I'm sorry, I missed that, what did you say?" he said into his cell, the enthusiasm from earlier long gone. "No, it's nothing." Pause and then he glanced at her askance. "Mm-hmm."
Realizing that he was talking about her, she frowned and focused on pouring her coffee.
Behind her, she heard the bag rustle and Martin say, "Yeah, talk to you tomorrow." She heard a button click and the sound of his cell phone being placed on the tiled counter top.
She set the carafe back and reached for the sugar bowl, spooning sugar into the cup she remembered that there wasn't any creamer. She sighed and set the spoon aside, accepting that today she'd be drinking it black when Martin wordlessly set a small carton of half and half on the counter next to her.
Looking up at him, she quietly said, "Thanks."
He didn't say anything but just nodded slowly and returned to the task of unpacking the groceries. The next item he took out was a bottle of aspirin, setting it on the counter well within her view.
Smiling slightly at Martin's almost habitual thoughtfulness, she opened the carton and poured some into the coffee, stirring until it was the perfect shade of creamy brown. Picking up her cup, she took a drink, savoring the taste and pivoted around as Martin placed some cans and jars in the cabinet. Taking another sip, she watched as he went back to the bag and pulled out a bottle of wine, setting it down on the counter. Remembering Martin's words from the night before about not having liquor in the house, she stared at the bottle in disbelief.
"I thought you said…" she began, instantly regretting the accusatory tone in her voice as Martin turned to look at her. Biting her lip, she murmured, "Never mind."
Working his jaw, he jerked his chin in the direction of the wine and explained, "It's for tonight." He started folding the paper bag and put it in a lower cabinet. "I thought we should take something to the party." He stood up and turned to look at her, adding, "You know, like good neighbors would."
"Oh, good idea," she said, giving a small smile as she lifted the cup up to her lips. There was a long moment of awkward silence when she decided to try and apologize. "Listen…"
"About last night…" he said at the same time.
"Sorry." She offered him an apologetic look and gestured for him to speak first. "Go ahead."
"I just wanted to say that what happened last night," he began, fidgeting with his hands before shoving them into his pockets. "I meant what I said: we need to be able to be around each other and not let…" he motioned between them, "our history interfere with the job." She fixed her gaze on him, studying his face to see if he meant it. He ran his eyes over her face, waiting to see if she would voice a response but despite all the thoughts bouncing around in her skull, not one managed to find its way out of her mouth. When no reply was forthcoming, he continued, "Now, I know I was the one who volunteered to do this and swore that I wouldn't let my personal feelings interfere but last night…" He swallowed and she could see his Adam's apple bob. "I crossed that line, but I promise you I won't do it again."
Suddenly, the coffee taste lingering in her mouth went sour so she set the cup on the counter. She closed her eyes and took a deep breath, absorbing his words while trying to find her own.
Exhaling, she looked up at him and quietly asked, "You can turn off all that emotion," she snapped her fingers, "just like that?"
Martin's jaw tensed before his expression went blank. "We both have to do it. This is work. Nothing that happened before matters; the only thing we should be concentrating on is catching Jimmy."
Wrapping her arms around herself, she carefully asked, "What if I still think there's a lot to say?"
"Then I have to insist that you keep it to yourself," he evenly replied, turning his head to look out the kitchen window. Following his gaze, she saw a neighbor walking past the house. A man bundled up in a parka waved at them with one hand while the other clung to a leash tethered to an excited Labrador. Martin waved back and quietly said, "We're only here to do a job and that's it. Nothing else matters."
She glanced at him out of the corner of her eye and doubted it was going to be as easy as that because at this very moment, she decided that if he was really determined to not see her after this was over, she was going to damn well make sure to make this time count. And by the time the job was done, Martin would know just how sorry she was about what had happened and exactly how she felt about him.
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A/N: Gigantic round of thanks to Anmodo for her help and encouragement. Thank you!
And big thanks to those of you are reading! Thanks so much for having a little faith in me.