May 30th,
"...because I was afraid, Alison!!!! You scared me!"
You scared me.
Not good enough, Dashiell...not an excuse. Not even close!
I am still simmering even now, four hours after I stormed off the tarmac. I am as angry as I have ever been with him...angry as I have been in a long time. Angrier because I am not quite sure to whom I should be directing this rage, him or myself.
Shana has left me alone to fester, knowing instinctively that I am not yet ready to talk. Personally, I think she is far too occupied with Snakes to give a damn about my problems. Granted, the poor man is in shock over Storm Shadow's defection to COBRA and needs her more than I.
No matter. I don't really want her advice at this particular moment...I doubt I can handle the 'holier than thou' lecture certain to occur. She is far to quick to disparage my relationship with Flint...
Flint....GRRRRRR....
Taigh na galla do stalcaire! What was he thinking? What in the nine planes of hell possessed him?
Wondering what's got my back up? Well, nothing much...just that I finally discovered why it is I hadn't seen any action since returning from sick leave!! I'll give you a hint ...he's about six foot tall, dark hair, wears a beret...
Bloody HELL!
I had just arrived at ops to pick up my orders when I overheard Flint speaking with Dialtone in the hallway.
"Are you sure you got this right..." I heard him growl as I turned the corner. Flint hadn't noticed me, as he was too busy glowering over some paperwork.
"Straight from the horse's mouth, fearless leader. Both you and Lady Jaye are off to Wolkekuckkuckland in about five hours. The particulars are all in there..."
He shook his head in frustration.
"...this can't be right. I told him she wasn't ready to go out yet. I told him specifically to keep her out of the line of fire until..."
"YOU WHAT?!"
They both swung around to face me, twin expressions of surprise turning to ones of fear when they caught my expression.
"Ummmm...." Dialtone backed slowly away as if he was facing a venomous snake poised to strike, "...I just remembered something I needed to do in the control room."
"Jaye..." Flint began as Jack took off down the corridor. I interrupted him before he could even start the thought.
I was in no mood for excuses.
"How DARE you!"
"Allie, you weren't ready to go..." I didn't hear him.
"How DARE you! You have no RIGHT to make those decisions for me. You have no RIGHT to meddle in my career, in my work..."
"Calm down...I was just..."
"You were just WHAT, Flint? Keeping me behind a desk for the past three months?" I snapped.
"That's not exactly how it happ..."
"Go gcreime galar tógálach do thóin bheagmhaitheasach!"
He narrowed his eyes, annoyed that I was speaking a language he barely understood, but recognizing enough to tell it was hardly complimentary.
"Don't you narrow your eyes at me, burraidh...ye had no right!" I struggled to suppress my accent, but it was coming out sharp and strong. The temper I inherited from the Burnett clan was switching into overdrive, taking control of my tongue...pushing back any sense of propriety and sense.
"I DO have that right. It's my job! I make these types of decisions every day..."
"Don't you go all 'commander' on me, Dashiell Faireborn. You know full well that this has nothing to do with our professional relationship..."
"Not everything I do stems from 'us' you know, I do have a life outside our relationship." He growled, becoming steadily less guilty and more irritated as the argument went on.
"So...then it's your "PROFESSIONAL' opinion that I am not cut out for the work?" I hissed.
There was a crowd gathering around us now, attracted by the loud and angry pitch of our voices echoing down the corridors. Flint was becoming increasing aware of their scrutiny, flashing me a warning glance as he stood up straight and at attention.
"It is my PROFESSIONAL opinion that you are WAY out of line, Master Corporal." He barked, grabbing me by the arm and yanking me towards an empty meeting room. He looked up and scowled at the Joes around us.
"If the rest of you aren't busy, I am sure I can find something for you to do..." One look at his face and they all went running as he pulled me into the room and slammed the door behind us.
"What the HELL were you thinking out there..." He gestured to the hallway, his voice barely level as he struggled to keep from shouting. I had no such qualms.
"What the HELL were you thinking telling Hawk I wasn't ready to go out!!"
"You weren't!"
"I bloody well was and you know it! Beachhead gave me the ok. Lifeline gave me the ok. Are you telling me they don't know what they're doing?"
"I'm not...I'm saying..."
"Then you must be telling me that you don't think I am cut out for this work. That I am not good enough to fight alongside the others; Fight alongside you..."
"I didn't say..." He clenched and unclenched his fists in an attempt to calm himself, but it was a losing battle. "YOU WEREN'T READY AND THAT'S FINAL!"
"That's not what Duke thinks..."
He froze at the sound of his friend's name, his eyes darkening menacingly. I flinched but plowed on with nary a pause.
"...HE thinks I am worthy of consideration. HE values my skills and abilities...what I can bring to an operation..."
"No..." he whispered, barely a hiss. Again I ignored him.
"In fact, he told me before he left on the 'Defiant' that he's interested in having me on your little team..."
"NO!" He shouted. Grabbing my arm. I pulled myself out of his grip and glared right back at him as he spluttered in anger.
"No way. No way in HELL are you going 'Black'."
"You have some nerve, Dashiell! This isn't your decision, it's mine."
"Like hell it isn't! I won't have you..."
"You, you, you...since when has it become all about you?!" I laughed but the sound held no humor, "This is MY life. MY choice. MY decision. I worked damn hard to get where I am today and there is NO WAY I am going to throw it all away because YOU don't think I can cut it."
He stood there staring at me, his hands balled up into fists, his face contorted in barely suppressed fury, before turning on his heel and rushing out of the room.
I suppose I should have followed him. I suppose I should have tried to wrap this up for better or for worse BEFORE we left on the mission. Unfortunately, I was waiting for him to come and apologize to me. HE was in the wrong, not I.
I also wished him to suffer. I am not proud to admit this, but I was so angry that I went and cut my hair very short just to spite him. I know how much he likes it long...I had been growing in out for months...so I walked over to the base barber about two hours before the plane took off and practically buzzed it all off.
It doesn't look bad.
Of course, it doesn't look great either.
I am such an idiot sometimes. Now I am going to have to suffer with it for the next few months until it fills out again. It will be even longer until I can style it.
Sigh.
Mind you, he got the point. When he saw me get on the plane he took one look and stomped away to sit with Bill and the other pilot for the rest of the flight.
From there on in, things only got worse.
We parachuted into the wilds of Wolkekuckkuckland in terse silence, quickly making contact with Stalker the moment we hit the ground. Flint's mood had worsened during the long flight, so much so that by the time we reached the campsite, he was grumbling quite heavily to Hawk and Stalker about the stupidity of the whole operation and the questionable morals of the men we were slated to help.
Hawk is familiar with Flint's tendency to voice his opinion regardless rank or protocol...in fact he usually takes his third's thoughts quite seriously...but this time he was less than pleased, especially when General Liederkrantz overheard the Warrant Officer's commentary. Of course, Flint snapped at ME when I tried to warn him the subject of his little tirade was standing right behind him...serves him right!
I wonder if Clay suspects that his prized Field Commander's mood was a direct result of a run-in with me? If so he hasn't said a word, although I am sure both of us are going to be chewed out for letting our personal life interfere with our work. Mind you, the General might very well have attributed any tension to the asteroid. One does tend to get a bit agitated when there is a hunk of rock the size of Alaska on a collision course with Earth. Not to mention we were about to be on the receiving end of an outright massacre...
...COBRA was amassing Detonator tanks on the ridge above us and would cut through us like a hot knife through butter.
No...thing's were hardly 'peachy'. I doubt Hawk would have noticed anything amiss between us in light of our worsening situation. He would also suppose that Flint and I would be able to put any differences aside until we were back on friendly soil.
He would suppose...and he would be dead wrong!
Dash was a complete bastard the whole bloody operation...ordering me about in a way that would have made Beachhead proud. He didn't take any guff and treated me as nothing more than some anonymous soldier...like a green ROOKIE!
He was reckless...more reckless than usual at least. If it hadn't been for Snake Eyes we would both be dead right now. At one point, he ran us right into a COBRA listening station, surprising both the Vipers manning the post and ourselves. He didn't even hesitate...killing the first quickly and quietly, the murderous swipe of his blade a deadly reflex.
It had been so long since we had been in battle together. I forgotten what a superb soldier he was...what a ruthless warrior he could be.
I subdued the other COBRA lackey, but hesitated before slitting his throat. He was unarmed...pleading for mercy...and some deeply ingrained sense of honor prevented me from making the kill.
Flint was FURIOUS.
"Finish him off. No prisoners!" he growled menacingly, "If you don't have it in you I will do it."
"He is no longer a threat Flint," I ignored him and began to tie the Viper up. Christ, he was no more than a boy, "...and he might have some information we could use..."
"I said KILL HIM!" he snapped.
I swung around and faced him down.
"He surrendered, " I hissed, "in case you have forgotten, there are rules of conduct even in war!"
In response he angrily yanked the prisoner out of my reach. I thought would slit the kid's throat right then, but he merely glared at me angrily.
"In the 'Black' there ARE no rules, ethics have no place were you want to go..." he spat.
Before I could respond, he had turned and began making his way back to camp, dragging the COBRA soldier behind him.
The rest of the mission was much the same, him barking orders...criticizing my every move like some hell spawned drill sergeant...while I tried desperately to reign in my temper.
It was a losing battle.
The final straw was when he lobbed Cobra Commander off the cliff. I just snapped! The man might be our mortal enemy but even he has rights as a prisoner of war under the tenets of the Geneva Convention! Moreover, he would have proved to be a valuable prisoner...and we lost him not because Flint was trying to get a brainwashed Storm Shadow off our tails as he claimed, but to prove some hair-brained, machismo point!
I didn't speak to him for the remainder of the operation, smoldering in quite resentment, my face a petulant sulk the entire flight home. For his part, Flint did his best to remain professional in front of the others and went about his business as if nothing was amiss. Nevertheless, every so often I caught him turning to me and frowning. Whether is was a frown of irritation or guilt I am not sure...but I certainly returned every glance with a scowl of my own.
When the plane touched down, he followed me onto the tarmac struggling to keep up as I rushed towards the base at breakneck speed despite the cumbersome gear hanging off my shoulder. He finally managed to catch me as I struggled with the door to my quarters.
Damn Tollbooth, I thought he was going to fix the lock this week!
"Allie! Alison...stop!"
"I have nothing to say to you Flint..."
"Come on Alison...you're acting like a child..."
I swung around to face him, my eyes on fire.
"I AM ACTING LIKE A CHILD! After all you've done..."
"I have my reasons, Allie..."
"I don't want to hear it!"
"You don't understand...its" he was struggling now, searching for the words...frustrated that they weren't coming out. He is only like that when he is about to say something from the heart...but this time I didn't care.
"Get out..." I was physically pushing him out of the room...
"...I did it because I was afraid, Alison!!!! You scared me!"
I didn't care.
"Thoir do chasan leat!!!!!!!"
With one final shove I drove him into the hall and slammed the door in his face.
He didn't return.
You have to understand, I worked hard to get where I am today. Even after the horror of basic training, even after it finally 'clicked' and my superiors began to take notice...every day in the army has been a struggle. Against the enemy, against the elements...against pain, exhaustion, frustration...against those who would rather face a court martial for harassment than see a woman succeed...against soldiers seeking 'revenge' after having had a women best them on the training field, and those seeking a little action from the single girl in cammies...but most of all it has been a struggle against myself and my own doubts and fears.
None of it has been a cakewalk...NONE OF IT. Some days I get out of bed and wonder if I am going to make it through another day. How much longer my body will be able to handle the punishment. I have conquered my fear; I have done everything possible to make it out on top...yet it never gets any easier. The more you prove yourself, the more you achieve...the more they throw at you!
In case you haven't guessed, I am not the most confident of soldiers. I am not like Gung Ho or Leatherneck, primed for battle, proud Marines afraid or no one and nothing. They go into battle KNOWING that they are superior...just point them in the right direction and they will fight like warriors of old...charging into battle with a smile on their lips and a battle cry ripping through their throats.
No...I doubt. I will always doubt. I will always believe I am not good enough. That doesn't mean I will give up, though...it only means I have to try harder, fight harder to make sure I am right behind those two Jarheads as they rush headlong into the enemy.
...But to hear Dashiell voice that he has reservations about my abilities as well, to know that despite all we have been through he still believes me incapable of holding my own in a firefight. To know he still feels a need to 'protect' me...it rankled more than you can possibly imaging...hitting every one of my insecurities...hitting home with such a force that I am still numb.
What has me more riled, however, is that my I now question the 'righteousness' of my anger. Could it be that 'I' am in the wrong this time? Could it be that 'I' owe HIM an apology.
Preposterous!
Unfortunately, my Aunt Sarah doesn't think so.
She called to check up on me about an hour ago and before she even had a chance to say 'hello' I began my rant...pouring out the litany of details as to my horrendous week at breakneck speed. I used to speak quickly as a child, and still remember my father laughing as I carried on excitedly about something or other...forgetting to breath in my eagerness to get the point across.
When I finished, there was a long silence on the other end of the line before I heard an exasperated sigh.
"Och...Alison..." I could just picture her smiling, shaking her head at me as she tut-tutted.
"Och, Alison?!" I asked, incredulous..."Don't you mean Och, Dashiell?"
"Well, lass...he isn't exactly coming up roses either. From what you have told me of him, though...I would think the reaction typical. I do, however, feel you owe him an apology."
"You have got to be kidding me, Aunty Sarah!"
Et tu Brute, I thought. Betrayed by my very own flesh and blood!
"Don't sound so hurt, child. For goodness sake, have you ever known me to give you anything but sound advice even if it means disagreeing with you? I am certainly not going to start pulling my punches now! I have your best interests at heart...even if it doesn't always seem so..."
"...but..."
"No buts...just listen." she laughed, "How like your father you are...stubborn, proud fool of a man...and that temper! You come by it honestly."
"First off, you should never have attacked him the way you did. You know better than to air your dirty laundry in public. You hurt his pride, Alison...and as far as women have come this century we still have to step delicately around this last male hubris. You should have held your tongue until you had some privacy, no matter how inane his decisions. He is your superior after all."
"Why should I respect someone who abuses his position? He had no right to do what he did. He overstepped his bounds..."
"Alison darling. I know you are strong and independent. I know how much you love what you do and how driven you are to succeed without anyone's help. They are wonderful traits and have taken you far. There are times, however, were it can become a leash...a chain around your neck...holding you back."
"You want this man in your life. You want him to share with you, open up to you, be with you...and he has, or has at least begun to do so. Now YOU have to let him in as well. He DOES have every right to input on your career...on what you choose to do with your life."
"Alison...I said LISTEN...I am not finished!" she snapped gently as I attempted to interrupt with my very strong opposition.
"I never said he went about doing so in a proper manner, but you have to look at what drives the man. I certainly understand him well enough...if I was in his position I would do my best to keep you out of harm's way as well...not because I think any less of you, but because I think the world of you. I love you and don't want to see you hurt. When I heard about your injury, when I saw the footage on the BBC...my heart nearly stopped. You scared me as well mo leanabh. The thought that I could have lost you...you are like my own daughter..."
I heard her voice break slightly, unsteady as she remembered the incident a few months back...and felt my own heart flutter in response. She had wanted to fly into Boston to be with me but I had convinced her and the family to stay in Scotland. I was fine and did not want them worrying.
I wish I hadn't though...I wish she had come.
"He loves you, Allie...we all love you. We don't want to loose you. I sometimes wish you would just go back to acting, go back to school, even into the Hart family business...anything to get you away from the battlefield you call work...I know you love it and I know I cannot stop you. But that is not going to stop me from trying."
"I scared him..." I whispered, repeating the words that he had said to me as I shoved him out the door.
"Yes you did. You scared all of us...
There was a pause in the conversation as we both attempted to absorb the words. My hand went to my shoulder in an unconscious gesture...touching the place where a bullet had ripped through my flesh years ago, feeling the scar that remained...a reminder of my mortality.
I knew Dashiell had been affected by what went down in Iowa, but I hadn't fully realized how deeply it had cut until then. He had been in hysterics (at least hysterics for Flint) when he arrived at the hospital, but had managed to compose himself well enough that I dismissed it from my mind. I now understand that, as per usual, Flint had not dealt with it but merely internalized his worries.
He is frightened by loss and that fear colors all he does. He grew up in a household haunted by it...raised by a father scarred by the loss of a brother...living with a family forever changed by the death of a son. Dash lost his first wife to treachery...he has lost friends during his time in the military...I cannot begin to imagine what he must feel at the thought of losing me...what demons were brought forth when he saw me fall in a hail of gunfire.
In my heart I know should something happen to me Dashiell would be devastated. I don't mean to sound conceited in any way, I am just stating fact. I know him, and I know if I were killed it would destroy him. He is a man who does nothing half way. Everything is done with a passion that precludes all else...be it his craze for literature, his ferocity in battle, his dedication to the GIJOE team, his deep loyalty to his friends and, as I am beginning to understand, his love for me.
That kind of intensity comes with a price.
Would he recover? He did when Karen left him...but she was not ripped from him by death...and even then it took almost a decade for him to heal. Would he eventually bounce back if I were to die? Would he find someone else and start a family? Would he go on with his life?
Or would he withdraw...would he hit the bottle...would he give up and succumb to depression?
I suspect the latter.
He is a strong man, tough and proud...but there are days when I truly see that I am the stronger...that he leans on me for support more than I on him. I would never suggest this to him, nor would I mention my belief to anyone. As my aunt says, he is a proud man and probably doesn't even realize he does, much less admit to it.
I do not think about losing him. The thought never enters my mind, whether as a defense mechanism to keep me from being paralyzed by worry every time he is called out to defend our nation's freedom. He seems so solid to me, larger than life, impervious to injury regardless of the scars that he carries so proudly.
...and yet, deep inside he is so very vulnerable.
What would I do if he didn't come back to me? I honestly don't know. It would certainly rip out part of my soul; change me in some fundamental way that I would never be the same person ever again. Yet I think I might be able to move on eventually...as I did when I left my mother, as I did when I lost my father...as I did with Shawn.
And yet with Dash everything is different. Am I really that strong?
Before she got off the phone, my Aunt had asked me what I planned to do. She still has no idea what my job actually is, nor does she have a clue as to the danger involved in the offer Conrad had given me earlier. Nevertheless, she has a sharp mind and has probably put two and two together.
What do I plan on doing with Duke's proposition?
I don't know.
What do I really know about his little operation? Marvin, Dash, Conrad...they never speak of it. Do I really want to find out what could possibly be so bad as to necessitate this silence? Do I really want to know what it could be that would give a soldier like Flint nightmares?
Is this really the kind of challenge I want to undertake? What is it I want to prove to the world...to myself...that I haven't already accomplished here with GIJOE? Is 'Black Ops' the next step for me? I admit I am curious, but at the same time hesitant...
"Good..." she exhaled in relief as I voiced my indecision, "...good. I was worried you had gone an accepted just to spite him. You tend to do that, I know you...like the time you were so angry at your father for leaving you behind in Scotland when he went abroad that you tried to convert to Hinduism."
"I had forgotten about that. Poor Father Mackenzie was beside himself...I thought he was going to have a stroke right there when I walked into Church carrying a statuette of Shiva!" I closed my eyes and tried not to laugh, "No, I didn't jump on the offer just to get back at him...although I considered it. I...ummm...cut all my hair off instead."
She laughed.
"Some things never change. I hope this man of yours knows what he is getting into."
"Not really...I like to keep him on his toes."
She paused in thought before continuing.
"I know I haven't met him yet, but this man is good for you mo leanabh. You mustn't be so hard on him. You must learn to let him into your life, as you demand he let you into his. A relationship is a partnership; you would do well to remember that. As my mother used to tell me, love is not a noun. Love is a verb."
With that last piece of advice our conversation ended, and now, hours later, I am still sitting up in my bed...mulling over her words and trying to rein in my anger.
Could she be right? Could I be as guilty of wrongdoing as he? Do I owe him an apology after the shit he put me through this week?
Sigh*
I guess both of us are a little too proud for our own good!
"...because I was afraid, Alison!!!! You scared me!"
You scared me.
Not good enough, Dashiell...not an excuse. Not even close!
I am still simmering even now, four hours after I stormed off the tarmac. I am as angry as I have ever been with him...angry as I have been in a long time. Angrier because I am not quite sure to whom I should be directing this rage, him or myself.
Shana has left me alone to fester, knowing instinctively that I am not yet ready to talk. Personally, I think she is far too occupied with Snakes to give a damn about my problems. Granted, the poor man is in shock over Storm Shadow's defection to COBRA and needs her more than I.
No matter. I don't really want her advice at this particular moment...I doubt I can handle the 'holier than thou' lecture certain to occur. She is far to quick to disparage my relationship with Flint...
Flint....GRRRRRR....
Taigh na galla do stalcaire! What was he thinking? What in the nine planes of hell possessed him?
Wondering what's got my back up? Well, nothing much...just that I finally discovered why it is I hadn't seen any action since returning from sick leave!! I'll give you a hint ...he's about six foot tall, dark hair, wears a beret...
Bloody HELL!
I had just arrived at ops to pick up my orders when I overheard Flint speaking with Dialtone in the hallway.
"Are you sure you got this right..." I heard him growl as I turned the corner. Flint hadn't noticed me, as he was too busy glowering over some paperwork.
"Straight from the horse's mouth, fearless leader. Both you and Lady Jaye are off to Wolkekuckkuckland in about five hours. The particulars are all in there..."
He shook his head in frustration.
"...this can't be right. I told him she wasn't ready to go out yet. I told him specifically to keep her out of the line of fire until..."
"YOU WHAT?!"
They both swung around to face me, twin expressions of surprise turning to ones of fear when they caught my expression.
"Ummmm...." Dialtone backed slowly away as if he was facing a venomous snake poised to strike, "...I just remembered something I needed to do in the control room."
"Jaye..." Flint began as Jack took off down the corridor. I interrupted him before he could even start the thought.
I was in no mood for excuses.
"How DARE you!"
"Allie, you weren't ready to go..." I didn't hear him.
"How DARE you! You have no RIGHT to make those decisions for me. You have no RIGHT to meddle in my career, in my work..."
"Calm down...I was just..."
"You were just WHAT, Flint? Keeping me behind a desk for the past three months?" I snapped.
"That's not exactly how it happ..."
"Go gcreime galar tógálach do thóin bheagmhaitheasach!"
He narrowed his eyes, annoyed that I was speaking a language he barely understood, but recognizing enough to tell it was hardly complimentary.
"Don't you narrow your eyes at me, burraidh...ye had no right!" I struggled to suppress my accent, but it was coming out sharp and strong. The temper I inherited from the Burnett clan was switching into overdrive, taking control of my tongue...pushing back any sense of propriety and sense.
"I DO have that right. It's my job! I make these types of decisions every day..."
"Don't you go all 'commander' on me, Dashiell Faireborn. You know full well that this has nothing to do with our professional relationship..."
"Not everything I do stems from 'us' you know, I do have a life outside our relationship." He growled, becoming steadily less guilty and more irritated as the argument went on.
"So...then it's your "PROFESSIONAL' opinion that I am not cut out for the work?" I hissed.
There was a crowd gathering around us now, attracted by the loud and angry pitch of our voices echoing down the corridors. Flint was becoming increasing aware of their scrutiny, flashing me a warning glance as he stood up straight and at attention.
"It is my PROFESSIONAL opinion that you are WAY out of line, Master Corporal." He barked, grabbing me by the arm and yanking me towards an empty meeting room. He looked up and scowled at the Joes around us.
"If the rest of you aren't busy, I am sure I can find something for you to do..." One look at his face and they all went running as he pulled me into the room and slammed the door behind us.
"What the HELL were you thinking out there..." He gestured to the hallway, his voice barely level as he struggled to keep from shouting. I had no such qualms.
"What the HELL were you thinking telling Hawk I wasn't ready to go out!!"
"You weren't!"
"I bloody well was and you know it! Beachhead gave me the ok. Lifeline gave me the ok. Are you telling me they don't know what they're doing?"
"I'm not...I'm saying..."
"Then you must be telling me that you don't think I am cut out for this work. That I am not good enough to fight alongside the others; Fight alongside you..."
"I didn't say..." He clenched and unclenched his fists in an attempt to calm himself, but it was a losing battle. "YOU WEREN'T READY AND THAT'S FINAL!"
"That's not what Duke thinks..."
He froze at the sound of his friend's name, his eyes darkening menacingly. I flinched but plowed on with nary a pause.
"...HE thinks I am worthy of consideration. HE values my skills and abilities...what I can bring to an operation..."
"No..." he whispered, barely a hiss. Again I ignored him.
"In fact, he told me before he left on the 'Defiant' that he's interested in having me on your little team..."
"NO!" He shouted. Grabbing my arm. I pulled myself out of his grip and glared right back at him as he spluttered in anger.
"No way. No way in HELL are you going 'Black'."
"You have some nerve, Dashiell! This isn't your decision, it's mine."
"Like hell it isn't! I won't have you..."
"You, you, you...since when has it become all about you?!" I laughed but the sound held no humor, "This is MY life. MY choice. MY decision. I worked damn hard to get where I am today and there is NO WAY I am going to throw it all away because YOU don't think I can cut it."
He stood there staring at me, his hands balled up into fists, his face contorted in barely suppressed fury, before turning on his heel and rushing out of the room.
I suppose I should have followed him. I suppose I should have tried to wrap this up for better or for worse BEFORE we left on the mission. Unfortunately, I was waiting for him to come and apologize to me. HE was in the wrong, not I.
I also wished him to suffer. I am not proud to admit this, but I was so angry that I went and cut my hair very short just to spite him. I know how much he likes it long...I had been growing in out for months...so I walked over to the base barber about two hours before the plane took off and practically buzzed it all off.
It doesn't look bad.
Of course, it doesn't look great either.
I am such an idiot sometimes. Now I am going to have to suffer with it for the next few months until it fills out again. It will be even longer until I can style it.
Sigh.
Mind you, he got the point. When he saw me get on the plane he took one look and stomped away to sit with Bill and the other pilot for the rest of the flight.
From there on in, things only got worse.
We parachuted into the wilds of Wolkekuckkuckland in terse silence, quickly making contact with Stalker the moment we hit the ground. Flint's mood had worsened during the long flight, so much so that by the time we reached the campsite, he was grumbling quite heavily to Hawk and Stalker about the stupidity of the whole operation and the questionable morals of the men we were slated to help.
Hawk is familiar with Flint's tendency to voice his opinion regardless rank or protocol...in fact he usually takes his third's thoughts quite seriously...but this time he was less than pleased, especially when General Liederkrantz overheard the Warrant Officer's commentary. Of course, Flint snapped at ME when I tried to warn him the subject of his little tirade was standing right behind him...serves him right!
I wonder if Clay suspects that his prized Field Commander's mood was a direct result of a run-in with me? If so he hasn't said a word, although I am sure both of us are going to be chewed out for letting our personal life interfere with our work. Mind you, the General might very well have attributed any tension to the asteroid. One does tend to get a bit agitated when there is a hunk of rock the size of Alaska on a collision course with Earth. Not to mention we were about to be on the receiving end of an outright massacre...
...COBRA was amassing Detonator tanks on the ridge above us and would cut through us like a hot knife through butter.
No...thing's were hardly 'peachy'. I doubt Hawk would have noticed anything amiss between us in light of our worsening situation. He would also suppose that Flint and I would be able to put any differences aside until we were back on friendly soil.
He would suppose...and he would be dead wrong!
Dash was a complete bastard the whole bloody operation...ordering me about in a way that would have made Beachhead proud. He didn't take any guff and treated me as nothing more than some anonymous soldier...like a green ROOKIE!
He was reckless...more reckless than usual at least. If it hadn't been for Snake Eyes we would both be dead right now. At one point, he ran us right into a COBRA listening station, surprising both the Vipers manning the post and ourselves. He didn't even hesitate...killing the first quickly and quietly, the murderous swipe of his blade a deadly reflex.
It had been so long since we had been in battle together. I forgotten what a superb soldier he was...what a ruthless warrior he could be.
I subdued the other COBRA lackey, but hesitated before slitting his throat. He was unarmed...pleading for mercy...and some deeply ingrained sense of honor prevented me from making the kill.
Flint was FURIOUS.
"Finish him off. No prisoners!" he growled menacingly, "If you don't have it in you I will do it."
"He is no longer a threat Flint," I ignored him and began to tie the Viper up. Christ, he was no more than a boy, "...and he might have some information we could use..."
"I said KILL HIM!" he snapped.
I swung around and faced him down.
"He surrendered, " I hissed, "in case you have forgotten, there are rules of conduct even in war!"
In response he angrily yanked the prisoner out of my reach. I thought would slit the kid's throat right then, but he merely glared at me angrily.
"In the 'Black' there ARE no rules, ethics have no place were you want to go..." he spat.
Before I could respond, he had turned and began making his way back to camp, dragging the COBRA soldier behind him.
The rest of the mission was much the same, him barking orders...criticizing my every move like some hell spawned drill sergeant...while I tried desperately to reign in my temper.
It was a losing battle.
The final straw was when he lobbed Cobra Commander off the cliff. I just snapped! The man might be our mortal enemy but even he has rights as a prisoner of war under the tenets of the Geneva Convention! Moreover, he would have proved to be a valuable prisoner...and we lost him not because Flint was trying to get a brainwashed Storm Shadow off our tails as he claimed, but to prove some hair-brained, machismo point!
I didn't speak to him for the remainder of the operation, smoldering in quite resentment, my face a petulant sulk the entire flight home. For his part, Flint did his best to remain professional in front of the others and went about his business as if nothing was amiss. Nevertheless, every so often I caught him turning to me and frowning. Whether is was a frown of irritation or guilt I am not sure...but I certainly returned every glance with a scowl of my own.
When the plane touched down, he followed me onto the tarmac struggling to keep up as I rushed towards the base at breakneck speed despite the cumbersome gear hanging off my shoulder. He finally managed to catch me as I struggled with the door to my quarters.
Damn Tollbooth, I thought he was going to fix the lock this week!
"Allie! Alison...stop!"
"I have nothing to say to you Flint..."
"Come on Alison...you're acting like a child..."
I swung around to face him, my eyes on fire.
"I AM ACTING LIKE A CHILD! After all you've done..."
"I have my reasons, Allie..."
"I don't want to hear it!"
"You don't understand...its" he was struggling now, searching for the words...frustrated that they weren't coming out. He is only like that when he is about to say something from the heart...but this time I didn't care.
"Get out..." I was physically pushing him out of the room...
"...I did it because I was afraid, Alison!!!! You scared me!"
I didn't care.
"Thoir do chasan leat!!!!!!!"
With one final shove I drove him into the hall and slammed the door in his face.
He didn't return.
You have to understand, I worked hard to get where I am today. Even after the horror of basic training, even after it finally 'clicked' and my superiors began to take notice...every day in the army has been a struggle. Against the enemy, against the elements...against pain, exhaustion, frustration...against those who would rather face a court martial for harassment than see a woman succeed...against soldiers seeking 'revenge' after having had a women best them on the training field, and those seeking a little action from the single girl in cammies...but most of all it has been a struggle against myself and my own doubts and fears.
None of it has been a cakewalk...NONE OF IT. Some days I get out of bed and wonder if I am going to make it through another day. How much longer my body will be able to handle the punishment. I have conquered my fear; I have done everything possible to make it out on top...yet it never gets any easier. The more you prove yourself, the more you achieve...the more they throw at you!
In case you haven't guessed, I am not the most confident of soldiers. I am not like Gung Ho or Leatherneck, primed for battle, proud Marines afraid or no one and nothing. They go into battle KNOWING that they are superior...just point them in the right direction and they will fight like warriors of old...charging into battle with a smile on their lips and a battle cry ripping through their throats.
No...I doubt. I will always doubt. I will always believe I am not good enough. That doesn't mean I will give up, though...it only means I have to try harder, fight harder to make sure I am right behind those two Jarheads as they rush headlong into the enemy.
...But to hear Dashiell voice that he has reservations about my abilities as well, to know that despite all we have been through he still believes me incapable of holding my own in a firefight. To know he still feels a need to 'protect' me...it rankled more than you can possibly imaging...hitting every one of my insecurities...hitting home with such a force that I am still numb.
What has me more riled, however, is that my I now question the 'righteousness' of my anger. Could it be that 'I' am in the wrong this time? Could it be that 'I' owe HIM an apology.
Preposterous!
Unfortunately, my Aunt Sarah doesn't think so.
She called to check up on me about an hour ago and before she even had a chance to say 'hello' I began my rant...pouring out the litany of details as to my horrendous week at breakneck speed. I used to speak quickly as a child, and still remember my father laughing as I carried on excitedly about something or other...forgetting to breath in my eagerness to get the point across.
When I finished, there was a long silence on the other end of the line before I heard an exasperated sigh.
"Och...Alison..." I could just picture her smiling, shaking her head at me as she tut-tutted.
"Och, Alison?!" I asked, incredulous..."Don't you mean Och, Dashiell?"
"Well, lass...he isn't exactly coming up roses either. From what you have told me of him, though...I would think the reaction typical. I do, however, feel you owe him an apology."
"You have got to be kidding me, Aunty Sarah!"
Et tu Brute, I thought. Betrayed by my very own flesh and blood!
"Don't sound so hurt, child. For goodness sake, have you ever known me to give you anything but sound advice even if it means disagreeing with you? I am certainly not going to start pulling my punches now! I have your best interests at heart...even if it doesn't always seem so..."
"...but..."
"No buts...just listen." she laughed, "How like your father you are...stubborn, proud fool of a man...and that temper! You come by it honestly."
"First off, you should never have attacked him the way you did. You know better than to air your dirty laundry in public. You hurt his pride, Alison...and as far as women have come this century we still have to step delicately around this last male hubris. You should have held your tongue until you had some privacy, no matter how inane his decisions. He is your superior after all."
"Why should I respect someone who abuses his position? He had no right to do what he did. He overstepped his bounds..."
"Alison darling. I know you are strong and independent. I know how much you love what you do and how driven you are to succeed without anyone's help. They are wonderful traits and have taken you far. There are times, however, were it can become a leash...a chain around your neck...holding you back."
"You want this man in your life. You want him to share with you, open up to you, be with you...and he has, or has at least begun to do so. Now YOU have to let him in as well. He DOES have every right to input on your career...on what you choose to do with your life."
"Alison...I said LISTEN...I am not finished!" she snapped gently as I attempted to interrupt with my very strong opposition.
"I never said he went about doing so in a proper manner, but you have to look at what drives the man. I certainly understand him well enough...if I was in his position I would do my best to keep you out of harm's way as well...not because I think any less of you, but because I think the world of you. I love you and don't want to see you hurt. When I heard about your injury, when I saw the footage on the BBC...my heart nearly stopped. You scared me as well mo leanabh. The thought that I could have lost you...you are like my own daughter..."
I heard her voice break slightly, unsteady as she remembered the incident a few months back...and felt my own heart flutter in response. She had wanted to fly into Boston to be with me but I had convinced her and the family to stay in Scotland. I was fine and did not want them worrying.
I wish I hadn't though...I wish she had come.
"He loves you, Allie...we all love you. We don't want to loose you. I sometimes wish you would just go back to acting, go back to school, even into the Hart family business...anything to get you away from the battlefield you call work...I know you love it and I know I cannot stop you. But that is not going to stop me from trying."
"I scared him..." I whispered, repeating the words that he had said to me as I shoved him out the door.
"Yes you did. You scared all of us...
There was a pause in the conversation as we both attempted to absorb the words. My hand went to my shoulder in an unconscious gesture...touching the place where a bullet had ripped through my flesh years ago, feeling the scar that remained...a reminder of my mortality.
I knew Dashiell had been affected by what went down in Iowa, but I hadn't fully realized how deeply it had cut until then. He had been in hysterics (at least hysterics for Flint) when he arrived at the hospital, but had managed to compose himself well enough that I dismissed it from my mind. I now understand that, as per usual, Flint had not dealt with it but merely internalized his worries.
He is frightened by loss and that fear colors all he does. He grew up in a household haunted by it...raised by a father scarred by the loss of a brother...living with a family forever changed by the death of a son. Dash lost his first wife to treachery...he has lost friends during his time in the military...I cannot begin to imagine what he must feel at the thought of losing me...what demons were brought forth when he saw me fall in a hail of gunfire.
In my heart I know should something happen to me Dashiell would be devastated. I don't mean to sound conceited in any way, I am just stating fact. I know him, and I know if I were killed it would destroy him. He is a man who does nothing half way. Everything is done with a passion that precludes all else...be it his craze for literature, his ferocity in battle, his dedication to the GIJOE team, his deep loyalty to his friends and, as I am beginning to understand, his love for me.
That kind of intensity comes with a price.
Would he recover? He did when Karen left him...but she was not ripped from him by death...and even then it took almost a decade for him to heal. Would he eventually bounce back if I were to die? Would he find someone else and start a family? Would he go on with his life?
Or would he withdraw...would he hit the bottle...would he give up and succumb to depression?
I suspect the latter.
He is a strong man, tough and proud...but there are days when I truly see that I am the stronger...that he leans on me for support more than I on him. I would never suggest this to him, nor would I mention my belief to anyone. As my aunt says, he is a proud man and probably doesn't even realize he does, much less admit to it.
I do not think about losing him. The thought never enters my mind, whether as a defense mechanism to keep me from being paralyzed by worry every time he is called out to defend our nation's freedom. He seems so solid to me, larger than life, impervious to injury regardless of the scars that he carries so proudly.
...and yet, deep inside he is so very vulnerable.
What would I do if he didn't come back to me? I honestly don't know. It would certainly rip out part of my soul; change me in some fundamental way that I would never be the same person ever again. Yet I think I might be able to move on eventually...as I did when I left my mother, as I did when I lost my father...as I did with Shawn.
And yet with Dash everything is different. Am I really that strong?
Before she got off the phone, my Aunt had asked me what I planned to do. She still has no idea what my job actually is, nor does she have a clue as to the danger involved in the offer Conrad had given me earlier. Nevertheless, she has a sharp mind and has probably put two and two together.
What do I plan on doing with Duke's proposition?
I don't know.
What do I really know about his little operation? Marvin, Dash, Conrad...they never speak of it. Do I really want to find out what could possibly be so bad as to necessitate this silence? Do I really want to know what it could be that would give a soldier like Flint nightmares?
Is this really the kind of challenge I want to undertake? What is it I want to prove to the world...to myself...that I haven't already accomplished here with GIJOE? Is 'Black Ops' the next step for me? I admit I am curious, but at the same time hesitant...
"Good..." she exhaled in relief as I voiced my indecision, "...good. I was worried you had gone an accepted just to spite him. You tend to do that, I know you...like the time you were so angry at your father for leaving you behind in Scotland when he went abroad that you tried to convert to Hinduism."
"I had forgotten about that. Poor Father Mackenzie was beside himself...I thought he was going to have a stroke right there when I walked into Church carrying a statuette of Shiva!" I closed my eyes and tried not to laugh, "No, I didn't jump on the offer just to get back at him...although I considered it. I...ummm...cut all my hair off instead."
She laughed.
"Some things never change. I hope this man of yours knows what he is getting into."
"Not really...I like to keep him on his toes."
She paused in thought before continuing.
"I know I haven't met him yet, but this man is good for you mo leanabh. You mustn't be so hard on him. You must learn to let him into your life, as you demand he let you into his. A relationship is a partnership; you would do well to remember that. As my mother used to tell me, love is not a noun. Love is a verb."
With that last piece of advice our conversation ended, and now, hours later, I am still sitting up in my bed...mulling over her words and trying to rein in my anger.
Could she be right? Could I be as guilty of wrongdoing as he? Do I owe him an apology after the shit he put me through this week?
Sigh*
I guess both of us are a little too proud for our own good!