"Wake up. We're here."

"Hunh?" My eyes popped open and I stared around wildly. The last thing I remembered, I'd been clambering into the back of a Jeep, ready to be taken back to the army base we'd started out, and, hopefully, a long, hot shower. The next I knew, a familiar voice was talking to me and a large hand was gently shaking my shoulder. I was vaguely aware that I was warm, dry and resting on something very comfortable, and I didn't particularly want to move anywhere.

"Sienna – we're back at the base." I turned my head, and met Goren's eyes. They were amused, smiling at me… and very, very near to me, I realised suddenly. So near, there was only one explanation. Oops.

"Did I sleep all the way here?" I asked, removing my head from his shoulder with speed. Whoops!

He grinned. "Yes – the whole way here."

He was being remarkably polite about the fact that I'd just drooled all over his jacket. "What time is it?"

"Nearly eight in the morning," he replied. "It took us a long time to get back… the road flooded and we had to wait a while to get through. Feeling better?"

I rubbed my eyes. "Honestly? No, I had nightmares the whole way."

"Yes, I know…" His voice trailed off. "Come on, we need to get in there – Whitefield and the Army need to speak to us about the last 24 hours."

I took his hand and let him pull me out of the Jeep. "You think there's any chance of a shower?"

From nearby, Whitefield replied "Yes, so long as you're quick. These guys here will show you where you can go," he indicated two nearby Army officers. "We're still under cover, so they'll find you some fresh fatigues."

Goren rubbed his face as we followed behind the two officers to a small building I guessed was some sort of guest accommodation for visitors to the base. "You know, if you put me in a room with a bed and a shower I might not come out… send someone to get me if I'm not out in half an hour."

Yes, and if you put me in a room with him and a bed and a shower I could guarantee I wouldn't be coming out any time soon. And apparently my crush on Goren could survive even exhaustion and life or death situations.

Half an hour later, we were hanging around inside a meeting room in one of the Army's offices, waiting for some of the Army personnel to get here. I felt better for the shower. Goren had made an attempt at shaving, but I guessed he was one of those men who always look as though they forgot to shave, regardless of what time of day it is. Suddenly, Davenport bounced up to us, looking remarkably fit and well for someone who'd been covered in blood the last time I'd seen him. He had a long row of stitches over his left eye, but seemed otherwise well.

"You look disgustingly cheerful for someone facing a five-hour meeting," I said by way of greeting.

"Yeah, well, I'm on drugs." He grinned. "They think Smith might have cracked a rib or two, but they're not sure and there's nothing showing up on X-rays, so they gave me something for the pain, and here I am… I never actually passed out, so I'm not concussed. Oh, and I would bet you this isn't going to be a five-hour meeting job. Between the surveillance op, the crash, Smith going rogue and us needing to keep all this under cover, I think we're going to be here all day."

Oh God. "You really think so?"

"Yes," Goren and Davenport chorused in unison. Just then the door opened, and we trooped in.

I shall pass over the details of most of that day. Suffice it to say that we spent it stuck inside a small room with Whitefield, the Army and two very senior CIA men who'd hastily flown in to oversee putting Smith into custody. By the time Whitefield and I had started drafting our report for Interpol, we'd gone over everything that had happened, given preliminary evidence to the CIA, got our stories straight with the Army and covered every last aspect of the last 24 hours, I was fit for doing nothing except staring blankly into space, and Goren wasn't much better. During the course of the meeting, we did learn that Timkowski, Mrs Desai and the injured passengers were going to be fine, although Timkowski was going to be questioned as soon as he was well enough, and that Smith would stand trial on charges that were still being put together, but that would quite probably include treason and attempted murder. Those were the meeting's only high points.

Fortunately whatever drugs Davenport was on had the side-effect of making him slightly hyper; either that, or the tea he seemed to be drinking by the gallon. We let him do most of the talking as much as we could, whilst we drank coffee, ate tasteless sandwiches and I wondered vaguely whether Goren was wearing anything under his fatigues. He'd left his jacket collar temptingly open, and I could see bare skin underneath. Maybe he'd not brought a spare T-shirt? I knew I should have been trying to focus, and I was trying to, but I had simply reached the end of my stamina. I needed fresh air, company and food, and a chance to reconnect with the real world. That, and finding out whether Goren was naked from the waist up under that jacket. Or maybe from the waist down, or maybe both, he could be completely naked under there and there was a thought… a thought that I should try not to dwell on. At least until I was out of the meeting. Then my subconscious reminded me of our first rescue mission down to the beach and that, actually, I did know what he looked like out of his jacket. Flat belly, broad shoulders, deep chest, strong arms, fine dark hair running in a line down from his chest to… well, that was it for my concentration for pretty much the whole of the meeting.

As the afternoon light began to fade, we finally staggered out into the welcome fresh air of a pleasant summer evening. Whitefield joined us. "Well… thank you, everyone. It's been good to work with the two of you, and with you too, Sienna, well done. I may well see you again – it depends how the CIA decide to handle this. They tend to do these things quickly; they may want to see us all again in a few days to take more evidence for whatever they decide to charge Smith with."

He shook hands with Goren & Davenport. "I've checked with the Army and we're all going to be staying here overnight – the roads a few miles from here are still flooded, but we should be able to leave tomorrow. The Army will put us up in the same building you saw earlier. Anyway, good working with you, and remember we're officially not here. If you can bear that in mind, you can go off and find something to do, there's a small town a mile down the road which I'm told is where most of the off-duty soldiers hang out… See you later, Tovitz."

"See you later." As Whitefield walked away, I looked at the two of them. I hoped my eyes weren't as red-rimmed as theirs, but I suspected they probably were. Davenport took a deep breath, winced, shook his head and straightened up. "Come on. I found out from one of the officers that there's a bus leaving in ten minutes for soldiers on leave wanting to go into town, hit the nearest bar and get drunk. I intend to be on it. Let's all go, I managed to get temporary passes in and out of the base for all three of us."

"I'm not sure… I think I'll just go back to my room and sleep." I stared at the floor, until a pair of dark brown eyes interrupted my line of sight. I tilted my head up, and made eye contact with Goren, who'd somehow managed to bend down far enough to catch my attention. He looked… was I flattering myself to think, concerned? Probably not. The three of us had been through a lot together, after all. "I think you should come with us," he murmured.

"You're going?"

"Yes. It's not a such bad idea to try to reconnect with the rest of the world… just be among normal people, doing normal things. It'll help with the nightmares."

"Yeah… even if that DOES mean being stuck in a bar with fifty drunk squaddies." Andrew chimed in. I sighed, and gave way to the inevitable. "Does that mean the two of you are buying?"

Half an hour later, we got off the bus and into a large bar. We'd eventually just staggered onto the bus as we were, all of us agreeing that if we went back to our rooms and changed, we'd probably end up going to sleep. Plus none of us had brought any casual clothes. We drew some attention in our fatigues, but the place was so big it looked as though no-one was paying much attention and in any case they were obviously used to having off-duty soldiers around. We stopped just in the doorway to get our bearings. It was already so loud that we were having to shout.

"Right, mine's a double whisky, whatever they've got, plus whatever variation on burger and chips they've got," Davenport said cheerfully to Goren, fishing in his pockets.

"I'm sorry?"

"You're the only one with any chance of getting to the bar. She's tiny, and if one more person jolts my ribs, I won't be held responsible for what I'll do to them."

"I'm still here, thank you. Mine's a cheeseburger, by the way. And should you be drinking with the pills they gave you?"

"Good point. Better make it Bud."

Goren stared at both of us, then, refusing the proffered bills, departed, shoving his way slowly through the crowd, shaking his head. I was staring after his rear view when Davenport tapped my arm. "I'm off to the toilet." Two off-duty soldiers almost immediately knocked into him. "I may be gone for some time." He limped off, clutching his ribs. I decided I really didn't want to be hit on by drunken soldiers, or even sober ones for that matter. When this was over I never wanted to see another set of army fatigues again. I decided to take the 'camouflage' approach to avoiding bar sharks, and attached myself to a large group of about fifteen women who were all chatting and laughing, propped against the bar whilst two of them tried to get served. One of them tried the traditional catch-the-barman's-eye-and-bend-forwards-in-a-low-cut-top manoeuvre. It worked; he headed on over there with a focussed expression.

"Excuse me, do you live here?"

"I'm sorry?" I turned to face the speaker, a smiling brunette of about twenty-five.

"Do you live here? Oh, silly question, you must do, unless you're in fancy dress." She smiled again. I remembered suddenly that I was still supposed to be under cover.

"Uhhh… yes, I do. You?"

"Oh, we got lost on the roads earlier, then we found the road we should have taken was blocked by the rain... we're going to stay over here tonight. You want to join us whilst your friend gets the drinks?"

"Yes, why not." I merged into the group, hoping that Goren would be able to see me over the heads of the other drinkers. They were an odd bunch, all different ages from nineteen up to several women in their fifties, but very cheerful. I didn't quite catch why they were all travelling together, something about a shared hobby and them meeting up to swap notes once a year… Suddenly, the youngest one was looking at me with a questioning expression. "Hey, did you hear anything about that plane crash on the coast earlier today?" A chorus of yeahs, and interested expressions turning my way. "They're saying a bunch of soldiers were out there and helped get them out… otherwise, they'd all have drowned, if you believe the rumours."

"Uh… Yeah, yeah, I heard about that." Oh shit. I did not want to talk about this. I looked over my questioner's shoulder, and managed to make eye contact with Goren, who was turning away from the bar, beers clutched in his hands. I sent a message with my expression; Help! Rescue me! He nodded and began plowing his way through the crowds. A pointed "Hmm?" brought me back to my new friends.

"Yeah, do you know anything about it? Do you know any of the guys who were involved?" They were crowding round now, concerned, interested faces all peering at me. Did I know anything about it? Any minute now I was going to either start crying or start telling them about what it was like to pull a dead body out of the sea. Either would be seriously unprofessional, plus if I started crying I might not stop. Suddenly, a heavy arm dropped over my shoulder. And it was holding a Bud. Goren had evidently read my mind. Bless the man.

"Here's your drink… Andrew's got the food."

"Thanks... Bobby," I replied, playing along as he steered me away from the group and towards Davenport, who was shoving a burger into his mouth. Behind me, a voice called "Hey, what happened to your friend?"

Goren threw a smile over his shoulder and pulled me after him. "He tripped over a step." We rejoined Davenport and for a few minutes, none of us said anything, being too busy refuelling, although Davenport did raise an eyebrow at Goren's arm around my shoulders. I glowered at him, bit savagely into the burger and hoped uncharitably that his ribs hurt him all the way back to England. I then looked at my burger and sighed.

"What's wrong?" Davenport asked in a rather muffled voice.

"It just seems kinda weird to be doing normal stuff when Timkowski's in hospital, Smith's in jail and five people died in that crash plus everyone on Shorokogat's boat apart from his son."

"Well, you not eating and being sad won't change any of those things," Davenport pointed out, and slugged back half of his beer. I glared at him, then suddenly felt deflated. Goren put a gentle hand on my arm. "You feel bad?"

"Actually… no, to be honest." I sighed. "I feel bad that I don't feel more bad…"

"Sounds like you've got survivors' guilt. Listen, Davenport's right. We did what we could, and now we move on. If you're going to stay in this kind of work you need to be able to do that without feeling guilty about it."

Davenport nodded, and swallowed hastily. "Why, are you thinking of getting out of the translation game, moving on up?" He met my gaze, wide-eyed, and said in a tone of mock sincerity "You DO know that not all surveillance ops work out that way?" I wondered if we should be talking about this, but the bar was so loud that I doubted anyone would overhear. I smiled and nodded. "And we haven't managed to put you off? And by the way, my name is Andrew, I hate my surname."

I chuckled, and munched a fry. Beside me, Goren had finished his food and was fastidiously cleaning mustard off his fingers, reminding me irresistibly of a large black cat grooming its whiskers. He still hadn't taken his jacket off, and it was warm in here. Oh, my noticing that had not helped my problem. I was feeling decidedly, well, horny. Survivor's reflex, maybe, or possibly just being sat next to Goren and having evil thoughts about what he might not be wearing.

"No, you haven't put me off… this is going to make me sound like a thrill-junkie, but…"

"You enjoyed it?" Andrew grinned and slapped my shoulder. "Welcome to the intelligence game, sweetheart. Did I just call you that?"

"Yes, and you shouldn't be mixing pills and beer."

"You have a point. Oh well, too late." He lifted the bottle to finish it, and paused, regarding the two of us. "So, Sienna's getting out of translation and going on to better and higher things, she'll probably have Whitefield's job in a few years, I bet… I'm going back to England to hunt for Shorokogat's successor and put him out of business, unless they decide they want me to look for weapons of mass destruction in Iraq, in which case I'm quitting and opening a bar in Australia. How about you, Goren?"

Goren shrugged, and smiled. "I already get paid to do what I do best, and I am the best." Anyone else would have sounded pretty arrogant saying that, but we both understood him. Andrew raised his bottle, and the two of us raised ours. "Here's to us, then – cheers."

"Nastrowje."

"Prost ".

We drained the bottles. I felt a lot better, although the whole having-lustful-thoughts-about-Bobby-Goren thing was still hanging around. Maybe I should just go back to the base and rest. I had a book or two with me, plus I could probably sleep for the next twelve hours if I put my mind to it. "Okay, see you guys, I'm heading back."

"Ah. That might be a problem, the next bus doesn't leave for an hour," Andrew replied, looking sheepish.

"You didn't tell me that."

"You didn't ask".

"I'll walk you back if you like," Goren offered. His face was unreadable.

"Really?"

"Yes. It's not that far and the fresh air might be good for us."

"Okay, let's go." I gathered up my jacket from the chair, leaving Andrew sat finishing off his fries. He looked at me with the most knowing expression I'd ever seen, and glanced at Goren, then back at me. I gave him my sweetest smile in reply, and mentally added a postcript to my earlier wish. I hoped his ribs hurt him all the way back to England, and that he got the hangover from hell from mixing pills and beer.

Twenty minutes later, Goren and I were back at the base. We'd walked along mostly in pleasant, companionable silence, though he'd told me some amusing stories about his experiences with the NYPD, and I'd contributed with some of my experiences on my travels. Every so often, one of us would look at the other thoughtfully. I had no idea what was going on there, but I was only too aware of the effect he was having on me. I kept mentally thinking about his eyes, his hands, the strength in that body… I was flashing back to yesterday's rescue and having his arms wrapped around me… and as we neared the small buildings where we were supposed to be staying, I reached a decision. I was going to kiss him goodnight, and we'd see how he reacted to that, and then at least, even if I made a complete idiot of myself, I wouldn't go away wondering what might have happened. Luckily, this part of the base seemed to be almost deserted, they obviously didn't use it very much.

We wandered along the path back to the building. Suddenly, I nearly tripped over my shoelace, and had to stop. I bent down to tie it, and when I stood up, I was suddenly very aware that Goren was standing right next to me, way inside my personal space, looking at me with that same thoughtful expression I'd seen on his face earlier. What was he thinking? I took a deep breath. My mouth suddenly seemed to have gone dry, but I managed to get out: "Can I ask you a question?"

"Sure." He smiled, and my heart suddenly beat faster. Then, something cold trickled down my face.

"Do you think that building over there is open?" I asked suddenly. He looked puzzled for a minute, then realised why I'd asked as the sky opened. We sprinted across to the small building I'd noticed earlier, a tiny warehouse just a few minutes away from the residential block we'd been heading towards. Goren threw his weight against the door, and to our mutual surprise, it opened. We fell in and slammed the door behind us, dripping water and listening to the rain hammer down outside. I felt around for a lightswitch. A dim bulb glimmered into light, revealing it to be a very old and very dusty storehouse. Filled with crates of Army fatigues in plastic wrapping. I couldn't seem to escape the wretched things. Occasional shafts of moonlight drifted down through the windows at the top of the building, as the clouds raced by.

I turned to look at Goren. "I don't know about you, but all I seem to have done for the past day or so is get wet."

For a very brief second, a smirk crossed his face, making him look a lot younger, and, I had to admit, turning me on incredibly, although I blushed as I realised I could have phrased that a lot better. He looked me in the eye, still smiling.

"So… what was the question you were going to ask me?" He stepped closer to me, very slowly, but we were nearly in touching distance now…

I tipped my head up and met his eyes. Deep breath, and be honest. "I was going to ask whether you're wearing a T-shirt underneath those fatigues".

"Now… why exactly do you want to know that?" He tipped his head on one side, smiling now but not coming closer.

He needs me to put it into words, no misunderstandings, I realised. "I'm asking because I've been wondering that for the past day and I want to find out firsthand. I want to kiss you, I want to just be near another human being…."

Our eyes met and neither of us broke contact. I could see my thoughts reflected in his eyes, those wonderful, sleepy dark eyes… I could see him balancing up all the reasons why this was maybe not such a great idea – the age gap, the fact that we'd been working together, the fact that we lived on different continents half the time and both had demanding careers – versus all the other reasons, the fact that we'd both gone through an incredibly intense experience, that we had worked together to save so many people, including ourselves, that I'd been aware of him, his physical presence, for the past day to the extent that I could barely think of anything else right now, that he obviously felt the same way (else why would he be staring at me like that?), that we were both just slightly drunk and tired and at the same time high on adrenaline and the sheer fact of being alive and healthy, that I was female and he was male and we both wanted each other so badly right now… I could see the balance sliding, tipping just slightly, then going, sliding irreversibly towards one conclusion…

... The next thing I knew, two huge hands were around my waist, and I was being picked up as if I weighed nothing. He covered the space between us in a matter of seconds, rushing towards me, his hands around my waist, his mouth on mine. We staggered backwards; he'd picked me up, then set me down on a stack of boxes so that my mouth was level with his, his tongue darting rapidly over my lips until I opened my mouth and let him in, my arms twining around his neck. Those warm, skilful hands made their way up my body from my waist, burrowing into my hair, holding my face steady against his mouth. He tasted of Budweiser and smoke, warmth, life, maleness… he burrowed against my mouth like a starving man. I pressed against him, revelling in the feel of those muscular arms wrapping around me, of being trapped between his warm solid body and the wall behind me.

I felt as though if you could see nerve-endings, mine would be firing all the way along my body in a blaze of blue-white light, at every point where we touched, up from my belly, across my body and within my mouth, where his tongue was exploring so thoroughly, I was dizzy from the mixed sensations of his taste, his scent, the warmth of him against me. I'd been thinking about this for what seemed like forever, and now it was happening it was almost too much, my senses overloaded. I wrapped my legs fiercely around his waist, pulling him against me. He groaned deeply, and I suddenly had the impression that he'd been thinking about this too, that he'd been wanting this too, but hadn't felt he could risk asking…

I pulled back (reluctantly) from his kiss, and looked him in the eyes. I then had to focus sharply on what I wanted to say, it was so tempting just to give in and press my mouth against his lips, taking what was on offer… but what I was going to say next needed to be said. "Just so that you know… I DO want this, I want to go to bed with you, I want you so badly I'd have jumped you in the back of that Jeep if we hadn't had witnesses… and whilst we're being practical, I have a clean bill of health and I'm on the Pill."

Goren – Bobby? suddenly grinned, his whole face lighting up. "Me… me too." A pause. "About the clean bill of health, I mean."

I decided to tease him just a little. "Oh…. Just about the clean bill of health? Not about the whole going to bed thing?"

He grinned again, suddenly, wickedly, and I felt myself melt, warming under his touch, the gaze of those wonderful dark eyes. He leant in, deliberately pressing himself against me, undoing a few buttons on his jacket, revealing warm smooth skin, broad planes of muscle underneath those fatigues, answering my earlier question without words (oh, this was better than words…). His mouth pressed against my ear as those hands caressed my back, tugging at my jacket, making contact with my back, making me gasp…. He leant in and whispered hoarsely into my ear; "Oh, we're not going to get as FAR as the bed…"

Oh my…