Lee dumped Shady in the middle of their bed uncharacteristically. It wobbled under the abrupt and disproportioned addition of weight. He then towered over her with his hands on his hips, brow cocked. She tipped her head back, looking up into hazel eyes that were harder than Boots had ever experienced, feeling her stomach slightly drop a few stories through the bed and onto the floor. At least, that's what it seemed like under his pensively intense stare.
He huffed. "Shady Powell," his voice was low and menacing; the tone he used when dealing with an adversary rather than his lover. It made her shiver, and her throat constricted. "You have tested the limits of my endurance." He took a breath trying to steady his anger, then pinched the bridge of his nose. "I am going back out to get the first aid kit. And, when I return, I expect to find you in nothing but your underwear so I can treat that leg." He pointed towards her hip, cutting her a sideways glance that was colder than ice. "This, whatever it is," he motioned at her in disgust, "Ends now." The last two words were stated with definitive emphasis.
She probably would have come off the bed, but he'd had her blocked where she couldn't, knees up against hers. And, Shady wasn't a complete idiot despite how the last several hours may have made her look. So, she didn't answer, and he took her silence as acquiescence. He turned on his heel and left the bedroom in a tromping pillar of ridiculously composed frustration.
Powell sighed. Her head hurt. Her leg hurt. Her arm hurt. But, worst of all, her heart hurt. At the risk of making him angrier, Shady couldn't comply with his orders. She sat up, draped her injured leg over the side of the bed, and fell deeper into the mattress. Exhaling a sharp breath, she closed her eyes and covered her face with her hands, letting out a pent-up sigh of frustration. She needed to know why he was so furious.
She just hoped she lived through it.
Pinkie stood uncertainly in the center of the room, staring at him more like a frustrated wife than a disgruntled co-worker. She crossed her arms in front of her, then scratched at her head. Gunner had taken a place on the cot and was staring at her, patiently waiting to hear what she had to say, leaning back against the wall with hands laced behind his head.
She looked down, trying to decide the best way to proceed; bravado dropping like a curtain. On a sigh, she finally looked up to him with her eyes and said, "I owe you an apology."
"For what," Jensen's voice was dry and gravelly, expectant as he watched her across the room.
"I, uh, I…overreacted to you in the warehouse." She flicked a quick look up to him, "And I'm not proud of that. Deep down, I know you'd never," she shook her head to emphasize her comment, rubbing either side of her temples, "…never hit me or anything in your anger." It seemed difficult to say, given the sigh that escaped her lips, and the fact she'd had to close her eyes to say it at all.
"You couldn't have proven it by the look on your face," was his simple answer. It was simple enough to tighten the tension in the room, and drive a stake of grief through her chest.
Lieu shook her head, letting her hands fall from her temples. "I know, Gunner." She sighed again, "But, at first, your…your face was so angry." Then, he saw it from across the room, despite the darkness: her eyes filled with fearful remembrance, and she took half a step back. "It reminded me of…" she closed her eyes and shook her head, finally finishing with a quiet, "…it doesn't matter." Absentmindedly, she rubbed her fingertips across her jaw, remembering a past injury.
He stood slowly, pushing himself off the cot, and sauntered close to her – as close to her as he could get without putting a finger on her. She backpedaled half a step, her breath catching in her throat in a hardly audible breath. Her eyes widened ever so slightly as she considered him before her, and Jensen damned to hell whoever had made her so afraid of intimate space.
He leaned down, "It was anger. Anger that you could be so reckless and uncaring about how this could have turned out." He ran a frustrated hand through his hair, "You have no idea what it was like to walk into that warehouse and see all those bodies." He looked away from her, but she reached out to him, and he stepped back, avoiding the contact as he continued, "Moving them around to make sure none of them had red hair." He eyed her again. "Afraid one of them was going to be you. And it was hell."
There was a breathy gasp, but this time, she moved towards him in two graceful strides and grabbed his arms, pulling him close, the distance between them suddenly bridged. He couldn't help but notice how her body fit perfectly against his in all the right ways. The thought was followed quickly with the idea that she smelled like sweat and dirt and it was better than any expensive perfume. His head was swimming. "Gunner. I'm…I'm so sorry. I never…I never thought about that." Her tone was quiet and pleading. "I've…I've never had someone worry about me like that." At his surprised expression, she continued, "Never a man, anyway."
He looked down into her green eyes that were beginning to brim with tears now, and stood in silence with her for a moment. Then, he carefully lifted his hand and brushed aside her hair, her bottom lip curling inward in careful contemplation of his actions. She relaxed slightly, and tilted her head into his palm, silently affirming his actions.
He sighed. "I need to know that you're okay," he started quietly, "That you aren't hiding an injury like Shady did." He brushed a thumb over her cheek, now, "I need it for my own peace of mind." He rubbed her arm gently.
"How?" She quizzed, brow furrowing slightly.
"Strip," Jensen stated plainly.
Well, Pinkie didn't know what she'd expected him to say, but that wasn't it. Surprised, her brows rocketed upward, and she blinked at him a few times. She took in the statement, then cocked a single, speculative brow, "And how does that help our situation?" She questioned him.
"I want to see for myself that you're not hurt," was the logical response. He was entirely serious.
Pinkie smiled then, and took a step away from him. The redhead knelt down and untied her boots, carefully, kicking out of them and pulling off her socks by stepping on the toe of one and then the other. Barefoot, she then unbuttoned her cargo pants, shoving them down to puddle at her feet. Finally, grabbing the hem of her t-shirt and pulling it over her head, she let it drop away from her hands as if it had never existed. She now stood, in nothing but a grey sports bra and matching boy cut undies, before him.
And, she didn't know why but it seemed like the most natural thing in the world as his eyes roamed her body. She'd never had the courage to expose herself to Sly, or anyone else, like she did now. Never had the courage, or the trust. But now, in the shadow of his huge and massively interesting frame, she felt entirely safe and…protected. Which was something she hadn't felt from a man in a good amount of years.
With his index finger pointed straight up, he made a circle, indicating she should spin around. She did slowly, feeling his eyes move up and down her body in a more lascivious way than an examining one. When she finally made it back around, it was to see a small smile on his face – one not inappropriate, but instead satisfied.
"Thank you, Pinkie." His slight lilt was adorable, and it melted her ever so slightly. She flushed bright red.
"So, what now?" She asked, and another slow smile curved her lips as she crossed her arms at her middle. She gave him an expectant look.
"Well," he spoke slowly, "Now, I leave."
"What?" She all but shouted, mouth falling open. Her arms dropped to her sides, and she frowned at him, the statement knocking the wind out of her only enough to catch her off guard.
He closed the distance, fingers trailing down her arms gently. Goosebumps suddenly prickled on her skin, and she felt the muscles in her knees quiver ever so slightly. Gunner then moved a light hand to her exposed hip, his fingertips brushing her skin, but then pulled it away suddenly. He once again leaned close and spoke seriously into her ear, "Lieu, I care about you very much," Gunner swallowed quietly, "But…"
"But?" Lieu cut in, lifting her hand to his arm carefully.
"But, I can't," Jensen looked away quickly, "I can't do this with you. I can't always be worried that the next body I turn over will be yours." He shook his head. "It will kill me." He pinched his eyes shut, the corners of them wrinkling slightly.
"Oh. I," she paused, letting her hand fall away from his arm. "I see." Her tone was quiet, almost a breath, and she looked up at him, rubbing her forearm carefully in an attempt to keep herself busy. Because, if she didn't, she was certain he would notice that her hands were shaking.
He sighed. "I have had issues in the past, Lieu. I have never hidden that from you. I…I just don't think I'm strong enough to have this kind of relationship," Gunner tried to explain now, his eyes pleading with her to understand. She stepped away from him quickly, as if he'd suddenly turned into a pillar of fire, nodding carefully. Tears threatened her eyes again. "I can't handle the idea of –"
"No," she looked away, interrupting him; swallowing the large lump in her throat while batting her lashes furiously to rid herself of the threatening tears. "I get it. It's like Magnolia tried to tell me. We're just not meant for these kinds of things. I understand." Her tone was curt and collected, informative instead of tender. Strangely composed, but also quiet and…mouse-like. Everything that she wasn't.
He reached for her, and then pulled her slowly into a hug. She was still, not moving in his embrace, staring straight ahead for a few moments, before she pinched her eyes shut. While Pinkie didn't try to get away, she didn't return his hug, either, instead begging the tears collecting in her eyes to stay put and not fall down her face and onto his shoulder. He nuzzled his nose in her head of hair, and inhaled a deep breath of her.
And then, Gunner released her to walk out of the room, pulling the door closed slowly behind him.
Steele stood in the middle of Barney's room, arms crossed, legs a shoulder's width apart, looking more like a CO than a subordinate. One brow was speculatively cocked at him as he circled her like a predator observing its prey. She sighed as Ross moved to the cot and dropped down on the edge solidly, her looking less than enthused, and tired, as he did so.
She looked down her nose at him, "Well? You called this meeting," she insisted, "Get talking. I'm tired." Steele pinched the bridge of her nose, indicating a headache – which truly would not have surprised him – and waved with the other hand as if ushering in the lecture.
He looked up at her and gave her a snarky grin, "I really don't know whether to shake your hand or drag you across my knee," he said authoritatively, "Because you deserve both."
"Excuse me?" She shot to attention at that one. Her eyebrows perked to the top of her head, and she blinked at him a few times to process the statement. Nothing came to her, except a new ferocity to her headache.
Barney leaned back on the bed, resting on one elbow, doing his best not to look so entirely relieved that she was not in his imagination. "The mission was a success. In spite of your little extra-curricular activity," he snorted, "It worked. You're alive, and so is everyone else."
Magnolia corrected him, cocking a hip. "Because of my little extra-curricular activity, my team is whole and reunited, I'll have you know." She pursed her lips into a thin line.
"And a part of mine are at each other's throats," he gave her a narrowed glance across the room, meeting her challenging look.
"Yeah," she looked over her shoulder towards the door. She jerked a thumb in that general direction and gestured with her head, "Will Shady be alright, or should I call in the Marines?" Her tone was serious, but it left him chuckling slightly at the irony. "Because I know Lieu can take of herself, so I'm not worried about her. But Shady's at a disadvantage with a bum leg and a very pissed off knifeman on her hands." At his look, she smirked at him. "And I can hold my own just fine, in case you were wondering."
He shrugged a shoulder and sighed. "Yeah, I know that." He continued, "Powell will be fine, but, it's going to hurt. And, she's got it coming. For more reasons than you know." Barney sat back up on the cot, "For right now, however, I need to know that your only injuries are the ones I see." He gestured by raising his hands and wiggling his own fingers. "None broken?"
"They're all well and good," she responded, raising her own hands. She mirrored his actions. "I've been hurt worse." She then dropped her hands, and watched him cross to her empty gear, rustle around a few moments, and finally grab a first aid kit from it. He crossed the room again, back to the cot. "I remember someone telling me once that worrying will give you a stroke," she chirped sarcastically at him.
"I don't really care," Barney responded as he filtered through the kit. Jerking a thumb at his chest, he continued, "I call the shots here, remember?" Her facial expression told him what she thought of that comment, and probably more. He ignored it, adding, "Now, the way Christmas does this with Shady? He'll strip her down. Sometimes with her help. Sometimes without,"
His head down as he opened the kit, he looked up only with his eyes across the room from her after a brief moment of silence. "What's it going to be with you?" He cocked an expectant brow, and pulled a finger towards him to gesture her come. He tossed the first aid kit on the bedside table nonchalantly as if he'd asked her to remind him of the weather rather than strip right in front of him.
Steele swallowed, her mouth suddenly completely dry as she looked across at him, blankly. She wasn't sure which way she wanted to get undressed, or if she even wanted to at all. With help might be interesting, but also, she was still raving mad at him. So, just to torture him, Magnolia nodded and approached, pulling the V-neck over her head. She stopped relatively close to him, and turned away in a huff, feeling exposed, but more proving a point. Balling up the shirt, she pitched it in the corner aggressively. She then crossed her arms in front of her, raising her chin.
She'd be damned if she was going to play his games in nothing more than a sports bra and let him get his kicks at her expense.
With her upper torso now exposed, he ran a calloused hand over her shoulder, and down her back. She flinched slightly, as she knew there was a bright black and blue spot between her shoulder-blades where Aza had pile-driven her to the floor. There was another assortment of bruises and scars along her back as well that she knew he wasn't missing, but she did her best not to notice his touch too much.
She bristled, slightly, as his fingertips lingered over a bullet-wound just below her rib-cage, his hand tracing it carefully as if tending to a delicate muscle car than a mercenary. Then, with his other, he ran fingertips over the scarred flesh of her left arm. Again, a sudden rush of unwelcomed heat plagued her body, and sent her stomach flaming with a wave of pleasure.
"Nice scars," he observed quietly with a deep rasp.
"They're old," she grumbled over her shoulder, "you're supposed to be looking for new ones."
His chuckle drew her attention away, and Magnolia looked down herself, noticing the bruises and marks from her encounter with Aza hours earlier; feeling every one of them in her muscles and resolve. Ross, however, took his time. Finally, she turned to face him, and looked up as Barney continued to examine her body in more exploratory measures than concerned ones.
Satisfied, he reached over, cracked a pack to activate the ice, and handed it to her. There was a lopsided grin on his face that was sexier than hell, and left her insides to tremble with sickened madness.
"Satisfied?" She asked, holding the cool against her lip, desperate to break the tension between them. Despite everything, she was still attracted to Barney Ross, and he was still attracted to her. She'd give anything to erase his memory and transport them back to that first night, when all had been right and she'd been nonplussed to come onto him.
Fate had a nasty way of turning the tables, however.
"You're still wearing your pants," Barney said pointedly, his eyes sweeping over her body quickly. Magnolia couldn't tell if it was relished enjoyment or a testing resolve to remain composed that fueled the statement.
Steele frowned again, but with a huff, she unbuttoned her cargo pants and let them drop with a roll of her eyes. When she cocked a brow at him, still holding the ice pack, he wrapped an arm around her waist and lifted her out of them, leaving Magnolia in nothing but her underwear and lace-up boots and sports bra. He smiled at the thought that he was demented, because she looked sexy as hell, and he couldn't stand it. When she cocked an authoritatively challenging hip and put a hand on it, he thought he'd lose it right there in front of her.
But instead, he let her have her feet. Then, Ross reached up and freed her hair, tossing the pony-tail clip away. It fell around her face, down her back, and across her front in spirals. He was blasted with the scent of coconut, sweat, and dirt. His stomach flared with heat, very suddenly, when she had to refrain a twisted grin. He also couldn't help but notice that her skin bristled with goosebumps, as well.
Then, he chuckled out loud and raised a brow, scanning her up and down again. He could see just how badly she wanted to punch him in the face. He crossed his arms in front of him, "So, it's just a Shady thing then, huh?"
Dropping down on the cot uncharacteristically, ending the moment, Steele responded, "You're going to have to be a little more specific?" She raised a leg and crossed it over the other, beginning to unlace her boots. It was then he noticed the dark patches across her abdomen from her fight. He also noticed the muscles pull in her thighs in a way that oddly attracted him.
He pointed at her underthings, "Shady always wears lacy undergarments. It's like she takes pride in wearing something different each job." She dropped the ice-pack away from her lip, which was still swollen and ever-so-slightly numb, and raised a surprised and slightly ruffled brow. "Obviously you two don't share the same sentiments."
For some reason, that made Magnolia's blood pressure rise. A sharp glare and an imperious tone tinged her question, "Oh? Well, I'm sorry my lingerie choice isn't up to your standards," she spat, "Leave it to a man to judge a woman based on her thong and bralet set." It was more of a challenge than a statement, and her brow dropped into a furrow instead. "How would you know that, anyway?" She finally retorted.
Ross actually did look slightly abashed, and he rolled his eyes. "Don't get yourself in a tizzy. As you may have noticed, she's not exactly bashful around us. And, while we consider her a team member, she's still an attractive woman in interesting lingerie." He snorted, "We're not exactly blind. We are, actually, red-blooded American men." His brow went up in a silent question, and hers did the same in an equally silent reply.
Finally, she snorted , "You could've fooled me," and grumbled, then flashed a heated look back to him. "But, you expect me to believe it's a look and don't touch type thing, after a comment like that?" She chastised him relentlessly, probing.
"Oh, sure," he looked at Steele as if she'd lost her mind, rolling his eyes, "we've all had a round with Shady." His tone was dripping with sarcasm, "You have met Lee Christmas, haven't you?"
Magnolia actually smiled at that, the corner of her lips twitching. Tossing the pack onto the table, she finished getting rid of her combat boots and socks, and was now lounging on the bed, slowly falling across the cot and feeling every ounce of her exhaustion seep into its welcoming comfort. She crossed her feet at the ankles, and smiled at him wryly, taking note of the torture etched in his clamped jaw. Magnolia then reached up to spin a curl around her finger, as if to taunt him.
And, Barney admitted to himself, she was so damn close to that mental image he'd had of her earlier today that heat rushed throughout his body in places heat had no places being presently.
Then, Magnolia moved across the bed slowly, stood on her knees, and reached over and tugged at the hem of Barney's shirt. "So, with that out of the way," she lulled softly, "Are you going to give me the same courtesy?" She eyed him up and down, her hands careful. One eyebrow rose in yet another silent question, and he was a lost man. He felt his gut hit the floor as her fingertips traced along his abdomen, his jaw clamping down tightly. His breath threatened to catch audibly in his throat when her hand started to dip below his cargoes, the other on the buckle of his belt.
"What's it going to be with you, Ross?" Every ounce of her was dripping with seduction, and he was equally losing composure.
Barney Ross was now about to do one of the most difficult things he'd ever done, despite his better judgment, and he'd regret it later. He shook his head, 'no.' Then, he grabbed her hands quickly, before he lost his nerve. Responding, he replied, "Actions have consequences, sweetheart. Shady will find that out in a bit. You get the lesson sooner." He regretted instantly that the term of endearment sounded more of a sarcastic lilt than he had originally intended. Her facial expression read every ounce of his suspicion.
"What are you saying?" She whirled back from him, fumbled with the blanket, now covering herself. She narrowed her eyes at him. "Don't shit with me, Ross." She gripped the fabric tighter, her eyes screaming at him. He couldn't imagine he'd live through the idea of shitting with her, much less the actual act of.
He finally managed, "It's going to be up to Lee if she stays with the team."
"Because of me?" Magnolia was panicked, but her tone was harsh and demanding, as if calculating. Her intelligent eyes sparked with realization. "You wouldn't."
Barney gave a sigh, scrubbing his face with a hand. "Powell gave me her word that she could maintain her professionalism in spite of the obvious similarities between the two of you." He let his hand drop, "And, as you well know, she didn't exactly hold up her end of the bargain."
"It was extreme circumstances," once again, Steele defended her quickly. He appreciated her pride and her loyalty, as well as her compassion. Only briefly did he consider her compassion, however, as he remembered the sight of the warehouse, and Shady's leg. "You can't blame her for that. She made a choice because she wanted to save my life."
"And you?" He gestured to her. She blinked at him, surprised a moment.
She was immediately on guard, however, and she dared, "What about me?" with a glare.
He leaned forward into her face, suddenly forgetting the beauty of it in his frustration. "You told me you understood the mission. The job. That you were working for me. But, the minute you had the chance, you went off the damn reservation on your own," he chastised her, gesturing with a hand, and turned away sharply on his heel when her blue eyes assaulted him hotly. "You completely blew the op because of your own agenda. You could've gotten yourself, Lieu, and Shady killed." He paused briefly, "Or the rest of us."
"That's not fair," she inserted quickly. "And you know it –"
He whirled back around, interrupting her. "You could have asked me, Flowers. You could have given me the intel you got from Rakur and asked me to go, but you didn't. That tells me all I need to know," he once again started for the door, and pulled up when he heard her scramble off the bed.
Her body was almost to the point of trembling with rage, and fury cemented itself in her body language. Her tone was cold and unforgiving, "You don't know anything, Barney Ross. You never did." It resonated across the distance between them like gunfire. "There is a lot you don't know about me."
He squared his shoulders and turned back to face her, stopping only briefly to consider her wrapped in the blanket. Her knuckles where white, despite their cracked and bruised state, as she clutched it around her body. Her hair was spiraling over one shoulder, the rest down her back. It took everything he had to stomp back towards her, his narrowed gaze on her form.
"I value three things, Magnolia." He put up a hand and began counting off his fingers, "Honesty, loyalty and integrity. While her intentions may have been good, Boots forgot to whom she owed her loyalty. You," he exhaled heavily, "you not only disobeyed orders, but you were dishonest to boot." He gave her a smart glare, raising his brows to prove his point. "I don't have to know a lot about you to know that you're stubborn, you like to be in charge, and that you're very good at what you do." When her brows spiked, he unforgivingly tacked on, "But, like I said, actions have consequences. You know it, and I know it. And, sometimes, it means nobody wins."
Her voice was ragged with emotion, eyes flanking him quickly with assaulting hurt and anger, as well as confusion. She was searching for any type of give, but he wasn't sure he had any to show. "So, you really want me to believe that if I'd taken those extra few minutes, you'd have come along to rescue my team?" Her eyes scanned his own, and for a moment, he noticed the trace of disbelief trickle through them. "Or, for that matter, believe that you would've left Gunner, Lee or any one of them if the tables had been reversed because it would've interfered with your mission? That you would've done a job when you had the choice to get everything back?" And then, he saw a wall fling up where there had never been one before. Even as he considered her, she knew what his answer would be. He could see it. "I didn't think so."
Barney shrugged, "We'll never truly know, now will we?" He gave her a nod and moved towards the door heavily. Before he crossed through it, he heard her whip the blanket away from her, only to redress roughly. He closed the door behind him with a careful slam.
Once outside, he leaned on the door frame, eyes closed momentarily; heaving a sigh. This was why, he suddenly remembered, that he had stayed away from relationships, damn it. And why he cursed himself for getting way too involved with Magnolia Steele:
Because, when relationships ended, it hurt a hell of a lot more than getting shot and took a lot longer to heal.
Shady heard his hand on the door knob. In a moment she was standing, braced for a battle. Powell was barefoot, but that was all, unwilling to comply and guess the outcome of surrender. Something had to stand between her and Lee Christmas, and it might as well be clothes.
Lee entered to find Powell not semi-naked and reclining on the bed as he had ordered. Instead, she was on her feet, fully clothed and defiant as all hell, a pensive look on her face that was matched only with the most rigid body-language he'd ever seen. He contemplated her a moment.
Then, he crossed the room in three easy strides. Most men, not to mention women, would have turned tail and run, but not her. She stood her ground, chin up, ready to fight – the usual. Christmas tossed the first aid kit to the bed and once again grabbed her arms roughly. He dragged her tight against his body, his face nose-to-nose with Powell, "Do you dare test me, woman?"
His tone was that of the deadliest mercenary and she fought the urge to shiver. In the face of his fury, she countered softly, "Why are you so angry?"
"Because, damn you," he shook her slightly, "I nearly killed you tonight."
"I understand you were upset," she began to placate him, her tone carefully guarded but not defeated.
"No!" He all but roared, "me, I, Shady, I nearly killed you." And his grip turned into a hug as he pulled her fiercely to him, "When I saw that guard aim his gun at you, I didn't stop. I did what I knew how to do. I grabbed a knife and threw it as hard and as quickly as I could." She could feel his heart beating fast in his chest as if reliving the night's earlier event, feeling as if it might burst through his skin. She felt her stomach flop. He pulled back from her so he could see Powell's face, "And then, you stood up. I thought you were going to die and it would be at my hands." She, biting her lower lip, reached up to cup his face as he finished, "I was angrier at myself more than anything, for not thinking before I reacted. But you didn't help matters."
Shady ducked her head at that comment and the smile spread slowly from there. They were momentarily silent in each other's arm, until Lee quizzed, "Something amusing?" She dared a small grin and flash of her eyes.
She looked up hesitantly, "I thought you cut it a little close." She wrinkled her nose teasingly.
Lee finally showed her that he remembered how to smile; suddenly, a burden to contain. "Now, will you get undressed?"
Shady nodded, "I'm going to need help."
She shrugged off her top easily, but the pants had stuck to her leg. As gently as possible, he eased off the bottoms and revealed the ugly red scrape. She seated herself back on the bed, and Christmas made quick work of cleaning the wound and adding a bandage, his hands carefully graceful over the wound, as she sat motionless under his touch.
"It probably should have a stitch or two, but," he smiled again, looking up at her, "you'll live." She returned the grin as he asked, "Anything else?" He stood, discarded the soiled materials, and perused her with his eyes.
Shady nodded, then taking his hand, moved his fingers to the base of her head where Okunde's man had hit her with the rifle butt. "Well, that's quite the pump knot. Concussion?"
She answered honestly, "I don't think so. I'm not nauseous or dizzy. No blurred vision. Just a headache the size of Texas. But, really, I don't know if that's from the hit or the stress of the last several hours." She rounded the guilt on him with a cocked brow. "I wonder if you'd know anything about that."
He grunted in response as he went to the kit, and shook out what looked like aspirin, passing it to Shady with a bottle of water. "I know you don't like to take painkillers, but this won't hurt you." Trusting him, she took the medication and washed it down, listening as he continued. "I feel responsible for all of this, I'll have you know, Shady Powell. I really should have had Barney bench you for this job."
Powell nearly choked. She pulled the bottle down, "Excuse me?" A hand flew to recover the sputter of water falling from her lips.
Lee shook his head, "I knew the minute I read the case file it was going to be hard for you. I should have told him as soon as we had Steele and Pinksley out of Louisiana, that you weren't fit for duty."
She worked her jaw sideways, "Really, now."
Laying a hand possessively on her leg, his touch was gentle and soft. "Darlin', no one faults you for going with Magnolia. We've all lost teams. It's freshest for you."
"That's what you think?" Shady's voice rose slightly, "That this was a make-good? A way to atone for losing my NCIS team?" At his nod, Powell jerked away from Lee, "Screw you and the horse you road in on, Christmas. This has nothing to do with that."
Lee's voice was cold again, "Then maybe you'd better explain."
"You are such an idiot," she rolled off the bed, limping over to her bag to grab her robe. Tying the sash, she wheeled on him, "This isn't about NCIS. This is about you." She hitched a breath, "All I could think about when I saw that picture? What if it were you? What would I do?" At his startled expression she finished, "I knew I'd be no different than Magnolia Steele. I would move heaven and earth. Break every law – every rule. Disobey every order to get to you." She had been walking back towards the cot, and dropped down, exhausted. Her body finally receiving the messages her brain had been trying to send.
He took her hand in his. "Then that makes this a hell of a lot harder than I anticipated."
"What?" When Lee looked away, Shady inhaled quickly, realization dawning. "Barney left it up to you, did he?" She cursed under her breath, "Damn him too, then." She briefly wondered if Magnolia was having as shitty of luck with her encounter as she was having with Lee, but the thought quickly left when she looked back to Christmas.
"Your actions have consequences, Boots," he nodded at her question. "You knew the minute you made that choice that you were going back on everything you'd told him and me. And even though I know you left that message, the facts don't change. In that moment, you chose Steele and her team over your Expendables. That doesn't go unpunished."
"So is that all it will be?" Shady was suddenly a little frightened and, for some reason, a whole lot of tired. Her eyes suddenly hurt and felt swollen, and her legs felt like heavy weights attached to her torso. She could feel every breath, and every heartbeat felt slow and exaggerated in her chest.
"I don't know yet," Lee responded, watching her eyes begin to droop as she began to sway slightly. He reached out to stable her by the arm, "But, there won't be a final decision until we're stateside. So between now and then, I suggest you be a good soldier and follow orders from here on out."
Shady nodded her head, feeling her body begin to melt. Through lidded eyes, she once again looked at Lee Christmas. He took her shoulders, pushed her down on the cot gently, and pulled up the blanket around her chin. Her body began to fade into the mattress, the blankets foreign but welcoming. "Get some rest, Boots. You need it. Despite everything, you've done a ton of work on this mission. It's time to rest easy."
Shady grabbed at his wrist, trying to fight off the enveloping darkness, wanting him to stay. Any request she would have made was lost as she finally drifted into the darkness, her body melting into the cot in an exhausted and drug-induced sleep.
Lee looked down at this fascinating woman, then to the bottle in his hand. Once Shady realized he'd drugged her, it would be his turn to pay hell and high water. And, he'd pay dearly, too, because she wouldn't let him live it down. The thought made his gut sink. Gathering the first aid kit, he moved towards the door.
He'd worry about that bridge when he came to it, however. Christmas reluctantly left the room and his sleeping beauty after that, his gaze lingering over her one last time before he quietly closed the door.
Their newly acquired refugees were asleep on blankets and bedrolls all over their bullpen. While the accommodations weren't much better than what they'd had before, at least they weren't chained or under guard, and could rest safely with the promise of a new morning and redemption. The barracks was quiet aside from their snoring as Lee deposited the first aid kit back with the rest of the gear, save for the soft snoring and peaceful breathing of the refugees. As he passed them, Lee had to congratulate Magnolia Steele and her make-shift league: they'd done a hell of a job that none of them had thought to do, and had forfeited heaven to take hell to get it done.
Lee made his way into the kitchen after that, only to find the team sitting around the table, all nursing drinks; an extremely large bottle in the middle of them. He shook his head as he slid into a chair, "We are a sad, sorry lot," and his British lilt made the statement sound even worse. "Look at us?" His hand making an encompassing motion, he added, "Some of the most deadly and intimidating mercenaries in the world and we've been done in by a handful of women." He sat back roughly in his chair, it scraping the floor beneath him. "Good god," he mumbled.
Barney chuckled at the rant, "Damn beautiful women, though," and sat back in his own chair, running his hands down his face. He looked every part of exhausted that a person could be, and while he looked it, Lee was pretty sure he felt it across the table.
He agreed, "And each one of them in our beds, alone." He shook his head. "A damn crying shame, to be sure."
"So, I guess that means Shady is still alive," Hale jibed from across the table, chuckling.
"Like she was ever in any real danger of that from me," Lee smirked.
Ross leaned across the table, "Except for that little incident in the warehouse," and he grinned unrepentantly, rapping his knuckles across the table-top.
"How'd she take that?" Gunner quizzed.
Lee grunted, "Arrogant woman had the nerve to laugh about it." He rolled his eyes and tossed a hand into the air. "Cheeky, damn, beautiful wench."
"So all is well and back to normal?" Barney asked, his brow raising slightly. Lee cut him a sideways look and huffed out a snort as if he'd been joking. Barney pursed his lips into a thin line. "A no, then?"
He chortled, "Until she realizes what I've done, sure," and pitched the prescription bottle at Ross across the table. He reached up to catch it and glanced at the label, brows spiking.
Barney whistled and then looked at him, chortling ridiculously, "You slipped her a Mickey? What were you thinking?" He shook his head. "You looking for hell?"
Christmas scrubbed his face and sighed through his hands, "She hasn't slept any longer that three or four hours at a time since this whole mess began. She's got circles under her eyes that would rival the rings around Saturn. Now, she's got a bullet wound in her leg and a goose egg on the back of her head." He flopped backwards in the chair, exasperated, "So, if the woman doesn't have the good sense to take care of herself, then I guess I'm going to do it for her."
The men around the table shared looks, all of them smiling; a couple snickering. Barney leaned back in his own seat, "So," he motioned with his glass, "guess that means you're letting her stay with the team?"
Lee shrugged, rolling his eyes. "What can I say? I love her."
"Wow," Hale reached across the table to slap the top in front of the Brit, "we had no clue." His eyes were wide in mock surprise, and he tossed a look to Toll and fended off a snicker. Sitting back down, he draped an arm across the back of his chair.
Christmas shook his head, but his tone was very serious. "However, it was a vote that got her on the team. So, I think it's only right that you guys have a say on whether or not she stays." He looked between them during the silent pause.
Before he could finish the sentence, Barney said emphatically, "She stays." Around the table, the others joined in, voicing their agreement with nods and lifts of their glasses. Christmas wouldn't admit he was relieved, but he nodded in understanding.
He eyed Barney genuinely grateful for the answer. "Thanks." Taking another short pause, he countered, "So, bartender? What are you pouring?" He gestured to the bottle, suddenly curious.
"Tequila," was Ross' simple answer, reaching for the bottle and the empty glass between them. "What else?" Lee snorted at the thought.
"Then make it a double, if you please?" Lee reached for the glass as soon as it was full. Tossing it back and draining it, he put the empty forward for a refill. Once he had another shot, Lee leaned back against the chair and stared hard at Barney. "So, we all know now my sad and unfortunate tale. Why are you not sharing a bed this fine night, Chief?" The corner of his lip twitched as he recalled the name Magnolia had dared on the field, and the others cracked smiles and snorts, "Because there's a damned attractive woman in yours, too, if I recall properly."
Ross looked into his own glass, swirling the liquid lazily. He was debating whether or not to answer, but feeling every eye on him, he released a tired breath, "Honesty. Loyalty. Integrity." He rolled his eyes at how ridiculous it sounded out loud, and raised the glass to toss back the drink.
Christmas snorted, "Wow. That's deep," and rolled his eyes.
Toll tipped his head to the side, waving a hand as if to clear the thought away. "All lofty ideals, Ross. Don't do much about keeping you warm on a cold night like a woman can." He smiled knowingly, raising a brow before tossing back his own drink. The glass met the table with a sharp clack. "And Steele is more than enough woman to get that job done, if you know what I mean."
"Yeah, well," Barney mumbled, eyeing him from his chair, and rolled his eyes.
Caesar leaned forward and smacked the table roughly, "But, what did Steele really do wrong, Barney?" He countered now, "Toll said it best when we were going to take them that night in NOLA. They're mercenaries, no different than us." He shrugged a shoulder. "She went with her gut and shorted the odds, head down and full bore forward. Brought her team back together and took out a hell of a group of soldiers while doing it. She did what she thought was right." He eyed his friend, "No different than you or I woulda done if the tables were turned."
Ross couldn't argue, only nod in understanding. He took another drink and finally, Barney said, "Yeah, well, there are other reasons that don't involve any of you. So, move on."
Lee chuckled. "Damn, demented ass," he muttered. Then, turning to Gunner, he leaned forward, and asked, "And what's your reason for being here and not with the delectable redhead?"
Jensen had been slouched in the chair from the time Lee had entered, a cold and distant look on his face. The man had only the one drink which was an anomaly for the big Swede, who they all knew, liked his liquor. He held the glass tightly, trying to form the right question in his mind. He finally turned slowly to Christmas, "How do you do it?" Gunner sat up slightly, "How do you deal with the fact that the next body might be Shady's?"
Lee got a sideways grin on his face, "Not very well as I've demonstrated over the last several hours." The guys chuckled once again as Christmas shifted in his seat. He held his glass between two hands, resting on the table as he moved forward, "No, Gunner, I…I trust Shady, her training, and the team that surrounds her." He looked around at the men now sharing drinks, gesturing to them with a raised hand. "And, I say a silent prayer whenever we kick in a door together." Christmas saluted Jensen on that comment and tossed back his drink, reaching for the bottle to pour his own refill.
"But her team isn't us," Gunner countered.
Toll shook his head, "Like hell they aren't. You saw that devastation in the warehouse. Those women haven't earned their reputation lightly." He shook his head as if shaking off the thought. "I wouldn't want to piss any one of them off," he added finally.
"And you saw Pinkie fighting in Aza's manor," Barney continued. "You know her training's sound," he gestured to the Swede, raising his brows as he lifted his drink.
Lee picked back up, "But it all comes down to what you really want." He got the goofiest grin on his face, "Shady Powell drives me absolutely stark-raving mad. And, I'm the happiest I've ever been in my entire life in spite of it." He shrugged. "And I'm too much of a bloody fool to let her slip through my fingers, so I put up with it. Not every man's cup of tea, my friend, but it sure is a good glass if you can stomach it."
Jensen nodded but his tone was serious, "Yeah, I just don't know." His voice trailed off and he finished his drink. Barney leaned over and filled the Swede's glass again silently.
Warming up to his sudden promotion as "Relationships with Female Mercenaries" expert, Lee waved an imperious hand, "And what advice to the lovelorn can I offer to you two?" He cocked his head at Toll and Hale, fighting off a smile. Ross chuckled.
Road instantly sputtered, "Lovelorn? No, I mean, she's pretty and all but that's not why I'm not in her bed. My bed." He jerked a thumb to his chest, then shook his head to correct the thought.
Barney took a sip, and then laughed. He patted the man's arm, "It's alright, Road," he rumbled, "It happens to the best of us. If we could see it coming, we wouldn't be men." He shrugged a complacent shoulder to finish off the thought.
"No," Toll continued to deny, "Jo's been sleeping on nothing more than a concrete floor for the last seven months. What kind of asshole would I be if I didn't let her have the bed?" He gestured, palms up, to them. They all shook their heads and chuckled at him.
"Methinks the lady doth protest too much," Gunner quoted in his best Shakespearean accent, and the whole table only stared at him with speculative and less-than-impressed expressions. He shrugged, the moment lost.
Giving a quick shake of the head, Lee then turned his attention back to Caesar, "And you?"
Barney wiggled forward in his chair, grinning. "Yeah, Hunk," he cocked a brow as he called Hale the name Riles had used in the truck, "There's gotta be a story there and you're going to damn well tell it." He shared a laugh with the others as Caesar's face twisted into a surprised and lost look.
Caesar's eyes rounded and he made a face, "Heard that did ya'?" Barney nodded. Hale sighed, "I don't know. That woman is damned pretty. The kind that you could quickly find yourself ass over teakettle for." He sucked in a breath, and at Barney's surprised look, he wagged a finger. "Don't you even, you smart-mouthed asshole. You damned well know what I'm talkin' about." He waved off Ross' snicker, "And I'll be damned if I didn't notice her, rags and all. Hell. How do they even do it?" He eyed them from his place. "None of us have ever looked that damn good after any shit-storm," he finished.
Lee slugged him, "Welcome to my world. I ask myself every day." The big man joined in the laughter after that. Barney shook his head as he once again looked around the table at his compatriots.
Lee reached his glass forward, offering a toast, which the others quickly joined. He chuckled then, "Yep. We're a damned sorry lot, indeed."