Vanguard (25 page)

Michael appearance startled her. His nose was noticeably swollen, and he had the beginnings of a black eye. That was nothing, however, compared to the look on his face. He stood in the doorway for a moment, then came over to sit down on the bed beside her.

“Please,” he said in a low voice, “you should speak first.” She only had one question for him, and she felt sure she knew the answer already.

“Why did you do it?”

He opened his mouth and a flood of explanation came out. How sorry he was, how he’d made the wrong decision and took all responsibility for it. That he’d had a very small window of opportunity in which to fool the Commandant, and that if he’d lost that time arguing with her, it would been gone. That he could not bear to have Sophie in danger again.

She listened silently. She didn’t know what he had told the Commandant, but she gathered it had something to do with the phone call he’d had with Maxwell and a press conference that had been held in New York this morning. Whatever he’d said must have been highly effective since he’d managed to leave Parnaas alive.

None of that mattered. Sophie knew what his motivation had been. Eventually, he ran out of words and fell silent, looking miserable. She waited a moment, then called him on it.

“Bullshit. You did it because you were angry about
this
.” She stabbed her finger at the scar on her forehead. “You could have tried a dozen other options. Instead, you went to the most extreme because you felt that what I’d done made you less of a man.

“What was I supposed to do? Let him cut you, probably killing you in the process? Should I have let Will stand in for you? Or the Rev? Would it have been easier on your manhood if it had been one of them and not me?” Sophie took a shaky breath and tried to regain control.

“A scar on my forehead seemed a small price to pay for your life. But you…you drugged me, violating all the medical ethics in the world because you needed to feel stronger than me. As if fooling a sick woman into taking a pill makes you anything other than a liar and a coward, not to mention a lousy doctor. You asshole!”

The rage that had boiled up in his face as she blasted him was incomparable. She’d never seen Michael this angry before, but she’d also never spoken to him this harshly either. His lips formed a thin, white line, and she could hear a low sound of fury in his chest. If it had been anyone else, she would have feared for her safety by now. Instead, she waited for him to start screaming, her pointed chin held high.

But the shouting never came. The rage slipped away from his face to be replaced by introspection, then confusion. He flushed unexpectedly, then turned away, putting his hand over his face.

“Stop.” She reached for his arm, but he jerked away. “Stop right there. If there is ever to be trust between us, it starts with this. Please do not hide your feelings from me any longer. This is the twenty-first century. Men are allowed to show their emotions. Even Orlisian men.”

He didn’t move for a long moment, then lowered his hand and turned back to her. Sophie could see him cringing in humiliation as a tear splashed down his cheek.

“You are right,” he choked out. “I was so angry. I still am. He cut you, hurt you…because of me.” He let out a sob that sounded like it was being forcibly wrenched from his body. “Orlisia…my country is gone. I could not save it. I could not protect you as I should have –” His voice broke off.

“Michael, please just let it out.” He shook his head, biting his lip so hard that he drew blood. She reached out again and captured one of his hands, tugging on it. Reluctantly, he let her pull him closer until his head rested on her chest. She wrapped her arms around his stiff frame, feeling his body shaking against her.

“I am so sorry,” he gasped. “Please,
mana mila
, tell me you still love me.”

“I will always love you. Even when I am this angry at you, I still love you.”

Something seemed to let go in Michael’s body, and she felt hot tears soaking into her gown.

A short while later, she nudged him. “We’ve only a few more minutes before Anjali returns. I need to say some more things.” He sat up and rubbed his eyes with the backs of his hands, looking like a little child. “I accept your apology with one condition.”

“Which is?”

“When we get back to New York, you need to talk to someone. Will and I work with a therapist who specializes in professions that involve trauma. If he’s not right for you, he can refer you to someone else.” He didn’t say anything. “You’ve had a very bad time of it these last six months, and perhaps this has interfered with your judgment.”

He sat there, thinking. He wasn’t one to talk about feelings, and the thought of him in therapy was a bit of a stretch, even for Sophie.

“If it is a condition for us to stay together, then I will do it,” he finally said.

“It is a condition. And,” she added in deadly earnest, “if you ever disrespect me in this way or any other again, our relationship is over.” He nodded and took one of her hands in his.

“Who punched you?” she asked.

“Anjali. She is very strong for someone so small.” He looked affronted for a moment. “Also, it was a sucker punch.”

They sat together silently until Anjali came into the infirmary. Sevastian stopped just outside.

“Return to your room,” she said to Michael, the hostility in her voice unabated. For a minute, Sophie thought he would defy her. Instead, he squeezed Sophie’s hand, gave her a light kiss on the cheek and slid off the bed.

“Thank you,
mana mila
. May I see you tomorrow?”

“Yes. I will come to see you when I am ready.”

He nodded and left the infirmary, Sevastian following behind him.

She looked at Anjali. “A guard? Is that necessary?” Her friend didn’t answer. “Where have you put him for the night?”

“Your quarters,” she said. “I have nowhere else to put him. Don’t even think about going to him in the night. I’m putting a guard on your door, too.” Anjali sat down on the edge of the bed. “You forgave him.” Her tone was disapproving.

“Yes. On the agreement that he seek counseling when he returns to the US. What he did was wrong, and it’ll be a long time before we can put this behind us. But I wonder if he’s showing early signs of post-traumatic stress disorder.”

Anjali frowned, pondering that. “Possibly,” she conceded. “Or maybe he’s just an arrogant, pig-headed asshole.”

“That’s a disease a lot of people suffer from.” Sophie lay back against the pillows, exhausted. “And I may have called him that myself.”

Anjali squeezed Sophie’s hand. “I’m trying to look out for you. I know how much you love him, how much he loves you. But he’s volatile. You’ve always told me he was, but I didn’t really understand until now. So difficult, so stubborn, so totally convicted that his way is the right one.”

“Sound like anyone else you know?”

“Yeah.” Anjali smiled sadly. “Sounds just like my best friend. Who needs to get more sleep if she wants to be up and around tomorrow.” Anjali kissed Sophie’s forehead, turned off the lights, and whispered goodnight.

Chapter 16

Michael returned to his room after splashing cold water on his face. He felt humiliated, knowing that the Soviet soldier walking behind him had seen him cry like a girl.

He hated crying. His mother cried, of course. Women cried; that was acceptable. His father cried occasionally, too. He remembered tears running down Maxwell’s face as he ran to greet Signe and Michael when they’d cleared immigration at JFK the day they had finally come to New York. But his father was American, and American men behaved differently. Michael had never seen an Orlisian man cry, and his mother had always impressed upon him how important it was to behave like an Orlisian man from the time he was very small.

He’d not been in his room more than ten minutes, sitting on the edge of the bed and staring at the floor, when a knock came at the door.

“Mind if I come in?” He looked up in surprise to see Will Temple leaning on the doorframe. Michael waved him in. “Rough day, huh? I suppose my wife gave you that busted nose. Sorry about that.”

“It is not broken, only bruised,” he said defensively. “So many women in your country have fighting skills, I am discovering.”

“Only the good ones.” Michael couldn’t help but smile at that. “There, I knew I could make you smile. You’re such a sullen bastard. You should smile more often.”

He felt he should be angry at such a statement, but Will was impossible to dislike. “Perhaps,” Michael conceded. Then he remembered something. “I borrowed some of your clothing today. I have placed them over there.” He gestured to the chair where Will’s clothes were neatly stacked.

Will frowned. “Yeah, I noticed. Listen, you can borrow just about anything you want, but never touch my cowboy boots again. Those things are sacred to me.”

“I apologize and will not wear them again. In fact, I found them quite uncomfortable.”

Will grinned, then produced a pack of playing cards from his vest pocket. “Want to play cards?”

Michael stared at the deck blankly, wondering why Will was offering to do this.

“Look, I’ve been hearing about you for years. Just spent the last several months of my life helping Sophie look for you. I feel like I already know you better than I should. We may as well start catching up.”

Michael sat back, surprised at Will’s openness. Over the years, he had occasionally – perhaps more than occasionally – felt jealous when Sophie talked about her boss in worshipful tones. He understood now why Sophie was so drawn to Will; the man was simply decent.

Solitary and mistrusting by nature, Michael’s first instinct was to send this man away. But Will was a big part of Sophie’s life, and if Michael was ever to take his rightful place in her world, this was where it began.

“I would like that.” He pulled the bedside table over between them. “But I do not know very many card games.”

“I’ll teach you.”

~~ - ~~

February 22, 2014

Sophie awoke to a silent compound. Considering she’d spent the best part of the previous day unconscious, she’d expected to sleep poorly through the night. Instead, she’d slept well and woken shockingly late at 11 a.m. Then again, she probably hadn’t had a decent night’s sleep in six months.

Kathy, the nurse who had helped look after Michael when he was first brought in, brought her some food and took out Sophie’s IV. Sophie took a careful walk around the infirmary with the nurse’s assistance, the first time in nearly twenty-four hours she’d been on her feet.

This took her to 12:30. Another hour and a half in her private prison. Sophie dutifully peed into a cup for Kathy, allowed the nurse to check her vitals, and took her required meds. Paced around the room a bit more. 12:45. She turned on her laptop and plowed through a backlog of emails. Made a to-do list. Checked flights back to New York for availability. 1:15.

She could feel Michael’s presence at the other end of the building as clearly as she could feel the laptop under her fingers. It tugged at her, like they were attached by an invisible string. She needed to be with him, needed
him
. Difficult, angry, messed-up man that he was.

In the corner, she found her overnight bag from their ill-fated trip to Kaliningrad. She dug through it, looking for her shower things and a toothbrush. She turned to Kathy, who didn’t even look up from her paperwork.

“Not until 2 p.m., Sophie. Dr. Shah made me promise.”

Sophie sulked on the bed until 1:45, then started pacing again. She was driving Kathy and Sergei, who was at the door, crazy.
Tough shit.

At 2 p.m., she cleared her throat. Kathy gave Sergei the thumbs up. He smiled and let her fly out of the room down the hall. She took a long shower, not caring if she used every drop of hot water on the compound. Shaved, plucked, and spruced up as best she could. With a deep breath, she pulled on the white lingerie Anjali had given her earlier in the week. She gasped as the silky fabric slid over her skin. The garment fit a little loosely on her after all the weight she’d lost from the dysentery, but it still looked nice.

She peeked out to see if the hallway was clear, then ran on tiptoes along the cold floor to her old quarters. She nudged open the partly closed door. Her heart flew in her chest, and she suddenly wondered if she’d be welcome after last night’s drama. But it was too late to worry about that. Michael, who had been standing with his back to the door, looking at something on her desk, had turned to see who was there.

~~ - ~~

Michael could not take his eyes off her. He stood, his mouth hanging open and his eyes wide. “
Mana mila
,” he croaked, “you look…I…uh…” He could see a smile forming at the corner of Sophie’s mouth as he tried to make a coherent sentence in any of his languages.

“May I come in?” He nodded. Sophie slipped inside, closed the door and locked it. The click sounded unusually loud. They were in a room with a bed and a door. And a lock. Neither of them was suffering from a life-threatening illness anymore.