Please leave reviews as I live for them. This is another shorter chapter. It's a little raw and convoluted but Bobby needed this to happen.
Bobby meets His Match – Chapter 33
The bright sun, combined with the endless heat of the day caused a mist that blurred the white robes approaching Bobby's team. He trained his Leopold rifle on the bulges under the robes, which could be weapons, or bombs, or who the fuck knew what else. Forcing himself to take a calming breath, Bobby waited, the silence almost deafening after the explosive noises a few moments ago. Bobby's three man team was trapped here, in the rubble of the building. They had been forced down the dead end alley by automatic rifle fire in an ambush that had obviously been planned. Just like every one of the last five goddamned ambushes had been planned, ambushes that had killed five guys in three different teams. Bobby squinted, trying to make out the bulge under the robes of the smaller form. Fucking terrorists didn't exactly put up a sign denoting which of their similarly robed forms were the evil bad fuckers and which were the innocents just trying to survive. Bobby knew too many Americans had been killed by " innocent looking old men. One of the forms broke off from the others just as more shooting sounded, Bobby saw his teammates take cover, returning fire. He lined up his sight on the smaller of the two forms, which was now raising its arm, about to hurl a small object towards his team. Bobby calmly squeezed his trigger and instantly felt the familiar recoil from his rifle, as he watched the figure blow apart by Bobby's high powered ammunition.
Standard operating procedure was to search the fuckers they killed for intel, like the terrorists were going to have all their fucking plans written down somewhere complete with fucking illustrations. The gunfire had stopped, but Bobby's heart was pounding now, as he and his buddys crept carefully up to the still forms on the ground. They crept, one step, stop and look for snipers, then another. He left his teammates a few steps back as he approached the still forms. No point in all of them getting killed if this was another fucking ambush.
Bobby removed approached the tango that he had killed. He ripped aside some of the robes and was met with- delicate features, small eyes, oh, holy fuck, it wasn't… Bobby's heart lurched into his stomach and he felt sick as his hands moved hurriedly now, frantically searching the still form, hoping to find a pulse. Which was ridiculous since Bobby's ammo had practically blown the white robed form apart. His eyes went back to meet the smaller eyes and he grabbed the object, a large melon, clutched in the limp hand. Holy fuck, Bobby had just fucking killed an unarmed woman…
Bobby 's eyes jerked open, and he gasped for air as he woke violently from yet another dream. It took a moment for him to steady his breathing and calm his racing heart, as he realized that he wasn't in that alley in Kandahar. He was in a tent in the mountains of Colorado. He stretched his sore neck and rubbed the four days growth of beard itching his face. Another thing that was just like fucking Afghanistan -the damn beard. Bobby hated it, but in these primitive conditions, no use or time to shave. The accommodations for a class called Wilderness Survival and Battle Medicine were primitive, designed to simulate conditions that might be encountered in the mountains of Afghanistan. Except this time, Bobby wasn't in Afghanistan, but a remote mountain in Colorado. Everything was designed to simulate battle conditions as closely as possible, from the shitty MREs to the makeshift tents, to the simulated explosions and blanks for ammunition.
Most of the guys in the class were former military, like Bobby, and some civilian paramedics who wanted to learn to treat shrapnel and other battlefield injuries so they would be prepared to treat any victims of domestic bombings or terrorist acts, or plain old domestic violence. As if there was really any way to simulate the noise, confusion, and heart pounding terror of a real firefight.
He was exhausted, as he hadn't slept well , plagued by dreams, since the first night. This was the closest he'd been to battle conditions since, well, since he'd been in combat. He'd met a couple guys here who were former SEALS and Rangers, and hearing them talk about some firefights had taken Bobby's mind back to some places he'd rather not go back to. Fuck. He hadn't slept more than a few hours each night. Instead he'd done pushups- really the only exercise to do here. The second night he'd gone hiking for miles, trying to get rid of the tension. The only thing that calmed him was thinking of Cathy.
He'd hiked three miles earlier tonight in order to get a cell signal so that he could call her. He had called her every night so far, just as he had promised. Hearing her voice calmed his mind. He knew that she was worried that he was in Afghanistan instead of in the US. She was smart enough to know that if he WAS ever to go to Afghanistan, he'd never tell her that.
She'd noticed the strain in his voice that he'd tried to hide from her. He didn't want her to know about the dreams, that being here was really stressing him. He didn't want her to worry, and he sure as hell didn't want her pestering him about therapy again. She kept asking if he was ok and safe. He'd done everything he could to reassure her that he was safe and in the US. He'd even had one of the guys take a pic of him and he'd texted it to her.
He thought of her and his future child, curled up in his bed, which was now probably covered with fur from that damn cat. She said she was feeling better, but he wished he could see her face to know if she was telling the truth. Cathy sucked at lying- her eyes always gave her away. He would always be able to tell if she was hiding something from him just by looking into her eyes. He knew Lester was keeping watch over her, and would tell him if she wasn't eating or there was a problem. He thought of her, and closed his eyes, hoping for some nightmare free sleep.
She didn't feel the least bit guilty about snooping through Bobby's apartment. After all, he was the one who had insisted she stay here while he was gone. Well, ok, maybe a little bit. Bobby was a private guy and they hadn't really talked about much of the past or the future. But he HAD insisted she stay here , and he wanted her to practically stay home and rest all the time, so what did he expect her to do? Watch the large TV that covered one wall? She sure as hell wasn't going to take the gun from under Bobby's bed and have one of the guys take her target shooting in the Rangeman range. In fact, she was glad that her pregnancy seemed to get her a temporary reprieve from the shooting lessons. Bobby hadn't said so, but she'd bet he wouldn't want the baby exposed to that much noise or vibrations from the recoil. She was sure once she had the baby he would insist on giving her shooting lessons again, but for now she wanted nothing to do with the gun under the bed or the others, probably MANY others locked in the large gunsafe in the corner of the bedroom.
There was nothing to clean, as Ella took care of that, even to scooping Cinder's litter box that Bobby had kept in the short hall near the bathroom. Cathy felt a little bad about that. Cinder was her cat, after all. But she was sure Bobby had probably asked Ella to do it because he didn't want his pregnant girlfriend doing it.
Cathy was wearing Bobby's t-shirt that she had slept in because it made her feel closer to him. He was so big that his shirt fit her almost to her knees, like a dress. She opened the closet, where her clothes were haphazardly hung up next to his neatly arranged ones, and sighed. She missed him so much. Of course, he 'd remembered his promise and called her every night since he'd left. She loved hearing his deep , sexy voice, but it sounded so strained. She was afraid that he really was in Afghanistan or someplace equally horrible and he'd lied to her so she wouldn't worry. He'd even sent her a picture of him that one of the guys there had taken. In it he looked tired, lines in his face. But he had that beautiful smile, and several days growth of beard. She had never seen him in a beard before, and wasn't sure if she liked it. It made him look…fierce, primitive, like he had probably looked in Afghanistan. She shuddered slightly. The beard made him look almost ruthless, and she thought of how he had killed Anders for her.
Her musings were interrupted by the lurching of her stomach and that now familiar but annoying way that the baby had of making its presence known. She emptied herself into the toilet again, feeling weary of the morning sickness. She rubbed her abdomen gently. " I guess you aren't going to go easy on me while your daddy is away," she whispered to the baby. She wished Bobby was here to surround her with his warm strength.
Lester had laughed when she'd told him her fears about where Bobby was. "Honey, if he was in Afghanistan, he wouldn't be able to call you every night and he sure as hell wouldn't be able to send you a picture." Lester had checked in with her at least once a day since Bobby had been gone, making sure she was eating, resting, etc. She knew he was in contact with Bobby too, probably reporting her every move to him. Lester had made sure that the fridge was stocked with healthy food and lots of ginger ale for her stomach. Every time she mentioned her worry about Bobby, Lester told her that Bobby was fine, but probably just tired as the class was grueling." He doesn't want you worrying about him, honey." Lester kept telling her.
She grabbed a ginger ale and sat at Bobby's desk. All the drawers were so organized, everything in order, as Bobby controlled everything in his life. How the hell would they ever live together with Bobby so neat and orderly and she more laid back, kind of a slob? She chuckled. That was the least of the things they had to overcome. She opened one smaller drawer and was surprised to find it was the only one not neat and orderly. In fact, things were just thrown haphazardly into this drawer, and Cathy was secretly relieved that Bobby was capable of being messy. She noticed a pristine white business card from a therapist…so he had gone! And next to the business card was, holy shit… a velvet covered jeweler's box.
Bobby was so fucking exhausted. For over a week, he had been exposed to the primitive, battle-like conditions of the wilderness survival class, and it was royally fucking him up. He had barely slept at all in the last three days, trying to avoid being plagued by the near constant dreams. It was starting to affect his judgment, and his skills. Last night, he'd met up with a couple other ex-SEALS, and they had gotten drunk on smuggled in whiskey and exchanged war stories- the ones they could talk about anyway.
One of the ex-Rangers, Zeke, had been " over there" at about the same time as Bobby's second tour, and they had served with some of the same people. Bobby knew most of the guys he'd mentioned, some of them guys who Bobby had been serving with as medic when they had been ambushed. Bobby had been only one of two survivors from that squad. Some of the many guys whom Bobby had failed to save.
Bobby told him about Cathy and how she was carrying his child. Zeke grimaced. " Good luck with that man. " Zeke was just divorced from his second wife.
" Yeah, it just wasn't the same, man, after I got back," he told Bobby, solemn and blabbering now,from the whiskey. " You know how it is. After spending so many months on alert, I couldn't relax, couldn't handle her stupid drama shit. She couldn't handle the changed me, the harder me. The drinking…I am not proud of it, but I did get violent.." Zeke's voice broke, " she got a restraining order. I can't see my kids, man." His voice broke and he he sighed and downed another shot. " She didn't like the me that came back. Well, what did she fucking expect?'
Fuck. Bobby did not want to wind up like Zeke, alone and fucked up. He didn't want Cathy scared of him, or his son. He didn't want to wind up divorced and he sure as fuck would rather die than ever hurt Cathy physically, or his child… He walked down the trail in the moonlight…
He had called Cathy earlier and was disappointed to get her voicemail. He wanted, needed to hear her voice. He thumbed through his phone and found the pic she had texted him earlier, her wearing lingerie and lying in HIS bed. He wanted her so damn badly, and he needed the release of being inside her. He grabbed his rock hard dick and stroked, imagining it was her softer, smaller hand pleasuring him.. and looking at her picture he gave himself release.
Bobby lay, spent, the pressure and longing within him leading to an almost violent orgasm. He was cold and felt alone and lost without her next to him. He wanted Cathy and the baby with him, forever. He didn't want to wind up like Zeke, and he feared that was where he was heading.
He sat looking at the moon, thinking of Cathy. Unexpectedly, tears welled up in his eyes and rolled down his face. He didn't fucking have a choice anymore. He was going to have to fucking confront his demons, drag himself back through the shit and deal with it. He didn't know if he could survive going through that again, but he didn't have a choice. He couldn't lose Cathy, ever. He was really afraid that confronting his demons might fuck him up even worse, but he didn't have much choice. He was NOT going to wind up like Zeke. He wanted Cathy and his child to have a whole man.
He thumbed through his phone and pressed Lester's name, not caring that it was almost 3am. Lester wouldn't care either. " Santos" he heard Lester's voice annoyed and sleepy at the same time. " Hey, man," Bobby rasped out, " I need a huge fucking favor."