Chapter Two
"All right, then I say we call it a night," he answered her smiling.
She quickly hid the surprise she felt at his comment, having managed to forget about their dinner arrangements given the last few days' events with the Genii. She smiled and gave a small nod. "That we can do."
His eyes held hers for a moment and then he left the office.
She looked back to her laptop and tried to concentrate: but it was fruitless.
Since John had said in the infirmary that they would "talk properly" her mind had been preoccupied with running all the possible ways that conversation could go – and how it should go.
Each scenario inevitably reached a point where they had to make a decision about whether or not to cross the line between friendship and something more. She would present all of the reasons why they needed to keep their distance – all put forward while he was standing in her personal space; his eyes holding hers intensely and her memory flooded with what it was like to feel his lips against hers.
She would argue that personal feelings might interfere with their working relationship. And he would nod. She would point out that they had to set an example to the rest of the expedition. And he would nod. Then half way through her argument – that if things went wrong, both their friendship and professional relationship would be ruined – he would smirk; and no matter how hard she tried to remain serious, a smile would creep across her face; and she would lose all sense of logic, able to focus only on his lips and how much she wanted to kiss them again.
Not once in her multiple musings did she manage to not succumb to her true feelings. And this was what her mind was reminding her of right now.
He had been right with his implication of what she was afraid of. Okay, so she was a little concerned that Phoebus might still be hidden within her and might try to kill John again; but she was mostly nervous about facing up to the fact that there was a bond stronger than friendship between them.
It wasn't a fear of having to admit her feelings, only to have him say he didn't feel the same way - he was pursuing the conversation so that seemed to show he was interested in how their relationship might progress; she was afraid of taking the step across that line.
She had realised her feelings had already taken that step when he returned from his 'suicide mission' and she hugged him. The show of emotion had been instinctive and it was only later that she had considered what it meant.
From then on she had fought to keep herself in check around him. Which wasn't easy to do. Flirtations still crept through but she figured that as long as she kept enough of a distance no one need know how she really felt – and she didn't have to face up to it herself.
When he was missing months later and she found herself unable to admit that he might be dead, she knew that what little strength she was managing to draw was coming from knowing that the others wouldn't understand if she broke down completely.
When he returned she had to stop herself from hugging him again and, as she cried herself to sleep that night, she determined that her feelings for him would be pushed to the back of her mind.
And she had – for the most part – managed to keep them there. But, of course, the back of her mind is exactly where Phoebus had found them: and when her 'guest' had said that the second kiss had been 'for her', she had meant it.
Elizabeth had been unable to hide her true desire for John from Phoebus and now it was going to take every ounce of her being – and a whole load of her poker face – to hide it from John.
But – having been once again reminded of how hard it would be to lose him – she knew that is what she had to do.
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She had considered skipping dinner; going straight to a restless sleep in her quarters; pretending that she hadn't understood the hidden meaning in his words. But she couldn't do it. Leaving him alone on the balcony with dinner for two might be just as damaging to their friendship as the conversation they were due to have. At least, this way, he would have an explanation.
She intended to hesitate outside the doors to the balcony but, in her distraction, failed to remember that the doors would open automatically.
She started at the rush of warm air against her face and managed to bury her surprise before John turned round to greet her.
"Hi," he smiled, and her resolve began to crumble already. "You're earlier than I thought you'd be."
"It's been a long day," she responded, offering a small smile of her own.
"Are you hungry?" he asked, waving his hand to his right.
She looked in that direction, finding a blanket laid out further along the balcony; sandwiches and orange juice sitting on top of it. She smiled to herself at the simplicity – the ration system didn't really lend itself to extravagance.
She must have been staring at it for too long because suddenly John was standing close to her saying:
"Are you okay?"
She turned to back to him, reprimanding herself for having jumped as he spoke. "I'm fine," she said, stepping backwards, because standing that close to him would definitely not help her cause.
He was frowning; studying her, and his gaze made her even more nervous.
"What?" she asked, desperately trying to think straight and avoid all the recurring flashes of her daydreams about this moment.
"Relax," he said – in fact, from the serious look on his face as he spoke, it could have been an order.
She was going to retort with "I am relaxed," but found herself unable to voice the lie.
"I can't," she said instead.
He stepped closer to her. "Why not?"
She took a deep breath and forced her defences up. "Because I think you're expecting more from this conversation than I can give."
His eyebrows raised and there was a beat of pause before he said: "Wow! Straight to the point."
"I thought it would be best," she said softly.
"What is it you think I want?" he asked, brow furrowed – which she had to tell herself did not make him look even cuter.
"To talk about us."
"And you can't talk about us?"
She tried to surreptitiously take another deep breath. "I can talk about why there can never be an 'us'," she stated, hoping it sounded definitive.
There was a brief silence and then he crossed his arms in front of him. "Okay then. Why can there never be an 'us'?" he queried, looking at her expectantly.
"John – "
"You said you could talk about it," he countered before she even had chance to voice her objection.
"You know why." She couldn't say anymore than that, her determination was failing her.
"Because you're my boss," he stated, adding, "Technically," with a small smirk.
She nodded.
"Because we have to set an example," he continued, taking a step closer to her.
She nodded again and told herself she should maintain the distance between them. But she didn't move.
"Because, as well as our working relationship," he carried on, stepping closer still, "we'd also be risking our friendship."
He was right in front of her now and her head was tilted back to look at him as she swallowed hard and nodded again; remaining silent for fear of what she might say if she allowed herself to speak.
His voice was quieter as he posed his next reason. "Because it's too hard to cope when you think I'm dead."
She felt her breath shake as she exhaled, and tears pricked at the back of her eyes. She nodded again, unable to form any other response.
Then he placed his hand gently on her shoulder and his thumb stroked the material of her t-shirt as he moved his head closer to hers and said, barely louder than a whisper: "Elizabeth…"
He paused until her eyes were completely focussed on his.
"… Will denying your feelings make that any easier?"
Damn him! Didn't take him very long at all.
She still did not speak. To respond would be to admit that he was right. And she might be in love; but she was still stubborn.
He must have seen this thought in her eyes because a smirk crept across his lips. "I didn't think so."
She narrowed her eyes at him. "You're not cute when you gloat you know!" she quipped.
He grinned. "But I so rarely gloat that it doesn't matter."
His other hand had moved up to her other shoulder, and now both were sliding closer to her neck, as he took the half-step needed for him to be as close as he could get without it being inappropriate.
"So now can we talk about us?" he asked, looking, hopefully, deep into her eyes.
She swallowed her rising excitement. "The other reasons still stand," she stated.
John nodded. "But the fact that I love you overrides all those."
She almost choked on whatever retort she had planned to use, and couldn't stop her smile from surfacing. "I hope you know what we're doing," she said, her tone making it sound like a challenge.
"Why?" he smirked, frowning. "Don't you?"
She shook her head gently. "I can't think straight when you're in the room… Especially when your fingers are stroking the back of my neck," she said, moving her head with the shiver caused by his touch.
"Well, thinking is highly overrated," he grinned. "… So," he continued, changing the subject – sort of, " when Phoebus said that kiss was – "
"Yes she was telling the truth, John."
"Ah. Good," he said, then he placed his hands either side of her head – as Phoebus had done with Thalan – and brought his lips close to hers. "Would you like to kiss me instead of Thalan now?" he whispered.
Then his lips brushed lightly against hers, waiting for her to respond, which she did instantly, her reply of "I'd love to," being actioned rather than spoken.
THE END