Secrets and Lies

Questions Without Answers

         The sound of fevered panting intermingled with the scent of sweat filled the galley. James grunted as he slammed into Audrey as hard as he could, the two of them pawing desperately at each other, making the most of their time. He smiled down at the petite blonde, his hand moving aside her slinky top, exposing one of those small breasts with her eraser-tip nipples. He lowered his mouth to one as her hands clawed at his neck and scalp, her skeletal legs tightening around him.

    "Bet I'm better than that Christine chick," Audrey teased, pulling him down to bite at his ear.

    James pulled away, pushing her back onto the table as he ignored her. "I don't want to talk about her," he muttered, pulling her legs up so her ankles could lock behind his head.

    "That's not true," Audrey managed before his cock silenced her once more as he bottomed out within her. "You always want to talk about her; even when you're not talking about her," Audrey managed to get out between groans. "Tell me I'm better."

    "No," James said curtly, gritting his teeth as he began to fuck all of his frustration away.

    This was the way of it with them. He'd use the blonde to try to get the woman he truly wanted out of his mind. Usually, it worked; or at least it did until she opened her mouth. Audrey was great, so long as she didn't speak. That was the twenty-one-year-old's problem though, she couldn't shut up.

    "Fine. You don't have to tell me anything, I already know I'm better," she gasped, clutching the prep table tighter as she moved closer to climax. "Otherwise why would you keep coming back?"

    "Because you make it easy."

    She smirked, moving her legs to plant her feet on the edge of the table; her pelvis flush with his as she played with herself. This was one thing he did enjoy about her; she wasn't shy at all. "Only because your dick's addicting."

    "Yeah?"

    "Mmhmmm," her response dragged on into a high-pitched moan. James grunted, his eyes rolling as he felt her climax, her body rippling around him. Audrey reached up and grabbed his neck, her legs sliding back down to his hips as she yanked him down roughly for a kiss; her tongue dueling with his. "When we dock, you want to get a hotel room so we can really have some fun before we get to that stupid island?"

    "No."

    She pouted. "When we're finished with this, do you want my number?"

    "No." He pulled away from her for good this time, grabbing a nearby towel to wipe himself down with before tossing it onto her stomach to pull his pants back up. "Thanks for another distraction," He muttered, pulling his flask out to rinse the taste of her from his mouth. Against his will, he thought about the way Christine had tasted... Her lips, her essence; all of her had been perfection. A taste of ambrosia he'd never been able to find again no matter how many women he tried to lose himself within.

    Audrey tugged the flask from his hand, sniffing it before she moved to take a sip before he pulled it away before she did. "You know, I'm getting sort of tired of this," the girl snapped; "We seem to have a good time, you like me enough to fuck me but you won't share your booze with me, won't tell me you like me; what the fuck?"

    "Like I said when this all started, I'm just looking for a distraction."

    "So? Why can't I be a more permanent distraction? I mean, we kind of work, you know?"

    James chuckled shaking his head. "Look, you're a lot of fun, I'll give you that. Probably one of the better lays I've had in the last few years; you're a kid though. Got your whole life to fuck up still."

    She crossed her arms, pouting further. Her expression made her look even younger and he hated that. "My mom says I'm pretty fucked as it is... We could be fucked up together."

    He shook his head. "Your mom is wrong. You might have some issues, but you're not fucked up, not even remotely. If I was a better man, I would never have touched you to begin with but I'm not so..." He sighed, clearing his throat. "Look, if you can't separate this from everything else, then we need to stop. It's just sex to me; something to fill the void."

    She looked up at him, her brown eyes hesitant as she rapidly blinked to stop tears from developing. "Are you... Are you breaking up with me?"

    "There's nothing to break up with, Audrey; we weren't anything to begin with."

    "Weren't we?"

    The two stared at one another for a long minute before she hopped down from the table and grabbed her skirt. "You're a real bastard, you know that?"

    "What's going on here," Christine's voice rang out suddenly. Looking up from the pitiful girl in front of him to his former flame, James found her standing at the galley door with four ten-pound bags of potatoes in her arms. "No one's supposed to be out of their bunks unless needed.... Ugh, and it smells like a brothel in here."

    Finishing zipping her skirt, Audrey grabbed her sandals from the floor before she began to stomp away. "And you," she paused, glaring at Christine; "You're a real condescending snob bitch," she snapped, shoving Christine aside before racing from the galley as the ship rocked violently in the storm.

    "Better a bitch than a slag," Christine sighed, setting the potatoes on the countertop before she gathered a rag and bucket; filling it with a sanitizing solution to wipe the table down with. "You couldn't have found a better place to fuck her in? I mean, nearly everyone is sick, you have the whole run of the ship and yet you choose the galley of all places?"

    "Not now, Christine," James muttered.

    "I certainly hope you were both smart enough to utilize protection; be a bit difficult for her to continue that whole virgin charade with her fiancé if she returns home pregnant."

    His blue eyes widened. "She... has a fiancé?"

    Christine nodded, wiping the table down without looking at him. "Slightly younger than us; Helga says he's some sort of stock broker, quite well-to-do."

    A heavy silence hung in the air as James thought over that. "Are you going to tell him?"

    "Not my place to. Not like she wasn't consenting."

    "She was."

    "I didn't question it. No need to be so defensive."

    "No need to be a bitch either. If she wants to fuck around with me and it's mutual, that's no one else's business."

    "Absolutely."

    The sound of potatoes being peeled slowly filled the air as James picked his shirt up and pulled it back on. He watched her as she sat with her back to him, peeling the first bag of potatoes in absolute silence. James thought about asking her if she wanted help, about just sitting down across from her and helping whether she wanted him to or not despite knowing how futile that would be. The silence felt deafening for the both of them, yet it was a sound they were both far too familiar with. He opened his mouth to speak only to close it again.

    "Go to bed, Jim... And for God's sake stay away from Audrey before you catch a venereal disease."

    "They're not as terrible as everyone says," he offered, hoping to ease the tension as he moved and poured them both a cup of coffee.

    "Yes, well, not everything can be cured with penicillin. Stupidity least of all."

    "Is this all we're ever going to do; argue?"

    She ignored him, continuing to work through the first ten-pound bag.

    "Why'd you ask me to come if this was how it was going to be, Christine?"

    "Because I didn't have a choice," she snapped looking up at him for the first time since she'd entered the room. She paused, holding a half-peeled potato in her hands as she internally weighed her options before exhaling and continuing. "I needed your help, whether I wanted to see you again or not... I knew though, as did Montgomery and Andrew that if I didn't go and tell you the truth, that there would be no way you would agree to come along."

    "Bullshit," James fired back. "You knew all they'd have had to have done was mention you and I would have come running."

    "Did I," Christine asked, pausing once more to look at him. "You left, remember. How was I to know you'd come back so quickly?"

    "Because... Because it's you, Christine... I would always come back for you."

    "Then... Why didn't you?"

    He didn't have an answer to that question. He couldn't even say that he regretted not coming back, even though he did because he knew that his actions had never shown her any different. There were so many mistakes between them now, so many unspoken words that could never change the past. He wished sorry was enough...

    "Exactly," Christine said mournfully, bowing her head once more. "For the greater good, I swallowed my pride and came to you directly instead of allowing a third party that I knew you'd say no to, to do so. I figured you'd either say no, or you'd... you'd be the solider I always knew you were..."

    James sighed once more as he picked up another potato peeler from the drying rack before moving to sit across from her. He slid one of the coffee mugs toward her, the one that was a sixty/forty split of coffee to milk with a pinch of sugar. It was strange what stuck with you even after all these years. He watched as she glanced at it, muttering a soft 'thank you' as he simply nodded back; both hesitant and cautious. Unsure whether he should have continued to keep a safe distance or pushed a little bit further in hopes of closing the divide between them.

    He studied her features again, noticing the new wrinkles developing on her brow, the heavy bags from sleepless nights developing under her beautiful eyes, and that scar. He still wondered how she'd gotten it, but more, he wondered what would have happened if he'd never left. Boldly, James reached out and cupped her face, forcing her to look at him; his thumb traced over the route of her scar, from the corner of her right nostril to her jawline. He'd expected her to pull away, unable to see him as a different person from the one who'd left her and see him as the person she'd met and once loved; a man who wouldn't ever hurt her again. Instead, she had leaned into his touch, her lips quivering slightly.

    "How did it happen?"

    "Rhesus monkey."

    James chuckled; she had to be lying. "A monkey?"

    She nodded, smirking back. "Lab tech failed to lock the cage; little bastard found his way into my office."

    "Why would a monkey attack you?"

    "Addiction study. It was hopped up on a cocktail of caffeine, nicotine, and amphetamines."

    He laughed again. It was absurd. "Fine, don't tell me then."

    "Wasn't planning to." She pulled back then, her lips twitching as she fought off a frown; already missing his gentle touch and the warmth it brought.

    Watching as she sipped her coffee, James once more noticed how dark the bags under her eyes were. "You feeling alright?"

    "Fine. Just need more coffee."

    "When was the last time you slept?"

    "Can't remember... Storm's left me a bit preoccupied given everyone else in command has fallen ill."

    "You need sleep."

    "Is that your way of telling me I look like shit? How very British of you," she muttered sipping her coffee once more.

    "That's what happens when you don't sleep." James was blunt, hoping she'd hear the worry in his voice. "How much longer can you make it on coffee alone," he asked with the same firm tone of voice he'd used on her years ago when she'd tried to juggle everything alone. "You're not alone anymore, you don't need to carry everything like you are-"

    "What do you care, Jim? I'm not your problem anymore..."

    "Why do you have to do that?"

    "Do what?"

    "Act like I don't care when I've cared this entire time. You act like everything meant nothing to me, that it's not tearing me up just as it's tearing you up-"

    "Stop it, Jim."

    "No, God dammit. Do you have any idea how much I care; how much it hurt me as well? Christ, Christine... You, you show up in my life after years of being this haunting memory that I can't forget no matter how much I drink or how many women I fuck asking me to help you, and then once I do you...You make me hate myself all over again."

    "Good. I'm glad you hate yourself... Maybe now you know how much I've hated myself for dreaming of you every night, thinking of you every time I let someone else touch me, and none of it ever being enough..."

    "I know I did you wrong, that you've moved on... I will never, ever hurt you like that again..."

    "Stop it. I don't want to talk about this," she muttered, her voice quivering with pain despite her attempts to hide it.

    "Too fucking bad," James snapped grabbing her wrist and yanking her back roughly; her notebook falling from her back pocket with a solid smack as it landed at her feet. "I'm not letting you act like I don't care, like I don't understand all that I lost-"

    "Because you don't," Christine cried. Her inhale that followed was a sharp little squeak, her eyes watering as she glared up at him. "We were supposed to have a life together! We were supposed to leave that God-forsaken town together, yet I was the one left behind."

    "You think I didn't want a life with you," he demanded, gripping her shoulders tightly so she couldn't pull away; "that I haven't regretted letting you slip away every fucking day since I left?"

    "Then why didn't you come back?"

    "I did!"

    That caught her by surprise. She shook her head. "No... No, you didn't..."

    "Yes, Christine; I did. I went back after... After Indonesia..." She stared into his eyes, shame overtaking her as she realized he wasn't lying about this any more than she had been lying about the letters she'd sent that he'd never received. "You weren't there... You were supposed to be there..."

    "I'm sorry..." She whispered pulling him to her; "I'm sorry, I should have been; I'm so sorry."

    James held her tight. A part of him worried for a moment about how tightly he held onto her, but after a moment he didn't give a damn. He needed this. He needed her. Her tears soaked into his shirt as his hands found their way into her hair; comforting her the way she comforted him back. "I wanted to hate you... I wanted to forget you."

    "So did I..." she whispered back. "I couldn't stay... I'm sorry... I couldn't keep waiting."

    "I know. You never should have had to." James held her. He held her like he once had; as if he had never let her go and never would again. He felt her hands clutch his shirt, her face nuzzling into his heart where she had resided for over twenty-five years; a space she'd likely occupy for the rest of his life. "You need to get some rest; let the rest of us figure things out for a while," he whispered into the top of her head, kissing her right at her crown.

    "In all the years you've known me, have I ever been able to sleep in a place I didn't feel safe in?"

    "Why don't you feel safe; I'm here... So's that Grant guy you're shacking up with."

    She rolled her eyes at his bitterness. "I'm not shacking up with anyone. And he's not exactly thrilled with me right now. And if you think you're enough to make me feel safe when there are three men overseeing at least four mercenaries who would slaughter me at the drop of a hat, you're barmy."

    He wanted to ask about Grant, to pry for selfish reasons but he knew she wouldn't budge beyond what she'd already said. Instead, he decided to focus on reassuring her. "They can sure as hell try..." He moved her hair from her eyes, such a perfect shade of honey brown at the moment as she smirked up at him. It wasn't fair how beautiful she still was.

    "What are you thinking," she asked, her voice soft as she just continued to stare up at him.

    James smiled softly. "The first time I saw your eyes... I was climbing that tree, you were running from your mom..."

    "Ah, the day we met; the ironing board incident..."

    "Yeah," he smirked. "You climbed up that tree so fast I thought you were part cat."

    "I was panic-stricken; she'd never been so angry with me."

    "You were such a scrawny little thing; more hair and bony limbs than anything."

    Christine chuckled, remembering. "You called me fuzzball..."

    "I did... But I knew you were trouble even then. Those eyes told me so." He cupped her face and pulled her close, kissing her softly; she didn't resist. It was short, sweet, dare he admit, tender; it was everything that every kiss before had been and it only made the longing in his heart hurt all the more. She hummed softly, her eyes still shut as she pulled her bottom lip into her mouth as if savoring his taste; the taste of tobacco, whiskey, and bad decisions. It was the grown-up version of the taste of the boy she'd loved and the man she still wanted. "I never forgot you. Not for one second."

    "Yes... You did," she said softly back, not bothering to hide her pain any longer. "Not that I blame you... It's only been nineteen years. Sort of expected you to."

    He shook his head. "No... No, I never forgot you but I spent a hell of a lot of time trying not to remember... You're a memory I don't mess with, Trouble."

    "I know... I feel the same about you."

    "I never should have left."

    "I don't want to do this... Please..."

    His face fell. "Why are you so adamant on avoiding it?"

    "Because I'm afraid," she snapped. The admittance of her fear, so blunt and honest, threw him. "I'm afraid... Of letting you back in only for you to walk out again. How am I supposed to just... pretend like the last nineteen years haven't existed; like you never left me without an explanation or even a goodbye? How am I supposed to let you go when the only time I have ever liked myself was when I was with you; when every time I am with anybody else all I can think about is how they're not you?" He wiped at her tears, cupping her face in his hands once again as he tried to find the right words. "I don't want to lose you again... And I don't even have you. Do you have any idea how much you're screwing with me right now?"

    "I... I'm not trying to-"

    "Yet you are! You don't get to just waltz back in after nineteen years and make me feel the way I did when I was with you. You can't just jump back into my life when I set the boundary, when I told you this was business and not pleasure, and try to pick up where we left things, where you left things. I waited... I waited for years, even after I left for school I waited. And you... You... It's not fair. It is not fair that nobody understands me like you and yet I can't have you..."

    "You can. You have me, Christine," James said softly, kissing her again. "You have me. I let you go once and it was the worst mistake of my life; you think I'm letting you leave ever again?"

    Christine just stared up and into his eyes, shaking her head softly. "That's not your choice... I... I've moved on... Alan-"

    "Alan isn't me. I... I know that's a bold statement-"

    "An egotistically vain one-"

    "Whatever. I... I wouldn't give me a second chance either if I was in your shoes but he's not me, Chris. He doesn't know you like I do; doesn't respect you like I do. He doesn't know your favorite color, the eight different meanings behind the colors of your eyes, or that you have six smiles. And while he might also appreciate dirt in a way I never could, he's never going to appreciate all of the stories of how and where you collected that dirt from... You will never mean to him what you mean to me. And I say that as a man who can admit that I've tried so fucking hard to find someone who does and I know you have to."

    She shook her head again, fighting with herself to push him away as she began to cry. "You're wrong... And the worst part is you don't even know why you're wrong."

    "Chris-"

    "Stop. Please..." she begged. "Stop trying to make me let you back in. Just stop... before I say something I'll regret."

    James whispered her name, pulling her back, his blue eyes pleading. "Christine please, I don't want to leave things like this..."

    "It wouldn't be the first time... At least now I know how to put the pieces back together." She was being cruel without realizing it. Or maybe she was just being honest for the first time. She pulled away again, stopping him from taking hold of her once more. "Please... Just let me go. I don't want to be a cruel bitch and if you keep at this that's exactly what I'm going to be..."

    "I can handle it," he argued, pulling her back despite her attempts to stop him. He felt her shiver, liking the fact that he could manhandle her despite herself. He wondered if Alan knew that; worse, he wondered if he'd tried and failed. "I can handle it because I deserve every bit of it. You want to yell at me, scream, cuss, or let out nineteen years of pain and frustration; go right ahead. If you want to hit me; I can take it. Just don't walk away again."

    "No... No. You don't deserve that. You don't deserve what I'd say any more than I did to experience it..."

    "I do. I do deserve it, Christine. I'm tired of you pretending I don't and I don't want to keep doing this dance... I'm here." James' voice quivered this time, his hurt unable to remain hidden. He wanted to know, hell, he needed to know. No matter how much shame or guilt it made him feel, he needed to know what she had gone through after he'd left.

    Christine was resolute though. Pursing her lips, she shook her head. "You're here..." She chuckled darkly, wiping at her eyes. "Yeah. You're here alright... Making promises again that you don't intend to keep, making me watch as you fuck other women as if I never existed or mattered, to begin with."

    "I thought... I thought it would help; that it would make things easier."

    "Make things easier? Like leaving me without a word."

    "You deserved better. I knew you'd figure it out."

    "Figure it out?" Again, she chuckled; her eyes a dark greyish green, like the sky before a tornado, a mixture of pain and rage. "You thought I'd just... figure it out; at eighteen? Well, that's lovely to know that you thought at nearly nineteen that I would figure out how to handle that alone."

    "What did you expect me to do? I was rudely woken up, dragged back home, and sent off to basic before I understood exactly what was happening. You act like I could have done something different-"

    "You could have fought! You could have stayed."

    "Is that what you would have done?"

    "YES!" She screamed behind her lips, her hands balled into fists. "I don't care what I would have had to do, who I would have had to hurt, or how far I would have had to walk; I wouldn't have left! I would, and did, sacrifice everything to have stayed, I would have fought, I would-"

    "You think I enjoyed being away from you? You think I didn't want to come back to you? I didn't want you to have to deal with that, with the fallout that would have caused with my mother-"

    "No, you just left me to deal with her alone, like a coward! The James Conrad I knew wasn't a coward. The James Conrad I loved would have never just left me, left us, left-"

    "I would have been AWOL if I had just left."

    "Do you think I give a shit if you would have been AWOL or dishonorably discharged or anything else when I was back home listening to both of our mothers telling me to accept that this was better? Better for who, Jim? Cause it certainly wasn't me. Not when I was the one writing letters and calling every base I knew the name of hoping against hope that I'd get connected to you while everything bounced back; while our mothers told me that it was better this way, that I wouldn't be hurting like I was had I just kept my legs closed, that-"

    "They said that?" James was shocked. He knew their mothers were cruel, that they had always been critical of Christine; still, he didn't want to accept this as truth. Even if he knew deep down that it was incredibly on par with their other behavior.

    Christine just stared at him, shock and grief written all over her face. "You... You really still don't know, do you?"

    "Know what? That my mother was a right cunt and yours was a trollied slag?"

    "No, I... I mean yes, b-b-but-" She cut herself off, sinking to her knees as she clutched her heart and began to hyperventilate.

    Panicked, James sank to the floor beside her. "Chris... Christine, what's wrong?"

    "Everything... Everything is wrong... and nothing matters... Nothing matters to anyone but me..." She muttered. He watched as she was racked by silent sobs, her body shaking like a leaf as she reached over for her notebook, clutching it to her chest like a bible as she tried to calm herself. "The worst part in all of this is how much you don't know.... How much I just had to... live with and carry alone..."

    "Baby... Baby, look at me," James begged, grabbing her face and pulling her to him until their foreheads touched. "You're safe. You're here... You're with me. You matter. You matter so much, Baby; you're not alone... I promise. I'll never let you be alone again." He had no idea what it was that he had never been told and right then, it didn't matter to him. All that did matter was that she was alright. 

    He held her tightly as she sobbed, clutching her notebook with everything he needed to know hidden inside, unable to give it to him. Christine sobbed, wanting to tell him everything; to share every secret, yet she knew she couldn't. If there was anything his mother had gotten right, it was in keeping them apart; in not ruining his fabulous military career or her dream of becoming a doctor of sorts. While she would always despise the woman for making her live with the secrets tucked away in her notebook, Christine was also thankful that it, and only it, would be the reason why she would be able to walk away again and again so that James could have the life he was always meant to have. Even if it didn't include her and left him with nothing but questions that could never be answered.