Rest and Recovery, Part 1

Posted on Fri Aug 20th, 2021 @ 3:15pm by First Lieutenant Bethany Harrison & Captain Jonathon Harrison
Edited on on Fri Aug 20th, 2021 @ 3:16pm

Mission: The Factions
Location: Montana
Timeline: Current

The green-eyed brawler sighed heavily and dropped the one bag of gear that Jon would allow her to carry into the closet just inside the door of their comfortable dual level home. Bethany would deal with sorting it out in the morning. At that moment, she just wanted a shower and her bed. And Jon, if she could convince him that she wasn’t going to fall apart.

“You hungry?” Jon asked. “I can start something.” He headed for the kitchen.

She grabbed Jon’s hand as he moved by her, tugging at it gently, and moving around to stop him by standing in front of him. Bethany reached up and ran her fingers gently down his face, gazing into the eyes that still colored her dreams. “Talk to me. You’ve been a bit distant. Are you alright?”

“I’m fine. Just worried about you,” Jon said. “As always.” He gave her a reassuring smile.

Jon had a smile that could melt most women, and it really wasn’t any different for her. But she knew that sometimes that smile was meant to hide something. Bethany couldn’t feel any deception from him, though. “You worry too much,” she teased. “I’m a pretty tough little nut.”

She stepped in a little closer to him, her hands sliding up his toned chest, around his neck, agile fingers running into the hair at the back of his neck. “You need a haircut,” she said with a smile, pressing herself to him.

“I’ll arrange to get one,” Jon promised, smiling at the younger woman pressed against him.

Bethany gave a bit of a frustrated growl. She leaned up and gave Jon a kiss, then pulled away with a sigh. “I guess I’ll take a shower while you cook,” she said, seeming a bit disappointed, and headed towards the stairs.

Jon watched Bethany go upstairs. He had showered at the base while they had treated Bethany. He went to the closet and pulled out a pair of bags, then went to the kitchen to make some quick cold sandwiches, nothing that would require cleaning up or leaving dirty dishes behind.

As Bethany stood in the shower, allowing the scalding hot water to run through her thick hair, over her skin, her mind worried over finding out that she had a price on her head. It wasn’t like she wasn’t used to people being after her. Lorde had been at it for years, but he tended to try far different methods, and she knew he didn’t want her dead. He was actually creepily protective of her.

Eva. Her half-sister. She could definitely imagine her being the one trying to have her offed, but then, she also thought that she might want that pleasure for herself. It had been a nearly devastating shock to find out that the Ice Queen was actually the Preacher’s eldest child. She felt sorry for her, but she had to be careful. Eva hated Bethany with a passion beyond reason.

And her mothers family? Why would Dyami think that? She didn’t know them, and she doubted they knew of her, as they had disowned her mother when she married the Preacher. As she soaped her hair up with the rose and lavender shampoo that she liked so much, she didn’t even register the smell. As a matter of fact, the scents that filled her senses all of a sudden, were gunpowder and blood. Bethany gasped, her hands slipping from her hair as she found herself trying to fight off the flood of memories of that day. The day that she killed them all.

Jon lifted his head. He sent a silent inquiry along his link with Bethany to check if she was okay.

She felt Jon’s presence grow stronger, but he still seemed distant, just out of reach. Bethany began blinking rapidly, and she sat down hard, grasping at her head and curling up into a ball in the large, claw-footed bathtub that she had insisted upon getting. Tears rolled down her face and her jaw tightened, her teeth grinding as she whimpered, “No. No. No.”

Jon bounded up the stairs and into the bathroom, pulling open the door. “Bethany, love,” he said, ignoring the water as he reached in to pull her out.

Bethany struggled against Jon, absently trying to free herself from his grasp, her gaze fixed and blank. “No. You can’t... No,” she said, her voice a rough whisper as tears continued to roll down her face. “Don’t die...don’t die.”

Jon focused. He gave Bethany a hard mental jolt through the link, hoping to disrupt whatever mental process held her in its grip.

Fear and agonizing emotional turmoil, all welled up at once. Then there was a stark shot of clarity. She was home. It wasn’t the commune. Every muscle in her body was aching, her ribs squealing in protest after her drop into the tub. Wide, startled eyes stared at Jon uncomprehending for a moment, then she nearly launched herself at him, wrapping her arms around him and pulling him in tightly, burying her face in his neck as she sobbed. “My fault. All my fault.”

“Nothing is your fault, love,” Jon murmured, lifting her easily out of the shower. “You’re safe.”

There were reasons that Bethany avoided talking about her mother. She had been the dearest thing in her life, and the green-eyed brawler fully blamed herself for her death. She could never tell what would dredge up those memories that felt like they just sucked the life out of her, and dropped her to her knees, reliving every horrifying moment as she watched her precious mama die.

“Sorry, I’m sorry,” Bethany muttered, shaking from stress and the sudden chill of being wet and soapy. “Your shirt’s wet.”

“I have more shirts,” Jon said, grabbing one of the large, fluffy towels from the cabinet and wrapping it around Bethany.

“I wish that would stop,” Bethany said, much more compliant, almost absently so, as Jon helped her. That horrified look was still caught in her emerald gaze. “I can’t even talk about her anymore, I guess.” That thought shot another pain through her heart. “I’m sorry. I don’t mean to be a pain. I love you,” she said, pressing close to Jon, holding onto him as though she was afraid to let go.

“I know, love,” Jon murmured, holding her wrapped in the towel. They stayed there for a while before Jon spoke again. “I have a surprise for you.”

The young woman took in her first deep breath, then let it out slowly. Bethany finally managed to release the death grip that she had on Jon, and pulled back a bit to look at the man that she loved. Her slender, well-toned body was still shaking, though less out of panic, and more out of exhaustion. “A surprise?” she asked softly, curiously.

Jon smiled. “Yes,” was all Jon said as he helped Bethany to her feet.

Bethany gave Jon a small smile, teasing him weakly. “What? That’s it? You’re just leaving me hanging?” She rose with him, took another deep breath and found her footing. “I think that the whole bounty thing hit me a little harder than I thought it would. I mean, I expect this kind of weirdness from Lorde, now.”

Again she laid her head on Jon’s chest, just revelling in his closeness, allowing him to help her to process the confusing rush of emotions through their bond. “It’s not knowing who they are, I think.”

“Well, this should take your mind off it. We’ve got another mission,” Jon told her. “Dyami called while you were in the shower.”

“A mission?” Bethany asked, seeming more than a little confused. They normally had at least a few days of downtime between missions. Dyami was more of a father to her than her own had been, and he didn’t like sending her out when she was injured. “I thought we were told to stand down for a while.”

“Something came up,” Jon said. “An emergency that only we can handle. Think you’re up to it?” Jon asked.

The green-eyed brawler laughed softly and shrugged. There was something weird going on, but she couldn’t prove it. It was just a feeling. “If we’re the only ones that can handle it, then I don’t have much of a choice. I’m fine,” she said, reaching up to gently stroke Jon’s cheek.

“Get dressed,” Jon said. “I’ll load the truck.” He kissed her again, glad to have distracted her from her waking nightmares.

Bethany happily returned his kiss, then nodded. “I should probably rinse the soap off,” she said, blushing, obviously embarrassed by the strange, if not entirely abnormal, outburst. “I’ll be ready in a few minutes.”

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TBC
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