A/N: Part 2. This might actually be one of those "moments of reckoning." Something I think I can safely say, we've all been waiting for.
Ch 18: Big Sky Hunting
Day 60, Tuesday February 14, 2017
I've never considered myself a whiner. Ever. It's a good way to get picked on when you're enlisted. But this dog business has me all bent out of shape. Its very presence makes my skin crawl and my anxiety on the high end. Honestly…I don't think Wallace was ever going to do anything towards me except beg for attention. But it's the principle. And sometimes, the principle is everything.
Elle is working my shoulders, and focusing back on my right hand. Plenty of conditioning and strengthening today, but getting into the finer mechanics of my injury -picking up a variety of objects, manipulating different items and so forth.
"Next one John. A little further" Elle encourages, studying the execution of the movement.
"Now reverse the direction. Excellent."
I stretch out. Outside in the hallway, I hear the rhythmic bounce of a tennis ball and heavy breathing. I can't tell if it's Chad or his overweight hound. I watch Wallace trot past the doorway, the chartreus ball clamped in his maw, a string a drool dangling.
"I don't think I've ever seen you this upset before." Elle starts, watching me watching the mutt.
"Well, it's a long story Elle."
"I don't mean about Wally. I mean this silent brooding thing. It's not very characteristic of you. It's usually more of the angry outburst, with the cursing and the swearing." She says the last part with a sarcastic flare, mocking my accent. I'll give her that one, it sounds pretty good.
"That's the smile I'm used to. Look John, I'm sorry I didn't give you a heads up sooner, had I known…"
There's a sigh, and she brushes the hair back away from her eyes.
"I'm so sorry John. Mr. Whitney had those papers in around the time you arrived here. I kind of assumed the whole anti-dog act was just a front."
"Yeah, well, Chad kind of failed to mention he was a K9 handler for the Rangers. When he was talking about his partner I assumed he was talking about another person. Not a dog."
"You know what they say about assuming." Elle starts the phrase, hands on her hips.
"Assuming makes an arse out of you and me."
"And boy, do we both feel like one right now." The way she says it manages to rouse a laugh out of me. Elle's always so down to earth, and not afraid to laugh at her own shortcomings.
"Speak for yourself Elle. I'm content with my vendetta."
"Against me, or against the dog?"
I look down at her. There might be an actual look of fear of disappointment in her eyes.
"I'll need time to figure that out. I mean, you were the one who finalized the paperwork and let that beast in here after all. Wallace didn't have a choice in the matter. Kind of like me."
"Are you trying to guilt trip me?" Elle accuses, looking astonished.
"Maybe I am?" Normally, I never have the upper hand on Elle. For once, she seems genuinely moved by the fact I'm upset with something. Funny, it didn't seem to affect her much when I refuted her tormenting me in the past.
"Don't use those baby blues on me John."
"Can't help what I'm born with."
Elle stifles her giggle, covering her mouth with her hand, but it does little to hide the smile from reaching her eyes.
"How about I try make it up to you John."
The words are foreboding, but not in a bad way. Or maybe it is in a bad way. The good kind of bad.
"And how do you plan on bribing me?"
"It's not so much of a bribe, as it is an adventure."
"An adventure?"
"How do you feel about getting clearance and seeing a bit of the world outside these stone walls?"
I couldn't quite believe what I was hearing. My life had been restricted to the courtyards and hallways of Steinn Aflinn like a damn snow globe. I was pretty much capable of taking care of my basic needs, but was still under the close watch of Elle and her therapy regiment. Every aspect of my life was controlled and confined. At least this opportunity would still have me under her control, but a long enough leash to get a taste of freedom.
"Does it come at a high price?"
"Not as much as you think."
I weight my options carefully. I feel like there has to be a catch somewhere. Good things don't to happen to guys like me. They weren't just handed out -we had to earn everything the hard way. Elle's watching me closely as I weigh my options.
"I'll give you time to think about it if you'd like."
"What day were you thinking?" I don't want to wait to make a decision. Already the taste of freedom is on the wind, much like my first day in the courtyard when it was snowing out. It was invigorating, and for the briefest moment, I had forgotten about my situation.
"How does tomorrow evening sound?"
So soon? I didn't expect such a swift response.
"Sounds like you've been planning this for a while."
"You learn to get creative during the winter months in Iceland. And I'm sure you're about sick of the same scenery around here. I'll get a few things in filled out for tomorrow."
Day 61, Wednesday February 15, 2017
Today feels almost unreal. There's still PT, but it's light and fun. I tolerate the mutt for Chad's sake, because he's a whole different person. He's still his usual asshole self but he's a lot happier. And Wallace, being the idiot that he is, is an instant chick magnet.
Elle trims up my hair with the clippers, which has become more of a non-regulation high and tight. Actually hands over the razor when I ask because I don't trust her around the highly managed beard I've been working on. I've been trying to keep it trimmed short enough where's it requires minimal maintenance but still allows me to achieve the look I want. Just because I was a shit show didn't mean I needed to look the part. There had been many times when the boys and I had plotted against Price's stache…
I spend the later afternoon hanging out with Chad and Wallace. As much as I hate dogs, I give the mutt the respect he deserves, begrudgingly of course. Even though he is what he is, he's still a veteran of the war, serving 6 years as a "Combat Engineer" -meaning he specialized in detecting IEDs, mines, clearing pathways for safe travels, and has the traditional Schutzhund protection. Also made the cut for tandem parachuting despite his grotesque size due to his excellent temperament -I can only speculate how big his previous handler had to be in order to carry him into combat zones. He's probably saved countless lives too from what Chad tells me on his background. Funny thing is, dogs don't ask for much in return.
Chad's brushing Wallace when suddenly he picks his head up, staring intently at the empty doorway.
"Whatchya hear boy? Who's coming?" He says in a low excited whisper.
Wallace sits up, alert, ready to bolt into the hall. Suddenly, he didn't quite look the dopey mongrel he exuded. I recognize the voice and laughter belonging to Elle before she knocks at the door.
"Evening boys."
"Get her Wally." Chad releases the shepherd from work mode and into play. Just from the way he gets to his feet it's more relaxed than the silent tension he was displaying a moment ago. Wallace greets Elle as she comes through the doorway, to which she crouches down and starts rubbing her hands all through his coat. He flops his big head in her lap, hamming it up. No wonder he likes her, he's got his nose in her nether regions and gets away with it too.
"Hi Wally boy!" Elle praises, giving him equal amount of affection.
"You boys all getting along?"
"Regular Kumbaya in here. I'm trying to desensitize Johnny-boy here to dogs. He still hasn't pet him yet."
"It'll be a while before we get there Chad. You should be grateful I've tolerate our mutual existence in the same room for as long as I have." 3 hours and 17 minutes to be exact. Wallace looks right at me when he hears my voice. He's been anxious for me to pet him almost as badly as Whitney has.
"Don't pay attention to him Wally," Elle starts cooing to the shepherd, scratching on the sides of his face,
"He's just likes to act tough."
I do right by myself and hold my tongue. This wasn't exactly the kind of moment where you mention that you may, or may-not-have broken a dog's neck before as it was inches from tearing your throat out.
"Ready to get going John?"
"It's about time I buggered out of here. Chad, as always, it's been a pleasure." I extend my hand out for a shake, the Ranger returning the gesture in kind. Wallace, giving a whining bark, abandons Elle and shoves his way between Whitney and myself. Damn dog was jealous, and just looks at me, wanting to be pet.
"No." I point a finger at the mutt.
"Johnny-boy, it's been real. Maybe tomorrow I can get you to at least throw the ball for him."
"We'll see how I feel in the morning. Don't expect miracles overnight."
"I don't. Not out of you." Chad chuckles, giving Wallace a hard rub down that puts him into a submissive belly rub.
Approx 1700 hrs
Elle's gone all out for tonight. I get a new temporary ID, similar to that of a passport, but with a bunch of gibberish that basically says I'm a ward of Steinn Aflinn. I'm their physical property. I don't foresee any problems from the local population or authority here, but it's good to know if something were to happen, I have a "return to sender" addressed attached to me.
She changes into something beside her favorite style of grey scrubs. One of those heavy knit dress things, maroon colored, that you see girls wear with the black pant looking things. Leggings? Jeggings? Yoga pants? Whatever they were called. The kind us guys appreciate because it does little to hide the assets -but her dress covers down almost to her knees. Everything gets draped over by her bright blue parka that's lined by white fur.
And I get my first set of casual clothes. You get your basic attire much like the military supplies to you while you are at the hospital. For the lot of us who've been through the ringer, there would be no shame in carousing the public space in a ragged t-shirt with your last name stamped on the back and a decommissioned pair of ripped and stained BDU pants for the extra cargo space. There was a time and place for that. But when you're getting your first look at life outside the neat little bubble you've been trapped in, it doesn't hurt to make a good first impression. A new pair of lined denim jeans, heavy white long sleeve, the comfiest pair of socks I've had since I that time I stockpiled a bunch in Russia one year, and appropriately enough, a nice pair of black issued boots, most importantly -winter proof. It's all covered under a housing stipend the hospital has set up while they manage the sick and wounded. No doubt she did the sizing because it's all a decent fit. She's had the tendency to spoil me as far back as I can recall.
It feels strange standing in the main lobby and signing out in a ledger. Just like old times when we'd sign out of Hereford on liberty. It's almost surreal when we step out into the cold night air and I see the front façade of Steinn Aflinn for the first time. It's a grand structure, spanning out a lot further than I had initially mapped. In the distance I see the slow blinking red aircraft warning lights of the two towers I remember from my first night out in the courtyard. I can make out civilization over the rolling hills by the faint halo of orange and yellowish light. There's no snowfall, no clouds, and the sky is sharp with stars.
I follow Elle through the parking lot to her car -a Jeep Wrangler Rubicon edition, obnoxiously blue. She laughs and tells me it makes it easier for her to find when the parking lot is full, and the four-wheel drive and high clearance are perfect for the crazy snowfall. I tease her about all the fluff and luxuries of her Jeep by comparison to the bare bones nature of combat vehicles. We're on the road for a while until the city comes into view. Elle calls it Reykjavík, the capitol city of Iceland. It's beautiful from the distance, and remarkable once inside. I realize how out touch I am with society, or with people in general. The hospital has been a controlled stable environment, with the usual staff coming and going. It's almost overwhelming now, between the all vehicles and the high volume of pedestrian traffic. But Elle sticks right by my side and navigates the city streets like a natural.
She takes me to a small place I would classify as a pub -almost a hole in the wall with low light, cozy atmosphere, and most importantly good food and drinks. Elle translates the menu and gives her best recommendations. And thanks to Elle's regular home cooking and leftovers, I've been acclimated to Iceland cuisine, it's not such a shock to the system.
Our conversation hits a different level. Maybe it's the change of environment, or maybe it's the influence of a little beer, but I never recall seeing Elle so relaxed and laughing like she is now. She's definitely in her element at the hospital, but out here I see her in a whole new way. I ask a little about her personal life -parents, home, what school was like for her and her high education in the pursuit of nursing. Her real name is "Elliot" Hallkelldóttir -and I get a whole lesson on surnames. She's got a younger brother by 2 years named Aron, both parents still around, and both grandparents on both sides. Family with a history rooted in agriculture, and her father being the trailbreaker as a vet that turned Elle towards the medical field. In turn she asks me about my own past -and not just my decorated military career that I pretense with the fact I'm still piecing it together. It's pretty complete at this point thanks to story time with Chad.
There wasn't much to my home life, or rather, not much I wanted to discuss about my home life with anyone for that fact, and Elle doesn't press it. Over the years, the military had become my new family, and the people in it far more interesting than what my tiny hometown in Scotland had to offer. She enjoys the stories about my service with the 22nd and One-Four-One, or moreover, the shenanigans. Like that time Roach thought using his service pistol was a good idea for putting a new hole in the barracks wall for the satellite TV. Or when Rocket, Driver and Marlin spent a whole week plotting to try to scare Ghost, and were successful when they discovered our most lethal member was afraid of snakes.
Before we head back to her vehicle, Elle stops by a small café shop of sorts and buys something that's served hot in a large bottle, and tells me the night out isn't quite finished yet. Dinner was just to hold us over for the main event, which leads us back towards Steinn Aflinn, but down to a more isolated section of road that shrouds the city and its overwhelming lights behind the rolling horizon. When she places her vehicle in park overlooking a desolate black patch of land, I understand what this whole adventure was about.
"Isn't it gorgeous?"
Elle had a soft spot for star gazing. Living on a not-so-densely populated rock has its advantages -being able to enjoy the crisp clarity of viewing the night sky with little interference from society. I wasn't much for star gazing in the sense like Elle did, but there's something we share in common when I start listing off the visible constellations and specific star names. In the military, as much as the modern person would sluff off good old fashion celestial navigation, a solid working knowledge could prove to be invaluable when all your electronics went dark in the field. The subtle wobble of Polaris, azimuth and altitude, knowing your northern and southern hemispheres with their nuances. Elle brings her passion for the legends and mythology behind it, and I bring the practical usage. Her favorite constellation is Orion, with his iconic belt and ironically enough tag-along star Sirius, the dog constellation. Acclaimed hunter and once said to be the most handsome man that ever lived. A true romanticists dream.
When the window fogs over from all the conversation, she rolls down the window a touch and kicks on the defrosters, clearing the view. The select beverage she's brought along is hot cider, and after doing a little research, she discovered my affinity towards good bourbon.
"Today's the day I thought I'd never see. You actually allowing me have alcohol. Serving it even."
Elle's mixed up a simple cocktail I've never had. Cider wasn't my thing. I always went straight for the bottle, and the only thing I've ever served it with was ice.
"Well, we're heading into week ten. I think it's cause for a little celebration."
The combination with a spicy spiked beverage served hot is enjoyable in a way I wouldn't have first thought. Kind of like starting your morning off with an Irish coffee.
"I could have used one of these back in December."
"The last thing you needed was to mix painkillers and booze."
"It's not booze, it's bourbon. It's in a whole different class." She didn't skimp on the quality either. Elle went straight for the top shelf.
"You are ridiculous John." Elle has her drink clutched to her chest and under nose, the steam warming up her face.
"So, which one is your favorite?"
I take a tactical pause and really think her question over. Often, I was too distracted to think about the fun things in life, especially once I had made Captain. Caught up too much in my responsibilities and a world that was at war for far too long.
"Hm. Taurus."
"How suiting. Not everyone is so lucky to live in a place where they get to see their zodiac so often."
Mentioning the zodiac brings back a brief moment of tension when I think of the Stranger that fancied herself as Capricorn. The seagoat. And her existence and intentions almost as mysterious as the creation of the galaxy. I push the thought from my mind, because I wasn't about to let the old hag ruin one of the best nights I've had in a long time.
"Never thought of it that way. Which one's yours?"
"It's Virgo, but with the long day light hours during the spring and summer, you hardly get to see it."
"You never did tell me when your birthday is." I remind her, dating back to our conversation that almost felt like a lifetime ago.
"Well, you should be able to figure it out from here. You're smart enough, use your resources John."
"I never said I wasn't smart. I'm just being practical. Why waste the effort when you can get the information directly from the horse's mouth?"
Elle laughs, taking another sip from her drink before setting it on the dash.
"You're so blunt."
"I don't believe in tip-toeing around the sensitive subjects. It's never been my style. I've dealt with too many fucking secrets that got a lot of good people in trouble, compared to if they just came outright and said what they fucking meant." I said it in the most matter of fact way, but the alcohol has a way of loosening the tongue.
"Tell me how you really feel John!" She's laughing again, her cheeks and nose pink between the cold and the bourbon.
"I'll tell you exactly how I feel. Ask away."
Elle's got that look in her eyes, and I know she wants to ask something inappropriate. Not that there was anything between us we probably hadn't already discussed, or any part of my physical being Elle hadn't violated in some way, shape, or form during my rehabilitation. Had I met her during my tours with the 141, she probably would have fit right in with the rest of the guys.
But it's not what she doesn't ask me. It's what she does next.
-A/N: [Because I've waited 42,105 words to get to this point -and that's about 90 pages]-
Elle leans in, but I couldn't tell you who made the first move. Because all I can think about, above anything else, is how amazing her mouth tastes. It's not just the hint of cinnamon and bourbon, or the sweetness of the apples. It's when she exhales, and I can't get enough of her scent. It's that familiar taste that hits me deep down inside that reminds me how starving I really am.
When she pulls back, it's just enough so she can bite her lower lip to wet it before she goes back in for seconds. She's on her knees in the bucket seat, her hands around my shoulders and running up the back of my neck.
All I can hear is her breathing, and somewhere in between she's moaning my name. Someone's name. I honestly don't care at this point. I get that awful feeling, the one that leaves me feeling stupid and speechless with my mind focused only on one thing.
Elle breaks it off, coming up for air, her hot breath rising in the cold night.
"What do you think about that?"
Because I know it's all a set up. And I really don't care. I'd probably confess to just about to anything right now.
I study her face. I look into her big blue doe eyes with those sweeping dark lashes. The trembling bottom lip that's just begging to be bit. Because I know once this threshold is crossed, we were past the point of no return. This wasn't exactly the most opportune time for critical thinking, about what this really meant. What this could become between us. I'm one mouthful away from saying something stupid.
"I think…"
I can't concentrate when I watch the subtle flutter in her throat when she swallows, her teeth rolling back over her bottom lip.
"I don't know what to think."
She whispers,
"Then don't."
A/N: Mind. Blown. I can't believe I even just wrote all that. If you really want to set the mood, I suggest playing Carnivàle's "Rita Sue and Jonesy" for the background.
I hope I did justice to this story, to this pairing, because it's not easy to get your readers to accept, or embrace OC's. Make it something believable, something tangible.
And yes, I really did word count the core story. I hope you all enjoyed this chapter as much as I did!