Busman's Holiday
Chapter Twenty-five: Saying Goodbye

"FOR A MOMENT THERE, I was afraid I was going to have to shoot him," Josie says of Igor as she removes the dressing from Lucas's wound. "I really didn't want to, you know."

They have finally arrived at the extraction point and have a couple of hours until sunset, when the helicopter will come for them. Boo is stretched out along the back of the truck seat, apparently sleeping, utterly still except for his breathing, the twitching of the tip of his tail, and the vibration of the ends of his whiskers cause by his purring. Igor and Natalia are sitting on the ground in front of the truck, their hands behind their backs, bound around the trunks of two small trees with more of Josie's ubiquitous zip ties. The two wounded men are resting in the back of the truck, under Alexei's watchful eye. He has once again been thoughtful enough to allow Josie and Lucas some privacy. Lucas is sitting on the truck's bench seat with his wounded leg stretched out in front of him. Josie sits on the edge of the seat, gently cleaning his wound and re-binding it with fresh bandages torn from a clean shirt.

"You don't need to explain yourself to me," Lucas says. "As far as I am concerned you showed him more kindness than he deserves."

Josie looks up at him with a frown.

"That isn't a criticism of you," he tells her. "Just my opinion of him. I'd rather shoot him than have to look at him."

"I know, and I feel that way, too," she replies, "but when you get right down to it, I don't have it in me to kill a man just because I hate him. I could only do as much as I did by reminding myself over and over that he deserved it for what he did to you."

"That's what makes you better than him," Lucas says, "…and me, for that matter."

"No, Lucas, not you."

"Says the woman who stopped me from crushing his windpipe with a rifle strap," he reminds her.

"Says the man who stopped himself," she counters.

Lucas smirks and shakes his head, unwilling to argue. They're quiet for a few minutes as she collects a number of items – her phone, her knives, his guns, all of their dirty clothes, a handful of used zip ties and another of spent shell casings, and various other odds and ends – and stuffs them into a backpack.

"When you get out into international waters, throw this overboard," she instructs. "It's all the physical evidence linking me to today's events."

Lucas nods, but he asks, "Why don't you just come with me? Leave the country and you won't have to worry about any legal problems that might arise from helping me."

"Why don't you just stay here?" she replies. "I'm sure Harry could get you a legitimate visa or perhaps even a position as a minor diplomat, which would provide you immunity."

"I can't love," Lucas says, shaking his head. "I have to go back. The UK is my home."

"There's your answer, then," she says. "We knew going in that we'd have to part, Lucas. It's no use pretending there are other options now."

Lucas sighs. He knows she's right. So rather than feeling sorry for himself, he drops the bag onto the floor and pulls her to him for a long, tender kiss.

"WHAT ARE YOUR PLANS after Alexei and I leave?" Lucas asks.

He is still stretched across the truck seat, but Josie has moved to sit on the floor of the passenger side next to him, her legs dangling outside the truck. The demands of the day and the rising humidity have made her hair curl wildly, and when she doesn't answer after several moments, he takes a winding lock between his fingers and tugs it gently. She looks up at him and smiles, and suddenly he can't imagine there isn't anything he wouldn't do to see her smile like that again.

"I'm going to dispose of this truck," she says, "get the bikes home, call my mother, and sleep until school starts."

"Call your mother?" Lucas asks incredulously. "What for?"

"Just to talk," Josie says with a shrug. "She's a worrier, more so now that I'm home, I think, than when I was in the Marines. If she doesn't hear from me every other day, she starts to get upset. I think, maybe, subconsciously, she's trying to make up for lost time."

"What do you talk about?" he asks, just because he's tired and likes the sound of her voice.

"Oh, I'll tell her about the garden and the cat," she says. "The same kind of stuff you tell your mom, I suppose."

"Ah, I see."

"Lucas, you should call your mom," she says sternly, guessing by his uncomfortable silence that he doesn't. "I don't care what you do for a living or how busy you are, you can spare five minutes twice a week to let her know you're all right and that you're eating well. Tell her something funny you saw in a store or something."

"Yes, Miss," he replies obediently.

"I mean it!" she says sternly. "Promise me you'll do that."

"I'll try," he says, realizing she wants him to take her seriously. "I just don't want to lie to her when she asks about work."

"Then don't," Josie says. "She knows what you do now. Tell her when she's asking questions that you can't answer. That's what I've always done."

"And how's she take that?" he asks.

"Surprisingly well, especially considering I still have to do it sometimes, to protect student confidentiality. When school's in session, I tell her about my classes and anything funny or interesting that happens. Then she'll tell me about some eligible bachelor I have to meet." She chuckles and tells him, "Once it was a specialist her doctor had sent her to see. A podiatrist."

"You mean a chiropodist?" Lucas asks, teasingly.

"Not in this country," Josie replies saucily, "but yes, a foot doctor."

She shudders and makes a sound of disgust.

"What's wrong with that?" Lucas asks, amused.

"Feet are disgusting," she says, in much the same tone as a child referring to Brussels sprouts. "Bleah!" she shudders again. "I couldn't bear to have him touch me. To cap it off, I knew him in school, and he was a jerk then, too!"

"Excuse me, but I seem to recall you sucking my toes at some point in the past twenty-four hours," he reminds her.

"Damn," she whispers softly. Aloud, she lies, "Uh…that must have been the cat?"

He face is turned down and her hair shields her face from his view, but he can tell she is blushing by how red the tips of her ears and the line of the part in her hair have become.

"His mouth isn't big enough, and his tongue isn't that soft," Lucas points out in amusement.

He hears her take a deep breath, and then she looks up at him. She turns several more shades of red as she speaks, but she holds his gaze the entire time.

"All right, fine, I'll admit it," she says, "I have a foot fetish. On babies and small children, they are adorable. I love to blow raspberries on them and watch the kids giggle. With adults, it's another matter entirely. I find them either unbelievably sexy or utterly revolting. There is no middle ground. Either I want to suck your toes or ask you to put on some socks. I don't know why I'm embarrassed about it. Everybody has a kink. Anyway, the idea of dating a podiatrist was, to me, like dating a prostitute who specializes in hand jobs. Dating the one who treated my mother's bunions…"

She shudders and makes that disgusted sound again.

"…incestuous," she mutters.

Lucas explodes in laughter, great, side-splitting gales that shake him so hard that his leg starts to throb, but he can't even acknowledge the discomfort because he's too consumed by good humour. He can tell Josie is growing annoyed with him, but at least she has the courtesy to sit and wait until he can speak.

"Please, love, don't be angry," he beseeches her. "I'm not laughing at you."

"Well, as I am not amused, you could hardly be laughing with me," Josie grumbles.

"Please, don't let your feelings be hurt," Lucas begs. "If anything, I am laughing in delight to know exactly where I stand with at least one person in the world."

He can see her resolve crumbling. She doesn't want to be angry with him. Eventually she gives a sly smile and says, "Ok, I've bared my soul to you. Now it's your turn. What's your kink?"

As Lucas considers his answer, he gradually goes from amused to puzzled to genuinely perplexed.

"You know, I honestly don't think I have one," he admits.

"Bull!" Josie says. "You don't get off that easy. Tell me!"

Lucas shakes his head. "Honestly, love, except for snogging a Russian whore in a shady bar in Moscow to hide from the FSB – and she was my contact, so it doesn't really count – what we've been doing for the past few nights is the wildest sex I've ever had."

Josie looks affronted, except for the twinkle in her eye that Lucas has learned means mischief.

"But you're a spy," she teases, "a man of international intrigue and mystery. How dare you be boring?"

"Well, spending eight years in the modern gulag isn't exactly conducive to healthy sexual experimentation," he says.

Even as the words are rolling off his tongue, he knows it's the wrong thing to say, but it's too late to call them back. The reaction he gets is the last thing he wanted, but all he can do now is deal with it.

Josie looks stricken. She turns very pale and begins to shake her head. Her hands come up to cover her mouth and her eyes well with tears.

"I'm so sorry, Lucas," she whimpers.

"It's all right, love," he says gently. She's taking his words far more seriously than he meant them.

"I didn't mean…I wasn't trying to…"

"Don't be upset," he soothes.

"Oh, God!" she sobs softly.

"Please don't cry for m…"

Suddenly she stands up and stalks over to where Alexei is holding the rifle, wrests it from his hands, and turns it on Igor.

"Josie!" Lucas shouts, trying to shift himself out of the truck, but his limbs have grown stiff and clumsy and his wounded leg is painful. "Josie, no!"

He can see her from where he is sitting, and he can tell she is shaking, though with grief, or fear or rage, he does not know. Igor cowers away from her.

"Josie, don't do this," he pleads, knowing it would destroy her to murder an unarmed and helpless man. He tries again to get out of the truck. This time, he manages to push himself past the pain and stiffness to swing his legs down off the seat, but in the tight confines of the truck cab, his legs begin to cramp severely. If he were to actually get out and try to cross the distance to her, he would more than likely just fall on his face.

He knows she is still weeping when she lowers the gun to rub the sleeve of her shirt across her eyes, but then she raises the rifle and aims it at Igor again.

"Josie!" Lucas yells sternly, trying to get through to her. "I don't want you to do this!"

For a moment, she goes very still, and he really thinks she is going to do it. Then she screams in frustration thrusts the rifle back into Alexei's hands, and begins to stalk away. After a few steps, she stops, tears and her hair and groans loudly. Then she turns, goes back to Igor, and kicks at him several times, but she can't even bring herself to kick him hard enough to really hurt. It just shows Igor that she really doesn't have any compassion for him and all she needs is a reason to really hurt him.

Lucas is tremendously relieved to find that she spoke the truth when she said she didn't have it in her to kill a man for hate and nothing else. One of the things he loves about her is that she is so tough, yet so kind, and he thinks it might have broken his heart to be disappointed in her this way. He hears her sit on the running board outside of the driver's side door and calls to her.

"Josie, come here, love."

She opens the door and looks sadly at him.

"I don't want you to be sad for me or angry for me because of anything he did to me or anything that happened to me in the past," he says. "When I think of you, it will always be with a smile, because I will think of the lovely times we had in the past few days. If you can't do that, too, then I would rather you just forgot me."

She sniffles and sighs.

"I'm sorry," she says. "I'm just overtired, and I hate him for what he did to you."

"I love how fiercely protective you've been of me," he says. "It's been a while since I felt like someone was taking care of me the way you have."

"I should have done better, you were shot."

"Not your fault," he says sternly. "I don't want you walking around full of hate for a man you barely know just because he mistreated me. It's over. I've put it behind me as best I can. I'm moving forward, and nothing you can do to him will change what he did then or help me now. It will only hurt you, do you understand?"

She sniffles again and nods.

"Now come here, love."

It takes some careful manoeuvring, but she manages to climb up and lie down on the truck seat beside Lucas. She rests with her ear to his chest, listening to his heartbeat, occasionally sighing contentedly as he cards his fingers through her hair, and he feels the weight of her body as it gradually melds against his. Within minutes, she is sound asleep.

THE SKY IS THAT DEEP SHADE OF PURPLE that it can only achieve just before full dark away from the city lights when Lucas hears the throb of the helicopter's propeller over the whirr of the cicadas, the croaking of the bullfrogs, and the warbling, sometimes mournful, song of the night birds. He feels something inside his chest constrict, and he can almost believe that Josie is sensing to his dismay when she begins to rouse.

"My ride is here love," he says, trying to sound upbeat.

She cocks her head and listens, looks pained, and then forces a smile.

"Then I guess we'd better get you ready to travel," she says, not entirely succeeding in sounding cheerful.

"Last chance to change your mind," he says, and immediately regrets it when he sees the sorrow in her eyes.

"Last chance to change yours," she responds.

"I think I'm going to need some help to shift myself out of the truck," he says, ignoring her invitation because it is a pointless conversation that will only make them both sad. "My limbs don't seem to want to cooperate."

"Are you in pain?" Josie asks solicitously, pressing one hand to his brow to check for fever and resting the other comfortingly on his arm.

"No," he says, leaning away from her touch. "I've just stiffened up a bit sitting here for so long."

If he is feverish, he doesn't want her to know it. Already, they are having to speak up to hear one another over the noise of the approaching helicopter. In a matter of minutes, he will be leaving her behind, forever. He doesn't want to leave her worrying about whether he has developed an infection in his wounded leg.

Lucas grits his teeth against the pain and keeps quiet as she helps him to bend and pivot until he is sitting properly on the truck seat and then uses the crutches to keep himself upright. He doesn't care about presenting a heroic image, he's not that macho and he knows it. He can't prevent her from seeing how battered he is, but he is determined to leave her satisfied that he is unbroken. As soon as she is sure he won't fall over if left unattended, Josie turns on the truck's headlamps to light the landing zone, takes the rifle from Alexei, and gestures for him to cut Igor and Natalia free.

The end of Lucas's busman's holiday, when it comes, is anticlimactic. A black EC155B with its lights off touches down in the swath of light Josie has provided. Four SAS men scramble out of it, load the wounded, handcuff Igor and Natalia, and secure them in the aircraft. At least one of the men speaks Russian for Alexei's benefit, tells him Elena and Max are already on their way to London, instructs him where to sit, and helps him strap in.

Lucas will not be rushed, though. He hobbles slowly toward his transportation, Josie at his side carrying the backpack full of evidence. He wants to touch her for just a little longer and casts aside one of his crutches to put his arm around her shoulders instead. She slides her arm around his waist and gives a little squeeze, smiles up at him, and leans her head against his shoulder as they walk. At the helicopter, Josie waits for him to clamber up into his seat, then she reaches up and straps him in. It's too noisy for a quiet, intimate goodbye. Instead Josie drops the backpack at his feet.

"In less than two hours, you'll be safely out on the high seas," she shouts. "Don't forget to throw the bag overboard once you reach international waters!"

"I won't!" Lucas shouts back.

She tucks an envelope in his pocket and says, "That's contact information for some friends of mine who can help arrange the immunity agreements. I'm counting on you lot to get that done for me. I don't want to live the rest of my life with this hanging over my head."

"You won't," he says. "You have my word."

They stare at each other for a moment, each of them lost for words. Then she steps up onto the running board, and gives him a last, sweet kiss. He thinks to reach out and embrace her, but he is too slow. Before he can put thought into action and hold on, she is down on the ground and backing away.

"Travel safely!" she shouts. "And be well!"

"I will!" Lucas replies. "You, too!"

These are the last words he says to her as one of the SAS men slams the door shut. They have been incredibly kind in giving Lucas this much time to say goodbye, but it is time to go. He watches as one of the men shakes Josie's hand and salutes her, more than likely giving her a proper official thank you from the United Kingdom. In response, Josie snaps off a smart salute of her own in the American style.

Finally, the helicopter is rising, turning in the air, and moving off. Lucas watches Josie, standing in the stark glow of the truck's lights, looking up at him and waving until he can't see her anymore.

Then he settles back in his seat, folds his arms over his chest, closes his eyes, and tries to get some rest.

And still, he sees her there.

The End

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Author's note: Little League Baseball and any other trademark phrases used without consent. They say to write about what you know and the biggest thing to hit my hometown is the Little League World Series, when thousands of tourists descend upon the area every August. The history of the organization, from its start with just three locally-sponsored teams – Lycoming Dairy, Lundy Lumber, and Jumbo Pretzel – to the 2.6 million kids and 1 million adult volunteers in 180,000 teams, in 7,000 leagues, in over 100 countries, is fascinating stuff. I was planning to write a long, educational afterword for those who are interested, but all you have to do is type Little League World Series, Little League International, Little League Baseball, or Little League Williamsport into any decent search engine and you'll find a wealth of information.

Little League teams from Moscow have advanced from regional play to the Little League World Series a total of five times, all between 2001 and 2006. They only ever won a single game in Williamsport and never made it out of pool play. Alexei's team is pure fiction and just a convenient excuse to get Lucas to America.

I hope you all enjoyed the tale.