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Full Story: Hearts of Darkness (w. ShadowOfDesire)

As Jack gently worked on Miranda’s other hand he again listened to her as she talked; then she asked him a question and he looked up at her with a smile. “I’m glad you’re enjoying this. But as far as other massages I might have given go, well … I don’t kiss and tell.” Jack paused before he added “The only ... massage that really matters to me is the one I’m giving right now.”

Jack looked back down at Miranda’s fingers as he continued caressing them, and also started talking to her quite casually. “You know, you say you like plans and don’t like surprises. And also that you like being in control. I believe you about all that, up to a point. I mean, who knows you like you, right?” After another short pause Jack continued on. “But the plan for tonight was a party, not sitting in some truck. And I told you I was going to warm up your hand, but then surprised you with a little massage. And who’s essentially in control of your hand right now, me or you? But despite all that, you still seem to be enjoying yourself just fine. Something to think about.” Just like before, as Jack finished up he ran his fingertips lightly over the scar on Miranda’s wrist before setting her hand lightly back in her lap. Then he looked up at her and grinned.

“But I tell you what, how about I meet you half-way. I’m inclined to spring another little surprise on you, and normally I’d just do it and let my natural armor protect me from any … consequences. But since you had a rough start to your night, I’ll spoil the surprise a little by saying it’s nothing crazy, will help warm up another part of your body, and is going to happen in five seconds unless you say something.” Then Jack held up a hand, wiggled all five fingers a few times, and began folding them down quite a bit faster than one per second …
 
"Everything that happened after that stupid German doused me with pool water has been my decision," she pointed out. "They weren't surprises. They were just consequences, and I made the decision to follow through with them. Even giving you my hand. I could take it back if I wanted. Not that I particularly want to," she added slyly. She certainly wasn't going to stop the massage in progress. It felt wonderful on her abused hands.

His next offer made her blink, however. As he began his countdown, she tensed. "What... what are you doing? I told you that I don't like surprises. I'm warm enough already and don't need anything else..." She trailed off as only one finger was left hanging and then disappeared into his fist.

He'd note, of course, that she hadn't ever really told him not to do whatever he was going to do. She could have simply said stop at any point, but she hadn't. Though she didn't want to admit to herself, she was curious as to what Jack had in mind, especially if it was something that might get him slapped.
 
When Jack’s precision timer hit zero his left hand slipped out to caress the back of Miranda’s slim neck, just as he’d done at the restaurant. Her skin seemed as smooth as it had then but felt noticeably cooler, probably because of all the damp hair that had been piled atop it. Jack also sensed Miranda’s locks resting more heavily against the back of his hand, and not for the first time wondered about gals with long hair; sure it looked absolutely great, but where did they find the time to take care of it all?

Jack leaned in towards Miranda as he’d also done at the restaurant but instead of brushing against her cheek, he touched his lips to hers. It was a short, sweet little kiss, like you might see between two middle-schoolers behind the bleachers before they walked home. And just like in middle-school, Jack thought the kiss was a little awkward; Miranda smelled like chlorinated pool water, just like he did and she tasted a bit like samosas and beer, as did he. But he still thought her full lips were very soft, and warm, and sweet. But the best thing as far as Jack was concerned, was when he felt how slick and glossy Miranda’s lips were as well. Intellectually he knew that just meant she was wearing some sort of lip gloss he hadn’t noticed before, but quite irrationally he was still very pleased by the discovery; it seemed as if he’d just come upon some intimate detail about Miranda’s femininity, that only he would be privy to that night. That put a big, goofy smile on Jack’s face.

Since he’d promised Miranda nothing crazy, Jack reluctantly broke the kiss after a few seconds and simply touched his forehead against hers as his fingers began massaging the back of her neck. Miranda seemed awfully tense and Jack would have happily worked on her muscles for a lot longer, but he remembered his promise and broke even that contact after a few more seconds; before he did, all he softly said was “That was nice.”

As Jack sat back the goofy smile on his face quickly morphed into the more usual cocky grin. And in a more normal tone he went on to say “Here, I’ll make it easy for you, now that you've got some control back.” He turned his face a bit, so that he was looking at one of Miranda’s ears while he presented his cheek to her, and tapped on that cheek as he added “You’re right handed, right?” While Jack sat and waited to see if Miranda was going to slap him, his eyes were inexorably drawn to her earring and he couldn't help but wonder what it’d be like to … play with the small, sensitive nub of flesh that it pierced …
 
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"It's not exactly effective when you know it's coming," Miranda said dryly. Her palm did come into contact with his cheek, but only to caress and run her fingers through his beard. "I'd forgotten what it felt like to kiss a man with facial hair," she said quietly, lost for a moment in memory.

Her dark eyes shifted to catch his as her fingers curled around the scruff at his chin, giving it a sharp tug. With her control returned, she made her first demand. "Now kiss me properly, like you mean it, and don't hold back." It was a bold request coming from the frost queen, and not one she'd ever imagine making of a man like Jack. His first kiss, while mostly innocent, had sparked the flame within her belly that had been long extinguished. His promise to warm her held true. There was a distinct warmth growing from her stomach that crept down between her thighs. That was also a sensation she'd not felt for quite some time, and she wanted more of it.

Throwing all her usual propriety to the wind, she didn't wait for him to take the lead. Instead, she shifted to straddle his lap and took his face in her hands, loosing all the years of buried passion into the deepest of kisses. It certainly wasn't innocent, for her lips parted almost instantly and her tongue sought to enter his mouth to twine with his, tasting all that he'd savored in their first kiss. Beyond the beer and savory, there was an underlying sweetness of orange juice mingled with the lip gloss he'd already discovered. This close, he could also smell her lingering perfume and shampoo, both a faint undertone to the scent of chlorine, but the floral scent was there nonetheless.

Her body wasn't still, either. A slow circular motion ground her groin against his, sparking flames within them both. Her hands left his face after a moment, one to tangle in his wet hair and the other to dig into the muscles of his back. She was needy and that wanting overrode her better judgement. It was foolish to lead him into a relationship that, at its very core, was a terrible idea for them both, but reason had long since given way to emotion. It was a dangerous line to walk, but in that moment, she didn't much care.

The icicle was beginning to melt... if only just a little.
 
As the Doc went a little nuts, Jack mentally laughed and thought “Well, that’s a pleasant surprise.” Then he started to improvise, adapt and … well, not overcome exactly, but more steer Miranda in the direction it was painfully obvious she needed to go.

Jack took a moment to just enjoy the passionate second kiss Miranda had favored him with; this time he could taste the sweet tang of orange juice and smell a hint of flowers, which made it even better than the first one. Then he reached up, softly cupped her beautiful face in his hands and started exploring her lips with the tip of his tongue; they felt even warmer and slicker than before, and Jack sucked and nibbled on Miranda’s full lower lip for a bit, as if it was a lusciously ripe slice of fruit. But Jack needed more than just Miranda’s lips, so he pushed his warm, thick tongue between them so that he could start exploring the moistness of her pretty little mouth; his tongue happily played with hers, and then ran across her smooth, sharp teeth as well.

Jack finally broke the kiss, put his hands on Miranda’s shoulders and gently pushed her back just a little; as he looked into her beautiful brown eyes, he could clearly see the need she was filled with. “Forget wet t-shirt contests, you could definitely be a professional lap dancer. But we don’t have a lot of time for this dance; we don’t want someone walking by to see Doctor Blake grinding away on some guy in a pickup after all. So you just keep moving those hips any way you like and let me take care of the rest …”

Without waiting for an answer Jack gently pulled Miranda forward a bit, reached behind her and unzipped her jumpsuit. Then he pulled the garment down over her smooth shoulders and upper arms, but when it was just below her bosom and still around her elbows, he left it there and pulled back on it a bit, rather neatly binding her toned arms to her slim torso. With his free hand Jack took hold of Miranda’s chin, gently wiggled it a little bit and with a grin went on to say “Good girls do as they’re told and are rewarded for it. Remember, you only get to move your hips.”

The fingers of Jack’s free hand traced lightly down over Miranda’s throat and upper chest; her body suddenly felt very warm to him and he had to imagine what he was feeling was the flush of her arousal. Then, when his fingertips roamed out over both her slim collarbones, Jack kept going and slipped the straps of Miranda’s bra down over her arms, further tangling them, at least symbolically.

Jack’s fingers returned to the center of Miranda’s chest and traveled down her sternum until they reached the band of her bra. From there they roamed outwards, tracing the undersides of her pert breasts through the thin material that still concealed them. Jack could have spent all night teasing Miranda this way, but he thought she might be close and also really didn’t want her to get caught (“God, she’d be mortified” he thought) so after only a few short caresses Jack peeled Miranda’s bra away, leaving her breasts free and exposed. Jack thought they looked beautiful and he took a second to admire the darker, swollen nipples as well as the little bumps on Miranda’s areolae. Jack couldn’t see them quite as well as he would have liked though, so he slipped his free hand behind her back, took gentle hold of her long, damp hair and tugged lightly, forcing her to arch her back and present her breasts to him; “That’s better” he thought.

The last thing Jack said was “Good girl, keep moving those hips for me” before he lowered his mouth to Miranda’s chest and began tenderly licking and sucking her sensitive nipples; he thought that was a lot more fun than playing with her earlobes ever could have been. While he teased Miranda’s breasts with his lips and tongue Jack started grinding his own hips upward, pushing his now rock hard manhood into her. Then an idea came to Jack and he decided to … experiment a bit, to see if something else might help push Miranda over the edge she so desperately needed to plummet from; using his teeth, Jack bit gently down on one of her nipples, just for a second …
 
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His kiss was heavenly and Miranda found herself melting against him as his tongue invaded and explored. Her eyes closed almost automatically, shutting off the superficial sense to better concentrate on others -- the pressure of his lips against her own, the way his tongue stroked hers, the slight suction created as they tangled. She threw herself into the kiss, desperately needing it to drown out the revenants that haunted her. It seemed to work, for she could only think of Jack's ravenous hunger matching her own and the feel of his whiskers tickling her skin.

When they finally broke, she was flushed from the excitement and had to gasp for air, breasts heaving as she drew in a deep breath. His words brought her back to reality, reminding her of how foolish she'd been and how horrified she'd be if she was discovered in such a compromising position. She'd never be able to look her colleagues in the eye again. Her head tilted in confusion when he made his offer, a quick protest springing to her lips as he went in search of her zipper.

"What... what are you doing? I... just asked for a kiss. We shouldn't be doing..." Those words quickly cut off as he pulled her top down to pin her arms in place and began to caress her bare skin. His fingers felt electric against her skin and left a heated trail in their wake that made her shiver. She bit back a moan as he teased her breasts, but baring them brought another protest to her lips that quickly died as his mouth found her nipple. Long hair trapped by his grip, her slender form arched like a taut bowstring that threatened to snap at any moment. Her hips ground against his rhythmically, and she was unable to stop the low groan that rose in her throat as she felt his erection pressing against despite the layers of cloth between them.

It was a struggle to keep from reaching for him. The simple restriction was unnatural and strange. Her arms and hands were her primary tools and now felt somewhat useless as she knew not where to put them. They finally settled for gripping the waistband of his pants, which was likely well against his rules, but Miranda didn't much care for being a 'good girl' at that moment. He'd offered a release and she was hell bent on claiming it.

The warmth at her nipples was delicious and furthered her growing arousal as each curl of his tongue or draw of his lips sent tiny little electric shocks rushing to the growing wetness between her thighs. Finding the perfect angle to pleasure herself on his raging cock, she closed her eyes and simply gave in, letting go of her worries and cares in her quest for sensation long denied. Another, sharper sensation blaze through her as his teeth clamped down on her hardened nipple, which elicited a very un-Miranda-like squeal from the doctor. The pain was momentary and heightened the pleasure, however, and was the perfect catalyst to spark the explosions within her body.

She tensed suddenly against him, her hips paused as she pressed her throbbing clit hard against his hidden shaft when her climax finally hit. Her body arched even further and he could feel her fingers tighten about his pants. Wave upon wave rolled through her in an orgasmic outburst of chaos that crashed into every part of her being. She shuddered time and again, body trembling, momentarily blind with pleasure. Her moans broke into a single soft cry that wavered as her body shook. After what seemed an eternity, she suddenly collapsed against him, silent tears rolling down her cheeks as the euphoria overwhelmed her completely.
 
Jack grinned around Miranda’s nipple when she groaned, and then smiled as he thought “Was that actually Miranda?” when she squealed like a little girl. But the best part for him, by far, was when she moaned and came hard; he did his best to help the trembling woman in his lap ride out her climax for as long as possible, and then wrapped his arms around her as she collapsed against him. He doubted she would hear him, but as he caressed the back of Miranda’s head he spoke to her softly. “Good girl, that was perfect. You did great.”

Jack dropped one hand away from Miranda for a second and blindly reached for the towel he knew was sitting folded on her seat. He managed to snag it quickly enough and kind of flipped the thing out and across to his other hand, so that he could pull the cloth up and over Miranda’s bare back; the towel still felt a little damp, but he thought it might help keep her warm and also make it a lot less obvious that she was sitting topless in his lap. Then he wrapped his big arms around her slender frame and again started speaking to her gently as he stroked her hair. “I think you really needed that Miranda. You were a little … crazy there at first. Not that I wasn’t crazy too, but … Well, anyway … I know it must have taken a lot of … guts for you to just let go like that. Not that I think you’re some kind of wimp or anything. I know you’re not like that, at all. But that was … you should be proud of yourself.” Jack turned his head and kissed Miranda’s neck gently. “Just rest, okay? I’ve got you.”

As Jack continued to tenderly stroke Miranda’s hair and rock her in his arms, he wondered who exactly he’d be talking to once she got back from whatever nice trip she was taking in her head. Over the years he’d been with a couple of gals who’d happily screamed their brains out the first time the two of them had been together, but afterwards neither of them could look him in the eyes. Both had been like Miranda; smart, educated, professional, assertive. “Well, assertive outside the bedroom at least” he thought with a rueful smile. It had been a real shame when he never heard from either of those gals again; Jack felt his heart lurch at just the thought of Miranda maybe being like that too. He lifted his hand and took a quick look at his watch; he and Mikhail had an early morning tomorrow, but there was still a little time left for Jack to just sit and hold Miranda in his arms …
 
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She should be proud? Proud! Miranda had never been so utterly humiliated in all her life. What had she just done? Dry humped a near stranger bare breasted in public? She'd only expected a bit of kissing, perhaps some heavy petting. Never had she imagined he'd strip out of her clothes so she could ride his clothed erection. Even as he stroked her back and hair, uttering his soft reassurances, her cheeks burned with shame. She was a doctor, a professional, and shouldn't be cavorting like a wild teenager. If anyone from MSF caught her at it, she'd die from embarrassment. The thought prolonged her tears for longer than she'd liked, but eventually they dried, and she pushed off Jack, sliding into the seat next to him. Using the towel to cover herself, she quickly fixed her bra back into place and pulled up her sleeves, arching slightly afterward to zip her top back into place.

Her body still thrummed with release, but the euphoria quickly dissipated as anger rose. She wasn't mad at Jack, not exactly -- no, she was angry with herself, for allowing such a thing to happen. She should have stopped him. Should never have allowed the kiss at all. She certainly shouldn't have straddled him to make out. Reaching for her forgotten beer, she gulped down the contents in one go and set the empty bottle back on the dash.

Her eyes flicked sideways at the man beside her. "I should go. I'll find my own way home. Just... just keep your mouth shut about this, okay? It should have never happened. Stupid of me to even come here. I don't want... I don't want to be laughingstock... just another conquest that you laugh about with your boys in the locker room. I'd rather pretend this night just didn't happen at all."

She hastily grabbed for her shoes and bag, but completely forgot her jacket as she opened the door to slip out of his truck. Whatever Miranda he'd been expecting, it wasn't the one that had just used his erection to pleasure herself. Instead, he was left with a troubled, uncertain, and disheveled version of the woman he'd first met. She wasn't quite frosty, but it was clear that she couldn't handle what had just happened. Her instinct was to flee, to run from her emotions, and so she did.
 
Jack could see Miranda was incredibly upset, but he wasn’t about to abandon her to ‘find her own way home,’ especially in the state she was in and a place like Maiduguri. So he pulled out the truck keys, grabbed her jacket and caught up with her before she’d gotten very far. This time around he just planted himself in front of her and took hold of both her shoulders; his grip wasn’t exactly rough, but it was firm enough to let her know she was going to stop and listen to him, at least for a minute.

“You really have to stop running off like that” he began, his tone clearly exasperated. After a second’s thought he went on. “First, I told you I don’t kiss and tell. So I’m not going to be ‘laughing about what happened tonight with the boys;’ you don’t have to worry about that.” Jack could feel his voice and grip getting harder, because he was kind of pissed that Miranda thought that of him, and he forced himself to lighten up considerably on both as he went on.

“More importantly though, I’m also not going to ‘pretend this night didn’t happen,’ because it did. Yes, things got a little crazy and … different maybe. But we didn’t do anything wrong. We both wanted it to happen. And you didn’t just need it you liked it, and that’s okay. I’m not going to laugh at you. And you’re not just some ‘conquest’ to me.” Jack felt his anger rising again and “God, why do you think I’m such a piece of shit? What happened to you?” came out of his mouth before he could stop himself; looking back on it, he never regretted that it had.

Jack looked away, then back at Miranda and sighed as he took his hands off her. “Look, you’ve had an awfully rough night; we can talk about this some other time. But don’t be silly, let me drive you home. Otherwise I’m just going to follow you in the truck, until you get there or get picked up. So you might as well make it easier for both of us and hop in. We don’t have to talk, or even look at each other if you don’t want to.”

Once again Jack found himself completely out of ideas, and all he could think to add was “You forgot your jacket;” he held it up to Miranda and waited to see if she was going to talk to him, or just take it and keep walking …
 
Miranda winced, both at the grip upon her shoulders and the tone of his voice. A part of her realized that he was upset, not because of what had happened between them or that she was leaving, but because he didn't want her to think badly of him. Jack really wasn't one of the other assholes in her life, it seemed, though it was difficult for her to admit it, even if only to herself. However, that didn't mean that she'd excuse what they'd done simply because he claimed it wasn't 'wrong'.

Snatching her jacket out of his hand, she pointed an accusing finger at his truck. "That... that was fucked up and nothing you can say will make me think otherwise. I just compromised everything so I could get off. I'm not that girl any longer. I don't do things like that. I don't know what's wrong with me." She shook her head. "I just don't know. It was a stupid mistake and not one I'm eager to repeat. You shouldn't be encouraging that sort of behavior."

She sighed. "And I don't think you're a piece of shit, okay? I'm the one that's fucked up. It's me. I admit it. It's my shit to deal with, so stop trying so damned hard to be nice to me when I clearly don't deserve it. Because I don't deserve it. I'm dark inside, messed up, and you don't want to get sucked into that level of crazy." She slipped on her shoes by balancing first on one foot and then the other, and then pulled on her jacket, no longer able to meet his gaze.

"Beyond that, there's something about you that's gotten me all twisted, and I can't think clearly when you're around. So just let me go, Jack. We're not on a mission, and I'm not your responsibility. You don't have to care about my safety. If we keep things professional, we shouldn't have any other issues." Waving her phone, she tried to push past him. "I've already called for a car and will be waiting at the main gate for it. I'm not stupid enough to go wandering around the city by myself at night, okay? So I'm fine, I'll be safe, and you can go back to whatever it is you need to be getting back to."
 
Jack didn’t try to stop Miranda as she pushed past him, but did stick his hands in his pockets and walk alongside her to the gate. It had actually cooled down a bit and even though it was still kind of humid, it was a fairly pleasant evening weather-wise. Jelena’s compound also seemed fairly new, with nice looking villas and well maintained streets, so under other circumstances the walk might have actually been pleasant, romantic even. After a little bit Jack started talking casually, but he didn’t try to force any eye contact with Miranda as they strolled along.

“Look, I’ve said a couple times now that what happened was crazy. If you prefer ‘fucked up’ instead, I’m not going to say you’re wrong. And I should have known better too, for your sake if nothing else. But what did you expect? I give you a little kiss, and then you jump in my lap, start Frenching, and also … giving me a ‘dance’ that was as much for you as for me? Okay so what happened next was risky, but I still don’t think it was wrong. You needed something, and wanted it from me. And I was more than happy to help you be happy too, in my own way. I liked that and I know you did too, a lot, at least at the time. Just because the risky part was fucked up doesn’t mean all of it was; that’s just a lesson for the future.”

By that point they’d reached the gate and a guard stuck his head out of a little hut nearby; Jack called over “Just waiting for a car” and the guy’s attention immediately went back to a soccer game on the radio. Jack turned to Miranda and went back to calmly talking.

“And before you give me a ration of shit about ‘the future’ hear me out. I’ve known a couple of batshit crazy women in my life and you’re not one of them. Maybe you were in the past, but not anymore; sure I’ve only known you for a few days, but a lot has happened in that time. The only truly nutty thing I’ve heard you say is that you ‘don’t deserve’ me being nice to you. That’s …” Jack wanted to say bullshit, but instead opted for “…simply not true, so please stop saying it. And just like I’m not gonna pretend tonight didn’t happen, I’m also not going to roll things back to being ‘just professional,’ at least when we’re in private.”

Jack could see a car in the distance and thought it looked like the ones he’d seen MSF use in the past. So he took a chance and stepped up to Miranda, lightly held her shoulders in his hands and added one more thing. “I’ll call or text you. Probably not tomorrow, but as soon as I can. And if you don’t answer, I’m going to show up at your clinic at the busiest time of day, with a dozen roses in my hand, and walk up to your receptionist and tell her I’m there to apologize to Doctor Miranda Blake. I bet that’ll get tongues wagging.” Jack gave Miranda’s shoulders a gentle squeeze, then kissed her on the cheek for just a second. “Get home safe, and get some rest.”

As Jack turned and walked back to his truck, he wondered where the hell he was going to get a dozen roses in Maiduguri …
 
Miranda loosed an exasperated sigh as Jack finally left her alone and wandered back to his truck. She didn't need his abrupt reminder to know that she'd screwed everything up. She still didn't know what had come over her. Since when do I lose control like that? Thinking about how stupid she'd been made her feel ashamed and uncomfortable. She wanted to forget it, to forget everything, but he wasn't letting her bow out with whatever dignity she had left. For the tenth time that night, she felt like a fool. Worse yet, she'd done it to herself.

And who could she tell? Who could she talk to? Not any of her subordinates from the clinic. They'd lose all respect for her and it would make managing the clinic difficult. The moment she slipped and lost control of the clinic, the MSF would step in to give the project to someone else. Miranda didn't want to return to her hotel. She dreaded what would be waiting for her there, if not that night, then in the morning. Still playing the coward, she gave the driver a different address.

Something in her brooding expression kept him from attempting any semblance of conversation, for which Miranda was exceptionally thankful. She sank into the seat, zoning out the soft pumping sounds of Nigerian hip hop coming from the radio as she replayed the night's events in her mind. With each review, the sickening feeling in her stomach grew. By the time they reached the compound, she knew she was going to hurl. Of course, the alcohol didn't help with that.

As the car drove off, she leaned against the exterior wall, retching. The guard stepped out to check on her, but she waved him off. Seeing the state she was in, he gladly left her to her own devices, and had the decency not to look too closely when he buzzed her in. She leaned heavily against the door frame as she stopped in front of the villa and rapped softly on the door. She wasn't sure if he'd answer, but she really didn't know where else to go.

After several long moments, Dr. Jensen finally opened the door and stared at her in confusion. She could only imagine what he was seeing. Her professional demeanor had been blasted to rubble. The woman at his door was the polar opposite of the doctor he knew. Her hair was disheveled and mussed, her clothes still damp and creased, and now stained with vomit. Tears had bled through her mascara, leaving black circles around her eyes when she'd scrubbed them away. Whatever makeup she'd been wearing was smudged or gone completely.

"Who is it, Lee?" a voice called from inside.

Miranda winced. "Shit. Ah, sorry.... I should have... I should have guessed." Of course Lee would have company. The only reason he would have declined to go to the party was if he'd had other plans. Flushed with embarrassment yet again, she pulled her jacket around her a bit tighter and turned to leave.

"Hey!" Lee caught her arm gently, turning her back around. "What's wrong? You don't look so hot."

"Don't... don't worry about it. You've got company. I don't want to bother you."

Lee laughed, which shocked her a bit. He held up a hand to forestall any hurt feelings. "Sorry. We all know that you're not the sort to bother people with your problems. If you're here, then something's really wrong. Come in and tell me about it."

"But... your company?"

"Just Charlie. He knows how to keep his mouth shut. Where are you coming from?"

"Jelena's."

"Hell, that explains a lot. Come in. We'll get you cleaned up and you can tell us all about it. At the very least, you can crash on the couch. I don't think you should be going back home alone in your condition."

"Yea... probably not," she admitted, secretly glad she wouldn't have to brave the night alone.
 
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When Jack got back to his truck he put his shirt on, grabbed the towels and trash, and headed back to Jelena’s place. Outside the gate he had to step around a puddle of puke and as soon as he stepped into the pool area, he saw a young guy who couldn’t even make it that far; the dude was emptying his guts onto the inside of the wall only a couple of yards away. As Jack glanced in that direction he saw the topless French blonde dragging another guy into the bushes behind the patio, a big smile on her face; the pool itself had also filled up, probably because another couple of gals had jumped in and one of them had "somehow" managed to lose her top too. It was all pretty par for the course; a lot of very stressed people, far from home and trying to temporarily forget last week, and also the one to come.

---

Back in the dining room Jack’s luck changed a little, and he found a couple of stouts still tucked away. As he sipped one from a glass Naomi came into the room and gave him a little smile; Jack smiled back and watched as Aldo’s girlfriend poured herself a Coke. Then, to Jack’s surprise, the young Ethiopian gal walked over and spoke to him in a soft voice. “Hello again. Is Doctor Blake still outside? I was hoping to, um, speak to her a little more.” Jack shook his head sadly as he answered. “Sorry, she had to leave. But Aldo probably has her number now, so you can give her a call whenever you like. Just not tonight okay, ‘cause she wasn’t feeling well.” Naomi looked disappointed as she responded. “Okay, thanks.” Then, after a pause she added “It was nice to meet you” and gave Jack a little wave before she headed back to her boyfriend.

---

As Jack went in search of Mikhail he realized that the living room had changed a bit; instead of the Europop thumping away it sounded like some people were playing Rock Band on a console. Once he pushed his way through the watching crowd, Jack saw three people attempting to play along to some tune he vaguely remembered having been from an old cartoon he used to watch as a kid. The gal singing was bad and the guy playing lead guitar was even worse, but amazingly enough Mikhail was sitting behind a faux drum kit, a cigarette hanging from his lips as he hit every note and racked up crazy points for the whole band; the other two actually got kicked from the song partway through for doing poorly, but somehow or another the Russian was able to use his points to bring both back, and the three ended up finishing the tune with a low but passing score. Once they’d finished, all the people watching cheered and applauded and Mikhail reacted to that with his usual “enthusiasm;” still, the Russian did look around the room and nod a few times, which allowed Jack to make eye contact with him and tap his watch.

As Mikhail stood and put his drum sticks down a whole bunch of people called out for him to stay, but he ignored them. The only thing he reacted to was when Jelena stepped up, grasped him by the arms and kissed him on both cheeks. Jack smiled when he saw that, but also had to admit he felt a stab of envy in his gut too, as he saw how the Russian’s evening was turning out. Mikhail pulled his smoke from his lips, leaned in and whispered something to Jelena; that caused the Croatian woman to laugh and slap the Russian on the arm. Then Jelena also started applauding, as Mikhail picked up his water glass and walked over to Jack.

---

With clear admiration in his voice, Jack clapped as well and greeted Mikhail with “Will wonders never cease.”

The Russian looked puzzled as he responded. “You are wondering about something?”

Jack blinked, sighed and looked away for a few seconds. Then he looked back at Mikhail. “Yeah. I’m wondering what sin in a previous life I’m paying for tonight.”

The Russian stopped and took a sip from his glass before he replied. “Jek, you think too much.”

“No shit. C’mon, we gotta go. I’ll drive.”

Mikhail drained his glass before he set it down. “Of course you will.” Then the two men left Jelena’s party, just when it was getting interesting.

---Bonus Video Footage---

What Mikhail was playing along to in Rock Band:

4 Non Blondes - What's Up? (Official Video)

What Jack was recalling:

HEYYEYAAEYAAAEYAEYAA - What's Up? (He-Man cover)
 
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That evening hadn't been a total loss. Lee was a wonderful listener and provided both comfort and coffee. She also met Charlie, who was a nurse at one of the local hospitals, though thankfully not one for which she normally consulted. He was a tall Nigerian man, native to Maiduguri, though spoke English with a minimal accent. Like Lee, he was content to simply listen to her as she recounted her story. Miranda told them about most of the night, including making out with Jack, but left out the bit where she'd dry humped his erection to completion. Both were sympathetic, though wouldn't let her wallow in self pity like she desired. Lee told her pointedly that she'd overreacted. Of course, since she'd not relayed all of the truth, Miranda couldn't quite believe him. At his insistence, she crashed for the night on his couch, careful to hydrate and take pills for the headache she was bound to have in the morning.

Daylight crept through the break in the curtains and splashed across her face. Miranda woke with a soft groan and covered her face with a pillow to block out the light. Though she'd not had a terrible amount to drink the night before, and suffered only a minor hangover, her head was mostly pounding from the crying she'd done the night before. Her eyes were scratchy and ached, and her throat felt hoarse.

"Hey! You're awake."

Miranda groaned again.

Lee chuckled. "I know the feeling. I left you a change of clothes in the bathroom. They're scrubs, so they'll be big on you, but that's what draw strings are for. Why don't you get cleaned up so you don't leave the compound looking like a wreck?"

She sighed. "Thanks, Lee. It's more than what I deserve."

"Some day you'll have to stop beating yourself up over all the bad that's happened and start focusing on the good," he lectured. "Go on. Scoot. You'll feel better after the shower, I bet."

"Is that your professional opinion?"

"Naturally. I went tens of thousands of dollars into debt so I could boss people around and pretend like I know everything. Not all of us were scholarship babies."

Miranda snorted but dragged herself upright. Leaning forward with her elbows resting on her knees, she stared at the floor. "I really don't want to go to the clinic today," she muttered.

"Then don't. I can take over for the day. You've been pestering me to work there more, so now's the perfect opportunity. Take the day off to rest and collect yourself. It'll be fine."

Miranda would have normally protested, fiercely protecting her dominion over the clinic, but she was simply too tired and drained to offer much resistance. "Thanks," she said simply. "I owe you big time."

"Just remember that when I need someone to assist," he said, offering her a mug of freshly brewed coffee. "You're a way better surgeon and good at those tricky procedures."

"Well, for what it is worth, you're better at everything else," she replied honestly. "Especially dealing with people."

"Not going to argue with that."

-----

Dr. Jensen had been right about the shower. After she'd gotten cleaned up, Miranda felt quite a bit better physically. Mental insecurities plagued her still, but those would surely ease in time. Though Lee's scrubs were oversized, wearing them was comforting in an odd way. He'd also scared up for her an old pair of sneakers from the lost and found. They were a bit large, but she wouldn't be wearing them for long.

She'd almost forgotten how much she dreaded returning to her hotel when she finally reached her room and let herself inside. As she predicted, Carson was waiting for her, wearing the same smug smile that he favored. Miranda ignored him as she pulled off her borrowed shoes and dropped the rest of her things on the bed.

"It seems as though you had an enjoyable evening," he started. "A bit too enjoyable, if you ask me. So out of character for you, Dr. Blake."

"It was just a party," she said weakly. She threw him a glance as she pulled her damp hair up into a ponytail.

"Did you get anything for me?"

"Intel? No. We didn't talk about his work. I have the photographer's number, though, and will be getting copies of the pictures he took soon enough. It should give you some idea of their numbers and equipment. The guy took pictures of everything."

"That's something, I suppose," he said, though didn't sound pleased. "I have to say that you're playing this rather coolly. I never thought you the type of woman to seduce a man to get closer to him."

"I'm not seducing anyone," she snapped. "It's not like that."

"It isn't? Seems like that to me." He drew out a folder and undid the clasp, pulling out a stack of glossy eight by tens, which he tossed onto the coffee table one by one.

As she moved to study them, her face paled. There, in black and white, were pictures of her midnight ride in the cab of Jack's truck. The skilled photographer had gotten several angles, including their approach to the vehicle and their exit sometime later. Looking at them all together, there could be little doubt that Miranda was the bare-breasted woman in the photographs. Her lapse in judgement just gave Carson even more ammunition to use against her.

"I especially love that pose," he said as one finger slid over the picture's surface as if to flick her tits. "Body arched, breasts thrust outward, nipples hard and aching. He had a good taste of you, didn't he? Lucky man." His eyes flitted to meet hers and pouted mockingly. "You've never posed for me like that. I'm heartbroken."

Nostrils flaring in anger, Miranda swept up the pictures and shoved them back into the folder, tossing the packet onto her bed. "Jerk off on your own time. I'm not interested in your opinions about last night or anything else. You'll get information as soon as I have it. I'll leave it at the drop like normal. Don't come back here. People are beginning to take notice."

Clearly amused by her tone, he rose from his seat and paused to capture her chin, thumb caressing her skin lightly. "You're so damned cute when you're outraged. Don't worry, I won't be coming back... immediately. Just get me those photos, and I'll let you know when I need something else. I look forward to seeing what else you'll do to get in Jack Grainger's good graces. If you start sucking cock, I'm really going to be jealous. One of these evenings, we're going to have our own little party, I think."

Miranda batted his hand away, still glaring. "Get the hell out before I call for security. That'll ruin your little gambit, won't it?"

"Nothing but bluster, as usual," he said with a sigh. "Don't forget what you owe me, dear. Hate me all you want, but I own you, and you know it. All it'd take is one little word, and you'd be facing the death penalty back home. So be a good girl and get me what I need. Next time I have to come back here asking for information, it won't be so pleasant for you. And you, of all people, know that I don't bluff."

He offered a sarcastic wave of his fingers before he finally left her alone. In a fit of rage, Miranda yanked the folder of pictures from her bed and threw it on the floor. The photographs spilled out almost artistically. The top was Carson's favorite -- Miranda in the throes of exquisite ecstasy with Jack latched onto one of her nipples. Covering her face with her hands, she sank to the floor with a sob and burst into tears.
 
The next morning came early for Jack, and he went down to the chow hall just as the first cooks began coming in to prepare breakfast; since the coffee machines ran all night for the guys on guard duty, he was able to get a cup of java easily enough and then one of the cooks set out bread and butter as well. Jack thanked the guy, then carried his tray over to the still mostly dark dining area. Mikhail wandered in a few minutes later, and came over to join Jack after getting a mug of tea and a big pile of bread slathered with butter.

The Russian put four teaspoons of sugar into his mug, took his first sip and then looked over at Jack. “Do you have some sauce with you?” Jack dug around in his go-bag, fished out a bottle of hot sauce and passed it across the table.

After liberally sprinkling his bread, Mikhail looked back at Jack. “Spasibo. Tell me, did you see Doctor Bleck last night? You did not say.”

Jack thought about lying, but instead just said “Yeah. But I’d appreciate it if you didn’t tell the entire base, okay?”

The Russian had some bread, then nodded. “Of course.” After some more tea he continued on. “Did you have a pleasant evening?”

Jack sipped some coffee before he replied. “It had its ups and downs.”

“I see.” Mikhail had more bread and then asked. “Will you see her again?”

“Absolutely.”

“Horosho. Good.”

“So how about you?” Jack asked. “It looked like you and Jelena hit it off. She seems like a good match for you, and is pretty easy on the eyes too.”

The Russian put a little more sugar into his mug before he answered. “These things I have noticed.”

The two men finished their breakfast in silence, then carried their trays over to the scullery and went off to work.
 
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That week was something of a blur. After pulling herself from the depths of despair, Miranda did what she usually did when confronted with stress -- she piled more on top of what she already had and threw herself into her work even harder than before. It was a killer pace, and one she definitely couldn't sustain forever, but it kept her busy and her mind off the things haunting her. Not only did she work her normal hours at the clinic, but she also volunteered for two major surgeries at the hospital. One was a fairly simple hernial repair, but the other was a six hour open heart aortic valve replacement.

She ate very little during the week, finding herself too tired for food, and generally crashed at the clinic or the hospital for a few hours before dragging herself up to do it all over again. It was vaguely reminiscent of her time as a surgical resident when hours were long, sleep was scarce, and patients were always first priority over all other physical needs. The only difference this time around was that she didn't have Thomas to support her. He'd been her strength, her rock, and the only reason she'd survived. Without him to bully her into caring for herself, she simply didn't bother.

Even with her grueling schedule, Miranda still caught herself thinking about Jack at those quiet times when she found herself unable to concentrate on paperwork or when sleep didn't come immediately. He'd promised to call or text, but she wasn't sure if she was more afraid that he would... or that he wouldn't. So she did her best to concentrate on work rather than obsessing over her incoming messages, all the while wondering why a man like him would be interested in a woman like her when she was clearly doing all she could to scare him off.
 
On Monday morning the waiting area at Miranda’s clinic was buzzing with the news that infighting seemed to have broken out within Boko Haram over the weekend. No one knew whether that would be a good thing or a bad thing for the people of Maiduguri but what everyone did seem to know, in bits and pieces, was that a notorious BH Commander had been killed in the city on Sunday. For years the Commander had operated out of a poor neighborhood known to be a BH stronghold; Nigerian security forces only entered that district in strength, and never seemed to find anything or anyone of importance when they did. That had allowed the Commander to orchestrate several spectacular attacks throughout Maiduguri, to include the recent bombing of a bus terminal in Gomari that had killed sixteen people and maimed dozens more.

One of the things still unclear was exactly how the Commander had been killed. He’d been coming out of a safehouse to get into an old twin-cab pickup when some sort of small bomb had exploded, killing him and a Lieutenant instantly; the Commander’s two bodyguards and his driver were also critically injured in the blast. But only six other people were hurt, though one of those was a pregnant teen who lost an eye due to flying glass. No one was really sure where the bomb had been placed; some said it had been attached to a small motorcycle sitting nearby, while others thought it had been hidden in a nearby trash pile. One person even insisted it had been strapped to a passing dog.

After the killing all manner of rumors started swirling around the district and then out into the broader city. One said the Commander had been killed by BH’s leadership, because he’d sworn allegiance to ISIS. Another said the Commander had been killed by ISIS, as a warning to BH that “killing innocents was not in accordance with the teachings of Mohammed, Allah’s last and greatest Prophet (Peace Be Upon Him.)” No one knew exactly what to think, as they worried and waited to be treated by the physicians of the Médecins Sans Frontières clinic run by Doctor Blake.

Towards the end of the day on Tuesday, one of Miranda’s patients happened to mention the name of the BH Lieutenant who’d also been killed in the bombing; it was the same name she’d given to Jack at their first meeting.

---

“The greatest victory is that which requires no battle.” Sun Tzu, The Art of War.
 
"Interesting, isn't it? The killing of the Commander and his Lieutenant. Quite interesting."

Miranda was far too tired for Carson's nonsense. She took another long drink of her coffee, desperately hoping the caffeine would give her the boost she desperately needed. "Bombings happen all the time here," she sighed. "What's so interesting about this one?"

"The nature of it, I think. No one quite knows how it happened. I doubt they ever will."

"They were bad guys, right? So why would you care?"

"Because some of these bad guys are our bad guys," he said darkly. "That Lieutenant, for instance. He was always eager to make a deal that might earn him a bit of cash on the side. Now that he's gone, it leaves a bit of a gap."

"Which will probably be filled by another scumbag soon enough," Miranda pointed out.

"Likely, but it is disconcerting to lose an asset so suddenly, especially when such time has gone into forging a relationship."

"Maybe you shouldn't be dealing under the table with the bad guys." She shouldn't have said it, and knew she'd made a mistake the moment it came out of her mouth, but she was exhausted, which left her somewhat unguarded and not completely in control of her emotions.

He stared at her for a moment before smiling. "My dear, the world is filled with nothing but bad guys. Everyone has their own dirty little secret that they'd rather not have exposed. Everyone makes bad judgement calls from time to time, and usually end up paying for them. Haven't you, Doctor Blake?"

Miranda shoved her coffee aside. "I didn't come here to listen to your shit, Carson."

As she rose, he grabbed her by the wrist and jerked her back down into her chair. His grip clamped down like an iron vise, threatening to break her bones. Pain drawing her eyebrows together, she bit back her cry and drew in a shaky breath. A soft whimper rose in her throat as he twisted. "You came because I told you to come, and you'll sit here until I let you leave. Right?"

Clenching her jaw, Miranda nodded mutely. Carson squeezed tighter for a few moments and then finally released her, sitting back in his chair. She clutched her arm to her stomach, rubbing it with her other hand. She'd likely be sporting bruises the next day, which wasn't like him at all. He usually didn't leave any visible marks. He was getting comfortable. Comfortable and sloppy.

"So why did you call me down here, then? I've got loads to finish up at the clinic before I can even think about sleeping, so please don't waste any more of my time. You know how hard I'm working."

"I think your boyfriend had something to do with that little bombing."

Miranda frowned. She'd not told Carson of the information that she had been feeding Jack, nor any of the names she'd given him. While she knew that Jack had likely passed her information on and they used it to kill two of Boko Haram's officers, Miranda guessed that Carson was simply on a fishing expedition. He didn't have any proof, and he was waiting for her to drop something in his little pond.

"I doubt it," she said. "One, he isn't my boyfriend. Two, his detail is assigned to peacekeeping, protection, and rescue missions. He's a hired gun, not a demo expert or trained assassin."

"You don't know the full extent of his skill set," he pointed out.

"You got me there," she said, rolling her eyes. "What's your point?"

"I need you to find out for certain if he and his men were involved."

"You think he's just going to blab to me about some top secret covert op?"

"Men let loose all sorts of secrets to the women sucking their dicks."

Miranda's gaze hardened. Carson grinned again, knowing he'd struck a nerve. "So, I guess you know what you have to do."

"Fuck off," she muttered. "I'm not your hired whore."

"Ah, I think that's exactly what you are. Or soon will be. Don't disappointment me, Miranda. You know how I hate to be disappointed."
 
By late Tuesday Jack’s week had settled down some and he was able to hit the gym to blow off a little steam; Ian had duty at the aid station, so he ended up working out alone. As Jack went through his routine he went over everything that’d happened on Saturday night for the umpteenth time, and still couldn’t quite put his finger on why things had gone so sideways. Sure, Miranda was a classy gal and kind of private, but she had to know that in a town where people screwed in the bushes at pool parties, them fooling around in his truck wasn’t the end of the world; even if they had been caught, it wasn’t like she was going to lose her license over it or whatever. The only way that would’ve raised some eyebrows was if one of them was married. He thought about that for a bit.

Jack hadn’t seen a ring on Miranda’s finger, but nowadays that didn’t really mean anything. So maybe she had a spouse or a boyfriend, or maybe a girlfriend back home she was cheating on? That might explain some of how she’d reacted, but not all of it. There was all that stuff about her being dark and messed up and crazy, that had sounded like she was remembering some other time when she’d lost control and then had some major train wreck because of it. But he couldn’t quite imagine what that scenario might have been, given the woman Miranda was today. Maybe she’d lost a patient because of some impulsive mistake, or run over someone driving home after working too long a shift? Or maybe having a few drinks too many? That fit a lot better as a theory at least, but still left him pretty much in the dark about what was going on in her head. “Only one way to find out” he thought, as he grabbed his phone and fumbled around for a few minutes with the tiny keys to send Miranda a text.

Hey, sorry was crazy busy. Dinner 2morrow? Lebanese place @730? I can get takeaway if ur busy, eat @ ur place instead if u want, or maybe picnic @ the zoo? Let me know, otherwise I go shop for roses! : )

After he sent the text Jack gave George a call over at the restaurant; if anyone in town would know where to get some roses, it’d be him …
 
Miranda didn't see Jack's text until she was out of surgery. It had been a long emergency appendectomy on one of her patients from the clinic, but it had gone well. The woman had been taken to post-op where she'd remain until most of the anesthesia had worn off, but the nurse report told Miranda that she was already coming around and responding normally. Sitting in the staff locker room, she stared at the text on her phone and frowned. Picnic at the zoo? Dinner at a restaurant? Neither of those choices appealed to her just then. She definitely didn't want to see him in public. Not only would Carson likely take the opportunity to spy on them, but Miranda had a nagging suspicion that future conversations with Jack would likely get heated, and she didn't want turn their dinner into a public spectacle. Tucking away her phone, she decided to ignore the text, giving her time to think on it.

The next morning dawned and, as she slowly roused to wakefulness, she remembered Jack's offer. Turning in her bed, she lazily reached for her phone and flipped on the screen to check her calendar. She didn't have any surgeries scheduled, but would have a full day at the clinic. Seven-thirty was probably late enough to get home and freshen up before dinner, but eight would be better. Sighing, she pulled up Jack's text and typed out a response.

Prime Lodge & Apts. Room 122. 8pm. Bring food and beer.

Leaving him to work out the rest of the details himself, she rose and got ready for work. The day at the clinic was much like any other. Miranda was busy, but it wasn't as hectic as the previous week had been. She arrived back at her room around six-thirty and took the opportunity to take a shower and change into something casual. Never one to waste time, she sat down to work on her reports while she waited for Jack to arrive.
 
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At morning chow on Wednesday Jack’s phone chirped and he saw Miranda’s reply; it was a little terse, but way better than “I never want to see you again, you asshole!!!” So he smiled as he sent back a simple:

OK, c u then.

---

Given everything going on, the morning staff meeting was a long one, but Jack was able to get a word in edgewise when Danny mentioned the intel shop was working on new info Jack had obtained from a solid source; with that greasing the skids, he was able to get Dieter’s blessing for another “Civil Affairs” day trip sooner rather than later, provided it was to somewhere that would also benefit the unit. Jack didn’t think that’d be a huge problem, and with the good news in his hip pocket he decided to play a little hooky and go “reconnoiter” the local market again.

---

After prowling around Jack found an old school tailor with a small shop packed to the ceiling with fabric; all his stuff was handmade and some of it seemed really nice. There was one shirt that kind of reminded him of the barongs he’d seen everyone wearing in the Philippines and another that looked like a Mexican guaybera; he really liked the guayabera, with its short sleeves, loose fit and a collar that obviously would never see a tie. Plus the thing had four pockets and a sort of understated embroidery on the front that didn’t seem “boring” to him. There was nothing on the shelf that fit him, but the old guy quickly took Jack’s measurements and told Jack he could have some shirts ready by tomorrow; the price he quoted was probably inflated, but still absurdly reasonable compared to back in the States. Jack picked out a few different colors and told the dude he’d pay double if he could have the white linen shirt ready by 7; the tailor just smiled widely and nodded.

---

After work Jack hit the gym again and then trimmed up his beard a little after showering. Over at the tailor shop he changed into his new shirt before he drove over to George’s; the Lebanese restauranteur didn’t just have his order ready, but also had a dozen pink roses that had come up from Abuja on the Azman Air flight that morning. When Jack asked how much he owed for the roses, George just laughed and said “Me, nothing my friend. The pilot? He wants to fire a live RPG next time he visits.” Jack just laughed back and told George to tell his buddy he could fire two. “Good luck” George added with a smile, as Jack hustled out the door with his hands full.

---

Finding the Prime Lodge and Apartments wasn’t hard and as Jack gathered up his stuff he noticed there was even a little blank card and envelope tucked into the flowers; he thought “Okay, maybe I should make it three rockets for the pilot” as he quickly filled out the card and tucked it back into place. Carrying everything and his go-bag really required three hands, but one of the workers from the Lodge helped him out and at five of eight, he knocked on the door of Room 122.

---Photo---

Jack's "hopefully less boring" shirt that he had made for his dinner with Miranda.
 
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Miranda opened the door after a moment and waved a hand to offer entry, gesturing to the nearby counter in the small kitchen. Like Jack, she was dressed casually and comfortably. Her oversized top was made of a soft material in dove-grey that fell to mid-thigh and left one shoulder bare. Beneath, she wore black leggings that hugged her shapely legs. Her feet were bare, though her toenails had recently been repainted in a deep red. She'd left her hair to fall naturally after her shower and hadn't bothered with makeup. Without foundation, he could clearly see the dark circles beneath her eyes that spoke fathoms of how little sleep she'd been getting. Miranda might have covered those up in public, but she'd already decided that she wasn't trying to impress Jack.

The interior of the hotel room was set up as an extended stay apartment. The door opened directly into the kitchen and small dining table with two chairs. Beyond lay the living room that held the couch, an overstuffed chair, and moderately sized flat screen LED television. A sliding door in the living room looked out over a small private patio. An open doorway led to the bedroom and bathroom. From the kitchen, he could catch a glimpse of a blue tufted headboard behind the queen sized bed in the bedroom, but little else.

While all of the furnishings in the apartment, except for the television, were somewhat dated, they seemed to be in good repair and clean. The place was also exceptionally tidy, almost anally so -- from the neatly stacked magazines on the coffee table, to the perfectly positioned cans of food in the cupboards, there was no sign of disorganization anywhere. Some might have said it was devoid of her personality, but those that knew Miranda well would testify that the orderly atmosphere was her personality.

Looking Jack over as she closed the door behind him, she frowned as her gaze fell on the flowers. "I thought those were the threat we were trying to avoid," she commented. "Where did you possibly find pink roses in this place on short notice? Nice shirt, by the way." It was a nice shirt and complimented his form nicely. She wondered why he hadn't worn it to the party.

-----------

Miranda's casual casual wear
Apartment layout
 
Jack immediately noticed how exhausted Miranda looked, but forced himself not to ask about that right away. Instead he kind of fumbled around with everything he was carrying and then held the flowers out to her. “Here, could you take these please, before I drop them? They’re for you.” Then Jack was able to plop the plastic bags of takeaway on the little table, shrug off his go-bag and set that behind the overstuffed chair and finally properly answer Miranda’s question. “Well yeah, at first I mentioned the flowers as kind of an … incentive let’s say. But then I thought I wanted you to have them regardless, so it just sort of became a matter of where you got them, at work or somewhere else. And as far as where they came from goes ... that’s classified.” Jack grinned as he added “There’s a card in there somewhere too, unless I dropped it on the way in.”

Still smiling Jack went on. “So do you really like the shirt? I kind of do. I don’t usually bring any GQ looking stuff with me to a warzone, but I didn’t want to look boring again, so I found this great tailor who was able to make it up for me.” Jack looked down at his guayabera, then back at Miranda. “Maybe I’ll get a pith helmet to go with it. Or a sombrero would probably be more appropriate.”

Jack’s eyes finally left Miranda’s and quickly swept over her place. It reminded him a lot of her office; looking ready for an inspection at a moment's notice. Completely unsurprised he began pulling containers from the plastic bags.

“So I didn’t know what you liked, or how hungry you’d be, so I might have overdone it a bit. Here’s some hummus of course, and a Greek salad so we can pretend to be healthy. Then a couple of shawarmas, one chicken and the other lamb; this looks like … yeah, it’s the sauce. But then I also got a beef kabob too, just in case. These are the fries that come with the shawarmas, and here’s the rice from the kabobs. Shoot, I didn’t ask for any ketchup for the fries, but that’s not a big deal for me … maybe you have some, if you want. And here's some more pita too.” Then Jack pulled out one last container. “And just in case we have some room left over, the baklava.”

Jack used his multi-tool to pop open a couple of Castles and then asked Miranda if she could put the other bottles in her fridge. “I’ll let you get the glasses and plates, and whatever else too, instead of rummaging around your kitchen.”

With all that taken care of, Jack relaxed a bit; it didn’t seem like he was going to be yelled at and ‘run off’ before they’d had a chance to eat and talk some. He stuck his hands in his pockets, looked at Miranda and asked “So how are you? How’s your week been going?”

---The card---

Jack didn’t drop the card from the roses on the way in from his truck. To open the little envelope and see what it said, click below:

Sorry I fucked up Sat night. Jack
 
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While Jack unpacked the food, Miranda held the roses he'd brought and awkwardly gave them a sniff, almost as though they were an alien creature that she didn't know how to handle. Plucking the card free, she slid out the note, smirking at the message. One eyebrow quirked as she glanced back to Jack, studying him for a moment. Suddenly realizing she'd been staring instead of helping, she cast about for something to put the flowers into.

The apartment didn't come with a vase, so she pulled a plastic pitcher from the cupboard and filled it with water before shoving the roses inside, wrapper and all. The card she took and stuck to the fridge with one of the touristy magnets she'd picked up during one of her market trips. She gave it another look before moving to fetch them plates, eating utensils, and a couple of serving utensils if they needed it. The beer went into the fridge, but she didn't pull any glasses, being perfectly content to drink her beer from the long neck bottle.

She began to set the table for them, stomach growling in hunger at the smell of the various dishes he'd brought. "I think I'll try a little bit of everything," she said. Everything looked and smelled delicious. She hoped it tasted just as good. Before sitting, she took her phone and tapped one of the apps. The mellow sounds of Gordon Lightfoot's 'Sundown' rose from the bluetooth speaker in the living room.

Waving Jack to his chair, she took a seat and began to pluck various bits out of the containers and transfer them to her plate. She threw him casual glances while they talked. "Me? I've been busy, as usual. The clinic is always full, and I've assisted on a few surgeries. How about you? I heard that you and your team have been very busy lately." She wasn't sure how much he'd tell her, but she had to at least try.

Had he really gotten a shirt tailor made because she'd called his other one 'boring'? Miranda had to mull that one over. Jack was putting forth a serious effort to remain friends, though she still wasn't sure why. Something within her made it impossible to consider the fact that he simply enjoyed her company. Then again, if he was just trying to get into her pants, he could have done that in the truck. She wasn't really sure she would have stopped him.

---------

🎵 Sundown 🎵
 
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Jack sat down and smiled as the music came on; “An oldie but a goodie.” Then as he started dinner with some of the hummus and Greek salad he added “Just tell me ‘The Edmund Fitzgerald’ isn’t coming up next on your play list, okay?”

As Jack munched on some salad he considered Miranda’s quick, casual answer and his gaze flicked to the bags under her eyes; she definitely looked like she’d been a lot busier than usual in the past few days, and while he didn’t want to flatter himself he had to wonder if he’d helped contribute to how tired she looked. “You’ll have to tell me what kind of surgeon you are sometime. There are specialties for that too, right? I kind of doubt you’re doing any nipping and tucking out here, but what do they have the equipment for? I mean, I doubt you just whip a scalpel out of that Doctor’s bag of yours and start cutting away.” Jack grinned. “Or do you?”

As Jack helped himself to half a shawarma and some fries, he turned to Miranda’s question. “Me? Well we had a training exercise on Sunday, then more business as usual after that for me too. That most recent bombing has everyone in a tizzy of course, so a few more folks have been willing to talk to me while everyone tries to figure out what it’ll all mean in the long run. Then the usual meetings and admin stuff. The intel guys are looking at those latest names you gave me by the way and said they seemed like good stuff. So I got my boss to okay another day trip to the bush for you if you want; probably not this week, but early next should be doable. It’d be best if you could come up with a couple or three candidates, so we could take a look at travel times and threat levels, stuff like that and then pick one. From what you’ve said that shouldn’t be too hard, since it sounds like everyone needs some help around here.”

Jack sipped some of his beer, then decided they might as well talk about what they’d been tip-toeing around while they ate; by that point he felt pretty certain Miranda wasn’t going to just clam up or toss him out. “So, uh … I guess we could talk about the weather next, or last Sunday’s game, but I was kind of hoping we could talk about Saturday night instead.” Jack held up his hand as he quickly went on. “Please, just hear me out again, okay? I’m not going to rehash everything I said then, after … well, afterwards. I get it okay. I fucked up. I should have known better, looked out for you better. And I think you believe me, that I wasn’t trying to hurt or embarrass you, right? I mean, I know I wouldn’t be sitting here right now otherwise. So instead of arguing or whatever, I was hoping we could just talk a little, so that maybe I could understand what’s going on a little better. Because while some of Saturday was fucked up, like I said I don’t think all of it was and so … I’m just not getting it or … well all of it, I guess. I know how classy, and private, and professional you are at this point but … you were really, really, really upset.” Jack paused before he kind of shook his head, almost as if it was about to explode. “I mean, they were already screwing … in the bushes … by the time I walked back to Jelena’s place.”

Jack looked away at Miranda’s tidy little apartment for a few seconds, then back at her. “So look, let me ask you. Are you married? Have a boyfriend, or maybe a girlfriend back home? I mean if you do, you wouldn’t be the first lonely, stressed out person in that … situation to make a mistake around here.” Jack had tried hard to keep his voice semi-casual as he spoke to Miranda, and he thought he’d done a fairly good job of doing just that. But he really wished he had his fidget spinner with him then too, because he was making circles with his empty beer bottle (“When did I finish that?” he thought) on the table in front of him as he waited for Miranda’s answer …

---Bonus Video Footage---

There are a number of Edmund Fitzgerald videos out there and the below will show you the one Jack liked best. It combines Gordon Lightfoot’s haunting ballad with archived photos, video and audio to essentially produce a six minute documentary about the doomed ship and her crew; Jack’s favorite lines were always the ones about the old cook.

The Wreck of the Edmund Fitzgerald (Joseph Fulton, April 20 2009)
 
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