Ghosts That Haunt

by Adderlygirl

AU / Sequel to Forging a Life. Casey is assigned a foreign female operative to pose as his girlfriend.

14. Chapter 14

Ghosts that Haunt—14

Casey woke at dawn. Riah was still asleep, and he just lay there, held her until the sun was fully up before he covered the hand over his heart and started kissing her awake. When she mumbled something about sleeping a little longer, he told her he didn't want to waste what time they had left. He thought about taking her somewhere where they wouldn't be interrupted, somewhere he knew there would be no eyes or ears, but in the end, he decided to just stay where they were. She sent him to the shower while she went downstairs to make coffee, and when he came down, she handed him a cup before she kissed him. He nearly followed her back upstairs, but he knew he had things to do, so he let her go alone.

First, he disconnected the apartment's surveillance and swept for anything that might have been added after he left. When he was sure their rooms were clean, he got down to business.

Beckman was in her office, which didn't surprise him. It did, however, surprise her that he was in Los Angeles. "I thought, Major," she said tartly, "that you were spending your leave with family."

"You could say that," he agreed, watched her frown. "This is a courtesy call, General." He let that sink in a minute before he continued. "I've asked Mariah Adderly to marry me. She accepted. I'm not stupid enough to believe that's all it will take, though, so consider this formal notice of my intent. I would appreciate it if you would begin the approval process."

Beckman sat back, a sour look on her face. "Since I haven't had a phone call, angry or otherwise, from Miss Adderly's father, I assume neither of you have told him of your plans yet."

"No, ma'am," he acknowledged.

She sighed. "I suppose I should have seen this coming," she mused. "You had an exemplary record until we sent her to you."

He ground his teeth. He still had an exemplary record—discounting the formal reprimand over the Laurance affair and his near miss with AWOL charges after Riah's shooting. He further resented the implication that Riah was to blame for those. "General Beckman," he began, but she stopped him.

"Be careful what you say next, Casey," she warned. "You're still my best agent, and despite having gone soft on Operation Bartowski, I would like to keep your services if I can."

"I intend to marry her, General," he said. "If it means I leave the NSA, then I will."

"No, Major Casey, that won't be necessary, but it will mean she will have to leave ISI. Even then there may be other conditions. She's a foreign national—"

"With American citizenship," he cut in.

"—who works for a foreign agency," she said in the tight, crisp tone of voice that prevented argument. "ISI and the Canadian government may have some roadblocks of their own." He watched the General sit back, her mouth a grim line. "When she was assigned to you, we did a deep background check, so the more time-consuming part of the required investigation has already been done. We'll talk about this further when we meet tomorrow. In the meantime, I suggest you inform her father."

"Yes, General."

She looked at him a moment. Then, she apparently relented. "I presume you booked a flight back for this evening?"

He nodded, told her he was due to leave Los Angeles in the early evening.

The General sighed. "I'll arrange alternate transport, Major," she told him, explained she would call and let him know when and where he would catch a plane. She shook her head slightly, and then she snorted a kind of sigh before she told him, "Though it may be premature, Casey, let me offer my congratulations."

A little taken aback given her previous orders regarding Riah, he said, "Thank you, General."

Beckman cut the connection then, and he sat back and picked up his coffee. He had a feeling the companion discussion with Adderly wouldn't be at all pleasant. In fact, despite their seeming détente over his relationship with the man's daughter, he was fairly certain V. H. would be unhappy to say the least. Casey considered calling the other man, but then he decided to wait for Riah. It was too late to seek her father's permission on a personal level since he'd already asked Riah and she'd said yes, so all that remained was the bureaucratic part.

He took the time to scan through the surveillance recordings from while he was gone, and he gritted his teeth at two particular interactions between Riah and Kavanaugh. He added an extra, special task to his mental list.

When she came back downstairs, Riah slid into his lap and gave him a rather thorough good morning kiss. "I thought I heard voices," she said.

"I called Beckman," he told her and then summarized the conversation for her. She made a face, and he could tell she was thinking about whether or not their governments could actually stop them from marrying.

"What happens if they won't let us?" she asked.

He leaned in and kissed her. "I'll retire. I have enough years in."

She eyed him. "They don't always let someone like you walk away, John. Sometimes they retire you with prejudice."

Casey snorted. It was true enough, but he didn't think it would come to that, and he told her so. She didn't look convinced, and even he had to admit he wasn't himself. He didn't tell her that, though.

Riah slid out of his lap and padded to the kitchen to fix them something to eat. He followed her and stood next to the stove, his hips against the counter and watched her cook. She made his one of his favorites, a variation on Eggs Benedict without the hollandaise and Canadian bacon but with mushrooms sautéed in vermouth and covered with melted brie. When they had finished eating and cleared the table and the kitchen of dirty dishes, he put his arms around her and asked if she wanted to call her father.

"I should call Mum first," she said. He could read reluctance on her face.

After his time with Ariel, he suspected her mother wouldn't disapprove. He leaned in and kissed her, grinned and offered to hold her hand while she told her mother. He followed Riah upstairs and watched as she walked around the bed to find her phone. She had, apparently, dropped it when she'd turned it off after talking to Emma and letting the voice mail pick up the call that followed—not that he had given her much choice. She pushed the button to turn the BlackBerry on, and then he watched her face pale.

"What?" he asked, immediately on alert. She turned the phone where he could see the call log she'd opened. There were sixteen missed calls: ten from her mother, four from her father, and two from Emma. There were voice mails for nearly every missed call. He sat on the edge of the bed and pulled her between his knees. "Just call them."

She used the speed dial, and he wondered who she called first. He soon had his answer when she asked, "Em?" Thinking back to his mother's call the night before, he wondered if it was a girl thing to ask if the person you called was really who you thought it was.

The volume on her phone was set high enough and he was close enough to her he could hear Emma ask, "That was Casey, wasn't it?"

Riah smiled at him. "Yes."

"Well?" her sister demanded.

She grinned broadly. "He came home for Christmas."

"I hope he brought you a good present," Emma said, and Casey thought it sounded like a threat.

"He did," she assured her sister as she slid her left hand up his chest

"Besides him," he heard Emma say in exasperation.

Riah gave a very unladylike snort. "Diamonds and platinum—enough carats to keep Mum from disowning me."

Emma squealed. Casey assumed that meant he passed the good present test. She quickly turned into the no-nonsense girl he was used to, though. "We've got a lot to do," Emma said.

There was a moment when Riah looked amused by her sister getting down to business, but then her face took on an alarmed look. "Is Mum there?" Emma said she was downstairs with Ben, and Casey watched Riah sag with relief. "I haven't told her yet," Riah confessed.

He heard Emma laugh and then say, "I'm flattered you thought of me first, but neither of us had better ever let her know that."

Riah laughed, too. "Mmm," she said, "I'd like to live, thank you."

"Okay," Emma said. "I'm going to hang up, so you can call her. Then call me back."

"Tomorrow, Em," she promised.

There was a pause. "Why not today?"

"John leaves tonight."

"Well, tell Mom quickly—and tell Casey he has to tell you goodbye."

He watched Riah frown. "What?" Casey asked as she hung up the phone.

"She said to tell you that you have to tell me goodbye."

Casey could see that troubled her, so he pulled her closer to him and then rolled them both on the bed so that they lay facing one another. He kissed her and said, "She made me promise when you were in the hospital that I wouldn't leave without telling you goodbye."

"Did you?"

"I was afraid she'd shoot me if I didn't."

She laughed softly at that. "Call your mother," he said and then asked if she wanted him to let her have some privacy. She shook her head and used speed dial once more.

Ariel was on her best behavior, as far as Casey could tell. Riah watched him as she told her mother hesitantly that she had something to tell her. Ariel immediately asked what he had done to her. Riah closed her eyes, and Casey wondered if she was asking for patience or if Ariel's question upset her. He considered taking the phone from her and giving Ariel an earful. "Nothing, Mum," Riah said, and then she smiled at Casey. "Actually, that's not true."

There was a heavy silence from Ariel's end, and Riah let it drag out a moment before saying, "John asked me to marry him, Mum. I said yes."

"Are you happy, Mariah?" he heard her mother ask.

The smile he had seen many times in the last twenty-four hours made its appearance again. "Very much so."

"Good. Talk about dates, and then we'll get started planning."

The smile faded. "It isn't going to be that simple, Mum," she told her.

Her mother asked if Casey was with her, and Riah said yes. Ariel told her to use the speakerphone. "You haven't told her father yet, have you?"

"No," Casey said. Riah looked too stricken to say anything.

"Have you told your masters yet?"

"Yes," he said. "I told my boss this morning."

"And?"

"It's been added to the agenda for the meeting already scheduled for tomorrow."

Ariel said, "So you're leaving again?" When he confirmed it, Ariel sighed. "Is this what married life will be like for Mariah? Waiting for you to get back from some godforsaken country with all of your appendages?"

He reminded himself that she had lived that life and come to resent it and the man who repeatedly left her. The biggest difference between him and V. H. was that he wouldn't cheat on Riah as her father had on her mother. He could hardly tell Ariel that, though, not without it sounding like he was rubbing it in, and right now she seemed mostly on his side.

"Don't answer that, Casey," she said. "I'm glad you finally told her how you feel, but I think you'd better tell her father soon. He'll see that there are no problems on their end because he will want Mariah to be happy. He might be able to smooth things over with your bosses as well."

Casey sincerely hoped she was right about V. H. It would make this simpler if he didn't throw up his own roadblocks. It also occurred to him that she was, for once, raising no objections. Of course, that could be because Riah was listening, so he did something he rarely did—he shared his own intentions. "For what it's worth," he told her, "I've told Riah that when this next job is finished, I will ask to be reassigned to Los Angeles."

"Then make sure you stay alive, Casey," she said. "Mariah, I love you. Call me when you know whether or not you've got a green light. I'll come stay, and we can talk through some preliminary plans. Casey, don't leave without agreeing to a date."

"I won't," he promised.

Riah looked shell-shocked when they had both hung up. "Wow, you two really did bury the hatchet, didn't you?"

He laughed and kissed her. "I don't think your mother will always make quite so nice with me. You were listening, after all." She snorted and he kissed her again. "Let's go call your dad."

She frowned and held up her phone. "Go?"

Casey took a deep breath. "I don't think he's going to be very happy for us, and I think we're both going to have to talk to him. That's easier downstairs."

He could tell Riah didn't agree, but he knew V. H. The other man had been his friend, but Casey's attachment to Riah had strained that friendship. Adderly knew he had been sleeping with Riah, and he had made no bones about his displeasure. Despite his apparent acceptance of the fact, Casey was under no illusions that the other man would suddenly forgive him because he was making his daughter an honest woman.

Sighing, Casey told her, "Riah, he and I have known each other for years, perhaps a little too well. I'm not the kind of man he wanted for his daughter."

She absorbed that and then nodded. They went downstairs, and Casey put the call through. V. H. was obviously surprised to see them sitting together. He chose to ignore Casey for the moment, though, and said to his daughter, "I tried getting you several times yesterday."

Riah tensed beside him, and Casey slid a hand over hers, wondered why her father hadn't tried the landline if he really wanted to talk to his daughter. "I had my phone off."

"Not a good idea, Mariah. You know that," her father growled.

"Dad, I need to tell you something." When he didn't respond, she continued, told him baldly, "John asked me to marry him." V. H. gave Casey a look that made the phrase evil eye come to mind. The tense silence stretched, and Riah's hand trembled in his. "I said yes."

"You know it isn't that easy, Mariah." He proceeded to explain to her in considerable detail about how difficult it would be for a Canadian operative to marry an American one. He told her she would probably have to leave ISI, that Casey could be asked to leave the NSA, and that the Americans could hold up their getting married for months if not years—assuming they didn't prevent it all together.

When he finished, an uncomfortable silence stretched. "Honey," her father finally said, "Casey's an old friend, but I can't say I like the idea of you marrying him." Casey had expected that, but he had thought Adderly might save it for a conversation that didn't include him. "He's too old for you, for one," he explained, and Casey squeezed her hand to stop the objection she obviously wanted to make, letting her father finish with, "and who he is and what he does puts you at risk."

"Dad, what you do put me at risk. What I do puts me at risk."

"It's not the same, Mariah, and you know it."

It was the same, but Casey was smart enough not to say so. Riah apparently was as well.

"And it doesn't matter that I love him?"

"Mariah," V. H. said heavily, "you've been in the business long enough to know that what you think and feel doesn't matter." He changed tack then. "Have either of you talked to Diane?"

Casey cleared his throat. "Earlier this morning."

"And?"

He shook his head. "I have to return to Washington tomorrow for a briefing. We'll discuss it further then." He paused. "I asked General Beckman to begin the process on our end." Casey breathed in and continued, "I told Riah you wouldn't be happy about this, that I'm not the kind of man you want for her, but I do love her and I will do whatever it takes to make her happy."

They stared at one another a moment. Casey resisted the urge to flinch from Adderly's stony stare.

"Mariah?" her father asked tightly.

"Dad, I love him." He could tell from how her father's expression wavered a moment that the other man heard the tears in her voice.

"If he makes you happy," V. H. sighed.

"He does, Dad" she assured him.

"Okay. I'll start the process on this end." He looked at Casey again. "I'll talk to Diane, and we'll start the negotiations, but," he warned, "that doesn't mean, Mariah, that this will happen, so don't let your mother make too many plans." He gave a wry grin then. "And try to keep the costs down a bit. Your mother may be a multi-millionaire, but I'm not."

That made Riah laugh, and she said, "I love you, Dad."

Casey pulled her against him when the connection died. "He's right, you know."

"I don't care," she whispered. "You asked, and that's enough for me."

He realized then that she really didn't know how this worked, and that surprised him. Surely ISI, like most agencies, taught their operatives what would happen when they dated—or wanted to marry. Their agencies thoroughly investigated the other person, looked for national security threats, but, more importantly, looked for threats to the agency or agencies in question. In the end, whatever their agencies decided, they would have to comply. He looped his arms around her and said quietly, "I don't think you understand what happens if they say no."

She frowned, shrugged. "So we just live together."

He shook his head. "No, Riah, we don't. If they say we can't get married, what they really mean is that we have to go our separate ways."

She looked stricken, and for a split second, he wished he had said nothing to her, had just let her think what she wanted until they had an answer. "I have American citizenship," she whispered.

"That will help," he assured her, "but it's your ISI affiliation that will be the problem."

"I've worked with you, with Walker, for nearly a year. I've never betrayed anything I learned here, not about you, not about Walker, not about Chuck."

"I know, Riah," he told her.

"I never will," she continued.

"I know," he repeated. Beckman knew it, too, and he hoped it would be enough. He needed to distract her, so he said, "Come on." He pulled her up the stairs behind him. In their room, he turned her to face him. "We don't have much longer, Riah. I leave tonight, and we still have a lot to talk about. Here, or somewhere else?"

He read in her face that she knew what they would discuss. "Here," she whispered.

Casey stacked the pillows against the headboard and then sat, leaned back against them and pulled Riah onto the bed with him. She rolled on her side, and he put his arms around her. "Tell me," he said softly.

She did so in fits and starts, and he waited patiently, only speaking when she seemed to get lost or stalled. She told him about being sick, about how the smell of things made her vomit. She told him she finally figured it out and took a pregnancy test. She told him about calling her aunt, about her mother, and he thought he'd put up with anything Ariel threw at him in future for the unquestioning support she'd given her daughter—especially since she hadn't taken the opportunity to drive a wedge between them. Riah told him about her conversation with Beckman, about her belief she was bribed with fuller inclusion in the Intersect project to buy her silence and make sure she didn't tell him. It didn't surprise him, sounded like something Beckman would do, especially since she really didn't expand Riah's role, apparently, but it pissed him off.

Riah stopped then. Throughout her recitation, she had stared at his chest. He wondered if she was afraid to look at him, afraid of his reaction to what she told him. He ran a hand up her arm when she shivered, pulled her a little closer. "I had already decided I wouldn't tell you," she added quietly.

That pissed him off as well. He had rights, and one was to know he was going to be a father. He bit that back, though, bit back the bitterness he felt, the betrayal he felt, and instead asked, "Why?" He tipped her face up when she didn't answer. She still didn't meet his eyes.

"Because I didn't want you to come back just because of the baby."

Looking at her, Casey suspected it was more a case of being afraid he wouldn't want the baby or her, but he didn't contradict her. He had been damn near paranoid about preventing a pregnancy. In the end, his efforts had failed. She looked down, and he leaned his cheek against the top of her head. "Riah," he asked softly, "what happened?"

She tensed, seemed to draw in on herself, and then she broke. He held her and let her cry. When she finally stopped, before he could think of something comforting to say, she said thickly, "Aunt Lydia says it wasn't my fault," and he ached for her.

Casey didn't think she believed that at all from the sound of her voice. She told him the rest then, told him about having cramps through the day and not thinking anything about it. She told him she went to bed early because she tired easily, and then she went quiet again. When she started talking once more, her voice so soft that he didn't think he would have heard her if he hadn't been so close to her, she told him about waking up in the middle of the night to find she was bleeding. At that point, it poured out of her, how she called her aunt, how Lydia came to get her, and, finally, how her aunt told her she lost the child.

Riah began to cry again. Lost himself, Casey held her tightly. He had done some reading, most of it, admittedly, online, about miscarriage. The articles he'd read said again and again that it was generally not the mother's fault, that the fetus was simply not viable for whatever reason. He'd read about the various causes of miscarriage, but he couldn't bring himself to ask if she knew which she'd experienced.

"It wasn't your fault," he finally said, inadequate though the words were.

"I know," she whispered. "Lydia made sure I knew." She wiped at her face a moment, and then she told him the rest, told him how the blackness had taken her, how Bartowski had raised the alarm when she didn't show up for work. She told him about her mother and the rest of her family coming, how her mother had dragged her out of bed, made her clean up and eat, and how they had wanted her to talk to Ben.

She lifted her head then, and Casey wished it was dark so she wouldn't see his face. Whatever she had been about to say died unsaid as she looked at him. "When I found out," he choked then and had to stop. After a moment, he went on, "When I found out, all I could think was how badly I wanted it to be a mistake."

This time, she tried to comfort him. She climbed into his lap and sat astride his hips, facing him. Her arms went around him and so did her legs. He wrapped himself around her as well, and the two of them sat there and grieved, clung to one another for quite some time. She finally asked, her voice barely above a whisper, "How did you find out?"

"Emma," he admitted. "When you were shot and I was supposed to leave to catch my flight, she followed me out and asked if that was what I did. She thought I made a habit of just walking away from you."

"'Tell Casey he has to tell you good bye,'" she whispered.

He nodded. "Then she tore into me for not being there when you lost the baby." He buried his face in her shoulder a moment. "She thought I knew and didn't care." He swallowed. "I stayed. I kept hoping you'd be awake enough we could talk, but Beckman sent the MPs before that happened." She gave him a confused look, so he explained quickly. Then he breathed in deeply a moment and pulled back to look at her.

It was his turn. Instinct made him want to tear into her for not telling him, but looking at her, seeing the depth of pain still there, he tempered it. She wasn't one of his men, and she wasn't an errant agent assigned to him who needed to be ripped to shreds so it didn't happen again. He had to get this right, had to not hurt her so badly she reconsidered her yes. Casey watched her until he was sure he could get just the right amount of anger and hurt, until he was sure he wouldn't drive a permanent wedge before he started.

"For once in your life, Riah, you should have been selfish. You should have made me shut up the night I called you long enough to tell me. You should have answered my e-mail. You should have insisted that Walker or Beckman find me so you could tell me. Paul Patterson knew where I was, and he would have found me for you. When—" he choked, waited a moment, and then continued, "when you lost the baby, you should have made someone find me. I couldn't have gotten here in time, but I would have come." He leaned his forehead against hers, looked at her. "Never do that again."

He took his thumbs and wiped away her tears before he kissed her. She clung to him, kissed him back. She didn't look at him when she said, "I had to quit taking the pill, John, because of the baby. I didn't start again because you were gone." He heard what she thought, that he wasn't coming back. Then he realized they had been having a lot of unprotected sex in the last thirty-five hours or so. She sniffled. "I'll need to start again."

His arms tightened around her, and he waited until she looked at him again. He studied her, considered and reconsidered what he wanted to say, but then he saw it. "Don't," he said.

Her eyes went wide. "Don't?"

Perhaps he had read her wrong. "Unless you want to," he told her and tried not to let the disappointment creep into his voice. He nearly backtracked on that before he realized he meant it. He examined that a moment, realized something he'd never completely admitted to himself. He thought back to that drunken conversation with Bartowski after Ilsa turned up. He'd told the kid then he wasn't the parental type, didn't want to be, and while he wasn't at all sure he could ever really be that type, he thought he'd at least like to try.

Riah had gone a little paler, looked a little uneasy, so he told her how he honestly felt. This time, it was very different from his stance before. "I want children, Riah, but only if you do. If you don't, that's okay." He kissed her softly. She looked at him, studied him. He laid a hand on her abdomen. "Let's just let it happen—if it's going to."

Her nod of agreement seemed a long time coming. He held her without saying anything for quite some time, but eventually he slid her off his lap, turned and laid her on the bed, stretched out beside her. He pulled her close, and they stayed that way for a long while before he remembered her mother's orders. "On the off chance they let us get married, when do you want to do it?"

She lifted her head from his shoulder. "How long will you be in Gaza?"

He confessed he didn't know. She told him she was in no particular hurry. He told her he might be. She frowned at him and asked why. He kissed her very thoroughly and very heatedly, and she breathlessly said, "Oh." She told him she didn't want to get married in June. They talked about April, but she reminded him Ellie and Woodcomb were getting married in April. She ruled March out for logistical reasons—Emma had commitments with school that month, and her mother had professional commitments as well. He asked if she wanted to wait until fall or winter. She shook her head. They talked about Memorial Day weekend. Riah told him she knew a couple who married during that holiday, neither of whom could ever remember their anniversary because the dates of the holiday changed each year.

Eventually, she slipped out of his arms, went in her old room, and came back with a calendar. They compared American and Canadian holidays, looked for a time when their friends and families might all be free. As Riah sat there with the paper calendar and the calendar on her BlackBerry open in front of her, she suddenly went still and cocked her head to the side. A funny little smile pulled up the corners of her mouth, and he asked what she was thinking. "Fourth of July is a weekend this coming year."

"Come on," he groaned. "I'm not getting married on the Fourth of July." He'd never hear the end of it—from Bartowski or anyone else, for that matter. They all seemed to think he had an American flag and "Made in the USA" stamped on his ass as it was.

She grinned, lifted a brow. "You'd never forget our anniversary."

He snorted. That would certainly be true. "Maybe we ought to talk about where we're getting married before we pick a date."

Casey assumed she would want to get married in Canada, either in Ottawa or in Newfoundland. He supposed she might consider Chicago home and want to marry there. She looked at him and said, "I don't consider myself particularly religious, but I would like to be married in church, and I would like to be married at home." She sighed and added, "But the logistics of getting married in Canada don't make a lot of sense."

He ran a hand up her back. "How so?"

Riah told him she would have to travel back and forth, and she didn't want to be away from him any more than she had to be. He shared that particular sentiment, so he nodded. She asked if he wanted to get married in his hometown. Casey shook his head.

She eyed him, rolled her bottom lip between her teeth, and after several moments admitted, "I think the easiest thing all around is to just get married here. You won't have to leave Chuck, Mum has a house not so near she will make me crazy but close enough she can help, and we have friends here. There're also enough airports in Los Angeles to make it easy to get everyone else here." She stopped, and he thought about it. It made sense, so he agreed.

Casey could tell there was something else, though, so he waited. When she didn't speak up after a few moments, he asked her to tell him. "I'd like Peter to marry us, though—if that's okay with you." He wondered who the hell Peter was, and he felt certain he wasn't going to like the answer. She must have seen the expression on his face, for she explained quickly that she and this Peter had gone to school together as children, been lifelong friends, and he was a priest at her old parish church in Newfoundland.

That settled, they went back to looking at calendars. He pointed out her birthday fell on a weekend the coming year. She gave him a look before she snapped back that his did, too. "I'm not getting married on my birthday," he groused.

She lifted a brow and said, "Neither, am I, John."

It seemed that no matter what date they looked at, there was a problem. Weekends were the most feasible since they both had family who would need to travel, and both conceded holidays that provided an extra day or two off would ease that. No matter how hard he tried, Casey could not find a better day than the one she had suggested, presumably as a joke. He finally sighed and conceded that July 4 was the earliest, most workable date. She seemed taken aback by his capitulation. He added, "Wear just the white, though, okay?"

She looked up at him, and a blush spread over her cheeks. "I don't think I'm entitled."

He leaned over a bit and kissed her thoroughly. "You were a virgin, Riah. I think you qualify for the white gown."

"You're sure about this?" she asked.

"Well," he drawled and nibbled along her neck. "I'm not sure any man can ever be completely certain, but—"

She stopped him with her mouth.

"Not that," she growled when she released him.

"Riah, I don't care when we get married as long as you marry me."

She gave him one of those smiles of hers, the ones that lit her face and loosened something in him, and then it shifted and he had a sinking feeling he was about to have to defend himself. "Tradition calls for something blue. I suppose I could look at one of those navy and white dresses I see more and more, and if I wore garnets or rubies—"

This time, he stopped her with his mouth. If she dared arrange a red, white and blue wedding, he would make her elope. "No clichés, Riah. White."

"White is the cliché, John," she said with a smile and then asked, "What about you?"

For a split second he was confused. He would wear whatever she told him to, even if it was one of those god-awful morning coats one of his sisters had put her wedding party in. Truthfully, he wanted to wear his dress uniform, but he wasn't sure how she would feel about that. He was proud of his service, but his sister Jan had made him wear a suit when she married.

"Spit it out, Major," Riah said.

"Would it upset you if I wore my dress uniform?"

Riah shook her head. "Not at all." She ran a hand up his chest and cupped his cheek. Her voice dropped to a soft, sexy register. "Did I ever tell you I have a thing for men in uniform?"

Casey leaned in for a long, slow kiss and stroked a hand up under her shirt. She wasn't wearing a bra, and he ran a thumb over her nipple. She moaned. "Really?" he asked, more interested in her reaction to his thumb than to his question.

"Mmm," she said, her eyes heavy-lidded. "One of the photographs in your ISI file is of you in uniform. I thought you were gorgeous." He lifted his head to stare at her. She'd never given any indication in their early days that she found him even remotely attractive. "You are gorgeous," she murmured, and put her mouth under his jaw and began kissing his throat. "Why do you think I was ready to murder that redheaded major when you took me to that Marine thing?"

Redheaded major? Then he remembered the verbal swipes she had taken at Celia. That was the night she had met Paul Patterson, and his former commanding officer had been half in love with her by the end of the evening. "If it makes you feel any better, I was nearly ready to kill General Patterson before the night was over."

She gave him a satisfied smile. "I like Paul." Casey growled, and her smile widened. "He's a very sweet, very handsome man."

"Riah," he said in warning.

She pulled him down and kissed him with her entire body. "You, John. Only you," she murmured. "We don't have a lot of time left," she whispered and met his mouth again.

They made the most of the rest of the day, and in the early evening, Casey dragged her out of bed and told her he was taking her out to dinner. Riah put on a stunning, deep blue dress, and he slid his arms around her from behind as she put the diamonds he'd given her back in her ears. He nearly told her she was beautiful, but he remembered the last time he had done that while holding her from behind. "They suit you," he told her instead, and she smiled.

It was a little before nine when they returned home. Casey hoped against hope that they could get in the apartment without meeting anyone, so they could spend the last few hours he had loving one another. He'd told her over dinner at the little Italian place she liked so much that Beckman had arranged for a military transport for him so that he could stay later than he had originally planned.

He stifled a sigh when he saw Ellie and Woodcomb in the courtyard, and Ellie called them over. Riah shot him a look. It helped a little that she was equally disappointed as they crossed to where the other couple sat. When Casey thanked Ellie again for dinner the day before, she waved his thanks off. She asked when he had to leave, and he admitted he would go in a few hours.

"You gonna need someone to take you to the airport?" Woodcomb asked, and Casey told him he'd made other arrangements. He'd drive his rental, and someone would return it for him.

Suddenly, Ellie crowed, "I knew it!"

Both Casey and Woodcomb looked at her, puzzled. "Knew what, babe?" Woodcomb asked.

Ellie was out of her seat and crushing Riah in a hard hug. "I knew it!" Then she released Riah and squeezed Casey tightly. He didn't squirm, didn't say anything, just let the woman attempt to fracture his ribcage until she let go. When she let him breathe again, she lifted Riah's left hand and said, "Let me see!" Ellie held Riah's hand up, turned it to examine the ring in the limited light of the courtyard. "Wow!" she breathed. "Wow!"

"She has a sixth sense about these things," Woodcomb said with a weird kind of pride.

Casey was inordinately pleased by Ellie's reaction to the ring. In that moment, it was worth every penny. Then, he plunged into doubt. There was no way an appliance salesman could afford two carats of high-quality diamonds set in platinum. Riah's ring had set him back more than a year's salary at the Buy More. Fortunately, Ellie didn't think of that. At the moment, she was firing questions at them the way a drill instructor barked orders, but Casey didn't think either he or Riah had a hope in hell of answering even a fraction of them, especially since Ellie didn't seem to pause long enough to breathe, let alone let anyone answer any of those questions. Woodcomb finally intervened, put his hands on his fiancée's shoulders and said, "Babe, come up for air a minute."

Casey gave a quiet snort. Riah leaned into him. He put an arm around her and went for the easiest of Ellie's questions, though his answer wasn't exactly honest: "We haven't set a date yet." It would be too complicated to give the date they'd agreed on and then possibly have to backtrack until they knew whether or not there would even be a wedding. He had a feeling Ellie would start steamrolling Riah into plans as soon as she could. "I only asked her last night, and a lot of it will depend on when I can get leave or, if I can't, when my deployment ends."

Ellie's face suddenly fell. Then she changed the subject a bit. "I suppose you'll go home to Canada to get married," she said mournfully.

He let Riah take that one. "Actually, we've decided it's probably easier to get married here. Travelling back and forth to arrange a wedding in Canada, let alone the logistics of getting both our families and our friends there, is more than I want to bother with."

Woodcomb leaned in and whispered something in Ellie's ear. She smiled and nodded at him, and Casey's eyes narrowed, wondered what the woman plotted. While Ellie peppered them with questions about whether or not they wanted a church wedding, whether they wanted a big or small wedding, and a thousand other questions Riah struggled to answer, Woodcomb disappeared into the apartment he shared with Ellie and Bartowski. Casey was trying to gauge how best to successfully escape when Ellie's fiancé came back out with a bottle of champagne and some glasses. Woodcomb handed the glasses around and opened the bottle before filling them.

Casey resigned himself to being toasted and spending a little of the precious time left to them with the other couple. They took seats at the table, and Casey picked up Riah's hand. When she neatly turned the discussion to the other couple's wedding plans, though, he was reminded once more of one of the reasons he loved her.

They hadn't been seated long when Bartowski and Walker came through the archway into the courtyard. "What's the occasion?" Chuck asked, looking at them curiously.

Since it wasn't something Casey wanted to make a joke of, he lifted the hand he held and shifted his grip so his partner and the kid could see Riah's ring. Bartowski's face lit like a light bulb. Walker, on the other hand, looked like she did on the rare occasions he actually managed to get past her defenses with a right jab. She was a bit stiff with her congratulations, and Casey wondered if it was because she and Bartowski were still playing keep away. Chuck hugged Riah, and then Walker did as well, though Casey could tell his partner wasn't as happy for them as the other three had been. Knowing better than to even try hugging him, Chuck shook Casey's hand. Woodcomb went inside to get two more glasses, and Chuck asked, "So when are you getting married?"

He and Riah went back through the answers they had given Ellie and her fiancé. Casey let Riah take most of the questions, though he began to notice she looked less and less happy, said less and less. He observed her closely, noted she seemed lost in thought. He lifted the hand he held and turned it so that he touched his lips to her palm. She seemed to come back from whatever she was thinking, and he watched her, thought of what they could be doing as the minutes ticked away. He stood, told the others he had to get ready to leave. Riah stood as well. They were congratulated once more, and then he led her home.

Casey took her upstairs without turning on the lights where he began stripping her clothes from her. She shoved at his own clothes, and he helped her where he could. He ran his hands over her, followed with his mouth, and she returned the favor. There was a bit of urgency because they were running out of time. He had no idea when he would see her again, and for the first time there was a certain amount of reluctance to go off on a new assignment.

Riah slept when he unwrapped himself from her and quietly slipped out to the shower. He dressed and repacked his bags, and then he went back to the bed. He debated waking her, heard Emma's order in his head. Riah lay there as he had often imagined her while he'd been gone, warm, drowsy, her hair a tangle across his pillow. He should let her sleep, but he leaned over and kissed her. She wound her arms around his neck.

"I'll call you when I finish my meeting with Beckman," he told her.

She tightened her arms around him and kissed him. "Love you," she murmured sleepily.

"Love you, too," he told her, and ran a soft hand down her cheek.

"Don't get killed," she added.

"I'll try not to," he said wryly and leaned in for one last kiss.

Outside, he stashed his bags in the rental before he returned to the complex and walked toward Kavanaugh's quarters. He was about to check his last task off his list. It was easy to pick the lock, despite being out of practice. He hadn't lied to Bartowski; Walker was better at it, but she did it more often. The security system, the same as the one in his and Riah's apartment, was child's play. After he disabled it, he made his way silently down the hall.

The man sprawled on his stomach in his bed. Casey settled the SIG's muzzle just behind the man's left ear and jabbed to wake him before he leaned down and said with as much menace as he could muster, "When you next see Mariah, take a good, long look at her left hand. As a result of what you see, you will show her due respect." He emphasized the orders he then delivered by shoving Kavanaugh's head with the SIG: "You will not touch her. You will not call her names. You will not taunt her. In fact, you will not speak to her unless you absolutely have to—and for the most part, you better find you don't have to."

Kavanaugh remained still. "Or what?"

Casey felt the smile. "Many things could happen to you," he promised, pressed the SIG a little harder into his skull, "even things no one would suspect might be intentional—but definitely would be." He let that sink in a moment, and from the way Kavanaugh flinched and rolled his eyes at him, Casey was certain his reputation had preceded him. "My finger might twitch while we have another conversation like this one—and if you even look at her sideways, we will have another conversation similar to this one." He paused. "Or I could decide to practice a few innovative and fatal interrogation techniques, arrange for an accident or friendly fire on an operation." He breathed in like a man savoring delicacies and added, "So many, many options." He pushed the SIG even harder against the man's head, and dropped his voice into the dangerous tones that scared the piss out of most men. "Treat Riah as if she were the Queen of England and you're a loyal subject, or I will end you. Got that?"

Kavanaugh nodded faintly, and Casey, because he could, pushed two tranq darts in his neck below his ear. He wasn't giving him a chance to retaliate. When the other man was unconscious, he took the darts and let himself out.