Heather sat on her couch in her pajamas, mind reeling.
She felt…almost bipolar, veering from giddy excitement at the prospect of being together to despair that he might decide she was safer without him. She tried to keep in mind his own reluctance to walk away, but the longer the wait, the louder the doubtful voice in her head got. She jumped when she heard a knock on the door, and had to force herself to answer the door in something approaching a normal voice. Her heart leapt into her throat when she saw it was him, and she scrambled to undo the locks.
"Heather." His voice was disapproving, and her heart sank. "You know you're supposed to wait for the passphrase before you open the door."
"Sorry." She mumbled. He saw her face and took pity on her.
"I suppose I'll forgive you for it. This time." He gestured for her to sit down with him. Just like he'd done a thousand times at work. That voice in her head was screaming. She stayed on her feet, unable to keep still. He shrugged.
"Ok. So I've thought about it. I still don't want to put you in danger. You're right that we can't just stop visiting. And that staying 'just friends' would be painfully unlikely. So, in my mind, that really only leaves one option." Heather was bobbing up and down on her toes at this point.
"…and that would be?"
"We keep visiting each other. And just sort of see where things go. No reason for anyone to think that anything has changed. They'll just continue to think we're scrabble addicts."
Heather launched herself at him and gave him a crushing hug. He chuckled into her hair and hugged her back.
"Careful, you'll bruise the apple."
"Don't care."
They stood there for a good thirty seconds before Edward spoke.
"You know, this is more fun without body armor on."
Heather looked at him, evaluating whether letting go of him would be worth it. She eventually relented, letting him take it off. He ended by taking out the now bruised apple with exaggerated flourish. She ignored the gesture, latching back on.
"ooof…I'm thinking it might have been safer to keep it on." He steered her over to the couch, thinking she might release the death grip if they were sitting down. She did ease up a bit, but she didn't let go.
"I hadn't pegged you for the clingy type."
"Well, it's your fault."
"How's that?"
"You kept me here all day in suspense. Now I'm not letting you go."
"I guess I can live with that." He said, pressing a kiss into her hair, trying to memorize the smell of it, the smell of her, the feel of her in his arms. Heather was doing much the same, imprinting this moment into her mind so she would never ever forget it.
They couldn't have said how long this 'moment' actually lasted, but when a burst of static interrupted them, they both jumped.
"Major Beck, come in please." He sighed as he tried to reach for his radio; but her grip tightened, as if she could grab that moment back and not let it go.
"Heather, I have to get this."
"No." she said, sounding like a petulant child.
"Heather." He said firmly. "I'm sorry. But I can't ignore this, you know that." He tilted her face up to his so that she looked him in the eyes. She reluctantly conceded, letting him reach his radio, but not letting him go.
"I'm here. Go ahead."
"You asked to be notified when the courier arrived."
"Right. I'll be there in a few." He let go of the radio and put his arm back around her. "Heather, I – "
"I know."
He gave her a final squeeze before standing up.
"Thank you." He whispered, knowing full well how hard that was for her – he was feeling it himself. He felt her eyes on him as he put his gear back on, could feel the effort it took to keep from dragging him back. He felt the pull, too, as she walked him to the door. They stared at each other.
"Be careful."
"Eat that apple."
"Come back"
"I will."
His hand had found its way up to her cheek of its own accord. He kissed her cheek (he didn't know if he could get out of the door if she could kiss him back) and tore himself away, Heather holding onto his hand until he closed the door behind him.