a/n: Thank you so much for the reviews! I'm still thrilled by the new readers and the feedback. Enjoy the chapter below, and I'll get working on the next one. Thanks again!
Chapter Seventeen: Lines You Cross
Red waited as I tried on some clothes at an Old Navy store. In my mind, I made a quip about a Navy man shopping at Old Navy. I was glad I didn't say it aloud.
My standard size jeans worked fine, and I found a few shirts that worked too. But a suitable dress or something nicer for the funeral evaded me. I stared at my reflection, holding up a black dress.
"Maybe," I said to myself. I tried it on. It fit kind of funny at my waist, but I'd already tried on three other dresses, and Old Navy didn't offer many styles to begin with. This one at least was long enough to cover my leg. I figured showing off the gauze-wrapped wound wasn't really a good idea. I frowned at my feet. I was going to need shoes to match.
I studied my reflection, turning this way and that. Maybe I should get Red's opinion. The dress made me look really pale. I'd need some makeup too.
I stepped out of the dressing room stall, looking for Red. He was sitting at the dressing room entrance, his head bowed down. He looked tired, and more than a little sad. It suddenly hit me what he'd been through. He'd lost three of his friends. Almost lost Lake. Been in combat, fought rebels, saw atrocities, gotten shot . . .
And here I was, worried about how I'd look for a funeral.
I felt ill.
"Jane?"
I looked up. Red was standing now.
"You okay?"
I nodded.
"I like it," he said, smiling and giving one nod at the dress. I meekly smiled back, and retreated to the dressing room.
I think he knew something was up. I paid for the dress, no longer caring that it didn't fit perfectly, and also bought a pair of slip-ons and other clothes. I followed Red from the store to his truck.
Once we got in the truck, he turned to me.
"What's wrong?" he asked. His lips were tightly pressed together, and I saw his eyes searching over me. Guiltily, I looked to the floor, where my bag of new clothes was. I wasn't sure if I wanted to do this, to explain . . . how would I even do it?
I remembered how I felt in the village, and afterwards how guilty and ashamed I was. Did I come all this way, to survive and see so much, only to forget so quickly? What did that say about me?
"Jane?"
I looked to him finally.
"How do you do it?" I asked. "See what you see, do what you do, and then come back to this . . . and still be able to . . . "
"Live?" Red filled in.
"Here I am, worrying about what I look like, when a couple of days ago I was just trying to stay out of reach of a crazy dictator." I sighed, frustrated at myself.
He tilted his head to the side. "Shopping's therapeutic, isn't it?"
I froze for a beat as it sunk in what he said. And then I just burst out laughing. He chuckled with me. It took me a second to settle down, and then I fiddled with the shopping bag.
"I was wondering when this would catch up with you," he said.
"Really?"
He nodded. "You have to go on. Sometimes it seems so pathetic, the things that matter here at home, but it keeps you sane." He smiled. "You get used to it."
I was afraid I already was used to it. And again, what did that say about me?
-0-0-0-
Red took me to a restaurant. He said Navy food was okay, but it was time for some real food. I protested, but he had a point when he said that Lake probably didn't have anything edible in his fridge. I half-feared we'd go to some bar, but I shouldn't have worried. Red pulled up to Chili's.
"What made you want to be a SEAL?" I asked Red over our meals. "Or even join the Navy?"
Red smiled slyly. "My dad was in the Army. I wanted some adventure, and figured following his path wasn't a bad idea."
"Were you disappointed?" I asked. He hesitated. I think everyone hesitates, when you ask one of those hypothetical if–you-could-do-it-over-again questions. But he shook his head.
"I joined up when I was 18, right out of high school." He shrugged and picked up a chip and dipped it in some salsa. "I probably should have gone to college, but it didn't matter to me. I just wanted to get out there."
"The field?" Wasn't that what they called it? Red nodded. He leaned back in our little booth.
"I had second thoughts after a few times out there." He paused, thinking to himself. "Everyone does. Something can shake you up, but you either quit, or you keep going."
The waitress came to top off our waters.
"Thanks," I said, but she ignored it and looked at Red.
"Can I get you anything else?" She smiled more broadly than she needed to. I hid a smile. Red shook his head.
"No thanks. Just the check," he said. The waitress, probably still in college, gave a pouty smile before leaving. I half expected her to glare openly at me, but thankfully she didn't. That would be awkward.
Once she left, Red chuckled.
"Sorry," he said.
"I wasn't sure if she was obvious enough for you to pick up on it," I said. That made him chuckle more.
"I'm supposed to be observant, so if I missed that, I'm in the wrong line of work."
We headed back to his truck.
"Tired?" Red asked as he drove. The city lights blurred by. I had no idea where we were, but the drive was lulling me near sleep.
Even so: "No, I'm fine."
He smiled in my direction, and turned the truck left. "Let's get some stuff for Lake then."
We got back to Lake's. For a moment, we both just stood there, in his living room.
"I think he'd rather you go through his clothes than me," I suggested. Red grinned and headed back to the bedroom. I followed him back, although I let him do the gathering of clothes.
Red rifled through the closet and snagged a shirt and some jeans. He also pulled out a uniform. I stared at it, draped in plastic.
"For the funeral?" I asked. Red nodded. "Will the hospital let him go?"
"They won't have a choice," he said with a grin. He turned to Lake's dresser. His eyes went to the photo on top. I saw Red tense, his shoulders squared and his whole body froze. "Wow."
I stepped closer, looking between Red and the photo of the mother and son.
"Yeah, I saw that earlier," I said. Red blinked a few times.
"I didn't know this got to him," he said. I found my heart beating harder.
"What?" For some reason, I wanted to know, even though it clearly had a bad end.
Red shook his head. "It was a couple of years ago." He kept his eyes on the photo and backed away until he sat on the bed. "We . . . we ran into some trouble. We were all firing at enemy forces. It was around a couple of shacks, and we all thought it was where the enemy was stationed."
He looked directly at me. As he spoke, I couldn't stop from seeing what he said in my mind.
"Lake threw a couple of grenades. He and I ran in to clean up—" he hesitated here to make sure I got what he meant. I gave a short nod. 'Clean up' was an easy code to break. "We found the boy inside. His mother was stunned from the explosions. She . . . screamed at us, picked up the boy. She didn't stop crying the whole time we were there."
Despite the heaviness in the room, Red smiled to himself. "I never knew he took it so hard."
"What do you mean?"
"Hey, he has this photo. LT took it—kind of a point to make with the Navy intelligence guys." Red sighed. "But normally . . . Lake wouldn't care. He doesn't show anything. Even back at the village, where you were . . ." There was that haunted look again in his eyes. "It bothered him, seeing that woman butchered, but only at first—"
I flinched. None of them had told me what happened.
Red saw my reaction. "Sorry. I didn't mean to upset you."
I could only shake my head. Red cleared his throat uncomfortably.
"Anyway. It stayed with me. It affected the whole team. Even LT," he said. "But not Lake."
It bothered me that he said that. I felt myself getting defensive, which was silly because he wasn't putting Lake down, not really.
"Just because he doesn't show it, doesn't mean it doesn't bother him," I said quietly. "There's a lot he keeps inside."
Red chuckled. "Well, he's not an open book."
"He has to keep up this strong thing you guys all do," I said with a smile.
"What's that supposed to mean?" He quirked a grin, teasingly.
"You know what I mean." I laughed. "Lake won't let people call him by his first name because he thinks it makes him a sissy."
Red busted up laughing then. "Okay, okay."
I looked back to the photo. Red was right; Lake was not an open book. But I'd seen how much he cared, how much things did bother him. He just wouldn't show it if possible, in case it would make him seem weak. I bet he wouldn't want me or Red to know we'd even seen this photo. I wouldn't bring it up, unless he did—I made the promise to myself right then. Some things had to stay private. And with Lake, I got that.
When I turned away from the photo, Red was watching me. He had a slight smile on his face.
"Let's go see Lake," he said.
-0-0-0-
I held the uniform high enough so it didn't drag across the hospital parking lot. Red toted a small bag of some other clothes and Lake's dress shoes. Man, were those things shiny!
"What time is it?" I asked Red. My internal clock was so screwed up. I knew it was night, but that's only because the sun was gone.
"9:30," Red replied. That's it?
"I hope we can still visit him," I thought aloud.
There was no problem seeing Lake, but he was asleep when we got to the room. Red quietly set up his uniform and clothes. I went to Lake's side. I wanted to wake him up, just to say hi, but his breathing was even. He needs the sleep. Especially if he's coming to the funeral tomorrow.
"Come on," Red whispered. I nodded, and gave Lake's hand a squeeze before leaving.
As we walked back to Red's truck, I saw him yawn. I felt so bad—I'd monopolized all his time, and made him go shopping, which I still felt weird about. But it had been a good day, hadn't it? I made it back to my country, alive, and spent time with a friend.
I stopped walking. "Red." He stopped and turned around. "Thanks for taking me around today." I felt silly blurting this out, but hey, what else was new. "I know this was probably the last thing you wanted to do today, but I . . . I really appreciate it."
I ended with a shrug. Red smiled and took a step towards me.
"I was happy to," he said. His voice dropped more softly. "Jane, I'm not sure you get it." I blinked. What didn't I get? "Get how much I owe you, and admire you. You brought Lake back. You've been through hell and come out stronger and kinder than anyone."
I felt my face heat up at this compliments. My eyes sought out the ground. But I felt his fingertips under my chin, tilting my head up. His blue eyes met mine, and before I knew it, he kissed me.
I froze. My lips registered how nice of a kiss it was, but my mind screamed at me. I didn't kiss Red back.
He noticed and pulled away. "I'm sorry," he said, rubbing his forehead. "That was . . ."
It was suddenly crystal clear to me that Red liked me (well, duh—but he felt more than being caught up in the moment). I blushed at the thought, and tried to smile politely. Wow, this was awkward.
"Long day ahead tomorrow," he said, and he nodded to the truck. I followed him, but not before glancing back at the hospital. I saw a figure step back from the curtains of a room. I frowned. Kind of weird, but I guess there wasn't much to do in hospitals.
When Red dropped me off, he walked me to the door. I felt the tension between us, though just awkwardness for me.
"Jane." Red struggled for the words. Suddenly he laughed. "I have no idea how to do this with you. With you, it's all different." He chuckled again, and I relented with a smile. "Can I take you out sometime?"
I almost pointed out that he'd taken me out tonight, but that was different. That was a favor, for me. This time, he was clarifying what the next thing would be—a date.
As much as I liked him, I couldn't go there. He was a friend to me, because someone else took a higher spot in my heart.
"Red . . ." I started searching for how to say it, but then I saw his face. He knew.
"It's okay," he said.
"If things were different, maybe," I said, but that sounded lame. "I just . . . Lake and I . . ."
His eyes grew wide. "Really?"
"I don't know, but . . ."
He smiled. "I should have known." He shook his head. "I'm sorry. Wow, if he wasn't injured, he'd kill me."
I laughed. I was relieved Red could joke about it. He smiled back, and I knew there were no hard feelings.
-0-0-0-
I pulled at the black dress I'd chosen. It bunched up with annoying static-cling. I sat in the middle of the church, while Red, LT, Doc, Zee and Lake were in the front row. I was surprised Zee was here, but he looked pretty good. Lake looked okay, physically, but he had yet to look in my direction. I knew this was hard for him though.
There were photos of Silk, Flea and Slo facing out to the congregation. I sat by Lena as the memorial went on.
The team stood up at the end of the memorial. I can't remember what was said. The words washed over me, but the grief stayed deeper. At one point, LT, Red, Zee, Doc and Lake each saluted the fallen members of their team. I started crying then, silently, but the tears streamed down my face.
I think there might have been arrangements for another funeral back in each soldier's home town. We didn't go to any cemetery for a graveside ceremony. I stood as the caskets were taken out of the church, with the rest of the team following and assisting (those that could—both Lake and Zee stayed in the church). I didn't know what was next. Where I came from, maybe we'd go back to the grieving family's home and bring over food and socialize, which was sick, but hey, it happened. I think the idea was to comfort the family.
The gathering dispersed, and my eyes followed Lake. He moved gingerly. I noticed an orderly from the hospital was standing nearby, but he left Lake alone for now. The grounds of the church were actually quite nice, extending to well-maintained gardens. I came outside and watched Lake from a distance. He suddenly stopped, grasping his side.
I trotted out to him.
"Lake?" I called out. "Are you okay?"
He straightened up and put on that stoic face of his.
"Fine," he said. I picked up on the shortness of his tone. He just went through a funeral, remember?
I stood next to him, but gave him a little space. Even with that space, I felt cold—from him. It was like he was radiating frosty anger. It made me uneasy.
"Have you talked to your family?" I asked him. He shook his head.
"No."
That didn't get me anywhere.
"When do you go home?" he asked evenly. I was glad for the question. I thought maybe he hated the idea as much as I did.
"I haven't made arrangements yet," I said. I tried to throw in a smile or a hint, but he didn't break his stony façade. It was like he didn't care. I struggled for what to say next. I wanted to tell him I didn't want to go. I wanted to say I would miss him. I wanted to ask what was between us. But the chill I felt was still there. I went out on a limb.
"What about you?"
Lake looked ahead at the grounds, and not at all at me. "I'm staying here." I expected that, but . . .
"Will I see you after I go?" I asked. Lake shrugged.
"Who knows."
My throat was closing up on me. Why was he being so aloof? I blinked a few times to clear my eyes.
"Well . . ." I coughed once just to break the silence. "I can stay a few days, if you—"
"I'll be fine."
"Are you sure? I can help—"
"That won't be necessary. I'm being released tomorrow, and I want my home to myself."
I felt my face heat up. Thank goodness he wasn't looking at me anyway. Did he really just . . . reject me? Not just that, but he basically withdrew his offer for me to stay at his apartment.
Maybe I'd mistaken what happened between me and Lake. Maybe the crises we went through together were just heat of the moment type of things, and nothing more. Obviously, I overestimated how he felt about me. Maybe our previous conversations, which I thought were tender and caring, were just him saying thanks and goodbye. Had I read too much into it?
I made myself look at Lake, or rather the side of his face since he wouldn't look at me.
"Thanks for letting me use your apartment last night," I said. My voice was dipping into that weak whisper, which it always did when I was about to cry. I cleared my throat, intent on not breaking down now. "I'll leave the key with Red."
He didn't even nod. I stepped back, once, twice, each step waiting for him to stop me. But he didn't.
"Bye, Lake." I hesitated one more second, and then made myself walk away.
I walked back to the church. As soon as I turned a corner and found the restrooms, I felt ill. I stumbled away from anyone who could see me. I ducked into an empty stall just to catch my breath.
I felt like I'd been shredded by gunfire.
