Note from your humble author: Thanks again to kittypawswrites for her (I'm assuming, please correct me if I'm wrong) continued support. To answer your question, Jim is Andrew Scott in this, but "sex dream AS" is more "Jim from IT" than "Dressed up, slicked back hair Jim." Heather notices the resemblance though. Other people are also welcome to review/comment. I love hearing other peoples' thoughts and suggestions on this. All credit to the appropriate authors/creators/artists/people infinitely better than me.
Chapter 5
Jim remained pouting throughout the ride to Heather's. She was not making the situation any better by not only playing this hillbilly hell music, but also loudly and enthusiastically singing along with it. He had to admit she did have a beautiful singing voice, but this hardly made up for the assault on his auditory system cranking out of the speakers. To try to escape the current attack on good aural taste, he escaped into the inner recesses of his mind and began to assess the situation he faced. He wondered to himself why he was there. Last night, it had seemed to make perfect sense to hop a flight and eliminate the "Heather problem" and collect Moran, but now he was less sure. "Is she really a problem? Sebastian does a fantastic job and never complains about my demands on him or his time. Is it really so bad to let him have one friend that he quite infrequently sees? She obviously cares about him. And him her, but he has been very quick to come to my defense each time, she's spoken out to me. He obviously knows where his priorities lie. And there was a certain something about her I can't quite put my finger on. She was extraordinary in many ways. Not only did she have no problem standing up to me, but according to the research from the prior night, she was brilliant and multi-talented. IQ of 167, high school valedictorian at 12, full ride to Harvard for an unprecedented triple major completed in 4 years, valedictorian to boot. Top graduate from Harvard Medical School, earning her MD, MPH, and a Masters in Psychology. Fellowship in Trauma Surgery and board certified in Surgery, Trauma Surgery, and Emergency Medicine. MBA, Ph.D., since that. Volunteered to travel to Afghanistan to work with Sebastian's unit for two tours of duty. Who the fuck volunteers to go to an active war zone to work for another country's military? Dual British and American citizenship. Married and widowed in 2001."
Jim shook his head at the last one. He was not known to be the most warm-hearted guy, but this girl suffered there. Married on September 9th and widowed on September 11th, that's some crazy shit. Jim knew from his research that Heather was in the middle of her trauma surgery fellowship that day and, according to his sources, when she was informed by Brian's Chief that he had died, she collapsed in the on-call room. Her boss had offered to send her home, but Heather just asked for one hour by herself in the on-call room and then found him and insisted on staying to "do what needed to be done." When he read that detail, Jim thought she was a cold-hearted bitch, but now he wasn't so sure. After meeting her now, she seemed warm and caring, not the kind of person who could just shrug off her husband's death that quick. He would have to get more details on that later. If she was that cold, he may have a place for her in the firm. Jim's lips lifted ever so slightly with that thought. "That mouth will have to be tamed, but I can make that my special project." Thinking about Heather's mouth took Jim's mind to another kind of business he could "conduct" with her. He slid his eyes to his left and silently appraised the raven-haired creature beside him. Her pale, flawless complexion belied her stated age of 38. He easily would have put her at least a decade younger if not more. Her forest green dress clung to her in all the right places and showed that she took her health and fitness very seriously. The dress had ridden up to mid-thigh and made Jim wish it would somehow continue the journey, as he wished to discover the treasure that it hid. Her toned legs were encased in supple black leather thigh high boots with the most fashionable of kitten heels. She obviously knew what worked on her body and appreciated fashion without being obvious.
Jim looked back at the road and realized that they were in a residential area. The streets were quiet and tree-lined. The properties were spaced out nicely and he saw signs for horseback riding and farmers' markets. After a few minutes, Heather slowed and turned into a driveway with a security gate. Heather pulled up to the control box and rolled down her window. She typed in her code and placed her left hand on the palm reader. It beeped and the gate slowly opened. Heather pulled forward and the gate closed narrowly missing the rear of the vehicle.
"Interesting security system you have. Do you have a big problem with break-ins around here," asked Jim.
"No, not really. People around are very pro-gun and home defense. No one's really dumb enough to try anything in large part to that. My dad insisted on me upgrading the security system that was here when I bought the place. He paid for it, so I just went along to make him happy. I did, however, stand my ground on the not hiring security guards. I don't need people prowling around me 24/7. I like my privacy to an extent and am quite handy with all nature of firearms. My parents are rather anti-gun, but I'm not. Took a class with Bri- … a friend several years ago and found that I was freakishly good with firearms, despite never even seeing one in person, much handling one. Kind of started a passion for me. Not just for personal safety, but more so for marksmanship and competition. Actually, that's one thing I was going to suggest while you were her, Bash. Going to the range and having a little friendly competition. You up for it? Jim, what about you?"
"I guess. I usually don't get my hands dirty, but if you two want to do it, I suppose I could manage to tolerate it for a little while."
"Cool! Maybe later today, unless you guys have something else in mind. Alright, if you guys get the luggage, I'll go open the door and then I'll show Jim where he's staying. Jim, I hope you don't mind, but you will have to share a bathroom with Bash."
After Jim and Sebastian got inside and Jim got his stuff situated, Heather gave him the house tour. Jim had to admit he was impressed. Although there were definite feminine touches, the home wasn't overly girly. Heather asked Jim about any allergies or special requests from the grocery store and made a list. "Ok guys, I'm going to run out to pick this stuff up. Bash, I would suggest you get some sleep. How's your headache? Do you want me to see the Tylenol out on the table for you? Make sure you drink some extra water. I have tap and flavored in the fridge. Jim, did you want to come with me or stay here with Bash and settle in?"
"I'll stay here."
"K. I'll be back in a bit. Call me if you need anything."
Jim watched Heather pull out of the driveway and onto the road. "So, Sebastian, we need to talk now!"
"Um … ok. What's up?" Sebastian had a sneaking suspicion he knew full well what was "up," but he was going to make Jim broach the subject.
"Full report on her. I want everything you know about her."
Sebastian sighed loudly. "Heather Janeen Weire. 38 years old. Female. Assistant Chief of Trauma Surgery at John Hopkins. Youngest one in Hopkins history. Harvard University Undergraduate, Masters, and Medical School graduate. 95, 97, 99, respectively. Bachelors in –"
"Stop, I know all of this already. I ran the standard firm background on her last night. Tell me about HER. Did she really keep working after finding out about her husband's death? Why did she volunteer to go to Afghanistan? What makes her tick? What are her weaknesses? Why are you two friends? Have you slept with her? Tell me what the background can't."
"Yes, she did go right back to work after Brian died. I asked her once and she said that she knew that there was nothing she could do to make him less dead. He was gone. She said that she had prepared herself for that possibility since they had started dating. He was a firefighter and Paramedic in New York City and she knew that that involved a certain degree of danger, but she knew he loved it and she couldn't ask him to give up his lifelong dream. She told me that her boss had wanted her to go home, but she said that that was the last place she wanted to be because everywhere she looked was Brian and she knew that she wouldn't be able to survive the night if she was alone with all of his stuff. She admitted to me that she would have gone home and killed herself right then and there if she was forced to go home. She said that at that moment, she needed to find some sort of structure out of all that chaos. Seeing patients and operating was the structure she needed. It kept her from falling apart. She said it gave her focus, something about algorithms and clear-cut decision trees based on clinical findings. I didn't fully understand because she was crying, but I figured that it was 8 years later and she had survived that long that it had to be at least somewhat okay. She doesn't like to talk about it. You know I don't fully get chick feelings, but she said that she felt safe talking to me about it, so I just tried to listen and hold her and just … I don't know be a human being for once. She was recruited by an outside contractor to work in Afghanistan as a trauma and field surgeon. I have no idea how much money she got paid, but she once told it was beyond obscene. Knowing how private contractors pay grunts, I believe it. I wouldn't be surprised if it more than bought this house, property, and several other things. I truly doubt that she actually has to work more than part time, but she enjoys it, especially the teaching aspect. I've never officially taken one of her classes, but I've seen videos and all of her TED talks and she's a great teacher. I can't explain "what makes her tick." She's the most unique person I've ever met. Honestly, even more than you. She's a tornado and at the same time a calming presence. She lights up a room, while making every single person in that room feel like the most important person there. She's … I don't know … She's her. I stopped trying to break her down into little pieces a long time ago. We're friends because of what I've already said. She's awesome, and silly, and crazy, and smart, and warm, and caring, and keeps me on my toes.
"Do you love her?"
"Yeah, I do. I love her like a little sister. Hell, I love her more than Fiona. She's not a pain in the ass stuck up princess. She's got girl balls. She has no problem putting me in my place as soon as I step a toe outside the line, but in a way that makes me love her even more. Am I in love with her? No, I'm not. Yes, we've had sex, but it was a long time ago and we were both in different places in our lives. And don't you dare ask how she is in the sack! All due respect, sir, but you can go fuck yourself if you think I'm answering that question!
"Is she in love with you?"
"No. Once upon a time, I hoped it could become that, but it didn't and it won't. She sees me as a brother and only that."
"Alright."
"Jim, what are you going to do? Be honest. Are you going to have her killed or harmed?"
"I don't know. Why? Why is she so worthy of saving? You know I've had people killed for less than what happened last night. Plead her case, Bash! What makes your darling Heather so saveable? Why shouldn't I kill both of you right now?"
Sebastian sighed wearily. "Jim, I really hope that you don't kill either one of us, but ultimately, it's up to you. You have clearly made up your mind on the course of action. I'm going upstairs to lay down. Do what you want to do. You always do anyway." Sebastian turned around and walked up to his room, collapsing into the bed.
