by Rick Partlow
“You…” he whispered hoarsely, trying to work some moisture into his mouth. “You’re beautiful.”
“Flattery will get you nowhere, Lieutenant.” The light tone of her words was betrayed by the break in her voice as she slid into the back seat beside him. “Are you okay?” She brushed a sweat-matted lock of hair out of his eyes as she ran her fingers gently over the bandage on his side.
“He’ll be fine,” Sergeant Lambert assured her. “It was a clean, through-and-through wound, and we caught it before he lost too much blood. He may have a cracked rib or two, but nothing a Marine can’t shake off.”
“You should have seen it ma’am,” one of the troopers declared—she thought it was Clarke, the autogunner. “There was dead Gomers piled up around him so thick you could of walked on ’em. He stood his ground, bullet in him and all, and chopped ’em down one after another.”
“Semper Fi, sir,” Vinnie grunted proudly.
“Valerie!” Shannon heard Glen Mulrooney’s astonished voice, and twisted around to see the man rushing up to the rover’s side door.
“Oh, my God, Valerie!” Glen pulled her out of the car and into his arms, rocking her back and forth like an infant, tears streaming down his cheeks. “Oh, God, honey! I thought you were dead!”
“Glen?” She shook herself, as if waking from a dream, finally seemed to realize where she was.
“Yes, honey, it’s me,” he assured her, holding her out to arm’s length. “Are you all right, Val? My God, what happened to you?” He glanced from her to Jason, his face clouding over. “Did you let something happen to her?”
“No, Glen.” Valerie put a hand on his arm, her voice stronger, her eyes on Jason. “I’m okay, I swear. We were attacked at Jorge and Carmella’s house—Jorge was killed, but Jason— Lieutenant McKay protected me.”
“Oh.” Glen visibly calmed down. “Uh, well, thank you, Lieutenant,” he nodded to McKay, obviously embarrassed. “I’m sorry.”
Shannon shot a glance at Jock Mahoney. “Help me get him up.”
The enlisted man moved forward and helped Shannon carefully slide Jason out of the car, each of them getting beneath a shoulder and supporting him as he slowly and painfully got to his feet.
“Crossman.” Shannon turned to the Tech-2, who was loitering near the back of the room in his neon-green shorts, arm around the girl who’d accompanied him from the Governor’s mansion. “Take care of Ms. Mendoza and her children. Make sure they have a place to sleep and something to eat, if they need it.”
“Sure thing, ma’am,” he replied, tossing her a salute. He turned to the Hispanic girl beside him, still wearing his borrowed shirt but at least now supplementing it with a pair of borrowed shorts. “Rosalita, why don’t you take them to freshen up and I’ll get them some food?”
“Si, Thomas,” she said, going over to Carmella and taking her hand, speaking to her in soft, comforting tones.
“Where to?” Jock asked Shannon, effortlessly carrying Jason through the garage, heading for the corridor leading back into the shelter.
“My room,” she told him and then looked up to see Nathan Tanaka standing just inside the door, arms folded, observing impassively. She froze, eyes locked with his, each reading in the other a hint of disappointment and a wealth of understanding.
“Lieutenant McKay.” Tanaka stepped forward, blocking their way.
“Yeah?” Jason grunted, eyes squinting in confusion.
“You have my deepest gratitude for safeguarding Ms. O’Keefe,” Nathan told him, executing a sharp, shallow bow. “I am in your debt.”
“It’s my job,” McKay muttered. Behind him, still cradled in Glen’s arms, Valerie’s head snapped up, her desensitized expression sharpening into something between anger and pain.
“As you say.” Tanaka stepped out of their way.
Shannon didn’t glance back at him as she helped Jock carry Jason down the hallway, but she could still see the bittersweet disillusionment in the bodyguard’s expression.
Damn, she thought. I’ve already felt guilty twice today, and I’m not even Catholic.
* * *
Jason lifted slowly from a fuzzy darkness, only gradually aware of an irritating itch in his side and a cool, pleasant sensation on his chest. He opened his eyes cautiously, but the lights were dimmed and it took only a moment for his vision to adjust, and for the light-colored blur above him to solidify into Shannon Stark.
“So you’re finally awake.” She smiled, squeezing out the wet cloth with which she’d been bathing him.
“How long…” he began to ask, but the words caught in a ball of cotton deep in his throat and died with a dry croak. Shannon handed him a cup of water and he gulped at it gratefully, took a deep breath before he was ready to attempt conversation again. “How long have I been out?” he finally finished the question.
“Oh, about…” She checked her wristwatch. “Fifty-six hours.”
“Jee-sus!” His eyes popped open wide and he sat up suddenly, surprised that the sudden movement didn’t cause him more pain. “Two days?”
She pushed him back gently. “Take it easy. The Marine medic says you had a classic case of emotional and physical exhaustion, compounded by loss of blood and a lingering concussion. They’ve got a Smart Bandage on you now,” she nodded at the black plastic patch adhered to his wound, “but you’ve got to stay off your feet and let it work for a couple days.”
“Never liked the idea,” he grumbled, grimacing at the bandage, “of an army of little genetic goblins chewing at my insides.”
“Aren’t you the throwback?” Shannon laughed, using the damp cloth to swab at his forehead. “I don’t believe I’ve ever heard medical nanotech called ‘goblins’ before. Anyway, the bacteria will have the muscle grafted back together soon, and you should be on your feet in no time.”
“Is…” He hesitated. “Are the others all right?”
“I haven’t seen Ms. O’Keefe,” Shannon told him, “but Mulrooney tells me she’s fine, physically. She’s probably still in shock emotionally. Carmella and her children are doing okay—I don’t think the girls have stopped eating since they got here. But their father’s death will hit them sooner or later.”
“What about you?” Jason caught her eye.
“What about me?” She evaded his gaze, trying to concentrate on the sponge bath.
“Lambert told me what happened,” he explained, covering her hands with his. “I was pretty groggy, but I got the gist of it. I guess maybe it’s a little better now that you know some of them survived, but I know what it’s like to watch troops die following your orders. It took me a long time to get my head right—I’m not even sure I have yet.”
“I’m okay,” she assured him. “I’m dealing with it. But thank you,” she ran a hand affectionately over his cheek, “for thinking about me.”
Jason thought he saw a moment’s indecision behind her eyes, just before she leaned over to kiss him. It was just a chaste, friendly kiss at first, but then he was slipping his arms around her, ignoring the slight pain the motion caused in his side. She swung her legs onto the bed, getting a bit more comfortable and giving the kiss her full attention, her tongue flicking playfully between his lips.
“Why, Dr. Stark,” Jason murmured, feeling her warm breath on his cheek. “What a marvelous bedside manner you have.”
“Are you sure,” she asked breathlessly, nibbling at his ear, “that you’re up to this? I wouldn’t want to reopen your wound.”
“Shannon, darling,” he said, guiding her hands beneath the covers, “I am definitely up to this.”
Shannon tossed the blanket aside and Jason was suddenly aware that he was naked beneath it, his excitement visibly apparent. A wicked glint lit up Shannon’s emerald eyes as she quickly stripped off her T-shirt and shorts. Jason watched her undress, his breath catching at the way the soft glow of the ghostlights played over her tanned skin. She was the antithesis of Valerie—toned athleticism to Val’s rounded softness—and he foun
d the difference as arousing as the sight of her body.
Her lips parted slightly, her eyes filled with sexual hunger as she straddled his hips, guiding him into her and slowly, carefully sliding down the length of him. Jason moaned softly at the feel of her warm dampness gripping him and his hands went to her breasts as her back arched like a cat’s, her head thrown back, eyes half-closed.
He tried to thrust himself upward, matching her movements, but had to wince from a sudden twinge of pain in his side. She put a hand on his chest, shaking her head.
“Let me do the work,” she cautioned him. “You’re the patient.”
“Yes, ma’am,” he sighed, settling back.
She worked back into a gentle rhythm, being cautious not to put too much pressure on him, the effort evident in the strain on her face. It was a warm spring shower rather than the raging thunderstorm of the first time, only weeks ago but seemingly a lifetime away. When it was over, she collapsed into the shelter of his arms, nuzzling comfortably into his shoulder with a sigh of contentment.
Jason basked in the warmth of her skin, nostrils filled with the muskiness of their combined sweat, feeling the beat of her heart against his chest. For the first time in weeks, he felt like he could relax—like he could think. And the only thing he could think about was what a bastard he’d been. Here he was, lying in bed with Shannon like nothing had happened, while a few rooms away Val was with her fiancé, pretending the same thing. He wasn’t a particularly religious person, and had few hangups about sex, but this was deception, and it was wrong.
“Shannon,” he said, the sound of his voice breaking the idyllic spell of the moment.
“Yes?” She twisted around in his arms to face him, frowning at his serious expression. “What’s wrong?”
“When it all happened, when we were at the mansion,” he struggled for the words. “I was outside, taking a walk. I couldn’t sleep—you remember, right?”
“Yes, Jason, I remember,” she said.
“Valerie—Ms. O’Keefe—she was out in the garden, too. She was still upset about the attack at the Mendoza’s, and we were talking when the pods came in. I saw one of the pods hit the mansion, saw it catch on fire. We were cut off, and I thought…” His voice trailed off and he had to look away, unable to face her. “We thought all of you were dead.”
“You did the right thing,” she tried to assure him, but he waved it off.
“No, you don’t understand. I knew I had to get her out of there—I knew what my duty was. But we thought you were dead.”
He looked up and saw understanding come into the clarity of her celadon gaze. Clarity, but—to his surprise—not anger or disappointment.
“You slept with her,” Shannon finally put into words what Jason had been trying to say.
“Yeah.” He let his head drop back against the pillow. “I slept with her.”
“Do you love her?” Shannon’s voice was calm and even, almost friendly—and that scared him.
He shook his head. “No. I mean, she’s really nice, and I have a lot more respect for her now than I did a couple months ago. She’s been through a lot, and she’s handled it better than I would have. But we were just alone and scared. We didn’t have anyone else to turn to, and we thought everyone else was dead. I… I didn’t want to think about you—about all of you, Jock, Vinnie and Tom, dying on my command while I got away. I knew I did the right thing, but I still felt like shit, and I didn’t want to think. She helped me not to have to think.” He looked up at her pleadingly. “Do you understand?”
There was a look on her face that he couldn’t quite read, something that might have been compassion or indecision… or relief.
“Yes,” she answered, laying her head back against his chest. “I understand.”
Jason wasn’t sure if that also meant she forgave him, or whether she believed there was anything to forgive, but he didn’t want to push his luck. So he just held her there in the darkness, listening to the quiet softness of her breathing, wondering if she were asleep, and wondering if sleep would come for him anytime soon.
* * *
“No!” Valerie snapped sharply, pulling away from Glen’s grasp and rolling to the other side of the bed.
“Damn it, Val, what’s wrong?” He threw up his hands, falling back against the pillow. “Ever since you got back, you’ve been treating me like a fucking leper!”
“I’m not ready, Glen,” she said tightly, wrapped in shadows, facing away from him. “It’s too soon.”
“Too soon for what?” he demanded. “It’s been over a week since you got here! What happened out there? What haven’t you told me? Damn it, Val, I deserve to know!”
“What about me?” She turned on him, face coming into the glow of the ghostlights on the wall above them, venom in her voice. “What about what I deserve, Glen? Did you ever bother to think about someone besides yourself?”
“But, honey,” he protested, shocked at the outburst, “You know I love you! I just…”
“Oh, you love me,” she sneered, throwing aside the covers and sitting up, the frost-white of her bra standing out from the newly-acquired tan of her skin. “You always throw that around like it’s some magic word that’ll make everything all right. Well, everything’s not all right, Glen!” She sprang out of bed and began feeling around for her clothes in the dark.
“Where are you going?” He shook his head. “It’s the middle of the night.”
She ignored him, stepping into her skirt and pulling on Jason’s khaki overshirt—she’d never given it back to him.
“Val,” Glen insisted, hopping out of bed. “You can’t just run off! You’ve got to tell me what’s wrong!”
“You,” she declared, shaking her head. “You, Glen. You’re what’s wrong. And where I’m going,” she said as she pulled the door open, “is none of your damned business.” Then she was gone, the door slamming behind her.
Glen stood there in his underwear in the middle of the room, mouth open, wanting to follow her but knowing it wouldn’t do any good. He chewed his lip in uncertainty, then suddenly made up his mind. She wouldn’t talk to him, but there was someone he thought she would listen to. He turned on the light and hurriedly began to dress.
Jason’s head snapped up and he peered into the darkness, uncertain if he’d really heard anything or if he’d just dreamed the noise.
Then it came again: a soft but firm knock on the door.
“What?” Shannon rolled over, abruptly sitting up in bed.
“I don’t know.” He rubbed sleep from his eyes as he slowly, gingerly made his way to the door.
When he pulled it open, he was surprised to see Glen Mulrooney standing behind it, looking worried.
“I’m sorry to bother you, Lieutenant,” he said, amazingly cordial. “But we need to talk. It’s important.”
Jason regarded him silently for a moment, considering whether to tell him to come back in the morning—or, rather, later in the morning. But there was an earnestness in the man’s tone that made him change his mind.
“Give me a second to get dressed,” Jason said, shutting the door.
“What’s wrong?” Shannon asked.
“Mulrooney’s got a hard-on for something,” McKay told her, locating his pants. “Try to go back to sleep—I won’t be long.”
Mulrooney was still waiting outside the door when Jason emerged, still bleary-eyed, into the comparative brightness of the hallway.
“So what’s so important,” Jason wanted to know, “that it couldn’t wait till morning?”
“It’s Valerie,” Glen explained. “Something’s wrong. I don’t know if you’ve noticed it.”
“I haven’t talked to her much since we got back,” Jason hemmed uncomfortably. Actually, he’d avoided her like the plague for the last week, not wanting to dredge up anything with her while he was trying to patch his nascent relationship with Shannon.
“Well, she’s been withdrawn.” He shook his head helplessly. “She’s shut me out�
��won’t talk to me about whatever happened. And…” he hesitated. “She doesn’t want me to touch her. You know, in bed.”
“Well, look,” Jason said, running a hand through his hair, “if she doesn’t want to talk to you about it, I’m not sure if it’s my business to tell you.”
“I don’t want you to tell me anything.” Glen raised a hand to halt the idea’s progression. “I want you to talk to her. You went through whatever happened out there with her, so you understand. I think maybe she’d talk to you.”
“I’m not sure if that’s such a good idea,” Jason protested.
“Please,” Glen implored him. “She’s outside, walking around—just outside the front entrance. I’m not sure if she’s safe out there. I mean, there could be animals out there.” His voice, his eyes, were pleading, and finally Jason gave in with a deep, hissing sigh.
“All right,” he agreed. “At least I’ll try to get her back inside.”
“Thank you,” Glen started to say, but Jason was already walking off toward the shelter entrance.
He snagged a flashlight from an equipment shelf on the way into the garage, bypassing the still-closed vehicle doors for a short set of stairs leading up to the small personal access hatch lying open to the side. He ducked out of the dim, chemical striplighting of the unoccupied garage into the brighter glow of Aphrodite’s larger moon, an irregular captured asteroid. The reflected light played over the rocky surface of the plateau overlooking the access road, turning it into a landscape of shadows. Somewhere overhead, a local nightflyer cried plaintively, a haunting, hollow sound that made the hair on the back of Jason’s neck stand up.