October 20th

October 20th,

Ahhhhhh….

Hot bubble bath nirvana!

Yup…that’s where I am right now. Lying in a tub of steaming hot water, Crabtree and Evelyn ‘Summer Hill’ bubbles rising high over the rim. Candles are burning all around me and I have shoved a jazz/blues CD into Red’s stereo. The sounds Ray Charles are wafting through the small opening in the door.

Boy…I needed this! Leatherneck put a bunch of us through Marine hand-to- hand combat exercises and the knots in my muscles, and bruises on my side are threatening to erupt into the sharp pain so familiar to my body since I first became a soldier.

Hopefully, a couple of Advil and this makeshift spa will curb it some. And the scented candles should help clear my head…

I had been a pretty intense workout. Flint had been my sparing partner this time, which is unusual…he tends to team himself up with Duke as the two of them fight it out in their never-ending pissing contest. It all seems so good-natured on the surface, but the look in Flint’s eye and the intensity of Duke’s ‘attacks’ point to a deeper conflict.

As for myself, Ripcord has been my sparring buddy since Airborne school. The two of us are quite good friends, although since joining the Joe team we have spent less and less time together.

Note to self: Go out for lunch with Ripcord…you have been neglecting that friendship too much of late.

Anyhow…when the class started and we began breaking up into our ‘teams’, Leatherneck decided, in his infinite wisdom, to shuffle us all around. Apparently we were getting too familiar with our present opponents and needed a challenge. My challenge ended up being Flint, much to my surprise and his chagrin.

We started off slowly at first, reluctantly. I wasn’t quite sure how to handle it and neither was he it seemed. I had seen Flint fight…and I knew he was holding back. It irked me! Was it because I was of the fairer sex? Was he afraid to ‘hurt’ me?

So off course, in my anger at what I perceived to be his false perception of me as ‘weak’…or at least ‘weaker’ than he…I attacked full on, taking him by surprise…taking him down.

He recovered quickly and shook himself out of whatever ‘gentlemanly ideals’ that were stopping him from going on the offensive. He smirked humorlessly and with a glint in his eye, threw himself into the fight.

He is strong. Much stronger than I am…but I have speed and flexibility on my side. For a while there we were evenly matched, and although I was pushing myself harder than he was I knew that I could take him down again if I needed to.

This was fast becoming a contest between us, and my cutthroat drive to win was beginning to take over as I tried to gain the advantage. Flint would have none of it…

…then it happened.

I felt victory near and was feeling pretty good about myself… I had him in a chokehold and was struggling to keep him down….when Duke strode by and taunted…

“Looks like the great, manly Dashiell Faireborn is about to be taken down by a woman…who would have thought…”

At the sergeants words the tables were horribly turned…I felt his body tense underneath me and suddenly I was fighting for my life. God, it was like raw power unleashed…he had been holding back with me. No…it was more than that. His eyes had glazed over and he was pouring it on, oblivious to the others who had stopped to watch us go at it.

I was holding my own but was rapidly weakening. I couldn’t possibly hold him off, and he was beginning to scare me. He wouldn’t stop coming…oh god, it was like Sierra Gordo all over again.

Leatherneck noticed something was amiss and immediately got between us…but Flint was too far gone. He swung around and was about to lash out at the older Marine when I yelled his name…

“Dash! Stop!”

My voice seemed to break through whatever was clouding his mind and he froze for second, breathing heavily from the exertion before turning to me, fixing me with scared eyes, his face locked in an expression of complete horror at what had just happened.

It looked like he was about to say something but the words wouldn’t come out. He swung around quickly and with a angry glare at his friend strode right out of the gym. I wanted to follow him but Duke held me back…

“No. Not yet. Let him go…”

I learned later that he had gone straight up to the surface, jumped in his car and taken off in a cloud of dust and sand…he has yet to return. If Duke hadn’t ordered me to stay put I would probably be out on the road looking for him.

I am worried about him. I want so much to comfort him, but at the same time I am grateful to Duke for holding me back in the gym. The memories of what happened only a few short months ago are still so fresh in my mind, scaring me.

It’s time I wrote this down.

I haven’t spoken to anyone about it. Not Scarlett, not Snakes, not Courtney, not even Psych-Out. It has been sitting heavily on my heart for so long…I need to get it out.

It had been a top secret, ultra sensitive mission…so secret that even Hawk and General Hollingsworth didn’t know anything about the sealed orders that we were to open once in flight. A transport plane was to rendezvous with us in less than an hour.

So much rode on the successful completion of this mission that Flint, Roadblock, Muskrat and I were under a lot of pressure from the get go. Flint especially, who was slated to lead the whole thing.

On top of it all…imagine our surprise when, upon boarding, we found ourselves face to face with Daina and Dragonsky of the Oktober Guard! It seems that we were to be teamed up with the Soviets on this one, advising a rebel coalition in Sierra Gordo as to how to take back their country from COBRA.

From my intelligence gathering over the years, I knew immediately that what we were going to do was useless. Once we ousted COBRA, civil war would certainly rip the region apart as the warring factions went for each other’s jugulars.

Orders were orders, however…and as they say, “Ours is not to wonder why, ours is not to make reply, ours is but to do or die…”

…and at that point I had noticed that a very handsome blonde Soviet Naval infantryman was giving me the once over. His name was Lt Gorky, and he was as charming as he was good looking.

I am used to men flirting with me. As I said before, it comes in the job description…woman in the military and all…but since I had taken up with Flint that game had all but been shut down. None of the Joes would so much as look at me sideways. It was as though Flint had somehow lifted his leg and marked his territory.

Now, here was someone who had no idea about my relationship, who was showing some real interest in me. It was flattering to say the least.

I guess Flint isn’t the only one with an oversized ego.

Flint, of course, noticed right away and began to ‘posture’. In fact, he was about to shut Gorky down before the man even got off the ground when our aircraft came under attack. COBRA had hit us with a missile and proceeded to pepper us with machine gun fire, taking out the pilots in one lethal shot.

It seems that our old enemy knew we were coming. We were sold out…of that I am sure!

Had it not been for Gorky and I taking control of the plane and pulling some pretty fancy maneuvers on the runway, we would all be dead.

As it was, we still had a ways to go to escape enemy pursuit. Flint drove the Desert Fox expertly, following closely behind the Soviet tank…concentrating hard on avoiding Darklon’s attack as we plowed through the jungle at high speed. I guess it wasn’t too difficult for him to control he vehicle, cause he was able to grumble at me about Gorky, who was blowing me kisses from up ahead.

Then Flint did something that triggered my anger but good. The BMP that was carrying the Guard took a hit and Flint decided to leave our Russian counterparts behind…spewing off some lame excuse for a command decision about taking care of his own people.

Well…rank and protocol aside…I blasted him right then and there…

“When you throw in with people, you have to stick by them…even if you see one of them as a threat to your macho self image…”

He was as angry as I had ever seen him…but it worked. He did go back for them. Mind you, he wasn’t about to let it rest…pulling some show off testosterone move where he jumped a ravine in the overloaded Desert Fox, nearly splattering us all against a cliff face in process…

From then on the situation between us just got worse and worse…

Confession here…I have to admit that I was mad at him before Gorky even entered the picture. This mission happened not too long after the scene outside the New York City hospital. I mean…here I find myself falling in love with him, and all he seems to want is sex. Nothing more…

To top it all off, just before going into the briefing with the Generals, I accidentally overheard him talking to Muskrat about me…about ‘us’…in that infuriating macho tone.

“Nah…Muskrat, we work fine together…I mean that whole thing, its nothing serious. No commitments…she knows that…it’s all in good fun. Keep it light, I always say…”

Oh boy did that hit hard…

Combine all this with his juvenile behavior around Gorky and the rapidly worsening situation on our mission…it became a powder keg waiting for a spark…

…and I had to go and strike the match!

This is difficult for me to admit, but sometimes when I am upset or angry I seem to regress into the most juvenile of behaviors. I was mad at Flint, so as the fouled up mission droned ever onwards, I decided to ‘punish’ him by playing it out with the poor Russian right in front of his eyes.

As well, some part of me was reveling in the fact that the man was paying attention to me. Was acting all jealous because of ME.

But as Roadblock told me point blank when he noticed what was going on…

“You don’t want that kind of attention from him…”

Marvin had read me like a book, regardless of the injury that caused us to have to bandage up his eyes. As we sat together during a rest from our forced march, he began to scold me over what I was doing…

“I know what you are up to Jaye…I can hear it. Stop playing with the man. You are not being fair. You know what he went through with Karen…back off now…”

I told him to stay out of it…but he cut me off…

“No…I’m warning you Jaye…you are playing with fire. You have no idea at the Pandora’s box you are opening up here! Its not worth it…you don’t want this kind of attention from him. Believe me.”

He was hitting close to home…he knew what I was up to. It irked me…I got up to leave but even blind he was able to grab my arm in his firm grip and stop me.

“I mean it…I won’t let you hurt my friend, he’s been through enough…and I won’t let your irrational behavior get you hurt as well…”

I wish I had listened to him.

Late one night as we set up camp and I prepared to take first watch, Gorky came up to me and brushed his hand gently across my cheek and told me to be careful, called me ‘HIS pretty Americana’. Before I knew it Flint was on top of him.

It took three men to pull him off…another two to hold Gorky back from retaliating. As they both were dragged back into their corners I glared sharply at Flint and stomped off to take up my position…more shaken than I was willing to admit.

For Flint to loose it like that on a mission…for him to attack what amounted to one of his ‘men’ at least for this engagement was so improbable the chance of it occurring was almost non-existent.

And yet it had just happened!

And I was the cause.

I didn’t know it then, but the worse was yet to come…

That night, as I sat by myself…trying desperately to concentrate on the task at hand while my mind went over and over what had just happened…I felt a rough hand on my shoulder and swung around to find Flint facing me. His eyes were dark, frightening…

“When you sleep with me, you sleep with no one else!” he growled…

At those words my guilt gave way to fury. How dare he! How dare be so possessive of me when he himself said it was nothing serious! When he himself refuses to commit.

How dare he assume that I would jump into bed with the first man that gave me a little attention, that I would be so callous. Meanwhile, a niggling little voice in the back of my head whispered to me that after my behavior these past two days what else could he think I was doing!

He snorted when he heard me…anger, jealously, and fear had all combined to make a potent blend within him…stirred expertly by yours truly

“Oh Please,” he snarled, “you know he wanted you, and all that flirting...you were ready to give him…”

Whatever else he was about to say was lost as my fist came up and took a swing at his jaw. Unlike that time outside the PIT, this time he was ready for it…he caught my arm expertly and twisted it painfully.

But I wasn’t about to cry out…instead I kept pushing him. The fear was still there deep within me. This man was not the Flint I knew…this man was someone I had never met. Unfortunately, that fear came out as a red rage…

“You arrogant son of a bitch…are you so insecure that you can’t stand to see me so much as talk to someone else without flying off the handle. By the way, Faireborn, that was real smooth back there…real smooth…you must be itching for a Court Marshall!”

“This isn’t about me, it’s about you and that Russian…” he practically spit out the last word, not even able to bring himself to say his name…squeezing my arm until I felt like it might break.

I cut him off then, and said something that even now I wish I could take back. Something that I knew would hurt him. I have mentioned before that I had a talent for using words as weapons…my language skills given a deadly, venomous twist…well at this point, red had so glazed my vision that I was blind to the consequences of what I was about to do…I don’t remember exactly what I said…I think its best that I have blocked it out…but the gist of it was this…

“NO…it’s all about you, Dashiell. You and your bloody ‘issues’! Your pride! Get over yourself, you bloody bastard. Do I look like Karen to you?”

He staggered back as if I had punched him, his eyes wide with shock. He didn’t know Roadblock had told me about his past…he certainly had never told me. And with that came the realization that I had done what I did with Gorky…played with him like I did…with the full knowledge of what he had gone through…

…that I KNEW it would hurt him and went ahead with it anyhow…that the one person he trusted ripped his wounds wide open with singular and vindictive purpose.

He began to breath heavily, struggling to regain control. He grabbed his head in his hands and began to physically shake.

Oh god…what had I done?

But before I could apologize, he was on me…moving so quickly I had no time to defend myself.

I don’t even think Dash had any idea what came over him then. I don’t think he knew what he was doing until it was too late. All he knew is that I had hurt him…and he wanted to hurt me back.

He was attacking me…but not like the sparring in the gym…this was sexual…

And as afraid as I was…I felt myself responding.

His mouth was pressed so hard against mine that I tasted the copper sting of blood. His hands roamed my body, bruising…his teeth biting. My nails raking across his back, leaving large welts wherever they went. He ripped my clothing from my body… my skin, once worshipped, was attacked with a primal need too intense to ignore…too frighteningly strong to fight.

This was not the pleasure I had come to expect whenever they came together. The desire, the affection then was always of mutual need and satisfaction…of shared pleasure in each other.

This was something entirely different.

I was terrified…but I was aroused…the mission was forgotten; the enemy around us was forgotten…our companions, just short distance away, were forgotten. There was only us and this…this fire!

His hand grabbed my hair and twisted sharply, pulling my head back. I saw his eyes then…and they were dark storm clouds of desire and despair…of fury and hurt. Before I could react he had pushed me down onto the hood of Desert Fox and pinned me there, standing over me in dominance, in all his masculine glory…his body language as clear as a wolf’s…screaming to anyone watching…

Mine.

Roadblock had warned me, and I didn’t listen. I had unleashed something. Something I couldn’t possibly control. All that hurt and anger that Dash held expertly inside was coming out in a flood. It had been buried, festering for so long I don’t think even Flint could control it.

That night, I saw the darkness inside the man I had grown to love…

Suddenly…I felt him backing off…waking up from whatever state I had put him in…pushing all the hurt back down, pushing down the anger…and soon it would be buried again…sitting dormant as it ate away at his soul.

Then, before I could stop myself, I heard my own voice in the night…heard myself snarl something as I pulled him closer. It seems he had awoken a dark, self-destructive part of me as well…I had discovered I had power over him after all…and the devil sitting on my shoulder was screaming for me to use it…to use him like he was using me!

With a primal growl he took me then…quickly and roughly. And as he reached his peak I heard his voice whisper…thick and rough…shaking…

“Karen…why?”

I shudder even now when I remember it…sitting here in my bath, the actual incident months in the past. How it hurt to hear him call her name, even in anger…even in despair.

We did not speak for the rest of the mission, both of us lost in our own personal misery…both of us angry at ourselves for letting the situation get so out of control… even angrier that neither of us knew how to say those two simple little words that would begin the healing process…

…I’m sorry.

Gorky was forgotten. I think Flint had gotten his message across loud and clear…but more likely was that I ceased to respond to him. He was nothing to me other than a fellow soldier…one that I had used for my own ends.

When we finally returned to base I sequestered myself in my room for days, not willing to see and talk to anyone. I made up some excuse about being tired and feeling ill…needing rest after a long and stressful mission. It was a likely story, and no one was the wiser.

No one but Roadblock, who dropped by as soon as he was released from the infirmary and for the first time in my life I broke down and cried in a fellow Joes arms. He never said he told me so, never chided me for betraying his confidence…merely comforted me like the sweet friend that he is. I didn’t deserve it.

Later…as I calmed myself and felt myself drifting off for the first time in days, comforted by his quiet presence and support, I felt him shift and get up, mumbling something to someone that I couldn’t quite make out in my sleep addled and exhausted mind.

Then I felt a new presence, felt someone else sit down on the bed and gather me in his arms.

It was Dashiell…

I struggled against him for only a moment before breaking down and letting him hold me. His eyes and face told me that he had had as bad a time these past few days as I had.

As we sat there, I saw him go into his back pocket and pull out an envelope and tossed whatever it contained in front of me. I bent to pick it up and froze. It was a picture of a younger him and a beautiful blond woman sitting on a dock overlooking a lake somewhere, with a black Labrador Retriever lying between them.

They looked so happy.

“That picture was taken right after we were married.” I heard his voice, soft and tentative…as if searching, struggling to find the words, to speak of something he would rather forget. “We had gone to the cottage after I got a rare two week leave pass from the army. We had such a good time…after it ended with her…after she…” he paused and swallowed hard before continuing “…I used to carry this picture around with me…trying to hold on to the memories. Wishing that I could somehow transport myself back in time to that moment and stay there forever…”

“…I don’t carry it with me anymore. I haven’t in a while…”

That was all that was said on the matter of his ex-wife…but it I knew how hard it was for him to even speak of it. I knew how to read behind the lines with him, and that whole conversation spoke volumes. It was enough.

It took months for us to build our friendship, our relationship, back up after what happened in Sierra Gordo. Even now it still haunts us both. Even now I don’t think he entirely trusts me, or himself for that matter.

Even now I remember that night with dread, despite the fact that in the years that I have known him he has NEVER given me any reason to fear him.

You have to understand what I saw that night…what I released. Dash calls it his personal ‘Heart of Darkness’, using the title of Joseph Conrad’s novel as a way to describe the shadow he holds deep inside.

We are warriors. We are trained to fight, to kill…and to do that requires that we tap into some deep inside ourselves, something sinister and primal…bringing it closer to the surface than it should be. Anyone who has been in battle has experienced it...some can control it better than others.

It’s like what Mutt says about his dog Junkyard…or any guard/war dog for that matter. He trains it, works it…plays with its wild nature…its violent side. Drawing it out slowly and surely…teaching it to attack, to bite, to maul, to hunt…but at the same time struggling to keep that side of the animal under control.

It takes a strong willed, stable dog and an experienced handler to find the balance between the two sides…

It’s like that with us. We struggle to contain the very nature that makes us efficient warriors. That night I pushed him over the edge and he lost control. We both lost control…

I also learned that I had power over him. Like Karen, I had the power to hurt him, to drive him over the edge…and he knew it now. I think that frightened him more than anything. He had struggled to remain distant for so long, not ever wanting to be that vulnerable again…and now I had come along and thrown it all out the window.

I n fact I am surprised that he is still with me. That we are still together. Maybe that speaks more to the depth and strength of our relationship than anything. Strength that I tend to take for granted.

Sigh*

So now you know. Now you know a bit about the man they call Flint…now you have been told pretty much all there is to know about my relationship with Dashiell Faireborn. The good and the bad. Judge us…judge me if you will…for good or for ill.

Is it worth it? Is being with him worth all the pain…all the struggle? Should I just let it go and get on with my life? Should I just walk away?

You would ask me that question? Would tell me that I am wasting my time even knowing that sitting quietly beside the tub is a man that I love more than my own life? A man who no matter how hard he tries to fight it I sense needs me as well…

Yes…that’s right…while I was writing Dash returned and sat himself down quietly next to me on the bath mat and closed his eyes, taking in the calming atmosphere, listening to the music…waiting patiently for me to finish.

Destructive, unhealthy, doomed…call the relationship what you will. He needs me…I need him….

And now that I am finished…he will have me.

Author’s note:

The specific line 'When you sleep with me, you sleep with no one else..." and the general idea of the scene that followed borrowed from a JAG fic that I read at the Underthecovers site. Although it was a Harm/Mac thing it screamed Flint and Jaye to me so I 'borrowed' from it here.

The title was 'You Only Hurt The Ones You Love' and the author was Christine. Very talented writer...very original approach overall to the story...which is much much more than this little scene.