A/N: Hey everyone, I apologize with the major hiatus. Work, Destiny, and more all-consuming work killed my creative streak. I also rewrote this chapter like…countless times. I scrapped, re-scrapped, obliterated, and started over more than I'd like to admit. Trying to follow up with Big Sky Hunting was one of the hardest chapters to write, and decide what was the best course of action for our dear John.

With this hurtle out of the way, I hope to get this story re-rolling. Enjoy!

Ch 20: Play with Fire, Expect to get Burned

Hindsight's always 20-20. I don't know if I actually could've handled a one-on-one session with Elle just yet. The work environment was not the proper place to discuss personal matters.

Jakob's got me working on a combination of hand strength exercises and speed drills. It's one thing to get everything moving again. It's a whole different level to restore everything to working order with the speed and dexterity of a normal person. I felt good going into the situation until I started dropping everything halfway through. Today it was only small wooden blocks, coins, silverware, and a small weighted ball filled with sand. Another day it could very well be my sidearm on a draw, or a magazine on a reload. A knife when I needed it the most. There would be no way they'd ever let me back, not in this condition. And I wouldn't be able to blame them either.

The more I think about it, the angrier I get. The angrier I get, the more frustrated I get. And the more frustrated I get, the more I lose focus and drop things.

In a lapse of my better, calmer, judgement, the box of miscellaneous items finds itself scattered across the floor of the small room.

Jakob scoffs out a mild chuckle.
"You done for today John?"

"I was done forty minutes ago. What the hell did you expect?" I find myself snapping at him. It's not completely unjustified, but he knew that I had hit a wall at least thirty minutes ago and yet had insisted on continuing.

"Elle said you'd need a push today." Jakob's smiling, as if he knows something I don't.

"Did she now?" There's a bit of spite in my words. I don't know if Jakob picked up on that.

"She did. She said, and I quote, 'I need you to keep John focused today, he's got a lot going on in his mind.'"

"She would know that, wouldn't she?" I think it, but I mutter it out loud under my breath with a grudge.

"Elle's worried about you." He states, finishing out his assessment report on the clipboard.
"She's afraid of letting you down."

The sincerity of the candid remark catches me off guard. I knew Elle and Jakob were close. No doubt she confided in him. But Elle seemed so confident. Like last night. There was no doubt, no apprehension, no fear. Jakob tucks his pen back in his shirt pocket and gets up to add the form to the growing stacks of papers in my personal file.

Later that evening… 2030hrs

At this point the television was only background noise while I worked on my journal, or rather, decorated the pages. Sometimes after a rather arduous day of P.T., I didn't exactly feel like dedicating my remaining conscious to exploring the wreck that I dared called my mind. I had initially started off clocking in another chapter of The Plague Dogs, but when I found myself rereading the same paragraph three times over, then stumbling through the fourth attempt, I closed the cover of one book an opened another.

I had opted to illustrate some of my daily entries. It not only provided a break from the focus I used to write legibly, but it utilized a completely different skill set that required dexterity.

And this evening's choice subject was an attempt to capture the fleeting burn from last night.

I'll admit, it wasn't my best work, but I felt confident that the likeness was there. It had been a while since I had dared to sketch a face -a portrait none the less- but over the course of the past few months I had been dabbling in quick drafts, then refined the images later. Tonight's high-strung frustration had manifested itself in a full page rendition.

I hold my journal up to take a moment to admire my own work. Normally I'd fuss over the details, but it's all there -a subtle smile, tussled curls, the spark in the eyes. And yet the same soft demeanor radiates like she's some sort of Virgin Mary.

"Hi John."

Elle's voice is collected. The excited chipper notes are reined in by self-control, but there's nothing that hides her smile. It pulls me back into the present world. I hate to admit it, but she's snuck up on me. She must be off duty because she's out of her usual grey scrubs and wearing casual attire. A cozy navy blue turtleneck, and black pants of some sort that hug her figure tight, the blue parka is draped over a forearm.

I clear my throat before I acknowledge her, closing my journal.
"Elliot."

Elle balks, and suddenly her face is a few shades flushed. I can't say if it's from flattery or embarrassment.
"No one's called me that in a long time. I told you that in confidence."

"And it still is. You don't like it?"

"I don't mind it." She's definitely flustered because she's avoiding eye contact now.
"Only my family has ever called me by my full name. How was your session with Jakob today? I'm sorry I missed out."

"Frustrating. Though I'm sure you already knew that." She's quick to change topics.

"What's that supposed to mean?" Elle asks as she comes closer. She drags over one of the short-wheeled stools and takes a seat right next to me. Now that we're eye to eye, I get a real good look at the chafe Whitney had made a big deal about. The tip of her nose and chin are bright pink.

"You and Jakob are like this." I cross my fingers and hold it up in her face, reveling in the amused glare Elle gives me before swatting my hand away.

"And is there a problem with that?"

Of course there wasn't. I'm rather surprised she came by to make idle chit-chat, but I'm about to call her bluff and end the charade. I open up the delivery with a sigh as I contemplate my end objective.

"I just don't understand why you'd come all the way down here after your shift, to ask me about something you already know the answer to."

"Back to Mr. No-nonsense I see. Maybe I wanted to hear it from you directly."

"I told you I like to be straight forward."

"Do you?" She raises an eye brow with a smile I could describe only as mischievous.
"Because you were rather coy last night."

Wow.

Out of left field, and a complete blindside. Pretty sure my jaw just went slack too. I feel a little spite, and a frustration of a different kind getting the better of me.

"That's called self-restraint, Elle." I correct her. The words manage to come out in a tempered tone, thankfully.

I didn't need to be reminded of what I didn't do. Not only was I getting the backlash from Whitney, but apparently now Elle too. If anyone had the right to complain though, it should be her.

She leans in closer, and her laugh is playful. And suddenly I'm very aware of her knee pressed against my calf.
"Is that what you call it?"

"Elle, we need to talk."

…

I try to gauge the expression on her face as the weight of my words sink in. She hardly seems phased, at first only responding with a full fledged smile as she stares back.

"What is there to talk about?"

She wets her lips. Giving me that look again.

…

Because I'm too stupid to say no. And I got it bad. So bad.

It's full on déjà vu of last night.

Even the best of us have our less-than-proud moments. At the end of the day, all men are dogs, in one way or another. I'm not above taking whatever I can get. And for some reason, right now, I'm alright with that.

In the background, I hear her jacket slump to the floor. Feel her cold hands at the back of my neck. Any consciousness left in me completely flatlines. It's working on pure instinct at this point. But unlike last night, Elle's approach is slow and measured. Languishing. Being an outright tease, and I'm loving every minute of it. She's a sensational kisser. Goddamn, why does she taste so good?

Elle pulls away, just enough to touch noses and bat her blue eyes at me. Feel her small hands tugging at my jaw. And such a satisfied, content look on her face. There's so much I want to say to her, but another part of me is telling me to keep my mouth shut and go along for the ride.

"Elle," Through the daze I manage to find my voice and my bearings. I buy some time when I let her in for another kiss. It's guarded, but reassuring, the feelings are still there. The inferno's been staunched for now. The next hardest part would be keeping myself in line while I tried to defuse this situation. When you play with fire, expect to get burned.

"Yes, John?" Her thumbs drag along my jaw and through the stubble, but her eyes never leave mine.

"I don't know if there's any good way to say this," There's a slight brace in her posture. I'm mulling over my next choice of words, struggling to articulate my thoughts in a way she'll understand.

"If you start it off like that, then there's probably not. Tell me, what's on your mind." Despite my warning her voice is still supportive, optimistic, her smile still there.

"I don't know what the hell I'm doing." Because I honestly don't. And she looks just as confused as I'm feeling right about now.
"It's not like that. I… I don't know what you want."

Fuck if I knew what I even wanted.

"I know what I want." There's confidence in her tone. I'm just the dumb one who's turned a blind eye all along. Maybe I've always known it was there, and chose to ignore it.

"And what's the Elle?" I instantly regret asking. There's a knot in my gut that's telling me to back out. I knew what nice girls like Elle wanted from a man, and I wasn't kind to provide it.

"I want whatever feels right." Now she's holding my hand, her thumb brushing over the back of my knuckles. Just like she's always done. It's been there the whole damn time, right under my nose.

"What do you want John?"

I honestly didn't know. That's why we were stuck in this predicament. Relationships weren't something I invested a lot of my thoughts or time into, because for a little over the past 6 years, I never knew if there was going to be a tomorrow. It wasn't fair to people like Elle. It was the same reason I hardly spoke with my own family. Any day there could be an officer in his full dress uniform standing at the doorstep, trying to find the rights words to tell loved ones. I would know. I had done it too many times. This needed to end here.

"I don't do this kind of thing."

"This?" She asks with a suspicious lift of her eyebrow. Holds a searching stare. Elle contemplates my response in silence for what feel like forever. Then she snorts out a laugh of sorts.

"I don't care where this goes John. I'm not looking for any commitment, if that's what you're referring to."

Elle's high handed remark is an unexpected kick to the ego. She has both my hands in hers now, running her thumbs over the backs again as if to help soften the blow.

"I know how you military guys are. I know the routine. And I'm completely fine with that."

Well maybe I'm not.
But the words never make their way out. Pride and fear have a way of doing that. Any other person would tell you not to look a gift horse in the mouth. Don't question it. Count your blessings. Embrace the suck. Carpe-fucking-diem as Whitney would put it.

I try to pass it off casually, like I actually agree with what I'm talking about.

"Good. We both know where we stand then."

But did we? Really?

"Yes we do." Elle agrees, a sly smile returning to her lips.
"Now John, you need to promise me one thing."

"What's that?" I venture because I feel like I just dodged a bullet. But at what cost?

"Just shut up and let me enjoy the moment."

A/N: I apologize again! I hope you enjoyed!