Lois was flying. It was only a simulator, but she was up and flying. Her eyes were burning, she had to blink away the incipient tears. She didn’t want to brush at her eyes; Kendall would notice when she had him take the collective to free up her hand to do so. Instead, she blinked hard and banked right so that she’d have an excuse to look out the side window away from him. The simulator’s pistons canted the cockpit to match her control motions and the video projected on the windows showed the land rotating below her.
Kendall and Jake left her alone and just let her fly. She shook it out a bit, testing her reactions, testing her foot. The control wasn’t as bad as she’d feared. The nerve sensations coming up her right leg were different, but she learned to interpret what they were telling her fairly quickly.
Jake threw a small thunderstorm up on the screen, not much more than a squall line, and she climbed for safety and rode out the turbulence. Her gut informed her that her tail rotor control of the rudder pedals wasn’t great, but it wasn’t bad either. Maybe she could get a civilian job, flying tourists around or something.
After she took them “back to the field,” landed, and shut down, she had to just sit there for a long time before she remembered how to breathe. She heard Jake shut down his control station and head down the stairs. When Kendall peeled her left hand off the now inactive collective and held it in his, that’s when the pain really began to flow. It took everything she had left in her to keep the tears on the inside.
• • •
“I lost so much.” Lois hadn’t really been functional after the simulated flight. She’d let herself be led by Kendall. Down the stairs, to his car, back to her apartment. There she’d simply handed him her keys, and he’d let them in.
She’d kept her composure through delivery pizza. Held it together while they spoke of nothing at all really. At least not that she could remember.
“Well, I should—”
“Will you stay?” She could hear his “it’s time to leave tone,” and she really didn’t want to be alone.
Kendall looked at her as if not quite believing what he was hearing.
“Okay, I know I’m a bad bet. I’m”—to hell with the WTU’s words-to-avoid list—“crippled. I’m an emotional train wreck. And I can’t promise I won’t be a worse one tomorrow.”
“I could sit with you—”
“I’m no longer an invalid in a hospital bed.” She stopped herself before it turned into a shout. Getting to her feet, she clomped away from where they’d been sitting ever so carefully on opposite ends of the couch. She came to a stop facing the unlit kitchen, her back to Kendall. Taking a deep breath, she braced her hands on the counter for support but didn’t turn as she spoke.
“I’ve been thinking about what you said. You’ve been stuck in my head the whole damn day. I finally get that you liked me…”—she thought about last night’s dinner and kiss—“like me. I don’t know why you never said anything. I can’t figure that part out. I was single. I never slept around in the unit or much outside it. Why two years—”
“Because you flew.” Kendall had come up behind her without her noticing. His voice was barely a whisper. So close she could feel him there now, though he didn’t touch her.
“Because I flew?” But that’s everything she was…had been. “You didn’t clue me in about how you felt, because I flew.”
“Yes.”
She spun to face him so fast that he took a quick step back. “Oh, but now that I can’t fly, now that the sky has been ripped away from me, now it’s okay to kiss me like you want to take me to bed? Well, to hell with you.” She tried to storm away, but he stopped her. He was far more powerful than she was, could have caged her against the counter, done anything, and she couldn’t have stopped him.
All Kendall did was rest his hand lightly on her arm, and suddenly all of her momentum failed her.
“Why?” She couldn’t look up to meet those dark eyes. “Can you at least tell me why?”
He nodded slowly, then led her back to the couch. His hand was strong and warm as he supported her through the still awkward transition from standing to sitting. She wanted to curl her legs under her, but the cool metal creeped her out each time it brushed her other leg.
“It’s not that you flew—”
“But you just said—”
He held up his hand to stop her. His face was unreadable. She might not remember much of their last hour together, but she had remembered watching the mobility of his features. His easy smile, the laugh that started in his eyes long before it reached his lips or his voice. There was something behind his eyes now, a darkness she recognized and now wished she didn’t. Kendall had become her beacon of light somewhere along the way. Two dinners and a kiss hadn’t been what did it.
The flight. The gift of flight, even if it was a simulated one. She couldn’t see where the hope led, but she could feel it lying somewhere just out of reach.
Well, the light had gone out, and now the man sitting across from her was frowning with a seriousness she didn’t recognize, didn’t know he had in him.
“My dad flew Desert Storm.” His voice with thick and slow. “He’s one of the ones who didn’t make it home.”
“I’m so sorry.” She reached out and took his hand. Why hadn’t she known? Because he hadn’t told her, duh! But as she watched how hard it was, she understood that not only hadn’t he told her, he’d never told anyone.
“My mom broke that day.” He stared down at their clasped hands, began massaging her hand as if it weren’t connected to her, just an object to keep himself distracted. “She was great, everything a kid could ask for in a single mom, but she’s never even dated again. ‘No point,’ is all she says to anyone who asks. I swore as a kid that I’d never be with a serving soldier.”
Then he looked up at her. Those deep brown eyes so close and intense. “No one. And I mean no one ever came close to making me break that vow, except you. So I need you to be really sure that you want me in your bed for more than a one-night rehab therapy session. Because to me, it’s a hell of a lot more important than that.”
• • •
Lois stood at the living room window, lit only by the distant field lights that found their way here, for a long time after she sent Kendall away into the cool spring night. She’d sent him with half a pizza and the best kiss of her life, but she’d sent him nonetheless.
“I don’t dare risk hurting you as much as I expect I will,” she’d told him. He was too important, though she was unclear how or when that had happened.
He’d tried to protest that he could take care of his own hurt, but she’d refused.
“Time. Give me some time.” That’s when he’d hit her with that kiss. It hadn’t scorched and burned like last night’s. Instead, it had asked and promised. She had wrapped her leg—her missing leg—behind him to keep him close and neither of them had reacted to that. She’d wanted and needed, but she hadn’t taken. Hadn’t taken him to her bed or taken him on the couch.
Instead, she had shown him the door and, without a word, released him into the night.
From her front window, she could see the airfield lights shining beyond the next set of barracks. Dozens of choppers were parked there, the more specialized ones tucked safely out of sight in hangars. That’s where her heart had been, tucked safely out of sight. The question she couldn’t answer was how safe it would be if it got out.
• • •
For a week, Lois went to the PEB offices to check if there was any information on her paperwork processing. More often than not she met Clara the AW2 advocate for lunch. Clara didn’t push anymore. Instead, as they slowly became friends, she told Lois her own story.
“I was part of Team Lioness. We were temporarily attached to Army and Marine units, meaning we were dropped into combat teams without heavy combat training. Our job was to frisk the women so as not
to violate their religious laws against any man other than their husbands touching them. You tell me how we go in with a gung-ho Marine team and don’t end up in the thick of it.”
“Pixie dust? I hear the Pentagon is making that standard issue now.”
Clara laughed. “Could have used some. I got this one woman cleared of guns, and she had several. But my teammate hadn’t secured this damn big kitchen knife just sitting out in the open. She missed my heart by that much.” She raised her artificial arm. Her prosthetic began just below the shoulder. She’d chosen a cosmetic arm controlled by wires in a harness attached to her opposite shoulder. It was good enough that it would have passed for real at a casual glance, if she hadn’t chosen a short-sleeved blouse to go with it.
Lois could only admire the ease with which Clara moved through the world. But she could never be a paper pusher, nor a hand holder. She was a combat pilot who could no longer fly with her team. The near daily emails they kicked her from the front were both precious and painful. Their lives were going on, and hers had stopped. But they were flying, that was something she’d done for them that they’d never know. Her crew was still up in the air…even if she wasn’t.
Lois saw plenty of Clara, but she didn’t see much of Kendall. She stayed away from the hangar and simulator building. He, in turn, didn’t come calling. It didn’t feel as if he was avoiding her so much as giving her space to think.
Damn him for being decent. It just made her think about him all the more. His compliment, which had rankled at first, had shifted over time. “Didn’t want her while she flew” had shifted into the background. “Had almost made him break his own promise to himself,” shifted forward.
Why had she never hooked up with him? He was funny, handsome, smart, and a damned fine pilot for a civilian. She had high standards, but he flew past all those easily. Also on the plus side, he was a civilian, so no fraternization issues would have come up.
Over the second week, she eventually reached the conclusion that the reason Lois Lang and Kendall Clark had never become an item was that she was as stupid as a brick. Which was about how she’d always ranked Clark Kent for never bedding Lois in the movies.
• • •
Neutral ground again, she was waiting outside the main hangar as he returned from a training flight. She’d been building up her walks, stretching the half mile to the PEB offices out to a mile, then two.
For today, she had taken the risk and left her cane behind. She’d gone back to a skirt again for the first time since their Stanley and Seafort’s date and was relaxing on a bench on the service side of the hangar. The afternoon sun had almost lulled her to sleep by the time he flew back in. Daylight training today.
“Great leg!” He stood in a full flight suit, his helmet under one arm, and the lowering sun lighting him up from behind.
“Which one?”
“I’m an engineer.”
She laughed, she couldn’t help herself. He simply made her feel good about herself. “You done for the day?”
He nodded.
“How about I take you to dinner?”
For an answer all he did was smile.
She’d actually cooked. Nothing fancy, but she’d made the lasagna from scratch, except for the red sauce, which was jarred because life really was too short. The post commissary also had some great baguettes, so she’d snagged one and a bag of salad.
The meal hadn’t been hurried. At first, they were avoiding that she’d propositioned him, and he’d pretty much said he loved her. But soon it fell by the wayside as they each told mom stories and flying tall tales. Much of the evening had passed before a comfortable silence fell between them.
She stood. “I’m not much for romantic gestures,” and she reached out a hand.
Without a word, he rose, scooped her up in his arms over her cry of protest, and carried her into the bedroom. He neither made a point of nor ignored her leg. Undressing each other was a slow, mutual, and nerve-tingling experience.
And still he didn’t address her leg. Not until her skirt was off and little remained—just panties, bra, and prosthesis—did he mention it. He no longer boasted any clothes at all, and she wondered why she had avoided him so long. Kendall’s body wasn’t soldier strong, it was more than that. He had the strength without the overstressed leanness that so often accompanied the military lifestyle. Runs, weight room, constant training made for excellent conditioning and endurance, but the physical stresses showed—even worse after a forward deployment. Kendall’s physique had all the advantages and none of the drawbacks.
“Show me how,” he whispered as he nuzzled her breast through the bra’s fabric.
“Not if it means you’re going to stop doing that.”
He obliged her until long after that bit of clothing no longer hindered his investigations.
She sat up on the edge of the bed. He sat beside her. When she reached for a buckle, it felt as if she was about to expose herself far more than merely removing her clothes.
Sensing her apprehension, he slid his fingers beneath hers and undid the first one. She guided his hand to the second. With a slight shake and a push, it came free.
He knelt before her. This beautiful, naked, gentle man knelt before her, and slid the leg off. Setting it carefully aside, he peeled off one abrasion sock and then the other.
Lois had never in her life been so exposed or felt so vulnerable. And then he kissed the inside of her bare thigh, and the sensation rocketed into her so hard and sharp that she cried out, not knowing if it was pleasure or pain.
Kendall took his time proving that it was indeed pleasure.
• • •
A training schedule order. Lois hadn’t had one of those in a long time. It was simple, clear, and she had no doubt who was behind it.
Simulator #3 – 1700 hours – report to Master Sergeant Jake Hamlin
She wanted to tell Kendall to go to hell. They’d been lovers for a month, and he’d kept asking her if she wanted to go up for a real flight in an actual Hawk. Kept asking until she’d shut him down hard. It was the closest they’d come to a fight; his impossible calm only making her fears all the worse. She’d shut him down so hard that he’d never brought it up again. Which was good because every mention of flying, especially in her beloved Black Hawk, had cut at her like a knife.
She tried to track him down to tell him to go to hell, but obviously he’d guessed that’s what she’d do. His cell phone went straight to voice mail, and if he was anywhere on post, she sure wasn’t finding him.
But the damned training schedule wasn’t a request; it was an order. You didn’t refuse an order, no matter how much it pissed you off. That would get her out of the service far faster than the slow-moving Physical Eval Board process. She’d be out on her ass with a dishonorable discharge mere minutes after her court-martial was done and over.
Fine!
At 1659 hours, U.S. Army Captain Lois Lang was sitting in the “up next” chair in the simulator building wearing her ACU fatigues and carrying her scuffed and scratched helmet with the big red “S” on a field of yellow in an irregular pentagon on the side.
Jake climbed down along with some other trainee he’d just put through the wringer. He sauntered over to her, started to smile, and then thought better of it.
For maybe the first time in her life, he straightened up into rigid attention and gave her a parade ground salute. “We’re ready when you are, Captain.”
She rose and returned the salute as formally as it had been given. “I’m so not, Jake. And I want to apologize beforehand for the civilian blood I’m going to be spilling all over the inside of your nice simulator when I get up there. Clark is toast.”
“Don’t worry, ma’am. Be glad to clean it up. But I would note one thing before you commit murder.”
“Fire away.” She pulled on her helmet and began cinching it down
.
“Listen to him first. He’s as good at what he does as you are at what you do.”
“Did. Past tense, Jake.”
This time he smiled down at her.
“And?”
“Go get him, Superwoman.”
And she would. She climbed the stairs, Jake again riding safety behind her—though she felt far less need for it this time—and settled in just as she would for any training flight.
“What’s the scenario?” She snapped out as a greeting. Nothing said she had to be polite to a civilian, even if he was sharing her bed and made her feel like Venus despite her missing limb.
“You have a choice of two, Captain.” Kendall kept it formal, too. He was never stupid and would know full well just how pissed she was. “We have a standard Jake torture test.”
Jake’s Tortures, as they were known far and wide, were notorious. Not many pilots survived those. The simulator had six major categories of weather and eighteen of failures; some of which had dozens of options. There were technical and moral challenges. Engine fires and very hot targets, copilot bleeding out versus terrorist getting away with it. You never knew what was coming, and there was always something new.
“The second one?”
“It’s one that I designed, Lois. Just for you. Based on a real flight tape.” The tone of his voice got to her. He knew her so well, had gotten past every shield she’d ever had, ever thrown up. Over the last month, he’d convinced her that maybe, just maybe, she could find a way to live in the “new life” without hating it so much. Without having to work every day to find the positive, the upside.
Designed it just for me. In the soft, personal tone that he didn’t use when they had exhausted each other by pushing the bounds of sex to new limits. No, it was that quiet, gentle tone each time she awoke from the nightmare, and he held her and told her everything would be all right.
Damn him!
Way of the Warrior Page 29
