End of Innocence
Chapter 26
Cabin, Cimarron, Colorado, late same night
The last dance of light from the woodstove found Reese asleep on the couch.
Shaw eased silently down the hall to find the rest of the cabin in darkness. She didn't mind the dark. Hid a lot of sins, yeah, but made way for a little nocturnal justice, too. Some of her best work – done in the dark.
At the end of the hall, she scanned the living room. Turned out, he hadn't moved from his spot on the couch. After the hurt of probing his wound, she'd offered him the pain med again. Could have saved him some grief if he'd accepted before. And once the pill was down, he'd closed his eyes; resting there, while the pain relinquished its grip.
The walk outdoors had caught up with him, too, she figured. Pain in his side from the strain of lifting his leg each step and drained from breathing so hard out in the cold. Anemia had followed after the ambush and every step this high up in the mountains would take its toll.
Each day now he'd be stumbling over another thing he couldn't quite do.
Shaw knew how that'd be likely to go with a man like Reese. She'd seen it herself back in New York: barely two weeks in after the ambush, he'd willed himself to stand over a couple of brutal days. She'd watched him do it, grim-faced, mute, seething inside. And once he'd forced himself to stand and wobble those first few unsteady steps, he'd disappeared from his bed the morning after.
Reese had gone dark, leaving everything behind they could use to trace him. Finch worried he'd collapse out there – some dark alley or warehouse. They'd never find him in time. But Shaw'd had another idea.
She'd shown up at his place and found the broken glass at the back. Reese must have lowered himself in through the window. Maybe he'd still be there. She dropped herself in and followed him up his stairs – only to find he'd already gone. And Reese was a man who knew how to disappear. The search was on.
After this latest setback, the raging infection, touched off by that trip down through the window, any normal man would've needed another month or more to recover. For Reese, he'd push it back to a week or two.
He was used to playing hurt and he wasn't gonna let it stop him.
Last night, Shaw'd disappeared into the kitchen while Reese had slowly given in on the couch. She'd gone there to clean the instruments and run them through an old pressure cooker, sterilizing them for next time. Best she could do in the field like this.
Then she'd heated a little dinner for the two of them and went back out to check on him. Called his name, jostled him once or twice, and then gave up and ate by herself. Nothing fancy, and it wasn't like she needed the company. When she was done, she'd left his plate, wrapped, on the counter and headed in to the bedroom.
Just like the previous night, Shaw found herself restless. Sleep eluded her for hours, until the wind outside had finally made her get up to check on things. She'd half-expected to find Reese sitting in his chair, staring at the fire out there. Instead, he was stretched on the couch where she'd left him.
Shaw swung her head around and glanced at the counter. His plate, still there. He'd never made it up to eat. She padded over, slid the plate into the fridge, and started back for the hallway. Another glance his way stopped her. The fire had gone to embers now in the stove, and he'd fallen asleep without a blanket on him. With the pain med onboard, he'd probably sleep right through.
Better deal with this, she thought.
It was tough not wishing for the old days, before any of this had happened, when they'd been a functioning unit. The loss of one had rippled through the rest, tearing them apart. Each had gone their own way for a while. Seemed to her, some would come out of it stronger. Some not so much.
On the other hand, anyone who'd been through what Reese had these last few weeks would've lost a step or two. Even a soldier like Reese, lucky to be alive. It'd take some time before he'd be back to anything like himself. Doubt it would've been any different if she'd been the one wounded, instead.
Shaw found herself standing over him at the side of the couch. A glint of light reflected off the rim of a glass curled in his right hand. She pictured him lying there, turning the glass around and around in his hand, just like the other night. She reached, coaxing the glass out of his grip. Reese stirred but didn't wake.
Next, she grabbed the end of his pant leg and swung the right leg up off the floor onto the seat. Lying like that all night would've seized him up, for sure, by morning. A deeper breath and a grimace followed as he settled himself in. Good that he'd finally taken that pill. At least it'd take the edge off enough to let him sleep.
From the back of the couch above him, Shaw pulled down one of the blankets and shook it out, draping the wool over the top of him. An eyelid opened for a second and then closed again. Back to his other world, his sleep world.
A busy place most of the time, she'd been noticing. Just another in the long list of symptoms she'd cataloged on him: nightmares, hypervigilance, flashbacks, avoidance of certain triggers, and emotional detachment; the list went on. Didn't think this was anything new for him, maybe just worse since Carter.
And it's not like she didn't know what it was: to have all those skills, own every scrap of the knowhow – and yet, nothing to do when the time came – when help was needed the most and everything that meant anything was slipping away out of your fingertips.
Not that she'd felt it the same way as Reese. Or dwelled on it. Nothing to be gained from that. No new insights, no new skill to be learned and honed for the next time.
They'd all had to face it – when your time comes, you take your best shot; sometimes you beat the odds, sometimes you lose. Life goes on.
Hong Kong Island, Mandarin Hotel, December 2013
Their driver wound his way down the slope, from Conduit Road to the flatlands down by the Harbor's edge.
At night like this, the thin ribbon of Causeway connecting Island to City arched over dark harbor water lying between. Hong Kong, the City, blazed on the other side, electric in the night – filling their view to the north, with the cool stretch of darkness between.
Their car swung in and around at the front of their hotel, one of the boutiques nestled just meters away from the main business hub of the Island. Shopping, restaurants, and commerce flourished there; and, by way of the Causeway, just a forty-minute drive to the airport.
Their driver stopped and jumped out, holding the door again for the gray-haired gentleman inside. His female companion left from the opposite side again, eyes swinging through an arc: ahead, side-to-side, and behind them, until she was satisfied. Then she leaned down and signaled him with a nod. The gentleman swung his legs out and stood, smoothing his suit, while his companion waited – scanning the grounds until he joined her and then the two disappeared inside the hotel lobby.
High above, adjoining rooms watched over the Harbor and City lights beyond. Breathtaking for any normal tourists. Greer had the larger one, with space enough for a small, square sitting room inside – his quiet place to sit with a drink after a long day of meetings.
The suit jacket slipped from his shoulders, and he left it folded on the end of his bed. The tie came off next, and he smoothed it, folded it in half on top of his jacket. As he turned, Greer rolled his sleeves to the elbows.
Only steps away, his bathroom, and Greer left the lights off inside. Plenty coming in from the City across the harbor; enough for his needs. And soothing, none of the glare bouncing off the marble in there.
At the sink, he cupped his hands and splashed a stream of warmth over his face and neck. A thick towel pressed to his face wiped the wet away and he draped it around his neck like a scarf. Upright again, Greer caught himself in the mirror. Dark, like a shadow in the dimness. The eyes, an icy blue shining in the dark. He turned away.
Next to the sink, a line of glasses waited there, each one wrapped in crinkly white paper. He picked one and tore away the paper on the way to the cabinet where he'd left his bottle the night before. Starting with a splash – then he'd see where things went after that. Greer let out a long sigh as he poured. Weary tonight.
Next stop, the leather chair in the sitting room. No lights on in there, either, except the ones shining in from across the harbor. He lowered himself into the chair and swung a leg up onto a low table in front of him.
Another deep sigh escaped. Wished he had a cigarette. No matter how long it'd been, the craving still crept in when he had a drink in his hand.
The creases in his face gathered in a frown. Greer leaned back to take a sip.
Kara preferred the amenities in the adjoining room: a small private terrace where she took her coffee each morning, and on nights like this, some quality time with a glass of wine, lights turned low, adrift in a giant round soaking tub.
Once she'd closed the door to her suite, Kara engaged the lock and tipped a chair back under the handle. Then she walked the whole place with her hand on her weapon. When she'd cleared the space, Kara returned to the bathroom, opening the tap to fill the tub. A palm-full of beads thrown in melted into some kind of floral fragrance in the water – lavender, maybe.
One of the glasses from next to the sink would do for her choice of wine tonight. The bottle still had half of it left inside when she held it up to the light. More would've been better – and maybe someone to share it with, too.
Blood red splashed out into her glass, and she held the rim below her nose to savor the aroma before her first sip. Another, and another in quick succession. Felt good. Warmth spreading out in a promising way.
Kara slipped off her jacket and tossed it on the bed. Now that the jacket was gone, the butt end of her gun showed out of the top of her waistband. It came out fast into her hand and she placed it on the end of her bed while she undressed the rest of the way. Her eyes were on the glass on the opposite wall.
A view of the skyline beyond bathed her in white light as she took another sip.
Kara reached for the gun and turned back to the bathroom, filled now with the scent of warm lavender. Her feet stepped over cool tiles on the floor on the way. She sat the glass and her gun on a high bamboo table next to the tub, an easy arm's reach away, and climbed in. Silky, fragrant water spread over her, and she let herself submerge to the line of her jaw.
The tips of her hair floated at the surface next to her head, while the water rose higher and higher in the tub. The warmth of her skin matched the warmth of the water now, immersed in its silky grasp. She reached first for the tap to stop the flow and then to her glass. A long sip. Then resting it on the wide edge of the tub.
A knock came at her door. Not the one in the hall.
Kara sat forward for a moment. A decision had to be made. Answer, or let her silence speak.
Another rap, not harder than the first.
She reached for her glass and took a long sip, replacing the glass on the edge. Then she leaned back and let herself submerge to the line of her jaw, immersed.