The last time. 

I was struck with that thought as I walked the final few steps to her front door.  This may be the last time I walk this path, enter this house, see her face in the afternoon light.  What would I remember?  What would she?  Would she even think of me after I was gone?

I approached her quietly, almost stealthily, as she sat in the loveseat, staring out the window.

“Peter’s alive,” I said gently.

Her shoulders dropped and she looked exhausted.  “Terry, stop this.  Please.”

I knelt before her.

“Look into my eyes,” I said firmly.  She reluctantly complied.

“We tracked Marco down,” I continued, undaunted.   “I just talked to him, face to face.”

Her eyes met mine but held no expression.

“He confirmed Peter’s still alive.  He and Kessler tried to escape, but Peter didn’t make it out and was recaptured.”

She seemed stunned, unable to take it in, almost catatonic.  I sat next to her and kept my tone low and comforting, even though the next words would scare her.

“But Marco says the deal is off.  There won’t be any money exchange.” 

She still didn’t react: no change of expression, no questions.  All I could do was keep going and hope she understood.

“He also confirmed that the man Dino’s been negotiating for is being held at the same camp.  That deal is off, too.” 

She started to frown.  She began to realize it wasn’t over.

“So we’re going in.  Tomorrow.”  I spoke slowly.  “When Dino saw Kessler’s map, he called his nearest crew.  They’re flying in this afternoon.  We’re going into the camp tomorrow to get Dino’s man and Peter.”

She took an audible breath and spoke.

“But Eric said there were a lot of troops there, guarding them.”

“Yeah, that’s where you come in.  I need you to help set up a diversion to drain the camp of as many soldiers as possible and level the playing field.  I’ll walk you through it first thing tomorrow.  We’re gonna use Fellner.  It will mean you’ll have to lie to him.  Will you help?”

“Yes, of course.”  She sat up straighter, now fully engaged.   “But…but what if it doesn’t work?”

“We’ll face that tomorrow.”

“No, I know you have a contingency plan.  What if the diversion doesn’t work?”

“We’ll go in anyway.”

“Against those odds?” 

“It’s part of the job.  I’ve faced worse.”

“Terry, now is not the time to be flippant.” She paused.  “I know what you’re risking.”

“Look, this is what we’re trained for and we’re good at it,” I assured her.   “I know Dino gets wound up sometimes, but he knows his shit.  And I trust him with my life.”

“Will it come to that?”

It always came to that, but she didn’t need to hear it.

“In any special ops mission, it’s all in the quality of your intel and your unit.  The map looks good and there’s no one else I’d rather have with me than Dino.”

She took a deeper breath and softened her expression and tone.

“Terry, I’m sorry I slapped you.”

I shook my head.  “Don’t be.  I had it coming.  For a couple of good reasons.” 

I gently brushed the hair out of her eyes and attempted an apology.  

“I should never have referred to Peter as cargo.  Normally, I would have been more tactful, but I just couldn’t come to terms with having lost the chance to…”

I took a breath. 

“I promised you.  I promised myself I’d bring him home to you.  I couldn’t accept the idea that I’d failed you.  So I defaulted to military mode.  I’m sorry.”
 
She shook her head and touched my hand to reassure me.   I needed her to know the depth of my commitment.

“Alice, on the first day I came here, I promised you I’d do everything I could to bring him home safely.  You thought I was just bullshitting.”

“Terry, I didn’t know you …”

“It was just bullshit.  We tell everybody that on the first day.  It helps calm them down.” 

I took her hand in mine and held her gaze.

“But I’m telling you now: I will do everything I can.  Everything.  To bring him home to you.”  I searched her eyes.  “You know that, don’t you?”  

She nodded and squeezed my hand. 

I managed a calm smile.

“Dino and I have a lot of work to do to prepare for tomorrow, so I’ll be spending the rest of the day with him, getting equipment and supplies, mapping out the plan.  I’ll ask Maria to stay with you. Will you be alright?”

How often had I stared into those eyes?  I had seen this look before.  It was the same one I saw that evening when the sun went down and so did my defenses.  When I held her and felt my heart fill up with her.  It was the same look of fearful desperation.  She was almost pleading.

“Will you come back here after you’re finished?”

I tried to sound like I was torn. 

“It’ll be pretty late.”

But of course I would come back.  I couldn’t be away from her now.  I knew this would be my last night to be near her.  Tomorrow everything would change.  If I brought him back, I’d leave because the mission was over.  If I failed, I’d leave because I wouldn’t be able to face her.

“I’ll wait for you,” she whispered.

She’d wait for me.  I swallowed hard and tried not to outwardly burst as my chest swelled with her words. 

Truth was, even if she hadn’t asked me, I would have found a way back to her.  I’d have made up some pretense to check if she was okay, if she needed anything.  

Or anyone.

I silently shook that thought from my mind so I could focus on the mission.

***

I drove to Dino’s makeshift headquarters, still reeling from the idea that Alice would wait for me to return.  Each moment with her gained a new importance as our time together was drawing to an end.

Dino had the map out and was staring at it as if it would speak instructions aloud if he was just patient enough.  I took it from him and began the analysis and strategy.  He wasn’t much for planning.  He was better at the actual plan execution, so I knew he would expect me to take the lead.

His crew arrived and looked competent.  His confidence in them would suffice.  Dino had trained them himself so I knew their priorities would already be instilled: focus, do your assigned job, accomplish the full mission, never leave a man behind. 

When I explained that I wanted Alice to set up the diversion with Fellner, Dino paused and leaned into me.

“Are you in love with this woman?”

Love?  He babbled something after that, but the word itself redirected my thinking so I heard nothing else. 

Love?  I had never allowed myself to think of the concept of it, let alone its manifestation.  Was that what I was feeling?  No.  Of course not.  I didn’t have the right to.  It wasn’t sensible; it wasn’t reasonable; it wasn’t allowed.  It would interfere with the job.

The expression on my face sent the message.  He dropped it and focused again on the perils of the plan.  I knew the danger would excite rather than deter him, so at the end of his ramblings I simply said, “So we’re on then?”

His smile and handshake cemented it.  Whether the diversion worked or not, whether the odds were outside of a realistic margin or not, we were on. 

We assembled the required supplies, ammunition and gear.  It is truly amazing how easily one can purchase military equipment in third world countries.  Prices were reasonable; selection was comprehensive.  We rounded up what would make us comfortable, but not be too cumbersome, went over the plan again, and finally decided to call it a night.

As I walked toward my car I casually remarked, “If you need to get in touch with me tonight, I’ll be over at...”

“Yeah,” he nodded, without judgment.

***

When I arrived at her house, it was much later than I had intended.  Dino and I often lost track of time while fine tuning strategy and finalizing purchases. 

I thought she might even be asleep, so I crept quietly in through the back. 

The night was steamy hot and I was drenched with sweat. I headed for the bathroom, stripped off my shirt and soothed a cold washcloth over my torso.  The spare shirt I always kept there unfortunately had long sleeves, which promised more sweat again, so I pulled on only a black tank top.  Then I went to check on Alice in the bedroom.  

I found her, instead, in the kitchen, pacing and shivering.

“You can’t be cold,” I said lightly, “it must be 100 degrees tonight.”

She jerked at the sound of my voice, but looked relieved I had finally arrived.

“I’m not cold,” her voice choked as she turned away from me.

No, she was scared.  I could see it now, not shivering, trembling.  I approached her, but she took a few steps away and stopped.  She spoke with her back to me.

“I don’t understand it.  I’m as scared again as I was when this first started.”

“That’s natural.”  I said calmly.  “You get into a sort of comfortable status quo during the negotiations.  As long as you’re talking, you know everyone is okay.  The day before the exchange, it gets a little tougher.  It’s common.”

She still stood with her back to me.  I took a step forward, but her shoulders tensed, so I stopped.

“Where’s Maria?” I asked quietly.  “I asked her to stay with you.  I didn’t want you to be alone tonight.”

“I sent her home,” she said vaguely. “I told her I was going to bed.”

“That’s not a bad idea.  You should get some sleep.  I need you to be sharp tomorrow.”

She crossed her arms and gripped her shoulders, as if she could stop the trembling with the force of her own grasp.

“I can’t sleep when I’m shaking like this.”

“Then let me calm you down.”

Without looking back, she reached her hand behind her toward me.

“Will you stay with me tonight?”

Of course I would.  I’m not sure anything could have pulled me away from her. 

I stretched my arm toward her and caressed her hand with mine.  It felt like the first time she had touched me. 

I remembered it so clearly.  It was the morning after I had returned to take the case.  I was trying to calm her as she sat on the kitchen floor crying, the tension finally breaking her down.  I put my hand on her bended knee to reassure her, something I’d never done with a client before.  She laid her forehead on my hand and her tears trickled onto my fingers.  Then she covered my hand with hers, just briefly.

Something about her touch woke a dormant well of feeling in me, stirred an emotion I wasn’t sure was even there.  I knew at that moment I would help her, I would be with her through it all, I would fight her fight.  

And somewhere, deeper inside me, I knew I would come to need her.

And I had.  The power of her touch was still there, but the electricity of it had intensified during our weeks together.  And this would be the last night I could feel that spark. 

“I’ll stay,” I reassured her.  “But you do need some sleep.  Come on.”

I interlocked my fingers with hers and turned her toward me.  She had been crying.  She looked almost childlike in her pajamas.  I walked her silently to the bedroom.

“Lie down and I’ll help you get to sleep.  I recently learned a great technique for that,” I smiled.

Her voice was weak.  “It doesn’t work on me.  Would you hold me until I stop shaking?”

As much as I wanted to, I fought it and offered something safer.

“Shivering is caused by muscle tension.” I assured her.  “How about I massage your shoulders and neck to calm you a bit?”

She seemed almost catatonic again, like earlier in the day.  It was exhaustion.  It was fear.  It was loneliness.  She silently complied.

The night was too hot for blankets so I pulled them off, leaving only the sheet.

She curled into a fetal position on her right side in the center of the bed, her back to me.  I laid along side her and focused on the contour of her neck, the top hugging her ribs, the thin pajama material encircling her waist and sloping over her hips down to bare feet.   Her trembling was even more noticeable now.

I began a light kneading of her neck muscle.  She eased into the motion of my hand readily and hummed a low tone.  I increased the pressure and extended my range to include her shoulder and down her arm.  She slid herself closer to me.

“Hold me, Terry.  Please.”  Her voice was barely audible.

I slid my right arm under her head, wrapped myself around the curve of her body and held her.  The dizziness I had felt during our kiss returned only slightly and I opened my eyes to gain control.  She squirmed against me, arching her back away.

“Your belt buckle.” 

I released my hold on her, unbuckled and slid the belt from its loops.  I emptied my pockets of change, keys, and lighter and put them all on the nightstand. 

Rolling back toward her I fought the urge to caress further, and instead pressed my arm across her ribs, pulling her closer to me.  We lay spooned there.  I could feel my heart beating against her back.  I tried to pull away a bit so she wouldn’t feel it, but she gripped my arm and pulled me closer still. 

The trembling had not yet subsided.  In fact, it was almost as if I had joined her in the steady motion of it.  She rocked her head uncomfortably.

“Your bicep makes a lousy pillow,” she squirmed.  “It’s hard as a rock.”

“Sorry,” I offered and slid my arm under her neck, pulling a pillow over to support her head.

“Terry,” she began, “I don’t know how I would have gotten through this without you.”

I spoke lightly.  “That’s the job, ma’am.”

Her tone was serious.  “I doubt you treat all your clients the way you’ve been with me.”

She was right.  I had never been this way with anyone, client or otherwise.  But I couldn’t say it, so I continued to reassure her.

“You’d have made it.  You have an incredible inner strength.” I held her tighter.  “I’ve watched a lot of people go through this and you’re one of the strongest I’ve ever met.” 

I suddenly realized how different it felt to comfort someone you actually cared for.  I was used to scripted phrases to calm clients through the rough patches.  But holding her and speaking the truth about her strength seemed so much more important and real.  

There was a silence that followed.  I wanted to get something off my mind, something that would haunt me if I didn’t try.

“Alice, I need to apologize for the way I spoke to you this morning.  Not just about Peter, but earlier in the kitchen.”

“It’s okay,” she whispered.

“It’s not okay,” I insisted quietly.   “I was just embarrassed that you knew about last night.  I was angry at myself and I lashed out at you.  It’s an old habit of mine.  I’m sorry.”

“It doesn’t matter now.”

“It matters more than ever now.”  Couldn’t she see it?  Hadn’t she realized it yet?  Was there a good way to say it?  “I don’t want you to have any negative memories of me.”

She stiffened in my arms.

“Jesus, Terry, I’m not scared enough?  Now you have to talk fatalistically?”

I whispered to calm her. 

“I don’t mean it like that.  I fully intend to survive the rescue mission.”  I fought the urge to kiss the crown of her head.  “But how ever it plays out, you and I will be saying good bye tomorrow.”

She tensed again and I could feel the realization of it spreading through her.

“I … I don’t understand,” she fumbled.

“After tomorrow, when this is over, you won’t have any …”  I stopped myself.  I almost said she wouldn’t have any need for me, but it was too hard to say aloud.  “My job will be done so I’ll be leaving.”

She strengthened her grip on my arm, but said nothing.  I wanted to see her face, to read the emotions on it.  But her back was to me so I could only imagine, only wish.  Would she miss me?  Was she worried about my chances of survival?  Was she feeling the growing power of our closeness?

I had more to explain, so I whispered to her.  The softness of my voice made it seem more intimate still, as if you needed to be this close to be heard at all.

“I just don’t want your last thoughts of me to be our argument this morning.”

She took a shallow breath.  “Some of the things I said to you were pretty harsh.”

“You might have been right about one thing.  I don’t know if I’m becoming a better man.  If last night is any indication, I guess I’m not.”  I swallowed hard at the truth of it.  “But being here, I’ve at least gotten a glimpse of what else might be possible.”

She angled her head back into my chest and nestled it there.  I took a breath and kept whispering.

“But when you said that being with that woman meant more to me than being here, that was wrong.”  I wanted to bury my face in her hair, but resisted.   “Every moment here has been better than any of that.”

I could feel the intensity with which she was listening to me. 

“It’s not that I prefer that kind of woman, it’s just,” I took a breath, “that’s the only kind of interaction that … seems to be available to me.” 

That thought pierced my heart and reminded me of the life I would be returning to.

Her voice pulled me out of that sudden rush of loneliness.

“Can I ask you a personal question, Terry?”

I laughed quietly at the irony.  Did she ever ask any other kind?

“That’d be a first for you.”

She started a giggle, but then spoke in a soft, serious tone. 

“Since those are the only encounters you’ve ever had, and I know you said yours was a loveless marriage,” she took a deep breath, “I’m just wondering if you’ve ever really,” she paused, “made love.”

I winced at the truth but couldn’t say it.  I was glad she couldn’t see my face.

An embarrassed nervousness edged her voice and she spoke quickly. 

“I mean, maybe there’s no difference for a man.  I don’t really know.”

“I’d like to think there would be,” I said slowly.  “I’ve imagined the ways it might be different.”

I held my breath, waiting for her response. 

“Have you ever imagined it,” she whispered, “with me?”

My body temperature soared and I almost said it: Yes, I’ve imagined it with you, and only with you.  The concept wasn’t even there before you.  I’ve dreamed it, day dreams and night sweats.  I’ve ached for it. 

My breathing may have betrayed it, but I wasn’t ready to say the words.  So I deflected it with an imposed lightness to my voice.

“You know, why is it always me who has to sound like I’m in a confessional?” I forced a laugh.  “We should have set a policy early on that you could only ask me questions you would be willing to answer yourself.”

My heart was beating faster, and I was glad she wasn’t looking at me.  But slowly, intently she rolled herself in my arms to face me.  The touch of her skin caressing mine as she twisted was as sweet as it was intense.  The gaze I had lost myself in so many times held me still and she spoke.

“I’ve imagined you making love to me.”  She searched my eyes.  “Have you?”

I felt a surge of strength rather than a fumbling lust, as if she had empowered every nerve and muscle in my body.  I wanted her so badly and yet was in control.  A new and strange combination.  A hint of a better man?

I swept the dangling hair from her eyes.   “Maybe we shouldn’t be talking like this.”

“Maybe we shouldn’t be talking at all,” she whispered. 

Her hands pulled at my top, freeing it from my trousers.  Her fingers slid up under the material, caressing my chest.  I ached for her touch but laid my hand over hers, stopping their movement.  She looked at me with a mixture of puzzlement and want.

 “Alice,” I said firmly, “you have to be sure.”

I kept myself steady.  This was too important to be impetuous about.

“If you had a change of heart and rejected me in the morning, it would …”

It would tear me apart.  It would undo me.

“It would interfere with my focus tomorrow.”

“I’ve been thinking about it for so long.  I won’t have a change of heart.”  She still searched my eyes, questioning.   “But … do you want me?”

I sighed a smile and held her face in my palm.

“Yesterday, after we kissed, it took all of my strength to pull myself back from you.  I’m not sure I could do it again.”

“Then don’t.”

And then she kissed me. 

She kissed me with a heat that made the night seem chilly by comparison.  Her lips parted, her tongue gently sought mine, her fingers eased through my hair.   Her chest pressed against mine so that our heart beats were indiscernible from each other.

This was happening.  Honestly happening. 

Not just from loneliness or physical need, but from a mutual desire, a mutual decision.  Mutual.  She wanted me.  Finally.  Together.   Without guilt.  Without doubt. 

My body longed to overtake her, but I held back, wanting my heart to lead.  She was so precious to me, I felt nervous all at once, as if I wasn’t sure what to do.  Performance anxiety now?  I closed my eyes and thought: what would I normally do next?  I’d reach for a condom and…then it hit me and I stopped completely, opened my eyes and sighed in disbelief.

“Alice,” my voice was breathless, “I didn’t plan on .. I never thought we’d … I don’t have any protection with me.”

“Do you always use them with your locals?” she asked.

“Always.”

She smiled. “Then there’s nothing to worry about.”  Her fingers played over my lips.  “Terry, make love to me.”

And so we began. 

I peeled off her pajamas like they were made of tissue paper and might tear if handled too roughly.  My top slid off quickly and I fumbled with the button on my trousers momentarily before it released.  I angled away from her to shed them and saw the candles on the nightstand.  Despite the tremble of my hand, my lighter shared its spark with them and provided just enough glow. 

When I turned back to face her, I was almost stunned by how beautiful she was, lying there naked, lit by candlelight, awaiting my touch.

This was Alice, whose tenderness had warmed me.  Alice, whom I’d dreamed of and ached for.  And now she was here in my arms, her skin gliding against mine.

I studied the edge of her cheek, the line of her chin, the sweep of her throat.  I’d never focused this intently on anyone.  I was memorizing it all to hold her forever.   I was etching her face on my heart.

All that I had imagined came easily.  I knew it would be different.  It couldn’t help but be.

Instead of hurrying, anxious for release, I wanted to take my time and make it last forever.  Instead of my usual selfish roughness, I caressed her softly, continuously.

My eyes spoke to hers with a vocabulary of their own, saying: I need to discover every inch of you, to touch you as I have in my dreams. 
 
The more I kissed her, the more I needed to.  We shared soft, slow, unending kisses that seemed to revive my desolate heart.  It wasn’t just physical desire.  It was like an addiction of the soul.  Never had any lips against mine felt as welcome, as needed, as erotic.

I kissed her neck and shoulders and worked my way down slowly, flicking my tongue lightly over her nipples until they hardened with desire.  My teeth pulled at them gently and I continued down over her stomach, but stopped short of exploring her completely.  I longed to engulf her mouth again, and wasn’t sure she would want the taste of herself on my lips.  Instead, I kissed the inside of each of her thighs until she squirmed.

All the while, my hands traced the landscape of her body and I shivered in response.  I wandered slowly back up along side her to kiss her neck, to feel the full length of her body’s skin against mine, to mingle my sweat with hers.

I had long imagined what touching her would do to me, but I was unprepared for the intensity of being touched by her.

Everywhere she soothed me, I rippled with sensation.  Her hands skimmed lightly across my back, over only the smooth places at first, as if she had memorized where the scars were and by avoiding them sought to convince me I was whole. 

But then, gently, as if sensing my unspoken permission, the very tips of her fingers caressed my scars, stroking them with an affection that made me understand they were a part of me and I was glad they were there for her to find.

Although the ache to be inside her was building, I fought it.  I had waited so long to be this close I didn’t want it to be over too soon.  But her body pressed insistently against mine and I could wait no longer.

I traced softly down her neck, over her breasts, to her abdomen.  Then my fingers wandered further down, lightly slipping inside until her hips rolled in response.  I laid my hand on the inside of her thigh, coaxing it away from the other, and eased myself on top of her.

She seemed delicate below me at first, but soon was surging with a building heat.  Her hand grasped down my ribs, over my hip, then under it and I felt the urgency of her sweltering fingers as they wrapped around me, directing me toward her desire.

As I entered and delved deeper and deeper inside her, I looked into her eyes.  Yes, everything about this was different.   Never before had I even glanced at a woman's eyes during sex.  I preferred them to remain anonymous, generic. 

But this was Alice and I wanted to see myself there.  I had lost myself so many times in that gaze; I sought to finally find myself inside it.

To find myself inside her eyes and inside her body, the way I had felt her inside my heart.
 
And in that moment, as our eyes met, I was suddenly aware that I loved her.  I had not allowed myself to think it before.  But now it washed over me in waves and I felt it so strongly that I had to fight the urge to say it out loud.  Hell, to scream it to the night, to the world … to her.

I loved her.  It was obvious.  It was powerful.  It was overwhelming. 

We eased into a rhythm that, at first, felt as natural as breathing, but soon became as insistent as the pull of the moon on the tides.  Every part of me came alive: mind, body, soul, heart. 

I was aware of my own panting, but ached to hear her breaths and tones, to gauge her pace and need.  So I buried my face in her neck, nestling her hair, and listened with an intensity I’d never attained before.  Her breaths became shorter, and she began a stream of soft, elevating hums. 

I longed to feel her reach her climax and grip me inside, so I raised the rhythm to a higher pitch.  She panted her approval. 

Bringing a woman to orgasm had always been either just a polite obligation in order to finish myself or a self indulgent demonstration of my ability to control someone else's desire.  Until now. 

Now, in an odd way, it felt like a gift I wanted her to unwrap.  Something of myself I would give her.  We would find pleasure and passion.  And we would find it together.

Stay with me, move with me, be together with me in every way.  Let me take you there, help you find it, and join you at last.

Her hands ran wildly over the full length of my back and ribs, and down to my hips, urging them to thrust deeper.  Then her arms rose and embraced me with an almost crushing strength.  Suddenly, she arched her back and stiffened slightly.  Her head lifted off the pillow, and she sighed a long, exhilarated tone of release.  

Her muscles inside gripped me with a force that took my breath away and spun me with the dizziness I had felt when we first kissed.  I wrapped myself around her and held her more tightly then ever, as if she could stop my spinning and bring me to the place she had found.  And then I joined her there.

I exhaled a raw sound of relief and joy.  When I caught my breath, I looked in her eyes, touched her cheek, and devoured her mouth. 

Her tongue hungrily sought mine.  Her hands held my face and pressed my lips against hers.  It was as I had imagined: we would take breath from each other as we kissed.  We needed each other like we needed air.

When the kiss finally ended, I buried my face in her neck again, exhausted.  She put her lips to my ear and whispered breathlessly, “Terry.  Oh, God.  Terry.”    My name had never sounded sweeter; no voice had ever reached me more deeply.  She was with me, completely. 

A smile spread over my face and I felt an incredible surge of happiness.  I knew I would never feel this way again.

Eventually, after the breathing and pulses returned to normal, I eased myself from her and rolled onto my back.  The candles were almost spent, so I angled toward them and blew them out   As if she didn't want the connection to be broken, she kept her hand on me while I maneuvered away from her. 

I stretched out on my back, and her body curled onto mine.  Just as the first time I had held her, her arm reached across my stomach, her head lay on my chest, her leg curled up over my knees.  Her warmth spread over me, like it had that night, and I was blanketed by her touch.  My arms enfolded her and kept her close.

As she drifted to sleep, I kissed the crown of her head and held her.  Even this was different, this moment unlike any other.  I had never held a woman afterward.  I always left the room immediately after an encounter with a stranger.

Even with Penny, I either rolled over into a deep sleep or got up to do some work or catch some television.  I never savored a woman afterward.  I never wanted to. 

But I lay there, subtly increasing the pressure of my grasp, listening to her breathe.  As she squirmed in her sleep, I imagined what she might be dreaming.  Her grip on me never lessened; my urge to hold her never waned.
 
It had always been my custom to stay awake the night before a rescue mission.  My senses were sharper, my head clearer if I did.  So I knew I wouldn't fall asleep.  I could lie there all night, sheltering her in my arms, watching the rise and fall of her ribs, feeling the warmth of her breath on my chest.

I wanted to focus on everything before it was gone.  I wanted to fill my mind with her they way she had filled my heart.  It was easy.  The flood of memories was clear and visceral: every conversation we'd had, every expression of her face, every moment of vulnerability and strength I had felt.  I reviewed them all.  

And the night ticked away, despite my need to delay the dawn.  It turned into a few hours remaining, the hours to minutes, and I became sorely aware of how little time I had left with her.

For the past several weeks I had looked forward to the mornings.  Daybreak meant I could head back to Alice.  But now, as it rose, I cursed the sun.  It meant I was destined away from her. 

Once the day began, I knew my focus on the mission would be absolute.  Alice would become a peripheral consideration.  And as the light became brighter, I felt the shift.  The reverie became a sharpened resolve; the smile of contented warmth hardened into a stern game face.

I released my hold on her, eased myself from the bed, took a shower and shaved.  I stared in the mirror, trying to find a remnant of the sense of happiness I had found in her arms.  But it was gone. 

It was time.

I woke her gently, kissing her more out of courtesy than need, and made coffee while she showered.  Her attempts to touch me were met with a distance I could not avoid.  Her eyes searched mine for an explanation, and I momentarily succumbed, embracing her with my arms, engulfing her mouth with a kiss, and finally releasing her with a reluctant heart. 

Then my game face returned and she understood.

I walked her through the spiel for Fellner, the leads and comebacks for her dialog with him, the timing with Kessler, the need for her to be convincing in the lie.  We role played it until she was comfortable. 

It went as planned and a quick meeting between Dino and Dover confirmed it.  I ordered a full kit inspection and gave the go ahead for the chopper in one hour.  Dino left to change into fatigues, giving his motivational shouts as he directed the men out the door.

So Alice and I were alone, momentarily. 

She looked slightly dazed.  “I've never seen you nervous before.”

I took a breath, remembering last night and how I nearly faltered at the start.

“Yes you have,” I whispered.

I knew my task ahead was for her benefit.  I knew I had promised it, planned it, and in a strange way reveled in it.  But I needed one last moment to be as we had been: just the two of us, locked in each other's gaze.  She was still my Alice.  Soon she would be his.

I swept the hair out of her eyes, held her face in my hands, and kissed her, over and over.  The kisses were deep and held a sense of longing and gratitude, as if to say I would never forget last night, I would never forget these weeks, I would never forget what she had done for me. One last look at her, and I pulled myself back into military mode and boarded the chopper.

The operation did not go as planned.  Although the camp was drained of the majority of soldiers thanks to our diversion, we missed one in the head count.  He surprised us and we were forced to go loud. 

Peter was dazed and skeptical when I approached him, but stronger in spirit and anger than most we had rescued at this point in captivity.  I felt an immediate respect for him.  Would that make it easier for me to release her into his care?  I shook that thought from my mind and focused on getting him on the chopper. 

Calitri was already in tow when one of the crew was injured and Dino radioed he was going back for him.  I felt confident we could still make a clean extraction, and was, perhaps, too relaxed when Peter shouted, “Grenade!”

I twisted down to the ground, but angled myself the wrong direction and the blast shot debris into my eyes.  I was instantly blinded.  A sense of fear spread through me – I couldn't see Peter.  I couldn't see the captor who had thrown the grenade.  I couldn't get my bearings.  Thank God I had given a gun to Peter.  He took out the assailant and led me, staggering and reeling, to the chopper.  My shouts for eye wash were answered and I sprayed the fragments from my eyes, restoring my sight and composure.

Everyone was on board and the bird began her ascent.  When I looked at Peter I knew I had accomplished the mission.  I knew I had kept my promise to Alice and to myself.  But I also knew she was shifting from my client to his wife.  Not in my mind, of course, but in reality.

When he asked how she was, I heard myself say, “She misses you.  She’s waiting for you where we land.”  It was true and I resented it.  How many hours ago had she waited for me?  And now she waited for him.  I looked away, hoping he couldn’t read the sense of emptiness that came over me. 

We landed and I watched her wrap herself around him, a vision even more painful than it had been in my dream.  I looked away, pulled my gear from the chopper and stood there, trying not to feel their connection.

And then she walked toward me.  Oh God.  To say goodbye.  To make it official. 

At least it was one more time I could look at her, feel her near me, gaze into those eyes.

I babbled about Peter and his passport and the need to be prudent with time and behavior.  She kept interrupting me, but I rattled on, knowing if I slipped out of military mode, I would crumble completely.

All the while I just wanted to tell her - to tell her all that she had done for me.  How she helped me take the first few steps in my journey out of the past, how she set me free from my self imposed captivity, how she gave me a glimpse of a possible life, of a better man, how she gave me hope. 

And I wanted to ask her – the one question that still burned inside me.  Had she felt anything for me?  She had never said, and although I couldn't keep myself from hoping it, I had never believed it. 

But at the end of my ramblings, she spoke in the voice I had come to ache for. 

“Just tell me you know how much you mean to me.”

It stopped me cold, then filled me with warmth.  That sudden surge of happiness infused my smile and all I could say was, “Then we're even.”

“No, we'll never be even,” her eyes filled with tears.  “I've given you nothing.”

She'd given me everything and didn't know it.  But there was no time to explain.  And suddenly it was too hard to see myself in those eyes, so I looked away.

“Believe me, we're even,” I choked.

“You deserve more than this,” she said.

I swallowed hard and faced her.  “You got a plane to catch.  See you around, Mrs. Bowman.”

I was pushing her away for my own survival.  But I wanted to touch her, one last moment.  I extended my hand, she reached for it, and we connected for the last time.

I wanted to say something final, something important, something profound, but there were no words.

Most of all I wanted to tell her I had realized that I loved her.  I finally felt it, knew it, overflowed with it, and couldn't say it.  And what if I never felt it again?  What if I never had the opportunity again to say it out loud and mean it? 

I hoped she could read my eyes.  Maybe she saw it.  Maybe she knew.

I did my best to hold myself together as I released her.  Please God.  Don’t let me break down.  Don’t let tears blur my eyes – I want to see her clearly, just a little longer. 

She walked away, taking with her my temporary reprieve from loneliness.

Her car drove away from me and I watched the full length of its path down the mountain.  As the distance between us grew greater, the realization of losing her overtook me.  I would never see her again.  Never hear her voice again.  Never hold her again.  Never.  

And then I understood.  This is why they call it a broken heart: it felt like everything deep inside of me was collapsing.  It took my breath away and I consciously inhaled to revive myself.   

The pain was fierce and almost undid me.  But that spark of hope she had left me with gave me the strength to fight my way back up.  I clung to that glimpse of a possible life, of a better man.  The promise of hope.

And there it was: the truth of allowing emotion.  Pain wasn’t always the end of it.  It could be followed by hope.  My eyes widened with the rush of relief.

And I realized that even though she was gone, she had left me with so much. 

I shook my head in amazement.  She thought she had given me nothing.  But she was wrong.

She had given me the ability to feel again, to allow myself to get close to someone, knowing fully that it would be worth every minute even if I had to give it up and lose it all.  She had given me a new understanding of the value of talking and the experience of true tenderness.

But above all, she had given me the chance to feel actual love. 

All of these things were intangibles.  And yet, in my pocket, I kept my one memento, the one physical thing I could still touch to bring back our connection. 

The yarn – the yarn that had held us together while I slept after my nightmare.  The single piece of yarn she had wrapped around my wrist and hers to tie us together, to keep us close, to feel any movement, to sense when I needed her.  It had connected us then and always would. 

I had carried it with me ever since that morning.