Andrew stared at the opposing wall. He’d already gotten further than he’d allowed himself to dream of and now…

Now he was in damned uncharted waters, with no damn lifejacket and fins poking up through the whitecaps.

“Here.” Cecilia had come in from the kitchen and now she handed him a mug. “You look like you could use this.” She sat down next to him with her own cup and cradled it in both hands, sipping at its contents in Eye of the Storm 155

silence.

Andrew tasted the liquid. Coffee, double strength with a ton of sugar. He had to pause a bit before he swallowed, to let the tightness in his throat relax. “Nobody ever made this like you.” He looked at her, watching her hands tighten on the cup she held. “Cec—”

“You know,” Cecilia interrupted him softly, “part of me wants to know…what happened. Where you’ve been…”

He lowered his gaze.

“But there’s another part of me that doesn’t. That part of me just wants to sit here and look at you…and touch you...and…” She had to stop and breathe. “And somehow make myself believe you’re here,” her voice cracked, “and it doesn’t have to hurt anymore.”

Somehow, he got his cup and her cup on the table before a drop spilled, then captured her hands.

Still in silence.

What could he say?

Ceci took a moment, then bit her trembling lip. “After they came and told me…” She paused and swallowed. “I didn’t know what to do. I felt like I was breaking apart into a thousand different pieces. Everything I did, everything I saw…” Her eyes closed. “It was like laying my heart on glass shards.” The tears ran her face again and Andrew moved closer, sliding one arm around her for support.

She caught her breath. “I finally realized that the only way I’d survive it is to…” She looked around mutely.

“Ditch the memories?” Andrew supplied.

“No.” She scrubbed away fresh tears. “Just hide them.” She sighed.

“Take away everything I’d known before. Just…lock out that part of me.”

“Even Dar?”

The gray eyes went bleak. “Especially Dar,” Ceci whispered. “Andy.

I’m sorry. I know I was wrong to do that. I know how much it must have hurt.” She cradled her head. “How much it hurt me knowing how you’d feel about me doing that. I knew how you felt about her.” She gasped. “I just didn’t have a choice. I couldn’t…stand the pain…and it was the only w-way.”

Andrew gently pulled her head over and tucked it against his chest, stroking the silver blonde hair in silent grief. “Ceci, I’m sorry,” he finally rasped. “I’da torn my guts out before I’d have done that to you.”

She huddled against him. “Then why did you?” she whispered.

Andrew closed his eyes. “That thing I had to go for wasn’t for what you thought it was. Wasn’t for what everybody knew.” He drew a breath in. “Was a place…had a squad of twenty two men stuck in it. Place I’d been to way back. Team I was with...I was the only one still kicking.”

Ceci lifted her head and looked at him. His face tensed in pain.

“Twenty two of ’em, Ceci,” his voice held a helpless, lost note, “came to me, and I…traded them twenty-two souls for mine.” He stopped for a long moment. “And I did, ’cept they caught on coming out and somebody had to hold ’em.” He blinked and an errant bit of water emerged. “And I 156 Melissa Good thought,” the pitch dropped very low, “there weren’t nothing for me to go back to.”

Cecilia went still.

“So they got me.”

A soft moan.

“And they tried their damndest on me, but a man’s gotta care about somethin’ for you t’do that and I didn’t.” Andy’s whole face twitched. “I cursed ’em for not trying harder.” He paused. “Five and some damn years. ’Bout the only thing kept me half sane was thinking of you.” His voice softened. “Wishin’ things were different,” he whispered. “Hurtin’

that we parted mad.”

Cecilia gave a shuddering gasp. “Andy, I’m so sorry. I didn’t mean what I said.”

“Yeah. Me neither.” He sighed. “Anyhow, guess I was just too damn stubborn in the end. One day stuff got loud, next thing I knew, I was on a boat headed home.” There was an awkward pause. “They patched me up best they could…set me loose.”

She lifted her head and looked him in the eye. “I told you I wouldn’t be there if you came back.”

He nodded silently.

“You believed me.”

Hesitantly, he blinked. “Didn’t have the guts to find out one way or t’other.” He stopped and closed his eyes. “Didn’t want to know if you hadn’t.”

“I was…just trying to get you to stay,” Ceci whispered. “I would have waited my whole life for you.” She buried her face in his sweatshirt.

“I’ve missed you so much.”

Andrew let his chin rest against her soft hair. “Same here.”

They were quiet for a while, as the tension eased and the air cleared.

“Andy?” Cecilia murmured, after a bit.

“Mmm?”

“I’m…very tired…of hurting,” she said slowly. “And I can’t change what happened.”

“No.”

“Can we just start again?” She searched his face intently. “Please?”

His head tilted slightly as he thought, intense blue eyes drinking her in with characteristic seriousness. “I do think I’d like that,” he finally said, lacing his fingers in hers. “Let’s do it.”

So. Ceci felt numb and a little nauseous from the stress, and she had a headache that would fell Picasso at forty paces.

It felt wonderful. But she was totally exhausted and she suspected Andy probably was too. “I don’t think I can remember the last time I stayed up this late,” she murmured, eyeing the clock on the mantel.

Andrew regarded her soberly. “Why doncha g’wan…” He nodded towards the bedroom. “I’ll be fine out here. I…um…” He stopped awkwardly. “Go on.”

Maybe it was best, Ceci reflected. They had time and it would take time to Eye of the Storm 157

readjust to…everything. To each other. Andy was right not to push things.

She didn’t budge.

They eyed each other and suddenly, shy smiles appeared on both their faces. “You know something, Andy?”

“What?”

“Seven years is long enough to sleep alone. Come keep me company.” She squeezed the hand still tangled with hers. “Or I’ll be up and peeking out here all night to see if you’re still around.”

His lips twitched. “All right,” Andy drawled softly. “Hope I don’t move round too much on yer.”

Cecilia stood and very gently pulled at him. “I’m so tired you could do calisthenics and it probably wouldn’t bother me.”

“Not hardly,” he muttered, as he stood, lifted the bag Kerry had gotten him, and followed Ceci into the bedroom. He set the bag down and regarded it. “S’pose that green eyed gal remembered some jammies.” He glanced around at the almost painfully neat room with its austere fabric and crisply made bed.

Ceci tilted her head. “That’s not yours?”

“Didn’t have time to pack.” Andrew unlatched the bag, pulled the zipper open and poked inside curiously. “Lord.” He took out a pair of pale blue pajama shorts with a darker blue pattern.

“What…are…oh.” Ceci muffled a laugh. “They’re seals.” She fingered the fabric, which did, indeed, have little dark blue seals on it.

“Would that be Dar’s friend Kerry?”

He scowled a little. “Yeah. Got some kinda sense of humor, I’ll tell ya that.” He investigated further, finding a small shaving kit and other bathroom articles, a towel, several neatly folded sweatshirts, and two pairs of jeans.

And underwear. Andrew’s eyebrows lifted as he removed a pair of burgundy silk boxers. “Jesus H. Christ.”

Ceci clapped a hand over her mouth, as a burst of hysterical laughter threatened to escape. “Well, she’s got good taste.”

Andrew muttered something under his breath and pulled the pajamas out, then turned towards the bathroom, stopping when a hand touched his arm. “Yeah?”

“Since when are you shy?” Ceci tugged at the sweatshirt.

The low light in the bedroom turned his pale eyes a dim gray. He studied her for a long set of heartbeats. “Lotta marks on me. Aren’t real nice to look at,” he told her honestly.

“And your point would be what, exactly?” Cecilia inquired.

He was silent, then handed her the pajamas and pulled his sweatshirt off, which he folded with automatic precision and tucked it into the side pocked of the bag.

Cecilia bit the inside of her lip, but made no comment, looking with pained eyes at the burn marks and criss crossing scars that covered his chest. A jagged tear ran from the point of one shoulder down to his hip, so recently healed she could see the still visible marks of the suture scars.


158 Melissa Good She handed him the pajama shirt, then ran her fingertips over his ribs.

He put the shirt on without comment, then finished undressing as she did the same, ending up face to face with her in front of the bed. They linked hands and pulled the blankets down together in comfortable silence, then crawled under them.

Ceci lay curled on her side watching the strong profile outlined in the faint light from the window, too tired even to cry anymore. There would be tomorrow for that, and the day after, and the day after. Until her mind readjusted to this wonderful new reality and the feeling of bleak emptiness she’d felt for so long became as distantly remembered as the sense of peaceful joy she now felt had been before tonight.

She closed her eyes, then opened them after a moment, to see him looking back at her. She squeezed his hand and smiled, and even in the dark, saw the movement as he smiled back. Ceci closed her eyes again and left them shut, finding herself in the unfamiliar position of looking forward to the morning.