There really aren't enough apologies in the world. Again, I am saying this, and again I mean it from the bottom of my heart. So, to try to appease my awful time-keeping skills, I give you a verylong chapter.
Don't forget, only one more to go! Becs xx
"It is good to have an end to journey toward; but it is the journey that mater in the end."
Ursula leGuin. Author.
Xx
"Bonasera." Stella mumbled into her phone, balancing it between her ear and shoulder.
"Stella, it's me. Have you got the Phyllis file?" Natalie asked.
"It's on my desk."
"I'm in your chair."
Stella straightened up, imagining herself in her office and behind her desk so to describe where the case file was. "On your left. Second pile. Third file."
"Got it! Thanks. Are you ready to go?"
"Pretty much."
"…Are you shaving your legs?"
Stella snorted with disbelief - how did she know? "So?"
"Oh, it is so a dirty weekend in DC!"
"I'm wearing a dress tomorrow! I don't want to look like Ralph the Safety Dog in the Dolce."
"Nor the La Perla…"
"You have way too much of an interest in my sex life."
"Hey, I'm just glad you have one."
"You're trying to get pregnant, you've got the best sex life of anyone I know!"
Natalie laughed down the phone. "See you Monday."
Stella chuckled a "Bye," and hung up, finished her task.
Xx
It was only 53 minutes in the air from New York to Washington DC. The pilot had announced it as they came to a halt in Dulles airport, his voice tinged with pride, even though this was probably the ninety-fifth time he'd done the path.
Mac and Stella grabbed their bags from the conveyor belt and hailed a cab outside. The cold weather wasn't just a New York thing, they found, as they pulled their lapels tighter around their chests. The sun was almost finished switching shifts with the moon and bringing the night chills with it.
"Taylor?" Mac told the man behind the check-in desk of their hotel. Stella leant against the solid wood counter and took in her surroundings. It was a nice hotel. She could easily imagine random politicos walking the halls, blonde assistants trying to keep pace and take notes at the same time.
"Taylor…Taylor…Ah, here we go," the clerk said, his fingers tapping madly on a keyboard hooked to a computer hidden from view. "Mr. Taylor from New York. Here for the Military Event and wanting two rooms?" He looked to Mac for confirmation. With a nod, the man - name tag reading Roosten - clicked some more keys and turned to the pigeon-holed wall behind him. He took two keys and handed them to Mac. "The elevators are down that hall and to the left. Your rooms are on the fifth floor - park view - and please enjoy your stay with us."
Mac thanked him, taking the keys and bending for his bag from the floor. It was then that he noticed his guest and wandered off. He wasn't wholly surprised, once something caught Stella's eye or mind, she was off until she had answers.
He found sat back on a large overstuffed maroon leather chair, legs crossed, eyes gazing out to the quickly vanishing sunset. The orange hues cast across the sky reminded her of the last time she'd watched the sunset with Mac - landing back in New York after their vacation to Portugal. So much had happened in the time since, it was almost sad.
"Ready?" Mac asked, trying not to startle her too much.
Stella nodded with a wistful smile, falling into step as they headed for the elevator. He handed her her key as the doors whooshed shut and the car jerked into life. The muzak of 'Ma Cherie Amore' taunting them as they ascended floors in almost-painful silence.
The signs, as the door opened, indicated their rooms were to the right, and were soon to be found directly opposite each other. Stella wasn't sure when exactly it had happened, but the pair had fallen into the bashful, tension-filled mannerisms that has plagued them since their break up. She hoped the rest of the stay wouldn't be of the same, but as they turned their backs to one another to open their doors, she couldn't help but expect it.
"So," she said as he swung open. "I'll see you tomorrow?"
"Do you want to get something to eat? I hear the restaurant here is one of the best in the city."
"Not tonight, eh? It's been a long day. I think I'm just going to order to room service and fall asleep to Letterman." The day had been long - the flight being after a full day shift and delayed on top of that - but Mac's disappointed eyes bore guilt straight into her.
"Yeah, sure. I'll see you tomorrow. I'll knock at 10am, that okay?"
"That's good," she smiled and slipped away to her room.
Mac watched after her for a minute, wondering if he was being watched through the key hole, not really caring. God, he really needed to sort his head out.
Xx
Mac Taylor lay propped up in his bed, berating himself for not bringing those clean sheets and trying his hardest to not analyse the bed spread too much. He knew better than anyone about the perils of hotel linen, but he lay there, skin on cotton, with his mind far, far away.
Why had he asked her to come? Because she surprised him in his office when he was reading the letter? Because he didn't want to come, but subconsciously did and knew it would take Stella to frog-march him to the ceremony? Or because he saw the fact of getting away from the city, and the inevitable memories of when he returned home and they had got together, as some way of reconnecting with Stella Bonasera and maybe restarting their relationship?
Xx
There was something about hotels that made Stella feel like a kid again. Maybe it was that they would be in different cities, so the excitement of a new environment and new people brought it out in her; maybe it was that they broke up her usual daily routine, more often than not by re-introducing the novel notion of lie-ins…
Or maybe it was just the company she came to hotels with.
What was she seeing for the break ahead? That she and Mac would somehow settle their differences and restart what they had? Was that really an option? Or did Mac really just ask her to come along as someone to lean on, and use as a scapegoat when locked in conversations he would really rather not be having?
God, she hated these games.
Xx
Was that everything? Speech in the breast pocket, cellphone - on silent/vibrate - in left jacket pocket and room key in trouser pocket. Mac double checked with a cursory look around the hotel room and slipped out into the hallway. He smoothed the navy blue over-coat down, proud that the Marine suit still fitted him.
He knocked on Stella's door and heard a "Two seconds!" in reply. He waited two seconds and knocked again. "Very funny!"
When Stella did open the door - not thirty seconds later - Mac had to blink.
Her unruly curls teased to perfection; make-up accentuating her best feature - twinkling emerald green eyes; and that dress. He didn't begin to understand where she found such a dress with the time she'd had to search, but nevertheless…
Never one to go flashy, the neckline showed just enough to leave the imagination filling in the rest and begging for more, and the muted white colour highlighted her tinted skin tone beautifully.
"Will I do?" She asked, her eyes glinting with mischievousness and feminine wiles.
"I'm not even going to dignify that with an answer," he smirked, holding out his arm. "Come on."
Xx
"So, what happens here?" Stella asked, clutching Mac's arm for balance as they made their way down the steps to their seats. The actual podium was at the base of a small hill, the drink stands and food tent being at the top.
"Awards, speeches, hopefully a lot of beer, then a meal."
"When do you go on?"
"I'm last. I'm the highest ranking receiver here, so I'm there to close with a speech."
"You give a speech?"
"'About the rewards of fighting for my country and how everyone here is just a small, but important, contingent to the allied forces winning this war.'"
"I get the impression they weren't your words…"
"No, they were not." Mac said, guiding her into two free seats.
"Can I read what you have?"
"No, but you can hear it soon enough," he smiled, his eyes tinged with tedium and longing to be somewhere else. Anywhere else. Stella squeezed his arm and smiled confidently for him.
---
The award session had began with a speech about how proud each and every attendee should feel, whether they were military personnel or civilian, that the future of the West's liberty and safety was held in the hands of those before them. It was a touching speech, and one that Stella was half-expecting to be book ended by the National Anthem.
She knew that they were words that Mac more than believed in, but maybe felt like he didn't need to hear them, at least in the circumstances he heard them in. He still felt some animosity to being asked there in the first place, with the events surrounding his 'courageous act' not feeling particularly courageous on his part.
The ceremony had two intervals, where those in attendance could travel back up the steps to the drink tents before retaking their seats for the next session. They were into their second break, meaning Mac's speech was coming up next and he was being whisked away for a quick briefing about what his speech should entail.
Stella wished him luck and stepped to the railings to watch him descend back to the lower tier. She began to take in her surroundings again, the rolling fields counteracted with the metal high-rises in the distance, Carl Stankevich watching her from the bar…
Her face must have registered her surprise because he began to make his way over to her, eyes cast downwards.
"Stella."
"Carl, how are you?" He looked well enough. His dark suit blended him into the background, but he was clean shaven and had a healthy glow about him.
"I'm good, doing well. You?"
"I'm good." She looked down to Mac, wondering if he had noticed the conversation.
"Listen, I-I don't know what Mac told you about, about what happened over there. I just couldn't hack it no more. The things you see over there, they really screw you up. I couldn't see any other way out than… than what I did. I regret so much that Mac got hurt, it was never ever part of my plan for someone other than myself to get hurt. I can't thank him enough, though, for what he did. I wasn't in the right place to appreciate what I had and what I have. Could you tell him for me, please?"
"He knows that, Carl. He knows better than anyone what your went through." Stella said, her hand delicately stroking his arm, the familiar sting of tears threatening.
Carl nodded, "Still…"
"I'll tell him."
He braced himself on the railing, his eyes falling to the stage where his Major was getting briefed for his big moment. "He deserves this reward, you know. Whatever circumstances he may have been nominated for, he deserves it tenfold."
Stella beamed with pride as she followed Stankevich's eyeline. She hoped Mac had to come to see that he deserved it too.
"Bye Stella. I hope you two will be happy together. You deserve it just as much as he."
Before she could update him on recent goings-on, he had already disappeared back into the crowd from which he came.
"Ladies and Gentlemen," the speaker announced from the stage, "we have our final award to give out. This medal is too the highest ranking Marine with us today. He has served and protected through many battles, living to tell his inspirational story. Please give a round of applause as we award the Medal of Honor to Major Mac Taylor."
The congregation did just that as Mac stepped back into view. Stella lead the way, tears even moreso threatening now, as she took in his humble but appreciative demeanor. The medal was pinned to his lapel, before the speaker gestured to the microphone for him to say a few words.
He stepped forward, his eyes casting to the audience and his hand digging into his pocket. As the crowd fell into a anticipative lull, Mac looked to his medal, then to the officials watching him eagle-eyed from the sidelines. They had approved of his speech, because it was basically their words. The officers in the stands had heard their words all day…
The folded speech in his hands was put back into his pocket.
"I was asked to make a speech about courage and how everybody here is present because we are 'the best of the best'. I'm not going to say that. I'm in no way saying that that it is untrue, but I know how sick I am personally of hearing that, that I'm about ready to shoot the next person who says it, so I don't know about you…" An ominous chuckle sounded.
Mac took a deep breath. "We are all here today because we have seen death. We have witnessed it, and no doubt caused it in many cases. It is not something we are necessarily proud of, but in that split second where we had to choose a path to take, it let us here today. By having you all sit in front of me now, you chose the right path.
"It will never get easier. No matter how much you train your body and your mind, having death so uncomfortably close will follow you forever. The only thing I can suggest, by having faced it for over 25years in the military - and on the streets of New York City - is that you have something to look forward too. To have someone to come home too means more than anyone can possibly understand. To have that need to see your daughter's first ballet recital, to teach your son how to throw a football 50 yards or to return that keepsake to a loved one back home is more important than any motivational speech your superiors might say to build moral.
"The end is not in sight as yet. One day, this hell will be over, but until then all we can do is support each other both here and where ever we are stationed. "We are not sent into this world to do anything into which we can not put our heart." It is because we have justice in our hearts that we will win the war. We have overcome the enemy this much, we can survive anything they throw at us. We have shown that beyond comparison the last 6 years, and we will show it forevermore.
"If there is nothing else good to come out of this battle, it is how united we have become because of it. We all have the same wish in our hearts, the same view of the future. Peace. It is up to us to secure it. "In the long run, we get no more than we have been willing to risk giving."
Thank you. Stay safe."
Mac descended the stage, heading for the steps to climb back to Stella, and the drinks tent. He stopped in his tracks as those in front of him rose to their feet. As did those behind them. And those behind them. Rapturous applause greeted him. The congregation of young and old servicemen and women appreciated being told the truth. It wasn't pretty - what was? - but there was still hope it in. Exactly what they needed to hear and know as they headed into their next tours.
Mac shook some hands as he restarted his way back to Stella. She wrapped her arms around him tightly, wiping away a fallen tear. "Come on…"
Xx
He was certainly a sight to behold when surrounded with his admirers. Newly decorated men wanted to buy him a drink, just generally be in the presence of someone they could learn from. Newly decorated women sought the same. Acceptance for being in a still-male dominated force… and anything else he might have been offering.
She caught his eyeline at one moment, a shared, almost bashful, smile exchanged. He regarded back to his listeners and pointed to Stella in a silent goodbye gesture.
"Hello, stranger," she smirked, taking the drink she had been waiting for for nearly an hour.
"Sorry about that. The young ones can talk when they want too."
"Good for them," she smiled, sipping at the martini. "Listen, why don't you go back to your adoring crowd, I'll head back up to the room and see you tomorrow."
"I haven't really been a great host for you, have I?"
"Of course you have, stop that. I'm just tired and you're still wired. Not to mention the fans you'd be disappointing if you left just yet."
He looked over his shoulder, the people he'd been talking hadn't even dispersed yet. "At least let me walk you to our floor."
"That, I will accept," she said with a smirk, linking her arm with his as they left the large room for the hallway elevators.