A/N: Sorry for the delay! We are migrating slowly across the northern United States. Thanks for riding along!
Points to Capricorn 75 for noticing the 'haystack hair' reference in Chapter 22. Another reader suggested Twilight Bingo. That would be fun!
"What are you afraid of?"
The first question came after they had rejoined the interstate, filled up the gas tank and were another 20 miles down the road.
"What am I afraid of? That's an awfully broad question."
"What are the first things that come to mind?"
"Spiders. Pigs. Drowning."
"Pigs?" he asked with a sideways glance.
"I know that's a weird one. Most people say clowns or heights, but I hate pigs. I read a news story once where a serial killer was disposing of bodies by feeding them to his pigs. I don't know why, but it stuck with me. I have this recurring nightmare of being trapped in a muddy corral with these massive hogs. I try to climb over the fence, but my foot slips. I fall in the mud and I can feel it sucking me down like glue. I hear their hungry grunting, slurping sounds right above me, then I wake up." She shivered despite the sunny day. Even in daylight the dream had the power to envelop her in the horrific sounds and smells.
"Okay. Pigs. Anything else?"
Bella thought hard. Fear wasn't an emotion she wasted much time on. If there was a threat, she preferred to spend her energy on finding a way to fight it, neutralize it or escape from it. Fear made all of those paths more difficult. The worst part about her recurring nightmare was the feeling of helplessness. The inevitability of defeat. She was about to add one more item to her list, but she held back.
Agent Masen noticed. Of course. "What is it?" he prodded.
"It's not a normal answer, I don't think. It's just. . . I'm afraid of losing my parents, which is dumb, because there's nothing any of us can do about mortality. I've been afraid of it ever since I was a little kid, and I learned that being a policeman could actually be dangerous. We attended a memorial for a cop that was shot and killed during a routine traffic stop. My dad knew him from the police academy. Up until then, I think I looked at my dad as this invincible super hero. Nothing could hurt him. But then we went to the memorial, and the officer who died had a wife and two boys younger than me. I couldn't sleep for days after that. I was afraid that I would wake up one day and he would be gone, too. My parents let me sleep in bed with them for a week even though I was almost eight years old."
"It sounds like a reasonable fear. I would guess that most people share it."
"Maybe. Being an only child probably makes it harder. When my parents are gone, I'll be all alone. I don't have any cousins. My mother's older sister never got married, and my dad was an only child, too. I went through a phase where I used to pray that I would die first, which is pretty selfish, I guess. Or I asked God to make sure we all died together in a freak accident like a plane crash so none of us would have to cry." She felt her eyes watering and swiped them with the back of her hand. "Now I'm crying. See? It's dumb."
"I don't think it's dumb at all," he reassured her.
"Not even when it's something that people across the world live through every single day?"
"People live through unimaginable horrors every day. That doesn't diminish fear, it increases it. Your fear of pain and loss are a natural byproduct of caring about somebody. Unlike other fears and phobias, being exposed to the source of the fear only makes it worse."
"Are you speaking from personal experience?" She searched his face, but his expression was wooden.
"It's something I've observed." He didn't offer up any more details.
A few minutes later, Bella asked, "Aren't you going to ask me something easy?"
"Like your astrological sign?" he quipped.
"Sure. Or, oh, I don't know, basic trivia. You said you wanted to ask the questions this time, but I didn't expect you to jump straight into psychology and philosophy."
"Those are the only details that weren't included in your profile."
"And this is another one of those things that has been bothering me from the get go. What exactly is in my profile? And why do you get to read mine, but I've never seen yours?"
"Now who's asking the hard questions?" he responded with a grimace. "Your profile includes every documented piece of your history: education, finances, relationships, training scores and instructor observations, lie detector transcript, medical records. It's pretty comprehensive."
"Wow. Okay. Pop quiz: Who was my 2nd grade teacher?"
"Mr. Halloway, deceased. Commented that you were a born peace-keeper among your peers, but that you were rebellious and lacked respect for authority."
"I didn't lack respect for authority per se, just his authority. He was an old gossip. And he used scented lotion on his hands."
"Ha ha. I can see how that would knock him down a rung or two in your esteem."
"You really read that in my file?"
"That's just one detail that stuck out," he shrugged his shoulders.
"I don't know what to say. That's really. . ."
"Creepy? Scary?"
"I was going to say impressive. I bet I would learn a thing or two reading about myself from big brother's point of view."
"That's one way of looking at it."
"So, when do I get to read yours?" She was applying another thin layer of antibacterial ointment to her collection of scratches as they talked.
"It's classified. Above your paygrade. Above mine, too."
"Wait. . . you can read mine but not your own? Why? That's completely ludicrous."
"I could make an educated guess. Or three. It's probably a combination of factors. Classification of past missions. Unfavorable comments from officials that hope I will still like them and listen to them if I don't know what they say about me behind my back. Or maybe they just want to piss me off."
Bella laughed, "Yeah, right. As if you give a shit either way."
"Exactly. But when you're mired in politics, being liked is as important as oxygen for survival. It warps the psyche."
"I believe it. Come on. Humor me. Ask an easy one."
"What do you want to be when you grow up?" His tone was playful this time and she was relieved.
She started singing the Toys'R'Us song. He responded by turning on the radio. Unfortunately, they were deep in the Rockies, and the first station he found was crackly country music.
"You prefer this over my singing?" she said in a mock-offended voice.
"I decline to answer pursuant to my fifth amendment rights."
"That's okay. I know this one," she said and started singing along, laughing as he grimaced. Bella preferred the light-hearted tone, so she didn't encourage him to ask more questions. But she did wonder about the only one he had asked. He wanted to understand her fears, but why? How did that detail play into their mission planning? And what did he really think about her answers?
They bought take-out after they passed through Butte and ate it at a picnic table in a small park on the outskirts of town. They stretched their legs at a nearly deserted rest area a couple of hours later. It was late evening when they finally pulled into the driveway of a beautiful hotel in Sheridan. Bella was not used to sitting for so long. She was antsy from being confined and couldn't wait to get up to their room so she could move about freely.
"Stay close. Be quiet," Masen reminded her as they pulled to a stop in front of the valet station. His movements became fast and abrupt, and his expression hardened as he slipped into his role.
Bella felt the thoughts, feelings and personality she knew as Marie swimming out from her chest to possess her mind and limbs. It was getting easier to feel her. When she was Marie, eye contact was almost impossible, she couldn't stand up straight and her movements were skittish, almost spastic. She tripped and slipped along behind her owner as he entered the hotel lobby and retrieved the access card for his reserved suite. He beckoned impatiently to the bellboy who was pushing their luggage cart. He didn't spare her a single glance.
Bella chanced a quick look over her shoulder to the desk clerk as they entered the elevator. The young man was biting his lip and watching her with a disturbed expression on his face. Yes he would remember them, and that was all they needed tonight.
Safely in their room, Bella kicked off her shoes, flopped face down across the bed and spoke into the mattress, "I hate traveling."
"Necessary evil. Food's on its way, then we've got some training to do. You'll need to take off your jewelry."
That got her attention. She perked up immediately. "Ooh, fun. Ball busting practice?"
"Let's not call it that, okay?" he groaned.
"No pain, no gain."
"Yes, well, that is the general idea behind everything we're doing."
Bella stayed in the bedroom until after their food was delivered. It was not nearly as good as the dinner they shared with her parents in Seattle, but she was excited to get to their training, so she finished her food almost as quickly as her partner.
They cleared the heavy furniture aside to make an open space in the middle of the room. Bella removed her bracelets, earrings and rings, but Masen made no move to take off her collar so she left it alone. They warmed up with basic calisthenics. Bella couldn't believe it, but her body was hungry for exercise. Even running sounded like a good idea at the moment.
Her skin felt warm and she was breathing a little hard when they took their places across from each other. Masen's arms hung loosely at his sides as he stood about two paces away.
"Up until now we've focused on a single kind of fighting: self defense against a lethal threat."
"Okay. What are we doing now?"
"We're going to explore other types of fights. If somebody attacks you with the intent to kill you, you're fighting for survival and that governs the risks and rewards associated with the fight. You might be willing to take a hit to gain an opening. A minor wound in exchange for a kill shot. By the same reasoning, your attacker's motives govern his actions. A kidnapper seeks to incapacitate, not kill. An unconscious body is easier to transport than a kicking, screaming victim."
"Like last night in the woods."
"Yes. Marie might have feared for her life, but he never intended to kill her, only recapture her."
"How do I tell the difference?"
"You can't always. In most cases it's situational. Chances are, if an attacker finds and confronts you without a weapon in his hand, he isn't trying to kill you. Not yet at least. If he has a weapon but speaks before using it, he has another objective. He could have dispatched you with a lot less fuss if he didn't warn you first, right? On the other hand, if you confront him, he just might use lethal force. In that scenario, you are the threat."
"So, no weapon or conversation means I'm fighting to stay free and conscious. A surprise attack with a weapon means I'm fighting for my life."
"You got it. Now, how will that affect my approach? And how will you counter it?" Without warning, he lunged at her with both hands outstretched.
There was no blade to dodge, no gun to grab, so she hesitated. At the last second she reacted on instinct, her own hands rising up to ward off the attack. Masen's hands closed around her wrists and he pulled her into a strangle hold. One of his arms closed around her upper body, pinning her arms to her sides, while his other hand closed around her throat with bruising force. She couldn't scream. She could barely move. Within seconds her eyes were bulging and her face and scalp were burning with trapped blood.
He released her just as her vision began to blur. "What did you do wrong?"
Bella was furious with herself. She leaned over with her hands on her knees and waited for the rage to dissipate before answering. "You tried to grab me, and I offered you the easiest target. My wrists. Damn."
He nodded. "What should you have done?"
"Made myself harder to grab. Forced you to shift your direction to break your momentum. Counter-attacked."
"Show me," he said with a taunting smile. He took two steps back, bounced on his toes a few times, then charged.
This time, Bella took a swift sidestep, pulled her arms close in to her sides, then ploughed into his arms at a slight angle. She heard and felt his knuckles popping as his hands crashed into her chest and shoulder.
He was too tall for her to head butt him. He was too strong for her to catch and hold him. Instead, she grabbed onto his forearms for support and swung her right foot hard at his left ankle. Kicking him was like kicking a brick wall. It hurt. But it also kept him off balance and slowed him down.
His right hand reached for her throat, so she continued to twist to the left. She swung her right foot back, spinning herself a full 360 degrees. She drove up and around with her right elbow, aiming straight for his temple. He ducked and wrapped his arms around her from behind, lifting her up off her feet. Now her head was at his level. She flung her head back, heard it crack against his jaw and saw stars. With his superior weight, he wrestled her to the ground where they lay panting.
"That was the same goddamn spot you hit me with the frying pan," he accused.
"The spot you made me hit you with the frying pan," she reminded him.
"Ow."
Bella started laughing. "Imagine how my skull feels."
His fingers probed her scalp and found the knot forming. "Yeah. Okay. We're even."
"Let me up. I lost. You caught me."
"I caught you because I'm that good."
"Easy on the self congratulatory speech," she scowled as she climbed to her feet.
"That was a compliment."
"What planet are you from? That was not a compliment."
He grinned up at her from where he lay on the floor. "If you think about it, you'll see that it was."
"Again," she demanded, shaking out the soreness from her shoulder and elbow.
He got up, circled around behind her and attacked. This time he subdued her in under two seconds.
"Again," she muttered, putting a few more feet between them.
Two minutes later. . . "Again."
And "Again."
When they finally moved from physical fighting to theory and strategy, her body was battered. But so was his. And he was right. . . it was fun.
A/N: I need a couple volunteers to teach Agent Masen some humility. Any takers?