As honed in as he was on Brandon, it was impossible to miss the soul wrenching sound of Sara starting to cry or Anne’s horrified gasps. He had a feeling he would be attending a complete lecture series about recklessness—from all three of them.
When it was over, Jeremy quietly closed the laptop with a soft, ominous click. “What did you show them, Arystair, when you took your shirt off?”
Rys had hoped that the camera angle wouldn’t catch that subtle movement. Nuts! “It was my battle scars, a dose of mute testimony to back up my claim.”
“I saw the looks on their faces, Arystair. Those boys were terrified by whatever it was you showed them.” Jeremy’s face could have been carved from stone.
If it had only been the Admiral in the room, Rys wouldn’t have hesitated. But he remembered how Sara had reacted to the inconsequential scar near his eye. Anne hadn’t had a much better reaction, when she noticed it. The chest…would be worse, a whole lot worse.
Feeling suddenly cornered, he shot a look of desperation at Anne, willing her to leave the room, or at least look away. “Anne?”
Tears were standing in her eyes, but her chin was set in a stubborn line that he knew all too well. “I want to know, too.”
Anne could probably take it. He was not so sure about Sara. Running a hand roughly through his hair, he blew out a frustrated breath, and squared up his shoulders as he reached for his buttons. “All right then, but I want all three of you to keep in mind that I am fine. There’s nothing wrong with me. These are just scars; I don’t feel any discomfort from them. There is nothing to worry about.”
“That disclaimer of yours is not helping us to feel any better, Rys,” Anne gritted out. “Just lose the shirt.”
He gave up. If Sara did faint, he was certain that Jeremy was close enough to catch her before she hit the floor. With no other recourse left to him, he complied, unbuttoned the shirt and took it off.
Jeremy’s was by far the calmest reaction. He took one long look and just covered his eyes with his hand, having seen enough. Sara didn’t faint as he feared, but she turned away and started sobbing into her hands.
Anne…Anne’s face was so stricken that he felt his heart constrict in his chest. He quickly crossed the room to her, lifting her chin so that she had to look into his eyes. “Anne, take deep breaths. This is just a physical memory, all right? It doesn’t hurt me!”
“Rys, those are
bullet holes
in you!” she protested, tears finally slipping down her cheeks.
“One or two,” he admitted.
More like six or seven.
“But I had great doctors. Honest, I’m fine. It just looks a little busy.”
“I can certainly understand why it rattled them so badly, and shocked them into backing off.” Jeremy’s tone was black and hollow. “It certainly would have taken more than one bullet to stop you, wouldn’t it?”
“Jeremy, don’t even say that!” Sara wailed, fighting for control. “I don’t want that poor boy to ever be shot again—especially not by my own son.”
“I couldn’t agree more,” Jeremy growled behind clenched teeth, his eyes drilling into Brandon.
Rys decided slipping his shirt back on would help calm everyone down. He quickly dove back into it, keeping a wary eye on his best friend as he did so. There was definitely another lecture about weapons and self-preservation in the making behind her eyes.
Jeremy was shaking with the rage he was fighting to contain, his expression like an ominous thunderhead spiking up about forty thousand feet. “Miss Dorian, I assume you found Rys on the road after all this happened?”
“Yes, I did,” she confirmed.
“Thank the Guardians for that,” Sara whispered. “Otherwise he might still be wandering out there alone, and we wouldn’t know it.”
“That’s true,” Jeremy agreed. The look he turned on his son made Brandon shrink back into the couch, as if he was trying to disappear. “Life is going to be a little kinder to you, Brandon, because of Miss Dorian. Knowing that Arystair is safe is the only thing that is keeping me from
flaying you alive.”
“Jeremy, before you start, I think we need to call the other parents of those boys.” Sara wiped her face dry with a tissue. “They should be aware of what happened tonight, so they can take steps too.”
It took the Admiral a moment to regain his control, and shift his focus. “Yes, of course, you’re right, Sara. Arystair.”
Rys jerked his attention back to the Admiral. “Sir?”
“We have a lot to straighten out here tonight. After I’m done with him, Brandon might well attempt to murder you in your sleep. Can you stay with one of your Lieutenants, just for tonight? Being threatened with death once is more than enough for one day.”
“He will stay with me,” Anne declared firmly, cutting him off.
Normally Rys wouldn’t have argued with that, but he still had this firm conviction that she was going to read him the riot act once they were out of ear shot. He would rather face Sergeant Barrett. “I don’t…”
Anne’s eyes cut to him, like a laser carving ice. “You’re staying with me.”
Rys knew when he was beaten. “Yes ma’am.”
“And if you ‘ma’am’ me one more time, I will leave a
lasting
reminder not to do it again.”
Rys figured a hasty retreat was definitely in order; discretion was indeed the better part of valor. “I’ll go pack.”
“Good idea.” Anne gave Brandon a look that could only be described as lethal. If her eyes were weapons, Brandon would be dead many times over. “I would like to have a chat with Brandon while you do that.”
Despite what happened tonight, Rys could almost feel sorry for the kid. Anne was as dangerous as a large wounded animal when she felt one of hers had been wronged.
Rys had no idea what she said, but by the time that he thundered back down the stairs a mere five minutes later, Brandon appeared to have shrunk in stature, and was cowering behind a huge couch pillow. Mental note to self: stay on this woman’s good side at all costs.
Anne looked up when she heard him, and nodded. “Let’s go.”
Rys had no intention of arguing, and trailed her out the door.
It was quiet, very quiet in the car. Actually, the silence was so profound that it was loud. He kept darting nervous looks in her direction, but Anne could have morphed into stone, for all the expression she was displaying.
When you don’t know what the enemy is up to,
Sergeant Barrett always pounded into them,
shut up, keep your eyes open, and wait.
Anne wasn’t the enemy by any stretch of the imagination, but she was definitely angry. An angry woman was one of the most dangerous creatures anywhere. They were unpredictable, and the lengths they would go to express their anger was beyond comprehension.
Rys steeled his nerves, and just shut up and waited for the opening volley.
“Rys.” That simple syllable was as thunderous as cannon fire.
He swallowed involuntarily. “Yes?”
“Why didn’t you call for backup?”
I was desperately hoping she wouldn’t think to ask me that question.
“I did not believe anyone could get there fast enough to make a difference,” he answered. It was the truth, for the most part.
She frowned slightly as she considered his words, but didn’t respond, at least not immediately. “Why didn’t you call anyone
after
it happened?”
“I was undecided if I should call someone, and who to call if I did. I was in the process of trying to figure out the best way to approach the situation when you showed up.”
That was not the answer she wanted to hear. “Rys, in this circumstance you should have called someone,
anyone,
all right? You most certainly should have called me, if you weren’t sure of what to do.”
“I will remember that next time,” he assured her, with honest sincerity.
“There isn’t going to be a next time.” The glare she shot him could have melted the hull of a deep space cruiser with one blast. “Because you’re going to avoid situations like this in the future, aren’t you?”
“I will certainly make every effort.”
“Effort,” she repeated in a rolling grumble. “Guardians! You need a keeper,” she stated flatly.
“Are you volunteering?” he teased, hoping he saw an opening to defuse their conversation.
“I’m not kidding, Rys.”
“Neither was I.” There, he had said it; the ball was squarely in her court.
She pulled up into her driveway, smoothly transiting into the garage with the ease of long practice. When the car was parked and turned off, she turned to face him. “
Will
you allow me to watch out for you? I depend on you so much, for so many things I can’t even name off hand, but you never let me return the favor.”
Rys could not believe what he was hearing. “Anne, are you serious?! I can’t begin to list all of the ways that you’ve helped me since we met. It’s because of you that I’ve found my center again, that I’ve learned how to cope with this culture. How can it be possible that you don’t see the influence you have already had on me?”
Her mouth opened, as if she wanted to say something, but no sound came out.
“Anne,” he said in clear exasperation. “What do you call what you’re doing right now, if not trying to help me?”
“Um, keeping you away from Brandon?” she responded slowly, clearly not wanting to concede any points.
This amused him a little. Just who was protecting whom? “Well, that’s one perspective. I think—”
The door entering the house from the garage opened, and a familiar, lithe red headed figure appeared in the doorway. “Anne, are you home?”
Anne got out of the car. Rys followed her lead and got out as well, slinging his backpack onto one shoulder as he did.
“Oh, Rys, you’re with Anne too.” Rosalita looked back and forth between them, taking in the backpack, surmising something was up.
“There’s…a
problem
at the Bloch house,” Anne explained in stiff tones. “Rys is going to be staying here with us tonight. I’m not sure how long it’s going to take to resolve the problem.”
“Oh dear, is it serious?”
There’s was no trace of humor in Anne’s smile. “Yes, very serious.”
Rosalita was an astute woman. She knew when to stop asking questions. “The guest room is ready. Are either of you hungry?”
“No, we’re fine,” Rys assured her.
Rosalita gave them a nod and quickly doubled back into the house.
Rys didn’t think Rosita’s interruption had ended the conversation with Anne. She didn’t let things go that easily. There was something else bothering her, and he wanted it out of the way before he actually went into the house. “What else is bothering you?” he probed quietly.
“Your chest.” She took in a deep, steadying breath. “I realize now that you’ve taken great pains to never let me see you without a shirt on. Even when we were swimming together. Why? Did you think I would be repulsed or something?”
“Or something,” he admitted. “It unnerved you and Sara to just know about the eye. I knew that your reaction to my chest would be a lot worse. I wanted…to spare you that, I guess. I hate seeing you two cry over me.”
“I want to know the good and the bad, Rys.” Her voice was painfully level, with what effort he could not guess. “The only reason those scars bother me is because they make me realize just how many times I almost lost you before I even had the chance to meet you. That I can handle. What I don’t like is that you feel you have to keep things from me, that I’m too delicate to cope with the darker side of your life.”
Rys wanted to retort that he didn’t think that at all…but that wasn’t entirely true. If it had been, he’d never have hesitated in disclosing the full truth to begin with. “I think it was sheer reflex, really.” He spread both palms up in a rueful manner. “I know you better than that, Anne. It’s just that, when I know something is going to hurt you, my first instinct is to protect instead of disclose.”
“Sometimes the only way to protect someone is to disclose the full truth. If you had told me everything, giving me more of a chance to get used to the idea before tonight, I could have handled it much better.”
She could very well be right. Rys wasn’t entirely sold on it, but he had to admit that it would have at least been more courteous to tell her in a more private setting first. It was like having a map of the terrain before actually doing maneuvers on it. “Darn.”
“What?”
“I did to you what I hated being done to me during the war. I only gave you half the information you needed before a major conflict.” Put into those terms, and he felt like an absolute heel. “Sorry.”
“The light is dawning,” she murmured to herself, able to truly smile for the first time tonight. “Perhaps I will be able to forgive you in this life after all, Rys.”
He could see by the relieved smile on her face that she thought the conversation over. Anne thought she knew everything that she needed to know.
She didn’t.
Rys raged an internal battle for a moment. He could leave things as they were — let her think that the cover story was the true story. But with her clearance, he could actually tell her. Be honest with yourself, he ordered in exasperation. You don’t want to keep this secret from her and get in trouble about it later.
His superiors wanted this mission kept on the down low, but no one had ever ordered him to keep it secret from someone who had the clearance. Besides, Anne knew Bijordan and Novan society much better than he did. She would be able to pick up on cultural vibes that he might miss.
He ran that justification through his head again and nodded in satisfaction. Yeah, that sounded like a good enough excuse to him.
“Anne.” He squared his shoulders and faced her directly. Her demeanor changed, her attention sharpening, locking eyes with him as he spoke. “There’s something else I haven’t told you.”
She accepted this with a slow nod. “Do I need to be sitting down?”
His mouth twitched up in a brief, rueful smile. “Probably.”
Turning, she retreated to the indoor wooden steps leading up into the house. Sinking onto the second step, she laced her fingers together before looking back up at him. “Alright. I’m braced.”