by J. D. Glass
“How is she?” he asked, his voice hushed, his steps quiet as he entered.
“She’ll be all right,” Elaine answered before she touched her lips to Charli’s hand. She let it go reluctantly as she stood to face him as he neared. “A broken rib, some superficial burns. It was the heat and inhalation that really did the damage,” she told him, realizing he probably already knew even as she spoke. “The light sedation’s more for pain management than anything else. You must be Commander Cole Riven,” she said, not needing to read the nameplate below the proud ribbons as she took in the broad uniformed shoulders, the eyes so like his sister’s that creased under the brim of his hat as he stared at the bed, or the lips that quirked the same way Charli’s did.
“And you’re Agent Harper?” he asked as they shook hands, his eyes fixed upon the still form of his sister. “Thank you,” he said quietly. “I just…” He stared at her finally, a frown of concentration creating a deep line in his brow. “I’m sorry—have we met before?”
Elaine quickly reviewed the official possibilities, then the unofficial ones. “No, I don’t believe so,” she told him, even as a likely scenario occurred to her. “I’ll leave you to your visit, Commander,” she said quietly, and walked to the door.
“You’re her coworker, aren’t you,” he stated more than asked as she grasped the handle. Her back stiffened as she realized he knew. “You’re the one in that picture, the surfer she’s friends with. Ann. Anna something, right?”
Well, at least she had guessed the right scenario. She turned back to face him and instead saw that he sat carefully on the foot of the bed, his body between her and Charli. She wondered if he was aware that his body language screamed that he was shielding his sister even as he delicately stroked the hair from her brow before reaching for her hand, then decided that conscious of it or not, it was his absolute right and his oath-sworn duty as Charli’s brother, as an officer.
She took a breath, then let it out slowly. “Yes,” she answered simply. There was nothing else to say, and she waited for his response.
“Does she know?” The words were soft, almost a whisper, as he reached again to smooth the hair that lay raggedly across Charli’s brow.
“I’m not—I don’t know,” she admitted as she stepped back in. “I don’t think so.”
She watched as Commander Riven removed his officer’s cap and placed it on his knee, then ran a hand through the short scrub of hair that was the same color and texture as his sister’s before he twisted his head to see her directly.
“I’m not a stupid man, Agent. As grateful as I am for what you’ve done, you may well have wrecked your career, but instead of kissing brass ass and glad-handing all over Washington,” he shared a brief grin with her, “you’re here. So,” he said as he shifted slightly, “let me try again. Does she know?” His eyes were unblinking as they stared into hers.
Elaine stared back at him, not fully certain if he meant her cover or something else entirely. His eyes, eyes just like Charli’s, did what hers did, conveyed hints of secret knowledge, searched deeply for answers with an assurance they’d be found.
“Commander Riven, I’m not certain I know what you—”
“It’s Cole,” he interrupted, “and please,” he gestured with his free hand to the seat she’d left, “stay. If the gov hasn’t chased you away, I won’t, either.”
She crossed the last few steps. “Thanks,” she told him as she sat once more, and not caring what his opinion was or what he thought he knew, she again curled her fingers through Charli’s.
Their eyes met and Cole gave her the briefest shadow of a grin before returning his gaze to the still form they both watched. Elaine and Cole sat together in concerned companionship the rest of the night, before their respective duties forced them to leave.
This was her first truly free moment since that time, and when she stood in the doorway, she found Charli standing by the false window, staring into the light that simulated a hazy day. Body language told her that Charli was aware of her presence, but she made no gesture of greeting.
“Where exactly are we?” she asked Elaine flatly. The burns on her face and hands had healed nicely, and she no longer needed the medications nor the monitoring she’d been under. In fact, other than the broken rib she’d suffered from flying debris, Charli was, thankfully, physically fine and would be moved to another section of the complex until her job decision was made.
Elaine didn’t know what Charli had been told, but she knew she herself would never lie to her again—there’d be no more equivocation.
“DC—Washington, DC,” Elaine said quietly as she fully entered the room.
“That’s not real sunlight, is it.” It wasn’t a question, it was just another flat statement of fact.
Elaine sighed quietly. Charli refused to look at her. She hated it, but she understood it. “No. It’s not.”
“So where are we?”
She sat carefully on the chair near the bed, the same chair she’d spent those rare free moments in, the same chair she’d held Charli’s hand from, had watched her sleep, had spoken to her and, occasionally, to her brother, during the frighteningly chill silence that Charli had been shrouded within during that critical time after their arrival.
Elaine let her breath out slowly. “We’re four levels belowground—in the Pentagon med bay. All the rooms in this wing are lit that way because it supposedly aids in recovery by maintaining normal circadian rhythms.”
She watched as Charli nodded and absorbed the information. “Below this is what they call techno-wonderland—where you’ve been offered the position with analytics and cryptology.” She didn’t know why she added that, but she did. “I’ll more than likely be working there, too, listening to and decrypting the chatter.”
She saw rather than heard the breath Charli took before she finally turned away from the false daylight and faced her. “Back in Virginia, then,” she said with a small shake of her head. Charli leaned back against the sill, rested her hands along the ledge.
There was a lot implied in that statement, and Elaine now knew what some of it was. It hurt her to hear it, to know she’d been a part—even if it wasn’t her fault, not really—of bringing Charli back to a place she hadn’t wanted to return to, should never have had to go to in the first place.
The thought that filled Elaine’s head began as an annoying insect hum through her brain before it became a burning roar that filled her, sent an unfamiliar scalding mix of anger and shame flowing down her neck, her arms.
The last time Charli had been in Virginia for any length of time had been after she’d been hurt, a core violated beyond seeming repair. This time, she was here, again, because other people had made decisions, had taken actions, that… Anger at the unfairness, anger with herself fired the flame that flowed under her skin.
She had fucked up—and not because Romello had not been caught, not because she hadn’t maintained her cover with the Treas. Charli was here, in this place she didn’t want to be, hurt in ways she shouldn’t have been, because Elaine herself had not been brave enough to tell the Company to use another operative, nor strong enough to tell Charli the things she should have what now seemed like forever ago. She’d tried to play hero, but instead…
Once more, whether Elaine wanted to acknowledge it or not, and her brain insisted that she must, Charli had been betrayed by someone she trusted—and the person she had trusted was—
“And what do I call you?” The words were soft, low, and cut straight through Elaine’s thoughts as she watched Charli. The person she’d gotten so close to, had held so tightly, had revealed the deepest parts of herself to, now held herself a thousand miles away, a distance and disconnect she felt as a cold breeze on her own skin. Elaine did her best to read what she could in what she saw.
The bruises, already made almost invisible by the light touch of makeup, would eventually fade even more, the burns were already more than partially healed, and somehow, Charli had managed to comm
andeer a haircut so that her hair hung in long spikes over her forehead and just past her eyes, shorter than ever at the sides in a way that further highlighted the angle of her cheeks, left on prominent display the sensual curve of her lips. She’d also had some of her things either sent, or more than likely replaced, and the shirt dress she wore fit her perfectly, open just far enough, but not too far, the rich deep hunter green hue of it a perfect contrast to the pale skin it rested against. Even the suede boots she wore, a rich and warm color that matched her eyes and hugged her calves, did nothing to hide her—this was Charli as Elaine had met her, Charli as she’d always known her, her façade intact, secrets once more well hidden. This was Charli as the world saw her: in charge.
“You can still call me Anna if you’d like,” Elaine offered, her voice pitched to match. “It is…it was my grandmother’s name, and Anna is actually my middle name.”
The slightest of quirks lifted the corner of Charli’s lips before it was gone. “It’s really Elaine Harper—Agent Harper, though.”
Elaine nodded again in agreement as tension grew in the room, grew between them, and Elaine stood, shrugging her shoulders, hoping some of the pressure of it would fall from them. It intensified instead.
“Charli, I swear I never…I tried to—” Elaine began as she stepped closer, but Charli interrupted her with a wave that warded her off.
“You tried to tell me, I know. I…I don’t know what I thought, that maybe you didn’t really want to, or to let you know it was okay, it could wait until you did or…” She shook her head, and Elaine followed her instinct and took her hand. Charli’s eyes finally met hers for a moment when she did. “Or that it would end up like this.” The words were low, quiet, barely more than a whisper, but in the clasp of hands the cold of her skin eased, and in that whisper Elaine heard something. She spoke to that.
“Charli,” she began again and once more caught her gaze, “you have to know that you and I”—she held her hand even tighter, trying to communicate through her very skin—“that was real, Char. It was so beautiful, so very special,” she said, repeating her own words and Charli’s, hoping that in the repetition, Charli would not only know that she’d been truly heard, but also that Elaine had not forgotten. “Very special, and very, very real.”
Charli stared down at their hands, lightly stroked Elaine’s palm with her fingertips. She gazed back into Elaine’s eyes. “I know that,” she said quietly, “I just—”
The knock against the frame of the partially opened door and the throat clearing that accompanied it caught both their attention, and Charli gave Elaine’s hand a final squeeze and a small sad smile that disappeared quickly. “I need a little time.”
“Hey there, Charli girl!”
“Cole!”
“I got here as soon as I could get away,” she heard him say, the words but not the visible affection and concern muted as he wrapped his arms around his sister. “Never any halfways with you, are there?” he said against her temple before he kissed it.
“Can we go surfing now?” Charli asked as she returned his hold, and Cole laughed, then said something quietly in her ear.
Elaine did not hear Charli’s response, murmured as it was into the broad uniformed shoulder in their embrace. All she could hear was the deafening pound in her ears, the throb that accompanied the tearing within. Elaine was once more torn. She was happy for Charli, happy and relieved that in the midst of all the confusion, hurt, and things unfamiliar, that here was something, someone, not only familiar but comfortable for her, safe.
But Elaine hurt, too, a hurt that beat and pulsed with the same complete fullness she had worked and wanted, physically held and lo— It was, Elaine thought, a hell of a time to realize that she loved her. She couldn’t tell Charli, not now when she herself had just figured it out, not now when the ghosts that haunted Charli’s head had been brought to frightening life again, and were probably connected to—
“My apologies, Agent,” Cole said as he straightened, partially releasing his sister, “I didn’t realize—”
“That’s quite unnecessary, Commander,” she interrupted, suddenly fully aware that as much as she might know about him and about Charli, or even his easy acceptance of her when they’d first met, she had no real place here. “I quite understand your priorities.”
“Thanks,” he said as he reached for her hand. “I know you do.” The firm handshake and grin were so like Charli’s that she found herself at a loss for words, and she almost missed the quick wink he tossed at her.
Another knock sounded, this time accompanied by a voice and head that appeared past the frame. “Hi, I’m Jim Holloway, and I’m here to—” The young clerk’s face flushed a deep red, highlighted by his sandy hair, when he saw everyone in the room.
Elaine was deaf to his stammered apologies for the interruption, nor did she hear the words spoken between him and Charli as she moved to the door.
She stood there, mute, watched as Charli peered over her shoulder to catch her eyes. Elaine stared into them for a long moment, a silent apology in her own until Charli broke the contact between them and turned away to take the arm her brother offered.
Cole, his relief a visible flash across his face once he had his sister safe on his arm, gave the agent the appropriate and required salute.
“Agent,” he said, and his voice was deep and formal as his hand touched the brim of his cap.
“Commander,” she acknowledged with a nod, then brother and sister followed the clerk out.
She stood alone a moment, the sounds of their footsteps in her ears even as they retreated. And as much as she hurt, hurt in ways she didn’t know she could, Elaine understood, she really did. Old wounds had been touched on, new ones had been made, and Charli… She watched Charli walk away. I need time, she’d said, not good-bye. Elaine felt a growing sense of determination solidify in her chest. She’d gotten through to Charli, had touched the X once before; Elaine was certain she could do it again—she had to, she needed to, and when she did, this time? She wouldn’t let go.
*
About the Author
JD Glass, author of Lambda Literary finalist Punk Like Me, Punk and Zen, Lambda Literary and Ben Franklin Award finalist Red Light, the well-received American Goth, and X, lives in the city of New York with her beloved partner.
When she’s not writing or drawing, she’s the lead singer (as well as alternately guitarist and bassist) in NY’s Life Underwater (myspace.com/lifeunderwateronline and nimbitmusic.com/lifeunderwater), which also keeps her pretty busy.
If she’s not creating something (she swears she’s way too busy to ever be bored), she sleeps. Right.
Works in progress include the graphic presentation of Sakura Gun (trans: Cherry Blossom Warrior)—related to, yet separate from, both the Punk and the Goth series, beginning with Sakura Gun (London), a forty-page origin-story in the anthology Yuri Monogatari 6, the graphic novel Sakura Gun, and a couple o’ few other things with ALC Publishing. Oh, and she’s in the studio, recording a new album.
Further information can be found at www.myspace.com/ jdglass, where she plays virtual DJ, shares blogs, and reviews of all sorts of fun things as well as showing the occasional flash of wit, while tunes can be heard and downloaded at nimbitmusic. com/lifeunderwater. And check out boldstrokesbooks.com and yuricon.org.
Table of Contents
Cover Page
Synopsis
By the Author
Acknowledgments
Dedication
Open Session
The Art of Exploitation
Chasing Rabbits
Code Calling
Fail-Safe
The Walrus
Deeper Than Skin
The Few That Remain
Synchronicity
Binary
Hex
Turtles All the Way Down
Tabula Rasa
Glass Onion
About the Author
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J. D. Glass, X
