Shades of Silence by Alara
Chapter Three
The next morning, as she was making the coffee, Scarlett was startled to hear a knock at the back door. She moved to go answer it, wondering who on earth would be knocking at the door at this hour… To her surprise, a neighbor she'd gone to high school with stood outside. Liz's eyes lit up when she saw Scarlett.
*Shana! I heard you snuck in. Were you even going to tell anyone you were around?* Her hands flew, almost blurring, before she flung herself at the redhead and hugged her tightly.
Liz was profoundly deaf; as a result, most of Scarlett's high school class had learned at least some sign—and her brothers had learned some, too, since Liz's parents were their neighbors.
*Hello! What are you doing home? I got ordered to take some time off, so…* Shana shrugged. *Here I am.*
*Leave it to you, Shana O'Hara, to be ordered to take time off!* Liz was laughing. *How's the Army treating you? I'm also glad to see you've kept up on your ASL.*
They made their way over to the table, where Liz sat while Shana poured coffee for both of them before joining her.
*Little do you know—it's now mandatory for my entire unit to know it.* Shana allowed a smug smile to cross her face.
*Really? I thought if you were deaf, you couldn't do a lot of things for the Army.* Her friend didn't seem perturbed, just curious. *Is there a deaf soldier you work with?*
*Well, remember, I'm in the chaplains' corps,* Shana temporized, mentally crossing her fingers. *But no—what happened was that one guy was… injured quite badly, and lost his voice. Permanently.*
*Oh, no! And he didn't retire, or discharge, or whatever you call it?*
*He has some pretty unique skills. He'd be hard to replace. And he didn't want to leave, anyway.*
*So how did that end with the whole group having to learn ASL?*
*Well, he's a good close friend of mine—probably the closest I have in—the group,* she had to catch herself before she spelled out JOE. *And after the accident, he was determined to do things on his own, as though literally nothing had happened.*
Liz snorted.
*Right. Well, he got into trouble when he needed to talk, and couldn't. He'd been making do with scribbling notes, but they aren't much good in the rain, or dust, or snow.*
*Or the dark,* Liz added.
*So I badgered him into learning ASL. He really didn't want to at first—I think he felt it made him weird or something. Then I showed him that I already knew ASL, and could help teach him. Eventually he caved.*
*And the unit?*
*The commanders realized that he and I could communicate really efficiently and subtly if we needed to, or communicate in the dark and silently by finger spelling into each other's hands. Plus, they didn't want him to feel singled out. So they made it a part of the training to get into the group.*
*Chaplains have to communicate silently in the dark?* Liz looked a little skeptical.
Scarlett thought quickly. *Hey, just because we don't go jumping out of airplanes or driving tanks everywhere, doesn't mean we aren't in dangerous situations sometimes. We go where the troops go, after all,* Shana pointed out.
Liz looked thoughtful. *I hadn't thought of that.*
*And it would be disastrous if we gave away someone's position by just talking too loudly.*
*Right.* She smiled impishly. *So… what's this really-good-friend's name?*
Shana groaned at the predictable question, but fortunately was saved by her father's wheeling himself into the room. He grinned at Liz; he'd always liked her. "*I thought I didn't hear anyone down here,*" he said and signed teasingly.
Liz giggled and shot back, *Hey, Mr. O'Hara, I didn't hear you walk in—oops.* She covered her mouth with both hands, eyes widened comically, as she appeared to just then notice his wheelchair.
He laughed at her rejoinder, collected his own coffee, and placed himself at the table. "*So, what are we talking about?*"
"*Nothing,*" Shana got in, right before Liz's *The man Shana's interested in.*
Shana dropped her head into her hands as her father crooned, "Ohh, a man, is there? And how is it we're just now hearing about him?"
Well, for starters, just telling you his name would open a box of worms, I can't tell you what he does for a living, and he refuses to come home to meet you, so… She lifted her head and glared at Liz. *Some friend you are.*
She laughed unrepentantly.
Frank came in then, and eyed them uncertainly. "*Everything all right? Hello, Liz.*"
"*Everything's fine. Shana's got a man, we think."
Frank, bless him, merely raised an eyebrow, said, "Huh," and went back to getting his coffee.
Sean and Brian came in then and hugged Liz hello, who immediately asked them, *Have you met Shana's boyfriend?*
Brian sniffed and said, "*A boyfriend? Sheesh, well, it's about time."
Sean went into full older-brother-defensive mode. "A boyfriend? And you're just telling us? When do we get to meet him? You don't go anywhere alone with him, do you?" He forgot to sign, but Liz was able to follow along: she pointed at Shana and laughed at her.
Shana shot her the bird swiftly and reminded her family, "*I'm an adult now, you know. I can have a boyfriend if I want. And I'm a martial arts trainer for the Army, what kind of question is 'do I go anywhere alone with him'?*"
Frank looked a bit more interested. "*So there is a guy?*"
She waved her hands. "No no no… I meant if I wanted a boyfriend, I could have one—even if Sean here hasn't met him."
"Ah…" Brian nodded wisely, sipped his coffee, and asked, "*So… is this not-your-boyfriend guy the tea guy?*"
"*Look at her blush! It must be,*" Frank laughed, tossed back the rest of his cup, and waved to his brothers. "C'mon guys, we'll have all week to tease Shana; we've got a class coming in a while."
"Tch. Slavedriver," Sean muttered, but got up. "Shana, you're looking better-rested today; could we interest you in helping with some of the classes?"
"Sure. Let me know when."
Liz was looking confused. *What's this about tea?*
Patrick chuckled, and explained the comment. Understanding dawned across Liz's face. *So, you helped him with ASL, he shares his oh-so-special tea with you… Are you sure there's nothing going on?*
*No!*
*Do you want there to be? I get the feeling there's something you haven't told me,* Liz said, then stood and drained the rest of her coffee. *But it'll have to wait. Thanks for the coffee, O'Haras. Mostly I wanted to see if the rumor that Shana was visiting was true. I'll be back to collect her for some shopping or something one of these days—gotta run!*
She waved goodbye and disappeared out the door. Shana cleared away the abandoned cups, refilled her own, offered her father some, and sat back down.
"So," her father said quietly. "I also get the feeling there's more than you've said about this young man. Out with it. It can't be just that you like him."
"And who says I do?" She shifted uncomfortably. One good thing about working with mostly guys: you didn't end up with heart-to-hearts too often.
Her father smiled. "Your face does, every time you speak of him. So: out with it. What is it about him that's so odd you don't want to mention him to your father or brothers?"
"Eh…"
"Whatever it is, I'm sure I can handle it."
Oh, yeah, like the word 'ninja' is just thrown about every day. He won't let this go, will he? "Well, it's not that he's odd," she temporized, "It's that he's very… private. For good reasons. And I've tried to talk him into coming with me to visit, but… well, the best I've ever got out of him is a 'someday, maybe,' and that was only a few days ago!"
"Hooo…" He stroked his chin, leaning back. "So you were thinking of bringing him home to meet us, eh? What is this fellow's name, anyway? Surely his sense of privacy doesn't extend to something as simple as a name."
She laughed wryly. "Da, nothing about Snake Eyes is simple."
"Nothing ab—'Snake Eyes'?" Patrick asked incredulously. "That's his name?"
"He had some very… specialized martial arts training in Asia, and the masters there gave him that name. It's all he goes by, now."
"Huh. Does he. Well, you know we're not so shallow as to judge a man by his name; there has to be more. What else?"
"Um. He's mute; lost his voice in an… accident… some years ago," she said carefully, stepping only on the most exact portions of the truth.
"Sweetheart, I'm disabled, and in a wheelchair. Not one to throw stones at another's disability."
"But it's not a disability!" Shana quickly flashed back. "I swear, when he lost his voice, he ramped up all his other abilities like you wouldn't believe! He's brave, and kind, and loyal, and justifiably proud of all the things he does."
Patrick held up both hands, as though to ward off an attack. "Whoa, whoa. You really do like this… Snake Eyes, don't you?" He chuckled. "Sounds like you've had to give that 'he's not disabled' speech a few times."
"Yeah, well, sometimes new people at work want to dismiss him because of it, or have him dismissed because they think he can't do his job as well, when really he does his job better than anyone else can."
"And that's another thing. Shana. Your job…" She froze. "I'm not a stupid man. I know your job consists of more than training chaplains' bodyguards in jiujitsu and muy thai."
"What makes you think that?" She asked quietly. What did I say that made me blow my cover?
"I know you, darling girl." He covered one of her hands with his own, and continued. "And I've known soldiers. You don't get that tense wariness you come home with unless you've been on high-tension, high-stakes missions. You don't wake up with night terrors if your days are spent reading up on—on Yemeni tribesmen's prayers, or whatever. If you were really sitting in a desk somewhere—and a damn waste of a good fighter that would be—it wouldn't take me fourteen damn telephone reroutes to call you and say hello. Plus, that watchdog leader of yours just oozes combat Army, even over the phone. So I've got to assume this 'chaplains' assistants' thing is a load of bull, and you're really involved in some covert operation of some sort."
"Oh." She blinked at him. He had put it together rather neatly. She gave in, figuring she'd tell Duke it was his fault for sounding too Joe over the phone. "Well, crap. D' you think anyone else has put it together?"
"Oh, I think Frank suspects, but you know him—he'll never say anything. Sean wouldn't put all the bits together, and Brian… well, Brian will believe just about anything you tell him, even if it doesn't make sense. And even if they put it together, none of them would say anything, you know that."
"Right." Suddenly she laughed. "This works for me—I swore not to tell anyone about my real job; there wasn't anything in there about confirming good guesses!"
Patrick laughed as well. "Clever girl. And if that Duke fellow gives you hell when you get back, well… You give him hell back, and then have him call me for my turn!" A sly look crossed his face. "Now, don't think I've forgotten about your young man…"
She slumped. "Right. Well, he's not really mine. I don't think."
"Another woman?"
"No, nothing like that, but… any time I try to steer things in a, um, non-friend manner…"
"You can say the word 'romantic,' you know."
She winced. "You're my father. I am not talking about 'romantic' around you if I can help it." He laughed. "Anyway, any time I try to go there, he just sort of… shuts down, walks away. But then on the other hand, any time I need him, any time I'm feeling down, or need help or sometimes just when I look at him…" Her voice trailed off, then continued more softly. "…he's there. And he has this look on his face like I'm all that matters, like I'm the world… Like you used to get when you looked at Mom."
Patrick blinked, and let his air out with a whoosh. "You are smitten, aren't you? Don't worry, from what you've told me, you've knocked him head over heels if I'm any judge. Better than those boys in high school, even." She groaned at the memory. "It just sounds to me like he's shy. Is he a shy person?"
That thought had never occurred to her before: who would associate one of the world's deadliest ninja with shyness? It was like trying to imagine a renowned home decorator declaring he was fond of puce and orange. Ninja just sort of… stood out. Well, when they wanted to. "The same reasons he has for being very private," she said, thinking of his scars, "are the same ones that might cause him to be shy." She realized that even when they were alone, he rarely took off his face mask, and even then, he turned lights low and stuck to shadows. Did he think his scars—scars he'd received on her behalf—were repellent? Specifically, repellent to her?
Wow. She was learning a whole lot this trip home. "Dad, you're smarter than I gave you credit for. And you've never even met Snakes!"
"I aim to please," he said smugly. "Now, question is," he said, changing the subject, "am I smart enough to convince you to make breakfast for me?"
Laughing, she agreed, and moved into the kitchen, pondering these new insights.
-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-
The day went smoothly; she was able to draw oohs of admiration—and glares, mocking and not, from her brothers for their bruises—as she demonstrated throws and holds for some of the advanced classes. There was a bad moment when Sean accidentally kicked her in the side with the broken ribs. The pain and overwhelming, instantaneous memory threw her briefly into defense mode, but fortunately she snapped herself out of it before she'd taken more than one destructive step toward him.
"Oh, geez, Shana, sorry! That's the side you're hurt on, isn't it? No wonder you looked like you were seriously about to kick my ass." Sean apologized. She waved him off, but begged off physical demonstrations the rest of the day, instead sitting against the wall and offering constructive criticism to the class on form and follow-through.
The night was worse, though; as soon as her head hit the pillow, memories washed over her, and she could only huddle in her bed, hugging a pillow tightly, waiting for the shakes and tears to stop.
-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-
She hadn't thought that escaping would offer even more harrowing experiences than her capture, but then again, she hadn't realized Snakes had put himself into danger for her sake—again—until after she'd commandeered the C.L.A.W. personal flying device and was ready to blow out of there.
She saw her old ninja friend facing off against her new 'friend', the ninja who'd brought her here. She was glad to see she hadn't caused any permanent damage—he seemed a decent enough fellow, for a Cobra lackey anyway—but she certainly wasn't going to let him skewer Snake Eyes.
With about half a second to determine a course of action, she maneuvered the C.L.A.W. so that she dropped in between the other ninja's flung sword and Snake Eyes; she hoped it didn't hit anything too vital.
To her surprise—and delight—Snake Eyes actually managed to catch the sword between his palms, casually flinging it away behind him off the castle wall. Within about half a second, he was clinging tightly to her, and she reversed the thrust on the flying contraption to lift them up—and out of harm's way, as Cobra operatives gathered on the roof.
It took them a while to rendezvous with Wild Bill, who, it appeared, had hung around the area waiting for Snake Eyes' signal. Scarlett was grateful; flying all the way back to a safe zone with Snake clinging to her back would have been painful. He couldn't help hitting her ribs, face—well, really any part of her hurt just then, except perhaps her toes. And even those she wasn't sure about.
When they were safely ensconced in the belly of the transport plane, she could feel Snakes looking at her, even through his visor. He lifted his hand toward, but thankfully did not touch, her disfigured face; picked up one of her swollen, cut hands and examined it; looked at the pain-filled way she was moving. *Your ribs?*
She nodded. "Broken, I think."
*Would you like me to wrap them? It would make them hurt a good deal less.*
Usually, she would have waited til they got back, or had a fellow female Joe handle it, but there was no one else there, and anyway… this was Snakes. She trusted him with her life; why not with some skin? If Clutch had been there, or Flint, say, she never would have taken him up on the offer but… her ribs hurt. "Yes, I'd like that."
He moved off to get the medical kit, came back and slapped at her hands as she tried to get her jacket off without bending anything that hurt. He peeled off the garment and considered the cut, stained undershirt. *I'll put the bindings over the shirt,* he signed. *It's not ideal, but Lifeline or Doc will want to re-bind your ribs themselves when we get back, anyway.*
"And we won't have to deal with gossip about how you had me helpless and half-naked back here." She replied dryly, quaking with relief inside that he wouldn't be taking off her shirt. It was Snakes, and she trusted and—yes—loved him, but… it was far, far too soon after those guards…
*There is that,* he agreed, and it took her a distracted second to realize he was referring to avoiding gossip. Because surely he couldn't know… what those guards had done.
He did fold the undershirt up to get a look at where the damaged ribs were lying, though, and she had to fight to keep her breathing steady at the feel of cold air on her skin. iHiHis deft hands tapped over her skin's surgaveHis deft hands tapped their way across the curve of her ribs, gently testing for weak or broken places. They moved down to the floating ribs. He caught sight of an oddly-shaped bruise—sort of an upside down U-shape, with longer bruises radiating out from the curved part—coming up over the back of her hip. The injuries to her belly and ribs were the unmistakable, half-moon shape that a boot to the ribs left, but this one didn't look nearly the same.
He edged the waist of her pants down about half an inch to look at it, tilting his head one way, then the other, as he tried to fit the shape to any of the interrogation devices Cobra was so fond of. None matched. Gently, he traced the outline, and Scarlett shivered. Thinking the shiver was from cold, he signed one-handed, *Sorry,* and laid his hand flat against the place to warm the chilled skin.
He had to catch Scarlett when her knees suddenly went out; she was shaking, not from cold as he'd supposed, but rather from adrenaline-shock, he thought. He pulled her close to him, thinking to help still her shakiness, and was a bit surprised when she flung her arms around him and clung tightly until the shaking stopped.
He had to remind his racing pulse that now is not the time. They'd been very casually dating for a while, and due entirely to his own reluctance to see Scarlett's reaction to him, had been very… non-physical on those dates. Her body pressed up against his reminded him of how very long it had been since a woman had been close to him in any sense.
The shakes stopped. "S-s-sorry," she stuttered, suddenly realizing she was plastered against him.
*It's all right.*
"No, sorry, I know you don't like being touched, I—"
*Shana. It is all right. This is a natural relief reaction; all the adrenaline you didn't use is being released. It helps to have someone near.*
"But—"
*And I don't mind being that someone near, for you,* he offered. She slumped a little in relief.
"Thanks. I think an—attack—like that would be a little scary without anyone around."
*Yes,* he agreed, and she realized that he must have had attacks like these when recovering from the terrible accident that had taken his voice. Her suspicion was confirmed when he continued, *You will likely have more attacks. Let me wrap your ribs now so you don't do further damage to them.*
Expertly and efficiently he wrapped her ribs, pinning the undershirt beneath the wrap, frowning again at the blood and cuts in the fabric. Something about them was bothering him. Aside from the very fact of their existence.
The rest of the trip was spent with Scarlett curled up against his side. Neither spoke; she seemed content to stare into the middle distance (except when more attacks struck), and he was busy watching her carefully.
He didn't like what he saw; he was going to have to have a chat with Doc, and maybe Psyche-Out, when they got back, he thought. Scarlett was all too likely to downplay her injuries (like the rest of the Joes did; that trait seemed to be a requirement) and he wanted to be sure she was entirely all right before she went out on any other missions. It was all about the missions.
Maybe if he kept telling himself that, he'd believe that was really his concern, and not the pain in her eyes she was trying so very hard to hide.
-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-
When they got back to base, he insisted on taking her straight to the infirmary, finally threatening to knock her out and carry her if she didn't go under her own power. He was disturbed by how pale she went at that threat: sure, it wasn't an idle threat, but that reaction was a little… strong. The Shana he knew should either very reluctantly agree, or fight tooth and nail to give a report first.
When they entered, relief flashed across Lifeline's face, though he looked worried when he saw how tired Scarlett looked. "You're both back! Great. Scarlett, you know the drill, behind the curtain so I can get a look at you. You, ninja, don't get to look. Go do something useful."
Snake Eyes folded his arms and leaned solidly against the wall, telegraphing his intent to stay, no matter what.
Scarlett's exhausted face popped around the curtain. "Snakes, bring Duke down here, will you? I've got a feeling Lifeline here will keep me a while, even if I don't need it, and I'd like to get my report over with."
He eyed her a moment, sensing an ulterior motive. He couldn't figure out what it could possibly be, though, and besides, how much trouble could she get to in the infirmary? He quashed the thought before Murphy's Law could kick in, nodded, and left.
Scarlett sighed a little as he left, and emerged wearing an examination gown. She glanced around quickly, her face tense. "Lifeline… are we alone here?"
The medic looked around. "Where did that orderly go? Let me get her—I'm really not supposed to do an examination of a female team member without—" He broke off as she gripped his arm, hard.
Her eyes were intent. "Doctor-patient confidentiality applies here, right? No matter what?"
"Yes, yes of course, Scarlett—what is it?" He asked, concerned by the worry in her voice.
"I—I…" she swallowed, and rushed out, "You need to know. So you can do… tests. S-some," she stuttered, breathed, closed her eyes and stated firmly, "Some of the guards… assaulted me."
"I—" Whatever he'd been expecting her to say, this wasn't it. He shook his head. Those words, coming from her, made no sense. "I'm sorry, I shouldn't have had you dis… I…" Training, however, kicked in. "When you say 'assaulted'…."
"No intercourse, but…" She swallowed, and looked away, speaking very quietly. "Just about everything else."
"Damn. Scarlett," he said, and took her hand. "I am so, so sorry to hear that that happened to you. Can I get someone—" She shook her head. He took the hint. "You're right, though, it requires some tests. Where is that orderly? Now I really need her here…"
"No! You can't tell her—then Sn—everyone will know!"
"Scarlett, calm down. It's SOP for any Joe who's been a captive out of sight for more than two hours. No one will read anything in to any exams," he soothed. "But, obviously, regs state I can't so much as look at you without another female present. And I can do the exams myself—the orderly only needs to be here. She won't be able to figure anything out."
She blinked at tears of relief welling up in her eyes, sniffed them back. "Are you sure?"
"Yes." He paused, and then, as delicately as he could asked, "Would you mind meeting with Psyche-Out? You're a strong woman, but this is not something you can—or should—handle on your own."
She winced. "It's not concern for me or my… reputation, or whatever, really. I mean, we're given training for this sort of situation, women especially, and believe me, I know it's not my fault. And I know there's a hell of a lot of emotional fallout coming my way. What I'm worried about is Snake Eyes."
He shook his head at this apparent non-sequitur. "What?"
"You know we're…close."
"In flagrant violation of the fraternization regulations, but if the higher-ups don't care, and it doesn't jeopardize your or his health, I don't care. Actually I think you're good for one another. So, yes, the news that you and Snake Eyes are 'close' is not a shock."
"Well, if he finds out about this too soon… if I'm not the one to tell him…" She shook her head and tried again. "If he finds out here, where he has access to that C.L.A.W. I captured, or a dozen other modes of transport, and all the weapons he could want… if he finds out in the wrong way, or while he's here, he will go back and kill every person there. And there's at least one person who doesn't deserve that."
At his raised eyebrow, she elaborated, "That person stopped the guards, and took me away from them." She sighed, and said, "It's why I asked for Duke; I hope I can convince him to let me and Snakes go on leave at the same time, so we can go to his cabin. It'll give me a chance to… process… and also give me a good time and place to tell him what happened."
"I see." He looked at her thoughtfully for a moment. "May I fill Doc in on this? He is your primary, and I can absolutely promise it will not go beyond him until you decide it does. Not even to Duke or Hawk."
She considered. "If he had been here instead of you, I'd have told him, so yeah. Okay. But no one else."
"Promise." The orderly finally came in, cup of coffee in her hand. She looked startled to see a patient there.
"Jacobs, where have you been? This soldier's been waiting so we can process her back in from the field."
"Sorry, sir! I didn't realize anyone was due in." She cast a confused glance at the utterly blank roster.
Scarlett took pity on her. "You're new, aren't you?" The girl nodded. "In Joe, there are rarely regularly scheduled deployments or returns. Just make sure your higher-ups know where you are, huh?" She nodded again.
Lifeline took over the conversation, going into training mode. "Now, Jacobs, this soldier was captured. List the standard examinations to be performed." He cast a significant glance at Scarlett.
"Was the soldier out of sight?"
"Yes."
"For more than…" her forehead scrunched as she tried to remember "…two? Hours?"
"Right. And, yes, more than two hours."
"Uh, then we need to do general stats, full X-rays, CT, reflexes, full blood work, urine and stool sample, and a PERK." She glanced at Shana. "Sorry, sir. It's standard. Males and females who've been captured."
"And a what?"
"A physical evidence recovery kit—an examination for sexual assault," Lifeline replied smoothly, as though they hadn't just been discussing it. "And it doesn't matter if you say they didn't do anything, we are not allowed to take a former captive's word for it."
"Why not?"
He shrugged. "Brainwashing, drugs, just plain embarrassment or shame… For that part of the exam, would you prefer I do it, or Jacobs here?"
She glanced at the orderly, who had a rather deer-in-the-headlights look. "No offense, kid, but I know Lifeline a lot better than I do you."
The girl relaxed. "As long as you don't mind me observing. It's—"
"—Regulations, I know." Shana sighed, then eyed the camera the orderly was getting out. "Let me guess. More regulations?"
The girl grimaced and nodded. "We have to document bruising, dislocations, that sort of thing."
"Fine," Shana sighed, and stood, arms outstretched. "Fire away."
Lifeline was thorough, but as quick as he could be. Even so, it took more than an hour. There was an extra delay when Snake Eyes returned with Duke, who asked her questions from one side of a curtain while Lifeline continued his exam on the other. Snake Eyes paced silently on Duke's side of the curtain.
Finally, it was finished. Lifeline sent Snake Eyes to get Shana some other clothes (hers had to be taken for examination), and sent the orderly for more coffee; Duke had left a while before. The medic looked at her soberly. "Your tests will be encoded, so only Doc and I will know which coded items are yours. I'll get your results to you as quickly as possible, all right?"
"Thanks." A real smile, albeit a brief one, flashed across her face. "For everything."
"Right. Now, you come on back for anything, all right? Even just to talk, or vent, or cry. And please, at some point, meet with Psyche-Out, all right?"
"Right."
"Now, go calm down that ninja of yours before he puts someone's eye out from sheer nerves."
She laughed, shakily, but she laughed. "I'll do my best."
"Don't we all."
-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-