2 months ago

Jill was comfortably laying in her captain's arms, her head leaned on his chest, himself laying on his own bed. Once again, she had come of her own volition to his place, reclaiming his company. He was starting to believe she was addicted to him as much as he was to her.

"So… Where did you grow up?" she suddenly asked, out of the blue.

"You know, Jill, we are not forced to talk," he answered with his usual cold tone, the one so familiar to him.

She raised her head and looked into his eyes, giving him a frustrated smile.

"Come on…" she insisted.

He sighed, not wishing to be brought into that type of conversation. He had to be very careful, if he let out too much information, there was a possibility she might discover the unpleasant truth; his double identity. He figured his "version" could be a mix of both truth and pure invention.

"I grew up in a small town in Michigan," he finally answered, his voice a mix of annoyance and coldness. He had decided on sharing that piece of information with her.

"Really?" she asked, almost amused.

"Yes."

"Hmm, for some reason I always thought you came from New England," she answered grinning.

"And how did you come to work for the S.T.A.R.S.?" she asked.

"I guess I felt it was my place, after several years in the Marines," he lied.

"How long did you stay there?"

"Almost 20 years," he lied again.

"Wow, why didn't you stay?"

"I don't know. I needed a change, I guess," he answered, emotionless.

She smiled, looking as if she had ingested all his bullshit. It always amazed him how easily he could lie, as well as how easily anyone ever ate his lies. Over the years, it had become a habit to lie, it was as easy as breathing now… He figured he must be terrific at it, as no one had ever suspected him.

"Why did you join the Marines in the first place?"

"My father was one as well." Another lie.

"Oh."

She stayed silent for a moment, satisfied enough with his answers. Or not. Unfortunately, he left no space for further explanations, a trademark of his.

"What about your past relationships?" she finally asked, hiding a smirk.

"What about them?" he returned the question, chuckling.

"Well, have you had many women in your life?"

He did not provide her with any answer for a long moment. He considered the idea to lie to her ; he wondered if she would suspect anything unusual about him if she knew he never really got romantically involved with anyone else. Then he balanced towards telling her the truth, he figured she might be touched by the fact she was the only one to ever reach him. Didn't women all love that romantic crap? If he ever wanted her to return the feelings he had for her, he needed her to feel more than just a physical thing, now did he? He needed to bring substance for these feelings to arise. He smiled mentally, amused by the situation, amused by his skills to manipulate.

"I had many women in my bed, yes."

"What is that supposed to mean?" she asked, frowning.

"It means I've had sex with several women," he answered playfully.

She punched his chest lightly, in jest.

"That's not what I mean," she giggled. "I mean, did you have many romantic relationships? Real relationships. Implying you dated someone, fell in love, spent more than one or a few nights with the person."

"No," he answered seriously.

She looked at him, frowning, complete surprise in her expression.

"You never fell in love?"

"No," he answered, serious and emotionless.

She let out a gasp in disbelief, her brow wrinkling further.

"So, you never shared anything more than sex with any woman before me?"

"Exactly."

"Wow," she finally mumbled, dumbfounded.

She looked down and tilted her head, trying to hide her expression from his view. Her cheeks quickly turned red, highly flattered by the sudden news. She finally looked back up at him, desperately hoping he could not see the complete change in her features.

"Does this mean…" she sighed, stopping herself. She closed her eyes, pushing the words out of her mouth. "Does this make me special?" she asked, opening her eyes after painfully getting the words out.

He chuckled and his hand raised. Lightly, it brushed her cheek, caressed it the way only he knew making her melt.

"I guess," he answered, his expression suddenly regaining it's seriousness.

She lowered her head, hiding once again her expression from him. Her heartbeat accelerated, and she felt the butterflies in her stomach. She knew perfectly what it meant… It was there, deep down, desperately trying to get out. She loved him, she had completely fell for him and she was sure of it now.

She wanted to express it to him, but something stopped her. Her mouth opened, but she froze, incapable of sharing her new found feelings with the man she loved. It did need to get out, but she was too terrified to let it happen. She was too scared of the consequences. If he knew, there would be no turning back, if he knew, she would sink permanently into that dangerous zone. There was something in the man that held her at this moment that reminded her entirely her harmful previous experience. "He must not know," she decided on that very night.