Author's note: The song for this chapter is The Wanted - Chasing the Sun.
The Pitter-Patter of Tiny Feet in Huge Combat Boots
Harkness
I was in a really weird mood the next day, exhausted from too little sleep, but feeling good after the multiple releases I'd had, with a healthy dose of self-consciousness thrown in. I just knew that Elle would take one look at my face and know that I'd been fantasizing about her. Not to mention all the other gossips on this boat who were even now undoubtedly passing around the tale of last night's incident in the shower. One of the downsides to living in Rivet City was that everyone knew everyone else's business almost as soon as it happened.
I headed down to the marketplace to wait for the galley to open so I could get some breakfast, since there was nothing to do in my hotel room except stare at the ceiling, and I'd never been one to just sit back and relax when there was work to be done. I hadn't expected to find anyone else up at this ungodly hour, but there she was, sitting at one of the tables cleaning her sidearm, a wicked looking scoped .44 magnum, and the dark circles under her eyes suggested that her night had been as rough as mine had, though she had a glow about her that belied those dark circles.
"Morning, Elle." I couldn't quite look her in the eye after all that had happened the previous night. She grunted something that sounded like a greeting, and I noticed that she was having trouble meeting my eyes as well. Nice to know I wasn't the only one feeling vulnerable about the whole thing.
I walked around the marketplace several times, checking stalls and making sure that everything was as it should be. I was examining a particularly scurrilous bit of graffiti on the wall, done by our own Ted Strayer in nauseating color and loving detail, and considering making him scrub it off with his tongue, when I heard the telltale buzzing whine of several bloatflies in the confines of the marketplace.
"Damn!" I swore and drew my submachine gun, backing away from the wall quickly and scanning the large room for a target. As I backed into the center of the room, I smacked right into something warm and female. I turned with a muffled curse and found that Elle had her .44 magnum out and was also perusing the area with a businesslike air. She blushed when our backsides connected, but quickly turned back to the threat at hand.
"Back to back," I said, and felt her nod against my shoulders. "Try not to put any more holes in my walls," I teased, because I knew very well she could handle herself around bloatflies. She elbowed me lightly in the ribs, and then the enemy was in sight and we both raised our weapons to meet them. I lost count of how many bloatflies I shot; that must have been one hell of a nest she stirred up yesterday. I could hear the roar of her hand cannon as we moved and circled as one, eliminating all the threats. I dimly registered several of my security guards chasing more of the insects out into the corridors of the city, but I was too caught up in the battle to acknowledge them. Fierce joy sang through me at the appreciation of having someone to guard my back as I guarded hers, and my world had shrunk to include only her and me. There were three bloatflies left by then, and we each took out one, with the third being a toss-up as to who got it first.
When all the bloatflies had been taken care of, I holstered my gun, turning just in time to collide with her as she did the same, and had to catch her to keep her from falling. We were so close together, bodies touching at hips and chest, my arms around her shoulders, hers around my waist. I could feel the heat pouring off her body as we both struggled to shrug off the adrenaline that had hit us hard, and I realized that she wasn't wearing any armor this morning, just a ragged pair of pants and a tight shirt that emphasized parts of her I had trouble keeping my eyes off. Thanks to last night's episode in the shower, I knew exactly what lay under a few scant bits of cloth, all that separated me from her velvety skin.
"Nice shooting," I said, needing to do something to break the tension that shimmered between us like heat waves on hot pavement. "I'm glad to see you can handle a big gun like that. Some grown men I know have cried like babies after firing one of those."
"Thanks," she replied, breathlessly. "You too. I've never seen trigger control like yours on a submachine gun. I'm jealous."
We had run out of things to make small talk about, and I could feel her breath against my neck, our faces only inches apart. I put my hand up to brush a strand of hair out of her eyes and was caught in the grip of something inexplicable as soon as I touched her face.
"Elle, I…" Why was I so unsure around her? She stared up at me with those large eyes, lips slightly parted, and I just couldn't help myself. I bent my head to hers, intent on covering her mouth with mine, and god help me, she didn't stop me. But just as our lips touched, I heard many sets of footsteps and surprised whispers around me as the inhabitants of Rivet City entered the marketplace to start their day. I thrust Elle away from me like I'd been burned, and I swear I saw a hurt look flash through her eyes for a moment, then as she registered the growing, awestruck crowd, it was gone as if it had never existed. In the next moment, we were enveloped in a miniature whirlwind that turned out to be Angela Staley. She hugged Elle, hugged me, then hugged Elle again.
"You'll never guess what happened last night," she burbled, unaware that both Elle and I knew exactly what had gone on last night in the showers. She led us both to her father's restaurant and danced with joy as she took her place behind the counter, turning to Elle with a blissful look on her face. "Thanks to those ant pheromones you gave me, Diego was putty in my hands. We're getting married!" she squealed.
"About those ant pheromones," I said sternly to Elle. "What were you thinking, giving dangerous drugs to minors? Is this all part of your nefarious plan to make me think you're more trouble than you're worth and throw you off my boat once and for all, because you really don't need to add to the slate on that one?" I expected Elle to look at least a little ashamed, but she smiled a mysterious smile instead.
"Do you have any of the pheromones left?" she asked Angela, who produced a small spray bottle and dropped it in Elle's outstretched palm.
"I didn't use the whole bottle because I didn't want to melt poor Diego's brain," Angela explained. "There's enough left for you, Elle, if you want to use them on a certain…um…person." She lowered her voice as if imparting a secret, and her eyes quickly flicked to me, and then away as she said it, like I didn't know she was referring to me.
"Sure, I'll bite." Elle laughed and spritzed some on her neck, tilting her head back to expose her soft throat. "I'll even spray some on him, just to make sure I've done a thorough job." Before I could duck, she gave me a wicked look and sprayed the contents of the bottle square in my face. I glared at her through sneezes and waved my hand in front of my face to clear the air.
Elle waved her fingers like a magician casting a spell. "Harkness is now under my complete control," she intoned, smothering a laugh.
I gave her a look that could have curdled Brahmin milk. "Dousing the security chief with chemicals is a good way to get that trip out the porthole that I mentioned." I took a whiff of the stuff and gagged. "Phew, what is this? Smells like cheap perfume mixed with scotch and Nuka Cola." Although privately, I wasn't sure it wasn't having the intended effect. I was almost ready to sit up and beg like a trained yao guai, and certain parts of me were already trying to do the same. Think about something un-sexy, my inner voice advised. Like disarming frag mines…thoughts of Elle eyeing your manhood like it was explosive ordinance…scratch that. Cleaning up bloatfly guts from the marketplace…there, that'll do the trick.
"Exactly," Elle said triumphantly, spreading her hands to illustrate her point. She turned to Angela, who had been staring, openmouthed, through our exchange. "You didn't need ant pheromones to help you with Diego, you just needed a shot of confidence. I talked to Father Clifford at the church, and he said that he'd made a mistake, telling Diego to stay away from you. So I just let you think you were getting ant pheromones to make you irresistible, and nature took its course." She clapped Angela on the shoulder. "Last night was all you."
"So…when Diego and I…he was responding to me, not the chemical?" Angela had a look of wonder on her face.
"Yep," Elle said. "Guess he thinks you're pretty sexy just the way you are."
Angela hyperventilated for a long moment, too overwhelmed to do more than turn an interesting shade of blue from lack of oxygen. "Oh…oh…wow…," she stammered as her face screwed up in worry. "Sss…so, I, uh…," she stuttered, smiling as realization crossed her face. "That's awesome!" she finally squealed, just when I thought I might have to thump her to get her breathing again. "Sooo," she said, moving on to other topics with a speed that made my head spin, "I heard about you two in the bath house last night, and then I come in this morning to find you smooching in the marketplace. Will we be planning another wedding soon?" She wiggled her eyebrows at me, and that was simply it. I had to get out of there before another word came out of her mouth. Choking down a can of Cram for breakfast in my office was worth the peace and quiet I would get, away from the knowing stares and the gossip that kept the city fueled as surely as the nuclear reactor did.
"Explaining my motives to a sixteen year old isn't on my to-do list this morning," I drawled as if I hadn't a care in the world, and then made my escape. But the sanctuary of my office seemed impossibly far away when Father Clifford stopped me before I had gotten more than fifty feet out of the marketplace.
"Saint Monica's blessings be upon you this fine morning, my son," he greeted me. "Have you heard the glad news of the nuptials I'll be performing soon?" My heart was in my mouth for a moment, thinking he referred to Elle and me, then I remembered Angela and Diego.
"Get to the point, Father," I said gruffly, emotional turmoil leading me to be a bit sharper with him than I had intended. "I've got work to do."
"I just wanted to invite you to the wedding of Angela and Diego on Friday. I know you are not a…spiritual man," he continued, putting it nicely that I stayed as far away from the church as I could get, "but surely the thought of two lives becoming one could entice you to enter God's domain for one day?"
"Maybe," I said quickly, just to shut him up. "Is it true that you gave Elle your blessing to meddle in Diego's life with the intent of getting him together with Angela?"
Father Clifford smiled angelically. "Elle, such a sweet girl with a large heart," he rhapsodized. "She made a large donation to the church, a large donation, and she really seems to care about the people of Rivet City."
"Yes, she's wonderful," I said patiently, "but…about Angela and Diego?"
"Oh, yes," he recalled himself. "She saw that there was a problem between them, a problem created in part by me, and she appears to have fixed it. I did tell her that I wished I had not encouraged Diego to stay away from the Staley girl. I think they belong together, and now they will be."
"Thank you for clearing that up, Father," I said, turning to leave.
"My son," he called after me before I had taken more than three steps, "I've been hearing that you and young Elle have been getting rather…close lately. It would be an honor to perform your nuptials as well. I have a section of Saint Monica's gospel that would be perfect for the two of you, a lovely scripture about warriors of God."
"No, Father," I said, struggling to keep from hyperventilating myself. "No wedding. I've…gotta go." I turned and ran the last few feet to the stairwell, determined to make it to my office before I was stopped by any more 'well-wishers' bearing juicy tidbits of gossip about my love life.
Once in my office, I sagged into my desk chair with a sigh of relief. Alone at last, with no one looking over my shoulder or whispering behind my back. I pulled a box of Fancy Lads snack cakes out of my desk drawer and munched on them while I leafed through the security reports, savoring the sugar rush from the treat. The reports were more of the usual from my officers: Trinnie was offering her favors to anyone who would buy her a beer and then threatening to cut their noogies off in the same breath. Bannon and Seagrave Holmes were still at their never ending catfight about who should be on the council, which had almost degenerated into a fist fight in the Muddy Rudder. Ted Strayer, hopped up on Jet, had gone streaking through the science lab last night yelling something about eating the sun and tripping balls.
"Hey boss." That was Lana Danvers, my second-in-command, coming in for a chat on her way off her night shift. "How's it hanging?" She laughed. "Oh right, it's not hanging anymore after your eye groping session with Little Miss Trouble in the bath house last night. Did you get some? Please tell me you got some." She correctly interpreted the expression that flitted across my face. "You didn't get any? Boss man, you need to get laid. Desperately."
"Oh god, Lana." I buried my face in my hands. "Not you too! Is there one person on this boat who doesn't know about last night?"
"Well, maybe Pinkerton," she replied, "but only because he's been holed up in the broken bow for who knows how long."
"Look, before I say something that gets your imagination all fired up and causes the rest of the boat to spontaneously combust due to all the fluttering and twittering, you should know that absolutely nothing happened. The partition fell down, everybody got a good look, and we're all adults here. Well, except the Staley girl, and she was a little too busy with her own thing. No, I didn't get any, and no, it wasn't performance anxiety because nothing happened. Get it? Nothing! Ergo, there's no wedding, no purple-haired half cop, half Lone Wanderer illegitimate offspring, and no further comment, okay?"
"Wow…got it, boss." Lana looked a little taken aback at my vehemence, but that didn't stop the next words out of her mouth. "I understand that you don't want people to know that you nailed Gary Staley's little girl and the Lone Wanderer in your unexpected, but inevitable, uncontrolled fit of hedonism. Don't worry boss, your secret's safe with…"
"Stand down, dammit!" I ordered her sharply. "All right, you've had your fun, now get back to work before I make you walk the plank. Can we drop it? Please? Now, is there anything new going on that's not in these reports?"
"The lock on the secondary hatch to the marketplace is busted again," she said, all business now. "It swings open way too easily."
"I'll get Garza to look at it," I sighed.
"Seriously, someone could get hurt."
"I'll get right on it, Lana. Anything else?"
"Yes, two things actually. One, you know the rest of the council made you remove the plank, so you can't make me walk something that isn't there and is historically inaccurate to boot, and two, those damned kids are a menace. They're down there playing tag in the marketplace with your guuuurlfriend," she drawled.
"She's not my girlfriend," I growled, "and they're just kids. How bad could it be?"
"Mark my words," she said, "first it's 'tag,' then we'll be hearing a crash and a thud and a scream."
"Quit being so melodramatic," I said in disbelief. "That'll never happen."
Famous last words, right? Like she had spoken it into being, the minute Lana mentioned it; there was a loud crash and bone crunching thud, followed by an agonized masculine scream.
"What the fuck?!" I cursed, and ran out of my office, Lana hot on my tail, to see what had happened. When I got to the marketplace, I saw my sharpshooter Carlos Whitefeather lying on the ground just outside the faulty hatch, moaning and cradling his shooting hand, surrounded by several other members of security and Doctor Preston, who was ministering to him. Just inside the hatch, I saw the children, C.J. Young and James Hargrave, and the devil herself, all staring at the ground and wearing identical ashamed expressions of utter dejection.
"What the hell happened here?!" I thundered in my best 'Security Chief' voice! Everyone started to speak at once, and I cut them off with a sharp gesture. "Nobody speaks but Elle. Since she's the grownup here, or supposed to be."
"We were just playing tag," Elle said, in a very small voice. "The kids got bored and I said I'd play with them. I was 'it,' and I was chasing James. He went around that corner by the hatch, but my foot slipped in a wet patch and I slammed into the door. I didn't expect it to pop open like that," she said tearfully, "but it did, and it smashed right into that guy." She gestured at Carlos. "I guess he was reaching for the handle when the door slammed open, and it hit him in the hand. I'm really sorry, Harkness." She hadn't looked up from the floor through her entire recitation of events.
"We're sorry," the kids chorused. "We won't do it again."
"Great!" I exclaimed. "Just great! You've incapacitated my sharpshooter on the very day we were supposed to escort Doctor Li to Arlington Library to speak with the Brotherhood scribes." She opened her mouth to apologize and I held up my hand. "Don't speak, just…don't speak." Going over the possibilities in my head, I reached a snap decision about the mission and pinned Elle with a look that had made lesser men cringe. "Since Carlos is no longer able to participate in today's fun and games, thanks to you, you'll be taking his place as our sharpshooter. It's either that or you wait outside the gates until we get back. I'll be damned if I let you wander this ship when you could be wreaking havoc out there."
A welter of protests rose in the wake of my pronouncement, but I was in no mood. I raised my hand for silence again.
"I," I said slowly, trying to maintain my calm, "am going back to my office, and I don't want to hear another word from any of you until it's time to go to the library." Turning on my heel, I stalked back to my office, praying that no one would be stupid enough to follow me and get the sharp edge of my tongue.