A/N: Sorry for the delay- work got crazy busy as it seems everyone decided to sue all at once. But briefs all in and now back to the fun, for me. Hope you all are enjoying and the pace is going to pick up. Thanks for the reviews and taking the time to spend some time with my story.
December 25, 1991: Greater Caucasus Mountains, Shepherd's Pass
Chapter 29: You are leading me on
Lifeline knew better than to get in Flint's way. Instead, he stood back and observed as the burly man plowed over the hapless greenshirts. Chuckling, he knew this was one mission with which to not interfere. No, he preferred to sit back and count to twenty, which he estimated as a reasonable amount of time to allow the warrant officer to burn out.
He got to ten, and held up a hand to stop Ripcord, "Give him ten more seconds." Ripcord paused; amazed that Lifeline could be so unflappable given the escaping Flint. But Lifeline, a practitioner of aikido who devoted himself to preserving the harmonious way of life, had learned to maintain his cool in the worst of circumstances. This usually manifested itself on the battle field where Lifeline never attacked, only defended. As a pacifist, Lifeline would never be the aggressor. His goal was to always save his patient.
Even then, his fluid and trained motions of deflecting an adversary's charge brought the occasional disbelieving eye.
Counting to fifteen, Lifeline was more amused than anything that he would even have to count. As a Joe, he quickly discovered that it wasn't his patients he was losing but rather his patience. If ever there was a more rag tag group in desperate need of some discipline, his teammates were it. By the end of his third week as a Joe, Lifeline found himself flexing his fists more than once. In fact, others would remark that in a particular training session with Beachhead, there was some question as to whether Lifeline merely redirected the force of Beachhead's attack, as was consistent with his philosophy, or used his parry as a cover to place one well-directed fist into Beachhead's face. It was after this incident that Lifeline took to getting up extra early to head off base to meditate on his predicament. During one of these sessions, as he counted breaths, it came to him, he just needed to count.
Life gave him an opportunity to test out his new approach that afternoon after stumbling upon a rather heated discourse between Lady Jaye and a nurse concerning the required vaccinations for an upcoming mission. The old Lifeline would have pulled his hair out trying to convince the covert specialist that the nurse "didn't have it in for her" and "wasn't fudging the paperwork." The new Lifeline estimated it to be at least a thirty and started ticking off the numbers in his head. As he approached 26, the nurse and Lady Jaye stopped their bickering and just stared as if he had walked into the room wearing a pineapple on his head and no pants. Lady Jaye opened her mouth and Lifeline shook his head once, silencing her before she could start. As his mind said 30, he looked at her, announced that there was no great conspiracy and to please allow the medical staff to do their job. Satisfied at a crisis averted, Lifeline continued on his way.
Reaching twenty, Lifeline made his way around the astonished greenshirts to the other side of the jeep where he imagined Flint would be passed out. Finding no Flint, Lifeline looked down and followed the footprints to his confirmation, "Hey Ripcord," Lifeline called behind him, "I'm going to need some help over here."
Ripcord met up with Lifeline and followed his sight line to a ball of Flint passed out in the snow a few lengths away from the jeep. "Well, at least he didn't get too far." Ripcord whistled to the greenshirts to bring the stretcher over.
Lifeline and Ripcord picked their way through the snow, exchanging theories as to what Flint had been mumbling. Initially surprised at not seeing Lady Jaye at the site, Lifeline listened to Ripcord's dissertation on the rumors of their demise. Ripcord felt personally responsible, while Lifeline pondered how many more numbers he would have to add to his interactions with the former pair. Dealing with them was manageable at best when they were together, apart it would be a horror to treat grumpy and grumpier. But hey, wasn't a guaranteed pension worth the added stress?
Although there might have been some question as to how Flint ended up in the backseat, both men had witnessed too many weird things that day to take particular stock of Flint's situation. No, to them, this was standard operating procedure when initiating a Flint rescue. It ceased to be standard operating procedure when next to Flint they found Lady Jaye, passed out, pink snow surrounding her prone figure. Lifeline yelled, "Winter kit, STAT!"
The greenshirts sprang to life, rushing forward with warming blankets and Lifeline's trauma kit. Deeming Lady Jaye to be the more serious of the two, Lifeline relegated Flint's care to a junior medic and turned his attention to Jaye. Rolling her over onto her back, Lifeline began to check her vitals. Her pulse was slow and sluggish and her pupils barely responded to his inspection. "Ripcord," he ordered, "hold her head while I check for wounds."
Ripcord responded, leaving Flint to the ministrations of a junior medic. Flint at least had shown he could move, Lady Jaye, on the other hand, showed no signs of real life. As he held her steady, Ripcord said a silent prayer that his buddy would pull through. He couldn't imagine the Joes without her and he and Mainframe would be left two wandering souls.
Lifeline tore the parka open, exposing a tattered sweater and a nasty puncture wound to her chest. Checking her leg, Lifeline breathed a sigh of relief that whatever had stabbed her missed her artery and was of such heat that some of the wound was cauterized. Motioning Ripcord around to elevate her leg, Lifeline went into overdrive and the only numbers left in his head were the medical calculations of life and death.
Flint entered the cave, cursing his lack of a firearm. He could have sworn he packed his pistol. Drawing his knife from his boot, he felt like he just brought a feather to a bomb fight, or whatever that saying was. If it wasn't Yeats then he didn't need to know, or, at least that's what he told Lady Jaye when he messed up a quote. Letting out a whistle, maybe a bomb fight wasn't that far off. Scattered around him were all the signs of a massive brawl. To the left of where he stood, he could make out the impressions and displacement of soil from a body withering out of the way. There too were deep divots and indents from something jabbing at the retreating figure. Stepping away from the wall, he turned his head and fought to keep his dinner down. In the middle of the room was a mass of putrid liquid and bones. Kicking at the pile, Flint leaned down and picked up a bone. Please god, please god, don't let it be. Relief washed over him as closer examination revealed that the bone was much too large to belong to Jaye.
He didn't know why that thought went through his head. Lady Jaye was up above and he was just trying to get back. And I have a bridge to sell in Brooklyn. A nagging suspicion that something wasn't quite right was growing in the back of his brain. It seemed a little too convenient that Jaye was hugging a hole he couldn't see. He smelled a potential trap. Putting the bone back down, Flint finished canvassing the cavern. Seeing nothing else of interest, he decided to move on. Ducking through the next opening, a flash of green caught his eye. Stooping down, he picked up a fragment of army green nylon. He knew where he had seen that before, Lady Jaye's parka. Tucking it into his pocket, things were getting weirder. Suddenly, Hardy came to mind, you are leading me on, to the spots we knew when we haunted here together. He instinctively felt that Lady Jaye wasn't up top but rather was down below with him, close. If he could find her, maybe some of this would start to make sense. Hold on, I'm coming.
Wolf and Lady Jaye exited the church and found themselves once again on familiar ground as the path turned into a long, winding tunnel faintly lit by the glowing orange powder. The pair had no way to tell if they were headed in a new direction or if the path was one already tread. All they could do was to keep placing one foot in front of the other. Lady Jaye was starting to loss hope. Every action seemed to just be a marker in what would be a never-ending series of actions. She foresaw them marching forward, overcoming a challenge, and then marching on again. It would never end. They would almost be better served by staying put and letting whatever it was come to them. Why make it harder than it had to be.
She stopped. "Rezo?"
"Hmmm?" he turned back toward her.
"How do you feel?"
"Alright I suppose."
"No, not like that," she paused; she didn't want to influence him, "Mood-wise. What are you feeling?"
Wolf scanned his thoughts. He had been ruminating on the futility of his feelings for Lady Jaye. Come to think of it, those thoughts had been taking on a darker tone. Wolf understood Lady Jaye's query all the more, "Not again."
She tried to control the emotions on her face but she truly felt finished. Closing her eyes, she concurred with Wolf, "They're coming." Her whole demeanor changed as her head dropped and the despair stepped in.
Wolf grabbed her by the arms and shook her, "No, we are not giving up."
"Just let them take us. It won't be so bad." Her voice was transparent and distant. She wouldn't even look at Wolf.
Wolf squeezed harder, "No. Look at me. We will fight."
Lady Jaye felt as if she was drifting away. She could hear Wolf's voice and he sounded angry but she couldn't make out his words. He was a blurred figure on the periphery. There were the voices of doubt and the voices of something else. She could barely discern her name. Could it be possible that the demis would know her name?
"No. Fight!" Wolf released an arm and slapped her in the face.
Lady Jaye gasped and lifted her hand to her cheek, still stinging. Her eyes were on him now.
"Ahh. . . ." Wolf's face was a mix of conflicted emotions. He had to get her back; he hurt her. He walked off a few steps away from her. "Alison." He leaned his face into the wall, hiding his shame.
Lady Jaye had a clearer head and stepped up to him, a hand on his shoulder, "It's ok."
Wolf jumped at the touch, agitated and unsettled. Now he was the one that couldn't look her in the eye. He chastised his brain. He could never explain his actions. After all his talk of saving her and protecting her from harm, it turned out he was the one from whom she needed protection.
"Come on Rezo. It's the demis talking." She let out a chuckle, "Don't make me hit you."
Wolf glanced over at her, the corner of his mouth raised, "Heh. Good one."
"Truce?" Lady Jaye held out a hand. Wolf was about to take it when the ground trembled beneath their feet and they went down in an awkward pile of arms and legs. Wolf scrambled to his feet, half dragging her down the corridor and half pulling her to her feet, "Run!"
The earth rumbled again, and Wolf tripped over his feet, skidding a few feet down the path. Lady Jaye's legs gave out under her, and she fell a few paces behind him. Using the wall to steady her movements, she dashed over to Wolf, helping him up. A low roar echoed against the walls and was like nails on a chalkboard, grating down their spines. Lady Jaye covered her ears, "Make it stop!"
Wolf tugged at her, "Just run! Run!" Grabbing her hand, he ran as fast as his legs would carry him, praying they could survive. They bolted as if hell itself were at their heels. Digging into the dirt, Lady Jaye pushed past the pain of muscles spent and oxygen gone low. It became too much to maintain her pace and hold on to Wolf's hand. Reluctantly, she released his fingers, ignoring the demis' shrill cries that replaced his comforting grip. Several sharp turns in the corridor tripped up the pair, but they managed to keep up the grueling pace, until they hit a dead end.
Wolf saw the wall a split second before he crashed headfirst. Willing his body to a skidding stop, he managed to swing his torso around and grab Lady Jaye, preventing her from slamming into it. With a slight grunt, he pushed her toward the ground, using his body to shield her from the jarring impact with the blunt outcrop of rocks ahead. Taking the brunt of the blow in his right shoulder, he yelled out and tumbled over her, leaving the two lying there, panting and gasping for air.
Wolf hoisted up to a sitting position, shuddering at the pain radiating from his shoulder; surely it had to be dislocated. There wasn't time to assess. There was only time to move. From the looks of it, a decision had to be made.
Smiling in an effort to hide his pain, Wolf already made the decision; it was getting her to agree that would be the hard part. Standing to his feet, Wolf assisted Lady Jaye up. He sensed a change in her demeanor and knew she had noticed the same thing.
Glancing to either side, Lady Jaye whispered, "The lady or the tiger; we have to choose."
"There's a third choice."
She diverted her attention to Wolf. Searching his face, she tried to get a read off of him. He was closing her out. She set her chin in grim determination; he couldn't shake her that easily. "No, we stick together. It's our only chance."
"It was our only chance." The emphasis wasn't lost on her, "Chance has changed for me."
"Oh no, don't you go playing macho big man on me. We pick one."
Here came the hard part, "And I've picked, I go that way," he pointed to his left, "and you go that way," he pointed just beyond where she stood. "Decision made." He stared at a fixed mark above her head; he couldn't look at her, not now.
"No, Rezo, no. We will go left." She stepped toward him, reaching out.
He batted her arm away, folding his arms across his chest. "I don't think you understand." The demis were gaining ground. There was no time for pleasantries. If she wouldn't move of her own accord, he would have to do it another way. A part of his soul would die but what choice did he have? "Go, now. I'll count to five before I leave."
"Rezo?" The tone of her voice cut at him. It was soft and questioning, she truly didn't understand. Lady Jaye's lower lip trembled, she sucked it in, embarrassed that her emotions were so forthcoming. It was probably the most overplayed scenario in Cover Girl's romance novels, yet here it was unfolding before her eyes, leaving her an unwilling participant. He was going to send her off in hopes of sacrificing himself. She wouldn't stand for it. She held her ground.
"Don't even start." Wolf looked through her. "You think my father was the only one who could play a game?" There, the sharp intake of breath; he knew he startled her and pulled out that little voice of warning that had to have been hidden in her head. "You honestly think my father did it all on his own? My father could never do what he did without me."
"Please Rezo . . ."
Maintaining a steady clip to dig away at her resolve as well as to keep his feelings in check, Wolf dug up the knife, "No, he needed me to do the things he couldn't do," a laugh for affect, a laugh to keep from crying, "And now we've come to an end. You'll only slow me down." He pointed behind her, "Go, now. I'd rather they follow you than me."
Her body betrayed her heart as she took a small step back.
Wolf had that metaphorical knife in his hands, "If I have a chance, that doesn't leave much room for you." Wolf fought against the pain emanating from his shoulder. The endorphins had faded and he was in dire straits. "One. Alison, I'm the faster runner."
She took another step back, "Come on Rezo. Stop it."
But he needed her to think she was the one in dire straits, "I think this is where our partnership ends." A wink and a leering smile, he resumed his countdown, "Two."
Silence was her only retort. In as many days she had allowed another Makashvili in. Fool her once, shame on them, fool her twice? She gulped and edged away from Wolf. It didn't seem right. This wasn't Wolf, this wasn't her Wolf. But what did she really know about Wolf? What had she known about Giorgi? Like father?
"I see it on your face, yes, like son." Another laugh and Wolf closed the coffin on his happiness, "Tsk, tsk Alison. You should learn from your mistakes." A rumble in the distance punctuated his words, "They're coming. I'm giving you a head start. It's only fair."
"Damn you Rezo." She wiped away a tear and darted down the corridor.
Wolf slumped against the wall behind him, slamming his fists. "Arghhhhh!" His scream echoed through the corridor. Falling to the ground, his eyes locked on the hazy approaching shapes. He mumbled to himself, "on three," and rotated his right arm inward. Grasping his wrist with his left hand, he braced his back against the wall. Screaming out, "Three!," he pushed his right arm outward, popping the joint back in.
