Okay guys. This is a pretty heavy chapter. Rather intense and character- driven. I'll also add that it's the most difficult entry I've written so far, as it was bloody hard to get the mood and emotions right. Many, many hours went into it but I'm pretty happy with how it turned out.
Chapter Six
"Coffee. I need coffee," Wheeler muttered, wandering towards the kitchen and beckoning for Linka to follow. She readily complied, stepping over several floor cushions, before settling herself on a stool tucked away beneath the kitchen island bench.
She sat with her chin resting in her hands; her elbows perched on the bench top. The basketball game on the television had now finished, replaced with the unmistakable theme music from a Seinfeld rerun. Linka sighed, simply content to observe the American bustling around on the other side of the bench space. He filled the kettle and grabbed two mugs from a top cabinet, throwing curious glances in her direction every now and then.
"Still have two sugars?" he asked, meeting her eyes for a moment. She smiled and nodded in response.
"Plugged your phone in yet, Yankee?" she asked, half teasing as Wheeler passed her the steaming mug. He clicked his fingers, as if remembering his mother's request, before disappearing into a room and emerging with the device in hand.
"Bloody woman," he complained, plugging the phone into a USB cable next to the kettle. "She's not gonna' let me live that one down for a while."
Linka grinned, taking a sip of her coffee as the American placed the remaining stool on the other side of the island bench, positioning himself opposite her.
He yawned, and Linka briefly met his eyes again, a flash of guilt passing through her.
"I'm sorry to surprise you like this, Wheeler," she said softly. "I hope I haven't interrupted any plans."
He shrugged, his expression nonchalant. "Nah, just dinner and a few beers with the guys from work. We were just wrapping things up, anyway."
"Okay," she replied, slightly unconvinced but choosing to let it slide.
"How's the superhero life going?"
Linka chuckled, taking another sip of her coffee. "It is okay. Your replacement seems to be fitting in quite well. Ma-Ti's replacement is very quiet, I think the ring tends to drain him."
"Yeah, Kwame mentioned that," Wheeler replied, not noticing the flash of disappointment on Linka's face. It was confirmation that Wheeler had indeed been in contact with Kwame... and not with her, despite her best efforts.
She exhaled, staring fixedly into her coffee mug. "It is very different now. It is a different dynamic. More serious."
The American raised his eyebrows, surprised by the confession. "What, no hot-tempered smart-arse running around, pissin' off the eco-villains?"
She grinned, shaking her head. "Nyet, Amir is very… uh, I think the expression is by the book?"
"Uh huh," he said, a note of sarcasm touching his voice. "I'm sure that goes down real well with Plunder and his cronies."
Linka nodded, recalling a job in Norway just after Wheeler had given up his ring. It was here that the fire bearer's replacement had experienced his first run-in with Plunder and Argos Bleak.
She told him about Amir, who had confronted the polluters, pointed his ring at them and proceeded to list the seven local laws they were in the process of breaking. In great detail. By the fourth one, Bleak threw his hands in the air and bellowed, "For God's sake, bring back the other damn fire-bug!"
The American snorted, picturing the scene in his head. "Yeah, I was definitely a 'shoot first, ask questions later' kind of guy," he lamented. He suddenly sat upright, snapping his fingers again. "Hey, I saw Blight a few months ago."
"What? Where?"
He took another sip of his coffee, grimacing as he discovered it had cooled somewhat.
"Boring-ass convention in Dallas that I was sent to in August. Couldn't miss her in her ugly pink suit. She was sitting towards the back of the auditorium. Spent most of her time on her damn laptop."
"Did you speak to her?" Linka asked, curiosity getting the better of her.
"Noooooo. No. Gaia warned me to stay under the radar after I left." He looked down at his right hand, flexing his index finger. "Not like I have my lil' insurance policy any more, in case things go bad."
Linka nodded, knowing that refraining from giving Barbara Blight a hard time would have been rather difficult for the American.
"So you just walked away?"
"Course not. I waited until the lunch buffet was served. Tipped my coffee inside her laptop bag when she wasn't looking. Shoulda' seen the sparks flying."
Linka snickered into her palm. She shook her head, her shoulders still shaking with laughter. "Blight would not have been impressed."
"Nah. Worth it though. MAL wouldn't have known what hit him,"" he added with his characteristic cheeky grin, a mischievous twinkle present when he met her eyes.
There it is. Boom.
Linka hitched her breath, observing him now with such powerful waves of affection and longing.
God, I have missed you, Yankee.
They sat in silence for a few moments, a silence that was not altogether uncomfortable, but still spoke volumes as to the changed dynamic of their relationship. She concentrated on her hands as she felt his gaze focus on her face again, her face growing hotter with each passing second.
"Why are you here, Lin?" The question was phrased gently, but his blue eyes held such intensity that she couldn't look away.
She knew it was coming, had never doubted it. In all honesty, her thoughts quickly turned to deflecting the question, or changing the subject. But in all her years of closing her mind and heart to him, that course of action had never served her well.
"Just needed to see a friendly face," she replied softly, pulling her beanie down further, but now avoiding his steadfast gaze.
He sighed, aware that she was holding back on him. "Grant's not a friendly enough face for you these days, huh?"
She jolted at the mere mention of Grant's name, staring at Wheeler's unreadable expression. Wheeler shrugged in response.
"What makes you say that?" she asked breathlessly, wondering if (and how) Wheeler could possibly be aware of the break-up before anyone else.
"It's 2am on Christmas Day, babe. You're not with him. It was the only explanation I could come up with."
"Oh," she said, realizing the logical reasoning behind his assumption. "Wheeler?"
"Mmm?"
"Why did you not stay in contact with me?" Her mouth was dry as she finally plucked up the courage to ask the question that had been on her mind for so very long. Her hands were clutched tightly in her lap as she watched him hop off the stool, placing their coffee cups in the sink.
He folded his arms defensively, leaning against the refrigerator and regarded her with an unflinching look.
"You know I'm crap at that sort of stuff," he said finally after some thought. "I can barely ring my own mother back."
Linka shook her head, unwilling to accept his explanation. "Nyet. I know you spoke to Kwame regularly. I thought we were friends too?"
"We were. We are."
"Then what happened, Wheeler?" Linka was starting to lose the tight reign she had held over her self-control, her voice now starting to crack with emotion. "You refused to return my calls, my emails? Nothing!"
"What the hell was I supposed to say, Linka?" he hissed, his own fiery temper starting to get the better of him. "Like yeah, glad things are going so well with Grant? Did you expect me to listen to you gush about expensive holidays and fancy dinners with your boyfriend, even when I couldn't stand the dickhead?"
"Any man I dated would never have met your approval," she replied hotly, glaring at him defiantly.
"Any other guy would have been an improvement on that spoilt brat, Linka," he said loudly, a quiet fury emanating from his body. "It was pretty obvious you were only ever a trophy to him."
She recoiled, the words stinging her. His comment hit particularly hard due to the knowledge that Wheeler had obviously grasped the truth of her relationship with Grant a lot sooner that she had. Her temper flared and she stood, knocking the stool sideways in her haste.
"Regardless of how you felt about him Yankee, I still do not understand…"
"Yeah, well welcome to my world, Linka! I spent seven years trying to understand your decision-making processes and I'm still as clueless as the day I first fucking met you!"
"What is that supposed to mean?" she replied hotly, her shoulders tense as she glared at him across the kitchen counter.
"It means I can't help but feel I was always gonna' be second best with you," he shouted. Wheeler threw his hands in the air, crossing the room in a bid to escape the tension.
Linka turned and followed him regardless, grabbing his arm in an effort to talk to him, to plead, to explain.
"It was never like that," she began, flinching as he turned to face her; anger and bitterness punctuating the tense atmosphere.
"What, so you didn't dangle me along for all that time? Seven years! I adored you Linka, but you treated me like a puppet on a goddamn string sometimes."
She felt her face flush with anger, blood now roaring in her ears as she stared him down. "A puppet on a string? You must have had a lot of strings, Yankee. There was never any shortage of girls for you to flirt with!"
She was shouting now, her eyes blazing and her hair falling across her face from beneath her beanie. She impatiently tucked the loose strands behind her ears, glaring at his tense form towering over her.
"Well maybe if the girl I was actually interested in had given me a clearer indication, I would have happily toned it down!" he shouted back, crossing his arms across his chest defiantly. He exhaled loudly, silently willing himself to calm down.
He uncrossed his arms finally, placing his hands in his pockets. He looked down at her, his shoulders now slumped. "Sometimes you'd lead me to believe that there might be something there, and then BAM! The walls would go up and we'd be straight back to square one."
She shook her head vigorously, trying to shake off the sinking feeling that no matter how harsh his words were, that she ultimately deserved his wrath.
He looked down, kicking the carpet with his heel in frustration. "I was always gonna' be your spare tyre, Linka. Easily discarded when something better came along. "
"Nyet," she sobbed. "That was never my intention, Wh…"
She tried to look away, to escape Wheeler's penetrating stare but he gripped her chin gently, forcing her to look at him. The anger had dissipated somewhat, replaced by a look of hurt and resignation. She wasn't sure which was worse.
"Do you understand now why I didn't keep in contact with you?" he asked, his blue eyes searching hers for something, perhaps validation. "I wasn't gonna' sit by and watch you play happy families, while continuing to be your verbal punching bag. Can't have it both ways, Linka."
She shuddered, wiping her eyes with the back of her sleeves.
He sighed, dropping his hand from her chin, before resting them on her shoulders. He squeezed them gently.
"Babe, I had no choice. I had to let you go."
He dropped wearily onto the lounge, the light from the TV illuminating his face as he stared ahead at the flickering screen. Linka stood for several moments, stunned, before sitting beside him, curling her legs up underneath her body.
They sat in an exhausted silence, broken only by Wheeler repositioning himself on the lounge, his feet on the coffee table and his head resting on the cushions, tilted to the right and watching her closely.
Linka leant forward, resting her head in her hands. She glanced over at him through her threaded fingers, aware that he was still closely scrutinizing her. She swallowed, steeling herself.
"I broke up with Grant a month ago."
She watched as Wheeler processed the information, his mouth dropping open in genuine surprise.
"Huh?" He scratched his head, before running his hand over his face tiredly. It had been a long, emotional night.
"Took me a little longer than you to work out that he was a spoilt brat," she murmured, borrowing Wheeler's choice phrase from earlier.
He paused, not quite knowing what to say. "What happened? Wait," he said, sounding confused. "I saw you on TV with his family last week, and Kwame said…"
Linka nodded. "Da, I agreed to honor my commitments with his family until the election," she said. "I think that maybe I was too generous," she added drily.
"Is that where you were tonight?" Wheeler asked, the pieces of the puzzle starting to fit into place.
Linka nodded again, bringing her knees up to her chest and wrapping her arms around them.
"Da. Another silly charity benefit that I promised to attend. I've been spending the last four weeks smiling for the cameras and hiding in bathrooms to avoid him."
"His family know you guys had split?"
"Nyet. His father flew us here tonight as a surprise afterwards. Romantic week away over Christmas." She laughed bitterly, the event and flight to New York now a distant memory. "I certainly had no intention of staying with him once here."
"I take it no one else knows?" he asked.
"Nyet. No-one knows we are no longer together, not even Gi." Linka tightened her grip around her knees, closing her eyes. "Just you," she whispered, almost as an afterthought.
Linka turned her head to the side, her eyelids fluttering as she concentrated on the rhythmic sound of her own breathing.
So tired.
She felt movement beside her and she blinked, watching the American lean forward and inspect the grey beanie perched precariously on her head. She knew immediately that her position on the lounge had probably meant that her wound was now partly or fully visible against her pale skin.
"What is that, Lin?" he asked, alarmed as he carefully removed the knitted material and cast it aside. He inspected the cut as Linka steeled herself against the pleasant warmth of his body heat enveloping her. "Please tell me that's from a mission."
His mouth was a tight line and she knew then that he had already assumed the answer.
She blinked, disappointed as he moved away. Linka suddenly longed for him to wrap his arms around her, for him to whisper that everything was going to be all right. She found herself craving his closeness, his confidence and above all, his kindness.
But she also knew that after the words spoken tonight, after her actions over the course of their complicated relationship that she had no right to ask anything of him at all.
"What did he do to you?" he asked, his voice low but dangerous.
She didn't deflect his question this time. "He threw me into a door," she replied tiredly. She changed positions, once again curling her feet underneath her and facing Wheeler, who looked ready to punch something. He stared, fists clenching and unclenching as he processed this information.
"Son of a bitch," he exploded, rising to his feet again and pacing the room, his agitation threatening to boil over. I'm gonna' friggin' kill him…"
"Calm down, Yankee," Linka pleaded, her palms outstretched in an effort to placate him. Her heart was pounding in her chest again now, watching the clearly agitated American.
"Don't tell me to calm down," he retorted. "You know what pisses me off the most about this?"
She shook her head miserably, looking up at him with red-tinged eyes.
"I'm gonna' put aside the fact that he gets high on beating up women. It's a pathetic trait, but with my own family background, nothing surprises me anymore, Linka."
"What I've never been able to get my goddamn head around is the fact that you're smart. Crazy smart," he added, tapping his head, before dropping to his knees to crouch on the floor in front of her. He sat on the backs of his heels, regarding her with unflinching eyes.
"You can solve complex equations, hack government firewalls, you speak three languages, you repair electrical circuits with your eyes closed." He bent over, gently wiping away a tear tracking its way down her cheek. She instinctively leaned in, closing her eyes against the intimate gesture.
"Da," she sniffed, her voice husky. She knew where this was heading.
"What I still can't get my head around is the fact that you didn't see through it. Through him and all his bullshit. I mean, he told us he was vice president of one of his father's companies when he was a friggin' clerical assistant."
She nodded. "I did see through it, Wheeler. More quickly then you will ever know." She gazed down at him solemnly, watching from the lounge as he repositioned himself until he was sitting on the carpet beside her feet.
He draped his left arm over the top of her knees, using his other hand to fiddle with the seam of the jeans she was wearing. She felt his ministrations through the thick denim and she sighed, finding the motion soothing.
"There's this little voice in the back of my head, Lin. I'll be honest. It's warning me that even right now, I'm gonna be good enough to sweep in and pick up the pieces, but thrown aside when…"
"You were never second best, moya lyubov," she whispered, running her fingers through his hair tenderly as he tiredly rested his cheek on her left thigh. "You were always the one."
His face remained impassive, but she leaned forward nonetheless, capturing his restless hand and holding it within hers. She lowered her face, her lips mere inches from his ear. "I never understood, but I do now and after all this time I owe you an explanation, Yankee," she breathed.
He shifted slightly, but remained still again as her fingers continued their exploration of his hair, reaching around to stroke the skin at the nape of his neck. "It was always you. Even when I was pushing you away, or arguing with you, or fighting with you. Even when I was with him, it was always you in my heart. I just could not admit it to myself and I refused to act upon it."
"Why?" His response was barely audible, muffled against her clothing.
"My father was killed when I was 10. My mama died within a year. Then Boris. My babushka passed away only recently. Mishka has moved on, he has a wife and a family now."
Linka was trembling now, hot tears falling onto the American's skin. She wiped her eyes, cursing this newfound frailty that had besieged her since the American's departure from the Planeteers.
He raised himself briefly, before lifting her off the lounge and into his lap on the floor. He settled his arms around her and she relaxed into his embrace, feeling his nose pressed tightly against her cheek.
"When you lose people you love, you lose a small piece of yourself. Every time. And then you came into my quiet, little life," she gasped, smiling against his cheek at the memory.
"For the first time, I started to see the joy in life again…. and I became terrified of losing it." He didn't respond but she knew he was listening, taking everything in. She pressed on regardless.
"I see now that the choices I made were for the wrong reasons. I know that now. I chose Grant because he wasn't you, moya lyubov. I know this probably doesn't make any sense."
"Nope," he replied softly, his breath hot against the delicate skin of her throat. She felt him press his face further against her, the stubble on his face tickling a sensitive spot and causing her to squirm in his arms. She inhaled deeply, immersing herself in his familiar scent as she momentarily lost her train of thought.
"I chose Grant because when he looked at me, my legs did not turn to jelly, Yankee. I chose him because when he touched me, my heart did not leap out of my body."
Linka was losing her composure now, struggling to get the words out. Her voice cracked once again as she dropped her head back against the lounge cushions they were leaning against, shuddering as his lips reached the hollow at the base of her throat.
The blonde whimpered, grasping his head in her hands and holding him there, her fingers clutching wildly at his hair. Her hands moved to tenderly cup his face, her thumbs exploring the texture of his facial hair as she rose to meet his intense gaze.
He hooked his arm around the curve of Linka's waist, turning and pulling her forwards until she was settled against his chest, her knees resting either side of Wheeler's hips. Linka's arms snaked around his neck and she held him close, comforted by the presence of his hand, which had deftly passed under the fabric of her shirt and was now pressed warm against the small of her back.
She gave him a wan smile, nuzzling his nose gently with her own. "I chose him because when he complimented me, or flirted with me, or smiled at me, my heart did not flutter... not like it did with you."
"I chose Grant because when things were finished with him, I could walk away while still… while still maintaining a sense of myself. I would feel nothing, lose nothing."
Linka tenderly stroked his cheek again; aware of just how much she had missed him. Her thumb traced over the contour of his bottom lip, the air heavy with mutual affection and desire.
"I'm so sorry, Jacob. I was so caught up in losing that final piece… and in the end, I lost you anyway," she sighed, parting her lips as he leaned forwards, pressing his mouth firmly against her own.
Her body relaxed into it immediately, and Wheeler's arm tightened around her in return, pulling her as close as their bodies would allow. His other hand reached up to gently caress her face.
They soon broke apart, breathing heavily as they regained their composure. He pulled back for a moment, observing her flushed cheeks, the dark circles under her red eyes and the angry wound standing out on her forehead.
"C'mon," he said, disentangling himself from her. He stood up, holding out his hand to her. After a moment she took it, and he hauled her upwards.
She groaned, her limbs aching as he slipped an arm around her waist. He led her out of the lounge room, past the kitchen and into what she suspected was his bedroom.
"Sit down, honey," he said gently, before helping her to remove her boots and jeans. Wheeler dragged the covers open and she quickly slipped under the quilt, her body and mind now demanding rest.
She turned onto her side, the digital clock beside the bed flashing 3:27am. "Thank you," she murmured sleepily, squeezing his hand. Her last memory before the darkness claimed her was feeling Wheeler's lips brushing over her cheek, before he padded away towards the lounge room, spare pillow in hand.
And then she knew no more, surrendering at last into a deep, dreamless sleep.