"Running the Line"
June 21, 2008 Jaime's Place, Virginia 0200 hours Paige let herself into Jaime's house and placed the stolen keys back on the small hallway table. The kitchen light was still on and she could see the television light flickering from the living room. She stood for a moment and listened. Except for the soft murmur of the tv it was quiet. She put her purse back in the kitchen on the counter and moved into the living room where Jaime was sleeping soundly. She took off her shoes lifted his arm and lay down nestled against him. "Jaime," she said softly and nudged him. He made a soft sound but didn't move. He would be asleep for a few more hours so she sighed and pulled the blanket down from the back rest. She put it over herself and partially over him before closing her eyes. She concentrated on the beating of his heart remembering how she had listened to it just the same way after that fateful day in New York City when he had been shot and almost died. Up until that point it had been the worst mission she'd been on. Then there was California. No mission, no matter how horrible including her own death would compare to that week of living hell. Her mind had been tortured as badly as her body. Her emotions had been twisted and cut and shredded over and over. She shuddered just thinking about it, just remembering. But it was over. Finally. She had ended it tonight. The old man would never hurt her again. Never hurt Jaime again. Never hurt Saf again. He would never hurt anyone ever again. Ever. She had made the world a safer place tonight she tried to convince herself. She had taken out one of the bad guys. One of the really bad guys. Even if she didn't think her place in the world was as simple as good guys and bad guys...the old man was the epitome of evil and this one instance, just this once, she wanted it to be ok. But it wasn't ok. Not really. Why did she still feel...something? The deed was done and all that was left was something dark and jagged pressed inside of her like a piece of glass and nothing she could do about it. So, why did she feel bad? How she envied the old man! His capacity to perform unspeakable acts without a grain of remorse was admirable. Admirable in the way a lion maimed a helpless deer or a praying mantis ate its mate. The act had left its mark on her. It was as deep as it was fresh and though the bleeding would eventually stop there was going to be a scar...just one more to add to her growing collection. When you were making the world a safer place, when you carried that weight on your shoulders, when you were taking out the bad guys...you were gonna get a few marks. So be it. She let her mind wander, no longer able to control it, the fatigue and stress taking its part. She had to be ready for when Jaime woke up. She had to be ready for the next part of the plan. Another performance. Another mark. 0400 hours "What?" she mumbled to the nudging and his voice. "You awake?" he mumbled. "Now I..." she paused. "Now you what?" "God I feel like I got run over by a truck." She sat up pushing the blanket aside and holding her head. "My head is freakin pounding." One thing about being a medic and good with meds, you know the aftereffects. "Mine, too. I feel like shit. We just fell asleep out here?" he looked confused. Once again the guilt rattled around as she looked at him. "Apparently. You have any Aleve or Tylenol or something?" "Yeah," he said rubbing his head, "in the bathroom. You think the beer was bad?" "We were both drinking it," she shrugged getting up. She stopped herself holding her head again. "You alright?" he asked getting up quickly. "Yeah, just got up too fast, I'm ok," she smiled weakly at him. "I'll get them," he said helping her sit back down. He returned in less than a minute with a bottle of water. "I guess it was good beer then?" he asked sarcastically. "I dunno," she said taking the offered blue pills, "I don't feel nauseous...just like...hungover. Like I drank way too much." "Yeah, me too," he said taking his own. "Alright, we'll get some sleep and see how the morning goes," she said smiling at him. "I'm sorry, Paige," he said taking her hand. "Don't be retarded, it's not your fault. Though you probably shouldn't have made me chug that last one," she squeezed his hand. "Yeah, ok, let's go," he said standing and helping her up. They went into the bedroom, undressed, and got into bed. Jaime was asleep immediately and Paige lay there with her arm over him. Her fingers traced over the familiar flesh feeling for the scar that evidenced that day in the city. She listened to him breathe as the room lightened softly as the sun rose... Return