Author's Note: Happy Thanksgiving! I'm grateful for all of you that have read, followed, favorited, and especially reviewed this story. And I am also grateful that TheSneakyFox has helped beta this story. So thanks! In any case, without further ado, I present the next chapter! Let me know what you think about it!
Chapter 4 – Heartbeat
The smell of musky grass and dirt wafted into John's nose as he gripped the handrail before him to gain a better view of the track. His stomach was filled with delight as he watched the horses speed passed him in a rushed flurry. The announcer's voice blared on the speakers but it was drowned out by the wild commotion of spectators and vendors alike. John leaned further into the rail, trying to follow the horses as they raced toward the other side of the track. He was glad his mother managed to gain a small holiday with him; she had been so busy with the Navy since they moved to Australia that they rarely spent time with one another anymore. He treasured these small moments.
His eyes continued to follow the current horse in eighth. His mother had asked him to root for a horse and he had chosen that one because its name had made her laugh. John had also liked it because it was an overlooked by the other horses. His eyes continued to watch as Let's Elope raced faster and steadily gained a position away from the clustered pack as she moved up to fifth spot. He cheered loudly, leaning out more in his enthusiasm; he would remain faithful to his horse.
"John, be careful." John turned at his mother's voice, giving her a quick, sheepish nod of obedience before they returned to watching the race. His mother sat on the seat behind him while he was lucky enough to stand near the railing for a better view.
His attention returned to the track when a large, excited wave of gasps and hollers filled the air. He watched as the horse he was rooting for was picking up its pace from its position on the outside and slipped passed the front cluster of horses as it drew nearer to the leader.
"Go!" John urged the horse to win with a shout. Frantic anticipation filled him as he watched Let's Elope speed pass the top three leaders and gain the lead. "Go, go, go!" He continued to yell as the mare continued to stretch the distance behind her. The fluttering sensation in his gut continued to grow as he realized that his chosen horse was about to win. He had been worried at first, seeing that she had started in the back, but he quickly pushed it aside when he saw how determined and diligent she was to remain in the race. His smile grew wider as she passed the finish line in a blur, eliciting a roar from the crowd, jarring John's eardrums; he had never won anything before. With a happy heart, he hurried back to his mother to tell her the good news.
Upon his arrival, he found his mother speaking with a nervous Petty Officer. He instantly noted her stern frown.
"Mom?" he questioned as he noticed the scarred man next to the officer.
"John, it looks like I need to make a call to the base." He was secretly glad that she made no attempt to hide her displeasure about the news; a grin nearly formed on John's face at the Petty Officer's subtle abashment. "Petty Officer Sachs and Mr. Massani will keep you company until I get back, okay?" She knelt before him. "Be good for me, John. I promise after this, we'll have the rest of the day together, all right?"
"Yes, Mom," John replied before getting a kiss on his cheek. He felt his face grow bright red from embarrassment. He couldn't believe she did that! Especially in front of people. "Mom!" John whined and quickly tried to rid himself of the kiss; he hated getting kisses!
"You'll live, kiddo." She winked at him as she stood. Her steely green eyes casted over to the Petty Officer. "Keep him safe." John nearly rolled his eyes at the seriousness in her mother's voice; she was always so over-protective. But he had to admit she was scary sometimes – and apparently Petty Officer Sachs thought so too by the sudden pale complexion he now wore.
"Yes! Yes, Ma'am! Of course, Ma'am," he spluttered. "He'll be safe! I'll won't—"
"Easy, lad, don't get your knickers in a twist." A gravelly voice reverberated behind John, causing him to flinch as he remembered the other man; he had been too focused on the Petty Officer. "She's just messing with you – not really."
"Massani, make sure that he behaves." John peeked over to the Petty Officer, not sure if his mother was referring to him or the officer.
"You, John." A thin smile appeared on his mother's lips. "No wandering." She playfully warned before heading off into the depths of the stadium. John pouted; he did not wander around…much.
"Come on, squirt." The scarred-eyed-man – Massani – patted John on the shoulder, jostling him a bit as they began to move. John immediately recalled seeing him on base once with Mr. Lawson and wondered what he was doing here. "I think they've gotten most of the horses back in their stalls. You wanna look at them?"
"You mean I can see Let's Elope?" John's mood insistently lifted at the prospect – eyes wide and mouth shaped in a broadening grin.
"Sure thing, 'course we gotta make sure we're not in the way of the handlers as they bring her in." Massani let loose a smile that radiated friendliness and John decided that he liked him.
"Wait…Sir…we…can't...Commander Shepard is not goin—sir!" John wanted to laugh at how the seaman was clamoring behind them as they headed toward the stables; he must be really scared of his mom.
"Bah, she told us to watch the kid, not bore him to death! Besides, they were both gonna get a tour later, anyways." Massani continued to steer them passed the mass of people and toward the stables. John's senses were overloaded with the sheer amount of people and activities that flickered about him; men and women alike rushing to the ticket booths to claim their winnings; vendors scrambling to sell the last of their merchandise; reporters bustling about on the track as they interviewed and pictured the top three winners.
It wasn't long until they reached the stables. John wrinkled his nose briefly to get over the wafting smell of horses and manure; the sharp smell was soon forgotten as excitement took over as John viewed the many horses that were being led into their respective stalls.
"Mr. Massani, I don't advise that we go closer; Commander Shepard was adamant about keeping the boy safe…and well, what if they kick or something?"
John rolled his eyes along with Massani. That guy worried way too much.
"Ignore him, kid. He's been stuck in the office for too long. Office lights fried his brain." Massani winked at John. "They're horses, Sachs, not some crazed giant bug-eyed creatures that shoot laser beams from their eyes."
John blinked, trying to process the image that Mr. Massani placed in his head. That would be creepy, but strangely fun to face if he was some sort of superhero. He glanced askance to Petty Officer Sachs and could instantly tell that the officer didn't like the idea. Mr. Massani was right – this guy was boring.
"Mr. Massani." Petty Officer Sachs took a deep breath, a gesture John recognized as an attempt to maintain his composure. "This is serious!"
"Don't be a pussy."
"I am an officer of the Navy! Commander Shepard is my commanding officer and if she says to—"
"A damn pussy, that's what!"
John's eyes widened at the language; his mom had specifically told him not to use that type of language and he hoped – for Mr. Massani's safety – that his mom never found out about Mr. Massani's language.
"Mr. Massani, you are missing—"
"Freakin' boy scout. You remind me of the time I was—"
"No! No more stories!" Petty Officer Sachs tried to hold up his hands in protest, but they were ignored as Mr. Massani began some story or another. John quickly had lost interest in the two men, for his eyes were focused on a horse that was stationed in the far end stall. Glancing back once, John wandered off to the horse, curious and excited to view the beast up close.
Ignoring the bickering behind him, John snuck off. Nearing the end stall, he spotted a beautiful black horse further inside the stables. Making a quick decision, he wandered out of his chaperones' sights until he was in front of a rather large stall with an even larger horse inside. He had never seen one up close before. The horse snorted softly, enticing John to step up closer, his height tiny compared to the large wooden gate. He spotted a small piece of wood protruding near the gate's bottom hinges and decided to use it as an easy lift for a more proper viewing of the horse.
"What the hell are you doing?" A nasally voiced startled John, making him grip the wooden plank before him else risk falling back. "You're not supposed to be here."
Loosening his grip, John jumped back down, bummed out that he wasn't able to see the horse properly. He turned and couldn't help but glare at the older boy that had appeared. He remained silent, unable to shake the uneasy feeling he got from looking at the taller boy.
"What's your problem, kid?" John tensed as he noticed how the scrappy-looking brunette took a threatening step forward. "I asked you a question."
"I'm just looking," John replied, feeling less confident than he hoped he was appearing; he didn't like bullies.
"You're not supposed to be here – scram." Another step brought them closer.
"Mr. Massani said I can be here."
"Ooh, so we got ourselves a spoiled rich brat." The bully sneered out, giving John an unsettling feeling that was throwing warning bells in his head. He had no idea what this older boy's problem was with him, but it looked like he wanted to fight.
"I'm not. I just want to look at the horses." John watched his opponent carefully, trying to keep his voice even so he wouldn't get hit; John knew he was much smaller than him – he was actually smaller than a lot of the other kids his age.
"Whatever, I know your type – think you rule the world and all that; Mr. High and Mighty." Another step closer. "These aren't pretty little things you can just look at because you think you deserve it; they're not some pet that you can have paraded around. Now, scram." He now hovered above John's head, making him feel incredibly nervous, but a stubborn part of him stood his ground. Who was this bully to judge him like that? He didn't know anything about him. He didn't know anything at all. He may be small, but his Dad had taught him how to use his fists.
"Mr. Massani said I can look at them," he repeated with as much determination he could manage.
"Damn, rich kid." His hands came up too quickly before John could register it. John grunted as he felt the pain throb into his back. The horse behind him neighed uncomfortably as John realized that he had been pushed hard into the horse's stall.
"Get out of here." The nasally snarled out.
"Niket." A firm, but steady – if a bit heavenly – voice rang in John's ears as he slowly regained his footing.
"Miri!" The boy – Niket – backed away from him; John spotted a small twinge of fear on his surprised face as they both turned to see Miranda glaring. John gulped, understanding the fear that Niket suddenly had.
"What are you doing?"
"I, uh, well, just…" Niket let loose a nervous chuckle as John looked on, trying to figure out not only why the boy disliked him, but why his heart seemed to feel smooshed and hot all at once. "…I thought I should introduce myself to Kai Lang and…"
Miranda's lips twitched unhappily. "Does he look like a Kai Lang to you, Niket?"
"What?" Niket's eyes darted over to John, making him shift uncomfortably when Miranda's eyes landed on him as well. A lengthy pause surrounded them, and John offhandedly wondered where Mr. Massani and Petty Officer Sachs were. "You mean…that's not the spoiled rich twat that you were supposed…" He trailed off when Miranda developed a full-fledged frown. "…oh…"
"You owe John an apology." Miranda leaned to one side and folded her arms, staring at Niket expectedly.
"Ah…um…" Niket gave John an apologetic smile. "Sorry…I thought you were someone else." He mumbled as he turned away in embarrassment.
John blinked, unsure how to process everything; it all happened rather quickly. "It's okay." He mumbled back.
"Right…yeah."
"Niket, go tend to Father's horse, please." Miranda glanced at her strange friend before settling her eyes back on John. A tingle vibrated along his spine.
"Right," he repeated before hastening away and allowing John to exhale a breath. He hadn't realized he was so tense.
"I'm sorry about Niket." Miranda took a confident step toward him. "He's actually very kind, if a bit over-protective."
Stupid too. John had thought, but refrained from sharing. How could that boy think he was some Asian kid? "It's okay." He supplied instead, trying to figure out why he felt so anxious and nervous around Miranda. True, it had only been a year since they last saw one another at that donut shop, but he didn't think he would be so nervous in seeing her again.
"No, it's not. Niket knows better and he shouldn't have done that."
"Mmm." John shrugged, trying to remain neutral since Niket seemed to be a close friend to Miranda.
"Did you want to see him?" Miranda nodded over to the horse in the stall.
John nodded his head and Miranda graced him with an overwhelming smile. "He loves visitors, the vain creature he is," she remarked playfully before clucking her tongue. The horse made a shrilling snort before hefting his large head over the stall's gate. "He is one of my favorites here; too bad he didn't win." Miranda sighed as she gently petted the horse's nose. The sight caused John to smile as he went on his toes to gently pet the horse too.
"Maybe next time?" John attempted to comfort.
"Maybe." Miranda repeated as her gaze settled on the horse before her.
The two stood comfortably together as they enjoyed the presence of the large black stallion. John's heart had calmed since Miranda had first appeared, but the warmth in his chest and belly was ever prominent as he continued to sneak glances over at her.
"Why is he your favorite?" John tentatively asked, afraid of breaking the quiet serenity they had created. He noticed Miranda furrow her brow for brief moment, as if deciding something.
"My mother bred his sire, before selling him off," she muttered before concentrating more on the stallion.
John tilted his head curiously, wondering what she meant by sire, before noticing that familiar pained glint in her eyes. He glanced down at his feet, recalling those first few weeks when he lost his dad. The pain wasn't as noticeable anymore, but it was still there – a constant throb in his heart.
"Does it ever get better?" John found himself asking as his other hand lightly touched his chest. He froze, fearing that he had overstepped his boundaries.
A deadly silence stretched for what seemed like eons to John. He dared not look at Miranda for fear of offending her, so continued to absently stroke the stallion as he stared at his shoes.
"Some days."
John's head snapped up too quickly, mildly twisting his neck as he did his best to process the quiet whisper. He wasn't expecting that answer. Everyone else had kept telling him the pain would go away in time. His mom said it would get better in time. But, he was still waiting. So it was refreshing for him to hear Miranda's honest response, especially when it reflected his own.
"Yeah…" He managed out as he tried to read Miranda's expression. She was looking at him strangely, enough to make his heartbeat speed up. He had no idea what that look was. They held one another's eyes before a rapid shuffling of feet ended the trance.
"Miri. Your dad wants you." Niket appeared again, breaking up the quiet peace. He eyed John with a suspicious glare before turning back to Miranda. "They're done with the winner's pictures."
"Ah, okay," Miranda replied before turning back to face John again. "It's good to see you again." Miranda added as she backed away from the horse and John. He merely stared, unsure of what to say. Of course it was great to see her again; the comment had just taken him off guard. "You still owe me a donut." She smirked before giving him a wave of goodbye. "You better pay up soon."
"Uh, yeah." John replied. That odd tingle was back and it was growing the more Miranda's eyes turned to him.
"Good. I'll see you soon, then, shall I?"
"Uh huh." John sounded out as Miranda gave a final wave before disappearing. His heartbeat drumming louder than ever.
The chilled night air sent an involuntary shiver through John's body, forcing him to slouch as he continued to steal the heat from the hot chocolate in his hands. He glanced over at Miranda, making sure that she looked warm enough as they sat on his patio's brick railing; she sat against a pillar, bundled up in a sweater and quilt with her legs curled under her as she stared out into the starry night, her own hot chocolate warming her hands.
John adjusted his stance against the railing before taking a welcomed warm sip from his drink. He was glad that they were now back to normal – that awkward tension now gone (along with the donuts) – and were now simply enjoying one another's company. Although, John couldn't shake the feeling that he had missed some grand or opportune moment. He scrunched up his face, reflecting about their earlier scuffle. One particular detail kept creeping to the forefront of his mind: Miranda's undiscernible expression. Of all the years he had known her, he had never seen that look before, but it had sent a rush of heat throughout his whole body that made the hot chocolate seem comparably cold. The face she made looked very similar to her usual glances, but more…intense. Could it be that she felt something deeper for him? A cold draft tinkled his senses. John mentally shook his head. Impossible. Miranda didn't feel that way toward him. How could she? She had made it unknowingly clear all those years ago. Besides, Miranda was getting married; she loved Jacob.
John snuck another glance at Miranda, enjoying her serene gaze out into the darkness. A relaxed smile settled on his lips as he recalled his first memory of her sneaking over to his house all those years ago. He nearly had a panic attack in his sleep-induced haze when he saw her face through his bedroom window. His grin broadened in amusement.
"What's with the smile?" Miranda's voice mimicked how he felt.
"Nothing," John replied with a shrug. "I was just remembering the first time you knocked on my window."
Miranda's eyes brightened into mischievousness. "Ah, I remember." A sly smile formed next. "Your squeal earlier was almost an exact replica of the one you made that night."
John guffawed. "I don't squeal!"
"A highly pitched girlish sound then." Miranda tried to reason with a failed seriousness.
"All lies!" He gestured to himself with a determined expression. "I have you know, I am the epitome of a manly man." He did his best to withhold his laughter. "I make manly yells, not girlish squeals," he stated in all seriousness before Miranda's expression made him burst into laughter; she was desperately trying to remain stoic as her eyes crinkled in laughter.
"Yes," she laughed, unable to hold it any longer, "you're a bloody perfect human specimen."
"Oh yes, that sounded convincing." John rolled his eyes, trying to not sound too put out about her comment. He knew she was just teasing, but it still stung a little.
"Oh, don't give me that face. You are, John, I just find it funny that you just don't know what to do with all that manliness half the time." She nestled herself further under the blanket as they quieted down. John merely snorted at the comment, still a bit peeved. "I hope this doesn't change." Miranda's whisper permeated the silence as she stared at a small patch of fireflies.
"Hmm?" John turned to face her more fully, wondering what she meant. "That you think I'm a perfect specimen?" He let loose a crooked grin.
Miranda's cheeks burned red. "Oh, someone is cocky. No," she gestured between the two of them with a free hand, "this. I don't want this to end."
"It won't." John tried to assure, but he knew that they both knew differently. Miranda was getting married. And it wasn't the first time a big change had happened to them.
"You say that. I just wish it were true." she sighed out. "Did you know today is our anniversary?" She nervously scratched her collarbone.
John furrowed his brow, thinking upon the date. It was. They had met exactly twenty-four years ago. He had been so caught up with work today that he had forgotten (especially since he had nearly just walked in his door about an hour ago). That would explain the late night donut run, not that he minded; Miranda was used to announcing herself at his door whenever she felt like it. It was sweet that she would do that, even though it reminded him of his Dad, but he didn't mind: Miranda made him feel again, and he would celebrate that with her any day. "Yeah," he replied, recalling the day they met.
"Did you call your mum?" she asked, breaking his thoughts.
"Yeah. Last week. I wanted to go visit her and Dad's grave, but she wanted me to stay here." John nodded briefly as his thoughts glazed over the thought of his Father – his anniversary was just last week – and his mother. She had refused his attempt to come home, citing that she wanted a different ring on Miranda's finger and that wouldn't happen if he visited now. The thought made him want to blush and groan at the same time.
He sighed as his attention drifted to the Navy. No matter how hard he tried, something always brought his mind back to it; the occupational hazard of having grown up around and in it. And right now, the Navy reminded him of that burden in his jacket pocket. His eyes darted over to Miranda. He feared that he would have to tell her soon.
"That's good; she was nagging at me to get you to call more often." She granted him a charming smile, halting his immediate plan to tell her the news. It was their anniversary after all, and he would hate to ruin the peaceful atmosphere and that smile. "She was telling me that we need to visit her more." John tried not to grouse at his mother's implication. "In any case, I'm glad we've managed to stay friends for all these years."
John smiled; he was grateful for that as well. They've had many trials and hardships over the years, but though it all they managed to stay close despite the many incidents trying to tear them apart. However, he felt that unsettling rock drop inside his gut as the letter came back into his thoughts. "Me too."
"To our anniversary?" Miranda happily – if a bit tentatively – questioned, toasting her hot chocolate at John.
He tilted a teasing smirk toward Miranda, masking the dread by stuffing it away with the other buried emotions he had for Miranda and his future. "You're a bit late, aren't you?" He tapped his own drink against Miranda's and chugged the last of it.
Miranda scoffed. "A few hours; be bloody thankful that I got out of my hospital shift when I did, else I wouldn't even be here right now." She stretched her arms out before settling back into her cozy abode. "So bask in my presence."
A wry smile appeared on his lips as his nerves began to nag at him to tell Miranda. He should tell her – get it over with – before it blows up in his face like the first time.
"What's wrong?"
Damn Miranda and her knack of reading him.
"Miri…there's…there's something I should tell you…" John fumbled out, trying to figure out the best approach that garnished the least amount of yelling. He opened his mouth, not sure what was going to escape it.
RINGGGG!
"Oh, God, sorry." Miranda scrambled to mute the phone in her pocket. She glanced at the screen and rolled her eyes.
John let out a breath of relief? He wasn't sure, but Miranda's annoyed look piqued his curiosity, and allowed him to stall the inevitable onslaught of yelling and name-calling for a moment longer. "Who is it?"
"Jacob. Probably wondering where I'm at." She muted the ring and placed the phone back into her sweater pocket. "I'll talk to him later."
"Miranda…" John reprimanded gently, despite the small sick glee he received from Miranda's flippant attitude toward her fiancé.
"I'll call back later." She repeated. "You're more important," she replied without thinking.
John couldn't help the broad grin that formed on his face.
"Oh, there you go, cocky ego has appeared once more." She cleared her throat and John could clearly spot the blush on her cheeks. His smile widened from her embarrassment.
"Can't help it – you love me." He teased, feeling that natural happy flow generate between them once more, with a sprinkle of sadness.
She shook her head at him, but the smile still played on her features as she turned to glance out into the darkness. "Yeah, I do. So don't do anything stupid."
"No promises."
"Arse," she muttered, burrowing herself further into the blankets to avoid his verbal jests. "Now, what were you trying to tell me?"
The dread came flooding back.
Damn it. It looked like this was still happening.
Ding!
Miranda groaned as her phone announced a text message.
"Jacob?" John attempted to keep the annoyance from leaking out.
"Yes." Miranda scrunched her face as she read the text. "He's just trying to figure out where I'm at since I left the hospital. Honestly…" she muttered before typing back. "At John's. Don't wait up." She repeated as she wrote. "I swear he's been absolutely attached since that woman came; trying to make me into some doting daughter-in-law." She almost hissed out. "And you and I both know that I don't do attached well."
Except you're getting married in a few days. John bit the inside of his cheek before he let his uncensored thoughts run amuck in the open. He forced himself to concentrate on her words. Ah. That woman. "You're not avoiding his mother, are you?" He tilted his head at her, wondering if she was using him as an excuse. Not that he minded.
"No." She glared at him; the are-you-seriously-asking-me-John-glare. "I would never use you as an excuse. Jacob doesn't seem to understand. We may be engaged, but that does not mean that I have to stop seeing my best friend." Her voice and posture sounded and looked confident and sure, but John could see the uncertainty in her eyes – like she was feeling guilty about something. "He needs to realize that you're an important part in my life."
"He has a problem with me?" John resisted the urge to hackle at the implication.
"No…not you…just…" She groaned. "It's silly, really. He just noted that we've spend a lot of time together, that's all. I think that woman is insinuating something, which is making him try that much harder to show her that we're some perfect couple."
"Well, I am a perfect human specimen," he deadpanned.
"Arse," she repeated playfully. "It's just been annoying as of late – nothing I can't handle, however, if this leash of his develops further…" She trailed off with a darkened distant burden in her eye. John instantly knew that look and quickly scrambled for a change of topic.
"How was work today?" he asked, remembering that she mentioned she had just left the hospital. He placed his finished drink aside and folded his arms across his chest to conserve his warmth.
"It's fine." She shrugged, letting a corner of the quilt to fall down one shoulder as she instantly granted him a smile for the change of focus. John's eyes followed the movement before glancing back up at Miranda's face. "Though I rather remain in the R&D department, being able to help people in the moment, well, may be challenging at some times, but I found myself enjoying it more and more." Her eyes flitted to John's chest – at his heart. "I'm glad I chose this path…I…" Her jaw clenched and John instantly knew what she was thinking – blaming herself – about.
Well…that was wonderful…so much for trying to get her thoughts out of the past. Good job there, John.
"Hey, I thought we talked about this; I'm okay," he assured her as he motioned to give her hug; the need for that familiar contact was written on her face. "It's working fine; you've made it better than it was before."
Miranda curled into him the moment he approached, burrowing her head and arms onto his chest. She shook her head into him as she pressed a palm against his heart. John's heartbeat trilled. "I can't help thinking if I hadn't been there…"
"But you were; by whatever miracle you were, Miri. You need to stop thinking about this; my heart is fine," he whispered, welcoming the warmth that she provided him.
She shook her head again. "You have no idea what it was like seeing you like that…after so many years – with that shrapnel so close to your heart – and after that fight we had." John felt a violent shudder course through him and instantly knew that Miranda was fighting back a sob. "I thought I was going to lose you."
"Miri…hey," he gently lifted her head to face him – red rimmed eyes greeted him, "do you feel that?" he questioned her as he then gently placed his hand atop the one that was settled against his pounding heart, "It's beating. It's beating because of you. Always for you. Don't think that will ever change." He admitted, feeling that familiar tension from before rise as their eye connected powerfully.
There. There it was again. That look. John didn't know what to make of it, but his whole body was going on a rampage the moment he registered the leaning.