Title:  “Mission:  Apology”

Author:  Heather Aster

Timeframe:  Post Paraguay

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“I came to apologize.”  As many times as she had rehearsed it in her mind, it still came out clunky and unconvincing.  Why was this so uncomfortable?  Even though she felt like curling up in a ball on his welcome mat, she bravely looked him in the eyes.  His expression ranged from surprised, to curious, to wary.  She stood her ground and waited for him to let her in.

 

“Come in,” he finally said with a casual wave of his hand.   He locked the door behind her and silently took her coat., then sauntered over to the couch and flopped down.  Patting the cushion next to him he offered, “Have a seat.”  Not sure of her intentions, he decided to play it cool.  For now.

 

“Thanks.”  She gave him a quick, nervous smile as she sat down.  Then she noticed the shut, but not locked,  briefcase on the coffee table, pens, sticky notes, and cell phone.  “Um, if you’re busy . . .”

 

“No, I’m not.”  He was still a little wary of her unannounced visit, but her subtly pained expression told him he had sounded callous.  “Just wrapping up my week,” he added.  A quick glance at her eyes confirmed that the softening of his voice hadn’t sounded forced.

 

“Okay.”  She rubbed her sweaty palms on her pants legs, still feeling nervous, uncomfortable, and terribly intrusive.  She looked over at him, lounging back into the corner of the big leather sofa, feet propped on the coffee table, looking for all the world like there was nothing the matter; no unsettled issues between them, no reason to feel anything but indifference to her presence.  And she knew it was all because of her.  She looked down at her hands again and dug deep into her psyche for the strength that had brought her here but had somehow mysteriously dissipated.

 

“What’s on your mind?”  He asked the question, but he had a hunch what the answer was.   A large part of him wanted to be a hard-ass about it, but he hoped that didn’t come across in his voice.  She had hurt him deeply, and her ensuing estrangement had whittled away what little was left of the bridge between them.  But that didn’t mean she deserved his resentment, coming to him now as she was, with her heart in her hands.  He knew it took a lot of courage for her to do this, and for a moment he saw that courage waver.  His open-ended question was his unconscious way of rescuing her yet again.  But he kept his game face on.  He wasn’t ready to let her know she had him at “I came.”  Forget the apology part.

 

It was a long moment of charged silence between them before she finally said, “Paraguay.”

 

Yup.  That was his hunch.  In the months that had followed their little excursion to “the green hell”, he had become philosophical and cavalier about it.  He tried not to let the meaning of it all overtake him with depression.  So he reverted to his standard defense mechanism of joking about danger and pain.  It was the only thing that kept him from slipping over the edge into the dark crevice of haunting memories.  “Thinking of taking one of those ‘extreme vacations’?” he asked wryly.  “I hear they’re popular with Marines these days.”

 

“Uh, no.”  In another world, another time, another place, that would have been funny.  Most of his best wisecracks were at the expense of her beloved Marine Corps, which was only natural for a Navy man.  She knew it was partly defensive, and partly to ease the tension between them, and she usually had a good zinger in return.  This time, however, she couldn’t help but think she was on a fools errand.  This time she couldn’t even fire back a warning shot.  Her strength was foundering again.

 

“Oh.”  When his attempt to lighten the mood failed and he saw the almost-agonized look on her face, he knew he needed to back off and let her speak her peace.  She wasn’t looking at him, but he reached over and gently took one of her clenched fists in his hand.  His touch sent a visible wave of relaxation through her.  Her shoulders slumped, her hands unclenched, and her lip quivered slightly.  She kept her stoic expression, though.  She hadn’t yet done what she had come to do.  He waited.

 

“I want to apologize for . . . Well, a whole lot of things.”

 

“I’m listening.”  This time his voice was soft and soothing without being patronizing.  It was the same voice he had used many times with clients.  The touch of her hand in his had affected him, too.  He was ready to forgive, forget and move on, but he needed to hear what she had to say as much as she needed to say it.

 

“My attitude, things I said, the way I behaved,” she was bolstered by his quiet encouragement and forged ahead.  “I was really awful to you, and you didn’t deserve it . . . especially after what you did for me.”

 

It was painfully true.  Hearing her say it brought back a surge of memories which ricocheted inside his head and his heart.  But he had long ago come to a conclusion as to why she had been that way.  “You were under a lot of stress.  Your defenses were up.”

 

“That’s the problem.  They shouldn’t have been around you.”  The more she said, the easier it was to keep going.  She hadn’t expected to say exactly that, but now that it was out there, she realized how true it was.  She shouldn’t feel defensive around him.  He had been her best and only true friend for so long, but she had thrown it all away in a few moments of confusion and miscommunication.  

 

“You’ve been defensive around me since long before Paraguay.”    He didn’t realize that she didn’t realize that fact until he saw her eyes widen and then squint as she scrutinized herself in her mind.

 

She nodded her acceptance of his observation.  Touche‘.  “I should trust you more,” she conceded.

 

He was kind of surprised by her simple statement and took a moment to consider it.  He knew there were times when he had let her down or given her reasons to doubt his motives, but he never would have thought she didn’t trust him.  As many times as they had been in dangerous situations together and had covered for each other, he had always assumed there was solid ground between them; a deep confidence in each other, regardless of whether they actually were liking each other at any particular moment.  Of course, he knew she was talking about their personal interactions, but it still surprised him that their military camaraderie and trust didn’t translate over to their personal life.  At least not for her.  “Why don’t you?”

 

It was the sixty-four million dollar question; the one she had been struggling with for years.  She had chipped away at it for so long that sometimes she forgot what she was digging for.   Recently, she had finally reached the bottom of the hole and found the answer, and it was what had brought her here tonight.  She had to face that answer and deal with the repercussions.  She looked up into his questioning face, and his eyes full of concern and confusion.  “Fear.”

 

Another surprise, this time one with an instinctive, if imprecise, response.  “You don’t have to be afraid of me.”

 

“It’s not *you* I’m afraid of,” she replied quickly, not wanting him to get the wrong idea.

 

“Then what?”  All aboard the ‘Mystery Train’.  Destination:  the female psyche.   Or at least the psyche of the woman sitting beside him, holding his hand and attempting to explain her soul to him.

 

How to explain the unexplainable?  What was the essence of her fear concerning him?  When it came right down to it, she had spent quite a bit of emotional capital on this man over the years, with little return on investment.  Until Paraguay, that is.  He had paid out dividends in spades when he gave up so much to rescue and protect her, and she had turned him away.  She expected nothing less in return after the way she had treated him.  So to avoid that sad eventuality, she had closed off her heart and walked away from what he had offered her on a silver platter.  She also couldn’t ignore the rust on her soul that had slowly developed over the years from constantly exposing her heart to him, only to be let down time and again.  What did she fear?  “Rejection, disappointment.”

 

Incredulous at her confession he said quietly, “I would never reject you.”

 

“I know it in my head, but my heart . . .”  Her voice caught in her throat.

 

He felt contrite now, and compelled by her candid disclosure. “I know I’ve disappointed you in the past, and I hate myself for it,” he allowed just above a whisper.

 

“Don’t do that.”  The last thing she wanted was to hurt him in yet another way.  She couldn’t handle any more guilt on top of all the rest.

 

Finding a solution in the midst of the murky waters between them, he latched on and firmly implored of her, “No, don’t *you* ever let me disappoint you again.”

 

For the first time a smile cracked her lips and the suggestion of mirth flitted behind her eyes.  She loved his problem-solving impulses, as they were usually simplistic in theory but intricate in execution.  “How am I going to do that?”

 

“Well, you, I mean, I . . .”  As usual, he was stumped for a plan.  He could see the goal, but not how to get there.   She always had a plan, and knowing he was again on the spot with her was as frustrating as always.  He shook his head and looked at her.  She just cocked her head to one side and raised her eyebrows.  Just how are you going to figure this one out, Mister?   He ran his hand through his hair and around  the back of his neck as an answer finally surfaced.  “Just give me a warning next time before I do something stupid.  You know me well-enough to see it coming.”

 

“Will you listen to me?”  Her tone was dubious.  He had rarely listened in the past.

 

“I promise I will.”  He searched her eyes for acceptance, and, not finding as much as he had hoped he added, “It means a lot to me.  You mean a lot to me.”

 

She wasn’t sure how serious he was, but his eyes showed humility and his voice was earnest.  The content of his words was a notion to ponder another time.  For now, she accepted this new challenge.  “I can handle it if you can.”

 

“I’m ready to.”  He was warmed by her shy smile.  He reached over and took her other hand in his.  “Apology accepted, by the way.”

 

His mellow voice was balm for her troubled soul.  All the more so for the words that voice was saying.  Holding hands with him didn’t hurt either.  “Thanks.”

 

“So, what’re you going to do to make it up to me?”

 

The grin, the twinkle in his eye, the husky tone of his voice, all conspired to chase a shiver down her spine.  She had not expected this conversation to resolve itself so well, and now he was taking it to the next level.  It was a level she definitely wanted to explore, but she needed time to process their reconciliation.  There was obviously more to the reconciliation in his mind than ‘apology accepted’.  “Now *that’s* a loaded question,” she hedged.

 

“Could have a loaded answer,” he prodded with a sideways nod and a raised eyebrow.

 

How many times had she seen that flirtatious look, that innuendo-on-a-platter grin?  Enough times to be an expert at fending it off without being offensive.  “Hmmm . .  I didn’t realize I’d have to do penance.  I’ll have to think about it.”

 

“You’ve got ten seconds.  One . . . Two . . . Three . . . .”

 

“Hey!”

 

“Four . . . Five . . . Six . . . “

 

“So what are you going to do if I can’t think of something by the time you get to ten?”

 

“I’ll think of it for you.  Seven . . . Eight . . .”

 

“Is this one of those times I should be warning you against doing something stupid?”  She planted her hands on her hips in defiance.

 

“Nope.  Nine . . .”

 

“C’mon, this isn’t fair!”  She was starting to feel a little indignant now. 

 

“All’s fair.  Ten!  Ready?”

 

“No.”  Oh, that grin of his!

 

“Suit yourself,” he said, standing up.  “C’mere.”  He pulled her up to him.  He looked at her for what seemed like an eternity and an instant, drinking in and savoring everything about her.  In the next moment, he leaned in and captured her unprepared lips with his.

 

Her last muffled sound was a startled, “Wha-?”

 

He kissed her tenderly, and she kissed him back in kind.  Leaning into each other, their kiss deepened, each matching the other passion for passion, emotion for emotion.  She felt all the barriers and walls she had built beginning to crumble inside her.  He felt a soaring freedom unlike any he had ever experienced in any aircraft.  When they finally came up for air, she clung to him and tried to catch her breath.

 

“Mmmmm . . . oh, wow,” was all she could muster.

 

“Starting to get the idea?” he breathed in her ear.

 

“I’ve got quite a few ideas now, as a matter of fact.”

 

“I was hoping you’d say that.”

 

She leaned back and looked up at him.  “We should probably talk about this first.”  It was the last hint of her hesitation and fear slipping away.

 

He shook his head.  “No more talking.”

 

“But -”

 

“Shhhh . . .” he purred and silenced her with another kiss.

 

+Fini+