SIXTEEN

They were not talking.  For fuck's sake!  How could a professional negotiator find himself in that situation?  Well, he supposed that wasn't entirely true.  The lines of communication were open.... if you considered his monosyllabic grunts and her frosty replies 'talking'.

She'd spent the last few days moping and dripping about like some pathetic parody of a bad Russian opera.  He'd been choosing to work late at the office instead of coming home.  No surprise there.  Not only was she stubborn to a fault, she held grudges longer than anyone he'd ever met. 

Tonight he'd arrived home to find the apartment cold and dark.  He'd retaliated by tossing the wilted bouquet of yellow flowers that Cullen had dropped by into the trash.  Part of him felt like a shit for doing it.  The other part of him felt like he should have tossed them out when she'd first told him who they were from.  But he wasn't that insecure, was he?

Sighing, he dropped into his chair and looked at his watch.  He knew she wasn't working tonight.... so where the hell was she?  Was she with someone?  More importantly, was she safe?  Digging out his cell, he flipped though the menu in an annoyed rush, hit her name and pressed send.

She didn't answer.

Frowning at the flower stems poking out of the trash, an unpleasant thought occurred to him.  On a whim he called Cullen, whose phone was also switched off... something his crew was not normally supposed to do. 

He poured himself another scotch and scrubbed a hand over his face.  Both phones off.  Coincidence?  Sipping his drink, he mulled it over.  He could tell she'd been attracted to that shit Murphy.  Was this her chance to get some complex revenge?  He wasn't even sure if she was sophisticated enough to think like that.  She was unsatisfied with her private life.  Hell, so was he.... but there was also the matter of Uma's rude little departure and her subsequent public comeback, both of which had hit Heather hard.  And then he'd gone and rubbed it in....

He turned the velvet box that contained the ring he'd bought for her over and over in his fingers to torture himself a bit more.  It was possible he was reading more into this than he should, but all his doubts had come back full force and he just couldn't quiet that niggling part of his brain that wondered if maybe she'd finally tired of being the 'good girl' who did everything she was supposed to do (to the detriment of her own wants - and his as well).  Maybe she'd decided to be bad and to take something for herself?  The thought infuriated him.  She was only supposed to be bad with him.  It scared him too.  Had he already lost her and just didn't know it yet?        

Carefully replacing the ring box in his dresser, he finally decided to go to bed.  There was no use waiting up for her.  He didn't know what he'd say to her anyway.  And he knew from personal experience the long silent hours of the night were often times the hardest to get through.  He just had to make it until dawn.  Everything always seems better in the morning...

Only in the morning, things went from bad to worse and he spent another long evening at work, replaying the day's conversations in his mind.

He'd run into Cullen at work.

"I called you last night.  Your phone was off."

"Went to a movie...."

 

Which didn't mean anything.... except when paired with the little bomb Heather had dropped on him over another of their frosty breakfasts.

"Where were you last night, honey?

"Movie."

 

Fucking perfect.  Once again, it could mean nothing... or it could mean everything.  

He didn't resist the urge to stop for a drink on the way home.  This whole thing rested on perceptions - right or wrong.  He just wasn't sure if he trusted his own judgment anymore and he wasn't at all sure how something so damned good had gotten so completely screwed up.     

SEVENTEEN

So, it had come down to this, had it?  The frost between them had finally been melted..... by the heat of yet another fiery argument.  And by the look of things, it was about to go nuclear.  The gloves had finally come off and neither of them were about to back down.   

Uma. Uma. Uma!  He was sick of hearing about her leaving.  But what irritated him more was the fact that he knew he was going to get what he wanted now... Heather would come to New York with him.... but only by default.... which wasn't what he really wanted at all.  He wanted her to want to go with him.  To choose it instead of it simply being the last option left after everyone else had already chosen what they wanted.  Getting it this way was like having to ask for an apology.  It didn't mean diddlyfuck unless it came of the other person's own free will. 

It hurt.  And it made him mad enough to really let it rip.

"Christ... can't we have one conversation without you dragging the past into it?  Complaining about it isn't going to do anyone of good!  Bring something constructive to the table for once instead of wanting me to have all the answers while you do all the whining."  

"So I'm not allowed to have feelings now?  Well too damned bad for you.  Unlike some people, I just can't switch them off... And here's an answer for you.  I hate feeling like this, Dean... like everything I do is wrong and that no matter what I choose, I'm going to let someone down."   

"Well, it seems like your little girlfriend didn't have any trouble working it out, honey.  She gave it all up for love." 

"Gee, now where have I heard that before?"  

"Just once put me first.  Is that really too much to ask?"  

"So I'm just supposed to give up my life to be your mistress?  Andy's offering her a life, a partnership, a purpose....  What are you offering me besides raunchy sex and as much leather as I can force myself into?"

"I'm offering ME.  I guess that isn't enough, huh?"

"But you haven't!  You have never once offered me that.  Not once!  Meanwhile, I've done nothing but offer myself to you.  Hell, I offered it to you at eighteen and it wasn't enough for you then either.  So don't you dare make this about me!"

"And don't you dare to try to turn this around on me.  I'm not the one who's confused about what they want.  Or who they want."  

"Just what the hell is that supposed to mean?"

"Where were you last night?"

"Out."  She couldn't believe what he was implying.  She was the one who always did what she should.... not to mention putting up with his working life, which she knew included a lot of lonely nights spent away from her in dive bars filled with cheap women.

His jaw clenched.  "Did you meet a man?"

The fire in her eyes flared dangerously.  He was going to take her to task for her behavior?  Fuck him.  "Yes."  Let him think what he liked.  She didn't care.  Or maybe she did.  Maybe she wanted him to think the worst.  To hurt him like he made her hurt.  

"Who?"  He could feel a dangerous red haze begin to creep in, obliterating the last of his strained control.

"None of your damned business."  She looked him right in the eye, hoping he would think the worst.  How dare he?  She didn't ask him for an accounting of his time, even when he was gone for weeks on end.  Her hands curled into fists and she felt an overwhelming urge to scratch that bitter accusatory look off his face.

The hell it wasn't his business.  "So what am I to you then?  Just the guy who shows the good little girl how to be bad?"  He moved in closer to her and rubbed one finger menacingly down her slender neck.  The soft gesture scared her more than a rough physical blow would have.  Something inside him snapped.  "Or maybe I'm just the daddy you never had?"

He could tell she wanted to slap him.  The blow she gave him was worse.  "Maybe you're just the bastard I fuck!"

"You mean the meal-ticket you fuck, don't you, honey?"  His low voice was nasty and cut like a razor.  

She was shaking her head in disbelief; two red spots of color appeared high on her pale cheeks.  "You're even more fucked up than I thought.  God, how did I ever think this could work?"  She pushed her fingers into her hair and pulled in frustration.  "I am half owner of a profitable business, you ass!  You know, the business you HATE because it keeps me from your precious New York?" 

"And here I was thinking you were keeping yourself from coming with me.  Convenient to blame the business, though.  Trite and uninspired, but convenient.  But I guess that's what I should have expected."

"So now I'm not just on the prowl for a new sugar daddy - or as perfect and virtuous a woman as St. Uma who screws over her friends to follow her man to the end of the earth - but I'm also trite and stupid?  It's a wonder with all those flaws of mine that you ever decided to look me up after Gen died." She could tell from the stricken look on his face that she'd gone to far but she just couldn't stop and there was no way she could take it back now.  She wasn't even sure she wanted to take it back.  "Maybe you'd have been happier clinging to those sad old memories of her than subjecting yourself to an uninspired gold-digger like me." 

"Maybe you're right."  

For a moment there was sheer anguish on his face and then a mask seemed to slam down over his features.  His eyes went cold and hard and he turned and walked out without another word.

EIGHTEEN

He'd never had a negotiation blow up quite so spectacularly before.  But then again, it hadn't really been much of a negotiation to begin with.  At least enough time had passed that he could see that now.  He wasn't quite sure what to make of that.  He did not lose control like that.... especially with women and most especially with her.  He was as appalled by what she'd said to him as by what he'd said back.  How dare she throw Gen in his face?  And what was he thinking throwing Gen straight back? 

Alone in a smoky club filled with wizened old black men with white hair who played the best jazz in the city, he sat in the shadows trying to make sense of it all.  It wasn't easy.  He was still angry at her.  Apparently she really had been with Cullen.  He'd though she was simply pushing his buttons.  He was disappointed in her too.  How could she not think he wanted to spend the rest of his life with her?  He'd been using words like Home and Family and Forever with her for nearly a year now and he'd had the ring for more than six months. 

That thought brought him up short.  Had it really been so long?  A prickle of shame or dread - or both - curled low through his belly.  Apparently he was stupid enough to make the same mistake twice.  He'd waited with Gen too, thinking they had all the time in the world... and look how that had turned out.  It was suddenly funny in a macabre sort of way.  All of this could have been avoided if he'd just brought out the ring and asked her earlier. 

So why hadn't he?  

That question wasn't quite so easy to answer.  And he damn sure wasn't going to ask her anytime soon, partly because he still had some serious doubts (which had only been strengthened by her cruel taunts about meeting other men) and partly because he knew it would seem as cheap and meaningless now as her decision to come to New York had been for him.  Neither of them wanted to feel like they'd had to beg for the other person to want to be with them.  Funny how they both wanted it to be the other person's choice- while resisting giving that very thing themselves.   

Alone in her small room above the pub, Heather was sitting on the floor by the bed with a half empty bottle of wine, trying to work things out in her head in much the same was as her lover across town.  His insinuation about being her meal ticket had infuriated her.  She didn't need his damned money or his grand gestures.  Sure it was fun to dress up and go out, but mostly she did those things because he liked them.  She'd loved him way back when he was a stupid skinny marine with holes in his socks and bad taste in cheap pina coladas.

For all her whimsy, however, she was far more prone to thinking the worst.  Of the two of them, he'd always been the optimist.  He called her the pessimist.  She preferred realist.  What would her life be like without him?  Untangling their commingled finances would be a nightmare in itself.  Both of them had long ago given up thinking in terms of 'mine' and 'yours'.  Now it was only 'ours'.  And then there was all the banal practical stuff that he did for her that she'd have to go back to doing for herself.  He put gas in her car, kept up on all the maintenance, brought in the groceries, checked out those scary noises that went bump in the night...

There were dozens of things, now that she put her mind to it.  He did so many little things to make her life easier; things he never expected to be thanked for.  Things, much to her shame, that she never even noticed until now.  And once she'd exhausted that list in her mind, she was ready to face what it would really mean not to have him in her life.  Not just the little things... but the big things.  The emotional things.  Knowing him, loving him, had changed her forever.  How could she go back to the way it was before?  Losing the spark of him from her life would be like cutting out the best parts of herself.  It was hard to imagine it had come to this.  They'd never stayed mad at each other so long.  Was it really the end?

The hardest part for her was screwing up the courage to be the one to make the first move.  Always before, he'd been the bigger person, the one who was the first to approach her, even when the argument had been her fault.  For some reasons she couldn't quite understand, he'd always been the bigger person and she'd always let him.  But then, they'd always been bad about letting the other take advantage of their weaknesses. 

The hardest part for him was waiting for her to make the first move.  He picked up his phone a hundred times, only to put it back down again.  Things needed to change.  He needed to stop looking at her as if she was that naïve young girl, no matter how much he liked that familiar image.  Thinking of her that way gave him a thrill but the truth was she was nearly thirty.  He needed to stop treating her with kid gloves... and he needed to stop shielding her from the rudenesses of life; especially those that took their toll on him.  

It was a two way street.  She needed to stop letting him take control because it was easy.  She needed to assert herself more and to realize he didn't have all the answers just because he was older and more experienced.  Sometimes he needed her to be the strong one.  However much they both liked the stereotypical image in their mind of the other, they needed to strip away enough of that manufactured construct to see the real person underneath.  And it was high time they both started treating each other like adults.  Their history had paved the way to a very unique and intimate relationship... but it also came with some pitfalls the average relationship didn't have.  Add to that two volatile passionate temperaments.....  Frankly, it was amazing it had taken so long for things to go nuclear.

She was the first to reach out, for once.  And he didn't apologise first, for once.  They met on neutral ground, a quiet little patisserie that smelled of sugary spice and rich dark espresso.  Afterwards, they took a long walk and talked about Family and Home and Forever... and they finally talked openly about marriage and children and moving and the future in a way that was both frightening and also somehow settling to them both.  By the time they returned to his apartment, most of their doubts had been laid to rest. 

All except one.

And it was a doozie.

She made tea for them.  He stood in the doorway, watching her slender fingers perform the mundane task.  She knew just how he liked it.  Even which cup was his favorite.  He couldn't imagine letting another woman know him so intimately.  It made the coming question even harder to ask... but for once, he didn't shy away from it or swallow it down.  She had taunted him with meeting another man and he intended to have the truth from her, unpleasant or not. 

"So, honey, about that night you said you met a man....."  She looked up.  He steeled himself.  "What do you think of Murphy?"

An embarrassed smile touched her eyes.  She hadn't been with Cullen.  She'd been with Terry.  Who better to discuss Uma's leaving and how it had hit her than someone who would understand completely?  So she'd called him up.  He'd just said 'Come on... let's go to the movies'.  They'd seen something completely juvenile and mindless.  Chicken Little. 

The sky has fallen in!

That had amused Terry.  Her too.  And by the time the evening was over, he'd helped her see that maybe the sky hadn't fallen in quite the way she'd thought. 

Her embarrassed smile deepened.  "Actually, it wasn't Cullen.  It was Terry."

"What?"  Dino looked completely stunned.

"We shared a bucket of popcorn in a theater full of little kids.  He kept throwing popcorn at the screen.  The kids joined in.  I thought we were going to get thrown out."

Dino just shook his head in disbelief.  Part of him wanted to be angry at her for misleading him so terribly but the relief he felt that she hadn't been with Murphy was eclipsing everything else.  He also thought, with some amusement, that perhaps he needed to rethink his opinion of her.  She was definitely sophisticated enough to play mind games as a form of revenge.  Perhaps she wasn't quite as naïve as he once imagined.  It was just a front she affected with him, much the way he affected one with her too.  "So, you didn't...."

She shook her head.  "No.  Nobody got a blow in the dark, Burrito.  Well, unless you count the bubbles in my Coke..."  Her teasing voice grew serious.  "Besides, that's not my style anyway.  I respect you too much.  If I was going to leave you, I'd tell you to your face."

In every negotiation, there is always one critical point.  A watershed.  And this was it.

"So, are you going to leave?"

EPILOGUE

She looked up at him from between the mountain of boxes that still cluttered their airy New York loft.  He'd just bounded in with another load and was grinning down at her.  She was up to her elbows in the box that held all his underwear.

"That's a good look on you, honey...."

She chucked a pair of ratty boxers at his head.  "Don't tempt me, Burrito.  Most of these would be better suited as cleaning rags...."

He snatched them out of the air and brandished them at her in mock horror.  "Bite your tongue!  I'll have you know SpongeBob is a classic!"  

Her giggle was cheeky.  "Well, you'd know aaaaalllllllll about that, wouldn't you?"  For a moment he looked smug... until she added, "... along with 8-tracks... and vinyl albums... and-"

His flying tackle knocked over three boxes and sent them both sprawling across the unmade bed.  There was a crash.  He laughed harder as another box tipped over and their collection of sex toys spilled out onto the floor. 

"Ohmygod!"  She hid her face against his throat.  

He had to admit, it did look pretty rude.  Bottles of erotic oils and lotions had rolled all over.  Phallic objects peeked from between silk scarves and blindfolds.  Wisps of supple leather were tangled with a pair of handcuffs.  None of the accoutrements of their rather adventurous sex life embarrassed him, but he loved the way they always made her blush.  And they looked especially blush-worthy at the moment, spread out across the hardwood floor in the stark sunshine.  One fleshy protuberance was still jiggling slightly and a heavy chrome cockring had rolled into a place of prominence on the naked sun-splashed floor and settled there with a metallic plink.

The sight of it all made him pensive as he thought about how they'd both hidden from each other - and from themselves - in erotic sexplay.  The items in the box still got a bit of use now and again, but it was different now.  A joining rather than an escape. 

She giggled under him and he smiled into her mouth as they kissed.  His blue eyes danced warmly as he pulled back and stared down into her upturned face.  He didn't say it but he could tell they both felt it.  They'd missed that.  Not just laughing in bed with each other but just being together, connecting intimately and feeling nothing but joy.   

He rubbed his stubbly cheek against hers.  She smiled back and cupped his strong jaw in her chin, squirming at the rough raspy feel.  He so rarely didn't shave.  One of his little vanities.  There was a lot of gray mixed in with the red.  She loved it.  And that he let her see it. 

Their kisses became deeper.  He reveled in it, in reading the subtleties of her response; a smile against his mouth when he swirled his tongue against hers, a shiver when he nibbled her jaw and throat, a soft moan that he swallowed when he pressed her down into the soft mattress.  An excited thrill shot through him when her grip on his wide shoulders changed from simple pressure to the slight sting of her nails. 

He responded in the same language, squeezing the round flesh of her backside harder, pulling her into him and raking his nails lightly over her skin.  Their clothing disappeared.  So did the rest of the world.  She sighed.  He panted.  Soft grunts and moans and the gentle squeaking of new springs filled the room.  He filled her. 

That was how it was supposed to be.  It was that silent instinctive intimacy that they'd missed- and no sex toy in the world could make up for what they shared on their sun-dappled bed that languid afternoon. 

"That's it, honey... wrap me up safe.... let me feel you come...."

"Deeper... fill me up... God, love you so much...love-"  

"Safe....safe.... safesafesafe......"

She came, sweaty and trembling, staring up into his hooded blue eyes.  His eyes were open too as he poured himself into her in thick streams of love.  She gave them back to him later as they trickled out over the thigh he had between her legs where they'd nestled together in the warm sun.

He kissed the tip of her nose.

She idly played with his mussed red hair.

"Well, that's one room down....."

"I need food before we christen the rest.... Chinese... and you better not eat all the peppers this time...."      

THE FIRST OF EIGHTEEN DAYS OF WINTER.....

Dino.  Terry.  Cullen.  At a bar on the far side of the world celebrating a job well done.  And enough shouts had come and gone that they were all free and easy....

Dino necked his bottle.  "Okay.  Last movie you saw..."

Cullen lit up and blew out a stream of blue smoke.  "Doom."  They both pulled faces at his juvenile choice.  

"Christ.  Not enough guns and explosions for you in real life, mate?"  

Cullen just shrugged.  They both looked at Terry.  "Your turn, pal..."     

Terry grinned.  "Chicken Little."  He ignored their clucking.  "You?"

Dino's eyes twinkled.  "It's A Wonderful Life."  They both snorted.  "And I cried, too.  Never fails....."

Cullen slapped his back with chuckle.  "Sad, man... really sad.....I bet you-"  Just as he was about to fire the next volley, he fell silent.  A waitress had just delivered a bouquet of white lilies to their table.

Terry held up his hands.  It wasn't any of his doing.... though he wished he'd been in on it.  

Dino took another pull off his beer and looked at Cullen.  "Well, go ahead, sunshine..... It's your name on the fucking card....."

Cullen's thick fingers fished out the card and tore it open.  His sharp eyes flicked over the message inside and then he burst out laughing.  "Fuck you too, ya cunt..."

Dino was smiling amiably but the look in his eyes was anything but playful.  Cullen got the message.  Enough said.  The tense moment passed and was quickly replaced by that easy camaraderie that men have after a tough assignment.  Dino sat back in his chair and smirked.  "And if you ever come near her again...."  He paused, smiling wider.  "I'll put you on Thorne's crew.... and then you'll really be fucked...."

Terry chucked the bouquet at Dino who raised a finger at him on the sly.

Cullen just shook his head at the both of them.  "I hear you.  Loud and clear, Boss."  He stabbed his cigarette butt down the neck of his bottle and called for another shout.  "Now, where's this pub you two were talking about...... The Come On Inn?  Fucking great name, by the way.... Sounds like my kind of place.... now tell me more...."