CHAPTER 9
Again I apologize for not updating as frequently as I should. Those of you who know me are aware that my schedule isn't as typical as the next person's. I hope for that to change one day, so I'm keeping my fingers crossed. As for this chapter, it is a bit lengthy-decided to provide some insight into my "Battle AU" by adding a little bit of history to the mix. I also added a bit of citrus as a long overdue gift to my good friend, MistyGirl1, who has encouraged me, nudged me, and patiently waited for me to get this story moving. So I dedicate this chapter to her. Thanks GF! I'd also like to thank WhiteSwan, GoldAngel2, and transmutejun for looking at a portion of this chapter over so many moons ago-you ladies are wonderful! And thanks to those of you who asked about it-that means a lot. The story continues…
Chief Anderson's eyelids fluttered open upon feeling the warmth of the morning sun's rays seep onto his stubbled face. The arrival of a new day announcing itself by bleeding its light between the blinds covering the large windows in the semi-darkened room. He yawned and stretched his arms above his head, arching his spine off of what was a very uncomfortable surface. The small but lumpy protrusions he felt embedded against his back reminding him that he didn't spend the night in his bed at home. As he shifted his temples began to throb; this also reminding him of why he didn't spend the night in his bed at home. Mumbling something about 'scotch' underneath his breath, Anderson grimaced at his discomfort as his eyes tried to adjust to familiar surroundings. He eased himself up slowly as he took in the confined space, the dark panels on the walls, the large desk in the center of the room; all of it through blurred eyes as the Galaxy Security Chief suddenly remembered he'd once again fallen asleep on his office couch inside of the IFPP Building. He groaned inwardly as he positioned himself into a sitting position, cupping his hands over his weary face before dropping his elbows onto his knees. He began contemplating what happened several hours before…
Anderson had every intention of going home the previous evening after having spent most of the day in conference with the Federation Board over Mark Beckham's fate. Comprised of 12 members, 7 men, Anderson included, and 5 women, it was the Federation Board that called into question the majority of Anderson's decisions regarding the utilization of G-Force, whether cities were under attack or even civilian assignments. Many on the panel felt that Mark should be relieved from his position permanently as Commander of G-Force, expressing that placing the young man on suspension was simply delaying the inevitable. Despite Mark's contributions over the past few years his recent behavior and abject failure to comply within the regulations of the IFPP demanded immediate expulsion. One male senior member remarked, "He not only compromised his identity but the identity of his team mates! Zoltar won't rest until he finds him, particularly after his Dooms Day plans were sabotaged by his father! We can't take a chance in investing any more time in this young man while he deals with the repercussions of his actions!" Words of support from the other members were spoken loudly, many nodding their head in agreement with the older man.
Anderson stood up from his seat slamming his fist against the surface of the large conference table and returned angrily; his voice rising above the noise, "That young man's father gave his life for not only the lot of you but for this planet!" The level of noise dissipated after that statement and Anderson pressed on. "We deliberately kept Ken Beckham's identity a secret for the purpose of carrying out that mission and he succeeded! His son is now dealing with the repercussions of our actions! Beckham's son has shown nothing but loyalty to the Federation's cause! What Mark needs now is support! He doesn't deserve to be cast aside because of his mistakes! He's in treatment now and we expect a full recovery!"
"How can you be so sure of that?" one female member asked. "It's my understanding that Mark was given an alien derivative by a Spectran operative, a former researcher for the ISO. That drug was administered at a time when he was already using God knows what else. Can you honestly tell us that you and your medical team are aware of the derivative's effects or how long it could take for him to recover? If he ever recovers at all?" The woman then stood up from her seat. "G-Force needs someone at the helm to lead their team! What they don't need is some depressed, recovering drug addict!"
Another board member spoke but with a different agenda. "We're all upset at the damage this young man has caused to himself and to the Federation's reputation. But I am in agreement with Anderson. We can't simply toss the young man out of our jurisdiction. Mark is still a valuable commodity. The strength and power he exudes with the cerebonic enhancements are too remarkable to ignore. I propose that we terminate his identity given the circumstances and produce a new one for him. No longer will Mark serve as Commander of G-Force but relocated to another division within the Intergalactic Alliance."
This made Anderson even angrier as memories of Mark's father began to surface. "You intend to wipe Mark out as conveniently as an eraser over a chalkboard? As if though he never existed? He was trained to lead G-Force! Whom do you propose to take his place? And where in the hell would you send him? You could quite possibly be leading him open to a Spectran hit if sent any where else!"
The senior member again responded openly. "I propose that Officer Jason Devereaux be promoted as commanding officer."
The expletives muttered from Anderson caused some of the board members visible embarrassment, the shades of red on their faces a positive indicator to anyone believing otherwise.
"G-2 is only acting as commanding officer at the moment," Anderson returned indignantly. "He's an outstanding force to be reckoned with and we are fortunate to have him on our side, but he hasn't exhibited the leadership capabilities which I believe are necessary to head G-Force. If all of you would just…"
"Then teach him!" the senior member shot back. "The proposal is on the table Anderson! We have given you and that young man all we are willing give! Do…your…job!" he enunciated looking at the Galaxy Security Chief with thunderous eyes. The older man continued, "Should Mark's treatment prove successful then he should be transferred to our sister planet Riga. With his outstanding fighter pilot abilities he can be placed within the realm of the Rigan Fighter Squadron."
Anderson looked around the room as the majority nodded in favor of the senior board member's proposal. Mark would be placed in the same unit his father headed. His very existence wiped clean and given the chance to start over-if the young man could ever be convinced of that. The Galaxy Security Chief felt his presence in the meeting was unnecessary; he was simply there by default.
The vote had been placed and unanimously decided in favor of Mark's transfer by the 10 members in attendance. The deciding vote was to be made by President Elizabeth Kane, head of the Intergalactic Alliance. Fortunately she was at a summit meeting on the East Coast but would be returning within the next few days. Liz Kane was an old colleague and friend of his known for her fairness in judgments of this caliber. With little time on his side Anderson began to wonder if it were possible to devise a presentation that might persuade her to decide in favor of Mark being reinstated. It was possible to influence President Kane but she relied on proof rather than blind theory. He needed documentation, something to support his belief in Mark's recovery. Trouble was he had nothing to offer, nothing to place at her feet. He'd only received a vague report from Princess regarding Mark's recovery while staying with her and Jason was providing even less information.
Anderson lowered his head as the board members adjourned and filed out of the conference room. Upon realizing he had nothing to sustain Mark's position as head of the team the probability of his not returning to lead G-Force became very real. The team dynamic would suffer a major loss; the remaining G-Force members devastated to learn that their commander would not be returning to lead them. The Galaxy Security Chief began to question his role in the downfall of that troubled young man.
Anderson withdrew to his office for the remainder of the afternoon after that. He should have known better than to attempt to go up against the senior board members of the Federation. He had an antagonistic relationship with those headstrong, unyielding pains in the ass for almost 10 years. Anderson himself was beginning to feel like the fall guy; a mere public relations ploy whenever a photo-op required a hand shake 'for the good of the Federation.' Mark never stood a chance. Once a mistake was made in the eyes of those men and women they could make you virtually disappear without a trace; relocating an agent without so much as a word explained to their families.
The same thing had happened to Ken Beckham 18 years ago. His cover was that of commercial airline pilot but he'd been an agent for the Intergalactic Federation of Peaceful Planets soon after his graduation from the Space Academy. His identity was discovered during what was to be a routine transference of information, an exchange of significant documents from one operative to the next. One of the younger operatives was captured by a Spectran agent and tortured for the names of several key Federation operatives. Among those named was Ken Beckham. In order to halt further investigation into his background and possibly spare the lives of his family, the older Beckham 'died' seemingly in a plane crash he'd been the pilot of off of the Eastern Coast. Colonel Adam Cronus was a character that had been created by the Federation to throw the Spectrans off of Beckham's past. Anderson had no knowledge of this until after he'd been promoted from the ISO's Chief Researching Analyst to Galaxy Security Chief.
To Anderson's surprise, Beckham literally appeared at his doorstep after having been presumed dead for seven years. Anderson had been sworn to secrecy, informed by the Federation should he disclose Beckham's identity that he would be severely punished under the laws of the Intergalactic Alliance. The timing couldn't have been worse. He and Maria Beckham, Ken's widow, were making plans for a future. The two of them having reignited the love they once shared while students at the ISO Academy. Maria was never informed of her husband's return even under the guise as Colonel Cronus and he had never contacted her. As Cronus, Ken had chosen to live his life as the confirmed bachelor. He even seemed to thrive on it; women came and went into his life as if through a revolving door.
When confronted by Anderson to inform his wife at the very least, Ken stood firm with the Federation's decision. "You know I can't come forward Bill. There's the penalty of imprisonment for both of us if I do. This mission is too complex and as much as I care for Maria, she's been doing alright without me. You've seen to it that she and the boys had everything that they needed over the years. Besides from what I've heard, you've taken my place as man of the house. We both know you always wanted that." Ken's words were spoken with a hint of malice, not regret and their once close friendship languished after that. Maybe if Ken had shown some sense of remorse, Anderson might've told Maria everything. But he never did and the guilt emanated from the lie caused him to alienate himself from her and her sons. Only until Maria had been diagnosed with cancer, did Anderson return claiming his love for her but the disease claimed her quickly. She died several months after being diagnosed never knowing that Ken was alive. Her last request to Anderson was for him to take care of her sons; referring to them as 'our boys,' her belief that Anderson was more of a father to Mark and Matthew than Ken ever was. It was a promise he tried to make good on but Ken, as Cronus, constantly interfered; influencing Mark and Matthew whenever the opportunity was available.
Anderson had shrugged off his suit jacket, loosened his tie, rolled up his shirt sleeves and went straight to the small mini-bar in his office; a little something left behind by his predecessor. Though he rarely used it, he'd felt the need for a glass of scotch after the day he'd just had. He raised the half-filled glass to the light, swirled the amber colored beverage before him and took a big gulp, allowing the liquid to burn his throat as he closed his eyes tightly at the sensation of it. "Exactly what I needed after this bitch of a day!" he mumbled before pouring himself another healthy glass and draining its contents, followed by another. He decided to plop onto his couch for a small reprieve from the day's events but exhaustion, both physically and mentally eventually claimed him. His body had given into its demands and he'd fallen into a peaceful slumber that evening, assisted by some damned good scotch…
Anderson inched himself off of his couch as he felt around for his eyeglasses. Discovering his glasses on the floor near his feet, he retrieved them, fingered the frames into his shirt pocket and stood up quickly. The move almost cost him his balance, however, but he rebounded straightening himself to his full height. That move caused him to wince, the discomfort after spending the night on the couch still evident in his taut muscular frame as he moved his neck from side to side. In an attempt to regain his equilibrium, Anderson shuffled to his bathroom cursing himself for giving into the effects of alcohol even if it was only two drinks. Wait a sec…it was three drinks wasn't it? Shit I lost count after two!
He stumbled as the light came on automatically at his entrance and groaned aloud. He took in his appearance in the bathroom mirror, the reflection cast showing his tousled dark hair, red rimmed eyes, and cheeks shadowed with stubble. Anderson shook his head after shrugging out of his dress shirt and decided not to berate himself too harshly particularly after his meeting with the Federation Board. If he got any sleep at all then he sure as hell deserved it. Sleep had been eluding him since Mark had gone missing and then returned to them barely alive. Remembering his promise to Maria gave him a sense of purpose. He suddenly remembered his meeting with Jason for later this morning. The Condor hadn't provided him with anything other than a nod and some futile paperwork of old mission reports; nothing about Mark. He couldn't help but feel as if though he were being played; suspecting that Princess was the source for withholding any updates on Mark's condition and that she'd convinced Jason to go along with it. The more he thought about it, he was even more convinced that something was being kept from him He made a mental note to check in with the security division tracking Mark's moves via the sensor worn on his ankle. Anderson turned on the sink's faucet and splashed a handful of cold water onto his face.
He'd just reached for a nearby face towel when he heard the shrill ring of his desk phone. The sound of it was magnified ten times secondary to his mild hangover. He cursed again as he placed his hands over his ears, the sound echoing throughout his office like that of a monstrous school bell. Hurrying towards it Anderson pushed the button near the phone's flashing blue light, a signal that the call was coming from the Federation's Military Police. He placed the call in conference mode as he stood over the desk drying his face.
"Chief Anderson here," he responded curtly. "Go ahead." He began searching through his desk drawers for some much needed aspirin.
"Good morning, sir. This is Sergeant Riley. Just wanted to inform you that Commander Beckham's place has been monitored all night. We've secured his quarters and are returning to the base," the officer replied in an efficient tone.
"What in the hell are you talking about Riley? I never sent word to you to monitor Commander Beckham's home." Anderson eyed the phone as if he hadn't heard correctly. He threw the towel onto his desk after discovering a bottle of aspirin in the last drawer he'd chosen to search.
"Sir we were informed that Commander Beckham's place had been vandalized by Spectran operatives. We were sent there to monitor and report any suspicious activity should they return. Officer Jack Harper accompanied us."
What in the hell…? What's been going on? What was Tiny doing overseeing the assignment? Anderson seethed inwardly upon realizing the extent at which the team would go to help their suspended Commander. His knuckles turned white as he ripped the plastic cap off of the aspirin bottle. "On whose authority were you sent to Beckham's home?" he demanded angrily. As if I didn't already know, but I need to hear him say it!
"Er…um…Officer Jason Devereaux sir," the sergeant croaked sensing trouble from Anderson's tone. "Sir we were under the impression that you'd been informed and although Devereaux gave the order that it was under your command."
Anderson nodded his head after that confirmation and threw the two pills towards the back of his throat, swallowing them without water. "Thank you Riley," he responded tightly. "I can handle things from here." He pushed the phone's conference button ending the call and tossed the aspirin bottle aside not caring where it landed.
His steps were heavy as he walked away from his desk, one hand to his hip as the other covered his eyes coming to a standstill in the center of his office. That idiot! He activated the Federation MP's without even consulting me and sent them to Mark's airstrip after it had been broken into by Spectran agents! This is fucking great! Those hounds on the Federation Board are going to love this! And Jason just threw them another bone! Perfect! Just perfect!
Anderson blew heatedly from between pursed lips as he contemplated the morning's events. The day was just getting started and he had a mountain of trouble to tackle before 7 A.M. Folding his arms before his broad chest he cut a glance toward his mini-bar, his thoughts of that half empty flask of scotch.
"I should've finished that off last night," he murmured regretfully as he padded back toward his bathroom. He needed to get dressed.
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Princess continued to drink in the oceanside's panoramic view as the frothy waves of water curled against the beach's edge, the foam lapping at her toes as she sat on the sand hugging her knees in front of her chest. The sun had risen only moments before. She'd seen the first shafts of light creep into her bedroom and had decided to take advantage of some quiet time while it was still possible by escaping to the beach to meditate. She'd been unable to sleep anyway, unable to think of anything else except what Mark had told her. That her father and his mother were lovers when Mark was a child; and that Anderson knew of Ken Beckham's existence as Colonel Cronus during that time.
She had hoped that by revealing the source of his pain would've provided Mark with some sense of relief. But his admission only seemed to fuel more anguish from him. When approached Princess placed her hands to his face just to comfort him; she never questioned his admission. His tortured blue eyes had softened at her touch; she'd seen the pain dissipate momentarily and he seemed extremely grateful for the contact. He lifted his own trembling hands to cover hers and closed his eyes as if to savor her presence. He started to speak, but stopped himself; his features hardening before her. The change in him was startling and it had hurt to witness it being so close to him. He apologized for even telling her of Anderson's relationship with his mother, almost as if by confiding in her he had weakened; coming up short in front of her. He immediately ushered Princess out of his room and said that he couldn't say anymore. "I need time to sort things out," he mumbled before closing the door in her face. It was as if self reliance was the only way Mark knew of to solve his problems. It bothered her that he didn't feel as if though he could rely on her particularly when he truly needed the support.
After that Princess had spent the majority of her night awake; her thoughts consumed not only of Mark but of her father. Anderson had always been an enigma of sorts to her. He was a wonderful and loving man in private; providing her and Keye with the type of security and guidance they needed growing up. He had adopted them and raised them as his own; loving them as much as any biological father would. But as Galaxy Security Chief he was abrupt, aloof, and very demanding of those who served for the Federation. He rarely tolerated mistakes and would verbalize his disapproval tenfold to those who did. He was especially hard on the team because he had reason be. Anderson established G-Force; he designed their cerebonic implants and had chosen the recipients. His reputation relied upon the accomplishments of the team. Princess often wondered given all of her father's responsibilities had there been any one fortunate enough to crack that tough exterior of his. Someone who could love him despite his magnanimous ability to keep people at arms length. As of last night Mark provided her with a possible answer.
Rather than dwell on it lying in bed any longer, Princess had chosen to rise with the sun. Donned only in her light night shirt, she quietly left the house so she wouldn't disturb Jason, still deep in sleep lying on the small couch in the front room. Mark was still in his bedroom. She walked slowly toward the ocean and sank onto the soft sand preparing herself for transcendental meditation. It was a technique she'd learned during her travels to India a few years ago; a way to make use of the mind's natural tendency to calm down and to experience its conscious state in restful alertness. Taking a cue from Mark, she also needed time to sort things out, the beach at sunrise providing the perfect environment. She didn't realize that someone had been watching her from the moment she'd left the house.
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She probably regrets the very day she brought me here, Mark thought as he continued to watch Princess through intense blue eyes. After his admission of Anderson's affair with his mother who could blame Princess for thinking otherwise. Remembering the numbed shock look on her face filled him with an instant regret. He appreciated that she didn't question what he had confided in her. Princess had come to him offering comfort the way she did best, simply by reaching out to him. And he rewarded her by shutting her out; certain that he'd hurt her feelings again.
That familiar panic began to course its way through Mark once more; threatening to smother him alive while he was alone in his bedroom after Princess had left. Rather than to call for help as he had before he rushed to the bathroom across the hall. Feeling the line of fire course down his spine Mark shed his clothes quickly, turning on the shower full blast to extinguish the heat that had begun to engulf his body. He let the cold water douse his burning skin, took several deep breaths as if he had just resurfaced from underneath a fathom of water, and focused on anything other than his problems. This did the trick apparently and after spending an enormous amount of time in the shower, he recovered and returned to his bedroom.
He hadn't been able to sleep either during the night, and once he saw daybreak, opted to take an early morning walk on the beach. Mark pulled on a pair of cut offs and was just about to open the door when he heard the door adjacent his room creak open and close. He waited a moment before opening his own door a bit, and observed Princess slipping cautiously into the kitchen, leaving via the patio's sliding door. Mark followed and walked quietly on bare feet to the kitchen window to watch. He'd been there for as long as Princess remained outside.
Mark's thoughts of Princess were interrupted by the faint sound of a nearby communicator coming from the small living room behind him. He heard Jason grumble, "What the hell…?" before rolling off of the couch and landing in a disheveled heap onto the hardwood floor. Groggily Jason lifted his left wrist toward his mouth and responded, "G-2 here. Go ahead."
"I want you in my office as soon as possible Condor. You've got a lot of explaining to do," Chief Anderson returned acidly.
Shit! I forgot to call off the MP's! Prin was supposed to get me up hours ago! "Chief…I think I know…what this is about," Jason spoke brokenly as he pulled himself up from the floor to stand. He was slightly disoriented after spending the night on the tiny couch, his muscles still aching from the experience.
"Good; then you won't have to provide me with some bullshit excuse as to why I wasn't informed that Mark's place had been vandalized by Spectran agents. Not to mention your sending of the Federation MP's to stand guard with Tiny overseeing the assignment. Your ass is on shaky ground. The next time I blink, I'd better see you in my office. As for the rest of the team I expect them to be here at the IFPP building in an hour." The signal ended unexpectedly before Jason had time to answer.
"Shit! Shit! Shit!" Jason hurriedly tucked his shirt into his pants while he stepped into his shoes, stomping into them while adjusting his wrinkled clothes. "Wait until I get my hands on Prin! I asked her to wake me up hours ago and she let me sleep! Now the Chief is ready to put my nuts in a sling!" He turned to find Mark peering out of the kitchen window. In a rough edged voice he continued, "Didn't expect to find you awake until the afternoon. What are you looking at?" Jason looked over Mark's shoulder as he buttoned his shirt, his grey eyes falling on the young woman sitting on the sand.
Jason smirked and reached above Mark's head to the right, opened the cupboard and grabbed a glass. "It figures. You plan on adding 'stalker' or 'pervert' to your resume'?" He walked backward in the direction of the bathroom while Mark cut an annoying glance over his shoulder. With the shutting of the bathroom door he returned his focus again to Princess, still sitting motionless on the beach. It took a while before he realized she was meditating, a practice of hers that left him a little perplexed. She seemed to benefit from it, he just wasn't quite sure how. Meditating never made any problem go away.
Mark heard the splash of water and the distinct sound of a throat being gargled before Jason reappeared in the kitchen, shrugging into his jacket. He began to rummage through the kitchen cupboards. "Damn! Can't a guy get a pop-tart first thing in the morning?" He pointed to the stove a few feet away from him. "Tell Princess that white rectangular thing in the middle of the floor that spews fire out of it when it's turned on is called a 'stove'. Remind her that people use it to cook food on. Or in her case, torch the hell out of it." Finding nothing to his satisfaction, Jason slammed the last cupboard shut.
He headed for the front door. "As you may have already guessed, Anderson's on the warpath this morning. I inadvertently forgot to tell him of your place being vandalized by those Spectrans. He wants the rest of you guys at the IFPP building in an hour. I'm trying to mentally prepare myself for the verbal ass-kicking coming my way. Got any suggestions on how to handle him before I set foot into his office?"
Seeing that Princess had risen and began to walk back towards the house, Mark turned and leaned against the edge of the kitchen's counter near the sink. "How good are you at groveling?" he countered seriously. Anderson didn't like to be kept out of the loop, particularly when it was occurring right underneath his nose.
"Fuck!" Jason fumed and left the room, hurrying toward his car. He'd just roared out of the drive as Princess entered the house.
Surprised to find Mark awake, Princess smiled as she slid the door shut behind her. "Hi," she greeted him warmly, pulling her hair up before allowing it to fall behind her and shaking the dark mass about. She then reached the sink and turned on the faucet to wash her hands. "I take it Jase is off to see the Chief?"
Mark took in Princess' morning appearance. Her dark hair was gloriously mussed and wild about her shoulders, her green eyes remarkably bright, and her shapely legs and feet were sprinkled with sand. She was wearing a cotton white night shirt that barely brushed her thighs and given the outline of her body underneath the material, was wearing nothing underneath except a pair of panties. Mark felt the muscles in his stomach contract; the stirrings of arousal in his groin. He merely nodded and turned away from her before he embarrassed himself, suddenly remembering he was only wearing a pair of cut offs. Needing to move, he reached for a pair of glasses from the shelf.
"Yeah, Anderson just buzzed. Apparently he just found out about what happened at my place yesterday. He expects us at the IFPP in an hour." Mark swept a vague glance over Princess, still trying to ignore how desirable she looked this morning. He then walked around her, set the glasses on the kitchen's island counter, and headed for the fridge. "Meditating, huh?" he asked as he rummaged through the fridge and discovered the orange juice toward the back.
Princess eyed Mark as he poured, first for her before handing her a glassful, then for himself. She watched as he drank the contents from his glass in one swallow. His movements seemed purposeful, as if though he needed to keep some distance between them. She sensed it was a residual effect of last night; after confessing his secret to her. Needing to reassure Mark that he could trust her, Princess decided to tread lightly and keep the conversation light.
"It serves its purpose," she spoke before taking a sip. "It allows me to focus and gain some insight. I come away with a whole new perspective." She cut a sideways glance at Mark. "Well most of the time."
Mark poured himself a second glass of juice. "I kind of figured you were thinking about me sitting out there. I've all but been the guest from hell. Sorry for causing you so much trouble Prin." He looked down into the half-filled glass and put it aside, placing his palms flat on the island's center. "You know…maybe I should return to Center Neptune. Seems like I'm more trouble to everyone being out of that oversized fish bowl than in it."
"We've all been in trouble one way or another. This...well, this was bigger than we realized and far more complex." Princess put aside her unfinished juice glass and reached for him, placing one hand over his. "But it didn't have to come to this. We could have seen you through it," she ended somberly.
"The thing that gets me is that everyone seems to think that I should just get over it. 'Your father died a hero' is all that I get from the handful of people who actually knew him. I just couldn't figure out why a man who supposedly loved his wife and kids, decided to cast them aside like a pair of old shoes. Even if his duty played a role, I'd like to think that my mother would've stood by him…and that Matt and I would've understood." Mark then closed his eyes as he began to rock on the base of his hands, Princess remaining by his side. "My father would've been more of a hero to me had he chosen to tell us. He never even gave us a chance. And as for Anderson…," he added, his head moving slightly from side to side, "I don't think I can ever forgive him for it."
It was an uncomfortable admission to hear, but Princess had to allow Mark to say how he felt. She did plan to talk with her father about it but decided against telling Mark.
The ticking of the kitchen clock was the only sound heard against the back drop of the morning ocean's surf. Mark's face was unreadable as he looked ahead, his eyes hollow. Princess massaged at his hand beneath hers as they stood that way in the kitchen for several minutes, emotional support being the only thing she could offer him at the moment. Both of them weighing the silence of an uncertain future ahead.
After a while Mark turned to look at her and placed his free hand over hers. "Prin…" His tone was gentle but felt strangely intimate. "I never really… thanked you for all that you've done for me. You've made what I've been dealing with …tolerable." His dark blue eyes searched hers. "I'm forever in your debt. I doubt that I could've gotten through this without you."
"You don't have to thank me. And you don't have to leave either. I want you to stay," Princess responded honestly. "I'll always be your friend Mark."
Mark nodded; it wasn't what he wanted to hear. Although he knew he should be accepting of it, it bothered him. He then laced his fingers between hers on the table.
"Princess there was a time…before all of this happened…I began to feel that…we were beginning to mean more to each other," his tone was still gentle but had the texture of sandpaper to it. Gravely and sensuous. "More than …just friends."
So there it was. The waiting for Mark to bring it up first had finally come and a collective sigh of relief escaped Princess' lips. If he were ready to talk about their vague past relationship, so was she. "I remember," she spoke quietly. "We were getting close. Very close several months ago."
Mark pressed on, satisfied she wasn't averse to the direction the conversation was going in. His fingers tightened their grip, holding her hand captive. "I find myself wondering sometimes…if things could've been different." He looked at their intertwined hands and gave hers another squeeze. "Wondering if I hadn't distanced myself…from you…would we have had a chance of making it work?"
Princess would've moved mountains to hear those words from Mark months ago. Before all the pain and misunderstandings chiseled a barrier between them. So much had happened since then. And the Mark before her now wasn't the same person he was before.
"I honestly don't know. Somehow we each went in different directions. Things happened that interfered with our relationship. Jason needed support after Luci died and you were caught up in finding the truth about your father. We have nothing to support 'what could have been' Mark. We talked and flirted and talked mostly but that's all it was, right?"
Mark lowered his head after that and Princess searched for a reaction, her eyes moving over his slumped shoulders. "You never gave me any indication you wanted more from me, although…I always hoped that you wanted more." She remembered how he'd retreat from them…from her. Hours would turn into days and days into weeks without a word from him. She always waited and he'd never show. At least when she wanted him to. Adding insult to injury, Mark turned to other women to ease his loneliness. She turned to Jason for companionship.
Mark breathed deeply and stood straight, his hands still linked with Princess'. "You never told me that was what you wanted from me," he almost choked on the accusation. "You were so devoted to Jason at that time that I thought… I couldn't help but feel that something was just beginning to take off between us and that you decided you didn't want it with me." He also remembered seeing Princess with his best friend. The hand holding, the shared secretive looks, the brief kisses of affection; all of which he desired to share with her. The jealousy he'd felt had turned to resentment. Rather than watch what he thought was an intimate relationship growing between Princess and Jason; Mark had chosen to make himself scarce. He shook his head as his eyes roamed from the top of Princess' dark head to her eyes, consumed with painful memories. "I swear I never meant for things to turn out the way it did," Mark spoke with soft intensity.
Suddenly feeling self conscious, Princess eased her hand out of Mark's and folded her arms in front of her. For the first time that morning she realized she had little on other than a nightshirt. Her skin was tingling simply by being near him. Princess then found herself staring at Mark's naked chest. He was leaner than before but still sleek and sinewy. All satin smooth and solid muscle. Her eyes traveled from his chest, past his washboard lean stomach, to the line of dark hair descending from his abdomen disappearing beneath the denim cutoffs. She had already seen him in the buff but this time was different. The young man standing before her now was the very picture of blatant masculinity. She blinked a few times and backed away as her mind began to race with thoughts of sliding her hands beneath his waistband. "Maybe this wasn't such a good idea," she whispered and started to walk past him.
Mark's first reaction was instinctual. He wanted to make the pain disappear; to make the hurt go away. "Wait," he murmured softly. He stopped Princess from passing and pulled her slowly towards him. Tenderly Mark cupped her face between his firm hands and began to lower his mouth to her trembling lips, his eyes never leaving hers. The first contact was so soft and so fleeting that Princess barely believed he did it. An experimental brush of his mouth against hers, the tip of his tongue grazing her bottom lip in a gentle caress. Mark suddenly alternated his movements, lazily sipping and suckling at the taste of Princess from her top lip to her tongue; savoring that honey and peaches sweetness he'd remembered from their previous encounter.
Mark had only meant for the kiss to be brief, just to comfort her. But once he touched her it turned into something so much more. The yearning he'd felt for Princess overcame him as he closed his eyes and his tongue began to plunder the warm wetness of her mouth. His hands eased to her soft throat as he deepened the kiss, stroking the exposed skin above the lace trim of her nightshirt.
Princess felt herself free falling from the pleasure of Mark's touch. Her arms, of their own volition, tentatively encircled Mark's shoulders as she gave in to the longing to feel him close. Her body moved toward his as is though she'd been waiting for the feel of his hands on her all along. Her tongue fenced with Mark's as the kiss became hungrier; long, slow, and voraciously greedy. Both of them moaning with want for the other.
Mark's hands had migrated from Princess' throat to her breasts, cupping their weight in his palms. Princess tore her mouth from Mark's upon feeling his thumbs massage their peaks into rigidness; the nightshirt a flimsy barrier from his seeking hands. Her neck curled back, catching her breath in her throat at the sensation of his caressing fingers and Mark took advantage; gliding his open mouth against Princess' throat, his tongue feathering her skin as her arms tightened around his shoulders. She heard him say her name over and over again in that sensuous sandpaper-edged voice of his; as if weaving some magic spell around her.
Mark didn't expect to illicit this sort of response from Princess but he welcomed it. This was how he wanted to touch her from the moment she'd grown from girl to woman. She was as he imagined her to be; soft, silken, and giving. His body was tied in knots; his need for her bordering on incendiary. When Princess arched her body against him, his hands skimmed fluidly from her breasts to caress her thighs. The move allowed him access to slide his hands underneath her thin nightshirt. He cupped the roundness of her bottom to pull her fully against him to feel his arousal, hard and demanding between them. Princess, her fingers now clutching fistfuls of auburn hair, writhed against Mark, the friction so explicit that he sought her mouth to keep from shouting out loud.
Mark managed to maneuver them toward the fridge, needing something to support them as he pressed his body into hers; wanting Princess to understand the sexual havoc she was putting him through as he began to move his hips rhythmically against hers. One hand began to browse from the silken skin of her bare back towards her abdomen, tracing the waistband of Princess' bikini panties before dipping his palm beneath the silk material. He began a tantalizing slide toward her center. His palm nestled upon the lush sable curls situated at the junction of her thighs, as his fingers sought the secrets within the soft folds. Princess' body jerked at the unfamiliar contact and a small cry burst from her as she struggled against Mark's seeking hands, pushing at his chest with her fists. Images of Valeria and numerous other women she'd seen him leaving Jill's Place with taunted her. Who's to say Mark wouldn't categorize their relationship any differently?
Mark tore his mouth and hands away to look at Princess as he fought to catch his breath. Is Princess a virgin? He asked himself as his eyes sought hers for confirmation. Staring back at him now were a set of deep, incandescent sea green pools-lovely and trusting with a certain amount of innocence and fear in their depths. For several moments all he could do was drown in them before he grasped her shoulders and leaned his forehead against hers. He regretfully eased away from her. Mark did what he had to do.
Princess was grateful for the reprieve. She wasn't as ready as she thought. As much as she cared for Mark, he never said the one thing that would've made all the difference. Her body was still throbbing in the aftermath of what occurred between them and she fought to regain her composure. She adjusted her nightshirt and mumbled weakly, "Thank you," as Mark walked around the kitchen's island. They both needed the distance
"Why didn't you tell me that you've never been with anyone before?" Mark asked with an edge to his voice. He was fighting that rising need to be satisfied, his body taut from being denied.
Princess rubbed at her arms, trying to retain some of the warmth generated between them. "Does it matter?" she asked, determined not to let him see how embarrassed she was by his probing.
"To me it does," he answered through gritted teeth. "Maybe I would've held back. Hell… maybe I wouldn't have started anything at all. But you got caught up in it just like I did. I've just…never been with someone who never did." Mark told himself he could've pushed Princess if he wanted to, made her succumb to the heady pleasure of sex if he chose. It's not like he hasn't done so before; each time with a handful of forgettable women. But he cared too damned much about Princess to treat her that way. He hated being taunted with something he couldn't have.
"Sorry if you think I'm a tease. Some old, unresolved feelings were expressed I'm sure and I can admit getting more than carried away. But it's over Mark. I won't be used as a means for you to escape from reality while you're here with me," Princess spoke hoarsely. She wanted him to deny it; to say that he still cared. Please give me something other than this moment to show me that I matter to you. Not just because I couldn't go through with it.
Mark remained still as he watched her. He wanted so much more and had nothing to give her. He was now dealing with the consequences of his past mistakes, and had inadvertently involved her. To admit feeling anything other than friendship would be disastrous for them both. Love wasn't a word he expressed freely any more; not after losing those who were closest to him.
Mark tapped at his left thigh with his hand, the limb from which he wore the sensor detecting his movements. This served as a reminder. He didn't deserve her. Pretending indifference, Mark merely shrugged, "You're right. What's done is done. There can never be anything between us. I promise not to lay a hand on you ever again." Why did that sound like a lie?
Princess interpreted Mark's words as astonishingly cool and nonchalant. He seemed so matter of fact about it; as if being with her would've been no different than his other conquests. She was so hurt and angered at his response that she wanted to scream and probably would've if it weren't for her communicator's priority alert signal going off.
She raised her left wrist and spoke thickly, "G-3 here."
It was her father, Chief Anderson. "There have been some new developments that I've recently been made aware of. I want you and G-1 in this office immediately." The command had been curt, the sign off just as abrupt.
It didn't sound good.
Their eyes met and held.
Neither spoke. Neither had to.
They needed to leave.
Thanks for reading!