Very, Very Carefully
Part 10
"Layla called earlier," John said as he and Steve were getting ready for bed two nights later. "She wanted to know how Alex was doing."
Alex had been released from the hospital and was now asleep in John's room, not wanting to go home again until the door to her flat was repaired. John was secretly pleased that he could keep an eye on her for the next few days, and he had been getting some clothes and other essential things from Alex's flat when Layla had phoned.
"That was nice of her," Steve remarked. "Did she say anything about Cobb?"
Initially, John hadn't reported what had happened at the wedding, not wanting to mention anything that might worry or distress Steve. But after she'd found out that it was Cobb who'd attacked and raped Alex, he'd had to tell her everything. Even though she said she understood why, he knew she was still a bit miffed that he'd chosen to leave her in the dark all that time.
"She said, now that Cobb's been caught, there's suddenly a lot of talk about how nasty and vicious he always was, how long he could hold a grudge until he got even, and how his idea of getting even was hurting the other bloke even worse. Somehow, he always got away with it, too, until now. But Layla also said that even Major Pemberton couldn't say anything good about him, and that's telling you something."
"Who's Major Pemberton?" Steve asked.
"He's Layla's superior officer now, but before that, back when I was still in the Regiment, he was mine," John explained. "Apparently Cobb served under him for a while, too, until the major found a way to pass him off to somebody else."
Steve nodded, and John sighed. "All the good blokes get killed too early, and men like Cobb just go on and on and on …"
"Not all the good blokes," Steve said, and poked John gently in the chest. He smiled wistfully, and she smiled back.
"I wish I'd killed him in Nigeria," he said. "I wish I'd broken his neck. I always err on the side of compassion, and it always comes back to haunt me."
Steve put her arms around him and held him tightly, and he returned the hug, then remembered something else. "Layla also told me that my leg wasn't broken, just badly bruised, and I could be considered fit for duty in a few days."
"Oh," said Steve, pulling back a little to look up at him. "So you'll go off soon and rescue some other damsel in distress?"
"It could be a bloke," John said, and Steve tried to make a joke. "A "dam-sir" in distress, then?"
John snorted a little in appreciation of her attempt, which made Steve smile, too.
"It's your job, and don't tell me you haven't been looking forward to getting back," Steve told him. "I guess I've been concentrating too much on my own work, I never stopped to think that they might call you up right at Christmas time."
"They might not," John said. "I never know when they'll call."
"Well, if they do, it's because they want the best, and that's you." Steve poked him again, this time in the shoulder. "I just have to get used to being a military wife, I guess, missing you when you're gone, and celebrating when you come back."
She went back to hugging him as though practising for the celebration already, but after a moment, it was John's turn to pull back. "Alex doesn't think I know anything about rape. Do you think I should tell her, before I go?"
"I don't know." Steve shook her head slightly. "She's your daughter, Andy, you know her so much better than I do."
"I've hardly seen her these last eight or nine years," John mused. "I don't know if I know her at all."
"Are you afraid she'll think less of you?" Steve asked, cutting right to the chase, and John shrugged. "Yeah. I mean, she spent so many years despising me, and she's only just now seeing that maybe she doesn't have to be ashamed of me. I don't want to put that in jeopardy."
"She should be proud of you, John Porter," Steve said firmly. John blinked in surprise at her use of his full name, and she went on, "In Nigeria, you did what you had to do to fulfil your mission. We both got out alive, and even if we both got hurt, we're recovered now. We're stronger, and better, and … if I say faster, I'll sound like some kind of advertisement for vitamin pills or something."
John chuckled despite himself.
"And here, you followed your instincts and caught the man who hurt her. How could she despise you for that?"
"And what happens when I tell her that he only hurt her to get at me?" John asked. "When she finds out it all started with me, because of what I did?"
"You can't blame yourself for Cobb's personality," Steve said. "A better man would have accepted your apology."
John had to admit that was true. "But will Alex see it that way?"
"I don't know. But you know what's been worrying me more than that?" Steve went on. Before John could answer, she continued, "What if Cobb goes to trial and everything comes out in the press? Who knows what the journalists will dig up?"
"I never thought of that." John groaned. Kenwright Oil, the British Secret Service, and the Nigerian authorities had all managed between them to keep the whole hostage thing quiet, but it was going to be more difficult with this. Much more difficult.
"If Alex wakes up one morning and reads all about it in the newspapers, the first thing she'll ask is why you didn't mention this before. That might be worse than anything else," Steve pointed out.
"So I have to tell her."
"Tell me what?"
They both looked around to see Alex standing in the doorway, adjusting the sling that held her splinted arm firmly against her body.
"'Cause if you're worried that I'm going to find out from the newspapers that you're sleeping together, I already know," Alex said. She looked at them, sitting together on the sofa bed, and added, "It's, like, really obvious."
"I thought you were asleep," John said, reverting back to parent mode.
"I had a bad dream and I woke up," Alex replied. "I heard you talking, so I thought it might be safe to come out and get a drink."
"It's safe," Steve assured her, smiling a little in embarrassment even though Alex hadn't caught them at anything.
"Go get your drink," John said. "And then I've got something to tell you."
Alex gave them both a curious look as she walked to the kitchen. As soon as he heard the water running, John turned to Steve. "Will you help me explain it?"
"Of course," she said, and took his hand.
Alex came back in and sat down in the armchair, then looked at them expectantly. There was an awkward silence. In the military, John had learned that sometimes – most of the time – you just had to jump in and do things without thinking, and decided that this was one of those times.
"Alex," he said. "On my last mission … I was raped."
He told most of the story, with Steve speaking up only to clarify a few points. When they'd finished, John looked earnestly into Alex's face, waiting to see her reaction. She didn't say anything, but her shoulders had drooped, she'd hunched over a little, and she didn't meet his eyes. Was she ashamed? Had he made a grave mistake? If he had, it was too late now.
"I've been seeing a therapist," he finished. "It's really helped."
"And Lieutenant Thompson recommended the same therapist to me," Steve put in. "Like your father said, she's really good. We can give you the number and you can make an appointment for yourself if you like."
"Well, yeah, you'd need therapy after something horrific like that," Alex said, and there was a tone of angry contempt in her voice. "But since what I just went through is nothing in comparison …"
She stood up abruptly and stalked in the direction of the bedroom. John stared at her in shock, wondering where on earth all that had come from, but Steve leaped up and cut her off. "Alex, no, that is not true!"
"Yes, it is!" Alex hissed, but at least she didn't try to force her way through. She just stood there, staring down at the floor.
"What you went through is not nothing," Steve stated.
John got up, too. "Alex , we didn't tell you this to make you feel bad."
"No, you only told me because you were afraid it would come out in the papers!"
"I never thought that," John said, and Steve hastily added, "That was my worry."
John went on. "I just wanted you to know that I have an idea of what you're going through. I understand what it's like and if you ever need me …"
"His shoulder is very comfy to cry on," Steve said.
Rolling her eyes, Alex snapped, "I did not want to know that."
"Sorry, I didn't mean to be flippant. But just one more thing, Alex, and then I won't say any more." Steve reached out and touched Alex lightly on her good arm. "You have a right to your pain. No matter how much somebody else might have suffered, it doesn't affect you. It doesn't make whatever you've gone through any less. We're not in a competition here where only the winner gets to suffer! So don't you ever, ever feel that your pain is nothing or that you're not allowed to feel bad about what happened, because you are! You have just as much right as anybody else to feel hurt and angry and scared and sad, or whatever you want. Now. I'm going into the kitchen, and you – you take advantage of those rights!"
She gave them both a fierce look, then marched off, leaving John and Alex alone in the living room.
"You can blame me," John said. The words threatened to block his throat, but he pushed them out anyway. "You have the right … to hate me."
The anger and scorn drained from Alex's face, and she suddenly began to cry. John opened his arms in a hesitant invitation, and she stepped into his embrace, leaning her head against his shoulder. All too aware of her injured joints, John hugged her carefully, trying not to cause her any more pain, and she put her good arm around his waist.
Eventually, Alex stopped sobbing, detached herself from his arms, then looked up at him, blinking her tears away. "I don't know what I feel, Dad. I know I hate that man, I hate him, but other than that, I just don't know!"
"I hate him, too," John said, then tried to reassure her. "Alex, it doesn't matter what else you feel, it's all right. I understand."
"Maybe I should hate you, I don't know. Maybe I should hate myself," Alex said, her voice still ragged and shaky. "All those years when I didn't want to see you, and now … all I can think of is that, when he was twisting my arm, I knew that if I could just get my phone out and call you, you'd be there, you'd come help me."
Finding it even harder to speak this time, John was surprised at how husky his voice sounded when he finally did manage to reply. "I will, Alex, I will always do everything in my power to be there for you."
She sighed, then rubbed the side of her head with one hand. "I shouldn't cry so much, it makes my head ache."
"Do you want a painkiller?" John asked.
"I just took one," she said, then looked up at him. "You're crying, too, Dad. I've never seen you cry before."
Unable to deny the single drop of moisture that had escaped his eye, John gave her a sheepish half-smile. He reached out for another embrace, but their moment of closeness was over, and Alex flinched back. There was an uncomfortable moment of silence before Alex finally said, "I think I'll just go back to bed now."
"Sleep well, love," John said, and a second drop of moisture escaped his other eye.
"You, too, Dad."
They nodded awkwardly at each other, then Alex went off to the bedroom. John scrubbed the tears from his cheeks, then went into the kitchen. Steve had seated herself at the table and was pretending to flick through one of the vegetarian cookery books that she'd brought up from Margate for him, but stood up when he came in.
"Is she all right?" she asked.
"I don't know," John admitted. "Probably not. And I don't know if I can help her, either."
"I think you've already helped her as much as you can," Steve said. "And you and I both know that things like this take time, more time than a broken leg, or even a bullet wound."
John had to admit she was right.
"And now, speaking of time, we should get to bed before we freeze out here," Steve added, making him grin.
Once they had settled down and the lights were off, John felt his thoughts shift from his daughter to the other woman in his life. His sex drive had come back, as normal as ever, and he'd been wondering for a few days if he were ready to move on in their relationship. He couldn't imagine being intimate with anybody besides Steve, though, and even if there were problems, he was sure they could help each other through. The only thing he wasn't sure about was Steve and how she felt, but now, with the threat of him being called up at any time, it was time to find out. Trying to sound casual, he asked, "Are you still cold?"
"Yes," Steve exclaimed and made exaggerated shivering sounds.
"You can cuddle up next to me," he offered. "We can warm up together."
"Does that mean you're not hot?" she asked jokingly, and in the same teasing tone of voice, John replied, "Oh, I'm very hot."
Steve giggled a little as she scooted over and cuddled up. John put his arms around her, enjoying the feel of her body next to his, and Steve said, "You know what? You are, actually."
"And so are you," he said, still trying to sound casual.
"Funny that Alex thinks we're sleeping together," Steve said, which was exactly what John had been going to say. Was she leading up to the same thing he was? Before he could reply, however, she'd continued. "Technically, though, I guess we are."
Enough of the casual remarks, John thought. Time to switch to the army method of just going for it. "Steve, any time you want to make it more than just technical … "
"You mean like to-night?" she asked. Did she sound eager, or was she still teasing?
"Only if you want. I don't want to force you into doing anything you're not ready for," he said.
"I don't know if I'm ready or not," Steve said, and all hint of teasing had left her voice.
"We can stop at any time," John reassured her. "Any time, for any reason."
He reached up and carefully stroked her hair, half-expecting her to push him away, but she didn't. Instead, she slipped her hand under his T-shirt and began hesitantly to stroke his back.
"I think I'm ready to try," she whispered.
Just the fact that she was touching his bare skin was almost more arousing than if she'd gone straight for his pants, and John whispered back, "I'm ready to try, too."
Then he kissed her – very, very carefully.
The End
written February-July 2011
Alex had been released from the hospital and was now asleep in John's room, not wanting to go home again until the door to her flat was repaired. John was secretly pleased that he could keep an eye on her for the next few days, and he had been getting some clothes and other essential things from Alex's flat when Layla had phoned.
"That was nice of her," Steve remarked. "Did she say anything about Cobb?"
Initially, John hadn't reported what had happened at the wedding, not wanting to mention anything that might worry or distress Steve. But after she'd found out that it was Cobb who'd attacked and raped Alex, he'd had to tell her everything. Even though she said she understood why, he knew she was still a bit miffed that he'd chosen to leave her in the dark all that time.
"She said, now that Cobb's been caught, there's suddenly a lot of talk about how nasty and vicious he always was, how long he could hold a grudge until he got even, and how his idea of getting even was hurting the other bloke even worse. Somehow, he always got away with it, too, until now. But Layla also said that even Major Pemberton couldn't say anything good about him, and that's telling you something."
"Who's Major Pemberton?" Steve asked.
"He's Layla's superior officer now, but before that, back when I was still in the Regiment, he was mine," John explained. "Apparently Cobb served under him for a while, too, until the major found a way to pass him off to somebody else."
Steve nodded, and John sighed. "All the good blokes get killed too early, and men like Cobb just go on and on and on …"
"Not all the good blokes," Steve said, and poked John gently in the chest. He smiled wistfully, and she smiled back.
"I wish I'd killed him in Nigeria," he said. "I wish I'd broken his neck. I always err on the side of compassion, and it always comes back to haunt me."
Steve put her arms around him and held him tightly, and he returned the hug, then remembered something else. "Layla also told me that my leg wasn't broken, just badly bruised, and I could be considered fit for duty in a few days."
"Oh," said Steve, pulling back a little to look up at him. "So you'll go off soon and rescue some other damsel in distress?"
"It could be a bloke," John said, and Steve tried to make a joke. "A "dam-sir" in distress, then?"
John snorted a little in appreciation of her attempt, which made Steve smile, too.
"It's your job, and don't tell me you haven't been looking forward to getting back," Steve told him. "I guess I've been concentrating too much on my own work, I never stopped to think that they might call you up right at Christmas time."
"They might not," John said. "I never know when they'll call."
"Well, if they do, it's because they want the best, and that's you." Steve poked him again, this time in the shoulder. "I just have to get used to being a military wife, I guess, missing you when you're gone, and celebrating when you come back."
She went back to hugging him as though practising for the celebration already, but after a moment, it was John's turn to pull back. "Alex doesn't think I know anything about rape. Do you think I should tell her, before I go?"
"I don't know." Steve shook her head slightly. "She's your daughter, Andy, you know her so much better than I do."
"I've hardly seen her these last eight or nine years," John mused. "I don't know if I know her at all."
"Are you afraid she'll think less of you?" Steve asked, cutting right to the chase, and John shrugged. "Yeah. I mean, she spent so many years despising me, and she's only just now seeing that maybe she doesn't have to be ashamed of me. I don't want to put that in jeopardy."
"She should be proud of you, John Porter," Steve said firmly. John blinked in surprise at her use of his full name, and she went on, "In Nigeria, you did what you had to do to fulfil your mission. We both got out alive, and even if we both got hurt, we're recovered now. We're stronger, and better, and … if I say faster, I'll sound like some kind of advertisement for vitamin pills or something."
John chuckled despite himself.
"And here, you followed your instincts and caught the man who hurt her. How could she despise you for that?"
"And what happens when I tell her that he only hurt her to get at me?" John asked. "When she finds out it all started with me, because of what I did?"
"You can't blame yourself for Cobb's personality," Steve said. "A better man would have accepted your apology."
John had to admit that was true. "But will Alex see it that way?"
"I don't know. But you know what's been worrying me more than that?" Steve went on. Before John could answer, she continued, "What if Cobb goes to trial and everything comes out in the press? Who knows what the journalists will dig up?"
"I never thought of that." John groaned. Kenwright Oil, the British Secret Service, and the Nigerian authorities had all managed between them to keep the whole hostage thing quiet, but it was going to be more difficult with this. Much more difficult.
"If Alex wakes up one morning and reads all about it in the newspapers, the first thing she'll ask is why you didn't mention this before. That might be worse than anything else," Steve pointed out.
"So I have to tell her."
"Tell me what?"
They both looked around to see Alex standing in the doorway, adjusting the sling that held her splinted arm firmly against her body.
"'Cause if you're worried that I'm going to find out from the newspapers that you're sleeping together, I already know," Alex said. She looked at them, sitting together on the sofa bed, and added, "It's, like, really obvious."
"I thought you were asleep," John said, reverting back to parent mode.
"I had a bad dream and I woke up," Alex replied. "I heard you talking, so I thought it might be safe to come out and get a drink."
"It's safe," Steve assured her, smiling a little in embarrassment even though Alex hadn't caught them at anything.
"Go get your drink," John said. "And then I've got something to tell you."
Alex gave them both a curious look as she walked to the kitchen. As soon as he heard the water running, John turned to Steve. "Will you help me explain it?"
"Of course," she said, and took his hand.
Alex came back in and sat down in the armchair, then looked at them expectantly. There was an awkward silence. In the military, John had learned that sometimes – most of the time – you just had to jump in and do things without thinking, and decided that this was one of those times.
"Alex," he said. "On my last mission … I was raped."
He told most of the story, with Steve speaking up only to clarify a few points. When they'd finished, John looked earnestly into Alex's face, waiting to see her reaction. She didn't say anything, but her shoulders had drooped, she'd hunched over a little, and she didn't meet his eyes. Was she ashamed? Had he made a grave mistake? If he had, it was too late now.
"I've been seeing a therapist," he finished. "It's really helped."
"And Lieutenant Thompson recommended the same therapist to me," Steve put in. "Like your father said, she's really good. We can give you the number and you can make an appointment for yourself if you like."
"Well, yeah, you'd need therapy after something horrific like that," Alex said, and there was a tone of angry contempt in her voice. "But since what I just went through is nothing in comparison …"
She stood up abruptly and stalked in the direction of the bedroom. John stared at her in shock, wondering where on earth all that had come from, but Steve leaped up and cut her off. "Alex, no, that is not true!"
"Yes, it is!" Alex hissed, but at least she didn't try to force her way through. She just stood there, staring down at the floor.
"What you went through is not nothing," Steve stated.
John got up, too. "Alex , we didn't tell you this to make you feel bad."
"No, you only told me because you were afraid it would come out in the papers!"
"I never thought that," John said, and Steve hastily added, "That was my worry."
John went on. "I just wanted you to know that I have an idea of what you're going through. I understand what it's like and if you ever need me …"
"His shoulder is very comfy to cry on," Steve said.
Rolling her eyes, Alex snapped, "I did not want to know that."
"Sorry, I didn't mean to be flippant. But just one more thing, Alex, and then I won't say any more." Steve reached out and touched Alex lightly on her good arm. "You have a right to your pain. No matter how much somebody else might have suffered, it doesn't affect you. It doesn't make whatever you've gone through any less. We're not in a competition here where only the winner gets to suffer! So don't you ever, ever feel that your pain is nothing or that you're not allowed to feel bad about what happened, because you are! You have just as much right as anybody else to feel hurt and angry and scared and sad, or whatever you want. Now. I'm going into the kitchen, and you – you take advantage of those rights!"
She gave them both a fierce look, then marched off, leaving John and Alex alone in the living room.
"You can blame me," John said. The words threatened to block his throat, but he pushed them out anyway. "You have the right … to hate me."
The anger and scorn drained from Alex's face, and she suddenly began to cry. John opened his arms in a hesitant invitation, and she stepped into his embrace, leaning her head against his shoulder. All too aware of her injured joints, John hugged her carefully, trying not to cause her any more pain, and she put her good arm around his waist.
Eventually, Alex stopped sobbing, detached herself from his arms, then looked up at him, blinking her tears away. "I don't know what I feel, Dad. I know I hate that man, I hate him, but other than that, I just don't know!"
"I hate him, too," John said, then tried to reassure her. "Alex, it doesn't matter what else you feel, it's all right. I understand."
"Maybe I should hate you, I don't know. Maybe I should hate myself," Alex said, her voice still ragged and shaky. "All those years when I didn't want to see you, and now … all I can think of is that, when he was twisting my arm, I knew that if I could just get my phone out and call you, you'd be there, you'd come help me."
Finding it even harder to speak this time, John was surprised at how husky his voice sounded when he finally did manage to reply. "I will, Alex, I will always do everything in my power to be there for you."
She sighed, then rubbed the side of her head with one hand. "I shouldn't cry so much, it makes my head ache."
"Do you want a painkiller?" John asked.
"I just took one," she said, then looked up at him. "You're crying, too, Dad. I've never seen you cry before."
Unable to deny the single drop of moisture that had escaped his eye, John gave her a sheepish half-smile. He reached out for another embrace, but their moment of closeness was over, and Alex flinched back. There was an uncomfortable moment of silence before Alex finally said, "I think I'll just go back to bed now."
"Sleep well, love," John said, and a second drop of moisture escaped his other eye.
"You, too, Dad."
They nodded awkwardly at each other, then Alex went off to the bedroom. John scrubbed the tears from his cheeks, then went into the kitchen. Steve had seated herself at the table and was pretending to flick through one of the vegetarian cookery books that she'd brought up from Margate for him, but stood up when he came in.
"Is she all right?" she asked.
"I don't know," John admitted. "Probably not. And I don't know if I can help her, either."
"I think you've already helped her as much as you can," Steve said. "And you and I both know that things like this take time, more time than a broken leg, or even a bullet wound."
John had to admit she was right.
"And now, speaking of time, we should get to bed before we freeze out here," Steve added, making him grin.
Once they had settled down and the lights were off, John felt his thoughts shift from his daughter to the other woman in his life. His sex drive had come back, as normal as ever, and he'd been wondering for a few days if he were ready to move on in their relationship. He couldn't imagine being intimate with anybody besides Steve, though, and even if there were problems, he was sure they could help each other through. The only thing he wasn't sure about was Steve and how she felt, but now, with the threat of him being called up at any time, it was time to find out. Trying to sound casual, he asked, "Are you still cold?"
"Yes," Steve exclaimed and made exaggerated shivering sounds.
"You can cuddle up next to me," he offered. "We can warm up together."
"Does that mean you're not hot?" she asked jokingly, and in the same teasing tone of voice, John replied, "Oh, I'm very hot."
Steve giggled a little as she scooted over and cuddled up. John put his arms around her, enjoying the feel of her body next to his, and Steve said, "You know what? You are, actually."
"And so are you," he said, still trying to sound casual.
"Funny that Alex thinks we're sleeping together," Steve said, which was exactly what John had been going to say. Was she leading up to the same thing he was? Before he could reply, however, she'd continued. "Technically, though, I guess we are."
Enough of the casual remarks, John thought. Time to switch to the army method of just going for it. "Steve, any time you want to make it more than just technical … "
"You mean like to-night?" she asked. Did she sound eager, or was she still teasing?
"Only if you want. I don't want to force you into doing anything you're not ready for," he said.
"I don't know if I'm ready or not," Steve said, and all hint of teasing had left her voice.
"We can stop at any time," John reassured her. "Any time, for any reason."
He reached up and carefully stroked her hair, half-expecting her to push him away, but she didn't. Instead, she slipped her hand under his T-shirt and began hesitantly to stroke his back.
"I think I'm ready to try," she whispered.
Just the fact that she was touching his bare skin was almost more arousing than if she'd gone straight for his pants, and John whispered back, "I'm ready to try, too."
Then he kissed her – very, very carefully.
The End
written February-July 2011