Chapter 32
Jessica POV
Leaning back in the hard wooden chair she stared at the piece of paper lying in front of her on the small desk as if it were a live grenade.
She desperately hoped for a distraction to walk through the door of the room at Battalion CP she's been using as an office since 'the incident', as she referred to it in her head. And whenever anyone asked her about it. Not that many did. No one seemed to have the stomach for the conversation, and she couldn't blame them.
Sink's orderly had dropped off the report of their failed mission in the morning, before she'd even finished her first coffee. That had been over an hour ago. Her coffee had gone cold, and her back was starting to complain from being stuck in the same position. One single piece of paper, which wasn't even full, had brought back the tremble to her fingers and the knot in her stomach.
Her eyes drifted to the envelope sitting next to the report. She recognized Arlene's looping handwriting. She'd received the letter two days ago, the day after 'the incident', but had found herself unable to open it. Once she read it, she would have to reply, and she just didn't know what to say.
Parker's dead. We were hunted like animals by your ex and he shot himself instead of being taken. Hope you're doing great. Love ya.
She knew by the time Arlene got her letter she would already know about Parker. Alex had sent her a message straight after the debriefing. So, she couldn't say nothing. But she didn't know what she was going to write that didn't sound angry or hopeless.
It's like she'd been set back years, to the months after their escape from Holland. She was angry at Arlene all over again. She felt lost, alone and exhausted. And she hated herself for failing to protect her own.
Fuck.
The door opened and a mop of unruly, by the military's standards, chocolate hair appeared.
"Nix," she shot out of the chair and nearly ran over to him.
He chuckled and gave her a tentative hug. "That bad huh?"
"One page Nix. One damn page for all of that," she replied as he held her.
She felt him nod before he let her go, his eyes scanning her before settling on her face. "How are you feeling?"
She shrugged. "Still sore. The headaches are a lot better though. I'm no longer cold all the time. Roe seems happier."
He smiled. "Good. Everyone's been worried."
"I doubt that." The words left her mouth before she could bite them back.
His bushy eyebrows shot up so high they nearly disappeared into his hairline.
"Sorry," she grumbled.
Lighting two cigarettes he held one out to her. She accepted it and walked back to the small desk so she could lean against it. Nixon followed her into the room, pushing the door so it was almost closed.
"I take it Dick hasn't been to see you yet?"
"He's avoiding me. I was with Alex and Heyliger yesterday when he walked into the room. There were maybe three other people there, yet he somehow managed to avoid even being in the same conversation as me. I would be impressed it I wasn't so angry."
Nixon shook his head and sighed. "He's a damn idiot."
"Richard Winters is many things; an idiot isn't one of them."
"There's a first time for everything."
She closed her eyes and rolled her shoulders, taking comfort in the familiar click. Eyes still closed she said, "Maye he just realized this, me, it's all too much."
"Here."
She opened her eyes to find Nixon holding out a flask to her. She rewarded him with a small smile but waved it off. He shrugged and took a swig before hiding it back inside his jacket.
She arched one eyebrow. "A little early don't you think?"
"It's five-o-clock somewhere."
She could only shake her head in response.
Nixon's brow furrowed and a contemplative looked passed over his handsome features. "He shouted. And hit the doorframe."
She could feel her eyebrows knit together as she tilted her head to one side. "What? Who? When?"
He moved forward so he could stub out his cigarette butt in the ashtray next to her, but once that was done he barely moved backwards, remaining close. With his voice low, like he was sharing some important secret, he answered. "Dick, the day we brought you back, just after they'd dropped you off at the aid station. I've never seen him lose it like that. Fuck, I've never seen him lose it at all."
Her heart ached and she blinked back tears that were starting to sting her eyes. "Well, at least that explains it."
"Explains what?"
"Why he's calling it a day on us. Not that there ever really was an 'us'. Not being in control of himself would be too much for him. He'd hate it."
She forcefully stubbed out the cigarette she had barely touched.
"He's just figuring things out Jess. Give him some time. Please," he said.
"You know, he once told me he wasn't a coward. And when it comes to fighting and his men, he's not. But right now, avoiding me when I actually need him…"
Nixon took her into his arms and held her. She rested her head against his chest, the steady beat of his heart and rhythmic rise and fall of his chest making her feel safe and stable for the first time since she'd woken up screaming that morning.
"Just give him some time. He needs someone that pushes him outside of his comfort zone."
"Well, while he decides what he wants Ron has found a reason to see me every day. More than once."
Nixon's arms involuntarily tightened around her to the point where her bruised ribs really started to protest.
"Nix, that's a bit tight."
His arms fell to his side as he took a small step back. "Shit, sorry."
"It's fine. Although now I know for a fact you've been running interference with Ron. Tsk-tsk-tsk." She waved one finger in the air for effect.
Nixon rolled his eyes but didn't deny the allegation. "Do I want to know what's going on between you two?"
"For now, we're talking. It's nice."
"H'm. Nice huh?"
"Yes Nix, nice."
"And nice is what you want?"
"Nice is a hell of a lot better than whatever is happening with Richard right now. So…."
Richard POV
He'd barely registered the heavy footfalls stomping up the stairs to his makeshift office when Nixon greeted him with a halfhearted smirk, waving his flask back and forth.
He jerked his head in the direction of this footlocker.
Nixon nodded in thanks, but something in the way his friend's face was set into a disapproving frown made him uneasy. Or to be more accurate, it was adding to the brick that had settled in his stomach.
"What?" Nixon asked as he decanted some of his beloved Vat 69 into the flask.
"You tell me Nix."
Nixon slowly finished what he was doing, intentionally taking his time. His friend's slow and deliberate movements, the way he was avoiding his eyes, was working on his nerves. He pushed his chair back with a loud scrape and turned it so he was facing Nixon, who had taken up residence on a low brown sofa. Resting his forearms on his knees he glared at Nixon who settled back in the couch and simply held his darkening gaze.
"Glad to see you still have some fight left in you," Nixon finally said.
"Nix, don't talk in riddles. Now's not the time."
"Fine, you want me to say it straight?"
He was clenching his jaw so tight his teeth were starting to hurt, but he managed to grit out, "Yes."
Nixon leaned forward, mirroring him down to the anger visible in his eyes. "Spiers has been spending time with Jessica. And I'm not going to stop him anymore."
He grunted and tried to smile, but it felt and looked more like a grimace. "I know. And I never asked you do anything."
Nixon shot up and threw his hands in the air. "Fuck Dick! You didn't have to. I know how you feel about Jess. Or did. But –,"
The fire in his blood abruptly forced him to his feet. "Or did?"
"Yeah, because in the last three days you've done everything possible to avoid Jessica while Spiers has done everything he can to get close to her! And then you tell me you knew and did nothing! Jeez! What's wrong with you?!"
"What's wrong with me!? I hit a wall Nix! And right now, if this table weren't between us, I would be doing the same to you!"
"Screw you Richard! You're the one that needs a good hit too the head to knock some goddamn sense into you!"
He could hear the blood rushing in his ears as he fought to regain some control over his own breathing. "I'm warning you Nix, walk away. Now."
Nixon scoffed and rolled his eyes. "Stop being a coward. You want to fight me, fine. But we both know you're angry because you couldn't keep Jessica safe!"
He choked out a laugh. "Have you met her? She doesn't need saving!"
"Then what the hell is it?"
"I couldn't help her! I couldn't touch her, keep her close, take her away. I couldn't give her a place to rest. I was helpless! I was out of control!"
"Fuck Dick, don't you think you should be telling her this?"
"I can't be around her Nix. It kills me to see her!"
"And how do you feel not seeing her, huh? Or better yet, seeing her with someone else? Because that's what's going to happen if you don't figure this out."
Nixon's words felt like a blow to the stomach, each one landing with more force than the one before. He hated his best friend, but he hated himself more.
"You're angry now? You feel out of control now? Do you think those feelings are going to go away when she finally chooses Spiers, or anyone else for that matter? Do you honestly think you're going to feel better when she gets shot at, or nearly blown up or what the fuck else could happen to her, just because you're not with her? Are you really that stupid?"
Silence descended on the room and suddenly he was aware of his nails painfully digging into his palms. He pressed harder to give his mind something else to focus on than the blinding rage that was eating away at him.
Nixon shook his head and sighed. He turned to leave but paused at the stop of the stairs and turned to look over his shoulder. "You'll regret losing her Dick. And whatever you're feeling right now, will get worse."
His friend waited for a beat. Waited for him to say anything. But when only silence followed, he disappeared down the stairs.
"Ugh!" he grabbed the glass on the table and threw it across the room. As it shattered against the far wall he slumped over the table, his chest rising and falling like he'd been running for his life.
Jessica POV
Arlene's letter had arrived in the morning. Instead of soft loops and elegant curves the handwriting on the cover was thin and messy.
She'd added the letter to the first one she hadn't yet read and put both in her drawer, promising herself she would come back to them that night once the men had left for their mission.
A good portion of Easy and most of her men were going across the river to assist the British with bringing back one hundred forty of their men who had been trapped behind the German lines when Operation Market Garden had gone sideways.
As much as she hated being left behind, when Alex suggested she be the officer to stay, she hadn't fought him. If she were being honest with herself the thought of going back over the river for anything other than bringing Parker home felt like a stab to her heart. It was ridiculous and illogical for so many reasons, but her heart just couldn't get over it.
She glanced over at the wristwatch she always placed on the table and sighed. The men would be setting off soon. She'd spent the afternoon with those men, both theirs and Easy's, who were staying behind. It was done under some flimsy pretense or another but really, she was there to squish her own conflicting emotions, and theirs. Everyone was grateful to stay, and they all hated being left behind.
Taking a deep breath, she pulled the two letters out of the drawer. She'd been running away from this for far too long. It was time to be brave again.
She decided to read the letters in the order they'd arrived. Opening the first she felt almost delirious at how surreal it was reading the words after everything that had happened. The letter was dated two days before their failed mission.
Dearest Jessica
I miss you, my friend. The hospital would be so much more fun if you were here. I mean, you definitely would have gotten us into all kinds of trouble by now, but at least I wouldn't be bored out of my mind.
I am healing, but it's taking longer than I had hoped.
I don't know how you managed the letter service, but I am eternally thankful that you did. Especially for including Joe. God Jess, I am in love with that man. I owe you and will never be able to repay you for pushing me towards him.
Here's hoping you and Richard get some time to yourselves soon. I'm willing to bet good money that the uptight Captain will be able to loosen you both up if you give him the chance. Especially after you told me about your kiss in the rain.
Her heart contracted at the mention of Richard, especially when her mind flashed with the memory of their time in the jeep, in the rain. She knew if she tried, she would still be able to remember the heat of his hands on her skin, the taste of his lips, how his strong body felt pressed against hers.
But after the last few days she didn't want to remember it anymore. It only hurt like hell.
How are all our men doing? Also, how are our co-conspirators Bill and Luz?
Please write soon! I'm living vicariously through you now.
Love always
Arlene.
Putting the letter aside she lit a cigarette. As she inhaled the warm smoke and felt its comforting burn settle her body, she eyed the second letter. She could feel Arlene's distress just by looking at the envelope.
She extinguished the cigarette when it was halfway. Since 'the incident' she had found herself unable to finish an entire cigarette in one sitting. She wanted to, but her body seems to lose interest right after she takes the first long drag.
With fingers that trembled she opened the second envelope. Holding the folded letter in her hand she took a deep breath to try and stop the churning in her stomach.
Jessica.
I'm so sorry. I'm so damn sorry.
I don't care what Alex says, we both know Michael was in charge of the trap. The bloody bastard. I should have begged you to shoot him that night. Or better yet, I should have done it myself.
God Jessica, I'm so sorry. This is all my fault.
Please write. Please.
Arlene.
Like a kettle slowly reaching its boiling point, she felt the raw anguish crawl up her stomach, into her lungs, pulling her chest in and constricting her breathing. It burned her throat and tears stung her eyes.
She abruptly stood, the chair clattering to the floor, and screamed.
She screamed until she had no more air left in her body, until her throat felt raw, and her legs were no longer strong enough to hold her. Falling to her knees she dry heaved and sobbed, her bruised ribs protested and the headache returned with a vengeance.
She ignored her body, allowing her emotions to overwhelm and control her. Anger, hate, sadness, helplessness. All of them turned inwards. She was mad at Arlene, but furious at herself. She'd failed. She'd run instead of standing and fighting. She was a coward.
At some point she became aware of the silence around her. She listened for evidence that someone had heard her meltdown, but if they had, they were long gone. She was all alone. She was exhausted and for a moment considered just curling up on the cold floor and closing her eyes, knowing sleep would quickly find her.
"No. Get up Jessica. You will not stay here," she ordered herself.
Gritting her teeth as her locked muscles fought against the decision she slowly stood. Looking around it felt so odd to see the letters still on the desk, as if nothing had happened. The only sign of her pain was a chair lying on its back.
She pulled the chair back up and tucked it underneath the table. With hands that were steadier than she expected, she put both letters back in their envelopes and tucked them into her jacket. She promised herself she would write a reply in the morning, or rather later in the morning as it was already 2 AM.
The men should be back.
She turned off the lights and looked back into the dark room. With a deep, steadying breath, she closed the door.
We're done now.
Jessica POV
Tucked into the shadow of the three-story house, she smiled at the laughter, offkey singing and whoops of joy that drifted over to her from Easy's billet. The men had retuned, triumphant, and were now celebrating with the British paratroopers they'd helped to bring back.
The warm light filtering out from the barn, combined with the heady noise of celebration, tugged at her to join them, but she ignored the pull, rather relishing the anonymity the shadows afforded her so she could enjoy the men's celebration in peace.
Of its own volition her head tilted up and back so her eyes could drift to the attic window above her head. Richard's make-shift office sat across from the Easy billet, the light was on so, as she had expected, he was there, waiting for the men to return.
She was tempted to go up to him, her heart desperately tried to convince her mind it was a good idea. But she refused to move an inch, because she knew if she took one step in that direction she wouldn't stop.
He'd been avoiding her and despite everything she told herself, his absence hurt. She felt abandoned and rejected. She would be damned if she was willingly going to put herself in a position where he could reject her outright. She had far too much pride for that. And besides, emotionally she really wasn't feeling strong enough to absorb another direct blow.
"Jessica?" her head snapped in the direction of the husky voice as her heart leapt into her throat.
She'd been so absorbed in her thoughts of Richard she hadn't heard Ron approach.
She pressed a hand to her heart to steady its erratic beating. "Jeez Ron, you nearly gave me a heart attack."
A cocky smirk tugged at the corners of this lips.
"That wasn't a compliment."
Coming to a stop right in front of her he replied, "Being able to catch you off guard? It sure as hell feels like one."
She rolled her eyes but couldn't help the small smile that played on her lips.
A loud bout of singing coming from the barn pulled Ron's attention away and she couldn't help but admire the strong set of his jaw.
He does have a beautiful profile.
As if he could hear her thoughts, he returned his attention to her, his dark eyes sliding over her body before settling back on her face.
"How are you feeling?" he asked. It's the same question he'd asked her every day since they'd lost Parker.
"Tired." She glanced over his shoulder too the unfolding celebration. "Relieved."
"You're not going to join the celebrations?"
"I just don't have it in me right now."
He hummed in response.
"Wait, why are you even here?"
His brow furrowed and she thought she spotted hurt in his eyes, but he quickly schooled his features.
She placed one hand on his bicep. "That's not what I meant. It's just, it's two o'clock in the morning. Shouldn't you be sleeping?"
He chuckled, a deep throaty sound that sent a thrill running up her spine. "I couldn't sleep. I was waiting to hear what the outcome of the mission was."
Her brow furrowed and her head tilted to one side.
He took a small step forward, minimizing the space between them to an inch or two, and suddenly she was painfully aware of her hand still resting on his arm. She dropped it and he frowned.
"I knew you would be waiting to see what happened. When I heard they were celebrating I took a chance and walked over. Hoping to see you."
"And you looked for me in the shadows? What does that say about me?" She gave a dry laugh, but it sounded a little hollow to her ears.
God, I need rest.
If Ron noticed anything off about her laugh, he didn't let on. He simply shrugged and replied. "That you care about your men. And Easy. And despite wanting to be as far away from all this shit as possible, you'll still show up for them."
Whatever she had prepared herself to hear that was not it. Her words seemed to die in her throat and all she could do was stare into his eyes. She couldn't describe the emotions she found there, but whatever it was her body responded. Her heart picked up pace and she could no longer feel the cold air against her skin. She wanted to swallow and clear the lump that had lodged in her throat but didn't dare to make a sound, afraid it would shatter whatever spell was holding them in place.
Ron reached over and gently tucked some of her stray hair behind one ear. His strong hand came to rest against her neck and jaw. His eyes flicked between hers and her lips. She held her breath, biting her lower lip.
He closed the little space left between them, pinning her between his warm body and the hard wall. His lips met hers. The kiss was gentle, tentative even. Nothing like the heated, drunken one they had shared in Aldbourne all those months ago. One of her hands came to rest against his chest as the other floated up to his cheek, a two-day old stubble scratching her palm.
She kept expecting him to intensify the kiss, and even as they stood there in one another's embrace she wondered why it didn't bother her when he didn't. She was happy, content, but didn't need more. The tingle and anticipation that had permeated the air between them a moment ago was gone, and in its place was a pleasant warmth.
He broke off the kiss but held onto her face, as did she to his. They looked into each other's eyes, and she knew he would find more questions than answers in hers because that is what she saw in his.
As if he'd made up his mind about something, he smiled, it was soft and a little sad, before placing a chaste kiss on her forehead.
"Good night, Jessica," he whispered, his lips moving against her skin.
"Good night, Ron," she replied, and she couldn't understand why she felt like crying again.
Then he was gone, disappearing back into the dark. Cold night air took the place he had occupied a moment earlier and she wrapped her arms around herself for some protection. She felt vulnerable and sad. She wanted him to come back but she wasn't sure why. Did she want him, or did she not want to be alone?
Fuck.
Arlene POV
Every day Beth came to her bedside her eyes frantically darted to the nurse's hands, carefully watching them for any sign that she was going to pull an envelope from her apron. And each day that none appeared, her heart sank further into the pit that her stomach had become.
Today was no different. It had been nearly four weeks since her last letter from Jessica, two since she had written to her. When she had received the devastating news from Alex about what had happened to Parker and Jessica, she was so certain a letter from Jessica would follow within a day or two. Then none came. Joe wrote and she was shocked to find out that he had been one of the men to find Jessica. Alex had omitted that detail from his letter, which made her wonder what else he had left out.
She did take some comfort in the fact that Joe had been there for Jessica and that, based on what he had written, Richard was close as well. But no matter how many times she read and reread Alex and Joe's letters they never brought her any sense of peace because the one person she needed to hear from was silent.
The knot in her guts tightened every day, making it hard to eat to the point where the nurses were starting to comment on it. Had she lost her best friend? Was Jessica so consumed with guilt and anger than she was cutting everyone off, or was it just her? Or had the letters simply gotten lost. She hoped and prayed it was the latter, but the pain in her stomach told her otherwise.
"You should eat dear," Beth's gentle voice pulled her from her dark thoughts.
She tried to smile and felt like her attempt failed when the nurse's eyebrows knitted together.
"This may help." Beth reached into her apron and retrieved a cream envelope. She snatched it from her hand, crumpling the paper in her fist.
"I'll come back later to check on you. Eat," Beth said, but she wasn't listening. She was completely focused on the envelope in her hand.
She recognized Jessica's neat handwriting. Now that the envelope was in her hands though, she hesitated. She had to take a deep breath to stop her stomach's revolt and calm her breathing, even her hands felt clammy despite how cold the hospital ward was.
With more trepidation than she would have thought possible she opened the envelope. With another deep, steadying breath she started to read.
Dearest Arlene.
It's not your fault. You weren't here. Even if you had been, it still wouldn't have been your doing. It's war. Horrible things happen during a war. Horrible things happen away from a war as well I suppose.
The thing is, I was there. I was there during our months in Holland and that nearly fatal escape. I was there in the woods with Parker and the riverbank. If anyone is to blame, it's me. I failed you and him. Whether it was Michael in the woods or some other German it doesn't matter, not really. The ending is the same either way.
I think the grey sky and rain are starting to get to me. The last time I felt this alone was when my mom died.
Alex, John and Nix are doing too good of a job checking up on me and trying to keep me company. They're wonderful, but even when I'm with them a part of me feels isolated. I know if you were here, it wouldn't be the case because you would know which buttons to push to force that part of me to open, connect. I miss you. Desperately.
Ron and I kissed. It was nice and comforting and sweet. But there was no spark or fire. No lust. I mean it was there during the buildup but when our lips met it was simply…nice. I can't tell you if the last few weeks have just robbed me of the energy to get worked up, or if it really is a shift in how I feel about him.
If it's the latter it would be an absolute terrible prank the universe is playing. Richard isn't speaking to me. Hell, he can't seem to stand being in the same room as me for more than a few minutes. I've found myself having to walk away because the alternative was slapping him across his handsome, stoic, face just to get a reaction. Fortunately, our patrols have picked up and we've had to go 'sniper hunting' a few times, so I've had more than enough work to keep me busy. Alex tried to convince me to stay at a desk and rest (I think they're all afraid something bad will happen again), but that was never going to fly. The busier I am right now, the better.
Don't hurry back. Just don't. Recover and come back strong. I need you and miss you, but it's simply not worth rushing back.
Bill has been sent back to England. He was shot while riding a motorcycle and crashed. They expect him to make a full recovery. Luz is doing well. Every time I see him he shoots me a wink as if to tell me our little secret is still safe.
Joe was great, by the way. On the night of the incident. He was strong, poised, reassuring. He was a good friend, a steady presence.
Love you always.
Jessica.
Tears blurred her vision. She put a hand over her mouth to stifle the whimper that accompanied them. She could feel her best friend's anguish, confusion and exhaustion. She had never felt this helpless before in her entire life. Even when her parents were trying to marry her off, she still found a way to take back control, act. But now, trapped in a hospital far from the line, she was unable to help the one person she loved most in the world who needed her.
When the tears started to fall in earnest she laid down, turned her back on the rest of the ward, and buried her head in her pillow to muffle the sounds of the sobs and hide her face. All the pent-up fear and dread that had played havoc on her body for weeks was now soaking her pillow.
Richard POV
The night was wet and cold, with the type of wind that cut through you instead of going around. He huddled deeper into the brick wall while peering over his upturned collar.
Four weeks had passed since Jessica's failed mission across the river, in that time he could count on one hand the number of words they'd exchanged. That was going to change tonight.
Jessica, John and a replacement had been gone for three days on a sniper hunting mission. They were supposed to be gone no more than two, so when the third rolled around he could feel everyone's anticipation ramp up. His own, already heightened emotions, notched up to another level, something which he didn't think was possible. The anger, dread and helplessness got fresh kindling for the fire they had ignited in him weeks ago. It was that ratcheting up that finally slapped him from his self-imposed isolation. Nixon was right. Whether they were an item or not he was going to hate every moment of seeing her in danger, but forcing himself to stay away from her made it all ten times worse.
Damn idiot. He berated himself for the hundredth time that day, and the freezing gust that ripped into him seemed to agree.
But he couldn't undo the last four weeks, even though he desperately wanted to. He just hoped and prayed he hadn't done permanent damage. And he was going to do everything and anything to stack the deck in his favor.
Which is why he'd been standing in the dark and the rain for the last two hours waiting for her to return. He was never going to be able to sleep, it had been difficult before and would now be impossible. So, he waited.
Three figures stepped into the low light cast by a lone bulb hanging outside the aid station's entrance. He couldn't see their faces, but he didn't have to. He instantly recognized Jessica's build and the way she carried herself. His heart leapt into his throat and his feet moved towards her of their own accord.
"Jessica," he called when she hadn't turned in the direction of his approach as he neared them.
She slowly turned her head to look at him over her shoulder, those blue eyes placid and expressionless.
John, however, turned to fully face him, the young Lieutenant staring him down with barely concealed hostility. He knows their team are close, especially the three remaining veterans, so he couldn't be sure what Alex and John knew or not. Had Arlene been here, then he's certain she would be aware of every painful detail. Alex had remained polite and professional, he was a hard man to read, clearly John had not gotten the memo.
Stopping in front of the other man he took a deep breath. "I would like to speak to Captain King."
John scoffed. Jessica remained turned away from him, looking at something in the replacement's hand. He itched to grab her and force her to look at him.
"Captain?" John called her but didn't break eye contact with him.
If looks could kill.
Jessica took a deep breath and patted the replacement's shoulder before coming to stand next to John. "Go get cleaned up and find something warm to eat. I'll make the report to Alex at Battalion CP. He'll be waiting for us. Captain Winters can walk with me."
Alex was waiting for them. He may be the only person who had slept less than Richard had in the last few days.
"You sure?" John asked as if he wasn't standing right there.
"Yeah." The casual way in which she answered made him inwardly wince. Detached and casual with Jessica was never a good sign.
John gave a reluctant nod before shooting him a dark look which promised a fist to the face if he stepped out of line.
He forced a thin-lipped smile in response, as he did everything in his power to keep himself in check and not lash out at the other man.
Jessica took a step towards the CP without waiting for him. He fell in beside her, and now that he no longer had to focus on keeping his temper in check with John, he could openly study her.
The drizzle plastered her blond hair to her skin and little rivulets ran down her cheeks, cutting through the dirt that coated her. Even in the poor light he noticed the dark circles under her eyes and her walking pace was slow, labored. Despite how tired she clearly was her back was straight, shoulders pulled back.
With each step that they got closer to the CP's door the tension, which weighed down the air between them, threatened to completely pull him under.
He risked looking away from her and was relieved when he found the courtyard they were walking through devoid of other people. At this late hour everyone was either sleeping or staying out of the poor weather.
Taking hold of her arm he pulled them to a stop and took a step towards her, so she was looking up at him, the angle making her eyes appear even larger than they were.
She didn't move away from him, or pull her arm out of his hold, but her eyes were giving nothing away.
He cleared the lump in his throat. "Jessica, I'm…I'm sorry."
Her right eye twitched, but she remained deathly silent.
"I realize that isn't enough. I know that. I'm not proud of how I acted the last few weeks."
Her silence stoked the tension between them until he was sure the rain was turning into steam where it touched their skin.
Seconds passed but they felt like hours, and he was painfully aware of her steady breathing and cold gaze.
"Why?" she suddenly asked.
"Why what?"
"Why have you been avoiding me? Why did you walk away? Leave?"
That last statement felt like a slap in the face. He couldn't stop the grimace that pulled at his features. "It's hard to explain."
She rolled her eyes. "I'm smart. I'm sure I can keep up."
"You want to know the truth?"
She jutted her chin out. "Yes."
He took a small step forward, so he was nearly standing on top of her. She swallowed and for the first time since he'd approached her an emotion fluttered in her cold eyes. But it was gone too fast for him to be sure what he saw.
Dropping his head so their faces where only an inch apart, he almost whispered. "Because what I feel for you is overwhelming. I'd always known it, but that night brought it home like a kick to the gut. I couldn't be there for you in the way I wanted to be. Needed to be. So, like an idiot, I decided staying away was for the best. But," a dark laugh rolled up his throat. "I'm jealous of the other men, even Nixon and Alex, when they are close to you. Whenever you go out on patrol I can't sleep, and the endless pile of paperwork isn't enough to chase the images of you from my mind. I search for you in every room I walk into. And when you're not there I'm crushed. But when you are its worse because my entire body demands to get closer to you. So, I leave, because that's the easier, safer option."
He ran a hand over his face as he briefly closed his eyes, waiting to catch his breath. Opening them back up he was met by her blue eyes still staring intently up at him. He shook his head. "That's what I told myself. I was wrong. Neither option is easy or safe, but staying away is bloody torture."
Her eyes softened in the corners as tears glistened in them, but she dropped her gaze and took a shuddering breath. Looking back to him, steadier now, she said, "I needed you and you weren't there. You rejected me. Every day. For weeks."
He grabbed both her shoulders and fought his body to stop it from pulling her against him and crashing their lips together. "I know. And I'm sorry. I'm so damn sorry Jessica."
"I can't…"
His heart dropped into his stomach. His hold on her tightened.
She cleared her throat and shook her head as if to dislodge something. "I can't worry about how you're going to react. I need to know that no matter what happens, you'll be there for me. The alternative is just too fucken exhausting."
"I know. And if you give me a chance you'll never have to wonder again."
"Maybe. We'll see."
He felt the corner of his lips turn up onto the start of a smile. "We'll see? So, I still have a chance?"
"I'll give you a chance to prove to me that you can handle all of this. Me. One chance. And we'll see how things go. But I make no promises."
"Understood. All I need is a chance."
"Jessica!" Alex's voice reached them from where he was standing in the CP's door, arms crossed over his chest as his eyes flicked from Jessica to him.
His hands fell from her shoulders, and he immediately missed her.
She motioned for them to walk together, and it's the happiest he's been in weeks. Honestly, it feels like he can breathe again.
Before they even stopped in front of Alex he said, "We're coming off the line soon. Heading back to France."
Jessica hums. "H'm."
"So is Easy," Richard added.
From the corner of his eye, he caught her glancing over to him, her expression once again unreadable, but when he looked to Alex he was sure he found the start of a smirk on his lips.
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