Last chapter guys. Hope you like it :-)
Impenetrable
Chapter Four
26th December
They're back in the air again. Heading home to Hope Island and they're all a little frayed.
Gi is seated opposite Linka and her incessant chatting is somewhat soothing. They discuss light, fluffy topics and the Russian eventually gets a couple of hours of broken sleep. Not enough to wake up feeling refreshed, but sufficient in raising her energy levels.
They touch-down in the late afternoon. Ma-Ti stuffs-up the landing due to the wind and light rain and everyone is jolted out of their seats. Wheeler gives Ma-Ti a vigorous round of applause as he powers down and Linka can't help but smile at their pilot's bashful expression.
She spends a few hours in the Common Room with Gi, curled up on the lounge and watching TV. The urge to sleep is strong but Linka has enough experience with jet lag to know that the longer she holds out, the better off she'll be.
Gi waits until the movie credits are rolling. Biding her time, like a bird of prey. She shuffles her body to the side and props the side of her face against the the soft leather, regarding her best friend solemnly. Linka anticipates the conversation before Gi has even opened her mouth.
Gi asks the question. Again. A seemingly inoffensive and innocuous one but for Linka, it is like signalling a bull with a red flag. Her temper flares and she can barely keep her response level. Heat rushes to her face as she acknowledges with mounting dismay that her team mates must assume she is weak, or not capable of fulfilling her duties.
But she is not weak.
Because she is independent.
Strong.
She's impervious to negativity and damn-it, she's impenetrable.
And she is fine, she hisses at Gi. Stop asking. Just stop it. Leave me alone.
Gi's face tightens and for a moment Linka thinks she's going yell but she doesn't. Gi turns and focuses back on the television, her expression as cloudy as Linka's mood
Linka grits her teeth. She feels a headache coming on. She doesn't want to dredge up the memories. She doesn't want to remember. She doesn't want to talk about it.
But regardless of what she doesn't want to do, her throat tightens and she feels the torrent of emotions spiralling her upwards. She's losing her beloved control; the only currency she holds and values beyond all others.
Linka stands abruptly, knocking the TV remote to the floor as Gi's frustrated voice shouts out after her retreating figure. Linka spins on her heels and strides away, leaving Gi sitting stunned and dismayed at the knowledge that her best friend was falling apart at the seams.
It is early evening and a simple salad is prepared for dinner. They drop wearily into the assortment of dining chairs and bar stools and quickly realise they are one-team member short.
Kwame offers to seek her out but Gi shakes her head.
She's a hot mess. Just leave her for now. She needs some time to herself.
Kwame frowns, glancing at Wheeler as if to confirm whether he's to blame. After all, he usually is. Wheeler shakes his head and shrugs, leaning against the kitchen counter and glancing in the direction of Linka's hut.
The Russian stands under the shower for far too long. The scalding water feels almost therapeutic. She feels horrendously guilty about her altercation with Gi. She knows she owes Gi an apology regarding her outburst.
The usual post-shower routine is followed, utilising her small arsenal of facial scrubs, moisturisers, body butters, hand creams and tooth paste. In that order. Always in that order. Because where would she be without routine?
Linka rubs her face tiredly and exits the bathroom, readying herself for bed. She steps back and her calves touch the bedside table. Her mothers bird figurine wobbles precariously and Linka's heart stops for a moment. She gasps as the figurine topples over and disappears, followed by an audible cracking sound as it hits the slate floor.
"Oh no, oh no. No, no, no," she moans, getting onto her hands and knees and pressing her ear to the floor, reaching under the furniture. Her fingertips are still numb as she finally grabs hold of the little ceramic keepsake with shaking hands. "Nyet…"
The head is now missing. She runs her finger over the jagged edges around the neck and blinks back tears. She wipes her eyes with the back of her hand and sits, crumpled against the edge of her bed. She bends forward and hangs her head in dismay; her legs outstretched and the figurine clutched tightly in the lap. Silent tears continue to fall.
The door opens and she looks up, wiping her eyes again as Wheeler closes the door softly behind him. He stops and his mouth drops open; surprised (and a little shocked) to see her slumped on the cold floor of all places, clad only in a singlet and underwear with puffy eyes and a tear-stained face.
"Babe?"
Just one simple word, but it's tone and delivery represented several words. Several phrases, all concerned. All worried.
Babe.
Her automatic response would be outrage. It's her safety net, her go-to reaction when it comes to Wheeler, especially after daring to enter the sanctuary of her hut unannounced.
Anger is easy with him, because unlike the others, he doesn't lay down and take it. He always bites back, gives as good as he gets. An A-grade, quality verbal sparring partner.
In her world of perfection and order, Wheeler is her little dose of chaos. She feels alive around him, unconstrained.
Don't you knock, durak?
Get out Yankee.
What do you want?
But today is different. The usual retorts die on her lips. The tide has turned. She sniffs, her shoulders trembling as she clutched her broken figurine tightly in her hands.
"I broke Mama's bird," was all she could whisper as she pushed herself up off the floor. She stood, almost defiant in her efforts to remain impenetrable but her legs are unsteady and her bottom lip is trembling.
Linka drops her gaze to the floor. Wheeler is still hesitating by the door and watching her quietly, unsure of how to proceed.
She doesn't want his pity.
But she tilts her head to the side as her eyes travel once again to his arms, thick and ropy with muscle under the sleeve of his white t-shirt.
Linka finally makes the connection. The realisation that his arms have always communicated strength and safety, security and comfort. Something she so desperately craves and refused to admit to herself.
Until now.
She breaks.
Her composure falls apart and she sags against the wall; her hands immediately covering her face as great, hitching sobs overcome her. The torrent has been unleashed and she turns away from him as she starts to wail uncontrollably.
She doesn't hear him approach but feels those arms wrap around her shoulders, enveloping her and drawing her gently against him. He presses his chin against the top of her head and she squirms closer to him, seeking his warmth.
She clings to him, her body trembling as she grips the material of his shirt in her hands. The Russian is crying openly now, her face pressed hard against his chest and she's saturated the front of his shirt. He doesn't seem to mind.
Her knees buckle and she sinks downwards. Wheeler grunts as his body bows forward. He catches her around the waist and hauls her back up again. She's like a rag-doll; loose and limp against him and so unlike the Linka he knows.
She feels his mouth against the pulse in her neck as he readjusts her slightly. He's holding her weight up just enough so that her toes are skimming the floor. She wraps her arms around his shoulders and holds on to him for dear life, still sobbing loudly because she'll break into a million pieces if he makes the decision to let go.
He leans back slightly and watches on as she finally gets her breathing under control. The Russian rests her cheek against his shoulder and huddles closer. Her face is blotchy, her eyes are puffy and tear-stained but she's still beautiful and for the first time… vulnerable.
Damp hair is pushed tenderly away from her forehead and vibrant blue eyes lock onto her own. She blinks, wide-eyed and unaccustomed to this level of scrutiny.
"Stop fighting it," he says softly, his breath warm against the side of her face. He reaches forward with gentle fingers, wiping fresh tears away with the pad of his thumb. "You're not a machine, babe. Okay?"
She sniffs and nods, but doesn't relax her grip on him.
He smiles and presses a kiss against her forehead, still feeling the tremors wracking her body even after her tears have subsided. "C'mon," he says. "You're scarin' the shit outta' me."
She flattens her palm against his heart; a little self conscious now as he releases her. He turns her body and grips her shoulders, pushing her gently towards the bed.
"Thank you, Yankee."
"Yeah, well don't go expectin' me to be all chivalrous and sensitive with you from now on," he mutters against her neck and she splutters with indignation. "I've gotta' reputation to maintain."
She can't help herself. Linka gives a choked laugh and wipes her face as he drops down onto the edge of her mattress, pulling her down beside him; his arm wrapped protectively around her shoulders.
He shuffles them back until he's sitting against the headboard. He pulls her into his lap and she sits cradled against him with her long legs draped over his and her cheek against his shoulder. His arms wrap around her again and Linka sighs as the gentle weight of his hand rests against her waist. The other hand lies flat across her upper thigh, stroking her skin in soothing, circular motions.
"I'm sorry," she whispers softly, her voice muffled against his chest.
"S'all right," he replies with a shrug. "You're not wearin' much so I'll forgive you."
His words allow her a brief epiphany that she's only clad in briefs and a singlet. But she's so comfortable and drowsy and feeling at peace that she's beyond the point of caring.
Linka's eyelids become heavy as she's lulled by the rise and fall of Wheeler's chest. Her breathing is now slow and steady.
But before sleep claims her; before Gi checks in on her at first light and finds them both asleep; Wheeler curled around her body and holding her tightly, the realisation hits Linka like a tonne of bricks.
That she doesn't have to be independent.
She doesn't want to be strong.
She can't be impervious to negativity.
And she's definitely not impenetrable. Not by any means.
And for the first time in her life, maybe that's okay.