BURDEN OF AUTHORITY
BY: DANI

Sanctuary

    Somewhat cautiously, Lady Jaye approached the door. It had been two weeks since Flint rescued her from that dark Cobra cell… two weeks since they had foiled Cobra's plot to infect the world… two weeks since she'd been able to say anything but a polite and hopeful "hello" to the man who had been her salvation. Since their return, Flint had been incredibly distant, almost as though he was making a conscious effort to avoid her. She had made numerous attempts to approach him ­ to talk to him ­ to find out what the hell was going on, but he always seemed to have some excuse… some pressing engagement to attend.

    Well… Lady Jaye wasn't one to be put off so easily. She was almost certain that somewhere underneath that rough exterior, beneath the façade cloaked with rank and authority, were emotions and feelings that for one reason or another he wasn't letting himself see. And for a brief moment she thought perhaps the door to those emotions had finally been opened… that wonderful moment when he had rescued her from that Cobra cell… the moment when they had embraced…she was certain she had felt something in him released; but that moment was gone and if that door had been latched shut again, she was certainly going to find out why.

    She stood in front of his door for a few moments, contemplating exactly what she would say, how she would broach the subject of his feelings without making him turn away again. Mustering all the strength she had within her, she took a deep breath and knocked.

* * * * * * * *

    Flint stared blankly at the tomato soup bubbling on the stove. It had reached the boiling point nearly 5 minutes ago, but Flint had barely noticed it. All he could think about was that damn mission and his incredibly inane lapse in judgment. And as his mind vaguely registered the popping of the now frothing red mixture on his stove, his mind began reeling… he could hear the gunshots, feel the confusion, sense the necessity of the situation, but the only image he could summon was that of his battered and defeated form lying on the cold concrete and the shadow of Destro's visage disappearing into the darkness. One of the biggest opportunities he'd ever had and he'd blown it. And for what? A woman!? He almost shuddered at the thought. The pain of that moment permeated his soul to the point that it was almost tangible; he could almost feel the burning pain of his failure and gross embarrassment searing his skin.

    It was the burning of flesh that brought him back to reality. The pot on the stove was boiling over, sending an almost gelatinous paste of curdling red liquid spewing from the pot, splattering across the counter, the range, and Flint's hands.

    "AH! SON OF A BITCH!" He yelled, sending the spoon he had been using flying across the kitchen. Shaking his hands in pain, he scurried to the sink and thrust his hands under the faucet.

    "Dumb Ass," he mumbled to himself as the pain began to subside. Yet another lapse in focus related to his thoughts about Lady Jaye. When was this torment going to end?

    As if to add to his annoyance and the confusion of the scene, just as he was lifting the pot of burnt soup from the burner, there was a knock at his door.

* * * * * * * *

    Flint groaned inwardly as he opened the door… of all the people to show up… and now of all times! The irony of the situation was incredible and the silence that permeated the air as he stared blankly at the figure in the doorway was almost as thick as the tomato soup that had just exploded in his kitchen. He'd been avoiding this confrontation for weeks, and now it appeared she had picked the worst possible time to take the initiative. His irritation must have shown on his face for he noticed her warm and welcoming smile change to that of a worried and insecure smirk.

    "Flint…" she broke the silence with a voice that attempted to exude confidence and compassion but clearly evidenced her nervousness in its wavering tone, "we need to talk."

    He simply stared at her. She looked so vulnerable… so innocent… so emotionally hurt and confused, and in that moment, his anger and annoyance began to dissipate; he had an overwhelming urge to take her into his arms and comfort her, protect her, but his rational side kicked in as the throbbing of his hand reminded him of the reality of the situation. Well… if he was going to set things straight, now was as good a time as any.

    "Yes," he responded, attempting to sound as distant and impartial as possible, "we do." He stepped aside, holding the door open for her and taking a deep breath he escorted her inside.

    Walking past the open kitchen doorway, Flint noticed the inquisitive look on Lady Jaye's face as she surveyed the damage. Of all times… he thought again.

    "I, uh, had a little accident," he tried to explain embarrassedly.

    "I guess so," she chuckled, grinning in a tone that conveyed a touch of sarcasm coupled with a warmth of familiarity; although she'd only been in Flint's quarters once before, she felt an incredible sense of comfort here, even under these circumstances. But given the disaster in the kitchen, she began to wonder if this was the right time to confront him. She needed Flint to be honest with himself if this was going to work out the way she wanted, and to do that he needed to be in a calm and comfortable state of mind. Right now he appeared stressed, irritated, and tense… not a great combination to achieve her goals.

    "If this is a bad time…" she began, trailing off.

    "Not at all," he responded cordially. "Can I get you something to drink?" He was trying to act like a gracious host… a commanding officer who was simply being a gentleman to his female inferior. That's the relationship they needed to have, one that acknowledged the military hierarchy and the mutual respect and distance that their ranks within that hierarchy dictated. Unfortunately, he was having enough trouble assimilating that view in his own mind… how was he going to convince her if he couldn't even convince himself?

    `What's the strongest stuff you have?' Lady Jaye wanted to respond. She was gradually beginning to lose her nerve and was at a total loss as to how to approach him. If she was correct in her gut feelings that he really wanted her, how was she going to get him to admit it to himself? Maybe that was the problem… maybe he had admitted it to himself and the prospect just scared him… she knew he had issues with rank and proper conduct and she understood those concerns, in fact she shared them. She honestly felt that the feelings she had for Flint were worth the risk; she'd never felt this way about anyone and she hoped that it was within her power to convince him that his own feelings were worth the risk too.

    "A glass of water would be perfect," she finally replied.

    Moments later he returned with a glass for her and nothing for himself.

    "Would you like to sit down," he motioned toward the couch… that same couch where he had once come so close to kissing her…so close to throwing all inhibition and better judgment aside. But this situation was different. He was focused on his purpose. He had to end this. Now.

* * * * * * * *

    Lady Jaye had a feeling that if she let Flint take control of this conversation, it would end in disaster, at least for her, so she took the initiative. She needed to be forceful yet compassionate. She needed to show him that she understood his misgivings, but that she was determined that they could work through it. If she showed the slightest hesitation… the smallest inkling that she didn't think this could work, Flint would have all the ammunition he needed. Her intention was to prove to him that the gun that he felt was loaded with authority, responsibility, tact, and proper conduct was in reality full of blanks.

    "Flint…" she contemplated carefully how she was going to begin this discussion. She decided to go for the throat. "Why did you head up that rescue mission?"

    "What?" He was clearly shocked with her blunt opener. What exactly did she want him to admit? That it was for her? That his feelings and concerns for her safety had been at the heart of the mission? Of course they were… that was the problem.

    "You, Flint," she explained with a voice that expressed that she already knew the answer, "why did YOU conceive, organize, plan, and implement a mission that's sole purpose was to rescue me?"

    He knew exactly where she was going with this and he wasn't about to give her the satisfaction, let alone admit to something that would expose his vulnerabilities. "You were captured in Cairo under my command. It was my responsibility… my duty to make sure that all members of my team made it back. I would have done the same for any teammate captured under my command." He hoped that sounded convincing because he knew there was no truth in that statement.

    "Is that so?" she countered. "Flint… why do you insist on always displaying this façade? I think I know you pretty well… at least well enough to know that you're lying through your teeth."

    "Excuse me?" He tried to sound like a commanding officer that was outraged at a disrespectful comment by an inferior, but instead he sounded sheepish and exposed. He could feel his heart pounding in his chest; what was he nervous about? He needed to take back command of this situation. But as he opened his mouth to discredit her argument, she cut him off.

    "There have been a few times, Flint, when I honestly thought I had seen the real you. When I could finally see through this exterior clouded with rank and authority and see a man I thought had feelings for me." She paused just long enough for the words to sink in but not long enough for him to respond. "That night… right here…" she inched closer to him on the couch, "you wanted to kiss me, didn't you?"

    She stared deeply into his eyes; he could feel the emotion and hope within that stare. He met her eyes, only momentarily and then was forced to look away before he responded. He rose from the couch and began pacing, "I… I'm not sure what I want, Lady Jaye. What do you want me to tell you? That I'm attracted to you? That I worry about you? That I have feelings for you?" He paused. He turned to face her again. She was on the edge of the couch, looking up at him expectantly. "Well I do. That's the problem."

    She rose to meet him, still having to look up into his eyes, she grabbed his hand and pulled him towards her. "Oh, Flint," she sighed, "it's not a problem… at least not one that we can't solve." She tried to pull him even closer, into an embrace, but he was immovable. "Flint… please… what are you afraid of?"

    Afraid? Fear? Had it really come down to that? He broke away from her and turned to sit at the other end of the couch. Putting his head in his hands, he tried regain his composure. "You want to know what I'm afraid of?" he raised his head to look at her. "Look at me. I… I can't be an effective commanding officer if I'm constantly thinking about you… worrying about you. Don't you get it? I blew it! I had Destro in my hands and I let him escape… because of you. My concentration wavered… my focus lapsed because of you… because I was worried about you. I can't risk that anymore. I can't take the chance that my feelings for you will cloud my judgment… I couldn't live with myself if… if… I just can't do this, Lady Jaye." He turned from her as if symbolically, by diverting his gaze he could somehow divert his emotions.

    He felt her hand on his shoulder, soft, comforting. He didn't turn. He didn't know what else to say. He was worried that if he faced her, if he looked into those beautiful eyes, those eyes that held such emotion, such love that he would be defenseless. He knew the truth… he was falling in love with her, and that scared the hell out of him.

    "Flint," she almost whispered. "I… I had no idea. I thought you were just worried about regulations… I… I honestly thought… I'm sorry, Flint."

    He felt her hand leave his shoulder, heard her footsteps approaching the door, heard the twist of the door knob, the minute creak as the door opened. She was about to leave him… about to sacrifice everything for his feelings. And in that moment of realization, the weight of her gesture, of her incredible self-sacrifice made solely for him, struck him like a freight train.

    "Lady Jaye," he turned towards the door in time to see her pause. She turned to meet him, gazing hopefully at him from across the room. "Don't go," he begged in an almost whisper.

    And in that moment, she realized that the walls had come down, the façade had been stripped away. He was open, exposed, and completely vulnerable. The smile that filled her face expressed the utter joy she felt inside. Another silence engulfed the room, but this time it was permeated with a sense of longing and release; this time, instead of being thick with tension and confusion, it was overflowing with relief and reconciliation. Lady Jaye walked towards him. He simply stood near the couch, noticeably unsure how to proceed but visibly pleased that he had finally discovered and admitted to himself exactly what it was he wanted… exactly what was really important to him. To hell with regulations… he supposed he was just going to get used to the fact that the life of the woman he loved was going to be in constant danger. But the truth had finally become clear to him he was in love with her. Nothing was going to change that. Feelings weren't going to vanish simply because he denied himself the fulfillment of his desire; emotions weren't going to subside simply because he wouldn't admit to himself that he actually had feelings for her. He'd been making himself miserable trying to bury passions that couldn't be covered… and through it all, she'd persisted despite his emotional fumblings.

    As she approached him, he was still stricken by the fact that a woman like her found him attractive. Watching her walk across the room towards him, he allowed himself to really survey and appreciate her wonderful figure… she was dressed simply jeans, white blouse, black boots ­ but she may as well have been dressed in black negligee given the way it was turning him on. The sway of her hips, the bounce in her step, the heaving of her breasts… he took a deep breath as he brought his gaze from her body to her eyes… those gorgeous eyes, a deep green… and as she began to speak, he found himself absorbed in her lips… full, moist, red… he was totally consumed.

    "Are you sure you really want me to stay?" She was standing directly in front of him, clearly longing to embrace him… clearly desiring him… but she didn't want to be too direct. She was so happily shocked that Flint seemed to finally be admitting his feelings to himself, but she didn't want to misinterpret his intentions. She didn't want to get her hopes up only to discover that he just wanted her to help him clean the kitchen. She looked at him in anticipation.

    "Lady Jaye," he began reaching for her, "I've always wanted you to stay, I just never wanted to admit it to myself." Reaching up, he brushed her hair away from her face. "I'm through deceiving myself… and if you don't mind…" he slid his hand behind her neck and pulled her towards him; she stood on her tip-toes, stretching towards him expectantly, her focus on his eyes never faltering. His mouth formed that lopsided grin that she found so attractive as he finished his thought, "I've been waiting to do this for a long time."

    The insatiable passion, previously imprisoned in the cell of conduct had been granted parole. Free from it's confines, rapture found sanctuary in the warmth of an embrace and the intoxication of a kiss.

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Continued in Part Eight!
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