Disclaimer: Everything in the Twilight universe belongs to Stephenie Meyer.
AN: As usual, I am indebted to edward-bella-harry-ginny for pre-reading, suggesting, and betaing this chapter.
Recap: The team's trip to Afghanistan was successful as they managed to secure 2nd Lieutenant Trace. The flight back included the mission debrief as well as Major Swan informing Col. McCarty and Edward about her upcoming meeting with Senator James.
Ch. 10. Annoyed
I thought I could be forgiven for a moment of dizziness on the train to work. I'd managed to catch a reasonable number of hours of sleep on the nine hour flight from Ramstein back to the states, but thirty minutes of sleep followed by ten minutes of shivering wakefulness repeated over and over doesn't fully satisfy. I blinked my heavy eyelids and wondered how I was going to engage my brain for several hours in a row with Col. Brown. I'd barely made it through my shower without toppling over. I could see the headlines now: Army Major Drowns in Inch of Water; Closed Casket Needed to Hide Flattened Nose.
Angela was quietly cheery when I arrived at the office, and a few minutes after I'd settled at my desk, I heard Mike's loud entrance. Angela came into my office.
"The agenda for today's planning session," she said, putting the paper on my desk. "You know Col. Brown is still email-phobic." She rolled her eyes a little.
"Swan and Duckling! My two favorite office buddies!" Mike announced from my open door. Angela cringed, her back hiding her face from Mike. I wondered desperately how much ibuprofen was left in my desk.
"I'll bite. Why is Angela your duckling?" I was going to hate myself when he told me, but I figured that I was already in a bad mood so a little more couldn't hurt.
"Weber? Webbed feet?" Mike's eyes shone with the joy of the truly clueless. Sometimes I wished he wasn't such a nice guy. How would he fare against Edward? Heck, how would he fare against Franky? Even Rodney was less…well, less.
"Mike. That's a stretch, even for you. If you don't stop, I'm going to get everyone to call you fig-boy from now on."
"Ooo! Is that the starting bell?" He was inordinately pleased with himself.
"Major Swan, I believe you need to meet in the third floor conference room in ten minutes," Angela said, providing a blessed end to the conversation. Mike took the hint and left, to my surprise. Angela winked and left me to prepare for the marathon prep session.
By the time it reached 4 p.m., I had rehearsed our presentation three times. Col. Brown was panicking about pitching every aspect of the task force's work. I'd had to learn a lot about my colleagues since only Col. Brown and I were going. We'd had meetings with six people on different parts of the task force to clarify their contributions to the presentation. I may have just been tired, but I thought I detected a note of resentment from several of them. I wanted to announce that I hadn't volunteered for this, but I kept my mouth shut. Finally, the colonel decided we were both ready, although he wanted to go over it one more time in the morning. Our meeting had been scheduled for two in the afternoon and was likely to last for only about thirty minutes.
I was now so tired that I couldn't even feel nervous about the meeting of my career. I walked slowly down to the Metro entrance and hoped I wouldn't fall asleep on the way home and then miss my stop. Sleeping on a cargo plane after a high-energy mission was NOT the best way to get rest. I cursed all annoying CO Colonels and their plans to ruin my rest.
Settling into the seat, I realized I was too tired to even drag out my iPod. My calves hurt. My back hurt. I decided I was now officially too old to go jaunting around the world.
"Bella? Bella Swan?" I looked up in shock to see a familiar face.
"Danny Bradford? What are you doing here?" Dan had been an older graduate student of Dr. Molina's; he had gotten his degree a few months after I had started the program. I saw him occasionally at conferences; we often spoke in the same sessions due to our similar work.
"I was consulting on our favorite topic," he answered with a weak grin as he sank into the seat facing me. Danny was a solid-looking man with olive skin, black receding hair and glasses. He was a native New Yorker and had a wicked and ribald sense of humor.
"Really? Were you at the Pentagon?" I was a little surprised that he would be called in to consult when I was on the spot, so to speak.
"No, I just…Look, I knew you worked here and I wanted to say hello."
"Why didn't you just call me, Danny? We could have had dinner or something." I took a more appraising look at him. He looked really tired. I knew he was only about ten years older than I was, but he looked twenty years older. He was oddly dressed in a red souvenir t-shirt from the Hard Rock Cafe and cargo pants. I was used to seeing him in crisp suits, but then again, I usually dressed up for conferences as well.
"I didn't want to leave any evidence that we'd talked," he answered quietly, his voice only just audible over the rumbling of the train.
"What?" My voice had dropped several levels to match his.
"I've gotten involved in something big, something I don't understand. I can't talk about it at all, but I wanted to warn you to be careful. If you're contacted about a strange project, don't get involved. Whoever these people are, they can do a lot of strange things, Bella. Please, be careful."
"What do you mean?" I hissed. "Are you in trouble? Can I help?" Danny shook his head.
"Don't worry about me. That's not why I came. I thought that you might be another target. Our backgrounds are so similar. And I tried to be careful coming to find you. I left my cell in the hotel. I changed cabs three times, and I bought new clothes." He waved at himself. "I left my other clothes in the last cab. I don't know how, but they always seem to know where I am."
"This sounds really serious. Please, let me help you," I pleaded. I almost told him I knew people who could help, but I stopped myself. In any case, he shook me off again.
"Just promise me you'll be safe." I nodded at him, eyes wide. "I'm getting off here. Take care, okay?" He sat unmoving until just before the doors closed, and then he slipped off the train quickly.
I sat in dumfounded silence, wavering as to whether Danny had lost his mind or whether there was some weird mental health mafia coming after psychologists. I was almost at my stop when I realized it was too late for me; I had to blame the exhaustion for my utter stupidity. Danny was warning me about something I was already involved in hip-deep, and I wished I'd asked him whether the "people" were military or not. Was it McCarty and his team, or was it Mystery Man? That question launched another round of anxiety. I'd only been in my apartment this morning long enough to shower and dress, and now the possibility of being caught by Mystery Man resurfaced. I would be home all evening with my newfound information about Danny, about Edward, about the weekend's mission, and about the team.
The apartment was quiet when I entered, and I had no sense of any intruder. I locked the door, and upon reflection dragged a chair from the dining table and shoved it under the door handle. It looked ridiculous, but at least I'd have a warning.
I had another restless night. I kept waking, thinking I'd heard something. Twice I'd gotten up with the trusty baseball bat and checked the security of the front door. I also woke up once in a cold sweat from a dream involving Mystery Man, a bomb, and a sniper's rifle. I supposed the elements of that dream were pretty obvious. The other dream that haunted me involved Edward and a singed pair of pants. I kept hearing him say "Is something wrong?" or perhaps "What's wrong?" or sometimes "Something here is wrong." The dream about Edward did not scare me.
Morning came too soon. Although the relief of a night spent without strange visitors to my apartment was, well, a relief, the strange dreams had prevented me from getting good sleep. I couldn't blame this one on McCarty or Brown, unfortunately. I put myself together and ate a quick breakfast. As I headed towards my front door, I saw the door I had jammed into place the night before. It was mildly comforting to know that no one could have broken in unless they'd come through my window. I snatched the chair out of the way and dragged it back to the dining area.
After arriving at the office, I had a few minutes to prepare before my morning practice session with Col Brown.
A knock at my door proved to be Major Newton, who poked his head into the office before I had a chance to answer. "Major Swan. Hey."
"Hey," I responded, surprised by his subdued attitude. He came in and perched on the corner of my desk.
"So Ol' Brownie has you really stressing, huh?"
"Is that what you call him? No comments like 'what can brown do for me'? Nothing about Colonel UPS?"
"Hey, that's a good one," Mike answered half-heartedly. Oh no. I had just done Mike for Mike. "I just wanted to let you know that you've got my support. Knock the senator's socks off."
"Thanks." He really wasn't so bad when you could calm him down.
"So, I didn't get to chat yesterday, you were so busy. How was the weekend? Jessica said she didn't hear from you at all." Mike's open eager face waited for my reply.
"Oh, um, yeah. My new weekend assignment is keeping me on my toes, you know? So it's working out with Jess?" I really needed to call her. I didn't know how I was going to find the time to get the rest of my stuff out of our Hampton apartment – I was still paying rent there until I could get my stuff cleaned up.
"Sure, she's great. Hey, I'll let you get ready for your meeting." Mike clapped me on the shoulder and headed back out of the office.
Col. Brown was micromanaging up a storm, with very little positive to show for his efforts. Ordinarily he kept the task force moving in the right direction in spite of the tendency for various factions to insist their special interest was the primary mission of the task force. I mean, everyone knew that veteran mental health issues should be the primary mission. Heh. We finally broke up for lunch. Col. Brown had requisitioned a car and driver to take us to the Russell Senate Office Building, so I had 30 minutes to grab a bite and meet him. I headed in defeat toward the vending machines. I perked up a little when I saw that frosted strawberry pop-tarts were item H-4. It was a buck fifty, but worth every penny for the pastry, the strawberry and the sugar. I shook my head in disgust. I'd skipped dinner from exhaustion the night before, and apparently it was affecting my ability to discern good food from an overprocessed nightmare. I began to drool a little as I headed back to my desk with the unexpected foil-wrapped treasure in my hands. The nutrition box even listed all the vitamins, so it couldn't be that bad.
After washing my white flour and refined sugar down with the dregs of the office coffee, I did a fist bump with Angela and headed down to the garage. The short car ride with the nervous Colonel Brown was uncomfortable. The tense atmosphere encouraged me to reexamine my motives for serving on the task force rather than spend all my time counseling patients. Which, if you thought about it, I was spending essentially zero time counseling patients now that the Pentagon took up half my week and McCarty took the other half.
We were dropped off at the office building and passed through security and badging quickly. An aide escorted us to the Senator's offices. We still had about twenty minutes until our appointment, and we settled in his plush waiting area.
"You look good today," Col. Brown said stiffly.
"Thank you, sir." Seriously? I looked good? I was in uniform. I looked exactly the way I always looked.
"I think Sen. James' support is what the task force needs, Major Swan," he said quietly. "With his influence on the Armed Services Committee, we stand a fighting chance to get the best for the veterans. I can't stress to you how important it is to have his good will."
"I will do my best, sir." Thankfully, he remained silent until the aide ushered us into the senator's office.
"Colonel Brown, and the lovely Major Swan!" Senator James' ebullience was in full force today.
"Senator," responded Col. Brown as we all shook hands. The aide seated us and then took his own place, presumably to take notes on the meeting.
Col. Brown and I presented the current findings and recommendations of the task force. At the end of our twenty minute presentation, Sen. James sat thoughtfully looking at our last slide of data.
"You make a powerful argument for increased support for the returning heroes," he began in his deep, Southern drawl. There was no country twang in his accent, but he had the slower vowels I associated with the moneyed South. "The facts and statistics are clear, but you don't have a face for your proposal. You need individuals with stories, and you need a mouthpiece for the task force."
"You would make an excellent advocate, Sen. James," fawned Col. Brown.
"I'm flattered you would think so, but I believe Major Swan is the best choice to be the face of your task force. She has served in harm's way, and she is young, articulate, and pretty. She could be a media darling."
"I think that's an excellent idea," agreed Col. Brown enthusiastically, and at once I realized it had been his plan from the beginning. I smiled, but I had a feeling I looked like a cornered animal. I was young and pretty? I had a Ph.D. and the rank of major. And I couldn't embarrass my CO in front of a senator. I didn't speak since I didn't trust what would come out of my mouth.
"In fact, next weekend I will be hosting a charity event, and it would be the perfect venue for Major Swan's debut. She can meet with congressmen, senators, and a variety of other players who could lend valuable support to this legislation." The senator regarded me with what I supposed was his version of fatherly support.
"We will make arrangements in her schedule," Col. Brown replied without consulting me.
"Do you need an escort, Major? My son Victor is about your age and he has the same rank."
"No thank you, sir. I believe I can find my own date," I replied, trying to soften my words with a wide smile.
"And Major Swan, this is not a military event," the senator intoned. "Do not wear that gawdawful dress uniform they make for the women."
oOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOo
I exited the office building, intending to head straight to the Union Station Metro stop. I could be home in less than 20 minutes. Heck, maybe less than 15 minutes. I was really, really angry with my CO and with the good senator, but I didn't feel like I'd had a choice. I had no desire to do what they were asking, but realistically, if it was best for the project, I would do what needed to be done. Still. When I reached the street, I stood in the crowd of pedestrians waiting for the walk signal. A black Lincoln with essentially opaque windows pulled up to the curb just to my right.
"Major Swan!" My shoulders hunched in a combination of embarrassment and oppression. The voice calling me was Col. McCarty. I headed over to the open door, trying unsuccessfully to ignore the stares of the other pedestrians. Hadn't they ever seen anyone in this town get picked up in a shiny black car? I slid into the back seat, and the car began pulling out almost before I had the door shut.
"Colonel. It's been a very long day. Please tell me you're kindly taking me home so I could avoid the Metro." I was unable to turn off the snark; I was too tired to fight my natural inclinations. All the aggression I'd built up in the meeting with Sen. James was fighting to rip a new something on someone.
"No, I have a matter of some urgency, and I need you to act as a member of my command team for the evening." I took a look at him, and my eyes popped. Col. McCarty was out of uniform, wearing a really amazing suit with a pale blue tie and holding a bouquet of lilies and roses.
"Urgency?"
"Yes, um, Edward has a thing every Wednesday night, and I have an urgent appointment this evening." Col. McCarty looked a little nervous. Where was the hard-bitten career army man I was used to?
"Appointment?"
"Yeah, I, uh, missed a few things this weekend with my wife."
"Wife?"
"Major Swan, are you all right?"
"I never imagined you being married for some reason," I answered lamely.
"Married, three kids. Monsters, really, but you gotta love 'em if they're yours. Anyway, it's really simple. Just stay with Edward; the drivers will drop you off at home when it's all over. Piece of cake."
"But—" The car came to a halt, and Col. McCarty smiled with the look of a desperate man.
"Thanks for everything." He hopped out of the car, and ran up to a tall, thin, blonde woman in a black ankle-length sheath dress with stiletto heels. I didn't catch a look at her face, but she seemed happy with the flowers.
"Good evening, Major Swan."
"Aaugh!"
"It's just me, your usual driver. Would you please place your phone in the compartment?"
"Right, sorry. I'm a little flustered. It's been a long day. Where exactly are we going?" I dropped my phone in the drawer which opened with one hand and massaged my calves.
"Cherry Hill Manor, Arlington, VA," answered the disembodied voice from the intercom.
"And that is?" My irritation was rising exponentially.
"A nursing home."
I pushed back into the soft upholstery, shifting my bag around to the empty seat. I was being driven who-knows-where in a luxurious vehicle; I might as well relax. I toed off my shoes and let the drone of the engine lull me.
I woke when the car came to a stop. The power nap had been completely dreamless. I checked my phone; it was nearly six in the evening.
"They're waiting just outside for you, Major Swan. We'll take you home from the compound."
"Yeah, thanks for everything." I stepped out of the car and had a moment of déjà vu when I found myself in an underground garage. There was a van, clearly military, next to me. An extremely large sergeant saluted me.
"Major Swan, we're here for the prisoner transfer." He opened the back of the van. Edward sat in the back, clearly annoyed. He was chained as he had been on the airplane. The sergeant began a laborious process of removing the restraints.
"Where is Emmett?" snapped Edward.
"Apparently he had a hot date with his wife. Something about how he ruined her weekend or something," I snapped back.
"Oh." He actually appeared mollified.
"Do you know her?" I asked, attempting to treat him civilly.
"Yes, she's good for him. They've been together a long time." The last restraint dropped and Edward ducked to get out of the van. When his feet hit the pavement, he stood straight. He was in dress blues; we made a nice matched set.
"So, what are we here for?" I asked.
"You're here to babysit," he answered with a grimace. "I'm here to visit someone." We entered the elevator and rode up to the lobby. When we arrived, I was surprised. The lobby was like a luxurious hotel. A young man in khakis and a polo shirt and carrying a clipboard approached us.
"Ah, Major Rogers, I see. General Miller has been eager to see you again. Your guest?"
"This is Major Jones," Edward answered quickly. The young man nodded and made a notation, then led us down a hallway to another elevator. I glanced at Edward, but he gave a slight shake of his head. I stayed quiet. On the third floor of the building, the man led us down a hallway, and stood in front of an impressive oak door.
"General Miller tires easily, as you know Major Rogers. I'll be waiting outside."
Edward opened the door, and motioned me in before him. The room was beautiful, with a luxurious leather couch, thick carpeting, and a tall window which emphasized the high ceiling. The room was dominated by a large bed.
"You can sit on the couch," Edward said as he moved toward the bed.
An older man was propped up there, his eyes darting over to Edward. His expression didn't change. Edward picked up the elderly man's hand and held it. I tried not to listen, but it was impossible not to hear. Edward spoke louder than normally; I guessed that General Miller was a bit hard of hearing.
"Hey, Road King. How are you tonight? The nurses treating you all right?" I noticed that Edward's voice was also more tender than usual, despite the volume. Road King? The name tickled the back of my mind, and suddenly it clicked. This was Four-star General Roger "Road King" Miller. His exploits were required reading in Military Science at UW. I took another look at his face, and I could recognize his features from pictures. I'd actually written a report on his strategy for an operation in Vietnam.
"That bad, huh? Everything's fine with us. We had a mission over the weekend, nothing we couldn't handle. Emmett's doing fine. He's with Lily Rose tonight."
I noticed that, while his eyes moved, General Miller did not otherwise respond to Edward's questions and comments. I vaguely remembered seeing something in Stars and Stripes about a stroke. General Miller had been retired for some years, but I knew he'd stayed active in politics, speaking out about various issues as it related to the army.
"This is Major Isabella Swan," Edward told the general. "Emmett authorized her to be on the command team." I got up and stood on the other side of the bed from Edward.
"Hello. I'm Major Swan." I picked up General Miller's other hand, which was cool and smooth. "I'm very pleased to meet you, General. I've done a lot of reading about your career." It could have been my imagination, but I thought he gave my hand a slight squeeze.
"Don't be crass. Yes, she's very nice," Edward said with a roll of his eyes. He motioned me back to the couch. "No. Absolutely not. Would I lie to you?" We all sat silently for a bit. I wondered how well Edward must know the general to be able to guess his responses.
"I miss you, too. Emmett's good, but he's not you. Is there anything I can get you?" I realized that Edward genuinely cared for the older man. He must have been a mentor of sorts, before the stroke. It seemed an odd combination, the elderly man and the young soldier. "Oh, look, a letter from your nephew. Did the nurses read it to you? Well, then."
I tuned out the words, feeling a bit of a voyeur. Instead, I chose to listen to the cadence and tone of Edward's reading. His spoke soothingly now, but I knew that at other times, he could be almost frighteningly seductive. Or maybe that was just me. A blush started from my cheeks and suffused outwards. I picked up a magazine from the coffee table in front of me and hid behind it while I listened to Edward's mellifluous voice. It was very calming after my tumultuous afternoon.
The visit lasted about another hour with Edward relating trivial comments about his day – music he'd listened to, having tuned his piano, something he'd read in the paper. It was mundane and comforting. We left the general, signed out as Majors Rogers and Jones, and got back into the car.
"They'll take me back first, of course," Edward told me, his eyes facing forward. "I can't be out in the car by myself, so to speak." There was a bitter edge to his comment. "So, how was your presentation today?"
"It went fine, I suppose." I was still annoyed with the sexist comments. Senator James was a pig.
"And everything's fine since we got back?"
"I suppose," I answered. I considered mentioning Danny's surprise visit, but I wasn't sure what it would accomplish. I really needed to talk with Col. McCarty. "How about with you?"
"Yes, fine. You're certain; no nightmares for example?" He scowled at the seat backs in front of us, every muscle in his torso rigid. What had I said to tick him off? He couldn't possibly know about my sleep disturbances.
"I feel like I've hardly slept enough to have much in the way of nightmares." That wasn't a lie, except by implication. "By the way, I thought I was the psychologist here. Have you had nightmares?" I regarded his stiff posture.
"No. I don't have troubled dreams." He was closed to me, as inscrutable as a monochrome painting. He didn't speak again, and when the car stopped, we were in the usual underground garage. A pair of soldiers waited to escort him. He didn't say good-bye, and I let him walk away silently.
When I finally stood at my apartment door turning the key in the lock, I noted I was home about four hours later than I had wanted. I was exhausted. Edward, Col. Brown, Col. McCarty, Mike, and the good senator from South Carolina had conspired to kill me. They were all in on it.
I opened my door, and one step into the hallway the scent of cigarette smoke and cologne surrounded me. Perfect.
AN2: ebhg and I are putting ourselves up for auction, so to speak. The next Fandom Gives Back auction will be June 23-July 7, 2010, and we're auctioning a one-shot (min 5000 words, T-rated) in the Masen and Swan series. The website for that auction hasn't been launched yet (should be going up today or soon), so more on that later!
I made a blog, primarily to record some of the Soldier X facts in one place, although I threw some other stuff on there as well (such as teasers). It's at gleena34 dot blogspot dot com (listed as my homepage on the profile). I also made a twitter account, but I'm really not sure why. I'm gleena34 there as well.