October 1979 – Fairfield, CT

Michael smiled ruefully when he came in to their room and saw Angela. She was lying on her stomach in her nightgown reading a book. He crawled up on all fours behind her. "Hey, beautiful," he said in a deep voice.

Angela waited a beat or two before responding. "Hmm?" she said absently.

He frowned, and read the top of the page "The History of Vodka?" Michael laughed skeptically behind Angela's ear. "You know, there are more stimulating things to read before bed." He bent down to place gentle kisses down the middle of her exposed back.

She smiled widely, but didn't look away from the page. "Just give me a minute," she giggled, twisting her torso to deal with the pleasure.

Michael grunted, and rolled over next to her on his back. "Come on, Angela. How interesting can Russian potatoes be?"

"That depends on what you get for knowing the answer," she inflected with a quick raise to her brows, but still continuing to read.

He stared at her drolly. "Come again?"

She sighed, exaggeratedly, and looked at him. "One of our clients just acquired an international vodka brand, and alcohol is an emotional drink. I'm trying to pull at some heartstrings, and I've got to know what I'm dealing with."

"Mmm - Well, if I were you, I'd sell it to really hot chicks in little red dresses down at The Catcall. - We can do the commercial together! Here, let's rehearse!" he rolled on his side, and reached for her waist.

She laughed, but turned away from him, grabbing her book to read it on her other side. At his quick exhale of shock, she smirked over her shoulder, and backed up solidly into him. "I seem to remember something like this…" Then she looked puzzled, "But where would the camera go?"

Michael laughed and kissed her neck, but she kept reading. He quipped, "What? You need music? Do we have to figure out the soundtrack now?"

Angela laugh-whined, half-serious, but didn't take her eyes off the page. "Michael, I'm trying to understand this. I really need a little bit longer."

Michael's jaw set, and he just watched her stare at the book. "So, you just want to read for a bit?"

"Yes."

"And you don't care what I do 'till you're done?"

"Nope."

"Oh, good," he said in calculated delight. He went back to kissing her neck and shoulder, and rubbing his hand along her hip. She let out a defeated sigh.

"Michael," she said, with only semi-fake strain. "I really need to read this."

"Oh, take your time," he said airily. He placed soft kisses underneath her ear, causing her to shiver. He grinned, and put his hand on her stomach, pulling her close.

Oh, that feels good… Why won't he just listen to me? It's starting to tick me off…Mmmm... Her head naturally tipped back, enjoying his continued attention to her neck.

Finally, she forced her eyes open, and pushed herself to a sit up. "Michael…let the record show that you are very, very good at that." He smiled coyly, in apparent satisfaction of her praise. "But I need to finish this."

"Yes, but does it have to be now?" he said trailing a finger up her leg.

"Yes!"

"Because…we have a whole train ride tomorrow morning." He scooted up higher. "It's already long and boring…" he smiled, and put an arm on the other side of her.

Leaning down to mumble against her chest, he continued, "And I promise, the whole time, I won't do this," He gently scootched a knee between her legs. "Or this…"

Angela made an eye roll that even she couldn't tell was from annoyance or surrender.

"Michael," she smiled, trying to stay calm, in one way or another. She cleared her throat. "As I was saying, your efforts here are notable, to be sure," she took his hand from her breast and held it in hers. "But I really want to finish this. It shouldn't take long. Maybe 20, 30 minutes, tops."

He let out a loud sigh of irritation, and flopped back over to his side of the bed. "Really, Angela? I'm going to Cairns next month. We won't be able to do this 'till probably March of the next decade!"

At that, Angela regained awareness as to the cause of her eyeroll. "Michael. I'm going to miss you, too, but I still need to finish this. But now that you bring it up, I was thinking, maybe we could talk more while you're gone. I've missed that, talking with you." She smiled at him. "We always seem to find other, pleasant diversions, but I miss hanging out, sharing a meal, playing cards, dancing…"

"You want to do that over the phone?" he said dryly.

Angela sighed, and tried not to glare at him. "I'm just saying, if you liked my personality in the diner the first night we met, why do you have to grab a boob to be interested now?"

He swirled his index finger in the air. "Actually, at that point, I'd already-"

"Yes, I remember," she rushed to negate his point. "But does four months apart have to be a dry spell with us? Can we not get closer in other ways?"

He sighed, "Then? Yes, that'd be nice. I look forward to you actually picking up when I call you from the field." She sat expressionless through his barb. "But now? Why do we have to wait? If it's only going to take you 20 to 30 minutes to finish, then why can't you do that on the train?"

"One, because I meant 20 to 30 minutes tonight, in addition to what I read on the train tomorrow. Two, because it would be nice if you simply respected me saying I had to work." Her eyebrows went up as his went down. "Come to think of it, that'd be one hell of a turn on…"

He continued to glare at her. "Well, I guess I just don't do it for you anymore." He swung his legs off the bed.

"Michael, come on," she entreated.

"Whatever," he said quietly, and walked heavily into the bathroom.

Angela let out a breath, and picked up her book.

Yeah…


Mar 1980 – JFK

"Look Jonathan! There's Daddy!" Angela said animatedly. She let go of her son, and he ran to meet Michael at the gate. Angela stood up from where she'd been crouching and walked the ten yards she needed to close the distance in her heels.

She released a wide smile when she got close. Walking right into Michael, he grabbed her around the waist with the arm that wasn't holding their son. "Glad you're back," she smiled next to his face, before kissing him.

"Good to be back," he let her go, and picked up his carry-ons from the ground where he dumped them when Jonathan had run up to him. Slinging them over his free shoulder, Michael said, "Is anybody hungry? I need a burger like you wouldn't believe."

Angela laughed, "Australians don't make burgers?"

Michael shook his head sadly, "It's not the same."

She tipped up a smile, "Louis'?"

"Yes, please!"


They got their food and sat down. Angela didn't make a habit of going to Louis' because it never failed to remind her about that night she came with Greg. But they did have the best burgers in Connecticut, and the man wanted a burger. She knew it was silly to still be hung up on a stupid college mishap, but truthfully, that night had really hurt. As much fun as she'd actually had at Louis', that night ultimately meant humiliation and rejection to Angela, and she wouldn't even sit at that same table.

Angela sipped her Pepsi. "Alright, husband, what's the second thing on the agenda?" she said with a quick raise to her brows. She'd taken the day off to welcome Michael home. Four months really is a long time. They'd tried to make conversation over the phone. She'd made a specific effort to answer when he called, even while she was at work. They'd finally figured out the 14 hour time difference, but the whole thing was still a lot of effort. He couldn't control the dive times; jellyfish did what they wanted. She understood. But Michael didn't seem to understand that she was working half a world away, and she wasn't running the show, either. Their conversations usually ended up tight and bitter, and soon became almost obligatory for both of them. Angela was surprised to discover the drama was no longer eased with him in the field. The constraints were just different. At home or abroad, it always came down to expectation. At least the strain lessened the frequency of our calls.

Michael smirked back at her. "Well, before that, wife, I have some excellent news, if you'll join me in a toast?" He raised his Pepsi glass, and Angela followed suit. "The GM flew to Cairns last week, and ran through some of the raw footage. He watched us dive, and took the crew and I out to eat. It was there, at a five-star, French restaurant overlooking the Coral Sea," My arm's getting tired, "where the old man announced that he loved our work, and that he was promoting me to Producer."

Angela's face lit up. Yes! She'd been more excited for Michael's professional success than he was. "Congratulations, baby!" She clinked plastic cups with him, and stood up enough to lean in for a congratulatory kiss.

"Thank you! And the best part is, I can hire my own team!"

Angela looked confused. "You don't want Tim and the guys? Don't you work well together?"

"Oh, yeah. Yeah, we do. I would never bust us up. But I would add on to our little group." He paused for effect. "I'm gonna hire a video editor!"

Angela blinked. "Wait. What?"

"Yeah! No more - well, less - endless hours staring at film in the studio. Way more time in the field." She'd never seen such a gigantic smile on anyone.

"Oh…" Angela tried to be lighthearted, but honestly didn't know how she felt. Is this good or bad? "Well, congratulations, again, honey. I know you hate that."

"Sh-yeah…" Michael shook his head and popped one of Jonathan's fries in his mouth. "It was the best news ever."

"So, what does that mean, as far as your job changing?"

"Basically, as long as I can get funding, we can shoot. To get funding, we have to finish the projects we shoot, and they have to be amazing. So I, obviously, can't shoot 100% of the time. But once I hire a video editor, I'm going to have to spend a lot of time in the studio showing them exactly what I'm looking for." He shrugged. "Just the way it goes. But then - as soon as I feel confident that we're sympatico - I'm going to leave the boredom to the editor, and be mostly researching, planning, and leading the expeditions. Not gonna lie:" he sucked in an airy breath. "I'm thinkin' Rwanda."

"Rwanda," Angela repeated blankly.

"Yeah. Angola is out, but Central Africa is still loaded with gorillas. Rwanda and Uganda are prime places to find them."

Angela took a long sip of Pepsi, wishing it was spiked.

"And Rwanda and Uganda, they're more stable, politicly speaking?"

Michael scrunched his face flippantly. "Meh, everyone is more stable than Angola right now. They've got the world's superpowers running a proxy war there. But that's not the point. The point is: Africa is back on the table!"

Angela smiled at him the best she could. No reason to flip out before I know anything.