CHAPTER TWENTY-SEVEN

“There are people in your life

who've come and gone.

“They let you down...

you know they hurt your pride.

“You better put it all behind you...

because life goes on.

“You keep carrying that anger,

it'll eat you up inside...”

- Don Henley

Over the next few days, Erika Donaldson watched in progressively greater unsettlement as events transpired.

First, once there had been had insufficient excuse to continue avoiding it, she'd been forced to order the course change that would bring her under the authority and hegemony of one Rear Admiral March Patterson.

Then, it had become clear that one of the individuals who'd been brought aboard her ship, Ensign Aedra Anari, had been horribly mistreated at the hands of the Orions… and considering wherefrom Griffin had been fleeing, it hadn’t been hard to guess the nature of the abuse. Hatshepsut and Parihn had been sequestered with the girl since they'd come aboard; and Erika's CMO, Michael Conroy, had grimly told her both that he wasn't at liberty to discuss anything of what had occurred… and not to ask again.

Animals.

After that, they'd diverted briefly to rendezvous with the Norway-class starship, USS Roanoke, and taken aboard a grim-faced, haunted-looking Elaasian she’d learned was the young woman's fiancé, Lieutenant Commander Daros Va'qel.

Finally, Luciano Mantovanni, a man she considered one of her closest friends, rather than seeking her out for a companionable reunion and what she bet was much-needed commiseration over the loss of his command, had instead donned a cloak of forbiddance and sequestered himself in the VIP quarters she'd provided him.

He wants to be left alone. He's made that abundantly clear.

For 40 hours, that argument had kept her at bay.

Finally, though, it had been overwhelmed by a subtler and, to her, far more important one.

You know what? Too bad.

Now, as she sounded his quarters' door chime, Donaldson wondered what type of and how difficult a battle awaited her.

A resigned, “Yes, Erika?” left her nonplused.

How does he do that?

She sat down across from him, taking the couch. Erika was unused to conceding the best seat in the room to someone else… but her friend and former lover had also, for six months, been her commanding officer, so the precedent was already established.

“So they relieved you… so what? You'll get another ship. A tugboat… an ore carrier… a garbage scow…”

He grunted.

The great communicator, she thought wryly… but then had an instinct that she was barking up the wrong, or at least the smaller, tree.

“Hey… that is what's bothering you, right?”

She knew him well. Luciano Mantovanni might tell her, “What's ‘bothering’ me is none of your business,” but he'd never lie.

“Cicero? You've helped me in the past. Let me do the same.

“Talk to me.”

It was still surprising that he did—at length.

When he was finished, Erika Donaldson added his revelations to the pile she'd made, and entitled, “Shitty Things that Have Recently Happened.”

“That's a… hell of a way to find something like that out,” she managed. “But maybe…”

“It's damned humiliating is what it is, Erika.”

Humiliating.

Humiliating?

Donaldson couldn't believe what she'd just heard. Her level of upset at his comment caught her completely by surprise; it touched and resonated with something she'd been carrying for a long time… and she found she couldn't restrain the torrent of words, and emotions, that spilled forth.

“You know, I'd like to take a moment and examine the depth of your humiliation, Captain, point-by-point.

“Were you together… truly a couple? The answer to that, by your own declaration, is no… so it shouldn't matter with whom Parihn slept if you weren't clear on your intentions.

“Is she pining away for this man? Is she even torn between the two of you? Perhaps you should find out instead of mooning in here.”

“I’m not ‘mooning,’” he protested harshly.

She ignored him.

“Did she prefer him to you in bed?” Or, more importantly, in her heart? “You'll pardon my familiarity and vulgarity, here, but I find that pretty fucking unlikely… pun intended.”

His shields seem to be holding firm.

Well, you know what? I've got a few more shots left, Cicero... and I know your modulation better than just about anyone.

“Now, we'll contrast that with my experiences as relate to one Aaron Westlake—who married me, and then proceeded to screw every woman who'd allow him between her legs. He even did it with Erika Benteen once, long before our wedding, when I was off planet during our Academy days. As you may have guessed, I heard about it from her… and, genius that I am, forgave him far more readily.

“After all,” she added with a sarcastic lilt, “men are weak… but she should have known better.

“Now Aaron and I eventually made our peace, Cicero… and you had a lot to do with that. I'd like to return the favor… and, frankly, my job would be a hell of a lot easier than yours was, if you weren't being such a childish, obstinate, melodramatic ass!”

His answer surprised her.

“I know... but…”

Erika leaned forward, and insistently whispered, “Cicero… just let it go… forgive her… and you can both move on—together or apart.”

She watched him struggle, and wished to offer comfort… but knew he had to work it out on his own.

When he looked up, his expression, for all its understatement, was dark and forlorn.

He gritted, “I’m not sure I can.”

Damn it. Not good enough.

And with that, Erika Donaldson decided to take action.

As Mantovanni watched in growing unease, she first stood, then unpinned her hair... and, finally, began to remove her clothes.

He wasn’t easy to surprise, but she’d just managed it.

“Wha–... what the hell are you doing?!”

She tossed her uniform jacket onto the now unoccupied couch, paused, then regarded him with a glare taken in part from his inventory, and in part from her own.

“Well, from what you're telling me, and maybe not telling me, the problem seems to be that she's more recently slept with someone else than you have... and that, like a typical man, that's what’s really getting to you.

“So maybe if you fuck me, right now, you can get past this. Then you’re the last one who did it with somebody else again.

“Isn’t that just the perfect solution?”

At that, she continued with her impromptu striptease.

As any man would, he looked her up and down… but his expression was aghast. Despite the situation, Erika’s warped and self-effacing sense of humor remained intact.

Nice to know I’m as sexy as ever.

After another moment, though, the situation became a little desperate, as she began to run out of garments that would make a point…

…as opposed to revealing a few.

“Uh... Cicero? Somewhere along the line you're supposed to tell me to stop taking my clothes off—that I'm being ridiculous.”

He gave a guilty start.

“Stop taking your clothes off. You're being ridiculous.”

Relieved, Erika reversed her motions, and began to redress, managing it with a great deal more speed—if a bit less style—than she had while removing them.

Of course, the saddest, most pathetic part about it is, up until a few months ago, I would have let him have me again—happily—even though I knew we had no future.

She finished replacing her garments, then insisted, “And so are you.”

That comment didn't go over well; and, despite their friendship, Erika was reminded that even she wasn't immune to his glower. But she accepted it, and refused to react, determined not to let this become truly acrimonious.

It was obvious too much depended on it.

“Hey...” she murmured, touching, then taking hold of his hand, “I know how proud you are... and, I, more than most, know how wounded you feel—Aaron had a girl in every port before I smartened up and left him—but this is totally different, Cicero. You weren't really with her… there was no firm commitment between you… and, even if there had been, she was obviously not looking to hurt you with what she did. Parihn couldn't have anticipated you following her part way across the quadrant and arriving at precisely the wrong moment.”

Then, she made a face—half-reflective, half-sour.

“Of course, you managed to walk in on me just after some of my… hi-jinks with March Patterson. Incredible timing, I might add. Maybe you just have an instinct for making yourself miserable.”

At that, he actually barked out a brief, guttural laugh.

“You thought I was dead. That, in my opinion, qualifies as an extenuating circumstance. There's a difference,” he emphasized, “between being sorry… and being sorry you got caught, Erika.”

“True enough. And maybe there's an element of the latter in Parihn's distress. I don't know; I can't read her mind. But you could ask her. I think she's an honest person.

“There are a few reasonable explanations—none of which you'll like.

“Perhaps it was a matter of living for the moment, and she just couldn't help herself, or didn’t want to… you know, was temporarily overcome with passion for this man, and acted on it? As you’re well aware, heated one-night stands do happen—even between the 'morally upright.' If I’m not mistaken, a number of your last few encounters have been that sort, haven’t they?”

He scowled at her obvious reference to both their times together, and his night with Parihn, but made no response otherwise.

“Maybe our pretty little Orion was simply enjoying a brief sexual reunion with a past lover… you know, a last enjoyable 'What Cicero doesn't know won't hurt him, and I've always liked the way this guy does me' little fling before committing permanently to you—assuming you two were headed in that direction, and she actually knew it. That's far more about variety, opportunity, and even convenience than it is preference or fidelity.

“It's even possible Parihn simply engages in sex when she wishes it, and has different ideas about how important monogamy is—that, because of her upbringing or past, the type of exclusivity, or at least circumspection and regard, you and I take for granted never occurred to her. Hell, who knows? Maybe she would have seen you and casually mentioned the enjoyable sex she had with this guy while she was away.”

Of course, I would have loved to be a fly on the wall for the conversation that would've followed that little revelation.

Donaldson's tone wasn't quite condemnatory when she uttered her next observation.

“Or maybe she just got sick of waiting for you to make love with her again. It has been months, hasn’t it? She may have been sleeping with him, and thinking of you.

“But if you do ask her why she did it, be prepared for a truth you might not want to hear.”

Erika searched his face after saying that, and was stunned at what she saw. That, she realized, might be the very crux of it: The man who'd faced terrors that would freeze others' hearts was now leery of a small, sweet young woman.

He didn't want to be hurt any more than he had been.

My goodness… Luciano Mantovanni is human after all.

Who'da thunk it?

“And most of us have made mistakes with men—slept with one and then been really sorry we did. Again, for me, March Patterson springs to mind—though he is pretty good in bed, I have to admit. Goes to show that a man can do that fairly well, and still be a total piece of shit otherwise. Hell, ask E.B. about her ex-husband, Jason. If not for little Gabi, that would've been a complete disaster—outside the bedroom, that is. Evidently he’s quite satisfying on that score, too.”

Still, Mantovanni didn’t answer. Her words still seemed to be falling into a chasm of rigid indignation… but she knew better, and, after changing tactics, pressed on.

“I have a feeling Parihn's cared deeply about you for a long time... I'm even beginning to think so far back as before the first night you and I tumbled into bed with each other—which means she did my makeup, and sent me off to the cotillion, almost certainly knowing what would happen between us. Maybe she's just unselfish, and was happy to know you were getting some action. God knows we both needed a few good orgasms at that time in our respective lives.

“But if I had to guess, I'd think on some level she probably wasn’t thrilled by it—unless, of course, you later told her you were just doing me a little favor... well, actually, a big favor,” she added, with a gently teasing smile.

The slightly crude attempt to lighten the mood fell even flatter than her previous try had.

OK… exnay on the lighthearted sexual innuendoes.

Oh, boy… you’re definitely in “unyielding Sicilian” mode, aren’t you, my friend?

And I’m not sure how to reach you.

She tried one last time.

“All right, answer me this: Have you ever wanted one person… and had sex with another?”

Now his silence was more eloquent and uncomfortable.

“Yes… I do mean you and me… because I think you cared about Parihn even then, but couldn't acknowledge it because of some stodgy, ridiculously antiquated notion of propriety: 'She's too young for me'; 'She's an officer on my ship, and it's a conflict of interest'; 'She needs time to heal… be herself…' whatever.

“Now I don't hold your seduction of me, or our later encounter, against you. I think we can both face the fact that I always felt more for you, romantically speaking, than you did for me… but I'm a big girl. I did what I wanted. We had a wonderful couple of nights… and have a friendship I'll cherish as long as I live.

“But we're none of us casual people when it comes to sex, Cicero—not even Parihn, I’d guess, despite the ordeal she was forced to endure. Even now, for example, when we've both moved on with our lives, it's not easy for me to imagine you with another woman… and you and I haven't been together in bed for over two years, or, honestly, in our hearts, for almost three. I'm sure you feel the same.

“From the look on your face, though, I'd rather imagine you with Parihn…

“…than without her.”

She stood and moved to the door.

“If you ever cared about me… or her… you need to think about that.”

Chapter Twenty-Six Chapter Twenty-Eight