PART II

Joanne was practically bouncing around the clinic, anticipating Julian Holmes' appointment in less than fifteen minutes. Vigorously going over the exam room, front desk area and waiting room, she checked and double checked that all was in order as she tidied up, putting away stray papers and organizing even the smallest clutter .

It was the end of the day, and he was scheduled again as the last patient. As before, the building was empty of patients and staff, save for Joanne and the doctor, who was again back in his office typing out his notes.

The butterflies in her stomach returned. What was it about Julian Holmes? He was certainly attractive. Although much older than Jo, age was just a number as far as she was concerned. Remembering their conversation a week ago, she could hear his refined, cultured voice, and picture the vast intelligence behind those eyes.

It was that very intelligence that made her self-conscious. Not one to be eloquent in either speech or dress, Joanne felt inadequate in his presence, and prayed she wouldn't say or do anything stupid as she usually seemed to around those she wanted to make a good impression on.

Movement outside the window caught her attention. The cab was pulling up now. He had mentioned at the end of his last visit that he took a small boat from Patos Island up in the northern Puget Sound to Edmonds, and from there caught the cab to and from the marina.

Wanting to go out and see Julian in, she decided against it as he had again brought his assistant, and were currently making their way to the up the steps. It wouldn't do to appear too eager. Instead, she greeted them, opening the door.

"Julian! Henry! Nice to see you guys again. How's that foot?"

Inwardly cringing as soon as the words were out of her mouth, she realized it wasn't professional to discuss his medical condition in front of others, even though it appeared Julian had known Henry for a long time. She assumed he knew all about it anyway, yet it was best not to say too much, in case his employer had chosen to reveal only the bare minimum.

And she had called these two elegant men 'guys'. Ughhh!

Appearing not to notice her gaff, Julian smiled tightly, his bearing even more reserved than last time. He seemed preoccupied with something.

"Good evening, Miss Hartwell," was all he said in greeting, shaking her hand briskly. Something had changed, but she had no idea what. His dark eyes were guarded as he studied her. "The pain is much better today, thank you."

He was again immaculately dressed in a three piece suit. A gold chain instead of silver now adorned the pocket watch fob, which was a stunning onyx encrusted with tiny diamonds. The seductive fragrance was the same as she remembered, the subtle colors and textures of it stirring her senses. She had meant to ask him if it was his soap, cologne or both; but the closed look on his face kept her silent.

What was it about this man that affected her so? Those piercing eyes, his exotic scent and refined, genteel manner, as well as the air of danger and intrigue that surrounded him. Although fifteen years older than Joanne, she found herself smitten. Which was why his current attitude bothered her more than she cared to admit.

Henry was on his phone texting the moment he sat down. He had been glued to the thing the last time they were here as well, Joanne mused. For the second time, the thought occurred to her that he really was more than just Julian's arranger of transport, as her patient had stated earlier.

Bringing him back to the exam room, she again settled him in the chair, and entered his notes in the computer. Keeping the conversation to a bare minimum, she stuck to only pertinent information regarding his gouty foot and arthritis, while pondering questions of a different kind.

She could feel his eyes boring into her back as she typed. Whatever was on his mind involved her, she was sure of it.

About to ask the man if anything was wrong, Dr. Packman entered the room before Joanne could address him again, and didn't get the opportunity to do so until afterwards.

"I'd like to see you again for that arthrogram, now that the inflammation has gone down," said the doctor. "My nurse will apply one last soft cast, and get you scheduled for next week."

'I'm not a nurse', she thought. 'Just a lowly MA, and a mediocre one at that.' Her mood was soured by Julian's cold demeanor tonight.

Something had definitely changed, and it involved her somehow. What had she done wrong now? They had parted on such good terms the last time.

Joanne said nothing as she applied the three wrap bandage, avoiding Julian's intense gaze.

"Is there something wrong, Miss Hartwell?" he asked.

She paused. All manner of thoughts and questions flew through her head. No sense beating about the bush, she thought. Better to be direct and to the point.

"I was going to ask you the same question, Mr. Holmes," she replied, reverting back to a formal address. Until she knew what she had done wrong, she didn't want be too familiar.

Julian appeared to consider his next words carefully. "There is a matter of importance that has been on my mind, Joanne, but I do not wish to discuss it here. Tell me, are you free the rest of the evening?"

Her hands froze, scissors and tape poised in midair. "Why? I mean.. what's it about?" she faltered.

Softening only slightly, Julian continued, "It's a subject that's best discussed in a different setting, perhaps over a meal? You intrigue me, Miss Hartwell. There has come to light, however, something of a personal nature that I would like to discuss."

"Personal. What about? Me? I don't.. How..." Joanne wasn't good at this. Not at all.

"Ah. Yes, well. I've done a little research, you see. As I said, it's best to discuss these matters in a more.. relaxed atmosphere. "

Joanne was feeling anything but relaxed. 'I knew it!' her mind shrieked. Her intuition was always right about these things.

"I estimate that there are at least four hours of daylight left. The marina is only a few minutes from here. We can have a meal at the restaurant there, and afterwards, a walk along the pier. Only if you are free, of course."

Only if you are free. How could she not be, after this little revelation? What did he know? Whatever it was, it was this that put him on guard tonight.

"I'm free after we're done here, yes. I just need to clean up and finish the closing duties." She was always free. After work. On her days off.. Always. Alone.

"I assume I am the last patient?"

Joanne nodded.

"Excellent! Henry and I will wait for you outside. Let me know when you are almost finished so that Henry may call the cab."

He didn't even ask how long it would take. Somehow this made Jo feel worse. This was serious, whatever it was.

Luckily it had been slow towards the afternoon, and she'd finished the end of the day chores earlier. All that was left was to take out the trash and clean the grinder room where the orthotics were modified.

"I won't be long, just a couple of things. Maybe 10 minutes?"

Suddenly her eyes flew open, remembering.

"Wait! I don't have anything to wear!" she exclaimed, indicating her scrubs. "I'm not dressed for eating out - I came to work in these."

Shaking his head, Julian stated that it would be no problem. "Yours is a respectable profession, and I'm sure no one will have a problem with your uniform."

Under other circumstances, she was sure he would have had her driven home to change, given his impeccable dress and air of respectability. He was clearly anxious to discuss something. It was obviously important to him, but it couldn't be good for her. Julian was distant tonight, the conversation short and brusque.

Bidding the doctor goodnight, she gathered her things and went to join the men in the waiting cab outside.

The cab dropped them off in front of Arnie's restaurant on the Edmonds waterfront. The smell of frying fish was the first thing to hit Joanne, followed by the buzz of hungry diners as they formed a line out the door waiting to be seated. She could only imagine what it was like on the inside. Being dinner time and early summer, the place was packed, mostly with tourists. Joanne hoped they could find a more secluded spot, as large crowds didn't agree with her. A slight breeze whipped up, and she shivered, pulling the coat tighter around her.

Julian noticed her discomfort, and guided her inside past the line. It seemed a reservation had already been made as Henry came forward with the manager of the place, no less. They were led upstairs towards a corner seat on the side, overlooking the entire marina and boardwalk. It struck Joanne that their half of the room was entirely devoid of any customers.

"Guess no one wants to eat on our side here," she quipped. "Strange, considering it has the best view."

Julian smiled. "As I stated earlier, our discussion requires privacy, and I took the liberty of booking the entire half of this section. We will not be disturbed."

"This was you?!" Joanne gasped. The man had influence wherever he went, it seemed. Somewhere in the back of her mind, she wondered how he had known she would say yes, and that she would join him tonight. A reservation like this would need to be booked days ahead.

Julian raised a knowing eyebrow, saying nothing.

She didn't want to know how much this must have cost him. Noting the almost reverential treatment by the manager and staff, she figured it must have been quite considerable. She hoped he would at least let her pay the tip.

"Where's Henry?", she asked, wondering where he'd gone.

"He's having supper on the boat," Julian replied. "Like you and myself, he is not fond of large groups."

"How did you know I don't like them?" And how did you know days in advance that I wouldn't have plans tonight? She kept that last to herself.

"By your initial reaction when I asked if you would care to join me during our last encounter. There was a trace of panic in your eyes, and confirmed again on approaching the thronging multitudes outside the door downstairs."

She shook her head. Was she so obvious? And yet, Joanne had sensed that he knew and observed more than the casual person.

They engaged in small talk until the main meal was brought, as well as a chilled bottle of white wine. Knowing how much he must have spent already, she had tried to order the cheapest thing on the menu. Of course, Julian noticed and told her to order whatever she wanted.

"There is no need to be economical when you are with me, Joanne."

He glanced up from his menu. "Stop thinking about it," he said, reading her mind.

Being as economical as she was, it was hard. She wasn't used to being pampered or spoiled. Being on disability and working part time, 'cheap' and 'cost effective' where bywords to her. Not wanting to upset him further or embarrass herself, she chose the baked salmon. The entrée was only a step or two up price wise, but she wouldn't be talked out of it. Joanne wasn't too keen on seafood, and salmon or trout were possibly the only things she considered appetizing. Unfortunately, her little problem affected the palate, as well. Ha! He hadn't foreseen that!

Her small victory was short lived when he brought the conversation around to the topic that had brought them here. The fish suddenly tasted like sawdust. Pouring a tall glass of wine, she kept the bottle close at hand. Not even a light drinker, she figured it would be needed tonight.

"Now, to the matter at hand," he said.

Here it comes..

"I've taken the liberty of reviewing your military files. You had an interesting career there. Why did you leave?" His eyes pierced hers, testing her. If she told even a half truth, he would know. There was no hiding anything from Julian Holmes.

Slowly putting her fork down, she took a sip of wine. "You accessed my files. Everything?" He nodded.

"Then you know what happened and how that ended." She wasn't expecting what came next.

"Are you an addict, Miss Hartwell?"

"NO!" she almost yelled. A nearby waiter discreetly made a beeline for the door.

Julian said nothing, waiting.

How best to explain what happened? Her thoughts whirred.

"How much do you know about opiates, Mr. Holmes?"

Julian wasn't expecting a question. The fingers steepled under his chin.

"In what way, Joanne? I am assuming you are referring to how they act on the body."

She nodded. "Yes. You ask if I'm an addict. No, I'm not, but yes, I am. I also assume you obtained a copy of my medical files, and not just the paperwork regarding the details of my separation from the Navy?"

"Quite so. In fact, I have on hand your entire history; medical, as well as the military reports. I found it interesting that you had worked for the Central Intelligence Agency while in Guantanamo." Admiration shone briefly in his eyes.

"Yes, for one day. Or night rather. I can't talk about that. It was boring anyway - just some paperwork." Considering this man was high up in his own government, and with connections to her own, no less, she deemed it prudent to say little about what was involved.

Julian smiled. Apparently she passed test number one. In any government, there were always secrets, though Joanne was sure he knew all about that mission. She had been on duty that night, when the CIA officials had come into the hospital. Paperwork for physical exams had needed to be filled out for four foreign dignitaries due to arrive there the next day. As head of the Immunization Clinic at the time, the task fell to her and a few other colleagues with her. She wasn't even sure who the physicals were for, only that they were from Afghanistan. Joanne had no idea what else that mission might have involved or why officials from that country had been flown to GTMO. She had always wondered.

"Mr. Holmes-"

"Call me Julian, please. Go on."

"Why do you have my files? I know its not classified, but it really is a breach of my privacy. I mean.. just.. why?" What else could she say?

"You intrigue me, Joanne. Especially your ear for languages. More about that later. You were about to say something?" He wouldn't let this drop.

"It's a long story, Julian, and we'd be here all night. In a nutshell, I injured my back. I was put on low dose opiates. I knew, based on drug addiction in my family, that I would be susceptible to the same, and thought by taking another form of what I was on, I could avoid that."

Taking a deep breath, Joanne explained all she knew about the physiology of the drugs, their affects and interactions, and that by taking two similar kinds on alternate days, the risk of addiction would be cut in half. Unfortunately at the time, she didn't know the commander had ordered an even more detailed urinalysis to detect both. Normally, it would have only caught the one that she was taking on prescription.

"And did you explain this to the jurors at the trial?" he prompted.

"No. It was office politics, nothing more. It was common fact that commander had her favorites, and I was not one of them. Others at the time had also gotten kicked out because of her. My ex at the time encouraged me to say nothing, so I didn't. We didn't know about the further break down of components in the test. You know the rest. The trial went forward, and they all agreed for dishonorable discharge."

"And yet, it came back General under Honorable."

"Someone must have read my medical record and figured I wasn't lying about my back, and other issues. I still get migraines from it. Personally I thought it was a miracle."

Julian was quiet for a time while they finished their meal, each thinking their own thoughts. He seemed satisfied with her answer; she hoped he was, because, as shameful as it had all been, it was at least the truth.

The waiter cleared the dishes away, while another took their dessert order. As soon as they left, Julian had one more question.

"You are currently taking the same prescription. Tell me, do you still obtain the other to avoid addiction to the first?"

Joanne wavered. This man had had her military files pulled and who knew what else. Probably he could have her bank statements pulled as well, going back years. If she lied now, she sensed he would be done with her and go his own way, never to see her again. Possibly never returning to the clinic..

Returning his intense gaze with her own, she said, "Again, yes and no. I do have some of the other I ordered from the UK earlier this year. I keep it as a reserve only. Yes, in a way it is as an addict would act. I don't even know myself. I keep it in case.."

"In case what?" he probed.

She shook her head. "I really don't know. In case I should run out of the prescription? It's not even that much in a box, and only one is allowed per order. I order them maybe once a year. You can check for yourself if you like. I've only used maybe four." She could indeed picture Julian ordering a search of her apartment without a warrant.

Sweat ran down her back. This was an interrogation, pure and simple, though for what, she had no idea. All that mattered was that she tell the truth. Who the hell was this guy?! And why dredge up her sordid past now?

"You're right, possibly I'm addicted to them, but I do know one thing: should they be taken away, the pain from the back and resulting migraines would be unbearable." That really was the truth. Degenerative arthritis had also set in along the spine where the injury was.

"Please, are we done, now? I've been as honest as I can, and I don't know what this is all about. Why this interrogation? Because that's exactly what this is. As you know, I've been through this before."

Julian sat back in the chair, seeming to relax. "Yes, it was. And you told the truth, this time around." The painful part of the questions appeared to be over.

"And this was important, why?" she pressed. What was going on?

The waiter came back with the dessert: apple pie for Julian and a slice of cheesecake for Jo. She hoped the rest of the evening would also be sweeter than the main course.

"I have a younger cousin like you. Sherlock. He is an addict, but like the others in our family who bear the Holmes name, he is also a genius. His attitude and disposition are quite the opposite of yours, but in many ways, you are similar. It is a shame to hear about his binges from his older brother from time to time. Such intellect does not need drugs to function."

"So I remind you of this guy, so what? Why go to all the trouble digging up my past? There's more to it than that, I know it!"

The hands were back under his chin again as he eyed her with renewed interest. "And you would be right. Again, so perceptive, just like Sherlock. His brother Mycroft is the same, though he is much less emotional."

"I resent that! I'm not emotional. I just want to know what's going on. Well?"

Julian didn't reply immediately. Savoring a few bites of pie, he put his fork down. "I needed to know if what I suspected about you was true."

"That being?"

"You are a low level genius as well. Not as high as a Holmes, of course, but in the lower 130's, I'd wager. You, like my cousins, fall somewhere on the Autistic spectrum. How do I know this? Your higher than average perceptibility and natural distrust of people, you have ear for languages, and a unique brand of honesty. Again, very much like my cousins."

"Honesty has nothing to do with having a genius intellect," she countered.

"Doesn't it? You knew to tell me the truth. You knew I was testing you, even if you weren't sure why."

"And I still don't." Possibly she was failing another test here, but at the moment, a migraine was fast approaching and she just wanted this man to be honest with her. He cocked his head to the side, assessing her.

"You're getting a headache, aren't you? I am sorry Joanne, I never meant to you hurt you. But honesty is something I value above all else in a relationship. Embarking on friendship with a Holmes demands it, and nothing less. Do you understand?"

He looked genuinely distressed for being the cause of her pain. "I had to know if you would tell me the truth, as hard as that was. You can also keep a secret," he added, referring to the one off CIA assignment. There was a new, playful gleam in his eyes.

"Yes, yes," she replied, her right hand moving to the side of her head as it always did when she was stressed. A roaring noise filled her ears. "Can we go for that walk now? Or is there anything else you need to ask? If so, I want to request bringing this wine home." She was only half joking.

The gleam disappeared. "No, you will not," he stated, moving the bottle out of her reach. "But yes, a bit of fresh air will do us both some good." He looked concerned now, as her head was still cradled in her hand. "Do you have your medication with you?" he asked gently.

She did, but would have died before taking it in front of Julian after the discussion they'd just had. "Fine. I'm fine." She looked up, bringing her hand back to her lap. "Hey, can I at least get the tip?" she asked.

He glared at her. "No."

Julian left to pay the bill, while Joanne fixed her gaze on the beautiful sunset outside the expansive window. OK. Get it together, Jo. You passed his test. Let's hope that's the end of THAT.

She tried to calculate how much time she had left to sneak a migraine pill, but thought better of it. It would be her luck that he'd return just she was fishing it out of her backpack - better not to risk it. Taking deep breaths, she continued focusing on the sunset outside the window. It was how she dealt with her Synesthesia, and yes, mild autism that he had correctly surmised. During a sensory overload, she tried to focus on one thing. At the moment, it was her thoughts and emotions that were overwhelmed. Breathe. Focus. Breathe.

Not having been formally diagnosed with anything except that vague title, Joanne had no idea where exactly she fell on the autism scale. Possibly Asperger's, but very mild. She was ok in social situations, as long as the number of people stayed under three. Working in the medical field over twenty years had helped her social skills to deal with her patients. It was groups she disliked, intensely so.

She'd gotten herself mostly together by the time Julian returned.

Noting her slight pallor, he offered her his arm as she rose from the table. He did not let her go as they continued walking along the pier and boardwalk.

The wind was brisk and cold now, and felt good against her heated skin. The sun hovered above the horizon, painting the sky orange and yellow. An eagle sat preening on one of the pylons, and gulls flew intermittently overhead. She wished the earlier conversation had not happened at all, or at least, gone better. Considering her arm was still tucked into Julian's, maybe it had.

His earlier words came back to her. Friendship with a Holmes.

Friends.

Did she want this? She barely knew him, but then, wasn't that how most friendships began? Joanne could count on one hand the number of friends she had. A small number it was true, but they were good ones.

At the moment, he certainly knew more about her than she did him. And yet, it was because of that fear of losing their nascent friendship that she had told him everything. The truth.

His exotic scent drifted to her, born on the light breeze and proximity of his body to hers. "Soap, cologne, or both?" she asked.

His arm tightened around hers. "You have a keen sense of smell, as well. Also like Sherlock. I really should introduce you one day. Or possibly to his older brother, Mycroft.." A calculating expression had settled upon his features.

"In answer to your question, it is both. The cologne is actually a mix of oils from Greece and Turkey. It is my own brand that I have made up in there and shipped to my home, oh, twice a year or so. The soap is also specially made, but it comes from Israel. It is an olive oil soap mixed with various other oils and perfumes from that region. It includes salt from the Dead Sea."

The temperature was dropping considerably now that the sun had set. She scooted closer to him to share his body heat. Normally, Joanne disliked physical contact with anyone except the geese, even her parents. Yet with Julian, she almost craved it. She had no idea why.

His head bent low to hers. "I detect the scent of Jasmine. Soap, not perfume. There is also something Oriental about it." He paused. "It suits you."

Straightening once more, he gazed out over the water.

"It's Jasmine. Beeflower brand, made in Shanghai. I order it on Amazon or EBay, whatever's cheapest at the time. Sometimes I can get a knockoff of the same from the Asian market down the street.. when it's in stock, anyway." Joanne couldn't believe they was discussing soap brands and scents right after that excruciating dinner conversation..

They continued on. "Would you like to see the boat?" he asked.

"Of course. Where is it moored?"

"Just over there," he said, indicating a long line of slips a few yards away. In them were docked many boats and yachts of all sizes. She wondered which one was his.

Julian paused. "Joanne. There is something else I'd like to discuss with you..."

Oh no. Not again. This time though, there was a softness in his voice, as though she would have the opportunity to turn this request down and he wouldn't hold it against her. Curious, she nodded.

"It's regarding your diagnosis at the age of five", he ventured.

Ah. That. As difficult as it would be to actually explain, the subject itself was benign enough. Joanne figured she could easily get through that one without a headache.

Taking a breath, the words were on her tongue when Henry came strolling down the pier toward them.

"Sir, are you ready to take the lady home for the evening?" He must have thought they were on their way to the boat to find him for that reason.

Julian appeared miffed and was not to be rushed. "Not quite yet, Henry. I'd like to show Miss Hartwell the boat, if you don't mind."

"As you wish, Sir," he replied, and turning around, led them to the boat.