Hey everybody! Thanks so much for the reviews and emails! I told you this chapter would be quick.
A more serious tone to this chapter, but at least it L/W seriousness!
Gotta' love the long weekend! I'm glad Australia is part of the monarchy, hence the Queens Birthday holiday. That probably seems a little shallow, but hey...
Rated T for adult themes and Kleenex-related fits of sobbing.
Alternate Destination
Chapter Fourteen
"This might be it," Wheeler suggested, staring up at the darkened windows above the store front. "Above a furniture shop, I think she mentioned."
"You do not know where your mother lives?" Linka asked doubtfully, wrapping Wheeler's jacket around herself and gazing at the old-fashioned building.
"Long story," he breathed, checking the brass plate located beside an iron gate, protecting the entrance to the apartments above them. "Wait, there's mail..."
Linka gasped as the American attempted to reach into the first of four narrow mail slots, in an effort to retrieve anything which may contain a clue to the identity of the slumbering inhabitants within. Finding an envelope poking out of 'Number Two', he pulled it out and scanned the address details, before placing it back inside. Only junk mail was found in Number One', and a package slip with an unpronounceable recipient's name was found in the third, since the owner had carelessly forgotten to lock the box.
"Can you try the fourth, Linka? My fingers are losing circulation," he muttered as he pried his hand away from the narrow slot. Sighing, Linka gently pushed him out of the way with her shoulder and slid her hand inside, feeling around for an envelope.
"Da, I have something," she said, pulling a letter out and noting the bold writing on the front. "Mrs Katherine Sloane," she read, glancing at Wheeler for confirmation of his mothers identity. He nodded, peering over her shoulder at the 'Congratulations, You've Won!' message splashed over the the front of the letter.
"Readers Digest," he noted with a wry smile, his chin now resting on Linka's shoulder in a companionable manner. "Some things never change."
"Is your father going to be here?" she whispered, suddenly nervous at the prospect of meeting the imposing alcoholic who had made Wheeler's life a misery. Reluctantly stepping away from the irresistible scent of her neck, Wheeler jiggled the iron gate, before searching the ground for a moment. Finding nothing to pick the lock with, he spied the small metal pins pulling back the sides of Linka's hair.
"That'll do," he announced, stepping forward and detaching the clips with a steady, gentle hand. Smiling at him shyly, she watched the American manipulate the mechanism for a moment, before a hollow click sounded. Wheeler pulled the lever up and opened the gate, a triumphant grin lighting up his face.
Leaning against the open gate, he beckoned her through. "I do not wish to know where you learnt that, Yankee," she muttered as she passed him, hearing the metal hinges squeak as the door closed behind them.
"My dad died of liver failure last year. Ma lives on her own, now," he explained, climbing the stairs two at a time. "At least, I think she does," he added as an afterthought.
Linka froze half way up as she gaped at Wheeler's retreating figure. Noticing that the Russian was no longer behind him, he stuck his head over the stairwell banister and looked down at her expectantly.
"Wheeler, I didn't know... I'm so sorry," she said in a hushed voice, leaning against the banister for support . Linka was truly bewildered at the massive changes that had eventuated since she had been gone.
"I'm not," he replied honestly, drumming his fingers against the wooden post. "Best thing he ever did for my mother, actually." Waving her onwards, he continued his ascent, with Linka close behind.
Wheeler rapt three times on the door of number four, cringing slightly as the sound echoed louder than he had expected through the cramped hallway. They waited for several minutes but received no indication that anyone was intent on answering.
"Try again?" Linka suggested and he knocked twice more, pressing his ear against the flimsy door. "Can you hear anything?"
He shook his head and knocked again, attempting to peer into the peephole.
"I have heard that will only work from the other side of the door, " she commented sarcastically, earning an offending gesture in return. Chuckling, Linka crossed her arms against her chest and leaned back against the opposite wall, as she contemplated their potential next move.
Wheeler threw his hands into the air in defeat and propped himself against the door, facing her. "What now?" he asked as the door unexpectedly swung open and he toppled inside, crashing to the floor with an almighty bang.
Startled by the fall, Wheeler barely had time to avoid the business end of a broom handle as it swung down towards his head, wielded by a a harassed-looking woman in her early fifties.
"Whoa!" he yelled, now on his feet as the broom-handle arced through the air again, the woman's pale pink dressing gown fluttering violently around her ankles. He dodged the attack and grabbed the broom handle in one hand, glaring at his attacker.
"Shit, Ma! I'd hate to see how you greet your bingo friends," he gasped, breathless from the brief struggle.
"Jacob? Oh, God, I didn't know it was you, honey," she exclaimed, dropping the broom and embracing her only child vigorously. "I'm so sorry, Jay, there have been so many strange men here asking about you, lately..."
Rubbing his head, he beckoned for Linka to come in, who was standing uncertainly at the door and regarding his mother with a combination of fear and horror.
"Yeah, well I hope they at least copped a fry-pan to the head for their efforts," he muttered, closing the door and picking the broom up off the floor.
"I'm so sorry, honey," she repeated, leading the pair into the kitchen while sneaking curious glances at the beautiful brunette clinging desperately to her son, seemingly more for protection than affection. "Sit down, you two. I'll make some coffee."
"Lin... um, she'll have tea, " Wheeler said, still trying to disengage himself from the frightened Russian. Taking a seat at the cluttered kitchen counter, he chuckled as Linka pulled up a chair beside him and continued watching his mother like a hawk, as the older woman boiled a small kettle and grabbed three mugs from the cupboard.
"She's normally a better host than this," he explained to Linka with a wink, grabbing his coffee and reaching for the sugar bowl
Mrs Sloane joined them at the counter, watching Wheeler add one sugar cube to his drink and stir it lazily. "Down to one sugar now, hon?" she observed with a kind smile, before turning in Linka's direction. "He used to load his coffee's with four to five cubes in his younger days."
"Yeah well, I'm sweet enough as it is," he remarked smartly, sipping his coffee contentedly. "Long time no see, Ma."
She regarded him with a weary smile, nodding her head in agreement. "You been looking after yourself?"
"Yep. You?"
"Of course. I bought a computer last month... used some of the money your dad left us. Bill's coming around next week to put the Internet on for me."
Wheeler frowned, trying to recall the name. "Bill... Bill the Butcher? The guy who used to give you free meat? Is he still around?"
"Mmm Hmm," she replied distractedly, watching Linka and her innocent observation of the cozy apartment. "I'm sorry, honey... my ignorant son has neglected to introduce us!" she announced, holding out her hand. "I'm Katherine."
Linka relaxed a little and smiled, returning the polite gesture. "Maria," she said warmly, opting to use her previous cruise name. "Nice to meet you."
"Is that an accent I detect?" she asked, "where are you from, honey?"
"She's European, Ma," Wheeler cut in, trying to change the subject. "You mentioned that people came looking for me?"
"Oh, yes! Quite rude, as I recall. I've noticed them outside my apartment quite a lot, lately. You haven't done anything illegal, have you? Are you two hungry? I'm sure I have something..."
"Plunder was looking for you, it would have been his men," Linka whispered in his ear as Katherine moved to find a packet of biscuits from the pantry.
"They never had a hope in hell of finding me," he responded, a devilish glint in his eye as he grabbed an Oreo from the offered plate and swallowed it whole. Linka was about to question his whereabouts when Katherine sat down again, pointing to the plate.
"Have an Oreo, hon! You're too thin," she scolded, practically shoving a chocolate cream into Linka's hand. "I don't tend to eat after 9pm, but this is a special occasion."
"Hey, what time is it, Ma?" Katherine checked her watch, replying that it was about 1:30 am.
"We need to ring the others. You got a Yellow Pages handy?" She nodded and pointed in the direction of a small phone table in the lounge room. Standing up, Wheeler smiled encouragingly at Linka and moved into the next room.
"Good luck, Jacob," Linka called out to his retreating figure, giggling as he turned and pointed menacingly at her. "I do not know him by that name," she explained to Katherine.
"Yes, well... if it weren't for his fondness for cars, the nickname would never have stuck," his mother admitted, somewhat reluctantly. "Especially cars that didn't belong to him."
"He seems to have turned out pretty well, though, under the circumstances," Linka conceded, now uncomfortably aware of Katherine's intense scrutiny of her face. She blushed deeply, her attention now focused on Wheeler's crossed legs, visible through the open door to the living room.
"Yes, well he matured a lot while he was with the Planeteers," Katherine acknowledged. "He was head over heels in love with one of the girls in the group, if I remember correctly."
"Oh?" she asked, trying to sound unaffected by the revelation. Her attempt failed miserably, as her voice sounded more like a squeak than a response.
Katherine leaned back and regarded Linka intently, her lined face showing the ravages of her life thus far. "Yep. That's the only thing I ever wanted for Jacob, a nice girl. I know what a bad partnership can do to someone... I seem to be living proof of that," she concluded, a hint of regret evident. "Jay's father was abusive, to say the least. I should have left him a long time ago, but I didn't."
Linka stared back at the woman, at a loss as to what to say. "Life can throw you some... difficult challenges," she said, gaining a nod of agreement from Katherine, who abruptly stood and sat in Wheeler's vacated seat, next to the flustered Russian.
"Difficult challenges, and the odd second chance too, it would seem." Katherine replied, a knowing smile touching the sides of her lips.
"Look," she begun, taking one of Linka's hands within her own, "I'm taking a pretty wild guess here, but I find it intriguing that my son turns up on my doorstep for the first time in two years, with a pretty woman with a Russian accent, who in turn bares a striking resemblance to one of his deceased friends. Not to mention the fact that I've had shady people spying on me for the past month, and Jay is practically bouncing of the walls with happiness."
"Da, that is a coincidence," Linka ventured, unsure of how to proceed with the conversation.
"It's not a coincidence, honey," Katherine laughed, rubbing her back in a motherly manner. "I'm guessing that you all have work to do, but you're welcome to stay here as long as you need, " she offered, glancing towards the living room where Wheeler could be heard shouting down the phone at someone.
"That will be Kwame he's yelling at," the Russian explained. "He was not very welcoming of my sudden appearance."
Laughing, Katherine stood up and stretched. "I'm not quite sure what to make of it either, sweetie!" she exclaimed, before hugging Linka's tiny frame and patting her on the head. " And I don't particularly want to know the details, either! I'll go make up the spare bedroom. Nice to finally meet you, Linka... under the circumstances, anyway."
Linka smiled and waved. It was certainly turning out to be a most interesting day.
"I nearly made him cry," Wheeler whispered gleefully as he handed the phone over to Linka. "Gi wants to talk to you."
"Da?" she asked, wincing as a loud chorus of "I'm so sorr-eeeee" assaulted her ears. " Gi...It's fine, really." Linka rolled her eyes slightly, watching as Wheeler jumped to his feet and disappeared into the kitchen.
"Hey, are you okay?" Gi asked when suitably composed and in control of her emotions. "I was so worried... I kicked Kwame for you! He's got a huge bruise on his leg, it's turning purple, actually."
"Um, spasiba... I think."
"You're welcome! Sooooo... you coming back to the hotel, now? Kwame's other leg will be waiting for you! Expect some major groveling!"
"It is nearly 2am, Gi," Linka remarked, surprised at how awake and alert she felt. "Nyet, I will just stay here for the night and we'll meet you all tomorrow."
"You're staying there? With Wheeler?" Gi repeated, seemingly surprised at her decision. Linka could almost see Gi's reaction... eyebrows cocked and a salacious grin spread across her face. "Wow, ah... okay, I guess. I suppose that I'll see you tomorrow!"
"Da, see you then."
"I want details, you hear me!"
"Grow up, Gi," Linka replied, hanging up the phone.
She remained where she was for the moment, sitting cross-legged on the floor and checking out the interior of the tiny apartment. Katherine had left a small lamp on in the corner of the living room and it's light bathed the furniture with a serene glow, although the wail of a passing ambulance detracted from the appeal somewhat.
Questions.
A boost of adrenaline surged through her body, giving her the confidence needed to stand and stride purposefully into the kitchen. She found him seated at the bench again, nursing another cup of coffee and brooding over the contents of the Reader's Digest envelope they had brought inside for Katherine.
"Right, let's go, Yankee!" she insisted, grabbing Wheeler by the arm and dragging him towards the second bedroom. "You have some explaining to do."
"Can I take my coffee?" he asked, reaching for his coffee mug, "I can barely keep my eyes open!"
"Why are you so tired?" she asked, closing the door behind them so Katherine could sleep the remainder of the morning uninterrupted. "Where have you been all these years, anyway?"
Yawning, he sunk himself onto the fold-out sofa and sat back against the pillows. " Iraq," he replied without hesitation, closing his eyes and propping his legs into a comfortable position. "Although technically, I'm now AWOL."
"AWOL?" she replied, her forehead creasing in concentration as she struggled to recognize the familiar acronym.
He opened one eye and regarded her, standing beside the sofa with her head tilted to the side, her hair falling across her right shoulder in thick, brown waves.
Breathtaking...
Pushing the distracting thoughts aside, he turned away from her and explained. "Away With Out Leave, babe. I joined the Marines."
"Boshe moy," she murmured, taking a seat beside him on the sofa. "That is why Plunder couldn't find you? Why you never saw the others after...?" His nod was all the answer she required. "Boshe moy," she repeated again, shocked that he would come to this drastic decision.
"Yeah, well I needed to work through some anger issues. Blowing stuff up seemed like a logical choice."
"Da, I noticed," she whispered leaning back against the pillows and patting his leg. "Why did you come back now?"
He rifled around under his shirt for a small, metal chain. Two small rings were attached, and he carefully threaded one through the link and clasp.
"My ring!" Linka breathed in wonder, watching as he held it in front of them, a faint glow evident within the core.
Wheeler nodded, taking her hand and twisting the ring gently onto her index finger. "About two weeks ago, your ring started glowing. But not like this, I mean. I woke up one night and it was like a heavy-duty halogen torch was shining through our tent. Kinda weird, but I guessed that something was happening."
"I woke up on Hope Island two weeks ago," she whispered, noting that the glow had now completely disappeared.
"I thought that it meant that your replacement had arrived, but I didn't want any part of it," he said, wiggling his feet leisurely. "So I stayed at the base until Ma-Ti contacted me the second time, which would have been about 36 hours ago."
"The second time?" she asked, unaware of Ma-Ti's desperate call to Wheeler.
"Yeah. He basically said that you were alive, pissed off and about to do something stupid," he recalled. Noting her shocked expression, he added "not in those exact words, though, hon. That's just what I understood from the conversation."
"They did not choose to tell me about this," she grumbled, making a mental note to thump Ma-Ti when she get the chance.
"Yeah, well with your track record so far, I'm not surprised, hon," he muttered, dodging yet another well-placed swipe from Linka.
"What do you mean by that?" she demanded, outraged at his comment. "If I had known you were coming, I would not have run off!"
"Oh come on, Linka... you walked into Central Park alone," he replied with snort. " What if my flight had been late, or I hadn't turned up at all? Geez, who knows where you could've ended up! I can kinda' understand their logic."
Defeated, she nodded. "All right," she said softly, "What happened to Nona... and Mishka?"
Stretching in anticipation of a long and emotional interrogation, he shuffled himself down the bed. Linka followed suit, until they were lying side by side, Wheelers hands clasped securely behind his head.
"We called Mishka straight after we were back on land. He was pretty devastated, naturally. When he broke the news to your grandmother, she apparently suffered a massive heart attack. She died on the way to the hospital, babe," he disclosed as gently as possible, distressed to hear muffled sobbing coming from the girl beside him.
"Come here, babe," he implored, moving his arm and allowing her to snuggle into his chest. She wept quietly for a moment, comforted somewhat by Wheeler's hand, stroking her hair at regular intervals.
"Where is Mishka?" she croaked, knowing that she probably wasn't prepared for the answer. She felt him press his cheek against the crown of her head as he answered. "We don't really know, Lin. He grabbed his stuff and took off. I guess it's understandable, after... you know," he trailed off, not knowing what else to say
"That is not so bad, I guess," she said, wiping away tears with the back of her hand. "I thought that maybe something else had... happened."
He nodded, before wrapping his arm around her waist and squeezing her tightly. They lay on the bed without speaking for a while, the darkness only punctuated by the odd sound of Linka's sniffling.
"Arghhh," Linka groaned as she repositioned herself into a more comfortable position and laid her hand across his upper chest, returning his embrace. "This is such a mess," she said finally.
"I thought so at the time," he replied with all seriousness.
"There is something else on my mind, Yankee. You mentioned in the the park that you didn't want to watch me die twice."
Wheeler nodded but remained quiet, his fingers making light circles against her waist, in turn causing the skin underneath to heat up and tingle pleasantly.
"I wasn't, um... consign, ah... what is the word they use?"
"Conscious."
"Da..." she replied, although by now, her intuition had already provided her with the answer. "I was conscious, wasn't I?" she murmured, "that is why you left and never kept in contact with..."
"I left," Wheeler interrupted angrily, "because they wanted to have their little picnics and reunions and get-togethers and pretend that it didn't happen! I mean, to this day, they have no damn idea that you died in my arms!"
Linka closed her eyes, hugging him closer. It was so inconceivable that this had all occurred within hours of her last mission, which was still so clear in her mind.
She propped herself up onto her elbows above him and gazed down at the American's tired face. "What happened to me?" she asked, her hair falling around him in soft tendrils. "I need to know, Wheeler."
He looked away, partly due to the difficulty of the subject matter. Mostly, however, it was due to the powerful, long-dormant feelings her beauty stirred within his soul, feelings which were beginning to reappear at a frightening speed. He closed his eyes, doing all he could to block out the scent of her hair, her porcelain skin and clear, green eyes which conveyed such intelligence and kindness. It wasn't a callous reaction: simply a defense mechanism to prevent the grief from resurfacing again.
Not to be deterred, Linka gently guided his face back again. "Please? I wont bother you with anything else, I promise... at least not for tonight, anyway."
He sighed, pinching the tip of her nose affectionately. "You never could take no for an answer, babe," he remarked, earning a wisp of a smile from the girl.
Taking a deep breath, he recalled the horrific events which had so inexplicably and completely altered the course of their lives.
"They're going to get struck by lightning, the idiots," Wheeler muttered to no one in particular, watching Gi through his bedroom window, shrieking wildly in the fierce rain. She quickly flitted past his line of sight, disappearing behind the Geo-Cruiser, followed closely by Ma-Ti . Kwame's pace was slightly slower, however this didn't prevent him from stepping into a slippery mud puddle and crashing spectacularly to the ground.
In spite of himself, Wheeler cracked up at the sight, stifling laughs as he watched the dazed African man get to his feet and retreat to the safety and shelter of their rooms.
"Did you see that, Lin?" he called out, but her lack of response indicated that she was probably already asleep.
Still biting back laughter, Wheeler flicked on the television, pushed a video into the slot and collapsed onto his unmade bed. For the next hour, his attention was solely focused on "Aliens," the volume turned up loud enough to drown out the majority of the storm.
Truth be told, Wheeler nearly missed the first indication that something was wrong. A massive bolt of lightning touched down outside, striking the ancient elm tree by the river. The vibrations were massive, but nearly indistinguishable from the thunder and howling wind which had been building in intensity for some time now.
Jumping up, Wheeler pressed stop on his VCR and peered out the window, the noise outside now preventing him from enjoying the video. He was awestruck to discover that half of the tree was missing- bright red embers descended from what remained of the trunk and branches.
Shit! Where the hell did it go?
Prompted more by curiosity than alarm , Wheeler stepped into the hallway and glanced around. Apart from a few leaks dripping from the ceiling, everything presented as normal.
As he passed the room next to his, he heard something that he couldn't identify. A loud thump was followed by an unusual cracking sound that issued loudly from Linka's room, startling him. It was only just audible over the sound of the storm, but the effect seemed to cause the hair on the back on his neck stand on end, nonetheless.
"Linka?" he called, aware that he was probably in for a supreme slapping tomorrow, retribution for waking her at this hour. He shrugged it off, before turning the doorknob and pushing the door inwards.
"Linka, are you alr..." His sentence remained half finished as the door stopped part-way, something blocking his access. More thumping noises occurred just behind the door, which contributed to his decision to throw his full body weight against the jammed entrance.
As Wheeler stumbled into the dark room, his feet made contact with about a dozen textbooks lying open and broken on the floor. He narrowly averted a textbook to the head as three dangled precariously from Linka's book shelf, which was now lying diagonally against the door.
"Linka!" he shouted, now extremely alarmed as he dodged and vaulted over the damaged furniture, searching for his friend. As panic began to set in, Wheeler was shocked to see that he was soaking wet. Staring up, he realized that the roof to her tiny room had caved in. The entire area looked like a disaster zone: Linka's small chair and table were mangled beyond recognition beside the window, but other familiar objects, such as her bed and chest of drawers were gone, buried under a mass of wood and plaster.
"GUYS!" he bellowed, "GUYS, GET IN HERE!"
"Where are you, babe," he pleaded, before sighting a pile of debris with a round bedpost sticking out. "Shit, shit, shit..." he seethed, finding a spot where he could safely pull pieces of timber and board from the bed without potentially injuring her further. He rapidly began the painstaking job of removing the wet scraps from the mattress, horrified to find broken branches amongst the fragments
"LINKA, HONEY...CAN YOU HEAR ME?" he shouted, desperate to be heard over the peals of thunder rumbling menacingly outside her window. "KWAME, GET THE HELL IN HERE!"
Wheeler's efforts were finally rewarded as Linka's blue bedspread appeared, although it was now coated in white dust and soaked through. He called for the others yet again, but their inability to hear his shouts only increased his frustration and fear. While removing a ceiling panel from the bed, a pale, motionless hand came into view. Scrambling into a better position, he heard muffled choking originating from beneath the massive branch which was obstructing his view of the injured girl.
"KWAME! GI!" he screamed, spurred into action as Linka's injuries became dreadfully apparent to him. Once the debris was clear, he found her now lying on her side, gasping for breath and bleeding heavily from wounds to her stomach and ribs. With disturbing clarity, he knew that the tree had hit her in the dead center of her chest.
"Oh God, no, no... Lin?" he pleaded, dismayed at the amount of blood, but utterly distraught in the knowledge that she was conscious and suffering terribly.
"KWAME, WHERE ARE YOU!" he screamed, his voice waging an unrelenting battle against the storm outside. He removed his shirt in an effort to staunch the blood but even at this point, Wheeler was aware that there was nothing that could be done for her now.
He lent down and carefully pulled her broken body into his arms, brushing the wet hair away from her chalk-white face. Sitting back against the far wall, he cradled her against his chest, watching helplessly as Linka's eyes began to surrender to the tiredness enveloping her. As her breathing began to subside, she made eye contact with him for what seemed like an eternity. A small smile followed, seemingly an acknowledgment of his presence.
Fighting the whirlwind of emotions circulating through his shattered soul, he smiled back, tears starting to fall as she quietly slipped away.
"Worst night of my damn life," Wheeler commented shakily, bringing his hands to his face as he composed himself. Barely able to stay awake now, he turned onto his side and closed his eyes. "We should get some sleep, Lin... you've got some major Kwame butt-kicking to do in about six hours..."
Linka hovered above him, feeling utterly drained by Wheeler's account of the night in question. "Da," she replied, suddenly weary and ready for rest as well. "I am sorry..." she whispered, "for making you remember all of that."
"Hmpffff," he mumbled, already dozing. Smiling gently, she reached down and grabbed the warm blanket at the end of the bed, throwing it over Wheeler and tucking it around his solid form.
At least some things never change, she thought, referring to Wheeler's legendary need for quality sleep. She quietly observed him for a moment, an overwhelming sense of affection warming her heart as her gaze passed over the small smattering of freckles covering the bridge of his nose.
Reaching down again, she unzipped Gi's boots and tossed them onto the floor beside the bed. She settled herself (a tad self-consciously) into a comfortable position beside the American, making sure that the hem of her dress was arranged at an appropriate length.
Finally satisfied, she turned onto her side and faced the wall, listening to Wheeler's steady breathing behind her. As her eyelids began to lull, she felt the American's arm slip protectively around her waist as he pulled her back towards him. Feeling unusually flustered, she relaxed into his embrace after a while as his breathing resumed it's steady rhythm, his breath warm on the back of her neck.
"Night, Linka."
"Good night, Jacob," she replied, at a loss to explain the hot flush creeping into her cheeks.
Boshe moy...God, that chapter was an absolute mongrel to write.
Oh yeah: a big cuddle to Grumpirah, Gromia, Jem (Rojeth), Fran (Miss Mango), Star 3, Chesney, Emerald Angel and Amgine for chapter thirteen reviews/emails.
Thanks for advice, Chesney- hope it didn't make you want to jump out a window or anything :-p
I'm also going to acknowledge (or embarrass) the very talented Ruthie for the feedback and for sending me an awesome AD-related artwork of Linka a few chapters ago. Love it, girl!
Keep reading and reviewing, possums!