A/N See? This is what happens, I get work. Sorry for taking so long. Let you into a secret, I try not to read other stuff while I'm writing, I get all critical of my own stuff, there's lots of really good work on the site, and...Well; saw updates for Halfway Valentine, damn. Wish I could write like that, and Coming Back to You got updated, that's really good. So it took a while to get back into the flow of it. Hope you like it, you knew the ending was coming, right?
Cook throws the overstuffed rucksack onto the bunk. It almost gives way under the weight of it. He begins to unpack. Half way through, he sits heavily on the bunk, elbows on knees he sits head in hands, rubs his hands through freshened buzz cut. He reaches for his cigarettes, and sparks one up. He waits for Naomi's weight on his side; instead the doorway darkens as the familiar bulk of Jameson comes through the door. "Those things will kill you, man."
Cook says nothing raises a middle finger.
"Told you you'd be back. You can't go back to the world, dude, didn't you realise that? "
"Sound advice, Mr Jameson, I'll listen to you next time" Cook nods.
"Things not go to well?" Jameson is at least trying to sound concerned.
"Some things, not so good, as expected really, some things, went OK, re-connected, you know? Found out who the real friends are." Cook nods, "Yep, that was good"
Their musings are cut short as the JTAC comes into the small space.
"Ah, Mr, Cook, So glad you could join us once again, you're well, I take it." His pale blue eyes pierce Cook's, looking for weakness.
"Yes Sir raring to go." Cook forces the positive mood.
"Splendid, Mr Cook, we'll find a mission for you. Acceptable?" He nods towards Jameson, "keep him out of trouble Mr Jameson, I'm counting on you."
"Sir" Jameson nods towards the Colonel.
OooooO
Emily watches smirking from the bed as Naomi fiddles around in her small bag; she can hear the muttered curses.
"Fuck sakes," Naomi stands, re-arranges the small bath towel that's doing nothing to cover her, "I've forgotten to pack clean knickers, Can I..? She gestures towards Emily's small chest of drawers.
"Help yourself" Emily is still smiling, as Naomi begins to rummage around, Emily continues, "You should, y'know, maybe keep some stuff here, you could have some drawer space." She smiles wider as Naomi looks around, a shocked look on her face.
"Some drawer space, really? You could spare that? For me?" She starts around the edge of the bed, Emily's seen that look before, knows she's going to be tickled for her trouble. Starts to head for the other end of her bed. "Yeah, I could, y'know? Spare a bit of space. Not much though"
Naomi looks shocked, as Emily continues, "I mean, I don't want your crap all over my room"
"My crap..?" Naomi is smiling, "You're dead Fitch"
"Oh shit" Emily makes a run for it, is caught easily, and is dumped shrieking back onto the bed, Naomi gets to work on the tickling. Emily is breathless as she waves her hands in submission, "OK, I'm sorry about calling your stuff crap."
"I should think so, I have high class designer..." It goes unfinished as Emily darts underneath her
"...Crap" She runs for the Kitchen.
Naomi stands dressed, ready for work, in a corner speed spooning cornflakes. Emily still in PJs watches the toaster, she yawns and stretches. Naomi looks at her watch "I have to go." She says through a mouthful.
Emily nods, "Attractive."
Naomi comes to her side of the kitchen puts her arms around Emily's waist from behind, "You know we could solve all this?" she gestures to her bag in the corner, "All this living out of bags"
Emily stiffens a little "We talked about this Noams, not yet, OK? I'm not ready to just move back in, OK?"
Naomi rests her head on Emily's shoulder, "OK, but come round tonight, yeah? I'll make supper."
Emily nods "D'you you want me to bring anything?"
She means food, which Naomi understands, but chooses to pretend she doesn't, smiles "Bring some clean knickers; I'll make some space in a drawer."
Emily nods simply, gets the meaning "OK" she manages finally, breathlessly.
Naomi kisses her neck, "See you later" walks away. Emily gets back to watching the toaster, its spring doesn't work, and she's trying not to burn it. She's caught by surprise as Naomi's arm snake back around her waist, Naomi growls, spins her around, plants a kiss on Emily's lips, "Arggghhhh, I have to go"
Emily laughs, "Go, for fucks sake, go, you'll be late. " Naomi runs from the kitchen again, shouts over her shoulder "Later, ok?"
Emily laughs, suddenly sniffs the air, spins around "Oh, shit..."
OooooO
Cook and Jameson are running. Cook is beginning to think that he'd not have signed up so readily if he'd have known it was going to be like this, all this running it's bad for the heart. Even now he can't help make bad jokes. He checks behind him and see Jameson 50m behind and slightly to the right. Maintaining separation even as it all falls to shit around them, professional, even though they both known it doesn't matter anymore. Chris and Mark dead, He and Jameson barely escaping the ambush, they are running literally for their lives, and both of them understand the chances are slim. They round a small bend in the track; it rises slightly and then dips into some trees. It's a as good a place as any, and Cook calls for Jameson to stop running.
They're both hands on knees as Cook looks about "Here'll do"
Jameson nods, he's breathing too heavily to answer, looks about and start to move to the other side of the road as the noise of machine guns sound around them, both flatten to the ground, and crawl to the cover that the Trees afford, rounds clatter into trunks, and hammer into branches. Leaves and debris falls around them. Cook takes aim and starts firing short controlled bursts. He loads magazine after magazine, keeps firing, he has no other option. They cannot run any further, standing now would be suicide. He keeps firing. He hears Jameson shout out "Magazine" he's down to his last, 30 rounds, then pistols. Cook continues to fire, he hears Jameson swear, then single rounds as he fires his pistol. Cook empties his rifle, that's it. Draws his pistol, takes aim, and starts shooting.
Jameson looks over to where Cook is huddled in a scrape behind a low tree; there is a lull in the firing. Calls out to him. "How many rounds left?"
Cook draws out the mag from the butt of the pistol "Four"
Jameson Nods, "one."
Cook says nothing knows what he's going to use the round for.
He rolls over onto his back, fiddles around in his chest pocket for fags and the lighter; normally he wouldn't ever smoke on a mission, now it doesn't matter. Takes in a lungful, lets his thoughts drift, and her face comes clearly into his mind. He's momentarily surprised that it's her and not Effy or Soraya. Smiles though, and thinks to himself, "never going to get that shag now". Suddenly the firing starts again, Cook can tell they're much closer, spits out the fag, and risks a look, he sees faces amongst the low branches around him, fires off two rounds, and there's screaming, as he scrambles away he hears a single pistol shot, closely followed by a volley of automatic fire. He crouches behind a fat tree, sees a figure dart in and out of the saplings in front of him, and takes careful aim. Drops him as he comes into view again. Last round. He sinks down and sits heavily behind the tree. Looks at the pistol in his lap, and draws it up to his temple. Takes in a breath, thinks of Freddie. Shakes his head
"Fuck that" he thinks. He stands, unclips the two fragment grenades from his belt kit, and taking a breath pulls the pins from both of them, holding the levers firmly. Cook closes his eyes briefly and then spins and runs towards the surprised men in front of him who are standing around the body of Jameson, Cook screams loudly as he lets go of the pins and tackles the nearest man to the ground. He smells like cardamom, Cook thinks...
OooooO
Naomi wakes with a start, sits upright in bed. Emily rolls over and opens sleep smudged eyes "Hey, you OK?"
Naomi nods, "Yeah, just bad dreams, go back to sleep, I'm going to get some water"
Emily snuggles down under the duvet that Naomi pulls back over her, and Naomi pads out of the bedroom into the small kitchen, she doesn't turn on the light, instead opens the blind slightly to let the street light illuminate the space. She takes a glass, and fills it, taking small sips; she sits at the table rubbing her head. "Weird dreams" she thinks." Too much late night coffee" She finishes her water, walks carefully back to the bedroom, pauses at the doorway looks at the small woman tucked under the duvet sleeping peacefully, smiles to herself, it's going well, she thinks, thinks they may have actually cracked it this time, they seem to have grown, accepted each other for who they actually are, rather than who they pretend to be sometimes. Makes a note to tell Cook and properly thank him for pushing her to get back with Emily, without him, she thinks they may not have made it at all.
They're having breakfast when they hear the knocking on the door. They look at each other. Naomi only half smiles when she says "Emily, have you parked that fucking bike on the pavement again?"
Emily laughs, "No, it's out the back, it's nothing to do with me"
Naomi stands walks to the door, opens it to find two uniformed men standing in front of her, the older man is wearing a dog collar, the younger man speaks "Miss Campbell?"
"Yes." Her throat tightens. She feels Emily behind her.
"We understand that you're the next of kin for Captain James Cook, is that correct?"
Naomi nods mutely. Only hears partially as the older one starts to say "We're here to tell you..."
Naomi falls to the floor, "NO" it repeats in her head, a million times over, she doesn't want to hear what they say, but they carry on regardless.
"...Our sad duty to inform you that Captain Cook was killed in action yesterday..."
"No, "thinks Naomi, "Cook died a long time ago when he received the bones of his lover made into a chair, it was only really a matter of timing" She hears Emily begin to cry, reaches out to comfort her.
Fin
