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Niceandbrutal
Yes, but-
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Arthur had had enough, heard enough! He slammed the table with his palm, hurt and outraged, and stood up. As he'd already drawn attention to himself with his violent outburst, he struggled to keep his voice low and steady. Through gritted teeth he told her: "I don't know what your endgame is, telling me lies like that. But please don't piss on my leg and tell me it's raining!" 
And with that, he turned around and marched out of the cozy restaurant she'd set up one of their rare dates in. It was hard enough, he thought, getting a date as it was with their conflicting schedules. He'd gone to the date with some apprehension; he'd been given another dangerous job. He and his seasoned crew were going to Ukraine for an extended period of time.
Arthur assumed she'd be upset, begging him not to go. But instead she seemed even more nervous than him when he sat down across the small table from her. She had "something" to tell him. "Something" was the most absurd, outrageous story he'd heard from any of his girlfriends. Military contractor!?
Arthur was marching down darkening streets as night fell and the air cooled, a full head of steam pushing him on. Preposterous! A beautiful woman like her! Flight attendant wasn't good enough, exciting enough? She had to make up stories to keep pace with him!?
Maybe it was his fault? Maybe him telling her about some of the nightmares he'd been through had made her think her life was drab and grey by comparison? Though, nightmares? Now who was being the liar? Self doubt punched the anger out of him, taking the wind out of his sails.
Didn't he secretly relish telling war stories to an innocent audience? Their mingled looks of horror and pity fueled him, fueled his ego, made him feel larger than life, a breed apart. He, Arthur Berg, had seen this, endured this, and he was still standing! Tremble before me, mortals!
Arthur cringed at the stale memories of his self-aggrandizing conduct. And then a new wave of doubt hit him. What if she WAS telling the truth? If that was the case, he could never look her in the eyes again. He'd only told slightly embellished stories, because he HAD seen more than his fair share of horrors and close calls. Still, if she was the real deal she would recognize him for what he was, a thrillseeking war junkie.
-------------------------------------------
Over the next two weeks, Arthur threw himself headfirst into work. A mingled sense of shame and pride pushed him on. He never called her. He rationalised it thus: She was the one who'd lied to him, no matter how you looked at it. She was either a flight attendant lying about being a military contractor, or vice versa. And so he felt she owed it to him to clear the waters and apologise.
(Though deep in the throes of self-doubt at night, he missed her. She was a brilliant and beautiful woman who carried herself with a quiet confidence he'd not seen in many people. He'd more than once caught her staring into space, seemingly a million miles away, snapping to with a loving smile when he gently called her name. The good memories haunted him, but his anger and pride stopped him from reaching out.)
His editor, Charles Wittman, broke him out of his reverie. A big meaty paw on Arthur's shoulder brought him back to the here and now. "Arthur! The studio executives in their wisdom have decided that you and your crew are not to go to Ukraine without some form of protection." Oh no. Babysitters. Arthur rolled his eyes in exasperation. "Oh editor of mine," Arthur began, well established humorous sarcasm at the ready, "didst thou explaineth to the Powers That Be that A: My crew and I are adults and B: Know our way around a war zone and C: Travel faster and safer the fewer we are?"
Charles wasn't in the mood. "Save it, Arthur. Decision is made, it's out of my hands. We have set up a meet and greet with your crew and the team leader." Arthur opened his mouth to protest again, and Charles cut him off with a bite of anger: "SAVE IT, Arthur! I don't want to HEAR it! It's either this, or we send you to Poughkeepsie to cover fucking bake sales. This is non-negotiable, Arthur. Play ball or go home." Arthur relented with an impatient shrug, and they went into the conference room together. His camera operator, Lindsay Rollins, and his all-round tech person, William Olsen, sat waiting, feeble waves with their hands acknowledging Arthur's presence.
Arthur sat down and tried starting up some small talk with his crew, but the presence of his editor and network bigwigs deflated their regular off-colour banter. And so seconds turned into minutes, until they heard movement outside the door, a quick and gentle knock, and then they opened up to the worst personal surprise in Arthur's life.
No. Just no. FUCK no! This was a joke! Arthur's mouth fell open. He looked around the room to see if someone was playing him. Everyone's attention was fixed on Nicole. Not one smirk was thrown his way. So... this was the real deal. SHE was the real deal! "OK", a small voice in the back of his head said, "at least now you know what she lied about!" The absurdity of that notion of cold comfort had him almost laughing out loud.
Arthur had never seen Nicole at work before, obviously, so he had no way of gauging how affected she was by all this. She started in on a presentation, and Arthur watched her as if he was seeing her for the first time. The chocolate brown hair, those deep soulful eyes, the lithe yet toned and well trained body, her calloused hands (she'd explained those away with self defense classes because handsy passengers). Nicole. But as if she wasn't the Nicole he knew.
How experienced was she? How many people had she killed in the line of duty? How could she be sweet cuddly Nicole with him and a killer for hire for a living? His head was fit to explode. For a brief moment a panic attack reared its ugly head, but he bit it down. No. She would NOT see him weak! And a realisation hit him: SHE worked for HIM!
Arthur's hand shot in the air and as soon as the sudden and unexpected movement made her turn her head, his journalist training got the better of him and he shot out: "Since we will be working together, I would feel better knowing something about YOU, Nicole! Can you tell us something about your qualifications and experience, please."
It was a cheap shot to be sure, but not an entirely unreasonable question, given the circumstances. Still, Arthur was not very proud of himself, and he stared at her forehead to avoid looking her in the eyes. Charles, Lindsay, and William looked at him with mixed surprise and annoyance as he sat with his hands folded on the table in front of him, looking fixedly at Nicole, awaiting her response.
And with that, he turned around and marched out of the cozy restaurant she'd set up one of their rare dates in. It was hard enough, he thought, getting a date as it was with their conflicting schedules. He'd gone to the date with some apprehension; he'd been given another dangerous job. He and his seasoned crew were going to Ukraine for an extended period of time.
Arthur assumed she'd be upset, begging him not to go. But instead she seemed even more nervous than him when he sat down across the small table from her. She had "something" to tell him. "Something" was the most absurd, outrageous story he'd heard from any of his girlfriends. Military contractor!?
Arthur was marching down darkening streets as night fell and the air cooled, a full head of steam pushing him on. Preposterous! A beautiful woman like her! Flight attendant wasn't good enough, exciting enough? She had to make up stories to keep pace with him!?
Maybe it was his fault? Maybe him telling her about some of the nightmares he'd been through had made her think her life was drab and grey by comparison? Though, nightmares? Now who was being the liar? Self doubt punched the anger out of him, taking the wind out of his sails.
Didn't he secretly relish telling war stories to an innocent audience? Their mingled looks of horror and pity fueled him, fueled his ego, made him feel larger than life, a breed apart. He, Arthur Berg, had seen this, endured this, and he was still standing! Tremble before me, mortals!
Arthur cringed at the stale memories of his self-aggrandizing conduct. And then a new wave of doubt hit him. What if she WAS telling the truth? If that was the case, he could never look her in the eyes again. He'd only told slightly embellished stories, because he HAD seen more than his fair share of horrors and close calls. Still, if she was the real deal she would recognize him for what he was, a thrillseeking war junkie.
-------------------------------------------
Over the next two weeks, Arthur threw himself headfirst into work. A mingled sense of shame and pride pushed him on. He never called her. He rationalised it thus: She was the one who'd lied to him, no matter how you looked at it. She was either a flight attendant lying about being a military contractor, or vice versa. And so he felt she owed it to him to clear the waters and apologise.
(Though deep in the throes of self-doubt at night, he missed her. She was a brilliant and beautiful woman who carried herself with a quiet confidence he'd not seen in many people. He'd more than once caught her staring into space, seemingly a million miles away, snapping to with a loving smile when he gently called her name. The good memories haunted him, but his anger and pride stopped him from reaching out.)
His editor, Charles Wittman, broke him out of his reverie. A big meaty paw on Arthur's shoulder brought him back to the here and now. "Arthur! The studio executives in their wisdom have decided that you and your crew are not to go to Ukraine without some form of protection." Oh no. Babysitters. Arthur rolled his eyes in exasperation. "Oh editor of mine," Arthur began, well established humorous sarcasm at the ready, "didst thou explaineth to the Powers That Be that A: My crew and I are adults and B: Know our way around a war zone and C: Travel faster and safer the fewer we are?"
Charles wasn't in the mood. "Save it, Arthur. Decision is made, it's out of my hands. We have set up a meet and greet with your crew and the team leader." Arthur opened his mouth to protest again, and Charles cut him off with a bite of anger: "SAVE IT, Arthur! I don't want to HEAR it! It's either this, or we send you to Poughkeepsie to cover fucking bake sales. This is non-negotiable, Arthur. Play ball or go home." Arthur relented with an impatient shrug, and they went into the conference room together. His camera operator, Lindsay Rollins, and his all-round tech person, William Olsen, sat waiting, feeble waves with their hands acknowledging Arthur's presence.
Arthur sat down and tried starting up some small talk with his crew, but the presence of his editor and network bigwigs deflated their regular off-colour banter. And so seconds turned into minutes, until they heard movement outside the door, a quick and gentle knock, and then they opened up to the worst personal surprise in Arthur's life.
No. Just no. FUCK no! This was a joke! Arthur's mouth fell open. He looked around the room to see if someone was playing him. Everyone's attention was fixed on Nicole. Not one smirk was thrown his way. So... this was the real deal. SHE was the real deal! "OK", a small voice in the back of his head said, "at least now you know what she lied about!" The absurdity of that notion of cold comfort had him almost laughing out loud.
Arthur had never seen Nicole at work before, obviously, so he had no way of gauging how affected she was by all this. She started in on a presentation, and Arthur watched her as if he was seeing her for the first time. The chocolate brown hair, those deep soulful eyes, the lithe yet toned and well trained body, her calloused hands (she'd explained those away with self defense classes because handsy passengers). Nicole. But as if she wasn't the Nicole he knew.
How experienced was she? How many people had she killed in the line of duty? How could she be sweet cuddly Nicole with him and a killer for hire for a living? His head was fit to explode. For a brief moment a panic attack reared its ugly head, but he bit it down. No. She would NOT see him weak! And a realisation hit him: SHE worked for HIM!
Arthur's hand shot in the air and as soon as the sudden and unexpected movement made her turn her head, his journalist training got the better of him and he shot out: "Since we will be working together, I would feel better knowing something about YOU, Nicole! Can you tell us something about your qualifications and experience, please."
It was a cheap shot to be sure, but not an entirely unreasonable question, given the circumstances. Still, Arthur was not very proud of himself, and he stared at her forehead to avoid looking her in the eyes. Charles, Lindsay, and William looked at him with mixed surprise and annoyance as he sat with his hands folded on the table in front of him, looking fixedly at Nicole, awaiting her response.
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Niceandbrutal
Yes, but-
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"It's not about standards," Arthur retorted. "It's about knowing the people I am entrusting my life to. My dossier is available for you to look at, if you want to. I find it's important to fully trust the people next to me in a... working relationship. So yes, I would like to see your resumes,seeing as I'll be the one calling the shots on this assignment." Charles stared daggers at him, his whole demeanour shouting "what the Hell!?" Lindsay looked at him, puzzled, while William just looked at him like he was an interesting zoo animal.
The silence in the room was palpable as everyone stared at him, he realised. "Please, I've said what I wanted to say. Continue your presentation." He leaned back in his chair and stared brazenly at Nicole and her team.
Inwardly, Arthur had to admit that he was impressed. He'd never been told so expertly to fuck off by anyone like she'd just done. She had serious bite. She was, it appeared, hard as nails. Which was good for what they were about to embark on, but disconcerting on a personal level.
Which was the real Nicole? Was it the sweet and cuddly yet thoughtful woman he'd grown to... yes, LOVE, damnit, over the last 6 months, or was it the battle clad ice cold statue in front of him? Could the two be the same? If yes, how? If no, which persona was an act? Watching Nicole intently, he was on the verge of another panic attack but fought it down, his eyes the only indication of his inner turmoil.
He lasted through the presentation and the following meet and greet. William seemed to hit it off with one of Nicole's team, and Lindsay usually got along with everyone. Arthur did a perfunctory round of the room, avoiding Nicole who was waylaid by and talking with Charles. As Arthur ran out of people to talk to, he had the choice of sucking up his pride and saying hello to her or flee the room.
He chose to bite the bullet and say hello, though it felt awkward as hell. He came up behind Charles who was talking about... him. Nicole's attention seemed to be fully on Charles as he apologised about Arthur using terms like "frayed nerves" and "too many dangerous assignments". Arthur froze. What the hell? Was Charles implying that he couldn't hack it anymore?
Arthur didn't know what to do or say. He cleared his throat loudly and gave Nicole a perfunctory handshake. "Good presentation. You guys sound like a good team. Looking forward to reading your dossiers. If you'll excuse me, tons of stuff to prepare. I need to get on with it. I'll make an itinerary and email you a copy as soon as I finalise negotiations with State and my local contacts."
And with that, he nodded to Charles and Nicole and briskly walked out of the room. He made it to the toilet before throwing up. This was too much. He was angry with Nicole for lying to him. He was scared both of her and for her. He still had feelings for her. He could not compromise her or himself by revealing the relationship they'd had for six months.
Panic finally engulfed him and he sat down on the toilet seat. He got the Xanax the doctor had prescribed him and swallowed one. And then he sat and let it take effect as his mind slowly calmed down. Fuck, but he needed the clarity of war and dire straits. It was less stressful than this bullshit of relationships and politics.
He got out of the bathroom and went to his office, where Lindsay was waiting for him. "What the Hell is riding you, Art?" she fired off as soon as he walked in. She was a tall and muscular woman, older than Arthur, married, and mother of two kids of school age. Arthur tried playing it cool, but she managed to finagle the story out of him after threatening to resign.
After Arthur had told why he seemed so hostile to Nicole, she just nodded with a blank look in her eyes. "Boy you sure know how to pick'em," she said, causing Arthur to roar with laughter. Mid-laughter, his office door opened, and Nicole and Charles marched in. "Lindsay, out," Charles barked, which put a stop to Arthur's laughing fit.
Charles handed Arthur 5 dossiers. "These will leave the room only with Nicole. I am not allowed to read'em. And Nicole will stay with you to ensure you don't copy or remove anything."
And with that, Charles left the office, leaving Arthur and Nicole in the festering awkwardness. There were a million things he wanted to say to her, but he didn't trust himself enough to open his goddamn mouth. And so, looking at Nicole, he reached for her dossier and pulled it towards himself. "Alone at last," he said in an oddly upbeat voice as be opened the file on the woman he'd thought might be the love of his life.
The silence in the room was palpable as everyone stared at him, he realised. "Please, I've said what I wanted to say. Continue your presentation." He leaned back in his chair and stared brazenly at Nicole and her team.
Inwardly, Arthur had to admit that he was impressed. He'd never been told so expertly to fuck off by anyone like she'd just done. She had serious bite. She was, it appeared, hard as nails. Which was good for what they were about to embark on, but disconcerting on a personal level.
Which was the real Nicole? Was it the sweet and cuddly yet thoughtful woman he'd grown to... yes, LOVE, damnit, over the last 6 months, or was it the battle clad ice cold statue in front of him? Could the two be the same? If yes, how? If no, which persona was an act? Watching Nicole intently, he was on the verge of another panic attack but fought it down, his eyes the only indication of his inner turmoil.
He lasted through the presentation and the following meet and greet. William seemed to hit it off with one of Nicole's team, and Lindsay usually got along with everyone. Arthur did a perfunctory round of the room, avoiding Nicole who was waylaid by and talking with Charles. As Arthur ran out of people to talk to, he had the choice of sucking up his pride and saying hello to her or flee the room.
He chose to bite the bullet and say hello, though it felt awkward as hell. He came up behind Charles who was talking about... him. Nicole's attention seemed to be fully on Charles as he apologised about Arthur using terms like "frayed nerves" and "too many dangerous assignments". Arthur froze. What the hell? Was Charles implying that he couldn't hack it anymore?
Arthur didn't know what to do or say. He cleared his throat loudly and gave Nicole a perfunctory handshake. "Good presentation. You guys sound like a good team. Looking forward to reading your dossiers. If you'll excuse me, tons of stuff to prepare. I need to get on with it. I'll make an itinerary and email you a copy as soon as I finalise negotiations with State and my local contacts."
And with that, he nodded to Charles and Nicole and briskly walked out of the room. He made it to the toilet before throwing up. This was too much. He was angry with Nicole for lying to him. He was scared both of her and for her. He still had feelings for her. He could not compromise her or himself by revealing the relationship they'd had for six months.
Panic finally engulfed him and he sat down on the toilet seat. He got the Xanax the doctor had prescribed him and swallowed one. And then he sat and let it take effect as his mind slowly calmed down. Fuck, but he needed the clarity of war and dire straits. It was less stressful than this bullshit of relationships and politics.
He got out of the bathroom and went to his office, where Lindsay was waiting for him. "What the Hell is riding you, Art?" she fired off as soon as he walked in. She was a tall and muscular woman, older than Arthur, married, and mother of two kids of school age. Arthur tried playing it cool, but she managed to finagle the story out of him after threatening to resign.
After Arthur had told why he seemed so hostile to Nicole, she just nodded with a blank look in her eyes. "Boy you sure know how to pick'em," she said, causing Arthur to roar with laughter. Mid-laughter, his office door opened, and Nicole and Charles marched in. "Lindsay, out," Charles barked, which put a stop to Arthur's laughing fit.
Charles handed Arthur 5 dossiers. "These will leave the room only with Nicole. I am not allowed to read'em. And Nicole will stay with you to ensure you don't copy or remove anything."
And with that, Charles left the office, leaving Arthur and Nicole in the festering awkwardness. There were a million things he wanted to say to her, but he didn't trust himself enough to open his goddamn mouth. And so, looking at Nicole, he reached for her dossier and pulled it towards himself. "Alone at last," he said in an oddly upbeat voice as be opened the file on the woman he'd thought might be the love of his life.
Niceandbrutal
Yes, but-
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Being this close to her and alone with her under the circumstances was unnerving. It didn't help that she assumed a military "at ease" stance. But he was stubborn enough to not let it show. So with a deliberate sigh, he started in on the dossiers. All of her team were Ranger qualified, with further training redacted.
Art knew that the Army Rangers were already considered elite infantry and generally badass. The redacted training hinted at Special Forces, Delta, Tier 1, secondment to various intelligence services in the alphabet soup of the vast US intelligence community. Arthur shivered and found himself on the verge of tears for a moment. Blinking rapidly and pushing the unwelcome emotions down, he continued reading.
She'd joined the Army pretty much right after graduation and had made herself noticed early on as an excellent soldier. Which meant she was good at following orders, fit in well with a group, had strength, endurance, and a quick head. Which pointed to a rough but disciplined upbringing. No criminal record, as that would preclude any SpecOps training. Damn. She really was the real deal. But he found it hard to connect her dossier and the ramrod straight soldier in front of him with the woman he'd met by chance one dreary sunday in November.
He had visited an art gallery and had stopped before a particularly dense and challenging piece of modern art. There were several people studying it, and Arthur had shared a wry comment about the painting with no one in particular. A few chuckles and guffaws was his reward, along with a high clear laughter, unmistakeably female. Arthur turned towards the source and felt his heart lurch as he for the first time gazed into Nicole's eyes.
Just like that, they were standing next to each other and discussing the offending piece in particular and art in general. And just like that they were in lock step, touring the rest of the exhibition like they were long lost friends meeting each other by chance. And when they were nearig the end of the exhibition, before they even had the chance to become awkward and wondering how to prolong that wonderful chance meeting, Nicole had suggested lunch at a nearby diner as if it was the most natural thing in the world.
They had talked and talked between healthy bites of food, and Arthur had marveled at how effortless it was between them, how there seemed to be no barriers between them. They made a whole day of it with a long walk and a dinner with a fair amount of wine, and he had offered to walk her home, stating that a beautiful woman like her was in need of a knight in shining armour, and how his name was Arthur, like the king, after all.
He'd been rewarded with her clear peal of laughter again at that cheesy statement, but she had grabbed his arm when he offered it and guided him to her apartment. Outside, and he had brazenly given her a quick peck on the mouth. She gave him a look as if to say "that's all?" She stepped up to Arthur and gave him a deeper kiss that took his breath away before looking him deeply in the eyes, saying "the night doesn't have to be over yet."
Then followed protestations from Arthur who didn't want her to think that this was what he'd been angling for. He grew more and more flustered as he stumbled over his own words, trying to put words to his sucker punched emotions. She just stood there, patiently nodding and with a half-amused, half-teasing look in her eyes while Arthur assured her of his noble intentions and how he'd developed feelings for her.
At that, she'd put a finger on his lips and whispered "I know. But I don't want to waste any damn time. And I want you. Now." Arthur was not made of stone. He went with her up to her apartment, and a night of tender and enthusiastic lovemaking followed...
Arthur snapped out of his reverie. He looked at her again. He tried looking at her, almost squinting his eyes to see the two Nicoles he knew, or thought he knew. Her eyes were fixed forward as if on parade, which he found annoying. He sighed. "I'm hoping we can work through this and put it behind us. I miss you, Nicole." No reaction. Well goddamn her, was she expecting an apology from him!? "Nicole!?" Sharper tone of voice now, clearly annoyed.
“I’m sorry. You’re done with the folders?”
"The fol-? YES I am done with the folders, Nicole. If you'll excuse me, I have to talk to the press liaison of the Ukraine military. They need to be informed of the added personell to expect from us. Please close the door behind you."
He felt like crying. He'd extended an olive branch and she'd replied with a damn flame thrower. Well fuck her!
Art knew that the Army Rangers were already considered elite infantry and generally badass. The redacted training hinted at Special Forces, Delta, Tier 1, secondment to various intelligence services in the alphabet soup of the vast US intelligence community. Arthur shivered and found himself on the verge of tears for a moment. Blinking rapidly and pushing the unwelcome emotions down, he continued reading.
She'd joined the Army pretty much right after graduation and had made herself noticed early on as an excellent soldier. Which meant she was good at following orders, fit in well with a group, had strength, endurance, and a quick head. Which pointed to a rough but disciplined upbringing. No criminal record, as that would preclude any SpecOps training. Damn. She really was the real deal. But he found it hard to connect her dossier and the ramrod straight soldier in front of him with the woman he'd met by chance one dreary sunday in November.
He had visited an art gallery and had stopped before a particularly dense and challenging piece of modern art. There were several people studying it, and Arthur had shared a wry comment about the painting with no one in particular. A few chuckles and guffaws was his reward, along with a high clear laughter, unmistakeably female. Arthur turned towards the source and felt his heart lurch as he for the first time gazed into Nicole's eyes.
Just like that, they were standing next to each other and discussing the offending piece in particular and art in general. And just like that they were in lock step, touring the rest of the exhibition like they were long lost friends meeting each other by chance. And when they were nearig the end of the exhibition, before they even had the chance to become awkward and wondering how to prolong that wonderful chance meeting, Nicole had suggested lunch at a nearby diner as if it was the most natural thing in the world.
They had talked and talked between healthy bites of food, and Arthur had marveled at how effortless it was between them, how there seemed to be no barriers between them. They made a whole day of it with a long walk and a dinner with a fair amount of wine, and he had offered to walk her home, stating that a beautiful woman like her was in need of a knight in shining armour, and how his name was Arthur, like the king, after all.
He'd been rewarded with her clear peal of laughter again at that cheesy statement, but she had grabbed his arm when he offered it and guided him to her apartment. Outside, and he had brazenly given her a quick peck on the mouth. She gave him a look as if to say "that's all?" She stepped up to Arthur and gave him a deeper kiss that took his breath away before looking him deeply in the eyes, saying "the night doesn't have to be over yet."
Then followed protestations from Arthur who didn't want her to think that this was what he'd been angling for. He grew more and more flustered as he stumbled over his own words, trying to put words to his sucker punched emotions. She just stood there, patiently nodding and with a half-amused, half-teasing look in her eyes while Arthur assured her of his noble intentions and how he'd developed feelings for her.
At that, she'd put a finger on his lips and whispered "I know. But I don't want to waste any damn time. And I want you. Now." Arthur was not made of stone. He went with her up to her apartment, and a night of tender and enthusiastic lovemaking followed...
Arthur snapped out of his reverie. He looked at her again. He tried looking at her, almost squinting his eyes to see the two Nicoles he knew, or thought he knew. Her eyes were fixed forward as if on parade, which he found annoying. He sighed. "I'm hoping we can work through this and put it behind us. I miss you, Nicole." No reaction. Well goddamn her, was she expecting an apology from him!? "Nicole!?" Sharper tone of voice now, clearly annoyed.
“I’m sorry. You’re done with the folders?”
"The fol-? YES I am done with the folders, Nicole. If you'll excuse me, I have to talk to the press liaison of the Ukraine military. They need to be informed of the added personell to expect from us. Please close the door behind you."
He felt like crying. He'd extended an olive branch and she'd replied with a damn flame thrower. Well fuck her!
Niceandbrutal
Yes, but-
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Arthur all but bulldozed his way out of his office, anger clouding his judgment. He was beyond livid now. Why, when he had tried reaching out to her, had she not engaged with him. The least they could do was to try to clear the air but no, she opted for the killbot automaton behaviour instead!
Arthur spent the rest of the afternoon dealing with the Ukrainian liaison for foreign media. They were more than accommodating, especially when Nicole's name popped up. "Nicole Mason?" the voice on the other end of the line said. "Then you are in good hands and need no escort from us. We lend you armored vehicle and you bring along liaison officer."
Arthur should have expected this, but was still surprised to hear someone else speak about her like she was a minor celebrity. "So you know her from earlier," Arthur inquired. His press contact, Vladimir, burst out laughing. "Know her!? My friend, if Zelenskij gets his hands on her, he will place our highest order on her, mercenary or not." There followed an unbelievable story of how private military contractors, backed financially by the US government, had been dispatched to hunt down and take out teams of chechen special forces sent in to assassinate Volodimir Zelenskij. Nicole's team had been the most successful, and Nicole had at one point single handedly killed three chechens that came perilously close to killing the ukrainian president.
Arthur sat there listening, dumbstruck. How? What? Nicole? Chechens? KILLED!? Arthur grew dizzy and he started hyperventilating. Nicole was a killer. The sweet and lively woman he had romanced and bedded... a killer. Not a murderer at least, his brain whispered to him amidst the cacophony of the Ukrainian press liaison blathering on. Arthur started laughing hysterically. The Ukrainian on the other end laughed along, yelling "I know! Is funny!"
Arthur finished the conversation as quickly and politely as possible, then sat on the couch, thinking. His mind wandered back to the morning after they'd met.
He woke up before she did. She was deep in her sleep, looking happy and serene. Arthur had propped his head up on his hand as he lay next to her and just watched her. Her breath was slow, deep, and steady, and she did not snore. He watched her boobs rise and fall steadily with each breath she drew, the nipples hard enough to cut glass.
He gazed at them with longing and admiration before covering them with the blanket. He quietly got out of bed and rummaged about in her kitchen until he found the ingredients necessary to make coffee. The day was sunny and crisp, the perfect autumn day. And a Monday. Thing was, they were both spending some vacation days, so a sunny Monday would not go to waste.
He made two cups of coffee, making hers the way she'd ordered it at the diner the day before. He brought the cups back to the bedroom but stopped in the doorway. She was apparently still asleep, but the blanket had been pulled down, baring her breasts again. A hint of a smile played across her lips as she "slept", a full head of bed hair like a cute halo around her head.
Arthur had smiled at the playfulness on display, and he went along with her deception. He placed the mugs of coffee on the night stand and slithered back into bed again. He could see her having a hard time keeping a straight face, and he just found her irresistibly cute and beautiful. He lowered his head and placed a nipple in his mouth, gently sucking it and flicking it with his tongue. Her breathing changed and he made as if to gently stroke her, only to start tickling her vigorously.
She screamed with laughter and pounded her fists feebly on him as he tickled her mercilessly. She begged him to stop and he relented. Then he leaned in and kissed her deeply and the coffee stood forgotten on the night stand as they made love in the early morning on that late autumn day.
Thinking back on that innocent scene, Arthur found it even harder to reconcile that with what he'd just been told. She had always been so sweet when they met, so fun, so... innocent. Was it an act? Was the automaton the real her or a mask she put on for work? He'd read about SpecOps soldiers who had lashed out on instinct, muscle memory taking over in normal situations because the soldiers were triggered. No such incident had ever occurred with Nicole. Did she trust him so completely that she let her guard down, or...
Arthur smacked his head in frustration. He had done all that needed to be done at the office. He needed to go home and pack for the assignment.
Back home, and all boring matters like rent and services had been taken care of. He had packed a bag, mostly with undies, t-shirts, and socks. He had hung up his ballistic vest and was patching it up with needle, thread, and duct tape, listening to some light classical music.
Was it true love when you heard the voice of the one you loved or thought you love out of the blue? Only, he could have sworn he heard her voice just then. Shaking his head, annoyed with himself, he started up the patching of the vest again. And there it was again. Her voice. His head had tuned out the knocking, since the door was so thin he could hear when people knocked on his neighbours' doors.
He stopped the music, and the following silence was so complete that his ears were ringing. He heard her lean against his door and slide down on the floor, still talking. Her words broke his heart and hollowed out the righteous anger that had sustained him, and he suddenly felt nothing but exhaustion. Nicole... He fought back the tears, wiping irritably at his eyes as treacherous tears welled up.
Arthur stood by the door, two fingers gently pressed against it, indecision tormenting him when common sense made up his mind for him. He heard old Mrs. Washington's door open. Mrs. Washington was a southern black widow whose successful lawyer son had put her in Arthur's apartment complex. She was a sweet and opinionated busybody who had teased Arthur and Nicole about lack of sleep due to the "ungodly noises" they'd made after another session of loud lovemaking.
"Miss Nicole? Whatchu doin' out here. Why isn't Mr. Arthur openin' his door? Are you having a lover's spat? I swear, you young'uns waste your time on this drama!" It's worth mentioning at this point that sweet old Mrs. Washington was hard of hearing and spoke LOUDLY! Arthur heard shuffling of slippered feet and an impatient "move over girl, I'll set that silly man straight!" And then folliwed a barrage of loud thumps from the tiny white haired black woman as she yelled, "MISTER ARTHUR BERG, YOU OPEN YOUR DOOR THIS INSTANT AND LET MISS NICOLE IN! GWAN ARTHUR, I KNOW YOU IN THERE AND I KNOW YOU LISTENIN'!"
Arthur opened the door and nodded at Mrs. Washington. "Good evening, Corinthia. Nicole, you'd better come in before Mrs. Washington here spanks us both." He let Nicole inside the apartment and closed the door. He held a hand up to quiet Nicole as he listened at his door for half a minute before loudly proclaiming: "Mrs. Washington, I am not discussing anything with Nicole until you go back inside of your apartment." He was rewarded with an impatient and offended huff, followed by the shuffle of slippers and a door shutting, loudly.
"Alone at last, again" he muttered. He had his emotions reasonably under control and could stand to look at a very civilian clad and looking Nicole. "Oh God, where to begin," he sighed. "I understand and can actually forgive the need for OpSec (operational security). Although I hate being so blatantly lied to it's something I might forgive, given the circumstances. I just wish you'd told me sooner."
That was the easy part. "But who the Hell even ARE you, Nicole? Is that even your real name!? I mean, we spend our free time together, and you're the sweetest, funniest, smartest, cutest woman," his voice started breaking, "I've ever been with! Ever! And suddenly you yank the rug out from under me, telling me you're a mercenary. Up until you opened your mouth in the office today I thought it was a sick joke or a lie you made up to make yourself seem more interesting. But no, apparently you're the real deal! Worse, I learned this afternoon that you've killed at least three chechen assassins and that your team had the highest success rate in hunting them down!"
Tears were streaming down his face now, and he impatiently wiped them away. "I've accepted what you are, but I can't reconcile what I've heard about you with how I know you! Which part of you is an act? How can you switch personas like that? Who can... how can... what? Who are you," he finished with a weak voice.
The steam had run out of him. He exhaled loudly and slumped down on his couch, covering his eyes. He half expected her to leave, to shut him out. At this point he was beyond caring. PTSD was almost rearing its ugly head, and a panic attack was poking at him as he sat there waiting for her response.
Arthur spent the rest of the afternoon dealing with the Ukrainian liaison for foreign media. They were more than accommodating, especially when Nicole's name popped up. "Nicole Mason?" the voice on the other end of the line said. "Then you are in good hands and need no escort from us. We lend you armored vehicle and you bring along liaison officer."
Arthur should have expected this, but was still surprised to hear someone else speak about her like she was a minor celebrity. "So you know her from earlier," Arthur inquired. His press contact, Vladimir, burst out laughing. "Know her!? My friend, if Zelenskij gets his hands on her, he will place our highest order on her, mercenary or not." There followed an unbelievable story of how private military contractors, backed financially by the US government, had been dispatched to hunt down and take out teams of chechen special forces sent in to assassinate Volodimir Zelenskij. Nicole's team had been the most successful, and Nicole had at one point single handedly killed three chechens that came perilously close to killing the ukrainian president.
Arthur sat there listening, dumbstruck. How? What? Nicole? Chechens? KILLED!? Arthur grew dizzy and he started hyperventilating. Nicole was a killer. The sweet and lively woman he had romanced and bedded... a killer. Not a murderer at least, his brain whispered to him amidst the cacophony of the Ukrainian press liaison blathering on. Arthur started laughing hysterically. The Ukrainian on the other end laughed along, yelling "I know! Is funny!"
Arthur finished the conversation as quickly and politely as possible, then sat on the couch, thinking. His mind wandered back to the morning after they'd met.
He woke up before she did. She was deep in her sleep, looking happy and serene. Arthur had propped his head up on his hand as he lay next to her and just watched her. Her breath was slow, deep, and steady, and she did not snore. He watched her boobs rise and fall steadily with each breath she drew, the nipples hard enough to cut glass.
He gazed at them with longing and admiration before covering them with the blanket. He quietly got out of bed and rummaged about in her kitchen until he found the ingredients necessary to make coffee. The day was sunny and crisp, the perfect autumn day. And a Monday. Thing was, they were both spending some vacation days, so a sunny Monday would not go to waste.
He made two cups of coffee, making hers the way she'd ordered it at the diner the day before. He brought the cups back to the bedroom but stopped in the doorway. She was apparently still asleep, but the blanket had been pulled down, baring her breasts again. A hint of a smile played across her lips as she "slept", a full head of bed hair like a cute halo around her head.
Arthur had smiled at the playfulness on display, and he went along with her deception. He placed the mugs of coffee on the night stand and slithered back into bed again. He could see her having a hard time keeping a straight face, and he just found her irresistibly cute and beautiful. He lowered his head and placed a nipple in his mouth, gently sucking it and flicking it with his tongue. Her breathing changed and he made as if to gently stroke her, only to start tickling her vigorously.
She screamed with laughter and pounded her fists feebly on him as he tickled her mercilessly. She begged him to stop and he relented. Then he leaned in and kissed her deeply and the coffee stood forgotten on the night stand as they made love in the early morning on that late autumn day.
Thinking back on that innocent scene, Arthur found it even harder to reconcile that with what he'd just been told. She had always been so sweet when they met, so fun, so... innocent. Was it an act? Was the automaton the real her or a mask she put on for work? He'd read about SpecOps soldiers who had lashed out on instinct, muscle memory taking over in normal situations because the soldiers were triggered. No such incident had ever occurred with Nicole. Did she trust him so completely that she let her guard down, or...
Arthur smacked his head in frustration. He had done all that needed to be done at the office. He needed to go home and pack for the assignment.
Back home, and all boring matters like rent and services had been taken care of. He had packed a bag, mostly with undies, t-shirts, and socks. He had hung up his ballistic vest and was patching it up with needle, thread, and duct tape, listening to some light classical music.
Was it true love when you heard the voice of the one you loved or thought you love out of the blue? Only, he could have sworn he heard her voice just then. Shaking his head, annoyed with himself, he started up the patching of the vest again. And there it was again. Her voice. His head had tuned out the knocking, since the door was so thin he could hear when people knocked on his neighbours' doors.
He stopped the music, and the following silence was so complete that his ears were ringing. He heard her lean against his door and slide down on the floor, still talking. Her words broke his heart and hollowed out the righteous anger that had sustained him, and he suddenly felt nothing but exhaustion. Nicole... He fought back the tears, wiping irritably at his eyes as treacherous tears welled up.
Arthur stood by the door, two fingers gently pressed against it, indecision tormenting him when common sense made up his mind for him. He heard old Mrs. Washington's door open. Mrs. Washington was a southern black widow whose successful lawyer son had put her in Arthur's apartment complex. She was a sweet and opinionated busybody who had teased Arthur and Nicole about lack of sleep due to the "ungodly noises" they'd made after another session of loud lovemaking.
"Miss Nicole? Whatchu doin' out here. Why isn't Mr. Arthur openin' his door? Are you having a lover's spat? I swear, you young'uns waste your time on this drama!" It's worth mentioning at this point that sweet old Mrs. Washington was hard of hearing and spoke LOUDLY! Arthur heard shuffling of slippered feet and an impatient "move over girl, I'll set that silly man straight!" And then folliwed a barrage of loud thumps from the tiny white haired black woman as she yelled, "MISTER ARTHUR BERG, YOU OPEN YOUR DOOR THIS INSTANT AND LET MISS NICOLE IN! GWAN ARTHUR, I KNOW YOU IN THERE AND I KNOW YOU LISTENIN'!"
Arthur opened the door and nodded at Mrs. Washington. "Good evening, Corinthia. Nicole, you'd better come in before Mrs. Washington here spanks us both." He let Nicole inside the apartment and closed the door. He held a hand up to quiet Nicole as he listened at his door for half a minute before loudly proclaiming: "Mrs. Washington, I am not discussing anything with Nicole until you go back inside of your apartment." He was rewarded with an impatient and offended huff, followed by the shuffle of slippers and a door shutting, loudly.
"Alone at last, again" he muttered. He had his emotions reasonably under control and could stand to look at a very civilian clad and looking Nicole. "Oh God, where to begin," he sighed. "I understand and can actually forgive the need for OpSec (operational security). Although I hate being so blatantly lied to it's something I might forgive, given the circumstances. I just wish you'd told me sooner."
That was the easy part. "But who the Hell even ARE you, Nicole? Is that even your real name!? I mean, we spend our free time together, and you're the sweetest, funniest, smartest, cutest woman," his voice started breaking, "I've ever been with! Ever! And suddenly you yank the rug out from under me, telling me you're a mercenary. Up until you opened your mouth in the office today I thought it was a sick joke or a lie you made up to make yourself seem more interesting. But no, apparently you're the real deal! Worse, I learned this afternoon that you've killed at least three chechen assassins and that your team had the highest success rate in hunting them down!"
Tears were streaming down his face now, and he impatiently wiped them away. "I've accepted what you are, but I can't reconcile what I've heard about you with how I know you! Which part of you is an act? How can you switch personas like that? Who can... how can... what? Who are you," he finished with a weak voice.
The steam had run out of him. He exhaled loudly and slumped down on his couch, covering his eyes. He half expected her to leave, to shut him out. At this point he was beyond caring. PTSD was almost rearing its ugly head, and a panic attack was poking at him as he sat there waiting for her response.
Niceandbrutal
Yes, but-
- Joined
- Aug 27, 2013
- Posts
- 2,816
A soft pleasantly familiar touch. Soft words. Soft apologetic kisses. A desperate ache in his heart. He so wanted to believe her. He felt like his heart was breaking. A part of him wanted to embrace her, kiss her, make love to her. But his mind was reeling with two revelations: He had misjudged her. And she was indeed a killer. Guilt and fear tore through him as he realised he wanted her and didn't want her at the same time.
Her question about what his reaction would be if she'd been honest with him from the start gave him pause. "I'd like to say that it wouldn't have made a difference, but I am honestly not sure how I would have reacted. At first I thought you were lying, and I was consumed with righteous anger," he said with a wobbly laugh. "Then I found out you weren't lying and it scared me. First and foremost it frightened me to know you had such a potential for violence in you. But also the fact that you in the beginning lied so convincingly that I at first thought the truth was a lie." Without meaning to, out of sheer habit, his hand slipped into her hair. He stroked her hair and massaged her scalp, the familiar sensation of his caressing her calming him down.
When she admitted she was scared, he replied "Is it strange that I find it comforting that you were scared? Not because I feel it gives me any power, but because our relationship means so much to you. And I wanted to call you too. But I was hurt and angry and confused. I kept telling myself that you owed it to me to pick up the phone and call me first. And that was true enough. But a part of me was also afraid of irrevocably ruining what we had." He didn't mention her point about finding someone else. That was, to him, an absurd notion not worthy of addressing.
When she started talking about her job and killing he felt like shit. He held up a hand. "I believe you when you say you don't enjoy killing. You're not crazy. Please, you don't have to justify that. It's just... a shock."
"And no, I don't want you off this detail. First of all, I would like to see you at your job. And I'd like to make up my mind for myself about which Nicole is the real Nicole. And besides," he finished, "you and your team come highly recommended. I'd like to see for myself why that is." The last he said with the hint of a teasing smile on his face.
"But let's be clear. I am still reeling from all this, and I need my head on straight. I may take some time to make up my mind about what is what, and I ultimately want the two of us to work. But I need time. Until I make up my mind, can we at least be friends?" And then he realised he was massaging her scalp and stroking her hair like he'd used to when they'd been together.
"Sorry, I didn't mean to..." To make things less confusing, he fixed her hair to look less tousled before gently removing his hands.
He slowly stood up. "I actually need to continue patching up my vest and helmet, and I'm sure you have preparations of your own to attend to." He led the way to his front door and held it open for her. As she started leaving, he grabbed her arm. "Nicole, look, listen, I am not saying everything is OK between us, but I want you to know it meant a lot, you coming here tonight. Thank you." And he grasped both her shoulders and gave her forehead a long lingering kiss.
As he closed the door behind her he was seized by a painful doubt, and he had an impulse to run after her and beg her to come back. But he thought better of it. What was needed now was a calm head and a careful approach. He'd seen too many relationships break after impulsive acts.
And so, the rest of the evening passed with him patching his well-worn armour and going through his checklists that he by now knew by heart. All the time, his thoughts were half on the mission, half on Nicole. He couldn't think about one without thinking about the other. Sleep came late that night.
The next day he slept in and had a late brunch at a local diner, before shutting off gas and electricity and locking up his apartment. The normal pre-mission knot in his stomach was present and correct, and after some restless pacing about he decided to go to the airfield. Being near the company plane made him feel more on mission, and his pre-mission jitters abated.
As luck would have it, he was allowed on board the plane while the crew ran tests and checks. He managed to fall asleep in the comfortable recliners installed in the aircraft, and he only woke up when the rest of the group boarded the plane. And there she was again. Nicole. His heart made a leap, but she seemed to be GI Jane with better hair again, so Arthur did not interfere or call to her while she and her crew secured big metal crates that looked very heavy.
Lindsay and William stowed their gear, and Arthur busied himself by running a checklist with them. The plane was soon ready for liftoff, and Arthur sat down on the only available seat. Next to Nicole. "Once more into the breach..." he muttered as the plane gained momentum and lifted off the runway.
His pre-mission jitters were back, but he tried putting up a brave face. He wasn't aware that his hands were shaking. His thoughts zoomed around in his head, reminding him of previous close calls and horrors he'd witnessed, and the presence of Nicole next to him both soothed and agitated him. What if she got injured protecting him? A wave of nausea hit him as the notion ambled through his head.
As they leveled out some 30.000+ feet up in the air, he tried to stretch out and get some sleep. The presence of Nicole made it harder than usual.
Her question about what his reaction would be if she'd been honest with him from the start gave him pause. "I'd like to say that it wouldn't have made a difference, but I am honestly not sure how I would have reacted. At first I thought you were lying, and I was consumed with righteous anger," he said with a wobbly laugh. "Then I found out you weren't lying and it scared me. First and foremost it frightened me to know you had such a potential for violence in you. But also the fact that you in the beginning lied so convincingly that I at first thought the truth was a lie." Without meaning to, out of sheer habit, his hand slipped into her hair. He stroked her hair and massaged her scalp, the familiar sensation of his caressing her calming him down.
When she admitted she was scared, he replied "Is it strange that I find it comforting that you were scared? Not because I feel it gives me any power, but because our relationship means so much to you. And I wanted to call you too. But I was hurt and angry and confused. I kept telling myself that you owed it to me to pick up the phone and call me first. And that was true enough. But a part of me was also afraid of irrevocably ruining what we had." He didn't mention her point about finding someone else. That was, to him, an absurd notion not worthy of addressing.
When she started talking about her job and killing he felt like shit. He held up a hand. "I believe you when you say you don't enjoy killing. You're not crazy. Please, you don't have to justify that. It's just... a shock."
"And no, I don't want you off this detail. First of all, I would like to see you at your job. And I'd like to make up my mind for myself about which Nicole is the real Nicole. And besides," he finished, "you and your team come highly recommended. I'd like to see for myself why that is." The last he said with the hint of a teasing smile on his face.
"But let's be clear. I am still reeling from all this, and I need my head on straight. I may take some time to make up my mind about what is what, and I ultimately want the two of us to work. But I need time. Until I make up my mind, can we at least be friends?" And then he realised he was massaging her scalp and stroking her hair like he'd used to when they'd been together.
"Sorry, I didn't mean to..." To make things less confusing, he fixed her hair to look less tousled before gently removing his hands.
He slowly stood up. "I actually need to continue patching up my vest and helmet, and I'm sure you have preparations of your own to attend to." He led the way to his front door and held it open for her. As she started leaving, he grabbed her arm. "Nicole, look, listen, I am not saying everything is OK between us, but I want you to know it meant a lot, you coming here tonight. Thank you." And he grasped both her shoulders and gave her forehead a long lingering kiss.
As he closed the door behind her he was seized by a painful doubt, and he had an impulse to run after her and beg her to come back. But he thought better of it. What was needed now was a calm head and a careful approach. He'd seen too many relationships break after impulsive acts.
And so, the rest of the evening passed with him patching his well-worn armour and going through his checklists that he by now knew by heart. All the time, his thoughts were half on the mission, half on Nicole. He couldn't think about one without thinking about the other. Sleep came late that night.
The next day he slept in and had a late brunch at a local diner, before shutting off gas and electricity and locking up his apartment. The normal pre-mission knot in his stomach was present and correct, and after some restless pacing about he decided to go to the airfield. Being near the company plane made him feel more on mission, and his pre-mission jitters abated.
As luck would have it, he was allowed on board the plane while the crew ran tests and checks. He managed to fall asleep in the comfortable recliners installed in the aircraft, and he only woke up when the rest of the group boarded the plane. And there she was again. Nicole. His heart made a leap, but she seemed to be GI Jane with better hair again, so Arthur did not interfere or call to her while she and her crew secured big metal crates that looked very heavy.
Lindsay and William stowed their gear, and Arthur busied himself by running a checklist with them. The plane was soon ready for liftoff, and Arthur sat down on the only available seat. Next to Nicole. "Once more into the breach..." he muttered as the plane gained momentum and lifted off the runway.
His pre-mission jitters were back, but he tried putting up a brave face. He wasn't aware that his hands were shaking. His thoughts zoomed around in his head, reminding him of previous close calls and horrors he'd witnessed, and the presence of Nicole next to him both soothed and agitated him. What if she got injured protecting him? A wave of nausea hit him as the notion ambled through his head.
As they leveled out some 30.000+ feet up in the air, he tried to stretch out and get some sleep. The presence of Nicole made it harder than usual.
Niceandbrutal
Yes, but-
- Joined
- Aug 27, 2013
- Posts
- 2,816
The stopover for lunch in the UK had been interesting, to say the least. He knew of Nicole's reputation, but it wasn't until the british liaison showed up that he really understood how well thought of Nicole and her team was. The british officer that guided them around RAF Lakenheath had, as it turned out, volunteered to meet them. He gave a polite perfunctory handshake to Arthur and his team, and only thawed up when he spoke with Nicole. Impressingly, he was wearing the sand coloured beret adorned with the winged dagger exclusive to the SAS. And he spoke to her as an equal.
They boarded the plane of Nicole's company, and Arthur was happy to see it was not a lumbering military cargo plane. He'd spent his fair share of time inside the bellies of C-130 Herculeses and other big noise buckets, so a discrete executive jet with sensors and countermeasures was a welcome change of pace as far as military transports went.
They were supposed to land at a Romanian military airfield close to the Ukrainian border, but Nicole broke the bad news: they would have to divert to Bucuresti, the capital. Frustrating though it was, it was part of what they'd all signed up for. Lindsay asked the inevitable question and Nicole gave the expected answer, 50 shades of "don't know".
Arthur reacted stoically to the news, but his insides were squirming. This might mean a delay of days. He'd waited to enter war zones before, and the waiting messed with his head. Expectations, what ifs, fears, old traumas, they all played merry hell with him. And at the same time, it meant possibly unexpected down time with Nicole. That is, if she was allowed to fraternise with her charges.
And his journalistic instincts had been piqued. Why diverted to Bucuresti? Diplomatic wrangles with the Russians? Was the airfield at capacity? Was there an issue with the ukrainian vehicles they'd been promised? Had the airfield been attacked by Spetznas as a target because of the shipping of equipment through it? And on and on his mind was grinding.
All these thoughts manifested themselves quickly and with an (un)healthy dose of anxiety. Arthur returned the quick look Nicole gave him, trying to grin and put up a brave face. The plane landed without fanfare, and military liaisons and customs and representatives of Nicole's firm all showed up, marking territory. The military liaison was grumpy and demanded justification for the weaponry present, the customs officer was equally wary of the weapons and the expensive equipment of Arthur's team, and the rep from Nicole's company was doing their best to smooth things over. In the end, a couple of bottles each from the plane's bar sent the unpleasant officials on their way with big grins, and they were free to leave the plane.
Arthur called his station and explained the situation. The station told Arthur to sit tight while they investigated on their end, but Arthur wouldn't hear of it. "You'll spend two hours dicking around before you reach the same conclusion we do. We're tired and we need some down time. We'll stay the night in a hotel. Don't argue with me!" Arthur snapped the last sentence as the lead ass on the other end started objecting. His nerves were already starting to fray. He just wanted the queasy feeling he got from waiting to be gone. He'd be alright once they were in the thick of it. It was just the damn waiting...
Nicole's company rep hustled up some cars, and they were whisked off to a decent hotel in downtown Bucuresti. Arthur made a point of not sitting in the same car as Nicole, because his nerves were on end and he needed to focus to get himself under control. They rode in silence, Lindsay, William, Oscar, and Arthur. The check-in at the hotel went about as smoothly as could be expected, and Arthur was soon handing out keycards to everyone. He made a point of giving the better rooms to Nicole and her team and he took the smallest room for himself. He didn't care. He just needed to get away from everyone and decompress.
In his room, and Arthur sank down on the bed in a state of bewildered confusion and anxiety. He'd had pre-assignment jitters before, but never as strong as this. He felt sure he'd feel better once he'd gotten some sleep. But sleep never came. He tossed and turned, images of previous wars he'd covered flashing before his eyes, images of his good times with Nicole before the truth came out, now intermingling. She was a part of the ugliness of war, yet she somehow managed to not let it get to her like it was getting to him.
The images started swirling in his head until he finally managed to doze off into fitful sleep. His nightmares were waiting for him.
In technicolour and surround sound and smell-o-vision, he was back in the syrian town liberated from ISIS. The sickening almost metallic stench of death hung over the town. There were fresh horrors around every corner. Hangings, burnings, shootings, stonings, people dropped from tall buildings just because. And the mass graves. Flies, maggots, and dogs feasting on remains of humans. Arthur approached a grave, thinking he knew what he'd see. But it was worse. Much worse. Nicole's face, covered in flies, her dried eyes sunken into her face, and-
Sweet merciful Jesus! Arthur was shocked awake. He retched, then threw up, barely making it to the toilet in time.
Nicole. Dead. No. Dream. Bad dream. He stood up, feeling decisive. He dressed in pants, shirt, and shoes. He got out, and went to Nicole's room, the number of which he'd memorised when he'd handed out the key cards. Approaching it, and he felt his resolve waver. He stopped. He was being ridiculous. Of course she was OK. It was only a dream, but-
The image from his dream of Nicole reared its ugly head and he knocked on her door before he could change his mind. He knocked several times, his panic rising, until he heard soft footfalls on the other side of the door.
"Nicole, it's me. Arthur," he began. "I, ah- I just wanted to- to see if you..." He felt stupid. He wanted to tell her he'd been freaked out by a bad dream. He wanted to tell her he'd come to check on her, see that she was alright, alive, whole. But it all sounded just stupid in his head now. Trying to control the quavering in his voice, failing, he pressed on: "Yeah, no, I'm sorry to have disturbed you. It can wait. Sorry." He turned and walked away, feeling absolutely ridiculous.
They boarded the plane of Nicole's company, and Arthur was happy to see it was not a lumbering military cargo plane. He'd spent his fair share of time inside the bellies of C-130 Herculeses and other big noise buckets, so a discrete executive jet with sensors and countermeasures was a welcome change of pace as far as military transports went.
They were supposed to land at a Romanian military airfield close to the Ukrainian border, but Nicole broke the bad news: they would have to divert to Bucuresti, the capital. Frustrating though it was, it was part of what they'd all signed up for. Lindsay asked the inevitable question and Nicole gave the expected answer, 50 shades of "don't know".
Arthur reacted stoically to the news, but his insides were squirming. This might mean a delay of days. He'd waited to enter war zones before, and the waiting messed with his head. Expectations, what ifs, fears, old traumas, they all played merry hell with him. And at the same time, it meant possibly unexpected down time with Nicole. That is, if she was allowed to fraternise with her charges.
And his journalistic instincts had been piqued. Why diverted to Bucuresti? Diplomatic wrangles with the Russians? Was the airfield at capacity? Was there an issue with the ukrainian vehicles they'd been promised? Had the airfield been attacked by Spetznas as a target because of the shipping of equipment through it? And on and on his mind was grinding.
All these thoughts manifested themselves quickly and with an (un)healthy dose of anxiety. Arthur returned the quick look Nicole gave him, trying to grin and put up a brave face. The plane landed without fanfare, and military liaisons and customs and representatives of Nicole's firm all showed up, marking territory. The military liaison was grumpy and demanded justification for the weaponry present, the customs officer was equally wary of the weapons and the expensive equipment of Arthur's team, and the rep from Nicole's company was doing their best to smooth things over. In the end, a couple of bottles each from the plane's bar sent the unpleasant officials on their way with big grins, and they were free to leave the plane.
Arthur called his station and explained the situation. The station told Arthur to sit tight while they investigated on their end, but Arthur wouldn't hear of it. "You'll spend two hours dicking around before you reach the same conclusion we do. We're tired and we need some down time. We'll stay the night in a hotel. Don't argue with me!" Arthur snapped the last sentence as the lead ass on the other end started objecting. His nerves were already starting to fray. He just wanted the queasy feeling he got from waiting to be gone. He'd be alright once they were in the thick of it. It was just the damn waiting...
Nicole's company rep hustled up some cars, and they were whisked off to a decent hotel in downtown Bucuresti. Arthur made a point of not sitting in the same car as Nicole, because his nerves were on end and he needed to focus to get himself under control. They rode in silence, Lindsay, William, Oscar, and Arthur. The check-in at the hotel went about as smoothly as could be expected, and Arthur was soon handing out keycards to everyone. He made a point of giving the better rooms to Nicole and her team and he took the smallest room for himself. He didn't care. He just needed to get away from everyone and decompress.
In his room, and Arthur sank down on the bed in a state of bewildered confusion and anxiety. He'd had pre-assignment jitters before, but never as strong as this. He felt sure he'd feel better once he'd gotten some sleep. But sleep never came. He tossed and turned, images of previous wars he'd covered flashing before his eyes, images of his good times with Nicole before the truth came out, now intermingling. She was a part of the ugliness of war, yet she somehow managed to not let it get to her like it was getting to him.
The images started swirling in his head until he finally managed to doze off into fitful sleep. His nightmares were waiting for him.
In technicolour and surround sound and smell-o-vision, he was back in the syrian town liberated from ISIS. The sickening almost metallic stench of death hung over the town. There were fresh horrors around every corner. Hangings, burnings, shootings, stonings, people dropped from tall buildings just because. And the mass graves. Flies, maggots, and dogs feasting on remains of humans. Arthur approached a grave, thinking he knew what he'd see. But it was worse. Much worse. Nicole's face, covered in flies, her dried eyes sunken into her face, and-
Sweet merciful Jesus! Arthur was shocked awake. He retched, then threw up, barely making it to the toilet in time.
Nicole. Dead. No. Dream. Bad dream. He stood up, feeling decisive. He dressed in pants, shirt, and shoes. He got out, and went to Nicole's room, the number of which he'd memorised when he'd handed out the key cards. Approaching it, and he felt his resolve waver. He stopped. He was being ridiculous. Of course she was OK. It was only a dream, but-
The image from his dream of Nicole reared its ugly head and he knocked on her door before he could change his mind. He knocked several times, his panic rising, until he heard soft footfalls on the other side of the door.
"Nicole, it's me. Arthur," he began. "I, ah- I just wanted to- to see if you..." He felt stupid. He wanted to tell her he'd been freaked out by a bad dream. He wanted to tell her he'd come to check on her, see that she was alright, alive, whole. But it all sounded just stupid in his head now. Trying to control the quavering in his voice, failing, he pressed on: "Yeah, no, I'm sorry to have disturbed you. It can wait. Sorry." He turned and walked away, feeling absolutely ridiculous.
Niceandbrutal
Yes, but-
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- Aug 27, 2013
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"What? No. Yes. Water, yes please." Arthur was a bit flummoxed by finding himself so suddenly in her room, on her bed. She smelled clean and her hair was dripping wet. "Sorry. I didn't mean to disturb you. You were having a bath." He still made no sign as if to leave.
Truth be known, he found her taking a bath so very comforting. It was a bit of the Nicole he'd gotten to know before she sprang the truth on him. He smiled wistfully and looked up at her ,so very much safe and whole and alive. She had rushed out of the bathtub, he noticed with a mounting sense of physical longing. The t-shirt clung to her body, thanks to the water she had not towelled off, aided by her still dripping wet hair.
"How does she do it," he though to himself as she came back with bottled water from the fridge. She handed it to him. Their fingers touched. How could a professional soldier's fingers and hands be so soft? Arthur took a swig from the bottle and offered her some. He drew a deep ragged breath and spoke. "I feel kind of stupid now, and I am sorry to disturb you, but I-"
He hesitated. He had been less than forthcoming about the inner turmoil he was going through. Another deep breath, and then he continued. "You know I have nightmares. I never shared the contents of those nightmares with you, thinking they would shock and scare you." A dry chuckle."That'll teach me to judge a book by the cover, right?"
"I had a nightmare just now," he continued. And he went on to tell her about the Syrian town that had been liberated. How it appeared to be the abandoned playground of demons, with numerous forms of torture and death visited on the local populace. He told her about the mass graves. His voice started quavering, and without thinking, he grabbed her hand. "...in my dream I saw you in the grave, looking like..."
He could not continue. He drew his breath, one-two-three times. He couldn't explain the full impact of that image of her." You were there, dead," he finished weakly, clasping on to her cold hand now. A minute passed. Arthur took another swig of water. "And so, I woke up. It felt so real. I had to see you. I needed to know that you were safe and whole. Of course, by the time I knocked on your door I started realising how stupid it was of me to react that way. But..." a shrug. He certainly wasn't going to apologise for caring about her!
He had both her hands in his now and he was staring intently into her eyes. "It frightens me that this is your bread and butter, Nicole. I felt, no feel, that I am living on the edge, going into war zones as a reporter. People have told me I'm brave for reporting from the front lines. Maybe I am. But what you're doing is next level, it's beyond brave, beyond dangerous." He paused. What was it he was trying to tell her?
"See, at first I thought you were lying, as you know. Then I was scared and hurt because of how thoroughly you tricked me. But I understand the need for discretion. And that still nags me." He needed to say this just right. "I know you are good at what you do. Apart from some callouses on your hands," he squeezed her hands affectionately, "I've seen NO marks on you to indicate you've been wounded. More remarkable, what you do for a living doesn't seem to affect you mentally. Whenever I watched you sleep, you slept like a baby. How do you do it? How do you function so well, given what you must have been through and seen?"
He closed his eyes and remembered the way she looked when sleeping. Seemingly carefree, hair tousled as soon as it hit the pillows, and the hint of a smile on her lips. He had inched closer to her while they spoke, their knees now touching. He was achingly aware that the wet t-shirt revealed more than it covered. He could see her nipples, hard enough to cut glass, poking at the thin fabric. He also realised the t-shirt was the only garment on her body.
And just like that, it didn't matter to him that she was a military contractor or ex-Special Forces. It didn't matter to him that she could probably take his life with her bare hands without breaking a sweat. It was Nicole. The woman he loved. A wave of longing and lust washed over him, and he pulled her into his arms and kissed her deeply, with increasing desire.
Truth be known, he found her taking a bath so very comforting. It was a bit of the Nicole he'd gotten to know before she sprang the truth on him. He smiled wistfully and looked up at her ,so very much safe and whole and alive. She had rushed out of the bathtub, he noticed with a mounting sense of physical longing. The t-shirt clung to her body, thanks to the water she had not towelled off, aided by her still dripping wet hair.
"How does she do it," he though to himself as she came back with bottled water from the fridge. She handed it to him. Their fingers touched. How could a professional soldier's fingers and hands be so soft? Arthur took a swig from the bottle and offered her some. He drew a deep ragged breath and spoke. "I feel kind of stupid now, and I am sorry to disturb you, but I-"
He hesitated. He had been less than forthcoming about the inner turmoil he was going through. Another deep breath, and then he continued. "You know I have nightmares. I never shared the contents of those nightmares with you, thinking they would shock and scare you." A dry chuckle."That'll teach me to judge a book by the cover, right?"
"I had a nightmare just now," he continued. And he went on to tell her about the Syrian town that had been liberated. How it appeared to be the abandoned playground of demons, with numerous forms of torture and death visited on the local populace. He told her about the mass graves. His voice started quavering, and without thinking, he grabbed her hand. "...in my dream I saw you in the grave, looking like..."
He could not continue. He drew his breath, one-two-three times. He couldn't explain the full impact of that image of her." You were there, dead," he finished weakly, clasping on to her cold hand now. A minute passed. Arthur took another swig of water. "And so, I woke up. It felt so real. I had to see you. I needed to know that you were safe and whole. Of course, by the time I knocked on your door I started realising how stupid it was of me to react that way. But..." a shrug. He certainly wasn't going to apologise for caring about her!
He had both her hands in his now and he was staring intently into her eyes. "It frightens me that this is your bread and butter, Nicole. I felt, no feel, that I am living on the edge, going into war zones as a reporter. People have told me I'm brave for reporting from the front lines. Maybe I am. But what you're doing is next level, it's beyond brave, beyond dangerous." He paused. What was it he was trying to tell her?
"See, at first I thought you were lying, as you know. Then I was scared and hurt because of how thoroughly you tricked me. But I understand the need for discretion. And that still nags me." He needed to say this just right. "I know you are good at what you do. Apart from some callouses on your hands," he squeezed her hands affectionately, "I've seen NO marks on you to indicate you've been wounded. More remarkable, what you do for a living doesn't seem to affect you mentally. Whenever I watched you sleep, you slept like a baby. How do you do it? How do you function so well, given what you must have been through and seen?"
He closed his eyes and remembered the way she looked when sleeping. Seemingly carefree, hair tousled as soon as it hit the pillows, and the hint of a smile on her lips. He had inched closer to her while they spoke, their knees now touching. He was achingly aware that the wet t-shirt revealed more than it covered. He could see her nipples, hard enough to cut glass, poking at the thin fabric. He also realised the t-shirt was the only garment on her body.
And just like that, it didn't matter to him that she was a military contractor or ex-Special Forces. It didn't matter to him that she could probably take his life with her bare hands without breaking a sweat. It was Nicole. The woman he loved. A wave of longing and lust washed over him, and he pulled her into his arms and kissed her deeply, with increasing desire.
Niceandbrutal
Yes, but-
- Joined
- Aug 27, 2013
- Posts
- 2,816
She was right, of course. Much as Arthur hated it, much as he physically longed to be with her, she was right. The initial disappointment he felt was alleviated when he realised that she'd wanted to go all the way as much as he did. He knew her well enough to recognise the signs. But she had kept her wits about her, whereas Arthur was mentally and emotionally frail after waking up after such a realistic and harrowing nightmare.
Walking out of her room and back to his room, and a door audibly snapped shut as he walked past it. Arthur stopped and turned, looked, saw it was Dallas's door. He was probably making sure his team was OK. Nothing wrong with that. Arthur shrugged and walked almost zombielike back to his small excuse of a room.
Sitting on his bed, sorting through his emotions, and Arthur felt like he needed to reach out and reassure Nicole. He grabbed his phone and thought long and hard before he started writing:
"Hey Nicky. Thank you for listening tonight. It meant the world to me. And thank you for stopping us when I started kissing you. I miss you, but you already know that. We have some serious talking to do when this is over, but I want you in my life. I want us to work. I've grown more than fond of you and the past two weeks... I feel like a fool for pushing you away like I did."
He paused. "Grown more than fond of you!?" The truth was, she was always on his mind. She had been since that wonderful November day they'd met. But he wasn't sure if she was ready to hear "I love you" from him, especially not in their current situation. But he was in love with her. It was not a huge revelation to him, but it felt nice to have formed the words fully in his head.
"I love Nicole." He said it out loud to himself and smiled. He had convinced himself that what they had was an extended fling, but a part of him knew better. And he saw no reason to deny it. He sent the message as written and calmed his mind with a drink before falling asleep again. There were no more dreams that night.
The morning after, and Arthur was all business despite little sleep and a slight headache. He sat with his crew and discussed options for making stories from Romania if the wait would be long. The stories out of Ukraine were of such a nature that the delay started making sense. The russians had blown up a dam, flooding the area where they were supoosed to pass through. And there was a costly ukrainian offensive going on where the russians actually put up a fight.
Even so, they'd been assured access by the ukrainians, and Arthur was raring to go despite his nerves. They were debating interim solutions still when Nicole and her team entered the dining hall. Dallas glanced in Arthur's direction several times and stayed close to Nicole. Odd. Protective of his commander, or something else?
Despite borderline glares from Dallas, Arthur got up and walked to Nicole and her team. "Hi. You're probably better informed than us, but the ukrainian military press liaison office claims they're doing everything they can to get us in country. Have you any more news that you can share with us?"
His tone was casual and way less uptight than he'd initially been with them. He took it in turn to acknowledge each member of Nicole's team and generally to be as disarming as possible. He knew there'd been some tension and he knew he'd been the cause of most of it, and now he was trying to make amends.
"If we're stuck here for another day, I'd like to take us all out to dinner. I feel we should be familiar and friendly now that we're working together." A slight scoffing noise from Dallas did not deter Arthur. He wanted the awkwardness and the "us and them" mindset of the two crews gone.
He pulled up a chair and looked at Nicole's crew. "May I sit down with you guys?"
Walking out of her room and back to his room, and a door audibly snapped shut as he walked past it. Arthur stopped and turned, looked, saw it was Dallas's door. He was probably making sure his team was OK. Nothing wrong with that. Arthur shrugged and walked almost zombielike back to his small excuse of a room.
Sitting on his bed, sorting through his emotions, and Arthur felt like he needed to reach out and reassure Nicole. He grabbed his phone and thought long and hard before he started writing:
"Hey Nicky. Thank you for listening tonight. It meant the world to me. And thank you for stopping us when I started kissing you. I miss you, but you already know that. We have some serious talking to do when this is over, but I want you in my life. I want us to work. I've grown more than fond of you and the past two weeks... I feel like a fool for pushing you away like I did."
He paused. "Grown more than fond of you!?" The truth was, she was always on his mind. She had been since that wonderful November day they'd met. But he wasn't sure if she was ready to hear "I love you" from him, especially not in their current situation. But he was in love with her. It was not a huge revelation to him, but it felt nice to have formed the words fully in his head.
"I love Nicole." He said it out loud to himself and smiled. He had convinced himself that what they had was an extended fling, but a part of him knew better. And he saw no reason to deny it. He sent the message as written and calmed his mind with a drink before falling asleep again. There were no more dreams that night.
The morning after, and Arthur was all business despite little sleep and a slight headache. He sat with his crew and discussed options for making stories from Romania if the wait would be long. The stories out of Ukraine were of such a nature that the delay started making sense. The russians had blown up a dam, flooding the area where they were supoosed to pass through. And there was a costly ukrainian offensive going on where the russians actually put up a fight.
Even so, they'd been assured access by the ukrainians, and Arthur was raring to go despite his nerves. They were debating interim solutions still when Nicole and her team entered the dining hall. Dallas glanced in Arthur's direction several times and stayed close to Nicole. Odd. Protective of his commander, or something else?
Despite borderline glares from Dallas, Arthur got up and walked to Nicole and her team. "Hi. You're probably better informed than us, but the ukrainian military press liaison office claims they're doing everything they can to get us in country. Have you any more news that you can share with us?"
His tone was casual and way less uptight than he'd initially been with them. He took it in turn to acknowledge each member of Nicole's team and generally to be as disarming as possible. He knew there'd been some tension and he knew he'd been the cause of most of it, and now he was trying to make amends.
"If we're stuck here for another day, I'd like to take us all out to dinner. I feel we should be familiar and friendly now that we're working together." A slight scoffing noise from Dallas did not deter Arthur. He wanted the awkwardness and the "us and them" mindset of the two crews gone.
He pulled up a chair and looked at Nicole's crew. "May I sit down with you guys?"
