Changing POV – an emotional moment for Jo


N/A This is just a short scene, in preparation of the climax of the next three chapters. Thanks for keeping reading!


The cold water was washing away the blood that had imbibed 87's shirt and, as the red stream traced a spiralling line down the sink, Jo felt the tears that had welled in her eyes finally break the dam and run down her cheeks. After a few seconds she was sobbing silently in the bathroom, unable to stop.

She knew why she was crying. It was a mix of anger and sorrow, of sad memories and present regrets. And Richard, of course. The thought of Richard had started stabbing her just a few seconds after the bullet had pierced 87's arm.

Oh God, no, no, please no!

Just like the past night also that day she had prayed the God of her mother, that same God she didn't believe in. She had prayed because she knew that there are times in which things are just out of your hands and you can only hope – pray – that someone else can change them. That time God hadn't been listening.

Afghanistan. Her first mission. The convoy had been travelling for less than an hour when the leading humvee had hit a land mine. She was the only doctor in the convoy and she was unharmed, her vehicle being the third. Not so Richard, who had been driving the first.

It was her first mission, the first time she was in charge, the first time she was in a firefight and her friend – her best friend, friend with capital F – was there, with parts of his bowels throbbing out of his gut. Every time she thought of him she remembered it all as if it was yesterday: her hands shaking, his cries, the stink of burned flesh, his feeble voice while he made her promise to personally break the news to Kelly and Sophie – his wife and daughter – and then his sad, knowing look when he told her that there were other soldiers injured and that she had to take care of them too.

"Sweetheart, dry your tears and do your job"

And she had done it even though she felt like something inside her heart was being torn apart. She had taken care of the others, and she had done it well. She had even received a commendation from the General. She had let her friend die and she had been commended.

Life's really a bitch sometimes.

After that time she had learnt her lesson. She had mastered the art of detachment, even when she had to treat people she knew well, people she cared about; now she was able to keep on going, efficiently and professionally. But the past night, when 87 had fallen over her, she had lost it. She had managed to calm down a bit when she had finally been able to ascertain that there was no massive haemorrhage, but only now that the bullet was out could she breathe again.

Fuck

She hadn't realized that she was so involved. She had been aware that she was attracted to him – she had been from the very first second she'd laid her eyes on him – and she had also known for a while that she liked him. But that… that was different. It was almost scary. And it also made her angry. She had behaved in such an unacceptable way... so utterly unprofessional...

if I had touched a patient that way in a normal situation I'd have lost my licence.

God, it was just that that man really destabilised her. His eyes, his lips, his body, his arms, his skin … once she had finished with the bullet and she was sure he was going to be ok she had been invested by an unaccustomed rush of arousal, with pictures forming in her mind of her hands caressing him, her mouth tasting him and an almost uncontrollable urge to kiss him. She had been on the point of doing it when, fortunately, he had stopped her.

He has stopped me.

She thought, with a sinking feeling. Of course, it was better that way, they had a mission to accomplish which was worth their lives, they certainly could not get distracted by a physical involvement… and yet, there had been moments in which she had felt that he was changing his mind about her, that he was even beginning to like her… but he had stopped her.

Has he really?

She wasn't completely sure. With him it was impossible to say. But while she was straddling him, his beautiful face in her hands, the air had been charged with energy, as if a breath could make the balance tip one way or another. And it had tipped onto the safe side.

It was certainly for the best. She just had to stop acting like a teenager with a crush and remember that she had almost got him killed tonight.

So, sweetheart, dry your tears and get a grip.

Now if she would just manage to take a nap she was sure she'd be able to get over it and come back to her senses.


201337RJUN17

87 had dozed off almost instantly – he had got used very quickly to lying down to sleep – but it had been a strange kind of slumber: dreamless – luckily – but very shallow. He woke up when his senses alerted him about the presence of a body

Jo's body

next to him on the bed. She had slipped under the blanket that covered him

No surprise about it, the air in the room is freezing

and she was lying on her side, giving him her back. Even though their bodies weren't touching, they were so close that he could feel her warmth. He checked the time and saw that they could afford to rest another hour before setting off again. He didn't want to risk disturbing her so he kept lying on his back, just allowing his legs and shoulders to stretch a little to find a more comfortable position. As he did so, his hip touched her bottom. He froze immediately but didn't move away, the warm feeling that radiated from this unexpected contact being too pleasing to be resisted. After a few seconds Jo rolled almost imperceptibly and her back rested more fully against his side. The heat was almost overwhelming but he didn't dare to stir lest he broke the spell as he had done before. He didn't know if Jo was awake or if she was sleeping, if she had searched his contact on purpose or if her body had moved of its own free will. He didn't know and for now he didn't care, both possibilities seemed appealing to him.