Author: Anne
Email: Deweycat@yahoo.com
Title: The Long Dark Night Of The Soul
Rating: PG
Category: Best Webb Romance
Spoilers: Vague ones, up through "Lawyers, Guns and Money"
Disclaimer: Not mine. I just borrowed them for a few minutes.
Feedback: Please, no flames
Archive: Fine, as long as you tell me where
Author's Notes: Sometimes the middle of a tortured night brings some light of its own along with it.
:: :: ::
'God! This is torture.'
And it was self-inflicted torture, no less, which only made it even more painful. And pathetic. If he were being even the tiniest bit sensible, he'd get up and sleep on the floor, rather than keep lying there, feeling the warmth radiating from her body, smelling the tantalizing scent of her perfume, mixed with the familiar smells of toothpaste and soap, wafting across the pillow towards him, released every time she quietly moved. But he was anything but sensible when it came to Sarah Mackenzie, he'd discovered over the past two days.
'Two days, my ass! Try eight years.'
He could have found someone else to come on this mission with him, some woman that he didn't find so attractive, or distracting. The thought had briefly crossed his mind, but the possibility of getting to spend so much time in her company had made all the obstacles seem insignificant. But now, with her so close, and yet so very far away, it was a different proposition.
'Big mistake, buddy.'
He wondered how they could be only six inches apart, and still have the distance feel as if it were wider than the Grand Canyon. There she lay, looking so soft and touchable. The planes of her cheeks, the curve of her breast, the rounded firmness of her all-too-perfect ass. And all he had to do was reach out one hand, and all of that perfection would be his...
'Yeah, and you'd risk losing that hand, too. Don't forget that.'
Although it was true that he was having a difficult time sleeping in the same bed with her, that wasn't what had him awake in the middle of the night. No, instead he'd been awakened ten minutes earlier, the sound of his own snores shocking him into wakefulness. He'd been waiting all day for her to make some smart-ass comment about his snoring from last night. In fact, he'd prepared the perfect comeback, which he couldn't wait to spring on her. When the inevitable complaint came, and he was just sure it would, he'd point out that, until her boss had broken his nose, he hadn't *had* a snoring problem.
'That ought to shut her up.'
But no matter what the reason, now here he lay, right next to her in the bed, torturing himself with her closeness. True, her closeness had tortured him last night, too; but then he'd been so tired that he'd been able to submerge those feelings in his need for sleep. But tonight was a different story; he was too keyed up, thinking about tomorrow, to let sleep come easily. It was too easy to let images of her fill his mind, when the alternative was thinking about all the ways in which tomorrow's operation could go wrong. Despite the safeguards that he'd tried to put in place, there were no guarantees that they'd come out of this alive, or in one piece. But no matter what went down, he'd already decided that protecting her was going to be his first priority.
'You really ought to get some more sleep.'
But, the fact was, he was afraid he'd have another dream like he'd had earlier. No nightmare, that. He shook his head, trying to remove the visions that had invaded his nighttime imaginings. It wasn't like he'd never before had dreams where Sarah Mackenzie had taken the starring role, but now his dreams were fueled by knowledge, where before only imagination had supplied details. Now he knew what she looked like in repose, with all the day's cares removed from her face. Now he was intimately familiar with her own individual fragrance. Now he knew those funny, little noises she made as she dreamed, noises that never quite reached what could be called vocalization. Now he knew, and he knew that he'd never forget, exactly what she felt like to the touch. After all, he'd spent the past two days pretending to be her husband. Not that he'd taken advantage of that fact.
'Oh, who are you kidding?'
If he were honest with himself, he had to admit that he'd taken every possible opportunity to touch her; taking her arm when crossing a street or helping her in and out of a car, helping her put on and take off that necklace, and putting that wedding ring onto her hand. Each time, his touch lingered just a fraction too long for mere politeness. Each time, he'd stepped into her personal space just a little too closely. The amazing thing, though, was that she hadn't said a word about it.
'I wonder what game she's playing?'
There was no doubt that they were both playing a game, teasing each other, pushing each other's buttons, seeing just how far they could go without crossing that unspoken, yet clearly visible, line. He'd come close to kissing her the night before, when they'd been in the middle of teasing each other about the other one's pitiful personal life. The only thing that had stopped him had been that she'd had a mouthful of toothpaste, and that he wasn't quite sure what she might have done to him with the toothbrush she'd been wielding at the time. Now, of course, he was kicking himself for not taking up the challenge.
'Faint heart ne'er won fair lady, you wuss!'
His thoughts drifted back to the dream he'd had; it had been a variation on a common theme, where he and Sarah made wild passionate love, right there on the top of the Admiral's desk. While he'd had similar dreams before -- always after seeing her, so prim and proper, sitting in a chair in Chegwidden's office -- this one had seemed particularly vivid. One of these days he was going to do something about making that particular dream into a reality.
'Oh, yeah. You wish!'
The dream had been so lifelike that he'd awakened to find himself wrapped around Sarah's slumbering body, his erection pressed between them. He'd very slowly, very carefully shifted himself away from her, trying not to awaken her. His luck held, for, despite all of his movement, Sarah never awakened, just stirring a little at the loss of contact and body warmth. And now he rested his head on the pillow next to hers, and just watched her sleep, watching her breathe. The time they'd spent together the past two days was something he knew he'd treasure for the rest of his life; somehow, it was different than any other time they'd ever spent together before.
'It's calmer... definitely quieter... And somehow, infinitely better.'
She stirred again, apparently chilled by the removal of his body. Unconsciously, she burrowed closer to him, seeking his warmth. He held his breath, afraid to waken her. Realizing, finally, that she wasn't going to awaken any time soon, he relaxed, just enjoying the closeness. Lying there in the bed next to her, he couldn't help but be conscious of her warmth, of the comforting way her arm draped around him, of the soothing sound and feel of the slow, steady beat of her heart against his chest. And this time, unable to help himself, he reached out one hand and gently touched her face, feeling his heart breaking just a little as his fingers stroked her skin.
'Is this love?'
After all this time, and after all that each had been through, he didn't have the answer to his own question. All that he knew was that he felt complete trust in this woman, something he'd never felt with anyone before. And now that he'd found it, he didn't think he'd be willing to give it up. Slowly, bit by bit, he drifted off to sleep again, his thoughts still centered on the woman next to him.
'God! This is great.'