Maggie glanced up at Mike as they walked down the corridor side by side, the FBI agent leading the way. He was staring straight ahead, his face a mask, but she could see he was trembling and taking deep laboured breaths.
The agent stopped outside a heavy mahogany door, removing a key from his pocket. They waited as he unlocked the door and pushed it open. Maggie took Mike's arm and led him into the room, turning back to the agent as she passed him.
"I'll be right out here, ma'am," the young federal cop said quietly and she nodded, smiling gratefully and closing the door.
She led Mike to the bed and pushed him down. He hadn't made eye contact with her since they left the main hall, and her heart was breaking for him. As he continued to stare straight ahead, she slipped off his shoes and his jacket; he offered no resistance.
Standing in front of him, she undid his tie and pulled it free of his already unbuttoned collar. Then she sat beside him on the bed and put her arms around him. Suddenly, feeling her embrace, any pretense of control fell away and he collapsed against her, sobbing. She pulled his head against her chest and started to rock him gently.
Weeping herself, unable to contain the indescribable anguish she was also feeling, she pulled him down onto the bed and held him until there were no tears left.
# # # # #
Steve stood as if rooted to the spot, unable to tear his eyes away from the door that Mike has just walked through; the door that Mike had just walked out of his life through. He felt a hand softly on his shoulder and turned to see Dan standing beside him, looking equally overcome.
Steve tried a feeble smile. "Did you get to talk to him?"
Dan nodded. "Yeah, he pulled me aside about a half hour ago. I can't believe –"
"Let's go see how Jeannie's doing," the older man cut him off, putting an arm around his shoulders and steering him towards the centre of the room where Mike's daughter was still standing.
She looked up as they approached, her eyes almost overwhelmingly sad, and she smiled warmly at them. Steve smiled back then put his hand on the back of her neck and pulled her head into his chest, wrapping his arms around her. He felt her shudder as she slipped her arms around his waist and hugged him.
"Come on," Steve said to them both, "let's go find a place to sit down."
His arm still around her, they made their way to one of the empty couches against a wall and sat heavily. No one said anything for several long moments then Dan looked up. "I'll go get us something to drink," he said vaguely and got to his feet almost in a daze, walking off.
Jeannie turned to Steve, trying to smile. "We did the right thing, didn't we?" she asked quietly.
He stared at her, a fond smile slow to emerge. "You know we did."
Several people seemed to be crossing the floor towards them and Steve tore his eyes from Jeannie to look up, smiling when he recognized his former colleagues. Haseejian, his own eyes clouded and grave, gestured towards the couch and nearby chairs. "Do you mind?"
With a quick glance at Jeannie, who smiled back encouragingly, Steve chuckled. "Of course not."
"Great," said Tanner, a glass of beer in one hand, "let's pull another couple of couches up, I have a feeling it's gonna get crowded over here." He and a few of the others wrestled two more couches and some chairs into a rough circle.
Dan reappeared with three of bottles of champagne and a handful of stemmed glasses. It didn't take long for the small talk to take over, the 'rehashment' of the ceremony and reception the dominant topic. And it seemed the more Jeannie, Steve and Dan talked about Mike, the more they relaxed and a warm feeling of contentment began to replace the despair.
# # # # #
"What are you thinking about?" she asked gently as she lay in his arms, both flushed and sweaty, a sheet partly wrapped around both their bodies.
Without looking at her, Mike smiled fondly. "You," he said with a happy sigh. He pulled her closer and she buried her head against his chest. She ran her fingertips delicately over the scars that scored his chest. He chuckled lightly. "That tickles."
She looked at him with a furrowed brow and he turned his head to meet her eyes.
"Really?" she asked, perplexed.
He nodded, smiling. "The skin is still pretty sensitive there and it tickles."
She slid her hand across his chest and held him. He suddenly felt her hot tears against his skin. "What?" he asked gently.
"I'm just so grateful you're still here. I really thought I was flying to San Francisco to say goodbye." She rested the side of her face against his chest, listening to the strong beat of his heart.
"Not for a long time, my darling, not for a long time…."
# # # # #
"So who'da thought Mike could dance?" Haseejian said to no one in particular. "I, for one, was very impressed." Several of the others chuckled. "You held out on us, Steve, you never told us about his smooth moves." Haseejian glanced mischievously at Jeannie.
"What? Wait a minute, when would Mike and I have gone dancing together...? … I mean – wait a minute, you know what I mean…" The laughter was getting louder and louder and Steve was getting more and more flustered.
"After all, it is San Francisco," Lessing said quietly with a chuckle.
"Wait, what?!" Steve's protest was overwhelmed by the rising tide of laughter. Jeannie looked at Dan and giggled. Taking pity, the young cop reached over with a bottle of champagne and started to top up Steve's glass, which gave the university professor enough time to regroup. "Okay, you all know what I meant –"
"It's okay, Steve," Dan Healey said patronizingly, patting his former colleague's knee, "you don't have to explain yourself."
With a frustrated sigh and faux peeved look, Steve sat back and briefly flashed his middle finger, mouthing an expletive. The laughter got even louder. Shaking his head and smiling, he glanced at Jeannie, relieved to see the troubled look receding from her eyes.
"Ladies and gentlemen," came an announcement over the speakers, "it's time to call it a night, but before we go, there is one more request. We were asked to play this song last, so here goes. Good night, ladies and gentlemen, you've been wonderful and we hope we have too." The trombone player backed away from the mic and Jenna Wright stepped forward.
As the band began to play, Steve froze and his smile instantly disappeared. Suddenly overwhelmed, he gasped for breath. Then he stopped, and very slowly an ironic, loving grin split his face. Shaking his head, he leaned forward and stared at the floor, starting to laugh as The Carpenters "Close To You" filled the room.
# # # # #
Maggie giggled suddenly and Mike looked at her. They were still wrapped in each other's arms. "What?"
"I was just thinking about the conversation we had with John. 'So,'" she dropped her voice, mimicking the FBI agent, "'we want you two to exit the party around midnight but we're not quite sure when we'll be leaving after that. We don't want to make it too easy if there's anyone watching. So you'll have to find something to do for a few hours till we leave.'"
She laughed throatily. "I swear, you looked at him like he'd just told you I was made of cheese." She dropped her voice again, this time imitating Mike. "'John, it's our wedding night; I think we can find something to do.' Oh my god, I thought John was going to crawl under the table he was so embarrassed."
Mike chuckled, "Well, I was right, wasn't I?" He pulled her closer and sighed contentedly.
Her laughter dying, she looked up at him. "Having any second thoughts?" she asked softly.
He didn't move for several seconds, then looked down at her and smiled lovingly. "About us?" She nodded. "Not a one." He took a deep breath and let it out slowly. "I just wish it wasn't under these circumstances, that's all."
She tightened her grip on his chest. "Me too," she sighed sadly.
There was a soft knock on the door.
# # # # #
It was a couple of hours till daybreak and the main hall was still half full. They had gathered in large groups and copious amounts of alcohol had been consumed, but because everyone was staying at the resort, no one was concerned.
Hugh Donaldson, a Robbery inspector and amazing guitar player, had joined their circle, sitting beside Jeannie on one of the couches, picking out chords on his acoustic. As the conversation drifted from subject to subject, he punctuated various anecdotes and observations with musical rifts.
When a couple of the guys asked for certain songs to be played so they could sing along, something twigged in Steve and he turned to Jeannie beside him. "You never told me what song it was?" he said, his words only slightly slurred.
Jeannie's head turn was a little slower than usual. "What?" she asked.
"The song?" he said again, and when she looked at him blankly, he repeated emphatically, "The song – the one that's responsible for all this." He gestured around the room.
"Oh," she said slowly, elongating the word. She shook her head. "Nope, sorry. I'm not gonna tell you."
"Why not?"
"Because you'll just laugh at me."
"Now why would I laugh at you?"
"Because you'll think I'm just a silly little…"
"Girl?"
She glared at him with her lips pursed.
"Okay, then at least tell me who sang it? Come on, I used to be a detective, remember? You've got my interest piqued and I'm not going to let this go, so, you know…?" He shrugged.
She sighed dramatically. "All right. John Denver," she said quietly, trying not to draw attention.
Steve snorted, then caught himself and smiled apologetically.
"See!" she said in a harsh whisper, glancing around at the others. "I knew you'd do that."
"I'm sorry, it's just…. John Denver?" Steve said, still incredulous but trying to sound apologetic. When she didn't say anything, he continued, with a valiant attempt to keep the amusement out of his voice, "'Rocky Mountain High'? 'Thank God I'm A Country Boy'? … 'Leaving On A Jet Plane'?" He was well aware he was really beginning to tick her off but he couldn't stop himself. It was a mixture of hubris and alcohol right now; a deadly combination, he knew.
Exasperated, knowing she had to shut him up one way or another, she turned to Donaldson beside her and whispered in his ear. He listened attentively then nodded with approval. Steve thought he heard him say, "Oh, that's a beautiful song…"
"Thank you," Jeannie said pointedly, turning slightly back in Steve's direction.
Donaldson began to pick out the chords, slowly and effortlessly, and Jeannie could sense Steve's attention refocus. Everyone within earshot suddenly quieted, and all eyes turned in the direction of the musician as he began to sing, his voice as smooth and natural as his playing.
"Lady, are you crying? Do the tears belong to me? Did you think our time together was all gone? Lady, you've been dreaming. I'm as close as I can be. And I swear to you our time has just begun…."
Steve dropped his head, and Jeannie could see his bottom lip trembling. Blindly he reached out, wrapped his arm around her shoulders and pulled her to his side.
# # # # #
The crowd had thinned out noticeably, with only the diehards remaining. Steve and Jeannie were still sitting on the couch; Haseejian, Tanner, Lessing and Healey had remained with them. Though nothing had been said, they all knew what was going on. The conversation had died out and it seemed like everyone was just waiting for the inevitable.
Dan slowly crossed the room, his step heavy and his eyes down. As he got to the couch, he turned and sat wearily, then slowly looked at Steve and Jeannie and tried to smile. He took a deep breath and cleared his throat. "They're gone," he said quietly.
Jeannie caught her breath with a tiny whimper and Steve closed his eyes. She burrowed her head against his chest and began to cry. His eyes still closed, Steve reached out and pulled Dan closer, as silent tears streamed down his cheeks.