Chapter 9: Friends or Lovers?

It was everything the kiss at the warehouse had not been; tender, and infinitely sweet. Still…

He drew back from her, a little breathless and even more hesitant.

"That was nice." Her voice was soft, but held something unreadable at the same time.

Myles opted for a soft smile. "Very nice," he murmured, gently fingering the softness of her hair.

Tara smiled at him. "No major fireworks, though, huh?"

She caught him totally off-guard. "I—" Then he chuckled under his breath. "None for you either, I take it?"

Soft curls bounced as she shook her head. "Nope. I mean, don't get me wrong; it was as sweet a kiss as I've ever had, it just—"

"—engendered more comfort than passion."

Tara nodded. "Eloquent as always. And pretty much on the mark." A grin slid across her face. "Well, at least we don't have to worry about which one of us transfers to another unit, or trying to work that awkward 'ex' thing."

His smile turned wry. "No; I think one 'ex' per unit is more than enough, thank you."

She looked confused for a minute; then, "Oh, Myles, I'm sorry. I didn't even think about Lucy…"

He placed a finger to her lips. "It's all right, Tara. I'm well aware that I brought all that on myself, and I just hope that someday she can forgive me as much as she's accepted my several apologies for it." Now he smiled again. "I do have to admit, though, I've gotten rather used to kissing you during this assignment. It won't be as easy as I thought to go back to a simple working relationship."

"Who says we have to?"

He blinked. "Didn't we just have this conversation? I thought you said—"

Tara smiled. "Myles, I can think of a lot worse things to have in my life than a male friend who's not afraid of a little platonic affection once in awhile. There are times at the office when a glance, a soft word, or a discreet touch could surely make things a lot less stressful. And it's nice to finally feel like I have an 'anchor' on the team; I really hadn't found that, until now. Am I making sense?"

He was quiet for a minute; she could almost hear the idea working its way through those logical corridors in his mind. The smile that crossed his face was slow, almost shy, and as completely open as she'd ever seen from him.

"It does make sense. I've never had a female friend like that, though; I'm not sure I know the rules. Still…" He ruffled her hair again. "I'd be willing to give it a try. I've always kind of thought as D as my 'anchor' on the team, but it's not really the same thing. We're friends, we have an easy relationship at work; but he has his family, and that's his priority." Now a chuckle escaped him. "Besides, somehow I suspect that if I were to be holding D's hand or anything else you and I have gotten comfortable with, it would raise a few eyebrows at work."

Tara's giggle burst out of her. "True." Then she sobered, just a little. "There may be a few brows raised at us, too, you know— most people don't really understand a male-female friendship that can have a lot of affection without anything 'going on,' romantically."

"You sound like you speak from experience."

She nodded. "Yup – I had a friend in college, a guy, who was like that. He was popular, got along with everyone, but within his 'circle' he had a hug for everyone, and a 'hello' from him, if you were female, consisted not only of a big hug, but a quick kiss on the lips. Scott was a flirt, but friendly-wise. You have no idea how many 'we have to talk' conversations I got into with other guy friends after knowing Scott; once you get comfortable with something like that, it's hard to remember the rest of the world doesn't quite get it."

"Ah. I stand warned. 'Anchor' it is, then." He gave her a wicked grin. "Just as long as you don't consider me some old, rusty, barnacle-encrusted anchor."

Her eyes danced with laugher, but she kept a straight face. "Oh, never. Gold-plated at the very least."

He raised a brow at her in mock-insult. "Gold-plated? I beg your pardon?"

Now her giggle escaped, and within moments they were both convulsed with laughter. Tara regained her control first, and watched in amazement— this was a side of Myles she doubted anyone had seen in a very long time; that he would share it with her just made things even better.

"Okay, now I know we're both tired," he finally said, catching his breath.

"I think you're right," she replied, "right" getting lost in a huge yawn.

Ten minutes later, they were both settled, her on the sofa and him in the bed, even though the same brief argument had been renewed. Tara watched the firelight flickering; now that they'd stopped talking, she could hear the wind whipping around the inn, sighing like some lost soul. She turned over onto her back, trying to fill her mind with something, anything to drown out the memory of being out in the storm.

Then she turned back onto her side; it wasn't working.

"Tara." His voice slid into her consciousness like a fine blade, even from across the room.

She sat up and sighed heavily, leaning her chin on her arm over the back of the couch. "Yeah?"

"You keep tossing like that, and neither of us will sleep tonight." The smile she heard in his voice faded to concern. "The wind?"

"Yes." Another sigh. "I just can't seem to shake…"

"The memory? I thought perhaps." There was the briefest of pauses. "Come here, then."

She blinked. "Are you sure?"

There was a soft laugh. "Tara, we survived earlier today, and we're each wearing an extra layer now. I think we can manage."

" I just hate being a clingy female," she commented as she settled under the covers.

He laughed again. "Then I expect you to stay over on your side."

She smiled in the darkness. "Deal."

A few minutes later, Tara found herself still listening to the wind with a bit of fear left. She sighed, and reached a hand toward Myles, needing just a bit of contact to reassure herself. Her hand landed on the covers, directly in his warm grasp. He knows me too well already, she thought with a smile as she felt the tension fade.

It was enough; she squeezed his hand once and drifted off to sleep.

s

s

Sunday morning
8 a.m.

"Now who's taking our cover a bit over the edge?" His amused voice was the first thing she heard as sleep ebbed away.

Tara opened her eyes slowly; it took her a minute for his dry comment to register. When it did, she realized that some time during the night she had moved over and was curled up right next to Myles, with her head on his shoulder. Only the bright twinkle in his eye kept her from feeling totally mortified. And it gave her a perfect opening for something she'd been debating over telling him ever since that day at the Renaissance Hotel.

"Well, hey," she quipped with a grin, "I've been meaning to tell you; that British accent of yours is downright sexy. Guess my subconscious just couldn't resist."

That marvelously uninhibited laugh rumbled from his chest again. "Nice save." He dropped a brief kiss onto her hair. "You want first shower?"

"Nah. I'm not quite awake yet."

"Uh-huh." A lilt appeared in his voice. "Awake enough t'be kissin' the Blarney Stone, though." He was still laughing as he disappeared into the bathroom.

Tara rolled over so she could look out the window. The snow was still falling heavily and blowing fiercely in the wind. It was a barren expanse of white as far as the eye could see. The eerie sound reverberated round the house, making their isolation complete. But somehow though, it had lost its hold on her. Now it was a haven; the snowbound inn had become the one place where they both felt safe enough to drop all the barriers, the defense mechanisms, and just be themselves, for the first time in ages for either of them.

A smile blossomed on her features. She was safe, warm, and had a wondrous new friendship to explore. Life was good.

s

s

They walked downstairs, hand in hand, their personas as "newlyweds" firmly in place. The kitchen was fairly well-lit from the windows, but the kerosene lamp on the table was still burning. Ruth looked up from her Readers' Digest and coffee cup.

"Well, there you two are," she smiled. "Was wondering if we'd see you this morning."

Myles grinned. "There's very little that gets in the way of my wife's appetite. Sorry we're late," he managed to gasp out as Tara landed an elbow in his gut. He grinned at her again and pulled a chair out for her.

Ruth got up and poured two cups of coffee, then brought over a basket of warm muffins as well. The older lady eyed them momentarily as she sat down. "You know, I took a load of clean linens upstairs this morning. I have to say, for newlyweds, you all are remarkably… quiet."

Tara about lost the mouthful of coffee she'd just drunk, and Myles dropped the muffin he was buttering.

"Ruth, for heavens' sake," Cal muttered in exasperation, having just come in from filling the woodboxes again. "Don't mind her, folks. She's got a suspicious streak a mile wide, and a nose for gossip that rivals CIA Intelligence."

Tara was still trying to breathe normally again, but Myles recovered quickly. "It's all right, Cal," he said easily. "Ruth, our apartment in DC is small, and the walls are paper-thin. We had a few 'complaints' just after we got married, so we've learned to… 'tone it down' a bit. It's habit, that's all."

His partner was looking at him in veiled astonishment at how fast he could come up with these fabrications. Then she smiled and laid her hand over his. "We're hoping to purchase a home soon," she added. "Then we won't have to worry about it."

Ruth smiled in return, all traces of her earlier suspicions gone. "Well, I understand about first apartments," she said fondly. "But you all don't have to worry here, dearies. The walls are plenty thick."

Cal just rolled his eyes again. Before either of the two, now-blushing, agents could come up with a suitable response, Ruth was on her feet again headed for the woodstove. "We may not have any electricity, but I can still whip up a mean omelet. What's your pleasure?"

s

s

Sunday afternoon found them all in the living room. Myles was engrossed in a crossword puzzle; Tara was curled up next to him, reading Jane Eyre. Ruth was crocheting, and Cal was asleep in the leather recliner, snoring lightly. The large bay windows in the room had allowed a great deal of daylight in despite the heavy snow; at least until the sun started its descent toward the horizon.

The day had been very relaxed; even without the power on, they'd spent a wonderful time just chatting. Although there wasn't a lot Myles and Tara could share in the way of personal stories, because of their cover, they had a lot of fun making a few up. The trick had been to wait until the other had finished before trying to add to the story; it was an ad-lib challenge Tara had never had to work before, and it was proving to be very enjoyable.

The light was fairly dim now, even with the lamps lit; a couple of hours ago Myles had surprised Tara by pulling a pair of reading glasses out. The gold rims gave him a studious air she found both endearing and a bit funny, given his usual persona. Now, however, she both heard and felt him sigh next to her; he folded the paper and put the glasses back in their case.

"Give up?" she teased.

"On the Times? Never. Or, only because it hurts more to see than to think right now." He kissed her cheek. "Besides, there are other things much more readily visible in this light, and much more pleasant to look at in general."

Ruth chuckled. "If ever he stops 'wooing' you like that, dearie, you just let me know. I have a hundred little ways to rekindle that spark; collected them over the years from all the young couples we've had staying here."

Tara laughed. "If he ever stops, I'll just crash his office computer; you have no idea how grateful he is when I manage to repair it." She didn't realize the implication of what she'd said until she saw the look Myles was giving her. Then her cheeks reddened, but she didn't look down.

His grin spoke volumes about the teasing he'd give her later, away from other ears. "Grateful, huh? And how do you know I don't mess up my computer on purpose, just so you can come rescue me?" He ran a finger across her lips as he said it.

Suddenly, there was a charge in the air between them that neither had expected. The banter had been for the benefit of their hosts; but at the moment, all they knew was each other's eyes, and the connection the simple touch had all but burned into them.

Ruth laughed and set down her crochet. "Well, I think I'd best get dinner started. Then you two can have all night to discuss the issue." She headed for the kitchen, leaving the two agents staring at each other.

It took a minute, but finally Myles blinked. "Well," he said softly, "I guess we don't have to worry about convincing Ruth anymore, huh?"

"No." She drew back a little. "I'm sorry; I didn't mean to—"

He put a finger to her lips, glancing at Cal to make sure he was still asleep. "No, Tara – it doesn't need an apology, and we have to maintain our cover down here. We can talk later, if you want." The look in his eyes said he'd definitely consider a talk a good thing, but it was veiled enough that she couldn't tell what sort of a talk.

Tara nodded. "Okay." She gave him a light kiss on the cheek and said, "I think I'll go see if I can help Ruth with dinner."

s

s

Considering that they probably should feel a bit uncomfortable around each other, the banter at dinner hadn't seemed to be affected much by it. Tara wondered at that; Is there more here? Or are we just so comfortable in this cover after our earlier talk that… then what was that moment back there in the…

She shook her head; there was little use in trying to figure it out when she couldn't even complete a sentence in her own mind. The most annoying part of the whole thing was that her "brush with death" earlier had reminded her rather forcefully that she had no one in her life, no one who would really care if anything did happen to her.

Except the team. It was the one thing that kept her sane on this subject; they were family, plain and simple. But Myles had been right— each of the others had found an "anchor," a soul-sibling of sorts. Dimitrius had his own family, so he had become rather a father-figure for them all. But Tara had been drifting a bit; and she'd supposed that Myles was content in his own little shell…

No; she'd known, somehow, all along, that he was in the same predicament she was, except perhaps even deeper. The competitive, almost emotionally sterile childhood they'd recently learned about— as far as any "positive" emotions, anyway— had only confirmed what she'd suspected but not dared do anything about.

Maybe that's part of it, she realized. Maybe… maybe we're both so desperate for someone to connect with that we're… over-connecting? Or maybe this is what we need from each other. But then, why did nothing happen earlier?

Her head was starting to spin from the thoughts racing around in her mind. Time for a short break. Noting that everyone was finished, she caught Ruth before the older lady could rise to clear the table. "Ruth, sit still. You've been waiting on us hand and foot all day. My turn."

Ruth frowned. "You're paying guests."

"So call it an 'organized group activity'," Tara quipped with a grin. "If I don't expend some energy before long, I'm going to need a new wardrobe after your cooking."

She caught Myles looking at her with an expression he generally reserved for particularly intriguing case puzzles. And she could almost hear the same cacophony of thoughts rumbling through his head as well. Their conversation in a bit would undoubtedly prove both enlightening and, very likely, life-changing.

For both of them.

s

s

"Anything?"

His voice startled her out of her concentration. Tara brought the field glasses down from her eyes and sighed. They'd left the room dark for a few minutes to check on Jones. "Not that I can see. Either he's in one of the back rooms with just a lamp or flashlight, he's asleep early, or he decided to brave the elements. More than that, I haven't any idea; the snow's still too heavy to even see if his car is in the driveway."

"Well, it was worth a shot." Myles moved to build the fire up again as Tara lit the two lamps they had in the room. "My gut tells me he's not going anywhere. This place is sleepy enough that he should feel pretty well sheltered, particularly in the middle of a snowstorm."

The "case talk" sounded so contrived that Tara had to smile. It wasn't, of course; they still had a mission here to take care of. But after the incident downstairs, she knew they were both stalling. At least it's a comfortable stalling, she thought. That's something we haven't lost, at least.

She really didn't think they'd truly lost anything, but they did need to figure it out. A few extra minutes wouldn't hurt, though, so she sat down on the couch and watched the flames in the fireplace spring to life.

Myles stared into the fire for a long moment; his stance was relaxed, but it was obvious he was trying to sort his thoughts. Then he sat back, settling on the floor in front of the raised hearth. He held out a hand to her.

"It's warmer here for the moment."

She nodded and moved to sit with her back to the hearth, looking at him calmly. "Are you okay?" she asked. "You seem a bit… preoccupied."

His breath came out in a laugh. "You could say that. Just trying to figure out where to start, or if there's even really anything to start. Downstairs…" He met her eyes finally. "Was all that just cover, or…?"

Tara shook her head. "I honestly don't know, Myles. I know part of it stemmed from the banter we had going, but…" She sighed. "I just don't know."

"Well," he said after a moment, a twinkle in his eye. "I do suppose there's only one way to find out if we incorrectly read the signs earlier."

"Always the logical one," she countered with a smile. "When in doubt, re-run the experiment, huh?"

"Precisely." He gently ran his fingertips over her cheek. Her eyes drifted closed at his touch, and for a moment she was lost, as lost as she'd been in his eyes earlier. Then she realized it wasn't lost she felt; it was found.

Who's to say that comfort can't be enough? she thought. When you're so tired of being alone, and you find someone who can make you feel not alone, where's the harm in getting lost in that for awhile?

Her eyes opened, and she gazed up at him— trusting, open, as open as she'd allowed herself to be with anyone in ages. She watched the blue-grey eyes widen a little, then match her offering with his own. His hand settled against her cheek, and he covered her mouth with his.

It started as gentle as the previous one had; then the kiss deepened as they drank from each other what they both so desperately sought. Yet it remained comfort, far more than desire. And that's enough for now.

He released her slowly, almost regretfully; she saw in his eyes both wonder and a bit of uncertainty. Whatever he'd been expecting, it apparently hadn't been the… contentment… she'd felt and known he had as well.

Tara looked up at him thoughtfully. "Can I ask you something?"

"Sure."

"Have you ever wished that, for even one night, there was someone who could make your life not lonely?"

Myles stared at her for a long moment, his eyes widening further in something she couldn't quite decipher. "Tara, what are you asking? Because I would hope you know me well enough by now to know I don't do 'one-night stands'."

Tara smiled gently. "I hope you know me well enough to know I don't either. But I have serious doubts that anything you and I could share would be that shallow."

She watched his eyes close, his brow furrow almost in pain, and wondered at the reason. Then she reached up and gently touched his cheek. "Myles, there's a blizzard raging outside. The rest of the world seems a very long ways away, and I'm so very tired of feeling like there isn't a soul in the world who really cares about me."

His eyes opened again, and he looked right into her soul. She was expecting shock, or a smile, or anything but the reaction she got. The sorrow that filled his eyes went through her like a knife, because somehow she knew it was for her.

"Tara," he said softly, reaching out to stroke her hair. "Please, please tell me that you do not value yourself so little as that."

She drew back slightly, her own eyes widening. "Myles, it's that I—"

"—value me that much?" A smile touched his lips, but the sadness remained. "Tara, I have no words to tell you how deeply I am touched by that sentiment, but this isn't the way to show it."

"I—" She wasn't quite sure how to respond; part of her felt a deep shame that she'd even suggested it, and another part felt almost rejected. Still she couldn't look away from the fondness, the… love?… she saw in his eyes.

"Tara," he said at last, tangling his fingers in her hair. "I will hold you all night if you want, if you need that…" He smiled. "If we need that. But I will not devalue the friendship we've discovered so recently. It is a treasure too new, too precious to me, to do that to."

The tears that filled her eyes were lit by her smile. "It's that to me, too. I'm sorry—" She waved a hand at him as he started to protest. "I am sorry that I felt something so... temporary... could take the place of what we're sharing now."

He placed a gentle kiss at her temple. "Accepted, then."

A mischievous grin lit her face just then, and he raised a brow at her. "All right, what's working its way through that devious little mind of yours now?"

Tara laughed softly. "I guess we'll just have to endure Ruth's teasing about being 'too quiet' for the rest of the time here."

"I think we'll survive," he quipped, with a grin back at her. "Unless, of course, you'd like to pull the same scheme on her you did with Jones back at the Renaissance."

Now her laugh rose above the crackling of the fireplace, and she snuggled closer to her friend. "Tempting. But I think I'll behave myself this time. Ruth's too nice to do that to. Besides, I'm rather enjoying this moment. I don't need to invent one."