JOURNEY'S
END
BY: THE BARD
Chapter Three
Return to the PITT
"Ow, ow, ow, ow "
Lady Jaye slowly lowered herself down on to the couch, gently resting her leg on the coffee table while adjusting the ice pack on her knee. The others had all gone out for drinks at a local bar, but she had declined, deciding at the last minute that she had better work her thesis.
No doubt about it, she was hurting. Hawk had put them all through their paces this past week. She was pretty proud of herself, for she had nailed almost every one of the exercises. Thank goodness she had kept herself in good shape, she couldn't imagine being able to pass muster if she hadn't. As it was, she ached all over and her bad knee was starting to swell.
"Girl, you are not as young as you used to be."
The room vibrated suddenly, knocking the door open and rattling her laptop. She smiled at the familiar sensation, knowing full well that the cause was not an earthquake but a heavy transport moving through the secret headquarters hidden beneath the ground. A cool breeze wafted into the room from the now open doorway, but she was too sore to get up and close it again.
Upon arrival at the base outside of NYC, they were immediately escorted onto a plane bound for the PITT. It was a bit disconcerting, being back on the old base. It felt even stranger to be in her old quarters. Nothing had changed since she had left it. The furniture was all in the same place, the same posters hung on the wall, and the window still sported the large crack that Scarlett had put into it. Unfortunately for the window, Jaye had ducked just in time. The boot Red had thrown had narrowly missed her head.
"I can't believe I called her tawdry!" She thought to herself, " I must have had a death wish!"
She was alone now. Scarlett had gone and moved herself into Snake Eye's quarters. It was so quiet, for although some more old friends had been waiting for them at the airfield, there were so many faces and voices that were missing. Ghosts and memories from the past were hiding in every room, in every corner. Sitting here by herself, surrounded by her past, she longed for those old days.
"Ah well...Mom always told you that you can't move back, only forwards..." she sighed, reaching into her bag on the floor in an awkward attempt to retrieve her textbook.
After all the activity the past few days, she was finding it hard to concentrate on the task at hand. She stared at the cover of the book she had pulled out of her bag, a colorful detail of Carracci's famous 'Triumph of Bacchus and Ariadne' adorning the cover.
"Wittkower's 'Art and Architecture in Italy' is certainly not going to get me focused again. If anything it's going to put me to sleep." She thought to herself. "Come to think of it, sleeping might not be such a bad idea."
She hadn't had a chance to rest lately, and it wasn't only because Hawk and Beachhead were running her ragged (the Ranger had been one of the Joes who had met them when they arrived, causing a groan to escape the lips of both Scarlet and herself. Beachhead made training an absolute nightmare on the women). The truth was her confrontation with Flint outside the hotel had shaken her confidence. Could she pull it off? Did she deserve to be here? Was she still 'Joe' material?
Anger and guilt battled for position in her mind. Sure she had started the whole thing this time, jumping on his back at the slight change of tone in his voice. She had left him three years ago with her head bowed...she was coming back ready for a fight.
Jaye had originally joined the armed forces to prove to herself that she was capable of doing it, that she was more than just a spoiled little rich girl from an 'old-money' New England family. She had excelled beyond even her own expectations, and knew in her heart that she could do it again, Flint be damned!
Of course, that meant something else was bothering her and as irritating as it was to acknowledge, she knew the true cause if her malaise.
In her angry rant she had blurted out something, words that would hurt him more than anything else she could possibly say. She had brought up the unmentionable...the source of his shame...his perceived failure...and from the look that crossed his face, it still hit home.
Flint had never told anyone what went down in the jungles of Borneo. All she knew was that he had left with 12 men under his command and months later was the only one to return.
Up until that mission she had considered their relationship to be very healthy, the two of them were quite close. But this...this he never mentioned. God forbid she should bring it up, for then he would either walk away and not talk to her for days or fly into a rage. Mind you, to talk to him about it would mean she would have to actually be alone with him, a rare occasion in the months following his return. He had avoided her like the plague.
Painful memories flooded back, amplified by the familiar surroundings. How many nights had they spent together in this room? On this sofa?
He had always been so gentle with her, so quiet and attentive. He had returned from 'eco-force' a changed man. He wouldn't touch her and flinched away when she so much as brushed him with her fingers. When she finally managed to pull him out of the shell, so to speak, he had taken her so roughly and quickly she had felt almost violated. He had left immediately after the deed was done. He hadn't even removed his clothes.
That was the first and only time they had 'been' together since he returned, and the last memory she had of him in her bed.
"God it hurts." she reflected, "This would be so much easier if I could just hate him and be done with it."
The problem was, seeing him again had brought home to her how much she missed his presence. Or at least missed the 'old' Flint, the one she remembered so fondly. The one they had BOTH lost in the depths of the jungle.
"Oh, the hell with it!!!" she exclaimed aloud, grabbing her bag and pulling out a pack of Dunhill's and a Zippo. She placed the cigarette gently in her mouth and lit up, taking a long, deep drag to calm her nerves. She lay back, pushing the books off her lap, and exhaled a column of smoke.
So intent was she in producing that much needed nicotine induced serenity that she failed to notice the shadowy figure watching her from the open doorway.
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He hadn't meant to stop and stare. In fact, he hadn't meant to be here at all. Flint had just come out of a briefing with Duke and Hawk and was making his way back to his quarters for some much needed sleep.
Of course, he took the long way... which brought him right past her old room. It was done without thinking, really...as his mind was pretty focused on the mission at hand. In fact, when he found himself at her door, he was a bit startled. More so when he noticed it was open and that Jaye was sitting inside.
She was wearing flannel plaid pajama bottoms, a grey ARMY tee shirt and, surprisingly enough, glasses. When had she needed those? He smiled inwardly, knowing that Jaye wasn't the only one feeling the effects of aging...much to his chagrin he also bowed to his doctor's advice last year and bought a pair of reading glasses.
Flint noticed the ice on her knee and bit back the scathing remark that immediately came to mind about her ability to perform. He was just angry about the other night...he hadn't meant to comment on it then either, it just came out.
"Old habits die hard," he thought to himself. But this wasn't really an old habit. It was a reaction whose unfounded basis lay in his own pain and insecurities. She hadn't deserved it then and she certainly didn't deserve it now.
The meeting he had just left discussed the results of the five days of evaluation and training. So far, everyone had come through relatively well. Snakes and Scarlett had shown the strongest performance overall, as was to be expected. Shipwreck and Roadblock had both passed...although Shipwreck was a bit winded after the obstacle course...apparently complaining the whole time about his being a sailor and not infantry.
Jaye had pulled in an especially impressive performance. Her endurance, agility, and weapons skills were still above par. He had watched the last bit of the training today, which turned out to be one of the most difficult...the simulated ambush. She still moved like a cat...silent and deadly...and took out three people on the opposing 'team' before the exercise was brought to a halt.
He could tell by her body language, by the look on her face, by the weapon she selected, what her next move was going to be before she even did it. He could also tell she was favoring her right leg...that she was hurting. No one else would have noticed it, so subtle was her change in movement, but after working with someone closely for so many years, you get to know them very well. You have to, you rely on them, and your life is in their hands.
"Her leg is bothering her..." He commented as the others went over her results. Hawk looked up and studied the ex-Warrant Officer now CIA operative carefully before responding. Flint kept his face impassive. He had remained quiet throughout the proceeding, only nodding his approval as Duke went over the team member's files.
"And yet according to Beachhead she did very well considering she has been out of action longer than most."
"I am just commenting on what I saw today. It was obvious to me that she was in some pain."
Hawk sighed and shook his head. "Flint, we need her. She was...is...the best at what she does. We need Intelligence...as a CIA spook you should realize this more than most. We were fools to let her go so easily in the first place."
Flint frowned at the last comment. The general knew very well why she had left. He knew very well what had gone down between himself and his partner. He was just too polite to say anything about it directly. He was skirting the edges...watching for signs that either of them might endanger this mission by bringing in personal issues from the past. If he so much as sensed the latter, the professional courtesy would be gone and he would be coming down hard. Flint was one of the few that had experienced it first hand. Not once but twice.
The first time was after Lady Jaye handed in her resignation, an event that was really and truly all his own doing. He hadn't meant to push her right out of the force...or had he? That whole time was a blur of anger and pain. All he knew was that he was as upset about her leaving as anyone, although he was too proud...and too guilt-ridden...to admit it. This of course put him on the path that lead to the events that brought him under the Tomahawk a second time. It was a month before the Joes disbanded, and in this meeting he had nearly been kicked out of the Joes and given a dishonorable discharge. It was only because of the what went down in Borneo and his years of exemplary service that Hawk had saved his ass.
He still can't believe how bad he had become. He was uncontrollable in the field, disobeyed orders and rude to his soldiers and to his commanding officers. The worst was the drinking. He never...NEVER...partook while on duty, but the rest of his day was spent alone in a drunken stupor. It clouded the memories, dulled the pain...
He grimaced as he remembered those dark days.
"Flint," Hawk brought him back to the present, "look me in the eye and tell me she isn't capable of pulling this off. If you truly feel that she would put herself and the team in danger tell me now and I will send her home."
Dash looked up at his CO. He was giving him the benefit of the doubt, a sign of respect that he thought he had lost, a chance to undo some of the damage done by his previous behavior. Wasn't this one of the reasons he was here again?
Duke looked at him and nodded, his old friend encouraging him to speak his mind.
He sighed. "No. She belongs here as much as any of us. I just think we should have Lifeline look at her. If I remember correctly, Lady Jaye would be too stubborn to go see him herself. Just don't tell her I am the one who suggested it."
Hawk smiled his approval. "Yes, she's got a temper, that one. Ok then, she's in...now, where were we...ah yes...Gung Ho..."
He watched as Jaye pulled a book out of her bag and stared blankly at the cover. Her mind was obviously not on her work. Should he go in and talk to her? He felt an urge to do so but it was tempered by the fresh memory of the exchange they had in NY.
Boy, she had let him have it.
"Leave it to her to be the to bring up my failure in Borneo." He thought to himself as he watched her read, "And you deserved it you idiot. You just had to push her buttons, didn't you?"
He had expected something, but was still surprised by the bitter anger that had come out of her mouth. Sure, he had been the target of her temper more times than he could count. He rubbed his jaw as he remembered the time she decked him when he blasted Snakes and Red about the Land Mine incident. He had pleasant memories of the aftermath, mind you.
This time, however, was different. There was not affection in her voice. There would be no loving reconciliation. He had seen to that.
There was movement in the room and Flint took a step back so as not to be seen. He watched as she pulled out a cigarette and lit up. His eyes narrowed as she leaned back and took a long drag. When did she pick that up?
"It's not like you to skulk about in the shadows, Brother..." Flint started, and turned to come face to face with Spirit. He smiled warmly, and grasped his arm.
"I see you haven't lost your stealth one bit. Good to see you again, Brother."
Brother.
Spirit and he had never been close during their time in the Joes. They had been acquaintances, fellow soldiers, but never friends. Funny how that had all changed after the team disbanded. He owed the Indian healer his life.
Spirit looked to see what Flint had been watching, and smirked.
"I figured as much. No one else would cause you to drop your guard so. How else would I have been able to get this close without you noticing? Come." He turned and signaled for him to follow "Let us go and grab some coffee. We have much to catch up on, you and I"
Flint grunted and trailed Spirit as he walked towards the Mess.
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"Cold cereal? Again?" Roadblock moaned over his breakfast.
They had all gathered in the old cafeteria, as they had been doing every morning since they arrived.
"We don't have a cook anymore, remember?" Gung-Ho looked up from his Cheerios, the Marine having arrived with the Beachhead. "Unless you want to volunteer?"
"No way am I wasting my talent on you, man...you have no appreciation for the finer things. Burned out your taste buds with all that Creole hot sauce."
"Hey Jaye, do you want some Cereal with that sugar or what."
"Oh Shit..."
Shipwreck laughed as Jaye realized she had forgotten she had been pouring the sugar into her bowl. It was now a huge white mound on top of her breakfast.
"And here I thought you were the only one NOT suffering this morning." Wild Bill sat down next to her, sunglasses on...obviously in pain as a result of last nights outing.
"I was up all night working..." she glared at Shipwreck, who had practically fallen off his chair from laughter. She was about to fling some Cheerios in his general direction when Hawk's voice boomed through the PA system.
"Lady Jaye and Flint, please report to my office ASAP."
"Ohhh...why is that thing so good damned loud!" Wild Bill held his head in his hands.
"Flint's back?" she asked, as she got up to leave.
"He arrived early yesterday..." Beachhead replied, "Watched some of the training and then went into a meeting."
"Leave it to a Ranger to talk with his mouth full...no manners..." Jaye walked out just as a food fight erupted between Beachhead and Leatherneck.
"Some things never change." She thought. Including, it seems, Flint's habit of avoiding her. Whether it was a result of that night in NY or just a continuation of his irritating behavior, she was still miffed. Not that she really wanted to see him.
So intent was she on her thoughts that she walked right into someone as she sped though one of the many narrow corridors leading towards Hawk's office.
"Bloody Hell...sorry, I wasn't watching where I was goi..." She stopped and gasped. It was Flint, in his old uniform, beret and all. It was like she had been thrown back in a time warp. From the look on his face, he must have felt the same way. She had forgotten that she was wearing her old GIJOE greens as well...minus her hat, which she still hadn't found.
"Lost in thought?" he smirked, composing himself instantly. For some reason it irritated her that he could do that so easily.
"Come on. We have a meeting." He turned and she was forced to follow him. Oh, he still knew exactly how to ruffle her feathers. It wasn't adding to her mood.
They saluted Hawk as they came in the door.
"At ease, men...have a seat."
"It seems as though we are going to need more information about this alleged COBRA operation. So far, our agents in the field have turned up very little in the way of concrete information. I don't want to send anyone down there without knowing what we are up against."
"The two of you are the best I've got. I need you to team up and head down to Peru ASAP. There will be a private Chopper waiting for you...I assume you are still certified to fly, Flint?" He nodded and Hawk continued.
"This is a reconnaissance mission. You are to gather what details you can and then get the hell out of there. The chopper is lightly armed, but nothing that would arouse suspicion on the ground."
Hawk paused, considering his words carefully.
"You two were a great team once upon a time. I trust you can put your personal differences aside and get this done. If you can't I need to know now. I will not jeopardize my men or this mission over any dirty laundry that comes up between you."
She looked over at Flint, who had gone quite pale. Was he ok? Suddenly, her anger was gone and replaced with concern. Something Hawk said had set him off, she knew him well enough to see he was fighting it...she turned to the General.
"No problem..." she said, hoping her confident tone would snap him out of it.
Flint turned to her, his face expressionless. What was he thinking? She stared back...refusing to break his gaze.
He sighed and turned to Hawk.
"Like she said...no problem at all."
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Continued in Chapter Four!
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