Hostage Rescue (Closed forAngeleyez and NiceandBrutal)

"Sorry, I, um, I'm not much of a flyer."

And she was a terrible liar too. She attempted a smile that didn't reach her eyes, that was in fact more of a hollow grin. Oh Ronnie, sweetheart! Don't do this to yourself, he thought as he watched her.

And suddenly time seemed to speed up. There was so much he wanted to say to her, to ask her, but they were nearing the end of their journey together. A great sadness filled scott. She hadn't responded at all to his questions regarding him moving to Virginia. She wanted to forget him, wanted to put the whole ordeal behind her.

Slowly untangling his hand from hers, he said with forced bonhomie: "Back to the daily grind I suppose. It's- it's been nice to, um, to get to know you, Veronica." His voice had taken on a superficial tone, a defense mechanism as his heart broke into a thousand pieces. He had felt so certain she would give some positive reply, that she wanted to see him as much as he wanted to see her. Oh well, it was back to square one in the game called "Scott's failed romantic entanglements."

As the plane came to a halt, Scott quickly rose to his feet. Turning around again, he tried one last time: "If you ever change your mind, please don't hesitate to contact me." He didn't think to give her his address or phone number as he was certain she wasn't interested in seeing him again. He just needed to feel he had tried all he could.

Oh well, in a few years time this will be a curious bittersweet memory, he mused as someone spoke his name in that unmistakeable clipped way perfected by staff officers. REMF's. Or as the Marines called them, POG's. "If you would follow me, Ensign Scott." Scott turned around and looked at a pale Navy officer. With a sigh and a last look at Veronica, he said: "Well... goodbye Ronnie. It was nice to meet you."

And then he turned around and marched off in the wake of the REMF officer with a heavy heart.
 
Back to the daily grind I suppose. It's- it's been nice to, um, to get to know you, Veronica.

Veronica looked at Scott with no small degree of puzzlement and equal parts hurt when he pulled his hand from hers, wondering why it felt like she was sitting next to a stranger now. There was something off in his tone, but she couldn't figure out what specifically bothered her. Wait... did he call me Veronica?

His words had been congenial enough, although almost stilted, and the expression on his face was... cold. Here was the face of a soldier - controlled, respectful, but cold. That's when it hit her. Now that she was safely in the U.S. he evidently couldn't wait to get out of his babysitting duties. All this time she had thought they had an odd sort of connection, but apparently it was only in her head. Her fingernails bit into her palms as she tried to keep her expression serene, not wanting to make his "duty" anymore trying than it had already been.

The plane had barely come to a stop before Scott was jumping out of his seat and looked like he was going to run people over on his way out. She stayed seated, not wanting to look like she would chase after him, even though she was apprehensive about going through the gauntlet of reporters, more of whom were starting to look their way.

If you ever change your mind, please don't hesitate to contact me.

Veronica went to open her mouth when she heard someone speaking to Scott. Change my mind about what?! She wracked her brain trying to figure out what he was talking about and kept coming up empty. Well... goodbye Ronnie. It was nice to meet you. Standing up, she waited for him to turn around one more time so that she could ask him to clarify, or at least let her give him a hug goodbye, but he simply kept walking.

Moving almost woodenly in the same direction, unsure where she was supposed to go or what she was supposed to do, Veronica clicked through everything Scott had said, wondering what she had missed and what was bugging her about the exchange. 'Besides the fact that he was practically running away from you?' a little voice in the back of her mind sneered.

A firm grip on her shoulder startled her and she let out a startled gasp as she swung around defensively. "Whoa there, Ms Price, easy now... I'm Hayward Barnaby," came the gravely voice of a lifelong chain smoker, "I want to be the one who tells your story, love... Whaddya say?"

Veronica backed away from the man as she shook her head and tried to say as politely as possible, "No, thank you.. not interested." Ignoring Mr Barnaby, she craned her neck looking for Scott and could barely make him out through the crowd.

"Let me give you my card... for when you change your mind..."

Veronica gasped as she realized what had been bothering her earlier. Oh no! She didn't have Scott's phone number... email address... Nothing! Raising up on tiptoes, she looked again for Scott and realized he had been delayed at the very entrance of the plane waiting on the people before him to disembark.

"Scott.... Scott...," she called out urgently, uncaring what the people around her thought in her bid to get his attention. Unfortunately, she wasn't even sure he ever heard her as the rest of the remaining reporters crowded around her, peppering her with questions and effectively blocking her view.
 
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"Come on, come on, COME ON!

Some moronic MP had taken it upon himself to check passenger names off a list on a clipboard he carried. And he clearly wasn't one of America's best and brightest. He actually stuck his tongue out as he in deep concentration looked for the names corresponding to the passengers. The REMF was impatiently tapping his foot, mirroring Scott's impatience. He needed to be away from tha plane, he needed to be away from HER!

It hurt him more than he wanted to admit that she'd used him as nothing more than her safety blanket. And now that they were home she'd turned distant and aloof. And then she had the gall to act surprised when he tried to make a clean break of it. He'd never understand women, that was certain.

Just as he was about to leave, he heard her call out to him: "Scott.... Scott...,". He looked back and thought he could make her out, surrounded by journalists. Warring impulses seized him then. He wanted off the plane and away from the woman that broke his heart. But he also wanted to go to her, plough through the gaggle of vultures from the press and wrap her in his arms.

"Come ON Ensign!" snapped the ratty little officer sent to retrieve Scott, and Scott reluctantly obeyed. Casting one final glance at the throng of journalists surrounding Ronnie, he heaved a forlorn sigh as he stepped out of the cavernous Starlifter. And the processing began.

He was hustled to a waiting Blackhawk helicopter where a clearly awestruck crewchief quickly instructed them in the proper use of seatbelts, something Scott found cute and endearing more than anything. They flew down to the base outside of San Diego where Scott and his XO were received like prodigal sons returned. The next few days were consumed with covering the rescue mission and the curveball of a siege thrown at them by the Taliban. They went through every painful detail of the deaths of their team members. They critiqued the executions of each foray out of the base. They recommended medals. They planned funerals.

The following weeks were filled with funerals and weeping widows, parents, and children. Then, federal agents descended on Scott, interrogating him on Dr. Berg and Veronica Price. Due to the secret nature of his work, Scott was exempt from appearing in court. He soon lost track of the case against Berg as he faced charges himself for assaulting journalists.The case was settled out of court and Scott got off with a slap on his wrist. Then began the psychiatric evaluations after Scott asked not to be put back in combat again. They poked and prodded him and tested him and documented nights of violent nightmares and adverse reactions from certain stimuli.

After six months, Scott was through the wringer. It was recommended he keep his rank in the SEAL community but that he should only be called into active duty in a national emergency. In short, he'd done his bit and was allowed to grow fat out in pasture as he trained new eager recruits. A large publishing house had started prodding him for a book about his time on the sharp end of America's spear. They also informed him that they were trying to reach Veronica for her side of the story, but that she was hard to reach. Maybe Scott knew...?

Scott didn't. Ever since he left the plane she'd been on the forefront of his mind. He'd initially thought she wanted to be rid of him, but after she called out after him as he left the plane, doubt had started gnawing at him. Every time her name came up during debriefs or interrogations, his heart fluttered even as his stomach knotted itself. God, had he misunderstood her completely and abandoned her? But why hadn't she responded when he asked her about moving to Virginia? Those two thoughts kept chasing each other when he couldn't sleep after nightmares. Which was often.

Six months to the day after he'd landed on U.S. soil he was approached by the base commander. Scott was overseeing an exercise involving large logs, muscled men in shorts, sweating, and a whole lot of cursing. He'd just finished chewing out a rather sorry group of volunteers when he was asked to step aside for a quick word. "Listen Scott, one of the instructors over in Virginia went and got himself killed in a car accident. Would you be willing to pull up stakes and move? We both know those East Coast pukes can't hold a candle to us, so maybe you can whip them into shape while you're at it?"

Scott smiled. Virginia. Ronnie was from Virginia. He'd done some searching for her, but he came up empty. It was as she'd disapeared off the face of the earth.

He accepted on the spot, and he was processed out the same day. He packed his few belongings, hopped in his car, and drove for the East Coast. The road trip was uneventful, and he reported to the base in Virginia Beach five days after leaving Coronado. On his trip there he had pondered how to go about finding Ronnie. He came to the conclusion that he'd have to do it the hard way. He would have to look for her in every hospital, every nursing home, everywhere where it was likely a nurse might be employed.

He wanted to fin her. He wanted to clear the air between them, to clear out any misunderstandings that might have arisen during that flight home. And so the search started. He drove around on his evenings and weekends off, looking for her. and he looked. And looked. Until one day...
 
Veronica was swamped with deep seated anxiety as the reporters crowded her, touching her shoulders and arms in bids to get her attention. Whirling from one loud person to the next, each trying to pepper her with questions, they all talked so quickly that it became a cacophony of noise and confusion. Panic-stricken, she tried to dodge around the reporters only to get accidentally knocked to the ground by a soldier swinging to the side to let recent arrivals through the crowd.

Crying out as the fall caused her to twist in order to protect her broken wrist, Veronica felt waves of agony shoot through her body as her injured ribs made known their continued healing state. She heard distant sounds of feminine cursing as more and more people crowded around and she curled herself in a protective ball.

"Dammit... Give the poor girl some breathing room, you idiots," came the honeyed drawl before she sensed people backing away.

"Ms Price, I'm Rosalind Lister. I'm here to help get you home."

Rosalind might have sounded like a genteel Southern lady, but she was a regular hellcat when it came to barking out orders to get a soldier to gently help Veronica up, berating the reporters for harassing her and high tailing her past a questionably efficient MP and off to a car where she was whisked to a doctor's office for examination and initial questioning from three men in suits with a confusing mixture of alphabet soup in credentials.

Veronica honestly couldn't recall what she was asked or how she responded, but eventually she was reunited with her parents who enveloped her in their embrace, causing her to break into a quiet bout of relieved weeping from its sheer familiarity. It might not have been as good as how she felt in Scott's arms, but she knew they loved her without question and weren't there from some misplaced sense of duty.

The next couple of months passed quickly thanks to her family and friends who did everything they could to help as she worked her way through barrage after barrage of testing and physical therapy. Her mother, always fiercely protective, was practically glued to her side until her father finally convinced her to give her a little breathing room... but if it wasn't her mother, it was one friend or another, or someone from the aid organization, who had awarded her a generous long term disability package.

While she had overheard her parents speaking to some suit about her being a potential target thanks to all the publicity surrounding her capture and return, she was still thankful that the organization had agreed to suspend any consideration of her going abroad anytime soon. However, even the possibility that this was true led her parents to lobby her into moving, which she did with the help of friends and family in the dead of night, to avoid reporters who were sniffing around in an attempt to find her.

She had just gotten settled into her new apartment when she was tapped to testify at hearings involving both Scott and Dr Berg. She had been so giddy at the thought of seeing Scott again that she had painstakingly primped for his hearing, only to find out that Scott was some sort of super secret soldier and whose identity was being protected. It was a sad testament to how much she had wanted to see him that she got goosebumps just hearing his voice on the specially distorted video that was shown in court.

Dr Berg's trial had been equally goose-bump worthy, but not of the good kind. She had arrived midway through the proceedings, and from the time she entered the room to the time she left, she had not been able to look up without Dr Berg impassively staring at her, his gaze leaving her feel hunted. More than once she had rubbed her arms self consciously as if trying to warm up, and didn't feel right until she had answered the questions posed to her and had gotten the heck out of there. She didn't care to know the final verdict - as long as she didn't have to ever see him again.

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Veronica wearily pushed herself up from the small couch she had sank into 20 minutes ago for her dinner break. She hadn't been able to do more than pick at the small salad she had brought from home, her appetite having deserted her about a month ago... right as she had started working part-time at Mercy General. She had managed to choke down a couple of bites, but what she had really wanted was to try to grab a couple of winks of sleep.

She was so very tired... More tired than she had ever been before. Sleep was no longer the refuge it had been when she first came back to the States. Back then, it allowed her to hold tight to her memories of Scott, reliving them and sometimes even spinning them into fantastical alternative endings. Now, she dreaded going to sleep - odd nightmares threatened to swamp her when she slept more than two hours at a time. So she didn't... she avoided extended sleeping whenever she could, opting for cat naps here and there. As long as it didn't impact her new job, she'd be okay.

Veronica laughed shortly. Yeah, she had enough issues here at work... She really didn't need to add to them. They had originally placed her in the Pediatric wing because of her former work with kids, but she had frozen so badly the first day when it came time to give patients injections that they had temporarily assigned her to assist in the triage section of the ER. Her mother had worried that this new assignment would be too stressful, but as long as she could avoid kids and needles, she'd be okay. Gonna have to get past that, goose!

She managed to get through the rest of her shift without incident, largely due to it being an extremely slow night. They didn't happen often, but the staff was always grateful when they did. Unfortunately, next week's full moon would probably bring all the crazies out so no telling what would happen then. Waving good-bye to the plainclothes officer that was stationed at the front desk, she wandered out to the parking lot to wait for the next bus, hands shoved into her pockets, feeling as if she could fall asleep standing up.
 
Scott was on his way homeafteranother fruitless search. He had started canvassing the outreach programmes for drug addicts and homeless people. He had cased a few hospitals as well as nursing homes. As a rule, they were tight lipped about giving out information about who worked there, and Scott understood the need for discretion. It was just infuriating to know she was in the area and having to look for the proverbial needle in the haystack.

Scott had managed to end up behind a bus that was infuriatingly slow. There was too much traffic for him to risk driving by. And so he had to endure waiting on every stop the bus did in the narrow streets. By the time the bus pulled up to the stop near Mercy Hospital Scott was literally grinding his teeth as he played aggressive heavy metal on the car's stereo and cursed the slow bus, the traffic, the narrow streets, and his choice of car. He was riding around in a Hummer, a car much too big for the old towns on the East Coast.

And then his heart skipped a beat. That woman entering the bus... he'd only gotten a glimpse of her, but there was something about the way she moved... and he thought he recognised her! Could it be? He had to know. His heart racing, Scott suddenly found himself happy to be held up by the bus. He was filled with a feeling of expectancy and renewd patience as he followed the bus from stop to stop, his heart sinking a little every time passengers got off and Veronica didn't show. But he was almost certain it was her!

He trailed the bus for what seemed the longest time, and he had started giving up hope when the bus pulled away from a stop and he saw her. It WAS Veronica! Nervousness and joy exploded in him as he beheld her. She looked tired. She was thinner. But it was her! Not at all caring about traffic regulations, he jumped out of his car and called for her in a voice that held equal parts of nervousness and happiness.

At first she didn't acknowledge him at all. When she did, she looked conused more than anything. Scott went up to her and just looked at her. She looked VERY tired. There was an awkward silence, and then he said: "I, um, I got a transfer. I've been thinking about you, Veronica. You've been on my mind ever since we came home and got separated. Now, I know you probably don't want to see me and be reminded of what you went through, but I thought we had something, brief though it was. I haven't been able to forget you, and it pained me more than you can imagine when you never answered me about us being together back home. But I fell in love with you, and to think that you loved me back only to get the silent treatment from you when we were nearer to home? That hurt, Veronica. And yet I am confused. You seemed so sincere with me back in Afghanistan. So I need to hear from you what is what. If you don't want me in your life, tell me so and this will be the last time I bother you."

This all came out extremely fast, and it was not what he'd intended to say at all. But this was six months of uncertainty and pent-up sorrow in a controlled release. Having a change of heart, suddenly convinced that they still had something, he impulsively reached out for her shoulder and said softly: "Ronnie..."
 
Veronica caught herself nodding off a couple of times while she waited and forced herself to walk around the area closest to the bus stop. If she didn't, she was convinced she was going to end up busting her head open or missing the bus, and neither option sounded appealing. The act of walking kept her awake enough, but she knew that if she stopped too long, her eyes would close, her head would nod and she'd start seeing things she really didn't understand or want to understand for that matter.

She had perhaps completed her tenth lap when the bus came creeping down the street. Angling her way to the stop itself, she waited for the bus to come to a stop before pulling her hands out of her pockets and climbing aboard, saying a quiet hello to the driver. Unfortunately the bus was pretty packed this evening, so she didn't find an empty seat until almost all the way in the back, although thankfully she had the seat all to herself.

Leaning her head against the window, Veronica hoped the coolness of the glass would help keep her awake until she got home. Fifteen minutes. She just had to make it fifteen more minutes, and then maybe she'd take some of that medicine Dr Sullivan had prescribed but she had never taken. She just wanted to sleep... sleep with no dreams... No nightmares... Just sleep.

The ride home seemed longer than normal. Several times her eyes had closed, only to snap open when her head bounced off the glass from the bus stopping. Veronica probably would have missed her stop if the driver hadn't called out, apparently having seen her nodding off. She stumbled down the aisle and almost missed the last step off the bus. God, she was so tired.

Sighing dispiritedly, Veronica figured she was more tired than she had thought when she thought she heard Scott calling her name. Scott, no Ensign Hartmann, her handsome rescuer who had seen her as nothing but a duty... A duty he was more than happy to shed once they had landed in the states. Ensign Hartmann, who her tired brain now had standing before her, taunting herself with a realistic depiction of his handsome self.

She couldn't figure out why she'd be tormenting herself like this, picturing him in front of her, speaking of a potential future together, when she knew very well that was not the case. And why in the world would she ever think she had given him the silent treatment? My god, she had practically thrown herself over the poor man, clinging to him like he was her sanity. No wonder he couldn't wait to get away from her.

It wasn't until she felt real fingers curl gently around her shoulder that Veronica started to realize that it really might be Scott in front of her and not some figment of her imagination. Things started to go black for a minute and she swayed as she murmured, "Scott?" in a shocked voice.
 
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"Scott?"

The shock and disbelief in her voice was almost palpable. Scott decided not to push too hard, at least until he knew what was what. He'd been given some time to think through their brief relationship at the besieged airbase, and he'd kicked himself several times over his behaviour on the flight home. He had pushed her on too many issues all at once because of his puppylike affection for her. He'd so wanted for everything to be alright for her, for the both of them. Sad to say, Scott was a seasoned veteran in short-term coping. But his mind had finally told him 'enough'. How could he expect everything to be alright for Ronnie just because he told her to, for Christ's sake!?

His hand hadn't let go of her shoulder. In the brief burst of self-recrimination, he'd looked her over. He was upset by what he saw. She looked dead on her feet, tired and drawn. She also looked emaciated. A fresh ache sprang up in his chest as he watched her. She seemed disoriented by his appearance, and who could blame her? He almost didn't believe it himself, finding her like this. Conflicting emotions coursed through him, but relief was the foremost feeling, a relief so great that he couldn't help but smile.

"Ver- Ronnie, you're really here!" He fought the urge to hug her. He opened his mouth to say more, to tell her how glad he was he'd found her, that he wanted to clear up any misunderstandings between them. He didn't know where to start, and as he stood there, struggling like a fish on land, he was interrupted.

A polite timid voice spoke up behind him: "Excuse me Sir, I hate to interrupt, but your car is- it's blocking the street." Scott turned around, letting go og Ronnie's shoulder. A pimply young man, clearly intimidated by Scott, looked nervously at the couple in front of him. Scott glanced at his car. He'd left the Hummer idling in the street, driver side door wide open. He'd blocked traffic both ways. Muttering an apology, Scott headed for his car. As he did so, he looked over his shoulder and addressed Ronnie: "Please don't leave, Ronnie!"

He jumped in his car and parked in the bus pocket, waving apologetically to the other trafficants as they honked and beeped and flashed their lights at him. When all had passed, he got out again, not giving a damn that he was illegally parked in the bus pocket. He hoped Ronnie hadn't disappeared in the short interlude he'd been away from her.
 
Veronica swayed on her feet, trying desperately to figure out if she had finally lost it or if Scott Hartmann, her handsome rescuer, was actually standing in front of her, hand on her shoulder. She blinked and the handsome face didn't disappearance. Blinked again and those beautiful blue eyes kept peering down at her like he was excited to see her, and his smile.... My god, his smile made her feel warm and tingly all over.

Ver- Ronnie, you're really here!

Her brow crinkled at the odd comment. Where else would she be? She shook her head, trying to clear the fog that constantly enveloped her after her shifts were over and she had nothing else to focus on. Now was not time for her to be spacey!

"Excuse me Sir, I hate to interrupt, but your car is- it's blocking the street."

The unexpected interruption caused Scott to spin around, causing his hand to drop from her shoulder, taking with it the small sense of comfort that had surrounded her when she realized he was real and not some hallucination of an overtired brain. She started to protest when Scott took off and then realized with no small amount of bemusement that he had left his car in the middle of the street, although at least this time he turned around as he left her.

Please don't leave, Ronnie!

A sudden wave of anger swept over her at his words causing her to outright gasp. She wasn't the one who had walked away, never looking back! A part of her wanted to turn on her heel and leave before he could come back, wanting him to see what it felt like to be deserted like that. But there was a bigger part of her that wanted to run after him, lest he disappeared on her again.

Walls of black started closing in on her from every side, and she was vaguely aware of a concerned voice on her right asking, "Are you alright, miss?" She swayed, trying to fight against the smothering sea of blackness that tried to engulf her.

"John, catch her..." urgently came the same feminine voice right before a large pair of hands caught her by the shoulders as a deep voice sounded from somewhere over her head, "Easy now, miss... Let's sit down before you faint on us."

Soon she found herself sitting on the sidewalk with her head between her knees, trying to figure out what had happened. She had been riding the bus home and had just gotten off when... Scott!

Her head whipped up, causing the waves of blackness to threaten again, but instead of Scott, she found herself looking at a young couple who were looking at her with concerned eyes. 'Oh god,' she thought, 'I'm starting to lose it.'
 
He couldn't see her. An animalistic sound of frustration and loss escaped him as he scanned his surroundings. She was nowhere to be seen. But... she had seemed, if not happy, then at least surprised to see him again. She also seemed a bit disoriented. Tired, maybe? He suddenly became aware of a young couple bending down over someone or something and looking concerned. Furrowing his brow, Scott approached. Sitting on the pavement, her head between her knees, was Ronnie.

Scott ran over in powerful strides as he full of concern yelled: "What happened? Is she okay!? Ronnie!" The young man stepped in front of him, clearly intimidated by Scott's size but determined to stand his ground and defend Ronnie nevertheless. "And just who are you, sir?", the young man demanded of Scott. Scott looked over the young man's shoulder and saw the young woman calmly talking to Ronnie. Scott inhaled deeply and calmed down. She seemed to be alright. She was breathing. She was replying to the young woman. A wave of relief crashed through him.

He produced his naval identity badge and told the brave young man: "My name is Scott Hartmann. I'm with the navy. I met nurse Veronica Price here in Afghanistan. I wanted to catch up with her, but I had to move my car. I returned just now from doing just that. It's that illegally parked Hummer over there." The words tumbled out of him like an avalanche. Worry was etched on his face and present in his voice. The young man believed him and stepped aside.

Scott rushed forward and kneeled down beside Ronnie. "Ronnie, are you alright? Please, say something."
 
Blushing a little over her near faint, Veronica listened as the couple introduced themselves as John and Sue and explained that they had seen her start to sway after some man had rushed off. Thinking that perhaps she wasn't totally losing her mind and that maybe she really had seen Scott, she tried to figure out a way to politely quiz the couple on what the man had looked like.

Unfortunately Sue was an EMT in training and insisted on asking her questions about her physical state, which kept her sluggish brain distracted enough that the opportunity to change subjects never seemed to happen. At some point, John stepped away but she was too busy trying to explain to Sue that she was a nurse and that she really was okay to see where he went. If she thought she heard her name being called, she was too tired to give it any heed. Sleep - she just needed another cat nap and she'd be okay.

Ronnie, are you alright? Please, say something.

She almost cried out when Scott suddenly dropped to his knees in front of her. As it was she couldn't stop the instinctive flinch away, even though she knew he wouldn't hurt her. Except maybe my heart...

Realizing belatedly that she had brought her hands up as if to shield herself from an attack, she lowered them to her knees and smiled weakly.

"I'm fine... Really. Just got a little light-headed," she said self consciously, wondering who upstairs hated her so that her first time seeing Scott after all this time would have her so worn out and him so... so wonderful looking.

Sighing mentally over how handsome he looked, she looked at Sue and reassured her again that she was okay. "My shift at the hospital just wore me out," she added, figuring the little white lie wouldn't hurt.

"I'm almost home... It won't take but five minutes before I can veg out in front of the TV," she continued, as she tried to get unsteadily to her feet.
 
The way she cringed and threw her arms up as he kneeled down was like a dagger through Scott's heart. He realized with a sinking heart how that little reflex might be construed. "I'm fine... Really. Just got a little light-headed," ... "My shift at the hospital just wore me out," ... "I'm almost home... It won't take but five minutes before I can veg out in front of the TV," she said reassuringly. But the damage was done. The young man pulled Scott forcefully away and confronted him.

"I think you need to leave, mister!" His jaw was set and his eyes were glaring. And he was afraid. Scott could almost smell the raw fear emanating from the young man. Scott tried reasoning with him, tried to tell him that it was all a horrible mistake: "No. It's not what it seems. We met in Afghanistan like I told you, and she... we... it..." and he found he didn't want to subject Ronnie to the pity of others by telling her story. Behind the young man, Scott saw the woman talking to Ronnie in a consoling voice. He heard snippets of the conversation. Words like "abuse", "shelter", and "police" reached Scott's ears.

And Scott found he really didn't want to make a scene. "I see I'm not going to get through to you," he told the young man, "and I don't want to escalate this. I haven't abused her. I am in fact in love with this woman, and I'm afraid I fucked up my chances on the return flight from Afghanistan." He leaned closer to the young man. "Look kid, I train selected recruits at Little Creek naval base. I am, strange as it may sound, a peaceful man. You have nothing to fear from me unless you do something really stupid." Scott spoke with a soft and low voice, but the young man backed away nevertheless. "Look, listen, I just want you to do one thing for me: give her my card."

Scott produced one of his cards and scribbled a short message on the back of it. Ronnie. Here is my cell phone number and office telephone number. Sir Blunderhead thinks I mean to harm you, it seems. Please please call me! Scott. He handed the card to the young man and watched as he gave it to the young woman who in turn gave it to Ronnie. Scott started slowly walking towards his car, hoping against hope that she would call for him, that the young couple were mistaken.
 
Swaying unsteadily for just a moment as she stood fully upright, Veronica was embarrassingly grateful when Sue grabbed her by the elbow, offering some support as she waited for the world to stop spinning. Murmuring that she should have known better than to stand up so quickly, she didn't immediately notice that Scott wasn't beside her until she looked over and saw what appeared to be a determined John squaring off against him a couple of steps away.

She looked at Sue for an explanation and was nonplussed when the young woman started talking about going to a woman's shelter and that she didn't have to stay in an abusive relationship. It wasn't until she started talking about them helping her get to the police to file charges that her tired brain finally connected the dots.

Veronica felt an almost hysterical bubble of laughter start to well up as she shook her head frantically. "Ohmigod, you guys can't think that Scott... I haven't seen him since...," she tried to say as her fractured thoughts kept running together, and it was apparent by the skeptical look on Sue's face that she wasn't helping matters.

She became aware of the attention that their little cluster was drawing from the other pedestrians, and she shrank inside at the admonition of her parents and the scary men in suits to keep a low profile. She needed to get off the street and behind her locked door before someone recognized her. The last she wanted was to see her face splashed in the news again, especially after the care that had been taken to get her to blend in.

Taking a deep breath, Veronica forced a smile and said lightly, "Please, Sue, trust me... I'm just dead on my feet... Scott is... was... Scott helped me out of a difficult situation months ago. I'm not afraid of him... truly."

There must have been enough conviction in her voice as Sue nodded and she seemed to relax her stance. The two of them turned to face John who walked up looking like he wanted to throw up. He whispered something in Sue's ear as Veronica looked over his shoulder, expecting Scott to come walking up. Frowning when she didn't see him, she started forward, only to stop suddenly when she saw a mobile news van heading down the street towards them.

Even though she was fairly certain the van wasn't there for her, its presence spooked her enough that she used the other couple as a human shield. There was a loud buzzing in her ears and the black walls threatened to close in on her again, and it was only sheer stubbornness that kept her upright as Sue said something before pressing something in her hand.

Her fingers clutched what felt like a business card, its heavy card stock biting into her hand when she clutched it reflexively. Veronica finally got a chance to look for Scott and was struck by a sudden feeling of déjà vu as she watched him walking away, although there was a less resolute set to his shoulders than the last time. Half of her wanted to call out, hoping he'd turn around and come back, but the other half of her didn't want her first conversation with her former rescuer to be when she could barely stand upright.

Knowing she needed that cat nap before she could deal with the roiling mess of emotions that had kicked up at seeing Scott, she asked the young couple if she could trouble them for one more thing. They were happy to escort her to her apartment building and would have likely delivered her to her door if Mr Jones, the superintendent hadn't been entering the building.

A former boxing champion who liked to look out for the tenants, especially the single women, in his building, Mr Jones had taken one look at her and had insisted on getting her up to her place. Thanking the couple profusely, Veronica had waved goodbye before Mr Jones had taken her by the elbow and helped her to the elevator, up to her floor and to her door, fussing at her the entire time about finding herself a man to make sure she took care of herself.

He didn't wait for her to fish her keys out of her purse, opting to open the door with his master key and shooing her inside. She smiled her thanks somewhat crookedly, and shut and locked the door before staggering almost drunkenly to her bedroom where she collapsed on the bed and fell asleep.

************

Several hours later, Veronica sat bolt upright, choking down a partial scream. The lamp in the corner of the room that was always on cast a comforting glow and helped orient her to her surroundings almost as soon as her eyes were open. Even still, it took her several long minutes before her racing pulse calmed down and her fists unclenched, the details of her nightmare already fading away. And that's when she discovered the card she had almost mangled in her fright.

Smoothing out the card, she realized that somehow she had gotten Scott's contact information, and her stupid heart started beating faster when she read his message. He had looked so handsome, so relaxed! She was ashamed to say she was a little envious of how easily he had made the transition home, and was instantly ashamed. After everything he and his men had gone through, he deserved happiness!

Placing the card on her dresser, she forced herself to change out of her work clothes, taking a long shower in an attempt to wake herself up. Once she had changed into a pair of black yoga pants and an old college sweatshirt and pulled her hair into a slick ponytail, her eyes fell on the card. She chewed on her thumb as she wrestled with her options, but in the end she couldn't stop herself from calling, if nothing more than to hear his voice.

Her fingers actually shook as she dialed the number, and Veronica paced the room while the phone rang, but in the end it simply rang and rang. She was getting ready to hang up when it finally kicked over to his unavailable greeting. Her lips twisted in a wry smile when she heard his voice barking out the command to leave a message at the beep. There was a small pause before she realized she needed to actually leave the message.

"Hi, Scott... It's, um, me... Veronica... Veronica Price. I'm, um, sorry about earlier. I don't know why John and Sue thought... Well, I'm sorry." There was another pause before she added, "You look good, Scott... California must be treating you well." Not knowing what else to say, she went to hang up and realized he didn't have her number, so she rattled it off quickly before she ran out of recording time and hung up.

Feeling like a preteen with her first crush, Veronica sighed heavily and padded out to the kitchen to see if there was anything that looked appealing before she settled into her evening routine of listening to music and reading.
 
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Scott wanted to cry. A part of him knew that Ronnie was traumatized, and that any sudden movement might set off a defensive reflex in her. Still, his less rational side told him that she had been afraid of him. Of HIM! It hurt. But he didn't want to press the issue. Things were complicated enough for the two of them to work out without adding the complication of meddling bystanders. So Scott got in his car and drove off.

He drove around at random for a few hours. He ended up on the beach near Little Creek, wistfully staring out at the ocean. Maybe he should re-apply for active service? It'd be an uphill struggle, but he'd get away from the USA, away from distracting thoughts about things that were not meant to be. And out there on the beach, Scott cried. He was disappointed and sad. Meeting Ronnie again wasn't at all as he'd pictured it. She hadn't seemed too pleased to see him. But then, she looked dead on her feet. Maybe if... but no, he didn't want to impose on her. if she called him, great. If she didn't, so be it. It took Scott the best part of two hours to calm his inner turmoil. Then he drove home.

Arriving home, Scott at first didn't notice the light on his answering machine. He went to the kitchen and made a quick late supper. Sitting down in front of the TV, he watched the news. More trouble in the Middle east, but that was hardly news. Scott sighed. No matter what he tried to distract himself with, he always saw Ronnie before him. He switched the TV off with a frustrated grunt. And only then, as he restlessly started pacing his small flat, did he notice he had a message on his answering machine. Heart pounding he hit "play" and heard: "Hi, Scott... It's, um, me... Veronica... Veronica Price. I'm, um, sorry about earlier. I don't know why John and Sue thought... Well, I'm sorry. You look good, Scott... California must be treating you well." And then she rattled off her number. Scrambling for his cellphone, he had to play the message again as he entered her number in the memory of the telephone.

And then he sat down, almost dizzy with anticipation and regret. He'd done it again. He'd misinterpreted her and let his wounded pride get the better of him. He pondered whether or not to call her. Then he mentally chided himself for even considering NOT calling her. He checked the clock. Was it too late? Shrugging, he didn't care. He lifted the receiver and dialled her number. He heard the ringtone, and his anticipation again rose.
 
Bending at the waist to see into the back of the refrigerator, Veronica tried to find something that tempted her. Her mother had made sure it was stocked with lots of her favorite foods, but she really didn't feel like eating. Nothing seemed to tempt her these days, but she knew she had to. Sighing, she reached for a bottle of chocolate Ensure thinking she'd be able to choke down half of it before her stomach rebelled.

Backing up, she closed the refrigerator door with a bump of her hip and twisted the cap off before heading out to the small living room. The curtains were drawn like normal, and the floor lamp behind the couch stood sentinel over her favorite spot to curl up. Like the lamp in the bedroom, it was always on in case she fell asleep on the couch.

Her lips twisted, knowing that she had developed a thing about sleeping in the dark that she really should talk to someone about, but Veronica was tired of talking about her issues. Talking, talking, talking... Talking didn't change the fact that bad things sometimes happened, and she just needed to get over it already.

Plopping down on the couch, pulling a blanket over her legs, she picked up the remote controller to the stereo and turned it on, strains of the Latin acoustic guitar CD she had last listened to filling the room. Snagging the mystery novel her father had recommended, she flipped to where she had left off, wondering if she'd be able to figure out the storyline before the end again. So far she had figured out all the other books her father had recommended, and he was determined to find one that challenged her. Smiling slightly, she settled in to read, promptly losing herself in the 1920s gumshoe detective novel.

******************

It took her a minute to recognize the faint sound that was in the periphery before Veronica realized her cell phone was ringing in her bedroom. Kicking off the blanket, she used her finger to keep her place while hurrying down the hall to snag it off her bed. She didn't recognize the number that was displayed, but clicked the answer button anyway.

"Hello?" she asked cautiously, heading back towards the living room, assuming it was going to be a wrong number.
 
Scott waited. And waited. He was just about to hang up when he heard the unmistakeable click of someone answering. And then, unmistakeably, her voice: "Hello?"

Scott swallowed hard, then swallowed again. A thousand thoughts rushed through his head all at once. It was great to hear her voice, he was glad she'd called, he was determined to not let his pride get the best of him again, her voice reminded him of the siege... and more. But first and foremost, his heart lurched and his mood lifted. He was afraid now of scaring her off. And he had so much to tell her. All these thoughts, emotions really, coursed through him in the blink of an eye.

"R-Ronnie? Hi, it's me. Scott. I'm- thanks for calling and leaving your number, I- was afraid that..." He heaved a ragged sigh. Emotions were coming to the fore and he had to gulp down a big lump in his throat lest he start bawling on the phone. "I was afraid you didn't want to see me again. I've kicked myself daily ever since I go off that plane. It was unfair of me to push you on... things and I..."

It was no good. Tears started streaking down his face. Just talking to her again was like a catharsis. He drew a ragged breath and said: "I'm sorry Ronnie. I've missed you."
 
At first Veronica was thought it might be one of those odd calls she had been getting for the last week, the one where she was pretty sure she heard someone breathing but no one answered when she repeatedly asked who was there. This time, however, she clearly heard an indrawn breath and then the sound of someone swallowing not once, but twice.

This was just getting ready to tell the person to stop calling her when she heard a familiar voice.

R-Ronnie? Hi, it's me. Scott. I'm- thanks for calling and leaving your number, I- was afraid that...

It was a good thing she had reached the couch as her legs buckled at hearing Scott's deep voice and she collapsed on the couch, her book flopping to the cushions forgotten as she clutched the phone in both hands. Oh god, it was so good to hear his voice, although it sounded like he was having a hard time talking and her eyes narrowed with concern.

I was afraid you didn't want to see me again. I've kicked myself daily ever since I go off that plane. It was unfair of me to push you on... things and I...

Her forehead wrinkled, unsure what he was talking about. 'Push me on what?' she thought in confusion. The only thing he had done was push her away.

I'm sorry, Ronnie. I've missed you.

Veronica drew in her own steadying breath. There had been so much she had planned on saying to her rescuer if she ever got a chance to see or talk to him again, but all her carefully planned little speeches went completely out the window. Licking her dry lips, she replied softly with the only thing that came to mind, "I've missed you too..."

Not wanting to admit that she had spaced out a good portion of the trip back and that she wasn't sure what he was talking about, she rushed to add, "How long are you on the east coast, Scott," thinking it would be nice to see him before he headed home.
 
"I've missed you too..."

To hear her say those four little words was all Scott had hoped for. All tension left him as he heard her say that, and he slumped in his couch, his shoulders suddenly soft, his mind clear with relief, his stomach filled with butterflies. She missed me! Scott's relief was so great that he had to stop himself from chuckling. There was a short but pregnant pause as both of them apparently took stock of what had been said. Then she plunged ahead: "How long are you on the east coast, Scott?"

Scott smiled again. She didn't know yet. "Yeah, about that..." he started. He was smiling with his whole being now. If people had walked behind him now they could probably have told that he was smiling. It shone through when he spoke as well. With a childish giddiness he continued: "I've been transferred. I am now stationed at Little Creek as a SEAL instructor. That's not too far from where you work, Ronnie. And I am no longer asked to serve overseas. I can- we can-"

But now he was getting ahead of himself. Now he was being presumptuous. With all previous misunderstandings between them, he couldn't just expect to come waltzing back into her life as if nothing had happened. Growing bashful all at once, he cleared his throat. "What I mean to say is, I'd love to meet you again, Ronnie. Maybe we could go out for dinner and just, you know, talk. Get reaquainted. I'd really love to see you again, Ronnie."
 
Tucking her legs under, Veronica curled against the side of the couch and tried to tell herself to calm down. Her poor heart was racing like she had just completed a marathon as she anxiously waited for Scott's reply. She was mentally trying to picture her work schedule, wondering if she could swap days with anyone when she heard him drawl, Yeah, about that...

Her mouth actually dropped open in shock when she heard him explain about being transferred. Oh my goodness - he was so close! The very idea of being able to see his handsome face and maybe even feel his arms around her again left physically trembling. Holy cow, this was more than she dared dream when she woke up with his business card in her hand.

Unfortunately that thought was a cold splash of reality, and she bit her lip at the reminder of how very different their adjustments back were going. She was embarrassed by how she was still letting things bother her especially considering everything he had had to go through on a day in and day out basis as a SEAL. She was a mess compared to him, and didn't want to trouble him with her petty issues.

What I mean to say is, I'd love to meet you again, Ronnie. Maybe we could go out for dinner and just, you know, talk. Get reaquainted. I'd really love to see you again, Ronnie.

Veronica blinked and blinked again as she tried to process his words. Just about everything inside her was jumping up and down like a little kid at Christmas, wiggling in excitement at the thought of going out, while a sarcastic voice was caustically asking how well she did eating and talking these days. She drew in a breath to answer when she heard the double beep signaling an incoming call.

"Just a minute, Scott," she said, "I have another call."

Clicking over, she answered distractedly, "Hello?" She didn't immediately notice the silence as she struggled with how to respond to Scott's comment about getting together. He had sounded almost shy when he had said it, and she found that oddly endearing and her lips twitched in a soft smile.

There was the tiniest of sounds, drawing her attention back to the phone and she frowned as she realized that no one had ever responded. "Hello?!" she repeated but outside the barest of breaths, she got no answer. Nothing but an awful sensation of someone out there listening to her, listening and doing heaven knows what.

"Darn it... stop calling me!" she said in a sharp tone before terminating the connection. Her hands were shaking so hard that she almost dropped the phone when it reconnected with Scott.

"S-s-sorry about t-t-that," she stuttered, trying to get ahold of herself. She didn't want to think about eating or talking, but she desperately wanted to see him. While it was completely shameful, she knew that simply being in his presence would make her feel safer than she had in months.

"Maybe a movie?" she offered, thinking it was a perfect alternative. She'd get to sit close to him, and wouldn't have to worry about much eating or talking.
 
"Just a minute, Scott, I have another call."

Scott waited. He could wait, sure. He took stock of their conversation so far. She seemed standoff-ish, but that was to be expected. He didn't think she'd swoon and fall into his arms. Well, she had actually swooned, but not into his arms. He cringed again as he thought of the way she'd flinched when she saw him. It was a painful memory, but-

She was back on the line, it seemed. There was a moment where all he heard was some flutter against the receiver, and for one panicked moment he thought she'd fainted. "S-s-sorry about t-t-that," she stuttered, and Scott sat upright, alarms going off in his head. She sounded frightened. And fatigued. Scott was about to ask if anything was wrtong when she ploughed on: "Maybe a movie?"

A movie!? It wasn't the best venue to reconnect, but it was still something. "Are you thinking a cinema or rental at one of our places? And when can we meet? I have most afternoons and weekends off for the time being." Scott was uneasy. Something was bothering her.
 
Are you thinking a cinema or rental at one of our places? And when can we meet? I have most afternoons and weekends off for the time being.

Veronica chewed the hell out of her lip as she debated the options. She had honestly been thinking a true cinema when she originally suggested the movies, thinking it would be a nice neutral place where talking would be minimized but their shoulders might actually touch. But outside of going to and from work, she didn't care for being outside in the real world, especially since the annoying phone calls had started.

Watching a movie at one of their places, however.... There was an intimacy there that she wasn't sure she was ready for, and it sure would be a lot harder to avoid talking if it was just them and she couldn't distract him with a bit of people watching. Even still, there was no denying she'd much rather take the chance of stilted conversation than feel the pins and needles of whether or not someone might recognize her.

Thinking she might feel more comfortable in her own apartment, Veronica took a deep breath and replied, "My place, maybe?" before adding in a soft voice, "I'm off for the next three days... if you're interested in sooner than later."
 
"My place, maybe? I'm off for the next three days... if you're interested in sooner than later."

Scott smiled. Sooner would suit him just fine. "It's getting to be a little late now, but I'd love to se you tomorrow. I'll try to get off work early, and then maybe we could... I don't know, eat somewhere? Or we- I could make dinner at your place? I'm actually pretty handy in the kitchen. I pick and cook the meal, you pick the film and I'll help with the dishes?" He was eager now, eager like a puppy that had found its favourite toy. Best to slow down. "Or if you need a little more space, I could come along later. It's totally up to you Ronnie."

He was doing it again. He was becoming too eager. Then he was aware that he was becoming too eager and started backing down in a pushy way. Best to end this. There was an awkward silence. "So yeah, why don't you just call me or text me tomorrow? I- it's great to hear from you again."

But something is very off in your voice, Ronnie. You sounded scared just now. What's bothering you? Is it me? These thoughts rushed through Scott in the blink of an eye. But the closest he got to addressing these issues was when he said: "If- if you feel the need to talk with someone I'm here for you. Any time. Literally. Day or night. I'll-"

Damn it! It was hard to say goodbye to her! But they both needed rest. "So, uh, see you tomorrow? Bye, Ronnie." And he hung up.

Scott stared at the telephone for a long long time, debating with himself whether or not he should call her up again. In the end he decided against it. He showered and promptly fell asleep.

His dreams were vivid. He was back in Afghanistan, watching Ronnie huddle in a corner. "Help me" she muttered softly, so loud it filled his head. She was shaking like a leaf, and she shied away from him every time he tried to help her. In a corner stood Dr. Berg, grinning with needle teeth as he laughed at and mocked both Scott and Ronnie. Explosions filled all of Scott's senses now, deafening him, shaking him, jolting him

awake. It was 4:43 in the morning, and he was wide awake, sweating and shaking like a leaf. Knowing from previous experience that sleep was an impossibility now, he pulled on his sweats and started on an early morning jog before hitting the gym. After a quick shower and breakfast he jumped in his Hummer and headed for work at Little Creek Naval Base. He kept checking his cellphone, driving the other instructors to distraction. He was waiting for Ronnie to call or message him.
 
There was a heartbeat or two's worth of silence, and Veronica wondered if perhaps she had come across too pushy, too needy in her desire to see him again. She closed her eyes trying to fight back the tears that suddenly welled up at the thought of scaring him off again. Damn it, hadn't she learned her lesson on the flight back. Men like Scott didn't want to see sniveling, clingy women. They wanted...

It's getting to be a little late now, but I'd love to see you tomorrow. I'll try to get off work early, and then maybe we could... I don't know, eat somewhere?

Thankfully he couldn't see her face as silent tears of relief started trickling from the corners of her eyes. He still wanted to get together... And tomorrow!! Her eyes shot open as she heard him suggest making dinner at her place. Looking over at her tiny kitchen, she tried to picture Scott puttering around it, and the mental image cleared her tears, a soft smile on her lips.

Or if you need a little more space, I could come along later. It's totally up to you Ronnie.

Her excitement dimmed a little at the sudden change in his voice, leaving her to wonder if it was really Scott that needed the space that he was offering up so nonchalantly. She opened her mouth to just ask him outright, but then chickened out, figuring she shouldn't ask questions that she wasn't prepared to hear its answers, and simply said, "Ok."

There was an awkward silence that she had no clue had to fill. She didn't want to hang up, but her ability to interact with people socially had been seriously hampered since her return stateside and she didn't want to use up the few gambits of conversation she'd be able to use the next day. Scott must have felt the awkwardness too, and he started what was clearly the beginning of a goodbye with a request for her to call or text him with the details the next day.

If- if you feel the need to talk with someone I'm here for you. Any time. Literally. Day or night. I'll-

His unexpected offer hung in the air for a moment, and Veronica was solely tempted to tell him about the odd phone calls but didn't want to admit how unnerving they were, how reminiscent of her time in captivity when her eyes would be blindfolded but she knew there was someone there with her before they...

So, uh, see you tomorrow? Bye, Ronnie.

She wasn't sure if Scott even heard her shaky goodbye before their call was terminated, and she sighed deeply in regret. She really had to stop dwelling on the past. What had happened had happened, and there was so sense it letting it affect her now. Telling herself that she at least had something to look forward to the next day, she curled back on the couch and tried losing herself in her book.

****************************

The sound of a shrill scream startled Veronica awake, and she nearly fell out of bed trying to get untangled from the sheets that had her legs captured. Her heart was racing, and her entire body was dripping in sweat as she looked wildly around the room for the source of the screaming. After a moment or two, she realized where she was and sank back on the bed with a groan.

Thank god her neighbors were on vacation this week, or she'd probably be hearing a knock on the door asking if everything was okay. She still got funny looks from the Wilsons from time to time, and Mr Jones had teased her once that perhaps they thought she was into kinky sex or something.

Looking over at the clock, Veronica wasn't overly surprised to see that it was only 7am, although she had somehow eked out one more hour than her normal two hours before the nightmares must have started up. Refusing to think about them, she finished kicking off the covers and padded barefoot to the bathroom to take a long shower.

After the shower, she had slipped on a pair of shorts and a t-shirt and went about changing the sheets, making the bed and putting away the pile of folded clothes she had been ignoring. She moved about the apartment tidying up, although truthfully there really wasn't a lot to do, but she needed the normalcy of puttering around to keep her centered.

Putting her hands on her hips, Veronica looked around and decided there was nothing else she could do to get her place ready for Scott. Her heart gave a little flutter at the thought of their date. Well, at least she thought it was a date. Chewing on a fingernail, she decided she was going to consider it a date until proven otherwise.

Remembering his request from the night before, she picked up her phone to send him a text.

Dinner at my place works for me if you're still interested. What type of movie would you like to watch?

Pulling out her laptop, she checked her email and started playing Solitaire to kill time, wondering how she was going to make it through the long day before she'd get to see Scott.
 
Scott was in the middle of a refresher course about the latest developments in assault rifle technology when he felt a buzzing vibration in his breast pocket. The rest of the lecture crept slowly by as he fidgeted, anxious to read the message. When he finally read it (Dinner at my place works for me if you're still interested. What type of movie would you like to watch?) he whooped with joy. Thinking for a few moments, he replied: Great! :) As long as it isn't a war movie or a very gory horror movie I'm up for anything. I'm looking forward to see you again, Ronnie!

The rest of the day seemed to never want to end as Scott checked and rechecked his watch. When the day finally ended, he felt like a teenager being dismissed after a long day at school. He rushed to a supermarket to purchase ingredients for dinner. He was gripped by doubt when he started shopping. Did she have any allergies? He had read her health profile at the briefing before the rescue, but that might as well have been a lifetime ago. Panicking, he bought enough ingredients for three different meals: Steak with salad and potatoes, homemade pasta, or grilled salmon with potatoes and salad. Not very inventive but Scott wasn't exactly a master chef, though he liked to dabble with cooking.

Driving over, he was fidgeting, checking his reflection, fussing over his appearance in general. He was dressed in fatigues. Maybe he should drive home and change? Would seeing him like this jolt her in a bad way? He hoped not. He messaged her again to get her address, then drove straight there.

After finding a parking spot, he went to her building and was let in by a rathe large and well built man that moved with a grace that told Scott that he was a former athlete of some sort. He didn' seem like a man you wanted to mess with. Scott was happy to find that this man was the building's superintendent.

"Visiting Miss Price, huh?" A genuine smile spread across the man's lips. "I'll show you to her door. No, no trouble," he said as Scott starte to protest. Scott felt that he was almost interrogated by the friendly man (Mr. Jones, apparently) as they made their way to Ronnie's apartment. Then they were there, and Mr. Jones rang the doorbell before promptly vanishing.

After a little pause where Scott could have sworn he saw a quick shadow in the door's peephole, it opened. Scott, nervous as the same schoolboy he'd felt like earlier, gave her a shy lopsided grin. "Hi Ronnie. I forgot if you had any allergies or not, so I sort of panicked and bought foodstuff for several dinners." He felt like a bumbling fool, standing there with shopping bags in both his arms.

"It's great to see you again, Ronnie," he added, not caring to try to keep his emotions out of his voice.
 
Veronica was going cross eyed from back to back to back solitaire games when she heard her phone chirp an incoming text message. Picking it up, she smiled to herself when she saw that it was from Scott, and snorted when she saw his comment on his movie preference. There was no chance that she'd select something from either genre. She had never been a fan of war movies, and the idea of watching even a slightly scary movie was enough to turn her stomach. She had enough nightmares... She didn't need to add to them.

She was getting ready to text him back about looking forward to seeing him as well when her doorbell rang. Frowning a little, she padded over to the front door and lifted up on her toes to peer out the peephole. Seeing Mr Jones standing beside pimply faced teen carrying a box, she opened the door with a confused smile on her face.

"This here young fella has a delivery for you, my dear," Mr Jones said with a gesture at the bored looking teen.

"I didn't order anything..." she started to say before the gum cracking young man thrust a clipboard at her and pointed to where she needed to sign.

A quick scan at the paper in front of her indicated the delivery was from a nearby florist, and she ended up signing the paper when the young man indicated that he had twenty more deliveries to make and could she please hurry up. With her signature on the paper, he grabbed the board, handed her a long, white narrow box and spun on his heel for the elevator.

Veronica looked at Mr Jones, who just shook his head and muttered something about today's youth before his walkie talkie squawked about a plumbing emergency on the second floor. She waved to him before ducking back inside the apartment with the box in hand and carrying it over to the small table she used for eating.

Carefully slitting the box open, she opened it, revealing a beautiful arrangement of red roses. She poked inside the box looking for a clue as to who sent the flowers, and when she didn't find anything, she examined the outside of the box. Her brows knit when there was no card to be found.

"Weird," she said aloud as she went to the kitchen and pulled down a vase from the cabinet. It wasn't her birthday, and while her parents occasionally sent her a cheerful arrangement, they normally sent tulips, not roses. Wondering if the florist had messed up their order, she trimmed the stems with a sharp knife and carefully arranged them, fanning them out to maximize their look. She left the vase on the table, although she figured she'd have to move it later or she and Scott wouldn't be able to see each other when they sat down for dinner.

Veronica tried calling her parents to thank them for the flowers, but they weren't at home so she left a message. Checking the time, she groaned as she saw she still had at least six hours before Scott might be over. She seriously considered taking one of the pills that the doctor had prescribed to help her sleep. Besides making the time go by faster, it might actually help her be more alert when he showed up, but she couldn't stand the thought of not being able to escape the nightmares when they started up again.

Dismissing the idea of finally cracking into prescription bottle waiting in her medicine closet, she wandered back to her laptop where she posted on a couple of her friends' walls on Facebook before losing herself in mindless solitaire games once more.

****************

Veronica paced the length of her apartment, absently twisting a small section of hair around her index finger. She had texted Scott with her address twenty minutes before, and had practically worn a path in the carpet ever since. Oh god, she was so nervous. She must have changed outfits ten times before slipping back into her original shorts and tee shirt. The other outfits were either too dressy for an evening at home or hung on her, reminding her of how much weight she had lost since getting home.

Catching herself yawning, she tried to remember when she ate last and shrugged. At least this way, she should be able to eat a little of whatever Scott was making. She chewed on her lip, wondering if she had selected the right movie options. She hadn't wanted to do anything overly romantic especially as she wasn't sure if this was really a date or not, so she figured she couldn't go wrong with Mr and Mrs Smith or Lara Croft: Tomb Raider. And if he wasn't interested in either of those, she had pretty much every James Bon movie ever made.

The sound of the doorbell ringing nearly caused Veronica to trip, and her heart started beating double time as she made her way to the door. Peeking through the peephole, she saw Scott standing there with his arms full of bags and wondered exactly how many people he thought he'd be feeding. Unlocking the door, she opened it and said, "Hi Scott. Looks like you're planning on feeding an army."

Hi Ronnie. I forgot if you had any allergies or not, so I sort of panicked and bought foodstuff for several dinners.

His smile made her stomach do a loop-de-loop, and she simply stared at him for a minute, her eyes memorizing every angle of his face. It wasn't until he spoke again that she realized she was blocking him from entering the apartment. Taking a quick step backward, she waved him inside with an embarrassed smile, "It's lovely to see you too, Scott. Please... come in."

She would have said something else, but the minute he crossed the threshold of the apartment, her cell phone started ringing and she excused herself to go answer it. Glancing at the display, she saw that it was her mother and answered it quickly, while pointing Scott towards the kitchen. The conversation started pleasant enough, although she ended up turning away from Scott when her mother informed her that they hadn't sent her any flowers that day. Her voice reflected her confusion as she turned to look at the roses, although she forced a more chipper note when she explained that she needed to go as she was having a friend over for dinner.

Knowing she'd be grilled the next time they spoke, Veronica promised her mother that she wouldn't forget to send her great aunt a birthday card the next week and hung up. She turned back to the kitchen where she found Scott stashing items into the refrigerator. Leaning against the counter, she hugged her arms around her middle to keep from throwing herself at him and said in a light tone, "You do know that not everyone eats like a SEAL, right?"
 
"It's lovely to see you too, Scott. Please... come in."

The smile she gave him lit up her face, reminding Scott more of the Ronnie he'd gotten to know on the airbase in Afghanistan a lifetime ago. But she was thin, and Scott couldn't help but worry for her. She looked worn out. Nevertheless, it was so good to see her again that Scott couldn't help himself. That shy lopsided grin of his gave way to a beaming smile as she let him into her apartment. Scott was just about to say something when the telephone rang. She pointed him to the kitchen and answered the phone. It was her mom, by the sound of it.

Scott busied himself with emptying the bags of food. He noticed with worry that her refrigerator was almost empty. He heard Ronnie talking still, something about flowers. Scott shrugged. It wasn't polite to eavesdrop, so he started running some water to drown out the conversation and wash his hands as he prepared to start cooking. He decided on the salmon, as the ingredients for the other dinners kept better than fish.

Emptying the last of his bags now as he heard her end the call, he was mentally prepared for anything. They had parted on what Scott thought to be a misunderstanding on his part, compounded by her infuriating ability to shut things firmly away. She was paying for it now, it seemed. Keep things locked down, they'll spring out at you when you least want it or need it. He wanted to talk to her about this, but he didn't want to repeat the same mistakes he'd been guilty of before. He would wait, maybe ease into it if an opportunity presented itself. So when she entered the kitchen, he drew a deep breath, ready for anything.

"You do know that not everyone eats like a SEAL, right?"
Her tone seemed genuinely light, her body language was another matter. She seemed to want to protect herself. Scott played along.

"If this is about the fish... bears eat fish too, you know!" He laughed out the breath he'd held. It was a weak joke, but he needed that levity now as much as he got the impression that she did. After a few awkward pauses and false starts, Scott started talking about what he'd been up to since he got home. He told her about training candidates for BUD/S (the non-classified aspects, anyway), he told about how he got offered a job in Virginia after an instructor over here had died in a car crash, he told her of the boring minutiae of everyday life in the SEAL community. Dull stuff, but a safe enough topic.

As he talked he chopped up the fish, deciding on baking it in the oven rather than frying it in a skillet. After putting the fish and the potatoes in the oven, he went to work on a salad. It was while working on the greens that he started talking about more sensitive stuff.

"So how did the trial against Berg go? I wanted to be there to testify, but some suit from some alphabet soup agency told me that I was too much of a high profile target after... after what we went through in Afghanistan. Ridiculous, really. But, orders are orders." He shrugged and sighed.

"My own trial with the journalists was settled out of court. The Navy threw money at the problem to make it disappear. They're good at that." He paused. He wanted to clear the air between them so badly, but he didn't want to push too hard.

"I- they put me through the wringer when I got back. I told them 'no more active duty for me', and they concurred. But they only concurred after lengthy therapy sessions, sleep monitoring, and testing of my involuntary reactions. After they were satisfied that I could still function as an instructor, they told me they'd only call on me during a national emergency." He paused. This was it. "I still have problems sleeping at times. I still agonize over some of the decisions I made. I had an especially hard time when burying my men." He'd stopped chopping vegetables now. Deep sigh.

"And I missed you, Ronnie. I missed you more than I can say." There. It was out.
 
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