VANGUARD(82)

Why must we always do this to one another?

He had thought of little else as he had wandered around the airport for the last few hours. How could they be together, love one another, when impulse and pride so dominated? They were, as Carter had frequently pointed out to him over the years, utterly unsuited for one another. Fire and ice.

Perhaps it stops when we finally put our love first.

Michael boarded, climbing the steps to the upper deck of the 747. The first class cabin attendants welcomed him with warm smiles. He saw her right away, leaning against the window beside her seat, lost in thought. Her attendant asked her a question, but she did not respond. The woman asked again, and Sophie looked up. And saw him. She had been crying.

It stops here. Now. He would cause her no more tears.

“Mana mila.” He waved away the champagne the attendant pressed on him as he sat down beside her.

She leaned over to wrap her arms around him. “I’m so sorry. Can you forgive me?”

Michael shook his head. “The mistakes have been mine. I have nothing to forgive you for beyond a minor slip of your memory.” He buried his face in her bright hair and inhaled her scent. “It is your forgiveness I require.”

Sophie sighed again his neck, her voice filled with conflict. “I have lived my whole life without you, without anyone really. I am used to planning and making decisions on my own. So much so that now, when you are finally with me, I find it easier to exclude you.” Her cheek rested against his neck, and he could feel her tears against his skin. “I’ve never been good at working with you – working with anyone, really, except Will. I haven’t been any better in the last few weeks. How will we make this work when we’re home?”

“We have not had a conventional relationship, love. Neither of us is conventional.” Michael pulled back and traced her lower lip with his thumb. “We have been friends. We have been enemies.” Sophie smiled. “We have saved one another’s lives. And we are the most passionate of lovers.” She shivered in his arms. “Now it is time for us to be equals. This will take practice on both our parts.” He kissed her, relishing the feel of her lips. He’d meant it to be chaste, but was unable to prevent it from becoming more. Eventually, polite throat clearing beside them brought him back to reality.

“Dr. Trent? Ms. Swenda?” The attendant stood nearby, her eyes politely averted. “I apologize for interrupting. We’ll soon be taking off. Could I ask you to put on your seatbelts please?”

They broke apart, blushing. Michael buckled his seatbelt, forced himself to watch the safety video, and fantasized about sex at thirty-six thousand feet. As the jet took off in the winter twilight, he turned back to Sophie.

Sound asleep.

He gazed at her. Her face was drawn from her recent illness, stress and months of overwork and worry. He ran a fingertip over the dark circles under her eyes. She had risked everything for him. Now they were going back to New York, to safety. To start their life together.

Michael was going home with the woman he loved.





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February 25, 2014





When Michael finally cleared US Customs and Border Protection shortly after midnight, Sophie waited for him on the other side of the doors, typing furiously on her iPhone, back propped against their luggage.

“You were only in the interview room for twenty minutes,” she said as he approached. “You’d think that someone reentering the country after an unexplained seven-month absence in a warzone would be subject to greater scrutiny.”

“I believe my father may have taken steps to smooth my return. I received a stern warning and a great deal of unsolicited advice on the perils of entering an active conflict zone.” He held out his hand and pulled her to her feet.

She hugged him tightly. “Welcome home, Mikael.”

“Thanks to you. And my father, it would seem. I think I will not be traveling again soon. My new friends in the Department of Homeland Security have indicated they would prefer if I stayed home for the next few months.”

They walked through the doors together, and Sophie spotted the Nariovsky-Trents immediately. His parents’ eyes bounced between them until they realized the stranger standing beside Sophie was indeed their son. He waved, and Signe burst into tears.

“Go.” She took the cart and gave him a little push.

Michael ran the rest of the way to his parents, picking up his mother to give her a ferocious hug. He kissed her, then embraced his father. Maxwell hugged his son tightly, tears in his eyes. Signe started to fuss about how skinny Michael was. But she stopped when Sophie approached with the luggage cart.