Chapter 15: Standing Outside a Southern Riot

10:15 p.m.

Forest Hills Bed and Breakfast, Carbondale, PA

The sound of leaves crunching under Lady Jaye's feet drowned out the incessant chatter of the voice inside her head. It was a voice she was sure everyone had—the little presence inside reminding you when something probably wasn't as great of an idea as you thought. Right now Lady Jaye's inner voice was engaged in a fruitless game of "what I should have said." She tried to ignore it, but she just couldn't help to play along. The premise was simple, reflect back on a recent exchange and come up with a better response. It was an acting exercise she learned back in the day. It was useful for getting you inside a character and internalizing that character's personality. In Jaye's case, the character was often her and she was constantly working on making Jaye a tougher and more refined version of the person formally known to the world as Alison Hart-Burnett. The best example she could come up with was her first meeting with Scarlett. The not quite savvy Jaye managed to get all up in Scarlett's grill without a real purpose. That was an instance of tough yet not refined. The practiced version of herself would have stuck with the "I'm your replacement" angle and ditched the "tawdry redhead" remark. Lesson learned.

Now her inner voice wanted to work on the Tomahawk incident. There she displayed neither toughness nor refinement of any sort. The character known as Lady Jaye was a complete dud for that exchange. She was surely not the girl that Flint admired. Unfortunately, she was becoming less of that girl as of late. She just felt so tongue-tied around him, so fearful of messing up and being less than the girl he thought she was. Around everyone else she found it easy to just be the Jaye they expected. It was a role she could play in her sleep. Around him though, she just wanted to be herself, the version that wasn't always so tough. That was just a disaster waiting to happen because he no doubt preferred the Jaye that just was. She wanted to be that Jaye for him too; she couldn't deny that was a still a part of her personality. She just wanted more, which just contrasted with the fact that it was becoming increasingly clear that he did not.

Ugh. She just wished that inner voice would shut up. She dug in deep and broke out into a sprint, ignoring the voice and honing in and concentrating on the sound of her footfalls, thump, thump, thump on the ground. The B&B was located close to one of the many hiking trails dotting the area. Agent Miller's aunt was kind enough to point her toward one that was a bit tamer than the rest. As she slowed the pace down, she felt the kinks work out of her muscles. She didn't realize how tightly she was wound until the fresh air hit her. After everything that happened in the past 24 hours, it felt good to just be.

What she should be was in bed sleeping away and getting much needed rest. It was going to be a big day tomorrow. Still, her body was too wired. Although it was late and she was dog-tired, she found sleep wouldn't come. Instead, her body was overwhelmed by an urgent need to move. Aunt Margie, as the woman ordered everyone to call her, had settled Jaye in a large, comfy room with a canopy feather bed and floral quilt. It wasn't really Jaye's style, but it felt right for this place. Jaye considered herself to be more of a modern traditionalist kind of gal—not quite Cape Cod, not quite Manhattan—just somewhere straddling the line between sleek coffee table and plush sofa. The B&B on the other hand was Country and Garden on steroids. Still, it was kind of fun to live it for a time. Besides the fluffy bed, the room contained a cozy window bench that opened to reveal a treasure trove of random novels and old magazines. Jaye had tried to calm herself with a cup of chamomile tea and an old bodice ripper left behind sometime in the 70s. It was no use. The novel only reminded her of what she didn't have. With a sigh, she had put the book back and crawled under the covers, waiting for the sandman to come. After about a half hour of tossing and turning, she knew she needed to escape.

Jaye tried to be discrete as she tiptoed down the old winding staircase. Somewhere between step seven and step eight there was a warped beam, and her foot gave way to a large screech that surely had to have woken up the entire B&B. Jaye winced, praying her teammates were in too deep sawing logs of their own to be awakened by her movements. After it seemed that no one was interested in checking out the sound, she snuck down to the kitchen, where the back door was located. Fumbling with the lock, she screamed and jumped back when the lights snapped on, flooding the room with a bright incandescent light that hurt her head. She wheeled around, hand held over her eyes to see Aunt Margie standing in the doorframe, brandishing a wooden rolling pin in her right hand. The women laughed as they let down their guard. Aunt Margie seemed to instinctively know what Jaye needed and drew out a simple map of the back of her property, pointing to the various routes Jaye could take. Margie patted her back and said she'd put a pitcher of water in Jaye's room for when she returned.

Up ahead was the twisted oak tree that Aunt Margie gave as a marker. Slowing down, Jaye stopped by the tree, pressing her hands against it and stretching out her calf muscles. For a few seconds, she debated continuing onward but then decided that she had gone far enough. Time to turn around, get some rest, and then be prepared to join her team in the morning. And yes, she now thought of the FBI guys as part of her "team." At least they were giving her a chance, unlike Flint. Just thinking his name was enough to start that barely perceptible throbbing around her left eye. Unlike the others, Flint did not hold back in his objections to her plan.

It was a rather simple plan; get someone inside Cobra and the rest would follow. If Agent Miller was right, there were only a few viable entrance points to the mines around Carbondale. Careful work by Tewes, in conjunction with the FBI Scranton agency office, had narrowed the choices down to two. But getting in was only half the battle. The other half would be waged trying to find their way around once they were underground. They didn't have the time to expertly pinpoint Cobra's whereabouts prior to going in and they certainly didn't have the time to meander around the miles of mine tunnels in the hopes of stumbling on to something. They had to be smart in their ignorance. Miller warned them of the dangers of heading in the wrong direction. From rock falls and potential cave-ins to something with the sinister name of "blackdamp," they had their work cut out for them.

Taking all of the above under consideration, Jaye proposed that the best approach was to let Cobra take them to Cobra. The simplest way to do that would be by letting someone get "captured." She hypothesized that if someone posed as a mine worker or inspector and wandered beyond the area of legitimate activity, Cobra would notice. Cobra would then take that person to the heart of their operations. J.T., using his equipment, could map out the area and make it easier for a strike team to then go in under his guidance. Naturally, she suggested that she would be best for the initial contact. Flint was not of the same mind.

"No, absolutely not. I won't agree to it." Flint pushed away from the conference room table and began to pace in the small area between the table and the wall. The others had cleared out of the room to follow-up on their respective tasks, leaving Flint and Lady Jaye alone to iron out their difference of strategy.

"Flint, it's the only way. There's too many of them for a direct attack but we're not going to be able to sneak in unannounced. Heck, we don't even know where to go. But if we let Cobra show us the way, it solves a lot of problems."

"Then not you. Let's send in Shipwreck."

Lady Jaye wasn't even going to start on his first statement. "Shipwreck hasn't done this type of work before."

Flint remained silent.

Lady Jaye continued down her list, "And we need Mainframe on the outside for the strike group. You're not known for covert ops. They'll suspect you right away and the risk is too great they won't take you."

Flint stopped, "You think I couldn't pull it off?"

Lady Jaye was just about ready to pull out her hair. "Yes, you could pull it off . . ."

"Then why . . ."

"Let me finish." She glared at him, "You are memorable. You have a presence and a certain carriage . . ." She paused, trying not to think too much about his presence and carriage. "If they get close to you, they'll know it's you right away. I'm used to blending in. They won't notice me until we're ready." She didn't want to beg, but that's what she felt like she was doing. "This is our best chance of getting someone on the inside."

"Well what about the FBI?"

"Agent Miller?" She raised her eyebrows, "You honestly think Agent Miller is our best option?"

Flint reluctantly agreed with her assessment. He stopped his pacing and leaned against the wall.

Lady Jaye anticipated his next thought, "And we need J.T. on the outside. He's the only one capable of running two transmitters. Without him, we are truly lost."

Flint pushed away from the wall and resumed his pacing, thinking out loud, "Still, it's too risky. I can't risk one of my men for some wild goose chase." He held back the thing that he really wanted to say, that he didn't want to risk her. He was doing exactly what he knew he shouldn't do, treat her differently. When he began to entertain thoughts of them as a them, he debated himself on what it would even mean to be a "them." It wasn't like in high school where he could pick her up from her house, meet up with her after practice, and stash a few things in her locker because it was closer to his English class. If they made it official, it would have to be strictly off the record. He couldn't do the things he'd probably do if he were dating someone. There'd be no waiting for her after practice, lord knew Beach Head would blow a gasket, and he'd have to think long and hard before he stashed anything in her locker. Their life, for all intents and purposes, would remain much as it was. Could he deal with the status quo? And that was even setting aside the dangers they faced if they were to be found. He was pretty sure he'd land on his feet, but her, she'd most likely face a discharge, dishonorable at best. When he came to his decision, he didn't come to it lightly. He was ready to be as much to her as she wanted. He only had to take one glance at her to confirm. Even if they could never go on a date for the entirety of their career, just the thought that one day they could, that one day she could be his girl, was enough to make any of it worthwhile.

The conclusion was the easy part, figuring out the rest was going to be tough. How on earth could they make it work? For starters, he had to give credit where credit was due. Her plan was good; it made sense. His duty was to now effectuate that plan and ensure a successful mission. That meant he had the responsibility to use his men where best needed. For the first time he dreaded his tactician brain. If his relationship was ever going to go beyond being just teammates with her, he'd have to learn to reconcile his feelings with his responsibilities. Being responsible meant using her exactly where her skill set would shine. Begrudgingly, he knew that meant sending her down below, on her own. He glanced over at her again. As he watched her bite her lip and wiggle her feet in her shoes, his heart couldn't risk her on some half-baked scheme. "If anyone goes in, it will be me." Flint might need a little bit more time to figure it all out. He folded his arms, signaling that his decision was made.

"Come on Flint."

"Are you questioning my authority?"

"That's not fair. You know I'm not questioning your authority. I'm not questioning you. Please, just let me do my job."

And they had left it at that, an uneasy truce. The pieces seemed to fall into place as the team packed up, leaving the urban sprawl of New York. Soon high rises and shopping malls were replaced by ripe, endless fields. Once they arrived in Carbondale, Agent Miller's aunt arranged for lodging and planted the seeds of their visit. Lady Jaye and J.T. were inspectors with the Department of Energy following up on mine safety reports. Back in DC, Patterson worked on creating a traceable background, promising to have badges and other props delivered to them early the next morning. Mainframe's friend Joe managed to finagle some prototype earphones that would allow Mainframe to talk with J.T. once they went down below. Mainframe vetoed Jaye getting a pair, despite Flint's insistence. There was too much concern Cobra could pick up and trace the signal. In case they had issues with direction because of the tunnels, Shipwreck's Navy buddy John loaned the group a state of the art GPS navigational system to keep their bearings. The strike team would at least have some sense of where they were traveling in the greater scheme of things.

Lady Jaye slowed down her pace as she reached the B&B property line. Glancing at her watch, it wasn't quite 10:30. Jogging in place, she again debated another go at the trail. She still felt wound up. Reason, and maybe that inner voice, instructed her that the best course of action was to get inside, maybe take a bath, curl up with a book, a different book, and try to at least rest her mind. The plan was coming along and there wasn't anything she could do until morning. As she pondered her next move, she eased into some stretches. She reached down to touch her toes. Rising up, she instantly regretted it as a wave of dizziness washed over her. The pounding resumed around her left eye; the Tylenol must have worn out. J.T. had offered to get her something stronger, but she had declined, citing to the need to be sharp for the mission. At this point, she added that decision to her list of regrets. A little something stronger might have helped her fall asleep and avoid this all from the beginning. Shrugging it off, she decided to head inside. Walking past a white gazebo, she figured she would at least try to just chill.

"Hey, Jaye."

She shrieked and jumped back, arms raised to fight.

Flint emerged from the darkness of the gazebo, hands held up in surrender. "It's just me."

"Flint, you scared the beejeezus out of me." Her heart was threatening to jump right out of her chest. "What are you doing?" She blew a quick breath of air out, trying to calm down her system. Flint took her elbow and guided her to the gazebo. An optimist would probably call the gazebo "intimate" as their knees bumped when they sat down. She felt a spark as they touched; it was like a tiny jolt of electricity passing through her body. She gasped, wondering if he felt the same.

"I stopped by your room."

"I couldn't sleep."

"Me neither." Flint shifted his weight on the bench feeling like he was standing outside a riot, watching the chaos burn from a distracted distance. He had a visceral longing to jump into the melee and let the crowd take him. He was prepared when he stopped by her room earlier. When she wasn't there, it was almost a relief. It was like he got a pass on Kansas City part two. Then he made the mistake of going to the kitchen to get a snack. Margie, make that Aunt Margie, told him where Jaye had gone. He watched as his feet then walked him outside and took up residence in the gazebo. Waiting only led to thinking. Thinking never did anything but get him in deeper with Jaye. He was so deep now he didn't know what to say.

Jaye stole a peek at Flint and immediately looked down. He was staring back at her with an intense look on his face. Her leg jittered up and down, uncomfortable with this level of scrutiny. Her feathers ruffled; she felt wasn't something to observe in a petri dish. She tried to fill in the space. "I went for a run." She cringed, master of the obvious.

"I noticed." He gestured at her overall appearance.

Feeling that their conversation wasn't going to go anywhere, she decided to extricate herself from any more pain and started to rise, "Well, I should probably . . ."

He grabbed her wrist, pulling her back down to the bench. "Don't." She stopped. He released her wrist, thankful she had stayed. "Alison, what happened to us?"

She looked back at him, perplexed. "What are you talking about?"

"Us, the two of us. Something happened and I don't know where we went wrong. You used to talk to me, but after Kansas City you stopped." She started to speak, but he held up his hand, stopping her. "Don't say you haven't. You have. I've had a front row seat for it. Alison, it's like you haven't heard me. I meant everything I said."

"Haven't heard you. That's what you think? You think I haven't heard you? That's a good one." She felt her anger kicking in. "Believe me, I heard you loud and clear." She started to pace in the confined space. "You made yourself more than perfectly clear in the Tomahawk."

"The Tomax thing? Come on. I apologized. I was angry and stupid. I certainly didn't mean it."

"But you said it and it really hurt. I have feelings too. You just can't say something like that and expect me to just shrug it off. I can't."

"I know you do. I never meant to hurt you."

"But you did Flint. You said it. I don't think you can just take it back. And now, wanting Shipwreck to go undercover and not me?"

"Shipwreck? What does Shipwreck have to do with anything?"

She stopped pacing, turning to face him, "He has everything to do with this. Listen, I know I made a mistake in Kansas City. You asked what happened. That's what happened. I shouldn't have done what I did. I threw myself at you. I know, it was wrong and stupid and I'm sorry. I'm just really sorry. But you could have ignored it. Instead, you treat me like I'm some damsel in distress . . ."

"Whoa, slow down. That's what this is about?" Flint couldn't help it, the smile slipped out before he had a chance to temper his emotions. Here he thought she was avoiding him for what he did. No. She was avoiding him for what she thought she did. She was beating herself up for thinking she threw herself at him. If that was the case, then damn, life was good. He wasn't alone in this. Flint found he had to rein in his thoughts a tad bit as he watched Jaye's face morph from an awkward embarrassment to a slow burn. He forgot to play his poker face. From the looks of it, she was about to let him have it. No matter, he could take it. She cared about him. The side of his mouth perked up. He was on a role. That smile just kept fighting to be had.

"You're laughing at me!"

He could pretty much predict her actions. Now that he wasn't dancing on the fire, he found he could relax a bit and almost preened on his knowledge of how she'd react. Yep, sure enough, there it was, hands on hips, legs apart, eyes narrowed down to embers. He wiggled his own hips on the bench trying to adjust his pants. All he could think of was how hot she looked right now. There was something inherently sexy about mad Jaye. He was a thirsty man who just found his oasis.

"I can't believe you find this funny." She bit her lower lip, finding that she was always a beat away from tears these days. "Screw you." She pivoted around and stormed off before Flint had a chance to explain. Even knowing she was marching off in anger did little to break his jubilant mood. Rather, he simply admired the view. Standing up, he felt like doing a victory dance around the gazebo. Intertwining his fingers, he pushed his hands out, cracking the bones in his knuckles. With a tilt of the head to the left and then to the right, his game face was on. Time to put away his pride and test out his decision.