Generations Beyond

It took one phone call and an entire week but Jonathan’s belongings arrived at their new home. Christina felt odd staying in one place any longer than a day or two, but she started to get the hang of the routine.

They purchased food and cameras, and had a safe delivered and installed in the basement. Jonathan called one of his contacts to secure weapons. All artillery was scheduled for delivery within the next few days.

Christina tasked herself with taking care of the contacts for the base renovations. She sent the paperwork to Washington, and hand delivered it to the Colonel herself. She scheduled meetings with individual contractors to review the renovations. Their estimated completion data, August fifteenth, approached steadily.

On a warm Saturday the day before Easter, Christina and Jonathan had other things on their minds. Christina took the car for an errand and returned an hour later. She pulled into the garage, turned off the car, and took her bags with her into the house. “Honey, I’m home,” she called and kicked the door closed.

He stood in the living room with his coat rack. As Christina drew near she saw where Jonathan stood in front of his hanging dress uniform, positioning his ribbons and polishing the affixed metal. “Get what you needed?” he turned to her, one ribbon in hand to place.

“I believe so, yes.” She walked into the living room to stand near him. “Wow. Impressive, Jonathan,” she said, eyes moving to the decorated dress blues. When Christina wasn’t at the base or speaking with military personnel, she opted for the cloth gloves instead of leather. Days passed the cloth gloves became the norm at home. The thinner material afforded her the most feeling. “I bet you’re fine as hell in them, too,” she commented after a moment of appreciation.

“I look good no matter what,” he smirked, pinning the last ribbon in place. “Haven’t worn the thing in ages. Haven’t had occasion for it.”

“You sure it will still fit?” she teased him. “You know that married men gain weight.” She walked to the couch, laid her garment bag over the edge and unzipped it.

Jonathan patted his lack of gut, “Still combat fit, ma’am!” He turned to watch her and the mystery bag. “So, what’d ya get?”

“Well,” she said, pulling out the dress with her left hand and holding it up to her body with it still on the hanger. “Something appropriate if you still want me to go with you tonight. I didn’t think my suits would cut it.” She held in front of her a floor length, blue lace dress with a beige shift underneath. The dress’ long sleeves ended in decorative crocheted cuffs and the neckline dipped without being uncouth. In her right hand Christina held a pair of flesh tone, lambskin gloves. “Too much?” she asked, wrinkling her nose.

He nodded in appreciation. “I like the color for you,” he walked toward her. “Want to hang it up with the blues, or put it in your closet?”

“Let’s hang them together.” She hung the dress behind his dress coat. “Do you like it?”

He turned and sat on the couch, admiring the dress and his uniform side by side for a few moments before propping his feet up on the table. “Looks good. Imagine you can play Army wife long?”

“For a few hours?” she asked. “Yeah, I can force myself to remain respectable.” She looked at him, “Can you be charming in public?”

“We’ll find out,” he mused.

“So, I take it this Mass tonight for Easter is a big deal?” she asked him. She remembered from his file he was Catholic. Christina wasn’t. But, this was important to him, obvious by how he took care with his blues.

He looked toward the uniform hanging across the rooms. “Yeah. I haven’t, outside of combat deployment, missed Easter, Christmas Mass, or Ash Wednesday.” He finished his water and filled the glass. “I’m not a good Catholic, but I have my version. Those three are my chance to reconnect with the Church.”

“Okay, you do the talking and I’ll be the arm charm,” she said.

“You don’t have to go,” he looked at her before hopping up on his own counter top perch. “It would be nice to go with someone, but you don’t have to. I get that it’s not your thing.”

The smile on her lips dropped a touch, “You don’t want me to go?”

“I don’t want you to feel you have to go because I asked you to.” He frowned. “I don’t want to force you into doing something you object to, don’t believe in, or whatever.”

She dismissed it with a wave of her hand. “Don’t worry about it, I don’t mind. Trust me. You’re my partner.”

Dinner didn’t take long to prepare. Twenty minutes and they were sitting on the patio. “Do you want to stay out here while it cooks or go inside? I could use the time to go over some of the invoices and requisition reports,” she moved closer to him and looked at the grill.

“Go get ’em,” he said, dragging the small table and two chairs closer to the grill. “It’s not too cold out for you, is it?” When the opportunity presented itself, he would touch her for a fleeting moment here and there.

“What’s the count up to?” she asked before taking a seat.

“One-forty,” he said like it was nothing. “It isn’t too bad when you’re expecting it,” he laughed.

“Yeah, you handle it like its second nature.”

He nodded. “It’s getting easier and fades faster.”

“You sure?” Christina sounded doubtful. “How much faster?” she gave Jonathan her full attention.

“It’s cut in half,” he looked at her. “Give or take. It varies.”

“Any consistency when it varies?” she asked as she leaned forward, elbow on the table.

“Seems to follow some metabolic patterns,” he commented, reaching out to drag the tip of one finger up her arm from elbow to wrist; two seconds. “Anything less than three or four seconds of contact hardly registers.”

“It’s skin oil, what about liquid absorption?” she asked, intrigued.

“Well,” his eyes dilated a touch. “We haven’t tested it yet. But based on skin contact I would expect it to have a diminished effect. Perhaps not as significant, though.”

“When you’re ready, we should test and find out if it’s fading,” she said, her eyes switching from his left to right eyes.

He brushed fingers against her arm. Jonathan pondered as his touch lingered eight seconds before he withdrew. “What were you thinking? I lick your hand?” He chuckled.

She laughed as she watched his fingers play across her skin. “No, I give you a proper kiss, but not until the effects wouldn’t be stacking. I won’t risk you overdosing on me, Jonathan.”

His pupils dilated from the first brush, but they grew wider. “A kiss?” he smiled before glancing over her shoulder for a time check. “Might be nice.” He looked to her and drew in a slow breath of cool air.

“It’ll wait.”

His eyes flooded with the black pools of his irises. Jonathan stood to check the chicken. “Rain check,” he half-laughed as he examined the food. “Looks like we’re ready here.” He looked over his shoulder. He grabbed their plates and placed half of the chicken and two slices of cabbage upon them.

“Anytime, sweetie,” she answered with bit of a smile. “Count?” she asked.

“One eighty,” he said and took his seat before he cut off cabbage and chicken for a mixed bite “Should record this.”

“Use your phone,” she suggested. She took one bite to his two. She cut off a piece of her cabbage and chewed on it as she surveyed him.

He nodded. “One option.” He swallowed another bite. Without lifting his head or looking at her, Jonathan asked, “Why don’t you eat?”

“What?” Christina asked as she finished her bite of cabbage. “I do,” she added. She motioned down to the plate of food with her fork.

“Christina.” Jonathan stated her name and somehow gave it the depth of concern, disappointment, frustration, and pure will. He raise his eyes to hers. “Don’t bullshit me.”

Christina put the fork and knife on her plate and looked away. “What do you want to know this time?”

He stood, but all she heard was the sound of bare feet before he knelt to her eye level. “I want to know why you don’t eat, but you work out as hard as me. I know what it takes to maintain the level of activity and you’re not doing it.” Jonathan pulled her face to him so their eyes met, dropping his hand away once he had her gaze. “Why?”

Christina looked into his eyes and held his stare. “It’s not your cooking,” she said. “Everything, no matter what I eat, tastes like dirt. I want to get rid of it as soon as I put it in my mouth, but I know I shouldn’t. I know I can’t. I keep working out because I have to. If I don’t and I get a call and I’m not ready, I’ll fail.”

He shook his head, not breaking eye contact. “If you don’t eat, you won’t be in a condition to do anything.” Jonathan inched closer. “Does anything taste good? We can stock up or figure something out.”

She shook her head. “Nothing,” she said. “I’m trying. I know you’re a good cook. I’ve watched you, I see how much you enjoy it. I’m sorry.”

He rocked and rested on his heel. “I don’t give a damn about my cooking. What I care about is you… getting what you need.” He sat down with crossed legs. “You need food, or you’ll die.” He frowned, swallowed, “unless it’s your end game?”

“No, not until he does first,” she looking at him. “Get off the ground, Jonathan. You need to finish eating so we can get ready for tonight. Think of it as our first night out to socialize as a couple.”

“I’m done. I’ll clean up if you want to get ready.” He watched her.

“Well, I’m not,” she turned to her plate. “I’ll help you in a minute.” She picked up her fork and knife, cut off another piece of her chicken, and put the bite in her mouth. Christina kept her eyes on her plate while she finished eating, but felt Jonathan’s eyes staring through her. She chewed and swallowed. The process repeated a few times as she choked down a couple bites of each the chicken and cabbage. Five minutes after she started, she put the silverware down and looked up at him.

“It’s a start,” he commented as he picked up both plates and headed into the house.

She walked in carrying the foil off the grill pinched in the tongs in one hand, their waters in her other, with her bag on her shoulder. “I don’t want you to be upset with me,” she opened the trash and threw the foil away, put the tongs in the sink, and set the water glasses on the counter. “I try.”

“I’m not upset with you, Christina.” He said, rinsing off the plates. “I’m upset, but not with you. I don’t believe you’re lying.” He set the rinsed plates aside and moved to the silverware and tongs.

“I know we’ve both had a lot going on and the stress is going to get worse. You haven’t seen how bad it can get yet, and I’m trying to keep it from you.”

“Don’t,” he said, taking a step toward her. “Don’t keep it from me. I don’t need your protection.” Jonathan laid his hands on her upper arms, over the cloth, and gave her a squeeze, “Don’t hide from me. We’re partners, kid. We’re in this together now, whether you like it or not.”

“I like being in this with you. These last few weeks have been incredible. It’s… I don’t know how else to explain it. Why put you through something horrible if I can prevent it?’” she asked him, looking into his eyes. “Wouldn’t you do the same?”

“No,” he said. “Not if it was important. You’re a big girl and if you can’t handle something, I can help you.” He let her shoulders go. “Am I going to put you though meaningless shit?” he shrugged, and loaded in the rinsed dinnerware. “No. But if I feel like you need to be in the loop, you better believe I’m going to pull you in.”

She sighed. “All right, no shelter. You can be in on the next call. Remember, he’s in the dark and it has to stay that way.”

“No problem.” He turned to her. “I can deal with being your dirty little secret,” he smirked, “I don’t want to be kept in the dark.”

“I don’t keep you in the dark,” she said.

“I’m not talking about the Penn, shit,” he frowned. “I’m talking about you. Put the whole caring about you aside, if there is something that can compromise your operational efficiency, like self-inflicted injury or limiting nutritional intake, it places both me and the mission at risk.” He crossed his arms and looked at her for a moment. “I’m not saying that if I know it will fix or change anything, but with knowledge I can compensate.” He took a few steps past her. He stopped and turned, leaned in to speak against her ear, “and then, add the fact that I care about you, Christina… look at it from my perspective.” He walked over to the patio door and closed it.

“That was dirty,” she looked at him. “I’ve made promises to you, promises I’ve kept, and for you to bring things up as though I haven’t… it’s wrong.” She shook her head. “You act like you don’t judge. You hold that little bit to throw it at me. I know I’m damaged. I’m trying to claw, scratch, and dig my way out so everyone I care about is safe, including you. I’m sorry I’m not getting out of my hole fast enough and it’s endangering the mission.”

He looked at her for a few moments. “Is that what you think?” he took the steps needed to close the gap between them. Without warning, he cupped her face and pinned her against the counter. “You think I judge you.” He held on, six, seven, eight… “Do you think that?”… twelve, thirteen, fourteen, fifteen, “or did I hit a nerve and you’re reacting?” … eighteen, nineteen. He dropped his hands away at twenty seconds and took a step. His eyes going from normal, to black voids. “Ask me what I think and if any of it is true.”

Christina’s eyes widened in sudden fear and waited for his body to crumple onto the floor. “You asshole. Did you use me? Did you?” she asked him, her tone rising.

“I need you to know I’m not holding anything back,” he leaned against the fridge and swallowed hard. “You need to know beyond the shadow of a doubt.”

“You could have asked me. You could have asked and I would have done it. But instead, you took it from me, by force.” She gave him a look of disgust. “What do you want from me? What do you want me to ask you so bad that you would do this?”

“Ask me if I judge you in any way, ask me if I would ever throw anything in your face. And I want you to understand everything I said, I said because I care and I want to help however I can. I want you to trust me to do what is in our best interests no matter what the cost.”

“Fine,” she said, frowning. “Do you judge me in any way? Would you ever throw anything I tell you in my face?” Christina crossed her arms over her chest and took a step toward him. “Did you think you had to do this to you, to me, for me to believe you? Do you believe I hold you in such low regard I can’t trust a word out of your mouth if you aren’t drugged by me? Is this your opinion of me?”

“No, I don’t judge you, and I won’t use anything you say against you in any way.” He drew a deep breath. “I do not think I had to touch you… to use you… for you to believe me, but I wanted no room for any possible doubt.” He swallowed. “I think you would have taken me at my word, but you wouldn’t have been sure. I think there would have been a small corner of your mind that expected the worst.”

Christina shook her head in exaggerated movements. “How much longer?” she looked at her feet.

“I don’t know. I’m sorry, Christina. I’m so sorry. I didn’t think about the parallels between me and Penn. I wouldn’t have done this if I had thought it through.”

She grabbed one of the bottles of water off the counter and handed it to him. “Drink water, it will help. You’re nowhere near as bad as Penn,” she said.

He shook his head at the water and made no movement to take it from her. “I’ll stay here. It’ll pass.”

“Take. The. Water.” She insisted.

“No,” he said and stood straight. “I deserve this… feeling,” he staggered toward his uniform.

“Get over the whole penance shit. Please.”

He sighed and turned. “You’re right. I did a horrible thing and I should pay the price for it,” he said, but his voice wavered between anger and sorrow. “Please don’t be mad at me.”

“I’m not mad at you anymore, I don’t want to see you go through this and I don’t want to see you do this to yourself.”

“The pain of knowing someone you care for is in pain, the frustration of knowing there’s nothing you can do to stop it, and the anger at yourself for not being strong enough to help?” More confession than question, but it came out anyway.

“Please stop, I’m trying. I can’t do anything other than try, Jonathan.”

He hung his head, “I didn’t mean to suggest you could do any more than that,” he sighed, “it’s me and my guilt, not you.” He stood. “Give me a half hour and I’ll be ready.”

“I need longer,” she watched him with her brow furled. “I’m doing this for you, tell me how much effort you want me to put into this.”

“Make yourself feel as beautiful as you are,” he smiled, his voice finding some of its usual confidence as his mind cleared bit by bit. He walked to her. “I’ll take the water, if you still want to give it to me.”

“I think you have a much higher opinion of my physical standards than I do, but I’ll do my best,” she said with a smile as she held out the water.

He accepted the water and drained it dry. “That’s all I could ever ask from you.” He returned her smile.

The one constant Jonathan counted on when attending Mass at a new Church was the way everyone watched him. Human nature or a Church thing; regardless, it happened. When you attended Mass wearing a military dress uniform as adorned as his, people watched. The service proper was identical to all others he had attended over the years. He helped Christina with knowing when to kneel and when to stand, when to sit and when to stand, when to stand and when to kneel, and when to do it all over. For him, the actions performed and the words said were rote memory.

For anyone not as spiritual a man as Jonathan, Mass was another event in the long line of rituals. For him, every moment had meaning. Every word or action; every breath held his devoted attention. He looked at Christina during Mass, but he made sure to not make her feel isolated or alone as best he could.

The real event started after Mass. People approached Jonathan in a near-constant stream spread across hours of thanks for his service. Questions about where he had served, what his job had been, how he had reconciled his actions as a soldier with his obligations as a man of the Church; all subjects he had heard before, but he wouldn’t tire of discussing. For Jonathan, explaining how he could kill and still serve God was as much a test of his faith as it was an opportunity to lift others with his devotion and commitment to The Word. Every chance he got, he tried to include Christina, but felt like he failed rather than succeeded.

He pondered the subject as he drove to their house at 0300. “You didn’t feel too left out?” he asked, eyes forward on the road. “Did you?”

Christina trained her gaze out the car window, watching the lights of the city go by as he spoke to her. She turned her face to look at him. “Not at all,” she said with a smile. “Tonight wasn’t about me, it was about you. How long has it been since you’ve gone to a Mass like this? How long since you’ve got to go with someone else?”

“Christmas,” he answered, “but I’ve brought no one with me in a decade.” He made the turn off the highway and into their little residential area. “Thanks for coming, Christina,” he said with a wisp of a smile.

“You’re welcome, Jonathan. I enjoyed myself.” She gave him a soft smile. She looked forward in time to see him pulling into their driveway.

He laughed. “I think you’re full of shit.” He shot a look at her as he parked in the garage, “But thanks for saying it anyway.” He killed the engine and retrieved his hat and uniform jacket from the seat where he had draped it. He put on the jacket and tucked the hat under his elbow before he circled around the car to open Christina’ door.

“No, I did.” She stepped out of the car. “Believe it or not, I enjoy watching people, and I don’t like being the center of attention. So, with everyone focused on you, I got to watch you and watch them. I didn’t have to worry about much.” She slipped her hand into the bend of his elbow.

They had been gone four hours. “A nice escape. Time to change out of the dress up clothes.” He eased her away with the twirl ballroom dancers use, admiring her in the dress. “Shame, though. You look good in that dress.”

She twirled and laughed. Christina stopped with a hand on his upper chest. “Thank you, Captain Cross,” she looked into his eyes, “and there is one more item for tonight. Something, I said I would give you earlier.” In her new black heels she was a solid three inches taller than normal. She still needed to go up on her toes to press her lips to his. She closed her eyes and counted in her head. This kiss differed from any other they had shared; Christina had no lip balm on her lips and any lipstick she had put on earlier was gone. Parting her lips for him she allowed the tip of her tongue to trace along the seal of his lips.

Jonathan didn’t expect a kiss. His arm slid around her waist and pulled her closer, tilted his head left, and let his tongue meet hers as his lips parted.

She couldn’t help the soft moan that vibrated across her lips when she felt his tongue touch hers. Her arms wrapped around him, under his arms as she moved in closer. She waited until she counted to twelve in her head before she pulled her lips away from him and opened her eyes.

He chased as she pulled away. Jonathan still held her against him, though, opening eyes he didn’t remember closing, “Was it worth it?”

“I think so.” She smiled at him. “You tell me in three second?” She watched him, watched his eyes. One arm untangled from him as a hand moved up to cup his face with her gloved hand, thumb moving over his cheek.

It took five seconds before his eyes showed what she waited for. “It’s stronger,” he commented, “and it was worth it.”

“It will be intense.” Her thumb moved to caress his bottom lip. Her eyes followed the trail her thumb left and watched how his lip moved under the soft leather clad digit. Without thinking she pulled her own bottom lip between her teeth as she looked into his eyes.

“It is,” he nodded, eyes dipping to her lips as he leaned in to kiss her. Instead he let his lips hover over hers for a few seconds, looking into her eyes as best he could, before pulling away. “Later?”

Her breath caught in her throat when he moved in close. Fear? Anticipation? She smiled at him as he moved away and she let her hand drop from his face. “I think we need to slip into something for bed, unzip me?” she asked as she turned and moved her hair to expose the long zipper which ran the full length of the dress.

He laid one hand on her hip and lifted the other to pull the zipper. As her back appeared, he leaned in close and blew against her skin along the same path of the zipper. “Time to get comfortable,” he said over her shoulder as he moved around her and headed toward his bedroom.

She was left to watch him go. He was a sight to behold in his uniform. She followed him down the hallway. Christina reached behind her and unhooked her bra as she walked into her room. Without closing the door, she slipped out of her dress.

His door was open as he changed from his dress blues into a pair of boxer-briefs and hung his uniform with care in the closet. Every few seconds, he glanced at her across the hall. He took the handful of steps necessary and leaned against her doorframe. “You take too long,” he said as he stood there.

Christina stood there in nothing but her slip, a garter belt and a pair of thigh-high stockings. “Some things are worth the wait.” She turned to face him in the doorway.

“Some things are worth the wait,” he quipped with arms crossed over his chest. His eyes roamed. “You’re so fucking sexy, you know that?”

“When you tell me.” She took two steps toward him. She looked into his eyes to see if he had recovered from the kiss. “If you touch me at the same time I kiss you, you know what you’re in for, right?” She wanted to make sure he knew the risks.

He took a few steps into her room and nodded, “I am well aware of the risks involved.” Jonathan walked to her and stopped a foot away. “I wanted to come in and see you close instead of from over there.” He gestured toward his room.

“I like it when you come and see me,” she said and walked to the bed to sit.

He meandered over to her bed before turning and falling beside her with arms spread across the entire width of the bed.

Her hand followed him, moving, and fingers curled so her nails moved under his hair and along his scalp to pull along the skin.

His eyes fluttered closed. A soft moan escaped his lips as she kept at it with her nails lightly against his scalp.

He basked in the raw pleasure of her touch. He let his head dip to hide his face. “So, full disclosure,” he turned to face her with his head, “that’s kind of one of my turn ons.”

“Oh,” she looked at her hand and to him with a big smile. “I wish I had known sooner. You should tell me these things.”

He smirked slightly, “Now you know,” he said, “and it’s the light touch, not just on my head.”

“Well,” she propped herself up on her elbows and looked into his eyes, “I guess we better start lightly.”