The Sniper

With my last story, 'An Issue of Trust', my readership hit 4.2 million. All I can say is, WOW. If you'd told me when I joined, I'd be publishing the 62

nd

story I wrote and all bar one scored above 4, I would have laughed at you. It's been an amazing experience and I've met some great people and one life partner through the experience. I'd like to thank you, the readers, from the bottom of my heart for this humbling experience.

My thanks to the beautiful CTC once again for the ideas and edit. Check out how beautiful by visiting our blog, the name of which can be found in the bio of our joint story profile, SemperAmare. There you'll also find more jokes, all my, CTC's and Semper stories, including some not published elsewhere. You can comment on stories without a 12 hour delay and even comment on our proposed 'btbometer'.

There is no sex in this one, sorry.

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"You must be Mrs. Brown."

"Call me Sandra, please. You are Mark?"

"I am. Now, what is all this about, Sandra? You said on the phone that this was a matter of life and death."

"Yes, it is. Not mine you understand, but a... man I know. I believe you have been counselling my husband?"

"Yes, off and on for ten years now. I hope you understand that us military psychologists are bound by the same code of ethics that civilian ones are. I can't discuss details of what he and I discussed."

"Wow, ten years. I had no idea. Sure, I knew he was in the army, but military counselling?"

"Once in, never out, is our motto. Your husband was a sniper in an infantry regiment. We see more than a few of them here at the clinic. You see, most soldiers fire their rifles or whatever and never see the guy they may be hitting. Snipers are different. They see whether the guy has pimples or not, and know exactly who they hit, and what their bullet does."

"So, Dave killed people?"

Mark saw the blood drain suddenly from the face of the obviously terrified woman opposite him, so he poured her a glass of water before continuing.

"Oh yes, Sandra. And not only soldiers either. As you know, the stoushes the Australian Army were involved in during the last Middle East fiasco weren't one side in uniforms shooting at other guys in different uniforms. Most of the enemy were in civilian clothes and, er, they didn't shy away from using children to deliver grenades and rockets. Your husband's job was to ride shotgun on his company and protect them from ALL threats, if you know what I'm saying."

Sandra did read between the lines of what the khaki-clad counsellor was saying and knew why her quiet, gentle husband had needed help. Still, it was disturbing how much she didn't know about him.

"Dave never spoke about his time over there to me."

"Oh, he wanted to; needed to really. But from what he's told me, you've been pretty wrapped up in your own woes recently and he didn't want to burden you with his issues. Is that why you came to see me? He did say that your problems seemed about over, and he was going to open up to you. I've done just about all I can. Now he needs someone he loves and who loves him to open up to. He needs acceptance. He was looking forward to receiving that from you, I can tell you. I don't think I'm breaching confidentiality to say that the burden of carrying all that pain around was really getting to him."

"Um, no. Tell me, has he spoken about me, I mean, recently?"

"No. I haven't seen him for about a month."

"Well, god, this is really embarrassing. What if I gave him some bad news? Could he become violent? He threatened to kill someone, um, close to me. I need to know; is he serious?"

"I tread a fine line here, Sandra, but well, without knowing the details, off the cuff, I'd say no. Dave's reaction to his experiences in the army, if anything, made him more gentle than he was prior. It would have to be bad enough to trigger him regressing to his past; to the time where he had to kill without compunction to save something he valued above anything else. Can you tell me what the bad news you gave him was? I have plenty of time. I have no more clients and my wife is away this week."

He waited patiently while the interplay of emotions ran like a kaleidoscope across the attractive woman's face. Underlying it all was sheer, unadulterated terror. He surmised what she had to tell him was humiliating for her, but that wasn't going to stop her getting the peace of mind she obviously craved. Finally.

"I don't know what Dave told you about me. My problems."

"Just start from the start, Sandra. From when you met him until he made this alleged threat."

"I met Dave eight years ago. I was instantly convinced he was my soulmate. We married within a year. I was waitressing at the time but always wanted a career. Dave supported me finishing the degree I'd had to abandon when I ran out of money. We kind of had an unofficial deal that I'd work for a few years, then have the babies we both wanted.

"It was all going to plan, but a couple of years in my mum got sick; breast cancer. They did a double mastectomy, chemo, all that stuff, but eventually she died. Dave was great. He helped me survive all that. I suppose that's what you meant when you said he was so busy supporting me that he didn't have a chance to tell me about his past; his problems."

Mark nodded and waited.

"I got myself tested for the breast cancer gene and they found I had it. Even though they caught my mum's early, it was still too late. Dave supported me in my decision to have both my breasts removed; I just couldn't take the chance. It was classed as elective surgery, so our insurance wouldn't cover it. Dave wanted the best surgeon for me, so when I didn't have enough saved from my job, he made up the difference without hesitation."

Sandra paused as painful memories, long buried, ate at her.

"Tough, was it?"

"Unbelievably. Although the surgeon insisted on counselling before I had the op, it wasn't till afterward that it really hit me. I felt like I wasn't a woman anymore. I'm afraid Dave didn't get any, um, intimacy for a long time. I just couldn't stand the thought of him seeing me or touching me naked. Thoughts of kids were shelved as I tried to come to terms with it all."

"Yes, Dave did talk about that time. He understood, though. Not many women would have a guy as patient and understanding as you had."

Sandra dropped her eyes as the truth of the statement hammered into her extremely bad conscience.

The counsellor prompted her to keep going. "So, you decided to have breast reconstruction?"

"Yes. We couldn't afford it, but Dave re-mortgaged his house to pay for it all. He wanted me to get the same size as I was before; said he loved me just the way I was, but I decided on a little upgrade. I'd been barely a B cup, but went for a full D.

"I had the enhancement about eight months ago. I was sore for a couple of months and so that meant poor old Dave still didn't get any oats. But it did give me the confidence to go back to work, I was even promoted."

Again, Sandra paused, deep in thought. Mark thought it useful to fill in a couple of blanks for her.

"Yes, this was the time that Dave started coming to me once a week. His own issues were getting worse as he concentrated on helping you. He was really looking forward to you getting better so he could talk about his issues. You must have noticed something."

"Well, looking back on it, he did seem a little down for the last month or so, and his nightmares got so bad that I asked him to sleep in the spare room."

The sense that this woman was completely egocentric was firming in the counsellor's mind. He brought the discussion back on topic.

"He had it all planned out, you know. He was going to hire a cabin in the woods for a week and unload. How did that go?"

Mark started to get a horrible sinking feeling when Sandra's chin dropped to her chest and fat tears started to fall. He gave her time to compose herself.

"Yes, that was this week. He was being all mysterious, but he took a week off work and we went off last Friday. He seemed disappointed that I would only go for the weekend."

"And did he unload? Did he tell you about the time he..."

"No. He wanted to talk about something, but I got in first."

"And can I surmise that what you told him sparked why we are here today?"

Sandra nodded.

There were so many signs of guilt that Mark didn't need her to fill in the details. But she had to verbalise them herself. The words had to be said. He waited.

"Dave obviously hoped we'd reconnect, you know, as man and wife, on the Friday night. He cooked a lovely meal, lit candles and everything. But I just couldn't."

Mark remained silent. Waiting for the inevitable and horrific admission he knew was coming.

"I told you that I'd had the enhancement eight months ago and was sore for a couple of months after that. I didn't sleep with my husband even after the soreness went away because, well, because my lover told me not to."

Sandra didn't dare look up at Mark's face. She couldn't handle the condemnation she might, even should, see there. It wouldn't have mattered anyway. With the things he'd seen and heard in his career, Mark was expert at hiding his own feelings and emotions. When Dave had first come to see him and had totally broken down describing how he'd had to shoot a teenage boy who was obviously hiding in wait for soldiers under Dave's protection, with his hand hidden under his over-large coat, he'd remained outwardly unmoved. His patients deserved that. Dave had been sitting in the very chair his wife now sat.

Perhaps Sandra should have looked up. It couldn't be any worse than the self-condemnation happening inside her own head. Her betrayal had been hard enough on her conscience before. Now she knew her husband had been battling his own demons all along, it was crippling. The silence dragged on, uncomfortably long.

"I saw how Dave had prepared the cabin and I knew I had to stop him getting his way. I was planning to tell him what I did, but not for a couple of weeks. I decided to tell him there and then, rather than waiting. I had to; I couldn't think of a valid reason not to have sex with him. I'm just lucky he hasn't pressed me before; after all, the soreness from my operations has been gone for months."

Sandra lapsed into silence again. Mark found his growing contempt for this woman was making him impatient. His rumbling stomach also reminded him he hadn't eaten since breakfast.

"What was the big news, Sandra?"

Sandra felt the need to justify her actions, so paused to collect her thoughts and plan her words.

"After the breast enlargements, well, I became the focus of plenty of male attention. It's remarkable what two cup sizes will do to some men. There was one guy I met, a friend of a friend; his name is Jo..., no, don't worry about his name."

Mark noticed that rather oddly at this point, Sandra glanced over her shoulder at the vacant parts of his room. Strange, he thought.

"We got talking; firstly, just when we were out with friends together, then just the two of us. He told me that his mother had died of breast cancer as well. In fact, we had so many things in common. I started making excuses to Dave on why I had to work late or be somewhere else on the weekend. He trusted me so he never asked any difficult questions."

'At least she has the decency to look embarrassed about this breach of a good man's trust,'

Mark thought to himself.

"The strange thing about a personal tragedy is that it can drive a wedge between you and other people. Although Dave held my hand through Mum's passing and all through my surgical worries, I felt that he never really understood what I was going through. Jo..., this guy had such similar experiences to me that it was like he could finish my sentences. We grew very close."

Sandra paused to blow her nose. Mark butted in, more and more impatient.

"When was all this, Sandra?"

"I met him about six months ago."

"So, that would be about a month after the augmentation? Hmm. Well, I don't need to know much else about your relationship with this guy. It's obvious you started an emotional affair with him. Thank god, it didn't progress to the physical. From the extensive things Dave has told me about you, I know you had a deal to ask for a divorce from each other before getting, ah, physical with someone else."

The sudden sob from the woman in front of him sent shivers down Mark's spine. He knew how damaged Dave Brown was and assumed his wife did as well, even without knowing the details. Surely, she wouldn't hurt him that way? He was struck dumb with awful thoughts screaming into his head. It was a struggle to maintain a professional façade. Sandra sobbed away with her face fully facing the floor. Time to get this over with. He had a responsibility to the army, to Dave.

"Tell me, Sandra. What exactly did you tell Dave at the cottage?"

The authority in his voice brooked no disobedience. Sandra responded reflexively.

"Like I said, I wasn't prepared for that conversation on Friday. I made the decision to advance my timetable on the fly."

"And?"

"I told Dave I'd fallen out of love with him and wanted a divorce to marry someone else. My soulmate."

"What was his reaction? Exactly?"

"Well, he went kind of cold and blank. Said he thought he was my soulmate. Then he asked me..., if I'd slept with the guy."

Mark's growing sense of dread worsened. Much depended on the answer this woman had given her husband. He knew that.

"What did you answer to that, Sandra?"

"I... I didn't. I couldn't. I couldn't hurt him like that. I ended up saying nothing. He... he must have guessed the truth anyway. That I'd been sleeping with John. Well, we were in love. Dave just looked away from me. I think he may have been crying. I waited for him to absorb it all so we could talk about the separation. I suppose I gave him five minutes and was about to raise it when he turned his eyes to me.

"It was horrible. Whoever... Whatever was looking at me, it wasn't Dave. There was not one mannerism or expression that I recognised. Even his eyes looked a different colour."

Mark saw Sandra shudder. He kept silent as he couldn't trust himself to speak at the moment.

"If I thought his face was scary, his voice, when he spoke, was like the lid being slid off a stone sarcophagus. It was horrible."

"What did he say, Sandra? It's important to be precise. Tell me exactly what he said. Do you remember?"

"Oh, I remember all right; it's why I'm here."

"What?"

"Like I said, it was like he was someone else; someone I'd never met before."

"You'd better believe you're more right than you'll ever know about that."

Sandra carried on as if Mark hadn't spoken.

"It was terrifying. He just looked at me with those dead eyes and said,

do you think I'll let you ride into the sunset with lover-boy and live happily ever after

?

There is nowhere in this country or anywhere that the wife stealing prick can hide. I'll find him and kill him.

"He then pressed me for my lover's name, but I didn't answer him. He just grabbed my phone and drove off. He left me with no car at that cabin in the woods. It took me six hours to get home. Some of Dave's stuff was gone and I've checked; all our bank accounts have been closed; none of my cards work.

"I can't ring to warn John; his number was programmed into my phone, but I can't remember it. I'm not worried about the call log giving John away to Dave as I hardly ever rang him from my cell or home phone. His name is in there along with forty or fifty others. I don't want to ring our mutual friends to pass a message to John in case Dave is monitoring me somehow. I think he's watching the house. I can't even go to John's house to warn him. I'm stuck and don't know what to do. I can't contact my soulmate without exposing him to danger from my husband. I live in terror that John will come around to the house after not being able to speak to me.

"That's why I came to see you. I need to see John but can't without exposing him to danger. Should I be scared? Is Dave capable of doing what he said?"

Sandra paused to look at the counsellor with wide, imploring eyes, hoping he would say she didn't have to make the worst choice of her life; to never see her soulmate again. But that was a path she'd gladly take rather than exposing him to be killed by an avenging husband. Even though she knew she'd never find true happiness with anyone else as long as she lived.

Mark's professional countenance slipped, his voice revealing his despondence as he saw all his hard work with Dave Brown evaporating in his mind's eye.

"I imagine there is a strong possibility that a shock like that could throw him straight back to sniper mode. He will have to protect his 'group', that being, you and him, his team, by killing your lover. Plus, I imagine he'll find it very soporific, almost therapeutic to exact some revenge."

Sudden anger overwhelmed Mark and he stared at Sandra, condemningly. Years of work had gone into recreating Dave Brown as a useful, balanced citizen. The self-centred bitch before him had unravelled all that in six months and one conversation. His normal professional detachment broke. Over the years he'd formed a bond with his patient and really thought they were near the end. Now, that all lay shattered in the dust.

"You stupid self-centred slut! What have you done? I'm surprised your husband didn't strangle you there and then. It must have only been his residual love for you that stopped him. As for the slimy little cunt who helped rip out Dave's heart, I wouldn't give a fart's chance in a jacuzzi for him living thirty minutes from the time Dave discovers his whereabouts. Get the fuck out of my office, you slag!"

"Hey, you can't talk to me like that."

"I can talk to you any way I like. You didn't come here as a patient, but as a private citizen. You've probably destroyed one of the most decent guys I've ever met, just because you couldn't keep your promises and your fucking legs together. When I last saw him, Dave strode out of here with a vigour I'd never seen before. Now you've destroyed him."

The woman with the white face continued to sit and stare incredulously at him. The half minute it took her to decide to leave, allowed him to cool down. He felt obliged to give her some advice as she opened the door.

"You're in grave danger. Once Dave completes the process of falling out of love with you, he may well lash out at you. You want to pray he finds your lover first. That way his sense of outraged justice may be satisfied before he comes after you. Personally, I think you deserve everything you get. I despise you."

More blood drained from Sandra's head and she sagged against the door frame. Not only because she now had confirmation she and John were in real danger, but for the things this member of a healing profession obviously felt about her. Shocked that what she'd told him had caused his professional demeanour to slip so badly. She stumbled from the office hoping her car had enough fuel left to get her home.

DESPITE WHAT THE counsellor had said, Sandra never felt in any danger from Dave. She was absolutely terrified for John, though. Her conscience was also troubling her greatly. To calm her nerves, she hit the top shelf of the liquor cabinet. As she felt the glow start to relax her, she yearned for the sound of her lover's voice. The thought of putting him in danger froze her. If she didn't contact him soon, he was sure to come looking for her and thus expose himself if Dave had the place under surveillance. To save him, she must contact him. To contact him was to put him in danger. Catch 22.