Chapter 10. A New Country

Content warning: Contains sexual content which may be unsuitable for readers under the age of 18.

Bucky

It hadn't even been a full day since we crossed the border into Canada after taking a ferry from Cape Vincent, New York. The journey since then had been a marathon of flights and drives to reach our final destination, the place Jane and I would hide until her ex-husband's trial began. After the ferry docked and we cleared customs we met RCMP Sergeant Terence Billings in Point Alexandria on Wolfe Island where the St. Lawrence River entered Lake Ontario. A pleasant man he shook our hands and instructed us to come with him in his unmarked vehicle, driving us a short distance away to an empty field.

"We're trying to muddy your trail as much as we can," he said as we waited for a helicopter to arrive. "CBSA uses facial recognition technology at airports but not at all port crossings, especially a less busy one like this crossing. There won't be a facial record of you using this crossing, just your names on your passports. You'll go back to CFB Kingston and be driven to your next destination from there. They will drive you to another police detachment where you will pick up your vehicle and learn your actual destination, as it's been kept on a need-to-know basis."

"That seems like a lot of misdirection to me," I replied.

"Unfortunately, considering the nature of the people who may come looking for you, it's necessary," he said. "They do have individuals sympathetic to them even here in Canada."

The sound of an approaching helicopter drew our attention and we watched as it landed nearby. Billings walked us to the military helicopter and confirmed with the pilot and the RCMP officer inside that they were taking us to the base where we would be sent on the next leg of our journey. He wished us good luck and stepped away from the helicopter's downwash. Once again we put the headphones on and the RCMP officer extended his hand to us.

"Hi, I'm Sergeant Matthew Ferris, I'll be escorting you to CFB Kingston, then driving you to a place just at the edge of our detachment's jurisdiction. Miss Matheson, Mr. Ellis, you will be receiving your final destination and vehicle there. It's been kept on a need to know basis for your protection."

I looked at Jane; he didn't know where we were going either. Perhaps it was better that way. I looked at the pilot as Ferris followed my gaze.

"He's on a different frequency, can't hear us," he replied, to my unheard question. "As far as he knows you're dignitaries receiving police limousine service via military helicopter. It doesn't happen often, but it does happen. He has been vetted for any questionable activity and he's clean, as am I."

As we approached CFB Kingston, Ferris told us a little bit about the area. Kingston itself was the first capital city of Canada when the country was first formed in the 1840s. It was home to Royal Military College and Queen's University, and was a major fort during the war of 1812 against the United States. I looked at Sergeant Ferris, puzzled.

"What war was that?" I asked.

Ferris looked at me as Jane put her hand on my knee and spoke. "That's the war where Canada burned down the White House. We were technically the British as we were still a British colony but the people who did it identified as Canadians."

I smirked. "They don't teach that in our history classes."

"You're Canadian, Miss Matheson?" asked Ferris.

She nodded. "From out west. Kingston is also where the Tragically Hip are from, aren't they?" She looked at me while I sat back then back at Ferris. "I introduced him to their music."

"That's true," confirmed Ferris. "Did you know the lead singer for Steppenwolf was from here as well as Bryan Adams? Several other bands are from here as well. Pretty cool for a small city to have so many musical citizens who did well. I'm from here myself. Dan Aykroyd has a house north of the city and we see him around from time to time."

I grinned at Jane and the sergeant dropping tidbits of information on me; it was kind of sweet coming from Jane, kind of irritating coming from the sergeant. The helicopter turned sideways as the pilot turned it towards its landing spot at the base. It felt like our stomachs dropped as we both looked out the window to see the ground below us then the aircraft righted and the pilot hovered before lowering down to the ground. It had been a long time, when I was last in Afghanistan, since I felt that sensation during a helicopter flight. The pilot gave a hand signal for us to disembark and Ferris took one of Jane's bags as she took the other, while I grabbed both of mine. Lowering our heads we moved away from the helicopter to a plain car with a driver in it. Putting our bags in the back Ferris opened the back door for us while he got in front, nodding at the uniformed driver.

"We're taking you to Peterborough where the head of the Investigative unit of the local police detachment will take over," said Ferris. "They have arranged for your accommodation and vehicle. An officer will be assigned to be your contact person if you have any issues."

"So you don't know where we're going?" asked Jane.

"Nope, it's better that way," said Ferris. "Less chance of being compromised."

Some time later, about 10 pm in the evening according to my watch, we pulled into the parking garage of the Peterborough Police Service, after being checked in by a uniformed officer. Inside the garage we stepped out, took our baggage out of the trunk and were introduced by Sergeant Ferris to the Chief of Police, the Inspector in charge of the Investigative Service, and a Captain from the ICAD unit (Intelligence, Crime Analyst, Asset Forfeiture, and Drugs), the unit that was responsible for investigating domestic terrorists in their jurisdiction. Ferris wished us good luck and we were taken by a dedicated elevator to a conference room with some couch seating. We noticed the blinds were drawn on the room, presumably to keep our faces secret. Captain Kelly Arnold brought us coffee and some sandwiches.

"You've had a long day already," he said. "You're probably starving."

"Thanks," I replied, taking one of the sandwiches and biting into it. "It has been non-stop since early afternoon."

Chief Derrick MacDonald leaned forward. "Only the three of us and the officer assigned to be your contact know your identities, Sergeant Barnes," he said. "Agent Odinson set this up with us directly but we set up the intermediary transportation on this side of the border and made sure it was done using your aliases. Any idea why Odinson thought sending you to Bobcaygeon was the right plan?"

I choked a little on my coffee. "Honestly, we weren't entirely sure he was going to do that," I replied. "Jane is Canadian and we just started dating a couple of weeks ago. She introduced me to The Tragically Hip and well, Bobcaygeon kind of became our song. Odinson heard me playing it so I told him about the song. I guess he figured an American militia wouldn't know about the song or the area."

All three men smiled slightly. "Well, he's probably right about that," said MacDonald. "Let's hope it's the right place to keep you both under the radar. Mrs. Walker ..."

"I'd rather you use Peterson," interrupted Jane. "I divorced John over a year ago and took on my mother's maiden name when I moved to New York. You can understand I don't want any affiliation with the man who tried to kill me."

"Of course, my apologies," replied the chief. "It's important when you're both staying in the community to not draw attention to yourselves. With your Canadian accent you should do alright but I am concerned that your fiancé's New York accent ..."

"Brooklyn," I interrupted. "There is a difference."

"With your Brooklyn accent people are going to notice and ask what you're doing in cottage country late in the season, as most New York visitors return before Labour Day and you're just arriving."

"What do you suggest?" I asked. "I personally thought what the FBI told us to say was pretty weak, that we were just taking an extended vacation at Jane's family cottage."

"I thought we could say we're there to document the fall colours of the area for artistic reasons," suggested Jane. "I do paint, watercolours mostly, although I haven't for the past year. The area is known for the fall foliage, isn't it? Bucky has worked undercover. We could just say that he's taking stress leave from his job. He's done enough different assignments that he could pick anyone of the legal ones as his occupation, right Reverend?"

I looked at her smile. "I briefly went undercover as an Episcopalian priest," I explained. "That's Anglican here, isn't it?"

"Yes, but then you run the risk of being asked to run a service at a nearby church and that puts you in the public eye," said Arnold.

"I was in the military," I stated. "I could say I'm having a PTSD relapse and need the peace and quiet to regain my sense of self."

"That might work," said MacDonald. "Kelly, do we know if there are any therapy groups out there for PTSD?"

Inspector Arnold looked it up on his phone and scrolled through several listings. "There are therapists who offer individual counselling but no groups. We could set you up with one of them on the supposition that you're continuing your therapy while your fiancée explores her artistic vision. Doctor-patient confidentiality rules would preclude them from giving your particulars out if anyone questions it. It's up to you if you wish to use the therapist legitimately. Without knowing your own history it might not be a bad idea to take a mental health break. People in our line of work do feel it more strongly."

A knock on the door interrupted us and Captain Arnold opened the door, letting in a plain clothes officer, a woman. She stepped forward offering her hand to Jane first then to me.

"Sergeant Jane Foster," she stated. "Yes, another Jane. I'll be your contact while you're living in Bobcaygeon. We were fortunate that a retired officer has a home there with a rental cottage on his property. He agreed to house you during your stay and is more than capable of providing protection. Although he won't know your true identities he knows you're here waiting to testify in a major trial."

"He can be trusted?" I asked.

"Oh yeah, he's my dad," she said. "43 years with this police service. I'll drive my own vehicle out there with you when we go tomorrow and introduce you personally. He can be a little grumpy to start with, but you'll warm up to him, I promise."

"Okay, do you have a safe house for us tonight?" I asked.

"My place," she said. "Gentlemen, is there anything else that needs to be decided?"

She looked with confidence at the other officers and they stood up, offering their hands to shake ours once more. Leading us back down into the parking garage we placed our bags in her trunk. I offered the front seat to Jane then got into the back. It seemed to be Sergeant Foster's personal vehicle as I saw no sign of police equipment inside, like one would find on a plain clothes car. As we drove the short distance to her house Sergeant Foster looked back at me in the rear view mirror.

"How is Agent Odinson these days?" she asked, then seeing the surprise on my face she smiled. "I've known him for a number of years. Met originally at a police conference in Washington, where he led a session about sovereign citizen groups and how they could lead to a domestic terrorism threat."

"He's good," I replied. "Just spent ten days training with him after coming off an undercover assignment where he was also undercover."

"You're the guy," she laughed. "He told me of a New York police officer who was just as method as he was when he was undercover. I know he was interested in having someone like that to partner with him on his latest assignment. I wish you both luck but the less we say about that the better."

"Do you know him well?" asked Jane, glancing at the dark haired woman.

"We've been off and on for a while," admitted Foster. "Both of us are pretty married to our work. I was surprised when he asked if he could hide you two at my dad's place."

She noticed my smirk as I explained. "Jane introduced me to The Tragically Hip and I've developed a liking to the song Bobcaygeon. Here I thought he got the idea from that. He never mentioned he had been there."

"Not surprised," remarked Foster. "He's pretty quiet about our relationship, as I usually am. My dad likes him, being from Sweden originally and Thor's heritage is Norwegian. Foster is my married name. My husband died in a car accident about 12 years ago."

She pulled up into the driveway of a nice house with a double attached garage that opened to let us in. Another car was parked inside. After turning the car off and taking our things out of the trunk she opened the door into the house then pressed the button that would close the garage door.

"The other car in the garage is the one you will drive tomorrow," she said. "It was being dropped off here when you arrived, which is why I was late. I will give you the keys in the morning."

Quickly she showed us the living room and kitchen then took us upstairs to a large bedroom with a queen sized bed, ensuite bathroom, and a TV.

"It's pretty well soundproofed," she stated. "Just if, you know ... Help yourself to anything in the kitchen for breakfast. I sleep pretty soundly so you can turn the TV on in the morning for the local news, if you wish. I'm sure with the long day you've already had you'll want to have a shower or a bath. Everything you need is in there. Goodnight."

She left us there and closed our bedroom door behind her. Immediately Jane came to me and I enclosed her in my arms. We hadn't been alone together since we left New York that afternoon. It certainly wasn't how either of us envisioned our reunion.

"I'm so glad you're with me," she said. "After realizing exactly what John had planned I felt devastated and even though Tony and Bruce tried to comfort me all I could think about was needing your arms around me."

Lifting her chin so I could see her face I kissed her softly on the lips. "When Thor got the call from them he came out to the firing range to find me. Right away he asked if I wanted to go into witness protection with you. I didn't even have to say yes, just asked if he could get me to you right away."

The thought of a bath appealed to us so we checked out the bathroom and found the tub would fit both of us, although it would be a little crowded. Jane produced some bath salts from one of her bags and I started up the water, pouring some of the salts in. She called to me from the bedroom to get right in and she would join me in a minute. I slid in up to my neck, even though my knees were out of the water then sat up when she came in naked with a lit candle and turned the bathroom light off. Placing it on the vanity counter so it reflected off of the mirror she held her hand to me as she stepped into the water, dropping down in between my bent knees.

"Mmmmm, this is nice," she hummed as she snuggled her back onto my chest. "Would have been better in my bathtub but this is better than not having a tub at all."

I lowered my face to her ear, kissing it gently, then whispering. "I missed you. The circumstances are different than we were expecting but it feels good to have you in my arms again."

She laid her head back on my shoulder and turned it slightly to look at me, then pressed her forehead into my cheek.

"I guess I have to get used to calling you Paul and you calling me Rachel," she murmured. "How do you do it? When you're undercover, I mean?"

"A lot of affirmations while looking at yourself in the mirror," I replied. "Hello Rachel. You're looking beautiful today, Rachel. Paul is crazy for you, Rachel." I smiled as she giggled and squeezed my forearm. "Seriously, that's how I did it for all my undercover assignments. The week before I went dark, I would look at myself in the mirror and call myself the new name over and over again. We only have hours to get used to our names because the situation changed so quickly but it's doable. At least they're good names. I've heard of some undercover operatives being assigned terrible names."

"Like what?"

I thought for a moment. "Dirk Bicker was assigned to a cop checking out human trafficking concerns at several strip clubs. The name was originally supposed to be Dirk Diggler." She turned and looked at me incredulously. "Seriously, his lieutenant thought it would be fitting because that was the name of an adult film star in the film Boogie Nights. As if anyone in that business wouldn't already know it. He had to get the union rep involved to change it even to Dirk Bicker. He was made within days, was lucky he didn't end up with a bullet in his head."

"Have you ever been made?" asked Jane.

"Once," I replied. "I was on loan to the Boston PD for a smuggling investigation. For weeks I worked on the accent. Spent a couple of weeks learning the ropes as a dockworker in New York Harbour. Got placed as a dockworker in the Boston Seaport." I shook my head at the memory and gave out an irritated breath. "Have you noticed when you're in Brooklyn everyone refers to New York as the city? They refer to Boston city as the town. I called it the city and right away they knew I wasn't one of them. It was at the bar, in front of too many witnesses, so I got out of there okay but it was weeks of work down the drain and the Boston PD were not impressed even though I was never told that fact. Plus it alerted the smugglers that the police were sniffing around. That one still bothers me."

She turned around and leaned on my chest looking at me with those beautiful eyes. "Anything I can do to help you get over the pain, Paul?"

"Rachel, sweetheart, I thought you would never ask," I replied. "Let's take it to the bedroom."

We both chuckled then she kissed me, so sweetly and tenderly that I could feel myself getting harder by the second. God I wanted her but with the crowded space we were in it wouldn't be comfortable for either of us, considering the level of arousal I was in. Jane smiled and stood up as I steadied her by holding her hand while she stepped out. She dried me off with a towel when I stepped out before wrapping the towel around her. Her hair had been put up in a loose bun before getting into the tub so I reached around and pulled the hair elastic out, running my hands through her blonde tresses, bringing them around her shoulders. Quietly we kissed, enjoying the warmth of our bodies, our skin still soft and fragrant from the bath water. The candle was blown out and we held each other tightly around the waist as we moved to the bed, pulling the covers back. Removing her towel, Jane got in bed first, reclining herself onto her elbow, like a model in a painting. Sliding in beside her I let Jane pull the covers over me and we laid on our sides, gazing at each other, gently touching each other's faces.

From there we began touching each other. My fingers traced a line down her neck to her shoulder then down the inside of her arm, gently brushing her breast along the way. Her eyes closed as her breathing changed the closer my fingers got to her hips and the warmth of her core. As I gently brushed against her soft mound her palm was on my chest, massaging my pectoral muscle then drawing a single finger around my hardening nipple. My mouth crushed onto hers, as my arousal ramped up. Grasping Jane around the waist I pressed my groin into her, laying partially on her, and pulling one of her legs around my waist. She was just as aroused and wrapped her arms tightly around me, as if she wanted to merge our bodies into one. Her mouth opened next to my ear and I could feel her warm breath on my skin.

"I'm ready. No condom. I got the IUD."

Pulling away from her for a moment I looked at her intently, wanting her so badly but a part of me still hesitant to do this without protection, my choice of protection. She must have sensed this because she stroked my hair and kissed me again.

"It will be alright, I promise," she whispered. "I just want you, all of you, nothing between us anymore."

"What if ... you know?" I whispered back. "I'm not sure I'm ready for that. Not yet."

She swallowed. "Neither am I but it could happen either way, right? Can we agree to deal with it if and when it happens?"

Her eyes were softly pleading for me to take this step with her. It was a moment of trust and even though it might come back to bite both of us in the ass I knew it was necessary, especially now that we were on the cusp of two months with just each other to count on. Nodding my head we kissed again then I guided myself into her, groaning at the sensation of being in her, feeling her warmth directly surround my length. Jane was right; it felt so much better this way. Pulling out and thrusting back in felt amazing, every part of her came alive around me, her stifled cry of passion like a dagger of pure pleasure.

"Fuck, baby, you feel so good," I gasped, trying to keep as quiet as I could for the sake of our host.

Jane grasped my head in her hands, crashing her mouth onto mine, her tongue seeking out my tongue. Without a condom between us I didn't know if I was going to make it to two minutes before I came, so long it had been since I last made love without one. Her writhing brought out a desire to control her, to press her body deeply into the mattress as if I was subduing a wild creature. The pressure at the base of my spine was building and Jane kept thrusting herself up into me, desperate for friction on her clitoris. Reaching down with my thumb I circled the source of her pleasure, her back arching in anticipation of her own release from the sweet agony she was in. A part of me couldn't believe the reaction she was having. Both of us were slaves to the desires of our bodies, thrusting and twisting ourselves to find that perfect symmetry between satisfying our whole need for the other with the incredible pressure that was building up where we joined. Words weren't coming out in any sort of sense, rather it was a series of sounds, groans, and gasps that escaped from our mouths. Foster probably regretted giving us the green light to make love as our separation had made us both needy, both of us wanting to please as much as be pleasured in return.

Jane came first, her back arching off the bed as I buried my face in her breasts, feeling the tautness of her body as the waves of orgasm surged through her until she began relaxing with a contented sigh. I wasn't far behind, moments maybe, as I emptied myself into her, pressing it in repeatedly until that animal part of my brain said enough. It was glorious; nothing else could describe it and at that moment I was willing to accept the consequences if fate decided the portion of percent of failure rate of the device applied to us at that particular moment. If we were destined to have a baby, then we just had a hell of a conception event.

"Stay in me," she whispered. "I want to feel this for as long as we can."

"Am I too heavy?" I answered, as I was a big guy.

"Just right," was her murmured answer and she ran her hands down my back to my ass, pressing me in further for emphasis.

Eventually it became necessary for both of us to clean up and we jumped in the shower quickly to take care of matters. We both put night clothes on; a nightgown for Jane, a T-shirt and sweatpants for me. She slipped back under the covers.

"I think I can sleep now," she said. "You coming in?"

"Actually, I'm hungry," I said. "I think I'm going to raid the refrigerator. You want anything?"

She shook her head and I tucked her in, kissing her forehead. Quietly I went out the hallway and saw there was a light in the kitchen. Foster was already there, having a bowl of ice cream.

"You want some?" she asked.

"Maybe," I replied. "What else do you have?"

She waved towards the fridge, and I opened it to see different boxes of takeout. I grabbed one and she reached for it, shaking her head, then tossing it in the garbage. Grabbing another, she nodded her approval, and I heated it up in the microwave. I sat next to her at the kitchen island and began eating.

"We weren't too loud for you, were we?" I asked hesitantly. "We haven't seen each other for a while."

"Not a problem," she smiled. "Just strip the bed in the morning so I know the sheets need washing. How long have you two been a couple?"

"A few weeks," I replied. "It's going faster than we both expected but we're in deep now."

She nodded in agreement. "Thor told me a bit about your Jane. Sounds like her ex was a real monster; setting her up first then trying to take her out. Do you know if she told him about Bobcaygeon?"

I didn't. "She played it for me because of the cop angle in the video. Thought it would resonate with me." Which it did.

"We should confirm that with her. That area has its own police service and a former colleague of mine is an officer there. I've given him a heads up that you're staying with my dad, just asked him about watching for her ex-husband. I didn't give him your real names, although he'll likely make the connection for Jane. He'll check in with you every so often."

"Your dad, you said he was a policeman for 43 years," I noted. "What's his name?"

"Erik Selvig," she replied. I began to laugh.

"I've heard that name. Has he taught courses?"

Smiling, she nodded. "He's known as the Big Swede. Talked at police conferences about effective undercover disguises."

"The Big Swede is your dad?" That was too much. He was a bit of a legend amongst undercover police operatives in both countries. "Everyone whose ever done undercover has heard of him. He's ..."

"Famous, yeah, it's why he couldn't do it anymore. Too many people found out about him. It kind of ended his potential as an operative. Occupational hazard I guess."

She ate the rest of her ice cream and put the dishes into the dishwasher. She stopped beside me.

"We'll do our best to keep you two under the radar but if anything, absolutely anything goes south you take Jane in the car and you bail. Drive as far away as you can, direction doesn't matter. Let us clean up what's left." She took a notepad out and wrote an email address on it. "This is a secure email, accessed by Thor. If you have to go you contact him via this email. Use a public library to do it. Create an account, put subject matter as "freelance." You don't have to tell him where you are or where you're going. It's just putting out a lifeline. If he can bring you in he'll tell you and set up a meet."

I took it, knowing full well that all it took was a single post on someone's social media with us in the background for them to track us. With the high season winding down for cottage country it was hoped there would be less opportunity for that. But no plan was perfect. It's why I didn't want my Jane to be alone. She needed someone who could defend her, someone who could help her go further underground if it was necessary. Maybe that's why we met, that late night in the dangerous part of Brooklyn, so that our paths crossed. They say when the stars align for you, it means you're either very good or very lucky. Part of me thought we met so that I could be the one who would be Jane's defender. What does that say about me? Either I was a romantic sap or a delusional 38-year-old man with white knight syndrome, or both. Regardless, I knew to what lengths I would go for her.

After I finished eating my late-night snack, I put the dishes away and went back up to the room. Jane was asleep, almost at the edge of the bed, one arm curled under her head. I spooned behind her, put my arm around her waist and drew her back from the danger of falling off. She protested a little in her sleep but put her one hand on top of mine and stroked it. Gently I kissed her neck through her hair and settled in. If I could reduce our situation to how I felt right here, right now, I would tell anyone and everyone that being with Jane felt right. Like I told Foster, I was in deep.

RCMP - Royal Canadian Mounted Police, federal police force, often used as police force in rural areas or smaller urban centres.

CBSA - Canadian Border Services Agency

CFB - Canadian Forces Base