"Hey Thomas!" said April, brightly, putting down her magazine.
I was naked but at that moment, I didn't give a damn.
"Where's Megan?" I demanded.
"And a good morning to you too! Umm, Thomas, while I'm sure you've made Megan very happy with that," she said, pointing at my dick, "I'd appreciate it if you put on some pants. There are things I have to tell you."
I wasn't happy, but I went and put on some pants and a t-shirt and rejoined April in the sitting room.
"There. All better. Not so cold either," she grinned. I supposed she was making some joke about dicks shrinking in the cold, but I really wasn't that interested in humor right then.
"Where is she?" I demanded, louder this time.
"OK, calm down. I know you grew close to her, but please, understand, she has a job to do, just like I have. Don't get too close to the fire Thomas. It's fine to warm your hands by it, but if you stick them in, you'll get burnt."
She paused to look at me. I could see genuine concern in her face, but I also really considered it to be None. Of. Her. Business. Whatever Megan was to me, it was to
me
, not her.
"Megan had to return to Boston. Well, she
chose
to return to Boston, actually. No one forced her. There's unfinished business there, and she's required to end it. You should be happy, because it's all coming to a head now. One way or another, things will be resolved, and you can go home."
"How?" I said, flatly.
April looked away. "I don't really know how much Megan told. We didn't get that long to chat. But know I can't tell you much, and more to the point, I don't know that much anyway. All I know is that she saw some people while she was working, and the FBI needs her to identify them."
"She could have done that over Skype," I said, hotly.
April shrugged. "I don't know. I don't make a habit of telling the feds their business. They needed her, and in person. So she went. She said that if there was any chance of this all being sorted it out, the bad guys getting locked away, she was going to take it. If only for you."
I nodded. It sounded like something Megan would do. I was still stiff and not happy - I get up after sleeping and find that the only woman who had ever been nice to me; the one who had stolen my heart; the one woman I'd ever love - had disappeared overnight. April could see it.
"Look, lets make the best of this, Thomas? I owe you as much as she does. I can be good company too. She just needs to get this done, OK?" she said, softening her tone.
"Yeah, I know, it's just..." I was frustrated and so I turned to the coffee maker in the room. At least April had already started it; there was fresh coffee in it. I tried a cup and strangely, it was terrific.
April noticed and smiled, "I bring my own coffee. It's Jamaican Blue Mountain. Although anything is better than the crap they put in hotel rooms."
"So, planning on being here a while then?" I said, probing.
April laughed - she did have a pretty smile when it was genuine. "Good one, Thomas. I don't know. Best to be prepared you know? Like a good girl scout."
I considered that, and said, "I'm having trouble imaging you as a girl scout."
"Well, you go in there, take a shower, imagine me as a girl scout, and then get dressed, and we'll be on our way, OK? We need to move."
I laughed. I would be indeed imagining someone as a girl scout while in the shower, but it wouldn't be April.
When I was done in the shower, I was getting dressed, and pulling together what little I had to take with me, and I could hear April on the phone in the other room.
She was walking, and I could only get snatches of her side of the phone call.
"...smitten, obviously...Stockholm syndrome...classic transference...Are you sure about this, Megan? I mean seriously...he's a job...Yeah, I know. Yeah, him writing you music is very romantic, but still...They are doing what? Yeah... Yes, I agree...Oh ok, I won't touch. I won't be playing with your toys. No...don't worry."
Even though I only heard bits of it from one end, the jist was pretty obvious.
I made a production of opening the door and coming through, and April turned and saw me, smiled at me and pantomimed being on the phone. I nodded and did a final check of the room.
We hung out for three days, lazily making our way south east, towards Salt Lake City, of all places. Each night was another out of the way bed and breakfast - always with two rooms. April was way more prim and proper than Megan was.
And she was fine company. She was no Megan, but then no one was Megan except Megan. April kept her distance -physically and emotionally - way more than Megan did, and just didn't have the same gregarious sense of humor that Megan did. April walked into a room and sized it up, looking at the people and where they were standing, and the ways out and all the rest of it. She positioned herself in the room where she could see everyone and had her back against a wall.
Megan walked into a room and sized everyone up too, but to see who the fun ones were, and navigated herself towards them.
April was a secret agent and Megan was a stand up comedian. But both had wariness, a way of speaking by asking questions. But with Megan, you knew when she was not being serious. With April you were never quite sure. You could see how they made a good team. They had very complimentary attributes, that overlapped to a large extent but each was stronger at certain things than the other.
Still, April was a beautiful woman, and did I bask in being her date when we went to eat? You bet I did. I just wished it was Megan instead.
On the third morning, when we were in a small town just south of Boise, I got up early, and played the violin, looking to recreate music I played the night before Megan left. Jace had actually reached out and sent me a copy of the video he'd taken on his phone, which I was eternally grateful for, because it gave me something to work with, but I just couldn't generate the same passion. I could play the notes, but it just didn't sound the same.
And I was seriously starting to worry about what was going to happen at the end of all this. Megan had a job to do, and it was very important to her. And given what the job entailed, there was little chance of an ongoing relationship with her. Plus, I was a job - April had spelled that out, and she was quite correct. I wouldn't have been able to function knowing what she would be likely doing when she went off to work, so that was just not going to happen. The war between emotion and intellect was being waged again. I knew what I knew, but I felt what I felt.
So here I was, desperately in love with her. The first and only woman ever. How was I supposed to move on from this? She'd been gone three days and I missed her desperately. We'd spoken once on the phone, when she called to reassure me that she'd gotten back to Boston OK, and she was now working closely with the FBI. She didn't have long to talk, but it was just great to just hear her voice.
If I was this messed up when she'd been gone three days, and I KNEW I'd see her again soon, how was I going to react when this was all cleared up? When she and April and that Dermot guy rode off into the sunset? I mean, don't get me wrong, I was eternally grateful. She'd helped me deal with the nightmares of what I'd done to keep her and April alive, she'd helped me face and deal with the accident - teaching me the rejuvenating power of forgiveness, and she'd given me sexual experiences the like of which I dreamed could exist. She'd helped me see a little of America; introduced me to some interesting people; helped me to stretch my boundaries; I knew I would never be the same again. And that's awesome. More than awesome. But along the way I'd gone and done something really stupid and fallen in love with this woman. There. I'd said it. Oh, fuck.
The door to the patio of our small room opened and April came out. She was solemn, and held a cup of coffee in her hand. She reminded me of how this started, with Megan, in San Diego.
"Thomas, we need to talk. About several things," she said, seriously. "The first priority should be this huge emotional feeling you have about about Megan."
I just looked her, my bow and violin in hand. Was she telepathic or what? Was I that transparent.
She smirked and proved she
was
telepathic when she said, "Yes, it's that obvious. You think you are in love with her, don't you?"
I put down the bow and violin and sat down. "I..."
"Yeah, I know. She's an easy girl to love. But, she told me that you have an idea of what she - what we - do for a living. And...how we do it. You've got to understand, there's no future in that relationship? I mean, I really don't want to be the wicked witch here, but I think someone needs to be the voice of reason."
I stared at the violin in my hand, and then looked up at her, a tear on my cheek.
She looked at me, winced and sighed. "Oh, you've got it bad, haven't you?'
"I'm so sorry, Thomas. But someone has to point this out. Whatever she feels for you, relationships with field agents
never
work out. Trust me, been there, done that." She muttered the latter bitterly, more to herself than to me.
"When we finally get back to Boston, I'm going to have a word with Dermot. We've screwed with you enough, and need to find a way to put this genie back in the bottle. It's no good doing other stuff for you if all we leave you with is a broken heart."
I hadn't said more than one word yet, but I knew she was right. Intellect was going to win. Dammit. I was rooting so hard for emotion.
She sighed again. "Which makes the next news even harder to tell you."
My head snapped. "What?" I demanded.
April rolled her lips over her teeth, trying to decide how to break it to me.
"Megan has been...taken. We still aren't sure how. She was with a couple of FBI agents and they were doing some tailing and identification, and, well, they lost her. We have not seen her two days. We didn't say anything because we just didn't know anything. But this morning, we got confirmation that they have her. We don't know where. Apparently, they want to know about...you. They still think you are the brains of the operation."
If I'd been standing, I'd have sunk into the chair. As it was, I sat harder.
"Fuck," I muttered.
"Yeah," empathized April. "Right now, the FBI - and our guys - think you are safer out here. They are still looking for you, but they think you are in Boston, because Megan is. We think their getting her was dumb luck. She was seen and recognized by chance and they took advantage of the opportunity. That's what the smart money is thinking, anyway."
"What can we do?" I asked, giving her a very worried look.
"Right now? Nothing. They will keep her alive right now because they want you. She's their only link to you, so they'll keep her...intact."
"They want me?"
She shrugged. "It sure seems that way from the chatter we heard on the last bug we have in their HQ. It's a union shop. But they won't keep her there. This is the Boston Irish Mob, they have places all over the city. If the FBI knew where she was, they'd have gone in guns-a-blazing by now. But they can't afford to make a mistake and storm the wrong place - that would end her life and destroy any ability they have to catch these scumbags."
Fuck. Fuck! Double Fuck! Well, there was only one thing to do. It was obvious. To me.
