Determinant: a gene or other factor that determines the character and development of a cell or group of cells in an organism.
Chapter 34: Interstices - Part Eight
With their whirlwind tour of the world over, the team attends one last function in Washington. Mitch receives bad news from Los Angeles.
It took nearly six weeks for the team to complete their round of press junkets, meetings and dinners. All of them were completely drained by the time they deplaned in D.C., and when Allison told them they had one last dinner before they were free Mitch almost mutinied. Only Jamie's hand on his arm stayed his tongue, and he let her take the lead as he fought the exhaustion creeping in.
Next to him, the others were looking just as ragged. Dariela's pregnancy was finally beginning to show, and it was clear the extra weight was throwing off her balance and tiring her out more easily than she was used to. Abe spent his time divided between the events and looking after Dariela, and Mitch was fairly certain he hadn't had more than four hours of sleep in a row for a month. Even Jackson, with his seemingly boundless energy, had dark circles under his eyes. He'd spent the last six weeks trying to explain his father's actions without apologizing for them, and in more than one country he was met with an almost distant coldness. He was now living under the shadow of a man who'd helped the Shepherds sterilize the entire human race, and it was beginning to wear on him.
Only Jamie seemed in her element at each function, greeting hosts and networking with various media people with the aplomb of someone who had mastered the business. Mitch had loved watching her, had enjoyed the confidence and grace she brought to each event. She had a light in her eyes he hadn't seen in a long time, and it had only grown brighter when the news had reached them from the states.
Reiden was being indicted on multiple charges, including bribery, conspiracy and several violations of the federal hazardous waste law. It was a small fraction of the crimes they were guilty of, but it was a start. In the past few weeks there had been more and more evidence piling up against them, and each time a story broke Mitch saw the burden Jamie had carried for almost twenty years lighten little by little.
"So what is this dinner?" Jackson asked as they stepped off of the elevator into the same top floor space they'd occupied just six weeks earlier.
"Allison was vague," Jamie told him, "but she did say it was black tie, and that we're attending as guests of the President. Apparently it's some state function?"
Abe stifled a yawn with the back of his hand and checked the time. "Well, whatever it is, we have almost seven hours before the car arrives so I vote for a nap."
"Seconded," Dariela agreed, disappearing almost immediately into the room she and Abe had claimed prior. "Wake me in five hours."
Everyone dispersed slowly, shuffling toward bedrooms to catch a little sleep before they had to get up and do it all one more time. Mitch detoured to the sofa, collapsing with a sigh against the firm cushions. Jamie paused at the door to their bedroom and glanced back at him.
"You coming?"
"You go ahead," he waved at her. "I'm gonna read for a bit."
He was suddenly wired and he doubted Jamie would appreciate him tossing and turning while she tried to sleep. She waved back and shut the door as Mitch reached for her laptop. He logged in to the account Jamie had created for him and got caught up on all of his emails - mostly by trashing the ones he didn't want to bother with and moving the rest to the "Deal With This Later" folder. There were a few he did answer, like the one from his mom asking when they would finally be finished and able to visit. She'd gotten a job in Baton Rouge at one of the schools that opened last week, and now that she'd regained access to her bank account she had enough money to put down first and last month's rent on an apartment in the city. Clem had moved with her and, though she was less than thrilled at having to go back to school, she seemed to be happy.
He had just hit send when the elevator dinged softly, opening to admit Allison. Mitch glanced at the clock, then back to her. "You're early."
"I am," she breezed in and stopped a few feet from him. "I was wondering if you and I could talk."
Mitch closed the laptop and set it on the table. "Shoot."
"In private," she elaborated, angling her body back toward the elevator. "There's a lounge downstairs where we won't be disturbed."
He didn't budge.
"Fine," she lowered herself in the chair opposite him and folded her hands in her lap. "I won't waste your time or mine by being unnecessarily enigmatic. The President has asked me to extend an informal invitation for you to become the Principal Assistant Director for Science. You'd answer directly to the DOSTP, who answers directly to the President. You'd be helping to shape policies and have key input regarding the government's scientific and technological advancements. Just say yes, and the President will announce it formally at dinner tonight."
For a moment, Mitch said nothing. It took him a moment to fully process her words and when he did he still didn't believe them. He knew Allison was only relaying a message, but he couldn't help but think that the idea hadn't been the President's to begin with. He wasn't sure what her game was, but even someone who'd only known him for a few hours would know that he'd hate that job.
"Allison, what -"
"You're going to waste here," she interrupted him. "You deserve to be at the fore of this new world we're crafting, not posing for pictures and eating overpriced dinners."
"You're the one who set up all those dinners," he countered hotly, his voice pitched low to keep from waking the others. "Not in a million years would I ever consider taking that job. I hate politics."
Allison straightened almost imperceptibly in irritation. "It's not like you have any other job offers lined up."
"Well, I haven't exactly had a lot of free time to go on job interviews, have I?" He stood and she did, too. "I think you should go now. We'll see you in a few hours."
But Allison rarely let anyone else get the last word. "Think about it."
Mitch didn't even turn around as she left. He sank back down onto the couch as the doors slid closed and the car started to descend. He replayed her offer over in his head and wondered what she could possibly have been thinking. His head fell back against the cushion and he blew out a breath through his nose. When that didn't relieve the headache he felt beginning to pound, he took his glasses off and pinched the bridge of his nose.
"You should."
Jamie's voice startled him so badly, he almost fell off the couch. She was leaning against the now-open doorway wrapped in a soft gray robe he recognized as the one she'd gotten in Tokyo. He replaced his glasses and sat up straighter as she came over and sank down next to him.
"What?"
She tucked one leg under her so she could sit facing him. "Think about it. It's quite an offer."
"Can you honestly see me working in government?" he asked her bluntly.
"No, but Allison's right about one thing. You don't have any other offers. None of us do." She tucked her hair over her ear in a gesture he recognized as a fidgeting habit rather than necessity. "Abe, Dariela and Jackson are going to back to Africa. They at least have the start of a plan. You and I? We don't have anything resembling a plan."
"You're writing a book," he pointed out.
"Hardly a lucrative career at the moment," she returned just as quickly. "I'm not saying you should take it, but I do think you should at least consider it."
"Well, I'm hoping to hear back from my colleagues at the L.A. Zoo. I emailed them before we left Japan, but I haven't heard back from anyone yet."
That seemed to surprise her. "Do you think any of the zoos survived? Or that anyone is going to want to go to a zoo soon?"
"I don't know," Mitch shrugged, reaching for the laptop again, "but I do know I'd rather be in a zoo than in some stuffy government office." He tried to make it clear in his tone that he didn't want to talk about it anymore, and she seemed to get the hint.
"Alright," Jamie reached out and squeezed his knee affectionately. "You should try to grab a nap before dinner." She used his leg to lever herself up, then retreated back into the bedroom. After one more check of his still-empty inbox, he joined her.
"Is it just me, or is this dinner way fancier than the other ones we went to?"
Mitch heard Jackson's quiet question but didn't answer, too busy searching for any familiar faces to worry about it. He had to agree, though; the throngs of military personnel in their dress uniforms and civilians in tuxedos and evening gowns made it clear that this was no ordinary dinner.
"Jamie said our table was somewhere on the north side of the ballroom," he told Jackson. "Do you have any idea which way is north?"
Jackson jabbed a finger off to their left. "That way." It was the same direction as the raised dias, bedecked in an ornate cloth and emblazoned with the President's Seal. Various Cabinet members and their spouses were already seated up there, though the President himself was nowhere to be found.
"There they are," Jackson pointed out, and Mitch glanced over. Abe was hard to miss, standing almost a full head above the others around him. The white shirt of his tuxedo was a stark contrast to his dark skin and black jacket, and as they approached he fiddled absently with the bowtie around his neck.
Dariela swatted his hand away as Mitch and Jackson joined the others. Jamie was absent, but it only took her a few seconds to materialize from a small group of gathered partygoers off to the right. Both women had dressed to the nines, having disappeared down to the hotel's spa and salon around five. Mitch hadn't seen them since.
"Wow." It was the only thing he could manage to say, stunned as he was at the approaching woman. Jamie had found a deep green gown, cut perfectly and shaped to every curve of her body. Her hair had been twisted into an elegant updo, and the makeup she wore was just enough to highlight every perfect feature of her face.
"That was the effect I was going for," Jamie smiled. "And may I say that tuxedo looks ravishing on you." Her hands moved to his lapels, tugging gently to pull him down for a kiss. His hands fell to her waist automatically, and he couldn't help but caress the soft fabric with his fingertips.
"Alright you two," Dariela warned teasingly. "Save it for later."
Mitch was content to ignore her, but Jamie pulled away with a coy little smile and stepped back. "I'm glad Allison gave us a heads up on the dress code tonight," she said. "We would have been woefully underdressed."
Mitch opened his mouth to make a very smooth comment about her never looking out of place, but the microphone squealed quickly and the MC for the evening announced the arrival of the President and his wife. Everyone stood, turned toward the dias and clapped politely as the couple waved in greeting and took their seats.
The MC waited until the applause died down before continuing. "If everyone will find their seats, we can begin tonight's celebration."
"Celebration?" Abe whispered as they each found their place. Small white cards sat on each plate, each inscribed with their names in a loopy gold font.
Mitch held Jamie's chair as she sat in the seat next to his. "You think the President is more of a balloons or confetti guy?" He ignored Jamie's quiet warning to behave as he sat down, angling his chair so he could better see what was happening on the platform.
"Thank you," the MC said. He was a young-ish guy, early thirties probably, with neatly coiffed blonde hair. He looked comfortable at the microphone, and among the nation's leaders, so Mitch guessed he'd done this before. The man waited a few seconds for the susurrus to die out before he began his speech. "Good evening Mr. President, assembled members of the Cabinet, members of Congress, ladies and gentleman. Thank you for coming to this very special dinner, on a night none of us believed could be possible just a few months ago. My name is Brad Heltzer, and I am your Master of Ceremonies…"
Mitch tuned out Brad the MC and began to look around. As he did, he realized he did recognize a few of the attendees. One of the doctors that pioneered research for childhood diseases was sitting with her husband near the opposite wall. Mitch had met with her a few times back when Clem was seven or eight to see what could be done about his daughter's Glazier's Disease. She had been regretful that she couldn't be more help, but she had opened some doors for trials and tests that Mitch would have otherwise missed. Clem hadn't gotten better, but Mitch had always felt bad for not thanking the woman more for everything she had done. Perhaps tonight he could.
A few tables away from her sat Doctor Timothy Kevins, a renowned ecologist and mathematician. Mitch had read a few of his publications and only recognized him from the photos that often accompanied the articles. In fact, the more Mitch focused on the crowd, the more he began to piece together what tonight was really about.
"Uh, guys?"
Jamie waved discreetly, her eyes never leaving the speaker. "Shh!"
Brad was winding down his welcome speech. "...going to have a great evening. Ladies and gentlemen, the President of the United States."
Everyone applauded again as the President stood and shook Brad's hand. He stepped up to the podium and held his hands up to get everyone to settle.
"Thank you," he spoke clearly, his voice crisp and booming. Mitch wondered if he even need a mic. "I'd like to thank all of you for joining me tonight. As Brad said, it's a night none of us were sure we'd ever experience again. We've been through some terrible times, but the people of the world rose to meet the challenge with courage and steadfast determination. Even when the odds seemed impossible, even when all hope seemed lost, we never wavered. We believed that there was a light at the end of the tunnel. We believed that - as we have always done in the past - we would find a way to persevere and triumph over the trials that we faced.
"None of us is untouched. There isn't one person in this room who didn't experience a loss of some kind over the past two years. Whether it be professional or personal, we have sacrificed. But I would like to take a moment to honor those who lost their lives to this great tragedy."
The room fell silent. Not even a rustle of fabric could be heard as the gathered observed a moment of silence. Mitch felt Jamie's hand slip into his own, and he knew that she - like him - was thinking about Chloe. Chloe, who would have been right at home in a setting like this, who had kept them focused and driven even when their support system had been revealed to be a house of cards. Chloe, who had known the mission was more important than any one person, who had ultimately given her life to stop the end of the world.
Then, just as quickly as it had begun it was over. "Thank you. Most of you know why we are here today. In times like these, it's important to restore a sense of normalcy. Recovering from something like this won't be easy or quick. Each of us will heal in our own time and learn how to move forward. But before we do, we must acknowledge the work that led us here. None of this," he gestured grandly around the room, "would be possible without the tireless efforts of these men and women." His hand stopped just a little to his right, his hand outstretched palm up toward Mitch and his friends.
Suddenly all eyes were on them, and Mitch fought the urge to squirm. They'd been the center of attention at a number of functions in the past six weeks, but it never got less awkward for him. He wondered why Allison hadn't given them a heads up; it wasn't as if they would have said no to the President.
"Will the five of you please come up here?"
Mitch froze in surprise at the request, but as Abe stood up so did he. He helped Jamie up the steps before following her, coming to rest just next to her as the President turned slightly to address them while still talking into the mic.
"This team of amazing individuals took on a task that many of us would have shied from. I, and many of my Cabinet members, have heard their incredible story firsthand. I believe Miss Campbell is currently drafting a book based on it, so I won't spoil anything," he smiled charmingly at Jamie who just smiled back, "but let me just say that there are moments that are simply unimaginable. They faced danger head on, pieced together the puzzle and crafted a cure all in the span of a few months. Unfortunately, the mutation in the animals proved a more formidable foe, and it would take another year of work to finally find a solution that worked. They showed bravery in the face of impossible odds, and through their work they saved the lives of - not only every American - but every single man, woman and child in the world.
"So allow me to extend my thanks. As President of the United States, on behalf of the American people. As a citizen of the world, on behalf of all of us. Thank you." He turned toward the man sitting just to his left, and Mitch finally saw the long wooden box that had been sitting rather innocuously on the table.
The President turned with the box in his hand and gestured for them step up closer. "In acknowledgement of your achievement, and as humble thanks for your efforts, I hereby award to the five of you the nation's highest civilian honor, the Presidential Medal of Freedom." He opened the lid to reveal the medals, all laid neatly in dark purple velvet. He slid the first one out and turned toward them expectantly.
Mitch actually had to nudge Jamie forward when her name was called. She took one halting step, then seemed to regain her composure as she came to a stop next to the President. She lowered her head as he placed the medal around her neck, shook her hand and thanked her again. Her eyes were wide when she turned around to walk back, her lips mouthing a "wow" to them as the President called for Abraham. Dariela was next, then Jackson.
"Doctor Mitchell Morgan," the President announced, and Mitch shuffled forward awkwardly. He kept his eyes on the man in front of him and tried not to think about the hundreds of people just beyond who were staring at the moment with rapt attention. He shook the President's hand and accepted the medal, but before he could retreat back to the relative safety of his friends he was stopped by a hand on his arm.
"Doctor Morgan, as many of you know, was a veterinary pathologist in Los Angeles before the Beast Rebellion. He's not a geneticist or a vaccine specialist. What he was asked to do should have been impossible, but according to every story I've heard about the man, he thrives on the impossible." A wave of chuckling pulsed through the crowd as the President reached back into his box. "And so, for his contributions to the field of genetic research, his devotion to scientific processes and discovery, and his pioneering work and distinguished service, I hereby award Doctor Mitchell Morgan the National Medal of Science."
Another medal was draped around his neck, the weight of it slightly less than the first. The President shook his hand again, though Mitch barely heard his thanks over the applause that followed. As he turned to walk back to his place in line, Mitch caught sight of one more medal encased within the box. He didn't have time to think about it as Jamie caught him in a congratulatory hug, followed by the other three. He accepted their praise almost robotically, his hands moving to embrace his friends even as his mind tried to analyze everything that had happened in the last few moments.
But the President wasn't done. "There is another member of their team that could not be with us tonight. Chloe Tousignant gave her life in Vancouver six months ago, making the ultimate sacrifice to save us all. She, like each of her teammates, is a hero and this ceremony would not feel right without acknowledging her contribution. Accepting the honor on her behalf is her sister, Nathalie Tousignant."
The room broke out into more applause as a young brunette with a somber expression ascended the steps. She was accompanied by a man in his mid-thirties, though Mitch didn't recognize him. They walked so closely together that Mitch could only see half of her body, and as she turned to face the President he saw why. Her left hand had been severed at the wrist. A memory surfaced of him standing in an IADG break room as Chloe revealed a dark truth.
"They tied me to a chair and made me watch as they tortured my sister. They cut off her hand when I wouldn't tell them what they wanted to know, and it was made clear that if I didn't cooperate they would kill her."
He remembered her face as she'd told him, the heartbreak and pain she'd been hiding from them as she forged ahead with their mission. There had been regret, too, and Mitch realized that Chloe had never gotten the chance to reconcile with her sister before she'd died. But Nathalie's presence now must mean that whatever had happened between the two women was all but forgotten.
The President handed the medal to Nathalie Tousignant and whispered a few private words to her. Nathalie nodded and gave the man a small smile through her tears. With one last handshake, Nathalie and her escort stepped back and took up a position on the opposite side of the podium from Mitch and the rest. He tried to catch her eye, to somehow communicate to Chloe's sister how sorry he was that he couldn't save her. Guilt began to creep over him as he stood there listening to the President talk about Chloe's illustrious career at the DGSE, her many accomplishments and her never-ending faith in the perseverance of the human race. With each word the medals around his neck grew heavier, like the chains of Jacob Marley. Her ambition, her compassion, her tenacity - all of it had been cut tragically short because Mitch hadn't been good enough to save her. She'd trusted him, befriended him, cared about him, and when she'd needed him most he'd failed her.
Mitch was so caught up in his own self-condemnation that he missed the last of the President's speech. Only the thunderous applause of the assembly jolted him out of his thoughts. He followed the others off the stage, very nearly stumbling down the steps before Abe discreetly paused just enough so Mitch could reach out a hand to his shoulder to steady himself. Every table they passed offered their congratulations, though Mitch barely heard them.
"You alright?" he heard Jamie whisper as they took their seats. The President had relinquished the mic to Brad once more, and the MC was relaying a particularly amusing-in-hindsight anecdote about his harrowing run in with a troop of escaped tamarins from the National Zoo.
"Yeah." It was only when he looked up that he realized Jamie hadn't been speaking to him at all. She'd been talking to Jackson.
The man's face was taut with irritation and Mitch recognized the fire of resentment in his eyes. He'd had the same look for the first few days after he'd found out his father was still alive. At Jamie's question, his brow furrowed and he shook his head.
"It's just that guy," he spoke quietly, mindful of the MC and the surrounding tables. "The one with Nathalie? That's Chloe's ex-fiance. He…" A muscle in Jackson's jaw twitched as his eyes cut over to the table where the two sat in close proximity. "Chloe caught them together before the wedding. She called off the engagement, but since the honeymoon trip was already paid for she went to Africa on her own."
"Where she met you," Abe nudged his oldest friend gently. "Things unfolded as they should have. Don't dwell on the negative, rafiki."
"Forget about it," Dariela seconded. "Enjoy the night."
The night lasted a lot longer than Mitch would have liked. Once the President ended the official portion of the evening, they were inundated with well-wishers from all sides. Mitch had never shaken so many hands in his life. He clenched and unclenched his hand reflexively as they ascended the twenty floors of the hotel in silence. All of them seemed completely spent, and as soon as the doors opened they shuffled through the common area to their rooms with little more than mumbled goodnights.
Jamie jumped in the shower first. He had a brief inclination to join her, but the weariness in his heart stopped him. He probably wasn't going to be very good company tonight. He almost opted for sleeping on one of the sofas in the common area, but thought twice. The others would no doubt poke and prod the next morning if they found him out there and not in bed with his wife. And so he slipped the medals off of his neck and laid them on the dresser next to Jamie's. He stared at them for a moment, his eyes mapping the gold eagles outstretched around the star on the Medal of Freedom, then the more simplistic circle of the Medal of Science.
Not surprisingly, it was the second one that meant more to him. It was awarded to individuals of the highest scientific caliber, names like Van Niel, Nirenberg and Skinner. People he'd read about in textbooks. That, of course, led to the surreal realization that his name would soon be printed in a book for school children to read. He wondered if they'd print his failures along with his successes. He doubted it. A list like that might make them think twice about his current status as a hero of the people.
He sank down onto the bed bonelessly, his body finally giving up the fight to remain upright despite the exhaustion in his bones. He almost let his eyes fall closed, but the sound of the shower running through the closed bathroom door reminded him that he needed to stay awake for a few minutes longer. He definitely needed a long soak tonight.
He decided to check his emails in an effort to stay conscious, though he really didn't expect to find anything new since this afternoon. He was surprised, then, when two new subject lines appeared in bold print on his screen. One was obviously spam, which he dragged to the junk folder immediately. The other was from Daniel Hartcliff, Curator of Mammals for the Los Angeles Zoo.
Dr. Morgan,
I am happy to hear that you survived the chaos of recent events. When you disappeared last June, several of us tried to track you down. I'm not sure if you've been keeping up with zoo news across the country. It's bad. Most zoos in major cities lost a lot of containment. Los Angeles suffered one of the worst at almost 80%. The AZA is currently in the process of assessing zoos and figuring out which ones are still capable of supporting their animal populations and which ones need to be shut down completely, like ours. Animals that have either been tracked down or never left their enclosures are being catalogued and sent to zoos that can house them. It's a slow process, but hopefully one day we can reopen.
I am sorry to have to be the one to tell you this, but since most of the upper management is gone, I suppose I'm the only one who can. Of all of the veterinarian staff at the zoo, you're the only one still alive. There was an accident shortly after you disappeared. The vet staff and the lion keepers had moved the pride to the hospital for observation. Somehow the females escaped containment and killed both Dr. Bonner and Dr. Gaines, along with the techs, office staff and two of our volunteers. The zoo was closed completely after that, and I suppose you know the rest.
I am truly grateful for all you and your team have done to ensure the survival of not only the human race, but the whole of the animal kingdom. It was an honor to work with you and, should you need anything, my door is always open.
Best of luck,
Daniel Hartcliff, Ph.D.
Acting Director of Operations, Los Angeles Zoo
Mitch sat on the bed in stunned silence for a moment, his fingers hovering over the keys. He didn't even know how to draft a reply to that. Gone. His colleagues at the hospital, their techs, even the receptionist...all dead.
Shortly after you disappeared...moved the pride to the hospital for observation.
Had it been his fault? He'd talked to Aspen just before he'd left (disappeared, the email had said), asking to borrow the cub to perform some tests. Had she relayed that to her supervisor after they couldn't find him? Had they assumed they could figure out what was happening by examining the rest of the pride?
Of course they had. It's what he would have done in their place.
Mitch slammed the laptop closed and tossed it less than gently onto the bed next to him. It bounced softly once then stilled. Mitch glared at it.
"Easy, cowboy. That laptop has the only copy of my manuscript right now." Jamie was done with her shower. He hadn't even heard the water shut off, too caught up in the downturn his evening had taken. She was dressed for bed in the flannel pants she always wore under a gray shirt she probably stole from one of her cousins. It had a faded gold fleur-de-lis outlined in black on the front and the name of what Mitch guessed was probably a sports team above it. The hem reached almost to her knees and the worn material looked soft, like it had been washed over and over again.
She must have seen something in his eyes, because the smirk fell from her face almost the moment he looked up. Her soft footfalls brought her to him and she sank onto the bed next to him, her slight weight barely dipping the mattress.
"What's wrong?"
Instinct made him shrug, dismissing her concern and his grim thoughts all in one gesture. "It's nothing," he told her, shifting his weight to stand. "I'll be out in a minute." He retreated to the bathroom quickly before she could stop him and pry it out of him. Because she would. His unwillingness to hurt her by keeping secrets from her aside, she was damn good at getting information out of people. It wouldn't be long before he was spilling all of the bleak, morbid thoughts that his mind had conjured in a short time.
He shut the door behind him, locking it after only a few seconds of deliberation. He wouldn't put it past her to barge in on his shower to get him to talk, and as much as he loved her he really needed to be alone right now. Jamie had hung her dress on a hanger on the back of the door, no doubt letting the steam from the shower work out any wrinkles it had acquired during the evening. Mitch just dropped everything in a pile and stepped into the hot spray, letting the momentary shock burn away the darkness that had begun to creep in.
At least ten people were dead because of him. When Jamie had called and asked if he'd accompany her to Louisiana, he'd only put up marginal resistance. The truth was, he was so enamored with her she probably could have asked him anything and he would have gone along. He'd cancelled his classes and used a couple of sick days to cover his zoo obligations, all because a woman he'd known for a week had asked him to fly halfway across the country on a longshot. He could have written up a report, left a note for the keepers - some kind of warning, anything - but instead he'd decided to keep things quiet (because technically he wasn't supposed to be using zoo resources for personal research). He'd lied to Aspen by omission, and hadn't thought twice. Of course she would be curious. They were her animals, after all, and something was wrong with them.
So when Mitch hadn't returned from his sick leave, they'd obviously tried and failed to find him. It didn't take a genius to figure out where their minds had gone after that. Aspen would mention his interest in the lions, and in order to do the proper tests they would need some of them in the hospital. Instead of splitting the pride, which seemed to cause distress to all of the animals, they'd transferred all of the lions into quarantine. With Nick and Eddie gone, that left their breeding male, three females and two cubs. That decision had been their death sentence.
Mitch thought about the two vets he'd worked with, John Bonner and Emilia Gaines. They'd both been so welcoming when he'd first arrived at the zoo, and despite his rather gruff demeanor he hadn't taken him long to feel comfortable among his coworkers. They were all animal people, and animal people were Mitch's people. He couldn't remember if they'd left families behind. He guessed so. And their grief was his fault, too.
He bathed on autopilot, and as the last of the suds disappeared down the drain he shut off the water. He listened for a moment, wondering if Jamie had stayed up, but he could hear nothing over the sound of the drain. He toweled off quickly, cursing under his breath as he realized he hadn't brought anything to change into. He glanced at his tux, crumpled on the floor, and shook his head. He didn't even want to reach down to pick it up, much less put any of it back on. He wrapped the towel around his waist and unlocked the bathroom door.
He gasped quietly as the cold air from the bedroom hit his shower-warmed skin. Jamie was curled up on her side of the bed, the light from his lamp casting a soft yellow glow over her face. Her eyes were closed, but something about the way she held herself too still told Mitch she wasn't sleeping.
Still, he kept his steps as quiet as he could as he made his way to the suitcase sitting on the dresser. Neither of them had bother unpacking, unsure how long they would be staying here after tonight. He heard Jamie shifting behind him, and by the time he'd fished boxers and a white undershirt from his belongings he felt the warmth of her at his back.
"I'm sorry," she laid her hand lightly on his shoulder, pressing her palm into the space just below his neck.
Mitch tried to keep his tone as neutral as possible. "For what?"
"I got curious," she offered by way of explanation. "I read the email. I'm sorry about your friends. And for snooping," she added as an afterthought.
He wasn't even mad at her. Truthfully, he was glad he didn't have to explain it to her. Now that she knew, he could accept her condolences and move past it. "I'm alright," he promised her, turning to face her properly. Her hand slid over his shoulder and fell to his forearm, and she wrapped her fingers around his wrist and squeezed gently.
"I know you probably don't want to talk about it right now," she shifted her fingers down a bit more, "But I'm here if you need me." And just like that she'd grasped his hand, anchored him in the storm of his own emotions.
He didn't really think about doing it, but suddenly he tugged and she was in his arms. He kissed her deeply, greedily, and she responded. He tried to tell her without words that he'd always need her, that life without her was not a life worth living, that if she ever left he would be lost beyond all hope or reason. He let her hand go to cradle her face in his palms, angling her under him in effort to get just that much closer, to fuse them together so tightly that nothing could tear them apart.
Another blast of cold hit him, and he realized that she'd untied his towel almost the same moment he'd let her hand go. He quickly replaced the warmth of the fabric with the warmth of her, and her hands slipped around his waist to caress his back. He hissed slightly as her fingers gently passed over his scars, the pinkish skin still sensitive to touch.
"I'm sorry," she whispered, moving her hands to rest on his hips. "I didn't mean to hurt you."
Mitch shook his head and closed his eyes, willing the involuntary twitching of his lower back to stop. When it did he turned his head to survey the long, jagged marks in the mirror above the dresser, grimacing at the ugly crisscrossing that marred his skin. The doctor had stitched him up the best he could, but a cargo plane wasn't exactly the best place to do it. He'd been warned there would be scarring, but at the time his only thoughts had been to get to Clem and Jamie as fast as possible. Now he wished he'd gone to a hospital first; then maybe it wouldn't look so horrible.
"Don't," Jamie's palm came to rest against his cheek, and at her gentle insistence he turned back and looked down at her sadly. "I know what you're thinking, but I don't care. I wouldn't care if you had scars all over your body, I would still love you. They're a part of you, a part of us," she corrected sharply, reminding him of her own imperfections, "and I wouldn't change them. Scars are important, Mitch. Scars mean we lived."
She stepped forward just a bit more, fitting her smaller body against him completely. She draped her arms loosely around his back, but when his own tightened around her she reciprocated. Mitch didn't know how long they stood there tangled in each other, but when Jamie finally stepped away his skin was cool and dry. She kept hold of his hand as she walked back to the bed, and Mitch only faltered for a second before he dropped his clothes and joined her.