#because i did very very loosely run with axis-type spots

[kifu]

A little bit of character design. ;) For a comic! That may never leave the brain.

[secretgamergirl]

RPG Campaign Setting Thoughts - Alignments, Death, and Outsiders

Continuing on from this post here, tonight we have some VERY sketchy notes about the Outer Planes and associated stuff, which is going to spill over from world-building into mechanics and this is all too loose for me to bother with anything resembling in-book presentation.

The Outer Planes have traditionally always served two purposes in this cosmology of D&D and its derivatives which are honestly somewhat at odds with each other. They are both the actual afterlife of the setting, where the souls of the dead end up, theoretically for eternity, and they’re where all the demons and devils and daemons and angels and maybe gods and a bunch of other really weird things that exist mainly for the sake of symmetry generally hang out when they aren’t being summoned so they tend to prominently feature as a way to go bigger and more epic late in a campaign. It’s also very much a tradition (which is weird because I can’t think of a single religion that actually works like this) where all of these supernatural creatures are what the souls of the dead BECOME in the afterlife. If you’re neutral good, when you die you become an angel. If you’re lawful evil, you become a devil, etc. (and there’s a lot of weird exceptions because there’s way more outsider types than alignment combinations, and that’s before also factoring in undead and reincarnation and so on).

The problem here of course is that sometimes, the PCs are going to end up dying, and having friends who die, and when you’ve established that that turns you into one of these cool types of monsters, and that those monsters can be summoned, dying turns into this weird sort of power-up, and this was fixed with a very... game designer sort of solution. Namely, when you die, you completely lose all your memories, skills, personal connections, and really by any reasonable standard straight up cease to exist, being replaced with some new outsider springing into being on whatever other plane who’s really just a different character doing their own thing. And, yeah, that solves that problem, but it creates the new one that WOW, THIS AFTERLIFE REALLY SUCKS!

Now, I did already establish for this setting the concept of a layered prime material plane, where you can essentially have your high level alternate universes as weird little pocket dimensions you can honestly just walk right into without even using magic... but I mean, visiting the outer planes is still a cool fun thing to do, and fighting demons is a cool fun thing to do, and your soul transforming into some weird thing in the afterlife is just neat. So I don’t want to drop any of that, but I want to make some tweaks.

Also? Death sucks game mechanics wise. Players, as it turns out decades down the road from when this whole RPG thing first began, tend to be really attached to their characters, and don’t want to just rip up their sheets when they die. They want to cheat death. Which is fine. But the way you cheat death is you pay a bunch of money and either have your cleric cast a quick spell (or rush back to town to find one) and tada, you’re back with some temporary experience penalty you either kinda walk off or buy off. Which is all very... weightless. And straight up losing cash sucks if you’re saving up to buy fancy magic stuff. AND you don’t even get to visit the afterlife really.

So... the standard raise dead spells? They’re gone or at least getting alterations (gotta keep reincarnate in some form because I have a soft spot for it). Plane shift? Also gone. Instead we are going to dust off our old pal Astral Projection, have it at a reasonable level, and no, when someone gets killed, you have to cast that sucker, chase them across the astral plane, maybe to one of the outer planes, and have this whole mini adventure of rescuing their soul and shoving it back in their body.

Also? I am sticking to a hard and fast rule that the material plane is the physical plane, and all the outer stuff is all souls and magic. Nobody gets to bring their body with them which also means you don’t get to bring all your fancy equipment. You’re either a ghost getting sucked into hell or you’re a demon that used to be a ghost or you’re still alive but effectively a ghost tethered to home by a silver cord.

By the same token, outsiders can’t just physically come over to the prime material plane. This is kind of a big fundamental shift in things, but at the end of the day, isn’t it just freaking weird that there’s never really been a place in D&D for demonic possession?

So, tada. That’s a thing now. Outsiders on the material plane need to borrow something to use as a body. A willing person to possess, or an unwilling person subjected to a proper ritual first, or a recently sacrificed corpse, maybe some kind of magical focus stone. This is one of the sketchier parts of the idea here, but no matter how it works out it’s a built in adventure hook, and it doesn’t really change a ton because obviously being possessed by a whatever dramatically transforms the host into the standard existing stat block until its defeated. Summon spells kinda need a material component or a focus I guess, or maybe even not because like you’re calling up a whatever but you can’t really anchor it so it just has this unstable body made of dust and debris and temporarily conjured matter.

I’m also tempted to straight up invent a new divine caster class to fit in with this theme that’s all about having some outside pal they let possess them in combat. Get the whole Devilman sorta thing going, Maybe in a little subsection with a really dex-y fighter and a different take on an arcane type and a rogue type for a really non-standard but complementary core 4.

Back on the side of dying and visiting the other planes though, I say this is a good place to wedge in a good ol’ corruption mechanic. If you die,and your friends manage to catch up to you while you’re streaking across the astral plane, cool, no harm, no foul. Once you end up in whatever plane though, you gradually start to turn into whatever sort of outsider. Subtle cosmetic stuff at first, sprouting horns and getting weird colored hair and maybe a tail first, some slight shifts in personality, and over months or years you just kinda naturally lean into that, and your class levels fade away, and you just kinda naturally go all in on being a mephit or an azata or whatever the hell thing.

And then when your friends do get your soul back and shove it into your body again, that weird metaphysical transformative soul corruption deal doesn’t just go away. That’s partially demonified you possessing your old body now, so, you keep the horns and the flaming eyes and stuff as a permanent reminder of that time you died for a bit and you can be all angsty about it and maybe rededicate yourself to something because that’s not an afterlife you want to go back to, and honestly if you’re the sort of person with a real thing for dramatic mid-campaign transformations and you want a character to look all furry or glowing or be a hot demon gal at higher levels without the mechanical baggage of transformation magic, hey, the door’s open a crack for you.

Also speaking of succubi, while I’m playing around with outsiders, this one has always bugged me. Say we’re going all 7 deadly sins. We’ve got our wrath demons- big angry spikey jerks, maybe on fire. We’ve got our sloth demons- big gross sluggy things who can barely move. Our gross-Kirby gluttony demons, etc. But then we get to lust and it’s this super hot seductress. That breaks the pattern and I hate it. I am definitely kicking them out of that niche and replacing them with proper lust demons, evoking super creepy long-fingered horny dudes.

And really there is room from there to expand into a two-tiered system of outsiders for every plane where there’s the things that are there because they’re what happens to the average person who had this alignment as their reward/punishment, and then there’s the things that are their to make sure things run the way they’re supposed to, are generally more powerful, and are formed from the souls of people who really actively served their patron deity in life. I’m mainly looking at this from the angle of “do the members of the cult of this demon lord realize that in the afterlife they’re all going to become lemures and realize how much that sucks?” but even on the good side, you have to figure the average paladin doesn’t want the blissful retirement package after death, they want to do the whole holy avenging archon sort of thing and continue to kick evil’s ass, right?

Which segues me into alignments. A lot of people absolutely hate the traditional law/chaos good/evil alignment system, but I find as long as you’re careful to use it descriptively rather than prescriptively and you don’t use really messed up alignment definitions (AD&D 2nd ed had some DOOZIES), it’s cool. There is one missing element I would like to formally add in though- An extra variable for mundane and divine/committed/radicalized versons of each. Breaking this down with specific examples...

First and foremost, I am a big big fan of neutral as the default alignment nearly everyone falls into, with everything else being a bit of an outlying extreme. On the good/evil axis then, neutral if for people who you would generally describe as basically good people. They know right from wrong, and generally always try to do the right thing, but they have a strong sense of self-preservation. Truly good people go past that and will, as a general rule, really stick their neck out and take major personal risks or do full-on self-sacrificial things to help people. Evil people are all about looking out for themselves first. Or put more simply, seeing someone being attacked/persecuted/in great need, a neutral person will think “someone should do something,” a good person will think “someone should do something and I’m that someone” and an evil person will think “sucks to be that person” and try not to think about them much.

Meanwhile on the law/chaos axis, lawful people have an unflinching commitment to some form of faith in the system/some particular authority/a rigid personal code of some kind.and will always work within that framework. If that’s always obeying the law, any plan that’s explicitly illegal is off the table, and if the law is unjust, working to change it is the way to go. If they’re super religious, doubting their own deity is never on the table. If they’re strict adherents to a code, they don’t make exceptions. “I’ll never allow suffering” never gets a quiet clause of “unless the person suffering is a scumbag who deserves it” they’re really going to intervene over that.

Someone who is chaotic meanwhile actively has a chip on their shoulder about any sort of bureaucracy, full stop will never “have faith in the system,” generally assume any sort of authority figure is a power hungry scumbag, and while it’s hard to translate this into fantasy terms, be the sort of person who always jailbreaks their phone and has a strict no-DRM stance on all their software.

The vast majority of people are, again, neutral, falling between those extremes. Follow the law, trust that calling the cops will usually get things sorted out, but when push comes to shove, most rules are really guidelines and you can make exceptions where you have to.

All of these represent real, realistic attitudes normal real-world people have. Most are true neutral. The corner alignments are the rarest (always going by the book and always sticking your neck out is demanding, looking out for number 1 without bowing down to the powers that be really requires a certain sort of lifestyle, etc.) but there should be people you can point to at all 9 points on the grid, and none of them should really clash so hard that people can’t be friends or live in the same society, and they should all be functional alignments for adventurers since a good adventure should have a mix of personal stakes and rewards and a good party should all like each other enough to stick together through whatever comes up.

Then there’s the more extreme versions of these alignments. Where neutrality becomes about “maintaining the balance” or actively rejecting society as a whole, evil is actively causing harm for harm’s sake, chaos is constant change, law is absolute rigidity and caste structures and such, and good gets really extreme about scope. These are still worldviews actual humans CAN hold, but more typically these are the sort of things supernatural forces get bent out of shape about and have as sources of constant conflict.

Again, lots of loose sloppy notes here, but you can hopefully see where I’m going as far as moral philosophies and cosmology driving games in fun directions, right?

[faveficarchive]

Stay Near, Keep Close: Part 2

By Ms. Auggie

Pairing: Mel/Janice, Xena/Gabrielle

Rating: Mature

Synopsis: Something terrible happens on a dig in Turkey that has Mel and Janice running for their lives. Through separation, war, and death, they manage to find each other.  

CHAPTER 11

Janice tried to twirl her wrists inside the tight handcuffs. She leaned against the wall in the ship’s brig. ‘This isn’t happening,’ she thought as she lightly banged her head against the wall.

Her problems began an hour after being rescued. She had fallen asleep in the infirmary but awoke with the commotion of men and women streaming into the medical area. Survivors! She ran to meet them, looking for Mel.

A few of the men and women were crying and she grabbed a man by the shoulders. She knew the Turkish words for woman and big, and strung them together with a hopeful expression on her face. She could tell they knew she was talking about Mel, but they shrugged their shoulders. She asked everyone she could find. No one knew anything about Mel.

A sailor came into the infirmary. "Have you picked up a woman from the water?"

"Not that I know of. We did find the other boats, but it’s a mess up there," he said pointing above his head.

"Why?"

"It’s full of bodies. The men who jumped into the sea were sucked down with the ship and killed. Their bodies floated back up to the surface. We’ve pulled out 20 bodies so far, and there are more out there."

Janice’s heart rate doubled. She ran past the sailor and on deck. She could see the bodies lined up and the survivors crying over them. She scanned them quickly, but didn’t see Mel. Mel wasn’t dead! She took a large gulp of air and put her hands on her thighs, bending over at the waist to get control of her breathing.

If Mel wasn’t dead, where was she? She must have avoided the undertow, she said she was a strong swimmer. But maybe they just haven’t picked up her lifeless body? Janice was suddenly afraid to go to where the rescue team was using large nets to skim the corpses from the water’s surface. She couldn’t live with the image of Mel’s limp body hitting the deck like some dead carp. She turned around and saw one of the sailors come for her.

"Dr. Covington, the Doc wants you back in the infirmary."

Janice nodded her head. She’d wait below deck.

Another hour passed and no one came to see her. Every minute that ticked by meant Mel wasn’t dead, but rather missing. Janice didn’t know whether she should be relieved or terrified. Then she saw the captain come towards her. She swallowed, tucked in her grimy shirt and moved a loose strand of hair behind her ear.

"Dr. Covington," he nodded.

"Captain."

"We haven’t found her. I don’t know what to tell you except I believe," he hesitated, seemingly for effect, "I believe Miss Pappas must have gotten trapped in the ship and never made it into the water. I believe she went down with the ship." He eyed her carefully.

"I don’t believe that."

"I’m sorry?"

"I said, I don’t believe that. You should keep looking." Janice glared at him. She wasn’t going to let this arrogant, barrel-chested, tinpot captain tell her Mel was dead.

"I’m sorry, we can’t," his voice took on a hard edge and he returned Janice’s glare. "We have a schedule to keep. We were on our way back to our base on Malta when we got the distress call, and while we were glad we could help, we are expected back. We haven’t spotted any other survivors, the bodies we found were relatively close together and we doubt there’s anyone else out there."

Janice felt anger pour into her body. She had to get away from him. She brushed by him, but he grabbed her left arm.

"Where do you think you’re going?"

"Let me go. I’ll find her myself."

He tightened his grip, and Janice felt the rage reach the top of her head. She knew she was about to lose control, and she knew she was going to enjoy what was about to happen.

"You’re not going anywhere," he said. He was tired of this woman’s obstinate behavior. If a sailor acted like this he’d be drawn and quartered.

Her anger exploded and Janice swung her right fist around and hit the captain in the jaw. She yelled and shook out her fist while his head snapped back. She turned to go, but her feet were kicked out from underneath her and her face slammed into the floor.

She awoke in the brig. That was two days ago. The first officer had come to tell her she was under arrest for assault and legal counsel would be available to her when they reached Malta. A sailor delivered food three times a day but he never spoke a word or responded to her questions. All Janice could feel was the ship’s bulk moving farther and farther away from Mel, and the growing despair inside her.

Mel felt her body lifted out of the water. It was a pleasant dream, the feel of air hitting her legs, hands removing her lifejacket. She imagined

they were Janice’s small hands. She imagined they reached inside her shirt and lightly caressed her stomach, brushing against her breasts. She smiled at the thought. A strange language filtered into her brain, but she blocked it out, the same way she blocked out the radio that played when she fell asleep on the porch swing on long summer afternoons.

The Danish doctors and nurses worked on Mel aboard their ship. She was dehydrated and was running a high fever. She was hallucinating and had no idea where she was. For the next two days she moved in and out of consciousness until her fever broke, just as the ship arrived in Rome.

"Hello there."

Mel blinked her eyes. She looked up and saw a blonde man staring down at her. She tried to speak, but her voice was hoarse.

"Don’t try to speak Miss Pappas." He had an European accent. "You are safe, but still very ill."

"Janice?" she croaked.

He smiled at her. "Rest now." She felt a needle go into her arm and once again she was unconscious. The Red Cross doctors, nurses and Mel boarded a plane outside Rome and headed back home to Denmark. Mel never even knew she left the ground.

CHAPTER 12

Malta was a small, clay-baked island that was taking a beating from Italian and German bombers. Yet, it was standing firm, its people and government remaining steadfast, and the British and American forces stationed there were turning the tide, keeping the Axis Powers at bay.

Janice sat in a bare, dark room inside the naval base. She was no longer handcuffed but a guard stood behind her in case she decided to act up. It wasn’t necessary, she had a gaping hole running through her soul. She had little hope Mel would be found. There was a chance a ship had picked her up, but even she conceded it was a slim possibility. She had failed Mel, and she could nothing about it.

Captain Henderson sat in a nearby chair ignoring her. She slowly looked up when she heard two men enter the room. Janice read their name tags: Bishop and Bertinelli. Bishop was a lanky, red-haired man, and Bertinelli was a chubby, bearded fellow. The men sat down behind a desk.

"Dr. Covington, I’m Major Bishop and this is Major Bertinelli. We’d like to ask you a few questions." The man had a peppy, almost happy voice, so unlike the military personnel she was used to.

"Captain Henderson would you please excuse us," said Bertinelli. He had a deadly serious manner and it didn’t seem as if he laughed very often, thought Janice.

"What! I’m here to make sure Covington gets what’s coming to her. I…"

"Did she do that to you?" asked Bishop sticking out his chin in Henderson’s direction.

Henderson rubbed his bruised jaw. "Yes."

"Nice poke, Dr. Covington," remarked the straight-faced Bertinelli.

"Excuse me!" interjected Henderson.

"Henderson, get out. That’s an order, and take the watch dog too." Bertinelli stared down Henderson, who made a loud guffaw noise and left the room with the guard.

Janice was curious. These weren’t navy men, and they shouldn’t have been able to order Henderson out of the room.

"Dr. Covington, if we were to release you today, what would you do?" asked the upbeat Bishop.

"Are you serious?"

"Tell us, honestly."

Janice wasn’t sure if this was some kind of a trap, but she decided she’d tell them the truth. "I’d go down to the waterfront, steal a few bucks and find a poker game. I’d play until I won enough loot to get on a ship that would get me to Lisbon, or close by." Janice had promised she’d make it to the hotel in Lisbon and she would. She’d wait as long as was necessary to be sure Mel was really gone.

"Yes, it says here," Bertinelli looked at his files, "that you were on your way to Lisbon with Melinda Pappas to inspect some artifacts at the national museum."

"That’s right," said Janice a little too quickly.

"Well, the national museum hasn’t heard of you. They’ve heard of your late father, Harry Covington, bad things I’m afraid, but not Janice Covington nor Melinda Pappas."

"That’s odd. They knew we were coming," lied Janice.

"Dr. Covington," interjected Bishop, "do you think you could kill again?"

Janice felt her heart skip a beat.

"What are you talking about?"

"It’s a simple question. We know you shot Hasan Dogu and killed him, could you kill again?" He smiled at her as if he had just asked her if she’d like a cup of coffee.

"I shot that son-of-a-bitch because he was about to rape the woman…my best friend. I don’t know what you boys do when that happens, but us girls like to put a stop to it. If either of you are married, or have children, put your wife or daughter in Melinda Pappas’ place and you’ll understand what I did. So to answer your question, if someone I care about is in danger, then yes, I’d kill again. Otherwise I’m more of the sock ‘em in the jaw type."

Bishop and Bertinelli glanced over at one another.

"We have a proposition for you Dr. Covington that we think will interest you," said Bertinelli.

Janice arched her eyebrows. "Go on."

"We know about your work in Macedonia, and what happened with Dr. Smythe. You were both looking for the, what do you call them," Bertinelli looked over his sheets. "The Xena Scrolls," whispered Bishop. "Right," continued Bertinelli. "As you know Smythe worked for the Germans, and the Germans are spending an inordinate amount of time and energy searching for ancient ruins and artifacts."

Janice was shocked. These were American Intelligence officers who had been keeping tabs on her. That meant they probably knew where Jack Kleinman was, and with their help she’d be able to recover the Xena Scrolls. "I know," she said bringing her attention back to Bertinelli.

"We feel the Germans have an artifact that could uncover the Sumerian Treasure."

"The Sumerian Treasure!"

"Yes, and the gold alone from that trove could fund twenty world wars. The Germans would have an inexhaustible source of wealth and that’s something we can’t afford to let happen.

"How do you know about the Sumerian Treasure," asked Janice.

"It’s our job," smiled Bishop. "What we want you to do for us Dr. Covington is to go to Germany and steal that artifact."

"Are you crazy? I’m no spy."

"If you do, we’ll make sure you get to Lisbon and you can stay as long as you like. If you refuse, we can hand you over to the Turkish government, I’m sure they’d like to meet you."

Janice thought for a long moment. She had her chance. If Mel was alive, she would find her.

"Here’s the deal," she finally said. "I’ll do this if you organize an extensive search of the area where our ship went down and you contact every ship that has sailed anywhere near there to find out if Melinda Pappas has been rescued. You have to find a man named Jack Kleinman, and keep me informed of his whereabouts. You will get me to Lisbon when I’m done, and you will keep me in style for as long as I need to stay there."

The men looked a little wide-eyed. No one had negotiated like that with them before. They turned to each other and spoke quietly.

"All right Dr. Covington," said Bertinelli. "We’ll search for Miss Pappas and Jack Kleinman. Lisbon is no problem, but we’re not sure about the ‘keeping you in style’ part. We aren’t the Pentagon you know."

"I want it all in writing boys."

They hesitated, but finally relented. "Deal."

Janice stood up and walked over to them. She felt her spirit return and that hole in her soul closed ever so slightly. ‘I’m not going to abandon you Mel, not yet.’ She shook their hands. "Deal. Oh, one more thing. I need cigars; lots of ‘em."

CHAPTER 13

Mel felt herself pushing through a fog bank, reaching towards consciousness. She had tried twice before to break through but couldn’t. Now she was close. She finally opened her eyes.

She was in a small yellow room, a hospital room. She rapidly blinked her eyes hoping to get them to focus more clearly. The last thing she remembered was floating in the water and dreaming she heard a boat. Obviously that wasn’t a dream. Someone had rescued her, but she couldn’t remember…wait…a blonde-headed man.

She did a physical inventory, moving her arms, legs and head. Nothing was broken but she felt as weak as a kitten and was terribly thirsty. She cleared her throat, then again, but only louder.

A tall, blonde nurse came into the room. Her face lit up and she shouted something over her shoulder, but it wasn’t in English. Mel tensed. She got the feeling she was far from the Mediterranean.

The nurse came back with the tall, thin, fair-haired man she recognized from her dream. He was also smiling.

"Good afternoon." He had a soft, European accent. Norwegian…no.

"Good aft…" she rasped. The nurse moved quickly and poured a glass of water from the bedside table and held it as Mel drank.

"Thank you," Mel whispered.

"Your welcome." The woman’s accent was the same as the man’s. She was a beautiful woman with short, whitish-blonde hair and eyes the color of cornflowers.

"Where am I?"

"Lolland."

"Wh…"

"Denmark," he smiled. 'He has a kind smile,' thought Mel.

"Lolland is a Danish island in the Baltic. My name is Dr. Niels Bruhn and this is my sanitarium."

Mel looked stunned.

"I know it’s hard to believe. I saw you in the sea while I was smoking a cigarette on the deck of our ship and we brought you aboard. It was a miracle really. You were feverish and dehydrated. By the time we reached Rome you had improved a little but we thought it would be best if you accompanied us back here to the sanitarium."

Mel was flabbergasted. She was on the other side of Europe and very far from Lisbon, where she knew Janice was probably waiting for her.

"There were other people in the water," she stated.

"We didn’t see anyone else. We guess you were in the water 4 or 5 days."

"I need to get to Lisbon." Only now did Mel grasp the severity of her problem. Janice must think she had drowned and she couldn’t let Janice suffer like that.

"We will get you there, but you need at least a week to recover."

"A week! No, I can’t wait that long." Mel instinctively tried to get up. The nurse gently put her hands on Mel’s shoulders.

"Please lie down Miss Pappas."

"You know my name?"

"We found your identification," Dr. Bruhn pointed to his left shoulder. "Very clever. That is why we brought you here. We saw that you had money and papers and we knew we could get you to England. You must remember Miss Pappas that Denmark is under German rule. Hitler invaded us in April 1940 and although we have been able to keep our government and daily life relatively stable, we must be careful. You are technically the enemy. But don’t worry, we have many connections in England. We will get you there soon and then you can go to Lisbon."

Mel studied Dr. Bruhn and the nurse. She realized she was very lucky to have been rescued at all, let alone by these humanitarians.

"What were you doing in the Mediterranean?" Mel asked.

"We’ve been working for the Danish Red Cross, and we were coming back after six months in Turkey," said the nurse. The woman reminded Mel of an angel she had seen once seen hanging from a department store Christmas Tree. She had the same serene face.

"You said we were in Italy. How did you get me past the fascists?"

"We didn’t stop for long, only to get on our plane home. We hid you in our truck under some supplies. That’s why I had to render you unconscious." Mel now remembered the needle going into her arm and blacking out again.

Mel took a deep breath. "Thank you, I owe you my life. I have money, I can…"

"Please, no Miss Pappas," said Dr. Bruhn. "There is no need for money. Just get well. You’ll need all you have to get to England. Now, I’d like you to rest. When you wake up we’ll get you some dinner." He smiled, patted her foot through the blanket and left. Mel watched him go and then turned her attention to the nurse.

"I’m sorry, I don’t know your name."

"Matilda."

"Matilda, that’s pretty. My name’s Melinda, but please call me Mel." Mel smiled for the first time and Matilda was struck by how beautiful the dark-haired woman really was.

"All right, Mel. Now please do as Dr. Bruhn says and rest." She also turned and left the room.

Mel felt safe. How long had it been since she felt safe? Before this whole mess started, before Janice had left their tent to play poker. It felt like a lifetime ago, but it was actually only a few weeks.

Janice.

‘Where are you Janice? God I wish you were here. Please don’t worry love. I’m safe and sound. Are you?’

Mel didn’t wake that night but slept through until the next morning. When she awoke she noticed the photo of Janice and herself that she had packed away had been put into a small silver frame and placed on the bedside table. There was a single purple wildflower laying at the base of the frame. She felt like a piece of her soul had been restored, and exposed. Somebody understood that Janice was someone special. She reached for the photo and brought it into bed with her.

Matilda walked into the room with a breakfast tray.

"Good morning Mel." She smiled and put the tray on the nightstand and Mel saw she had already noticed the missing photo.

"Thank you Matilda, that was very sweet." Mel lifted her hand from under the covers and showed her the photo.

"Ja, well I thought you might like to have it close by. She is your friend?"

"Yes, my best friend, Janice Covington. That’s why I have to get to Lisbon. She’s waiting for me there."

"She looks like a strong woman. What does she do?"

"She’s…we…are archaeologists. She’s the best there is."

"Please have your breakfast. We have eggs and sausage. I didn’t give you any herring. I’ve heard Americans don’t like fish for breakfast."

"You’re right." Mel took the tray and dug in. She was famished.

"She’s also your teacher I think? You don’t have an occupation on your passport. Is that why you left America, to go learn from her?"

"Please sit down Matilda." Matilda sat on the foot of Mel’s bed.

"Yes, she’s my teacher, in so many ways." Mel slowed down her chewing and swallowed. She wasn’t strong enough to speak, out loud, all the ways in which Janice touched her and taught her about life. She smiled at Matilda hoping she wouldn’t ask her to explain.

Matilda could see Mel was a little upset. She could also see Mel was in love.

"Mel, if you feel stronger this afternoon I should take you out for a walk. You need some fresh sea air, and we need to get your legs moving."

"I’d like that Matilda."

Over the next few days Mel fell into a pattern of Dr. Bruhn checking in on her and Matilda taking her for a morning and late afternoon walk to the sea shore. Lolland was a flat island with a rocky coastline and extensive beet fields. The fields were lovely and the large boulders that stuck out of the water made her think of tears. It was late August 1942 and already the northern sky possessed the flat, gray light of autumn. There was a nip in the air and Mel took to wearing a large nordic sweater for her afternoon strolls.

Matilda insisted Mel hold onto her arm, and Mel didn’t mind. She needed the human contact. She had found a friend in Matilda, who asked her about life in America and Janice, but never pried too deeply, as if she knew her questions could possibly wound a fragile heart.

Mel found out that Matilda wasn’t married, and had grown up on the island alongside Dr. Bruhn. They had been childhood friends, and Mel wondered if they were involved, but she also didn’t want to pry.

"Mel, you are feeling much better, ja?"

"Yes, I am." Mel smiled at the nurse as they made their way back to the sanitarium.

"Would you like to come to my home for dinner? Dr. Bruhn has said it would be all right and you need to get out of the sanitarium. It's full of old people and TB cases, and I know it's depressing for you.

Mel was honored. Matilda did consider her a friend. "I would love to come. Thank you very much Matilda."

"Good. Tomorrow night then." The women walked on, sharing a comfortable silence.

Matilda lived only a mile or so from the sanitarium, and she walked to work everyday. Dr. Bruhn thought Mel should make the walk also, so the women made their way through the small village to a cottage near a fast-running stream. There was a large shed, larger than the cottage, in the backyard. Mel was utterly charmed. The outside of the building was painted mustard yellow and the roof was made of thatched straw. There were large rocks placed all around the cottage and dried birch leaves hung off the door.

Matilda entered first and shouted hello. There came a reply.

"Please, go and sit down. I’ll be right out."

Mel was surprised there was someone inside. She watched Matilda go into what was surely the kitchen. The cottage was cozy and in the main room was beautiful, hand-crafted teak furniture. The fireplace was already lit and the small dining room table was set for three.

Mel made her way to the couch, but before she could sit down she spied a photograph above the fireplace. It was Matilda kissing another woman on the cheek. It looked as if it was taken at Christmas as she could see the outline of a Christmas tree behind Matilda’s head. The other woman was also blonde, but her hair was longer and it was more yellow than white. They looked very happy.

"Mel."

Mel turned quickly and saw Matilda come into the main room holding hands with the woman from the photo, except now the woman was wearing an apron and her hair was pined up.

"This is Karen. She doesn’t speak English, so I’m sorry that I will have to translate everything we say."

"That’s all right. Hello Karen." Mel put her hand out. Karen smiled, showing large teeth and her grip was rock hard. She looked at Matilda, winked and then left for the kitchen.

"She is cooking us fish stew, her specialty. Please sit down."

Mel sat on the hard-backed couch feeling a little flush. She sensed these women were more than friends.

Matilda could see Mel was trying to figure out exactly what was going on and it made her smile.

"Mel, I wanted to bring you here to meet my wife Karen. I’m not sure, but I think Janice is like your wife, ja?"

Mel put her head down and blushed.

Matilda felt a little panicky. She must have misunderstood Mel’s feeling for Janice and had now embarrassed Mel. All she wanted to do was to show Mel it was all right to share her feelings with her, that she understood. She lifted Mel’s head.

"I’m sorry Mel. I didn’t mean to shock you."

"No, it’s not that…I…this is all so new to me."

"Please explain Mel." Matilda had been so very curious as to Mel and Janice's relationship but there was a wall that Mel put up each time Janice’s name was mentioned. She didn’t want to push against it, but now it seemed Mel needed to talk.

"I do love Janice, and Janice loves me, but we only told each other for the first time just as the ship was sinking." Mel laughed. "God, that sounds so melodramatic, but it’s true. I don’t know the first thing about loving a woman, but I know I love Janice with all my heart. She’s my world, and I miss her so. I hope she’s all right," and with those words Mel started to cry.

She cried out of fear and out of love. She cried because in a few, brief minutes she saw before her the kind of life she could one day share with

Janice. Some of those tears were tears of relief.

Matilda moved in and hugged Mel, soothing her, stroking her head and saying soft words in Danish. Karen came out to see what was going on and then quietly retreated back into the kitchen.

After a few minutes Mel stopped crying and lifted her head from Matilda’s shoulder.

"Thank you Matilda. Thank you for bringing me into your home and showing me what I needed to see."

Matilda took Mel’s hand. "Mel, I want you to tell me all about Janice."

Mel smiled. "Oh, Matilda, she’s the most amazing person I’ve ever met…"

Over dinner and into dessert Mel told her Danish friends about her adventures with Janice, including the search for the Xena Scrolls. She left out the part about Xena taking over her body. She was fuzzy about that anyway. She didn’t exactly remember what happened, but she had some foggy pictures and her body felt the aches and pains the next day.

The two women were stunned. Mel and Janice had lived a lifetime in less than six months. Karen was particularly impressed. She asked many questions that Matilda translated.

Mel learned that Karen was a furniture maker and that all the furniture in the cottage was designed and hand-crafted by her. That was her workshop out back and Mel decided that after the war was over she’d return here and buy roomfuls of the fine, delicate tables and chairs.

Karen got up and went to a cabinet and retrieved three tiny glasses and a bottle full of red liquid. Matilda smiled. "Karen also makes red current liqueur. Hers is the best on the island." Karen put the glasses and bottle down and Matilda took Karen’s small, rough hands and kissed her palms.

Mel had been studying them all night and could feel the electric charge running between them. They loved each other deeply, wholly, and they made a point of touching each other frequently. Every time they did, Mel could feel a charge zap her stomach and it made her realize how often she had touched Janice and felt the same way.

Karen saw Mel look at them. She spoke to Matilda in Danish and Matilda nodded her head no, but Karen spoke again. Matilda said something back and still nodded her head no.

"What’s she saying Matilda?"

Matilda looked beseechingly at Karen. Karen nodded her head yes.

"Well," Matilda looked embarrassed. "Karen wants to know if you and Janice have been with each other."

Mel now blushed. "No," she said looking at Karen.

Karen nodded her head in understanding and spoke again to Matilda.

Matilda translated. "Karen says you should ask us anything you want to know, about that, and that you shouldn’t be embarrassed, after all I am a nurse."

Mel had to laugh. "Thank you Karen." Karen poured them all a drink. They toasted to the end of the war and Mel felt the warm, sticky substance coat her throat.

"It’s wonderful Karen." Karen smiled and filled up their glasses a second time.

Mel sat there considering their offer. She had sooo many questions, and these women weren’t about to judge her. Mel downed the second drink and made up her mind.

"Actually, there are few things I’d like to know." Karen looked at Matilda and winked. She filled up Mel’s glass again. The rest of the evening was going to be very interesting.

Four hours later, Matilda and Karen finished answering Mel’s questions. As it was so late they suggested Mel stay the night in the guest bed in the workshop. Mel said goodnight to her hosts and as she lay in the small bed tucked into the corner she went over everything she had learned and it made her head spin and her heart race.

It sounded so difficult and intimidating, but Mel remembered what Matilda kept repeating over and over again: "Your body will tell you what to do Mel. If you love her, your body will tell you what feels right for her and you."

Mel tossed and turned. She couldn’t wait to get to Lisbon. But first she had to get out of Denmark quietly. The day after tomorrow she was going to get on a fishing trawler and make her way to Scotland. There she would be met by Danish refugees who would send her on her way to London.

‘Soon Janice. I’ll be with you soon my love.’

CHAPTER 14

Janice released her seat belt and got comfortable. It would take a few hours to fly from Malta to London and Bishop and Bertinelli wanted to go over the plan once again.

The trio had set up a small card table in the bomber’s midsection and laid out their papers.

Janice was wearing dark wool navy pants that had been altered to fit her and her well-worn leather jacket. She had spent the last week preparing for her mission.

She had a physical check-up and had tests done measuring her eyesight and strength. Her old revolver was replaced by a lighter, more modern weapon that she could hide in her waistband. She spent time on the shooting range and Bishop and Bertinelli were impressed by her crack aim. She memorized codes, learned to work a small transistor radio and memorized street maps of London and Berlin. She even practiced some knife-throwing. She hated that the most, the thought of having to cut or throw a knife at a person made her queasy.

She didn’t mind the work, in fact she craved it, anything to keep her mind off Mel. She longed to go to bed exhausted so she’d fall asleep quickly and not dwell on the image that had burned into the front of her brain - Mel floating alone in the water quietly calling her name. Some nights she broke the promise she made on the lifeboat and cried herself to sleep.

But now, aboard the bomber, she was ready as she’d ever be.

"Are you sure Roebuck will see me? He’s a well-respected scholar," asked Janice.

"We’re sure," grimaced Bertinelli. "No Nazi spy would pass up the opportunity to talk to you Janice."

"He’s right," smiled Bishop. "You’re a sure fire thing. Your father was a failed archaeologist who sold out; you’ve been a maverick for years with an ambitious reputation. They’ll surely check on what happened in Turkey and find out you really did kill a man and are wanted. You’ve lost everything in a shipwreck, your rich friend is missing,"

Janice flinched slightly but Bishop didn’t notice.

"You’re broke and you’ve run out of options. You need money to find the Xena Scrolls and working for the Nazis is the only way you’ll get it.

"Jesus, Bishop." Bertinelli scowled.

"What? Did I say anything that wasn’t true?"

"No you didn’t," said Janice very quietly. She suddenly saw her life through his eyes and realized her life was a complete travesty. Everything about her was a miserable failure, everything except Mel. How could Mel fall in love with someone like her? She shook her head and tried to clear her thoughts. She couldn’t afford to lose herself in self-pity. She’d complete this goddamn job and get to Lisbon.

"The most important thing is to get Dr. Roebuck to believe you got his name from Smythe," said Bertinelli. "The Nazis must know you were with Smythe when he died, and since he’s dead there’s no way they can check on your story. You tell Roebuck that Smythe told you about the treasure. You don’t know which treasure it is, but you know it’s important, and if they want to find it they’ll need you. And it’s true Janice, you’re good."

Janice realized more and more that behind his deadly, serious manner, Bertinelli was a kind man who tried to make Janice feel comfortable.

Bishop chimed in. "Roebuck will take you to Berlin and there you’ll find the artifact and get out. The escape plan is set, Bertinelli and I will debrief you before you leave. For now, the less you know about that the better."

Janice caught his meaning. This was a dangerous job and if she were to be found out she surely be tortured and they couldn’t afford to let the Nazis know their plan.

"So, to contact you I pretend to make a call in the phone box at the corner of James and Wilcox?"

"Right," said Bertinelli. "Stand there for a minute, make it look like you forget your change and then go to the Trades Pub and sit on the last bar stool by the washroom. You ask the barkeeper for change, but really ask what you need, he’ll return in a minute with an answer and change. He’ll also tell you the next rendezvous point if you need it."

"Got it."

Janice sat silently for a few minutes. "Any news about Mel?" She asked this question everyday, and although she knew they would have told if there was any news, she couldn’t help herself. She was compelled and she didn’t care.

Bishop looked a little chagrined. "Nothing. We’ll have a better chance at locating her when we get to London and get all our resources behind it.

Janice nodded and returned to studying a map of Berlin.

CHAPTER 15

Mel stepped onto the Scottish shore at dawn. She had made it to Scotland without a problem.

It wasn’t easy saying goodbye to Matilda, Karen or Dr. Bruhn and she promised after the war she’d come back and visit. Karen had given her a beautiful blue sweater that matched to color of her eyes. Mel put it on right away and it fit her snugly. Karen raised an eyebrow and Mel laughed and hugged her goodbye.

Mel’s eyes watered just a bit when Matilda came up to hug her goodbye. As she wrapped her arms around the Danish nurse she heard her whisper in her ear. "Trust yourself and it will all work out. Everything you feel is right. Good luck and come back soon."

Mel removed herself from the hug and kissed Matilda on the cheek. She left a deep red lipstick kiss on Matilda’s smooth cheek. "Thank you my friend."

They had arranged to take Mel to the trawler at midnight and set off around Denmark. It took longer than going to the mainland, cutting across the country and then the North Sea, but Bruhn and his friends had helped others escape using the same route.

Mel paid the fisherman 500 American dollars. They were surprised, and grateful, they could afford to get more people to safety with the money.

The trip was uneventful, with Mel staying in the captain’s quarters. She tried not to think of Janice but of course it was useless. She figured Janice’s lifeboat was picked up either by the British or Americans who patrolled the Mediterranean.

The worse case scenario was that an Italian boat picked them up and she was in Italy, a prisoner of the fascists. But she was sure she could bribe Janice out of prison. The Italians were suffering under Mussolini, and they’d grab the money Mel would throw at them. She never let herself think about the possibility the boat hadn’t been found. It was too unlikely and too horrific to consider.

Mel’s musings came to an abrupt end when one of the fisherman gestured her to follow him to a boathouse. It was dark and smelled of rancid fish and rotting nets. The fisherman nodded his head to go inside. It was dark, and she sensed she wasn’t alone. Suddenly a small flame flickered in the corner, it was a match.

A man in his 50s stepped out of the corner smoking a pipe. He had a salt and pepper beard, wide shoulders and was two inches shorter than Mel. His name was Adam Bruhn, Dr. Bruhn’s older cousin. It was his job to take her to London.

"Welcome to Scotland Melinda." He held out his hand. She shook it and smiled. "Glad to be here Adam." She liked his lack of formality, she reminded him of an American, but he was in fact one of Denmark’s most respected artists.

"How is my cousin?"

"Fine. He sends his best. I want to thank you Adam…"

"Nonsense Melinda. Since this war started I haven’t been able to paint, I need something to occupy my time."

Mel noticed his cocky smile hid a deep sadness.

"And," he continued. "You have money that will help us all. Come, we should leave. I have a car outside. Here are your papers."

Mel looked at the fake marriage license. Dr. Bruhn had told her they’d be traveling as a married couple, it would safer and easier for Mel and it would help keep Adam's cover. They were tell people they had met before the war when Adam lived and painted in New York. However, they had been separated when the hostilities broke out and had only now been reunited in England.

They got into the car, headed south and settled into an easy conversation. Since Adam had lived in the States the pair had a lot to chat about, but the rolling moors and the early morning light made Mel sleepy and she nodded off. Adam looked over at her snuggled against the door and wished everyone he helped was so beautiful.

Janice tossed her rucksack over her shoulder and turned to look at Bishop and Bertinelli.

"Wish me luck."

Bishop grinned and Bertinelli spoke up. "I’m told the flat is a little damp. You’re suppose to give the radiator a good smack and it should warm up."

Janice laughed. "Thanks. Figures you guys are too cheap to put me up in a nice place."

"You’re broke, remember," said Bishop. "You know Roebuck will be at the museum tomorrow afternoon. Good luck." He held out his hand. She took it and then took Bertinelli’s.

"I’ll be checking in about Mel. Don’t let me down boys."

She left the RAF base and got into the car that would drop her off in the rundown part of South Central London. Her mission had begun.

Adam and Mel stopped in Glasgow for the night. Mel demanded they stay someplace that had a phone. She had to call Sumner.

Sumner was her banker and financial advisor. Sumner’s father had advised her father and she had known the man since they were children. She liked him, but they never spent much time together, Mel was a bookworm, Sumner a flashy roustabout. But there was an unspoken bond between the two of them - Sumner realized his future was tied to the Pappas fortune and Mel realized her wealth was tied to Sumner’s sage advice.

He was furious when she left Charleston to join Janice, but Mel agreed to call him once a week, if possible, to check in with him. She usually managed, except it had been almost three weeks since her last call and she knew Sumner would be out of his mind with worry and anger.

But she needed him to help trace Janice’s whereabouts. She wanted him to contact her father’s powerful friends in Washington, who could push through the search. But there was no way she could tell him anything that had happened to her because he’d get on a plane and drag her back, and damn him, that wasn’t going to happen.

Adam checked them into the Burns Hotel and Mel asked to use the manager’s phone. She sat at his desk and took a deep breath. She prayed Sumner hadn’t found out about the murder and Janice’s fugitive status. That would be bad.

She dialed the operator and after a few minutes finally got through to Sumner’s office. He was on the phone in an instant. "Where in good god damn are you Mel?" he screamed.

He was angry.

"I’m in Scotland, Sumner, but on my way to London."

"Are you all right? You haven’t called in weeks and I was just about to call the Turkish government looking for the pair of you."

Mel knew when he used the term ‘the pair of you,’ he was furious.

"I’m fine, Sumner."

"Are you coming home?" he asked hopefully.

"I can’t Sumner. Janice is missing."

"What?"

"She was on a Turkish ship that was torpedoed, that’s why I need your help. You have to call daddy’s friends in Washington, there’s a general something and an admiral somebody. Check in his black book for their names. She was probably picked up by a US or British ship around August 20th."

"Why weren’t you with her?"

"I flew here," she lied. "And I need more money, send $5,000"

"$5,000!" he shouted.

Mel lost her temper. "Yes, $5,000 god damn it!! When have I ever, ever asked lightly for money Sumner? Huh?" There was no sound on the other side of the line.

"Damn you, there’s a war going on here, and I need money to get to Janice and help others. There are people suffering here, so you get off your ass Sumner and you find Janice. I’ll call you from The Biltmore Hotel in London. Do you have any questions?"

"No Mel," he had never heard the woman lose her temper in all the years he had known her. "I’ll get right on it."

"Good." She slammed the phone down and realized her hand was shaking.

CHAPTER 16

Janice looked up the steps of the British Museum. She rolled her neck and pulled down on her jacket. ‘Here goes,’ she thought.

She made her way to the antiquities department and slipped through the solid oak door. An aged secretary looked shocked.

"Yes?"

"I’m here to see Dr. Roebuck." She tried her best to sound confident.

"I’m sorry, museum visitors aren’t allowed to see the staff." She looked back down at her desk.

"I know that, but you can tell him it’s Dr. Covington, and I’m a good friend of the late Dr. Smythe. I’m sure he’d like to see me." She crossed her arms in front of her chest. The aged secretary sat for a stunned moment and only got up when she knew Janice wouldn’t leave. Janice let out a breath while she went into Roebuck’s office.

In less than 30 seconds Roebuck and the secretary stepped out of the office. A small-boned, slight man in his late 40s, Roebuck was one of Britain’s most eminent Greek scholars and, amazingly, a high level Nazi spy. He wasn’t a popular man in the field, like Janice he rubbed his peers the wrong way, but no one doubted his talent and dedication. However, at this moment, the little man looked very nervous.

"Dr. Covington, please come in."

Roebuck waited for her to pass into his office. He had heard of the woman, and had met her father twice. He didn’t like the father, an abomination to the field, and he was sure he wouldn’t like the daughter very much either since she was a rogue archaeologist, and if the rumors were true, a lesbian.

Roebuck shut the door behind him and pointed to a chair in front of his desk. Janice sat down and Roebuck took his seat behind his desk.

"We’ve never met, but I’ve heard of your work Dr. Covington."

"Same here."

"What can I help you with?"

"I think you know. Smythe let me in on a little secret Dr. Roebuck," she leaned forward. "It’s a really good secret," she smiled.

Roebuck swallowed. He didn’t want to say anything that would give him away.

"Would you like to know that secret Dr. Roebuck?"

No answer.

"Well, Smythe told me," she playfully looked over her shoulder, "that you’re a spy for the Germans and there’s a treasure that you and the Nazis are looking for, but are having some trouble finding."

He took off his small, round glasses, and rubbed his eyes. "Go on."

"It so happens that I’ve freed up some time, and I’d like to offer my help…for a price."

"You’re quite well informed Dr. Covington. That makes me suspicious."

"I can understand that, but check with your ‘Herr Boss’ and he’ll tell you I was with Smythe when he died, and now I’m in a little jam of my own. I’m no spy Roebuck, just a woman with some problems who needs some quick cash. I’m guessing I’ll be a bargain for you, especially if what I suspect is true."

"What’s that?"

"That what you’re looking for is the Sumerian Treasure."

Roebuck’s eyes widened.

"I’ll find it for you Roebuck." She stood up and reached inside her jacket and took out a slip of paper. A long line of Sumerian text was translated into English. "I’ll find it for you."

Roebuck looked impressed, she knew the language and it’s odd symbols.

"I’ll be back in a few days for your answer. Oh, and tell them I want $25,000 American dollars." She left the room.

"Damn," was all he said.

Janice brushed by the secretary’s desk and walked back into the museum. She leaned against the wall and banged her head against the wall. "Gotcha."

Mel looked out of her suite in the Biltmore Hotel. London’s skyline was a mess. The city had undergone heavy bombing between September 1940 and July 1941, and although the bombings had decreased, she shuddered at the damage.

She was waiting for Sumner’s call. There was no reason to rush off to Lisbon if Janice was somewhere else, and Mel had a feeling, a totally inexplicable feeling, that Janice wasn’t even close to Lisbon.

She was alone in the room as Adam had checked them into the hotel, but he stayed somewhere else, somewhere she wasn’t privy too. He came by to go out to dinner but then left, he obviously had other people to help, and Mel felt the weight of her loneliness. Then the phone rang.

She sat on the edge of the bed and picked up the receiver.

"Hello Mel?"

"Hello Sumner. Where is she?"

"Slow down Mel," this wasn’t going to be easy, he thought. "This is a little complicated."

Mel’s heart rate increased.

"I called Admiral Greenspoon, from your daddy’s book. He said he’d look into it and he called this morning. No US or British ship picked up lifeboat survivors in the Mediterranean." He heard Mel’s quiet gasp.

"Mel?"

"I’m here."

"But I also called General White. He phoned this morning and told me he got a hold of the original navy report and they did pick up Turkish survivors in the Mediterranean on August 20th."

"Was Janice one of them?"

"No, her name wasn’t on the list."

"What, that’s impossible, I put her…" Mel stopped before she finished.

"You put her…?"

"I put her on that Turkish boat myself, before I flew out," lied Mel. "Sumner, she was on that boat."

"That doesn’t mean she got on a lifeboat Mel."

"I can’t explain it, but I know she was on a lifeboat. Why would they lie, the navy I mean?"

"I don’t know Mel."

Mel was impatient. "I’m asking what you think Sumner. Please, what do you think?"

Sumner let out a breath. "I think…I think the navy doesn’t want us to find Janice. You should know I made some more calls Mel, and all of sudden no one wants to talk to me. We’re making them nervous."

Mel was confused and angry. "This doesn’t make any sense! Damn!"

Sumner heard the pain in Mel’s voice and only now did he realize how much Janice meant to her.

"Now don’t give up. I think we should get some help."

"Who can help us?"

"If we throw enough cash around we’ll get some answers."

"Then you throw around as much as you have to Sumner. I mean it."

"Don’t worry Mel, I will."

Mel could feel his spirit across the line. She had won him over and she knew he understood what this meant to her.

"Thank you," she said softly. "Please find her for me."

Sumner was suddenly moved. "I will. I’ll call you when I hear something. Goodnight Mel."

He hung up and Mel sat slumped on the bed. She held the receiver for a few minutes, unable to hang up the phone.

Across the city, Janice sat in a dark room with a bottle of gin. She drank as a way to relieve the pressure. For all her confidence and bravado Janice didn’t work well under pressure, and it was actually Mel who thrived, after all it was Mel who got her on that lifeboat without falling apart.

She drank because it was the only way to block out her growing despair. She now realized that if Mel was dead this was her future. She didn’t have the guts to kill herself, but she’d start to drink and sometime, on some dig, she’d drunkenly slip over a cliff or drive her truck into a rock face. That's how she’d end the pain, as a numb coward.

CHAPTER 17

Janice awoke with a slight hangover. Her dark mood from the night before dissipated at the light of day and she vowed not to let herself slip so low again. She had few days to kill until hearing back from Roebuck and decided to take a long walk around the city.

Mel awoke from her troubled sleep. She dreamt Janice had fallen into a pit and the hole was crumbling, covering her with dark earth, but Mel was frozen in place and couldn’t move to pull her out. She tried to scream, but her voice was gone.

Mel rubbed her forehead trying to clear her thoughts. These dreams of Janice had become nightly visitors and she wished she could stop them, as they left her emotionally spent. She went to take a warm bath and since it was the middle of the night back home and Sumner wouldn’t be calling until later she decided to get out of the hotel and visit the museum, the British Museum.

Janice made her way through the city, crossing the Thames River and entering the tonier sections of London. She had never spent any time in the city, and now she wished she had seen it before the bombings. She slowed down and stared at a four story building behind an ornate wrought iron fence. It was The Biltmore Hotel. She stopped. What was she had heard about it…there was something…she felt compelled to go inside.

She mounted the five steps and moved through the revolving door. Her stomach tensed, it wasn’t painful, more like the feeling she got when she uncovered a find on a dig, or, like when Mel bent over her shoulder to borrow a digging spade and her dark hair trailed over her shoulder, touching her cheek. She swallowed as she felt a tingle move down her legs.

Mel put on her forest green suit, brown hat and brown gloves. She felt light-headed, but thought is was because she hadn’t gotten any fresh air in the passed 24 hours. On the elevator down, she felt her stomach tighten.

Janice looked around the lobby, it was small and quaint, with a colonial feel - Indian elephant sculptures, bamboo touches and large fern plants. Why was she here? Her stomach turned again, and Janice needed to sit down. Bellboys and guest moved past her with grace, and she felt a little out of place. She spotted a large leather chair in the corner, its back faced the lobby and was partially hidden by a large fern. She sat down.

Mel stepped out of the elevator and the lining of her stomach pulled together. It wasn’t painful, but intense, like the feeling she got when Janice held her that night after the attack. A warm feeling moved down her legs, making them rubbery. She clutched her stomach and leaned against the wall.

Janice’s insides tightened some more. She bent over and breathed out. Mel looked around the lobby and all she saw were large ferns, furniture and a few guests, who stared at her. She fought this intense/pleasant feeling, eventually straightening up and passing through the revolving door. As she left the building the feeling lessened in power. She took in some fresh air, made her way down the stairs and turned right on the sidewalk.

Janice felt the air come back into her lungs and her stomach relax. She looked back over her shoulder and into the lobby, half expecting to see… something. But there was nothing. She got up and made her way through the revolving door and turned left on the sidewalk to continue her walk, stopping to have some breakfast.

Meanwhile, in a secret London headquarters, Bishop sat behind a desk and read the morning paper. Suddenly, Bertinelli raced through the door, holding a telegram.

"She’s alive!" Bishop had never seen Bertinelli so enthusiastic.

"Who?"

"Melinda Pappas. Here, this came in yesterday from Washington," he waved the telegram in Bishop’s face. "Pappas’ lawyer is looking for Janice on behalf of Melinda, who’s here in London! He contacted some heavy brass in Washington. They of course denied everything, but we can still tell Janice that Melinda is alive. We’ll just say she was spotted in Lisbon, to ease her mind, then tell her the truth when the mission is over."

"Are you crazy Bert? We can’t do that."

"What are you taking about Bishop, of course we can."

Bishop tore the telegram from Bertinelli hands. "Look at these names Bert."

Bertinelli looked down at the piece of paper. "These are top level commanders. We can’t get involved. I’m not interfering with their plans. And although I’m glad Pappas is alive, I think telling Covington will hurt the mission. She’ll lose her desperation, she’ll have nothing to gain by doing this for us. She can walk out anytime and go to her friend. We might as well pull the plug now."

"No, Bish, all it means is that she’ll make sure to succeed. Didn’t you see the glint in her eyes? I’m not sure she’s planning on coming back alive from this job. If we tell her Melinda is alive, then she's got something to live for and we’ve just sealed our success."

"No Bert, we don’t tell her. I’m not going to let her, or you, screw this up. Take it up with Karney and ask him, he’ll make the final decision, but he’ll agree with me."

Bertinelli scowled. He knew the cold-hearted Karney would agree with Bishop. He crumpled the paper and tossed it on the floor. At this moment he hated his job and himself.

Mel felt much better by the time she reached the museum. This was her Mecca, one of the places she had dreamt about visiting as a child, and she fondly remembered her daddy, who was large, husky man, wrapping her arms around her when she still very little and telling her about the mummies and obelisks that were found inside. She wished Janice was beside her to share this special moment in her life. It was another first she wanted the smaller woman to be part of.

She made her way to the antiquities department and looked around in awe. There was so much crammed into the space. She felt like a kid in a candy store. She spent three hours in the rooms, moving between objects and she actually forgot about Janice for a brief time.

On her way out she noticed a small man opening a case and carefully taking out a tablet. He was slight, in his late 40s and wore round glasses. She peered over his shoulder.

"Sumerian, I believe," said Mel.

Roebuck looked up startled. He was looking at a shapely, beautiful, dark-haired woman with a deep, husky voice.

"Pardon?"

"I said, I believe that’s a Sumerian text."

His eyes widened. She was an American, from the southern part of the country. "Yes, it is. How do you know that?"

"Oh, it’s just a hobby. I believe it says something, like ‘The father and his two sons…paid the…stonecutter…’ Well, it gets confusing. I think it’s a legal record, a contract."

"Are you are scholar?"

"No, like I said, it’s just a hobby." She smiled and Roebuck almost fainted. He was about to get up when his aged secretary ran down the hall wailing.

"Dr. Roebuck? Dr. Roebuck, you have a telephone call, it’s urgent, it’s Dr. Bergman."

Mel smiled at the sight of a 80 year-old woman bounding down the hall yelling the scholar’s name.

Roebuck put away the tablet and nodded at his secretary. Bergman was his Nazi contact and he knew they had made a quick decision regarding Covington’s offer. He had to take the call. He turned to speak to the beautiful woman, but she was gone.

Janice lay on her bed, but this time there was no gin bottle. She wouldn’t let her dark side win tonight. She looked at her watch, it was 8 P.M. She dreaded the next few hours until sleep took her. Suddenly, there was a knock at her door. She reached under her pillow and grabbed her gun. She put out her cigar and made her way to the door.

"Who is it?"

"Dr. Roebuck."

Janice was confused. He knew where she lived! That meant he knew a lot more than he should. She could be surrounded by Nazi spies at this very moment. She pulled the knife out of her boot and held it with her other hand. She used her foot to unlatch the door and stepped back.

"Come in."

Roebuck entered the dark, dinghy room. In front of him stood Covington holding a gun and a knife.

"Oh please Dr. Covington. You can see I’ve come alone. Do you really think I’d bring a commando team."

"Can’t be too careful Dr. Roebuck." Her voice sounded normal, but she could feel her heart pounding in her ears.

He looked around the room with a disgusted face. "Squalid."

"Poverty."

"Yes, well. I’m here to make you an offer. May I sit down?"

There was only one chair in the room and Roebuck sat down while Janice moved to the bed still holding her weapons.

"My friends agree to your terms. Your problems in Turkey and on the ship have been verified and they believe you are desperate enough to come to them, and, they think you can help. The scholar we have working on the project is stymied and they are, to be honest, desperate."

Roebuck didn’t want the woman involved in his life, he didn’t trust her, but the Germans were hitting a brick wall when it came to deciphering the key shaped object that they believed would lead them to the Sumerian Treasure.

"Meet me tomorrow at Victoria Station at 1 P.M. Do not be late."

"Where are we going?" asked Janice.

"You’ll see soon enough. Pack light, but I believe that isn’t a problem for you." He got up. "Goodnight Dr. Covington."

He turned to leave. Janice waited for the door to close before she latched it shut. She had to make contact with Bertinelli and Bishop. She knew she was probably being watched. She waited an hour before making her way down to the Traders Pub. She bypassed protocol and went straight to the pub to pass on the information.

CHAPTER 18

Mel awoke from another one of her dreams. This time Janice was back in the lifeboat and as it was pulling away Mel watched as Janice was violently lifted into the air and consumed by a thick fog. Mel screamed but Janice was gone. Mel held her head and wiped away the tears. And last night, Sumner’s call was devastating. No news. No one was talking. She was feeling frayed and tired.

She had her bath and when she returned Adam was in her suite, looking out the window.

"Adam! You scared me half to death," said Mel in her bathrobe.

He smiled. "Sorry my dear." She looked completely ravishing in the peach silk robe. "I’m here to take you out for a late breakfast and then you are going to drop me off at the train station."

"Where are you off to," said Mel as she combed out her air.

"Can’t say. Someone else needs my help, and I’m not sure how long I’ll be away, so I wanted to spend some time with you. I know it’s hard," his voice softened. "She’ll be all right Melinda. I have a feeling about these things."

Mel put down her brush and fought back tears. "I hope you’re right."

"I am. I’ll meet you in the lobby."

Janice arrived at the station at 1 P.M. She felt safe, as she didn’t think she was followed last night, and even if she were they wouldn’t think she was doing anything wrong except having a drink at a local pub. She passed on the message and heard back from the bartender that there was no news about Mel. She didn’t expect any.

After a few minutes she saw Roebuck come down the stairs. He was carrying a suitcase. "Good, you’re here. To platform 7."

"Where are we going?" snarled Janice through a smile. She hated the way he sometimes shortened his sentences to haughty remarks.

"Ipswich. It leaves at 1:15." He walked away and Janice followed.

Mel got out of the cab with Adam. Victoria Station was beautiful, and busy. Mel waited as Adam gathered his bags. They moved through the terminal and out onto Platform 6.

Janice made herself comfortable in their compartment. She loaded her case over Roebucks head. He looked into her flat stomach and imagined she was quite a sturdy little thing. His mind slipped into thoughts of what she must do with other women and sneered. He reached into his pocket for a cigarette.

Janice felt Roebuck’s eyes on her body and she quietly snorted. He hated her, but like all men, she thought, he couldn’t help but undress her mentally. He was an idiot as far as Janice was concerned.

"What time does your train leave?" asked Mel looking at her watch, which showed 1:14 P.M.

"1:30," said Adam. "Melinda, if you need anything use the number I gave you and ask for Stellan. I’ll contact you when I get back. If you’re gone by the time I return, then I want you to know I’ve enjoyed your company and I wish you the best. Come see me in Denmark when the war’s over."

She smiled at his kind face and gave him a hug.

Janice forgot her reading, a silly magazine she picked up at the newsstand. She went to retrieve it from her bag and happen to look out the window. She stopped moving. It was Mel! Mel was standing there hugging a man. It was Mel!

Mel looked over her shoulder at the train that had started to move. She tightened her hold on Adam, who suddenly had trouble breathing. "Janice," she whispered. There was Janice looking out of the window of the slow moving train.

She let go of Adam. "Janice!" she shouted.

Janice’s palms pressed against the glass. She was in shock. There stood Mel. She was alive and safe! She started to say her name, "Mmee…" but stopped. Roebuck was sitting two feet from her. She mouthed Mel’s name against the glass "Mel."

Mel ran alongside the train. "Janice. Janice I’m here. Janice!" Mel could see the anguish on Janice’s face and read her lips, "Mel."

"What’s so interesting Dr. Covington?" said Roebuck. Janice turned her head slightly but kept her eyes on Mel. She cleared her throat. "Nothing, a child fell and a crowd gathered." She turned her head and mouthed the words "Mel. Stay. London...I love you Mel. Stay."

Mel made out the words. She couldn’t help but shout. "I love you too." The train picked up speed and Janice once again left Mel behind. Suddenly her face contorted and she kissed the window as it moved out of the station.

Mel stopped running and saw the final look of pain on Janice’s face and the kiss. She breathed deeply. The pain in her stomach that she felt this morning was back. Suddenly, Adam was behind her.

"Adam," she turned. "Where does that train go?"

"I have no idea. What’s going on? How can Janice be on that train, here in London?"

"I…I don’t know. I’ve got to find out where that train goes!"

Mel ran back into the station and up to a ticket wicket. Adam was right behind her. "The train that just left, on platform," she had to think, "7, platform 7. Where does it go?" Mel was almost shouting. The young clerk looked surprised, no one got excited over a little run to Ipswich.

"Ipswich, ma’am," he said.

"Is there anyway I can get there before it arrives?"

"I think not, ma’am."

"Does it make any stops along the way?" She was getting desperate.

"Yes," he looked at his schedule. "One, it stops for the mail at Chelmsford."

"Can I get to Chelmsford before the train arrives?" Her breathing was under control, but she looked like a woman possessed.

"No. There are no trains leaving for Chelmsford until later tonight."

"Damn," Mel slapped the counter. The clerk could see she really wanted to go to Chelmsford. "It’s not too far from here, ma’am, do you have a car?"

"No, I don’t…What about a taxi? Could I get a taxi to Chelmsford."

"Well, that’s…" before he could finish Mel was gone. She and Adam raced to the front of the station. She ran to the first available cab and peered into the passenger side window. A large, hairy man with a handlebar mustache looked up.

"Where to love?"

"Chelmsford."

"Chelmsford!…"

"Listen to me. I’ll give $100 American dollars if you can get me to Chelmsford before the train that just left. Can you do it?"

The driver laughed. "It’ll be tight, but get in love." The driver loved a challenge.

Mel turned to Adam. "Adam, I know you need to leave, but I need a favor."

He nodded.

"Go back to the hotel and check me out. Take my things somewhere safe. Leave the address at the hotel, I’ll pick them up when I get back. There’s more money in the safe, take some for yourself. I can’t explain, but I have to get to Janice."

"Yes, Melinda. I can catch a later train. How much money do you have with you?"

"Enough. Goodbye Adam," she kissed him the cheek. "Thank you." She got into the taxi.

"Hang on, love," the driver slammed his foot on the gas.

Adam watched her drive out of his life.

CHAPTER 19

Janice slowly removed her palms off the window, where they left sweaty prints on the glass. She swallowed and cleared her throat.

"Dr. Covington, would you please sit down, you’re making me nervous."

‘Shut the hell up,’ her brain screamed, but she controlled herself.

"Excuse me while I go to the washroom."

Roebuck just stared at her and pulled on his cigarette. He couldn’t care less what she did.

Janice staggered slightly out of the compartment and around the corner to the small washroom. She leaned into the room, and locked the door behind her. She gripped the edge of the basin and fell to her knees.

‘She’s alive! Thank god she’s alive! I’ve forgotten just how beautiful she really is. How could that be, in just a few weeks? I’ve forgotten the sensuous lips, the shape of her face and those eyes. My memory can never do justice to those eyes. Jesus, whatamIgonnado, whatamIgonnado?’

Janice’s mind raced. She was overcome. Mel was alive, and if she understood what Janice said, she’d stay in London. Janice had to make a decision. When she reached Ipswich she could try and ditch Roebuck and make her way to Mel and they could get out of England.

They could go to Lisbon, hell, they could go home. That was a thought! The two of them going home to the States. She realized she had never considered that in all the time they had spent together. It was such an improbability, and she never let herself fantasize about anything greater that stealing an extra glance or touch. A future together was out of her fantasizing league.

But it was too dangerous! If they were caught by the Nazis then Mel would be killed right alongside her. She couldn’t afford to put Mel in danger. She should complete the mission and keep Mel safe.

But why didn’t Bishop or Bertinelli know Mel was in London? They must have known. Did they want to protect her, or were they so callous they decided to keep it from her? Were they that cruel? And who was that man Mel was hugging? This was all so confusing.

God, what should she do? Her heart screamed for her to jump out of the window right this second and run back to London and find Mel, but her brain said to stay the course, finish the job, and keep Mel safe.

Mel gripped the strap that hung down from the backseat of the cab. The driver was racing out of the city’s center and heading East.

"Love, don’t mind me askin’, but what is it you got in Chelmsford’s that so important your making this dash?" asked the driver.

"I left a package on the train, I need to get it back. We’re going to make it to the station before the train, aren’t we?"

"We’ve got a chance. Chelmsford only 30 minutes away and the train circles London before hittin’ the open rails. We’ve got a direct route. If the traffic’s moving then we’ve got a go at it. The name’s Henry," He looked into the rear view mirror.

Mel looked into his eyes in the mirror. "Melinda. My name is Melinda." Henry noticed the color of the woman’s eyes and the panic hiding behind them. "Don’t you let go of the strap Melinda love. Don’t let go"

Mel held on tight. The words ‘She’s Alive’ kept going through her mind like a ticker tape. Mel was confused as to why the navy didn’t want her to know Janice was alive, and in London, and it made her nervous. Was Janice in some kind of trouble, and why was she off to Ipswich? Dover she could understand, or Liverpool, that would mean she would be catching a ship to Lisbon, but Ipswich?

Janice asked her to stay, but how could she! The woman she loved was only 30 minutes away. Janice would be angry, but Mel knew Janice would do exactly the same thing if their positions were reversed. God, she’d forgotten how lovely Janice was! How could she not have remembered the exact color of her hair, her strong, small hands.

The cab made a hard left and Mel shifted against the door.

"Hurry Henry, hurry."

Janice took her seat across from Roebuck who was reading an archaeological journal. Janice picked up her magazine and pretended to read, but actually she stared out the window, looking for an answer to her problem. Twenty minutes passed by and Janice was no closer to making a decision. The train started to slow.

"We’re slowing down," noted Janice

Roebuck looked up distractedly. "Yes, we make one stop before Ipswich." He went back to reading his journal.

Henry increased his speed. Up ahead he saw the railway crossing and he could hear the train approach. The striped wooden beam was beginning its descent across the road. Mel’s eyes were wide.

"Henry…"

"Oooii" he shouted and the taxi’s hood smacked against the railway crossing and snapped it in two. The car jumped over the tracks and Mel looked out her window to see the train barreling down on them. The car cleared the tracks and landed back on pavement. The train rushed on behind the cab.

"We’re almost there Melinda. Look to your left."

Mel looked out the other window. She could see the train station. Henry made a sharp left turn and raced up to the station and onto the sidewalk. The train had already made its way into the station. Mel had the money waiting in her hand.

"Here," she moved her arm over his shoulder and pressed the bills into his hand on the steering wheel. "You’re a prince," she shouted as she pushed herself out of the cab.

Henry looked down at the $100 American dollars and grinned. Today was his lucky day.

Mel raced into the small wooden station. There was no one at the only ticket wicket and since she knew this was a mail stop she didn’t even bother about a ticket. She just needed to get on the train. She walked outside onto the platform. At the far end, near the front of the train, a rotund fellow chatted with the conductor who had his head out the window of the train. A younger man loaded the bags of mail into a compartment behind the engine. They didn’t notice her.

She made her move. She jumped in-between two cars. The one on her right had a door. She pushed her way inside. She was in a second-class passenger compartment and there were only a few people in their seats. She brushed down her navy blue suit and adjusted her glasses. She confidently walked down the aisle, and to be honest, the few men and women on the train didn’t pay her much attention, assuming she sat at the far end of the train and they hadn’t noticed her on their way out of London.

Mel glanced at everyone, hoping one of them was Janice. She wasn’t here. Mel would just have to keep looking.

Janice felt the train move. Roebuck crossed his legs impatiently.

"I’m going for a drink," he said while standing. "Stay here Dr. Covington."

"What if I want a drink," she snarled.

"I must be honest with you Dr. Covington. I don’t like you, and I don’t trust you, so you must understand the last thing I want is to share your company over a gin and tonic. I don’t care what you do, but don’t follow me."

He turned and left.

Janice threw his journal at the closed door. He was everything she hated in British men, cold, snobbish and without a trace a humor. At least Martin Robbins understood emotions and loyalty.

God, she hadn’t thought about Martin since Turkey. She hoped he hadn’t suffered because of what she had done. There was someone else she had put in peril. Damn, she was angry, at herself, at everyone. Screw him. She’d get a drink.

She left her compartment.

Down the hall Mel saw a muttering Janice approach. She ducked into the first open door she saw. Janice walked towards the bar car. Suddenly, an arm pulled her elbow and a hand covered her mouth. She was spun around and found herself in the ladies washroom and slammed into the closed door. She looked up and saw it was Mel who had a hold of her.

CHAPTER 20

She tried to shout, but Mel still had her mouth covered. Mel’s face broke into a huge smile and she pulled Janice into a tight, fierce hug. Janice’s face was pushed into Mel’s shoulder. She quickly brought her arms up and around Mel, returning the suffocating hug.

"Oh, thank God. You’re all right," Mel whispered.

Suddenly she felt Janice’s body begin to shake. The shaking got stronger and Mel realized Janice was sobbing. Mel tightened her hold and stroked the smaller woman’s back.

"Ssh, ssh, I’m here Janice. I’m here. I’m fine. I’m fine."

Janice couldn’t control herself. All the fear, desperation and pressure of the last three weeks had finally caught up with her. She was ashamed of her lose of control, but she couldn’t stop. Mel was in her arms! They had both survived.

Mel was shaken by Janice’s reaction. She had never imagined the brave, strong woman could fall apart like this. But then she realized that except for their moment on the platform, the last image Janice had of her was aboard the sinking ship. Janice had lived much longer with the idea she could be dead. No wonder she was upset.

"Ssh. Please Janice, please stop crying or I’ll start. I’m here. Everything is going to be okay." She continued to rub her back gently.

Janice’s sobs died away. She got her breathing under control and moved out of Mel’s arms slightly. She wiped her face on her leather jacket. She was a mess.

Quietly, "I’m sorry Mel. I messed your suit."

Mel laughed and pulled her back for another hug and this time Janice returned it with joy. Mel pulled out of the hug and moved her hand under Janice’s chin and raised it. Janice’s face was wet and gooey. Mel smiled and reached for some paper towel by the basin. She took off her glasses and left them on the sink and then proceeded to lovingly wipe Janice’s face clean. Janice stared at her as if she were a ghost.

"There Dr. Covington, you look much better." Mel smiled one of her brilliant smiles and that brought Janice back to reality. She moved her hands up to Mel’s face.

"What happened to you?"

Mel moved her hands to match Janice’s and held the blonde woman’s face.

"I was picked up by the Danish Red Cross. They brought me to Denmark and took care of me. They helped me get to England, where I was looking for you."

"Denmark! You were in Denmark?" Janice was stunned.

"They saved my life Janice. I owe them everything."

"How long? How long were you in the water?" Janice had to know how long Mel had suffered.

Mel looked away, and Janice tightened her hold on Mel’s face.

"How long Mel?" Janice was suddenly very frightened.

"Four or five days," she said softly.

"Oh my God!" Janice pulled Mel into a hug and this time she pulled the larger woman so close Mel had trouble breathing. Her worst fears were confirmed. Mel had suffered greatly because of her.

"Janice, please…"

Janice released her grip. "Sorry…I’m so sorry for everything…everything is my fault..."

Mel quickly grabbed Janice’s arms and shook her.

"No Janice! Life happens. Now snap out of it and tell me what happened to you."

Janice took a breath. "I was picked by a US aircraft carrier and ended up in Malta." She hesitated. She wasn’t sure what to tell Mel.

"And…Janice, what’s going on? I was told you weren’t picked up by the US navy."

"Who told you?"

"The navy! Janice how did you get to England and why are you on this train?" Mel once again moved her hands to hold Janice’s face.

Janice was confused. "I…I’m…"

"Janice, please tell me what’s going on. I’m not leaving you…"

"You have to Mel! It isn’t safe for you to be with me." Janice brought up a hand to stroke Mel’s cheek.

Mel saw Janice’s fear and put the jigsaw pieces together.

"The navy wouldn’t tell me you were alive because you’re a spy, aren’t you Janice?" Mel released her hold on Janice’s face. Janice felt the loss of contact like a cold gust of wind after a door closes. "Why? We were suppose to meet in Lisbon." Janice could hear the hurt in Mel’s voice.

"Listen to me," Janice picked up Mel’s hands and held them to her heart. "Two men from US Intelligence met me in Malta. They knew about Turkey. They were going to send me back there if I didn’t do this job. And, and," she continued excitedly, "they promised they’d search for you and send me to Lisbon after I was finished."

She tightened her grip on Mel’s hands. "I had no choice. I needed to find you, you were all that mattered. That hasn’t changed, love," Mel’s heart jumped at the sound of the word, "I have to keep you safe. Please go back to London so I know you’re all right." She moved Mel’s hand to her own cheeks. "You told me the same thing once, remember?"

Mel smiled at the memory of Janice fighting to get out of the lifeboat and her stopping the smaller woman to tell her that she needed her to be safe and that she loved her.

"I remember," she said.

"So do I." Janice turned her head and kissed Mel's palm. First one, then the other. Mel’s knees went weak at this beautiful, expressive gesture. She moved her face closer to Janice’s. Their eyes met and they both could feel the magnetic pull. Mel tilted her head slightly and Janice allowed her to lead the way.

Their lips touched softly. Mel pulled back and both women smiled. Mel felt passion spread through her entire body. Janice lifted her hand and wrapped it behind Mel’s head and pressed the woman closer. The second kiss was warmer. Mel opened her mouth slightly, remembering Janice do it on the boat, and pressed her tongue to Janice’s soft lips.

Janice smiled and gladly opened her mouth. Mel’s tongue hesitated but then ran over Janice’s teeth and pushed inside the smaller woman’s mouth. Janice heard herself moaning at Mel’s timid explorations. Mel’s hands took on a life of their own, caressing the sides of Janice’s trim body.

Janice’s other hand found Mel’s backside and she gently kneaded the rounded bottom. Mel started to moan, and her mouth and tongue moved faster and harder. Janice pressed back with her tongue. The woman broke apart for air and then crashed together a third time and this time it was as if their mouths were on fire.

Janice hadn’t expected to feel such overwhelming passion at their first encounter. Something had changed in Mel, it was that Mel was positive she wanted this as much as she did.

Mel was going by instinct, and what Matilda had said was true, everything she felt was right and her body was telling her what to do.

Janice’s moans became louder and her hand moved from behind Mel’s head to the front of her suit. Her fingers cupped Mel’s left breast and she gently squeezed. Mel broke the kiss.

"Oh, God, Janice," her breath was ragged and she could feel the blood pounding in her ears.

"Oh, I’m hurting you! I’m sorry!" Janice moved her hand off Mel, remembering Mel’s attacker in Turkey had abused the woman’s breast, but Mel’s hand quickly grabbed it and put it back.

"No," she panted, "That feels so good when you do it."

Janice squeezed again, this time more lovingly and Mel’s eyes closed. Janice moved in for another kiss when there was a knock at the door.

"Excuse me?" came a woman’s voice.

Mel’s eyes flew open and Janice pulled both her hands back to her side. Mel continued to hold Janice, since she was sure her rubbery legs wouldn’t support her unless she had something to hold onto.

"I’ll be right out," said Janice in a huskier, deeper voice than usual.

The women looked at each other. Reality had returned. Janice knew she had to get Mel away from her, especially since now that they had finally touched one another it would be hard to stop.

"God Mel, I love you," she whispered so the person outside the door wouldn’t hear. "You have no idea what you do to me. Well...maybe you do now," she smiled.

Mel took Janice’s hand.

"So please believe me when I say you have to go to London." Mel was about to speak but Janice put a finger to her lips.

"I’m on my way to Berlin." Mel looked shocked.

"There is no way you can follow me. So go back and wait for me. Don’t worry, what I’m doing is as easy as pie," she lied. "I’ll be back and then we can spend the rest of our lives together."

"No, Janice, let’s leave together. We can…"

"No," she whispered loudly. "We could both be killed. I want to wake up in your arms for the rest of my life, and believe me, what happened here is just the beginning." Janice smiled, hoping to relieve the pain they both felt.

Mel had tears in her eyes, but she let Janice win. "I’ll go back. I love you Janice," she whispered. "I love you too," whispered Janice.

"Now you go out first. Turn left and head for the bar car and get a drink. Stay there until the train stops and then head straight for the station. Stay there until you get the next train to London. There’s a nice hotel in London, called the Biltmore. Stay there, all right?"

Mel was about to tell Janice that’s where she was staying, but there came a second urgent knocking. "Excuse Me!"

Mel reached back and retrieved her glasses from the sink. "What will she think?" motioned Mel to the door.

"Who cares." Before Mel reached for the handle, Janice picked up her hand and kissed her palm. "Soon."

"Soon," Mel said straightening her suit. She opened the door. A large man with a gun pulled Mel by the hair. Janice moved out from behind Mel, but before she could reach for the gun in her backside waistband Roebuck stepped beside her and grabbed her arm.

"Idiot," was all he said. 

[hqcentineo-blog]

late to the party — condineo

Date / Time / Location : Saturday September 29, 2018 / 12:30AM / Los Angeles, CA Background Info : After getting the cold shoulder from Lana for the better part of two weeks (much deserved after the shitty texts he sent her after a night of drinking), Noah finds out via insta story that she’s in LA. And hasn’t told him. It’s time to make this a face-to-face fight. Featuring : Lana Condor @lanacndr ; Mentioning : Camila Mendes @hqcami TRIGGER WARNING : N O N E

Noah: It was coming up on two weeks since Noah had heard from Lana; this was the longest they’d gone without communication since they’d met and it still left a bad taste in Noah’s mouth anytime this fact came to mind. His life felt off kilter, his world skewed like a wheel on a bent axis. He didn’t remember how to live a life that didn’t include her and it really annoyed him. In an attempt to forge a new normal, Noah had his boys on stand-by, a crew of friends ready to go out and hang at moments notice. But for now, he was at his house, spending some time with himself in an attempt to keep his head clear. Since he was in training for his next film, there was no booze in his house. As long as he stayed home, he was good. Lounging on his couch, Noah scrolled instagram, ignoring his flooding DMs, seeing what his friends were up to in their respective lives. After a while, he did what he always did and typed Lana’s name, watching as her profile appeared, a multicolored circle around her icon, signifying that she had added to her story. He wanted to watch it but he didn’t really want his name to appear as having watched it. After some internal debate, he tapped the screen, the image of Lana dancing in a dark club with a bunch of friends-including the likes of his other former costar Camila Mendes-appearing before his very eyes. He tapped the screen to replay the video, taking note of the unique light patterns on the wall behind the bar. He knew that place. It wasn’t in Vancouver; it was in West Hollywood. Lana was in LA and hadn’t even told him. With a three word text to the group thread, Noah jumped off the couch and ran for his bedroom to get ready. ‘WeHo. Let’s go.’

Lana: It was strange for Lana to go this long without speaking to Noah; it felt unnatural, as though something had broken, throwing her for a loop. This was her world, without him in it – and she didn't like it. Not one bit. She didn't know how to be his friend... not like this. She'd heard her fair share of voicemails, they begun filling up her inbox, and in an effort to hear his voice, she'd listen to them. Again. And again. And again. Why don't you just call him? It was her pride keeping her from taking that step, and maybe, she wanted him to understand just how hurt she was by his words. She knew he had been drunk, that it was unintentional, but she was of the thought: drunken words speak sober thoughts. Somewhere, deep down, he must have believed what he said. It must have explained why, when she knew she was going to LA, that she didn't tell him. She hadn't reached out, because she wasn't sure if she was ready to see him – or maybe she was, but she couldn't bring herself to. Not after how they left things when he was last in Vancouver, and not after the last two weeks. Gathering with her friends in town, they'd set out for a night on the town with no particular goal in mind, but to dance and drink her troubles away for the evening.Dressed in venue-appropriate attire, and make-up that accentuated her features, highlighting the apples of her cheeks, Lana had no trouble blending in with the magnanimous aesthetic of her chosen squad for the night's activities. The waving of phones and cameras at one another, filming it and sharing it for all to see. She hadn't done it to throw it in his face, in fact, she ensured the name of the venue was obscured and that there was no clear indication of where she was partying; in the case a fan or two wanted to appear, and join in on her shenanigans. Dim neon lights illuminate various line of their bodies, the music resonating over the crowd; a boisterous laugh leaving her lips as she stumbled into a booth with her friends. Dark eyes roaming the club, watching the club-goers lose themselves in the ecstasy of the setting, searching and searching, until... she sees him. Was she drunk? No, it couldn't be. It was really him. It was Noah.

Noah: The music was blasting loud enough to be heard from the other end of the block. Climbing out of the black Escalade Uber with his friends, Noah swallowed hard as he ran a hand through his hair. He was nervous. Nervous to see her, nervous to follow the plan he’d semi-constructed in his head with the hopes of getting near enough to speak to her, nervous across the board. This entire situation was beyond stupid and Noah silently cursed himself for putting them in the space they were currently inhabiting as he and his crew neared the roped off entrance to the club. A broad smile from Noah was met by a recognizing nodding from the bouncer and the red velvet rope was immediately moved aside for them, allowing he and his five best buds passage into the dark venue, much to the dismay of the line of partygoers who’d been waiting their turn. It took a moment for his eyes to adjust to the dimness, the only source of light coming from the flashing neon colors that bounced off the walls like gumdrops. For all he knew, Lana was gone. Those videos had gone on her story nearly an hour ago and, for all he knew, this whole thing was for naught. He ordered a drink and grabbed an open booth, sitting down before allowing his gaze to scan the room. He tried his best to be nonchalant about it but he knew he more than likely looked like a creep. It was then that a girl caught his eye: he didn’t know this blonde girl personally but he knew her face. She had been on Camila’s story, wrapping Lana in a giant bear hug. Using her as a landmark, Noah began to examine the girls in her near proximity until...bingo. Lana. “Jack,” Noah said, slapping his best friend on the shoulder. “You see that blonde girl over there? Go talk to her, will ya?” In this fashion, Noah made his rounds through his friend group; for each guy, there was a girl Noah needed him to talk to until there were only two women left standing: Lana and Camila. Like a missile locked onto its target, Noah started to make his way over to where the two were sitting in a partially exposed booth. He tried to be casual about it, taking the time to stop and chat with the few people to recognized him and cared enough to stop him for a selfie. Eventually, he came up on their table. “Ladies,” he said, his voice thick with charm as if he was smoozing a stranger in the hopes of going home with her. From the looks on their faces, this course of action wasn’t going to get him anywhere. Turning his attention to Camila, Noah’s features softened. “Cam, can I talk to Lana alone for a second?” When no one moved, Noah tried to smile. “You can grab a few drinks? On me?”

Lana: She tried to imagine what she would say – how she would react if they had run into each other during her impromptu trip to LA. Lana hadn’t gotten past the initial shock, nor did she figure a passable tactic to maneuvering away from the scenario. So when faced with reality, she hadn’t any clue what to do. Except that she was going to try her absolute hardest to continue avoiding him – hoping that her loyal comrades wouldn’t leave her on the battlefield alone. But Noah was a smart enemy; he knew how to pick off her friends, one by one. She should have figured this would happen – so when there only remained her and Camila, her eyes spoke volumes: don’t leave me alone. Nodding a silent agreement, they continued to feign ignorance. Like anything, if they ignored it long enough, it would go away... but this was Noah, and he was never going to let that happen. Crafty, cunning in his efforts, but she knew better than to fold and let him have the upper hand. It was a petty mentality, because underneath the façade, she wanted to talk to him, run at him and throw her arms around him, but her pride kept her from doing so. Fingers clenched and unclenched around her near-empty beer bottle, her shining eyes flickering between a spot ahead of her, the approaching figure of Noah, and the stronghold of Camila beside her. Lana pushed at loose hair, attempting to focus her attention on the only companion that remained at her side. “You can’t leave me, no matter what you do – you can’t –“ Her plea was cut short by a familiar voice, one she’d actively tried to avoid, but spent far too much time mooning over. His question was directed at the Brazilian beauty, and when she looked over, Lana could only widen her eyes enough to get her message across: no. When no movement was made, he calculated a new approach; one that was both genius and well-thought. A sideways glance was all it took to see that Camila was considering the offer. There was no way she would take him up on it, right? She wouldn’t do that – no amount of free booze could – oh, there she goes. Shooting an apologetic, but devious smile in their direction, she begun towards the bar. Seriously?! Mentally cursing at whatever God was laughing at her expense, Lana kept her eyes trained on the swaying crowd of club goers, rather purposeful in not acknowledging Noah’s presence, as powerful as it may be. No matter how much she wanted to speak to him... she simply couldn’t give in.

Noah: He hadn’t actually excepted tactic no. 2 to work--Camila was headstrong to a tee, not unlike a bull--but with nothing more than a knowing glance, she slipped into the massive crowd in the general direction of the bar; he could only imagine the top shelf shit she would rack up on his tab, a little extra ‘fuck you for hurting my friend’ and he couldn’t really blame her. Focusing his attention back on the girl that actually mattered, Noah glanced down, painfully aware of Lana’s counterattack: look at anyone or anything but him. Smart, decisive, oh so cold and if it hadn’t been directed at him, he would have been impressed instead of overcome with the hurt that was radiating in his chest. Okay. He was here. He had her right in front of him. Now what? The plan he’d poorly established in his mind hadn’t gone this far. Apparently it was time to go off book and wing it. Either by her design or sick coincidence, Lana was seated on the very edge of the narrow booth, allowing him absolutely no room to sit down beside her. The two foot gap between his head and hers combined with the blaring music wasn’t exactly ideal for a heart-to-heart apology so he knelt, one knee hitting the slightly sticky floor until their eyes were level. “I can’t believe you would come to LA and not tell me.” That was miles away from the real issue but it seemed a natural starting point. And besides, what was he supposed to say that he hadn’t already left on her voicemail? The atmosphere was less than ideal, true, but Noah wasn’t about to suggest that Lana go anywhere with him, even if only to better hear his apology. It was a miracle in itself that she hadn’t gotten up and walked away yet; he’s just have to make due wit with what he had. “And I think you should get your phone fixed because you apparently haven’t been getting any of my calls.” These words were accompanied by a small and tentative smile, one that could either say ‘I’m sorry’ or ‘I really wanna kiss you’ and, in this particular instance, it meant both. It would always mean both when it came to Lana.

Lana: Never, in the time she's known him, would she have thought possible to go so long without so much as a word to him. She was in a bind, the vines constricting every time she tried to stray further away from the path life seemed to be pushing her on – towards Noah. Always towards Noah. She hated that it was conspiring against her, holding onto him, keeping him so entirely cemented in her; every part of her ached for his presence, and as much as she wanted to just reach out to touch him... she couldn't.  Because she wasn't sure if she had forgiven him yet, if she could forgive him. Lana knew he hadn't any real option when he sauntered up, she made sure that he wouldn't be able to fit himself in beside her; she knew, if he was any closer, she might not be able to keep it up. Then... down he went, onto one knee. She eyed him carefully, being sure not to meet his gaze, completely aware of how disgusting the floor most likely was. There were so many things he could have said, to begin with – an apology would have been preferred, but what he did say happened to catch her off-guard. Pressing her lips together, she formed her own response without saying a word, eyes waning until they finally caught a glimpse of his. Her expression, meaningful, unable to vocalize the rampant thoughts running through her head. Or maybe she could put her thoughts to words, but didn't want to. Weighing up whether she should say something or not, which tipped greatly in spending the evening ignoring him when she first saw him walk in, begun to waver, the weights lifting with each passing moment. Inhaling a deep breath, she closed her eyes slowly, preparing herself to speak, but before she could – "Oh. My God. Proposal!" Her head whipped to the side of her, a tipsy bystander who somehow managed to arrive at the most importune time, where Noah was so gracefully on bended knee. Fortunately for them, most of the other people around them were either too drunk or too interested in themselves to care, and those who were looking, were eager to see what would happen next. She lifted her hands, waving them from side to side in defense, "No, no – no. We're not – he's not – this isn't a –" Unable to find the right manner in correcting him, she shook her head, bringing the palm of her head to her forehead, meeting his eyes once more, and without a word, seeing a familiar expression of amusement on his face, she burst out into laughter.

Noah: Noah liked to think-at this point in their friendship-that he had a pretty good read on Lana; he knew what each of her facial expressions meant, how she often played with her hair without even realizing it, and that those moments during rehearsals and table reads when she clicked her pen excessively meant she was excited, not nervous. And yet, in this instance, Noah searched her features and came up with nothing. Absolutely nothing. He had no idea how she felt now that he was in front of her, now that she had could no longer use her phone as a buffer between them. Her eyes, usually the most expressive thing about her, gave away nothing and he couldn’t help but feel a pang of guilt for extinguishing that light. He missed it. He missed everything about her and the friendship they’d had a mere handful of days ago; crazy how quickly things could be torn down. Her lips twitched as if words were finally going to come but before they could, someone shouted over the music and Noah’s head whipped around to find the source. A group of Barbie doll girls were looking on, pointing and giggling in his direction and it was only then that Noah could get out of his own head enough to see his current situation from an outsider’s perspective: down on one knee, head bent inward in an attempt to better hear the words she wasn’t even saying. “No-it’s not what you think-oh my god...” Embarrassment rose hot on the back of his neck for a moment before Lana burst into laughter and Noah couldn’t help but follow suit. They probably looked absolutely ridiculous and Noah silently thanked the universe for the favorable - if not unforeseen - repercussions of his actions. Laughter was a lovely ice breaker and goddam he had missed hearing that laugh. “Look,” he said once their laughter had died down. “At this point, you have two options: one, say no to this proposal, break my heart, and be the villain in the love story those ladies over there have created in their heads or two, say yes and then we go find a quiet place to really talk this shit out and let them think we’re going to screw each other’s brains out in the bathroom. Your move, LC.”

Lana: Despite it all, she hadn’t many options left in the way of avoiding him or ignoring him. This unplanned and unintended turn of events left her at a standstill, and she bested her options when some drunken idiot proclaimed Noah was proposing – there was no right way to go about things, but as it all unfolded, she considered his proposal carefully. She could spend the rest of her evening, trying to ignore him, battling a fueled desire to be around him... or she could stop being petulant, and actually speak with him. Glancing past him for a moment, searching the crowd for signs of her friends, she caught many of them looking back, expressions of curiosity and encouragement urging her to do something... anything. Finally, she returned her gaze to Noah, tentatively rising from her seat, she held her hand out for him, “Okay, let’s go screw in a bathroom stall somewhere.” Whilst her decision to go off with Noah would appear scandalous to those who didn’t know any better – much like the bystanders that were bold to assume that they were engaged. Jesus Christ, she was too young to start thinking about it. It was a familiar, welcome sensation have his hand in hers again. Something she hadn’t realized she’d been missing, until they were right in this moment. It was obvious that Lana was leading them through the crowd, towards the empty booths that resided beyond a certain area of the club – it was where people went for privacy, and in many cases... a popular hook-up spot for those who sought discretion. Not that that was what was going to happen between her and Noah – not at all. Once she was satisfied that nobody would bother them, she detached herself from her best friend, arms crossed firmly over her chest, looking him dead-set in his eyes. Her expression holding a hint of hostility, a sigh on her lips, “Well?”

Noah: Returning to a full standing position, Noah held out a hand in an effort to help Lana to her feet. The moment their hands touched, he felt that surge of electricity again, the same thing he’d felt slow dancing in her Vancouver apartment that night and his suspicions were confirmed: no amount of distance nor time would be changing how he felt about her. Noah followed her lead and allowed the tiny actress to pull him through the crowded dance floor, past his friends - none of whom give two shits what was happening with him. Once the duo ducked behind a curtain and into a private cabana-like lounge room, he released Lana’s hand, the nagging thought that he was the last person she probably wanted touching her gnawing at his heart. She wasted no time in jumping right into this new battle, one being fought face-to-face, the first of it’s kind in this war they’d crafted. Her arms crossed across her body like a shield as if she was preparing herself for the damage he was about to cause, trying to steady herself against the gale force winds that were his words. Well? Well what? What was he suppose to say? Repeat the things he’d left on her voicemail? If she’d listened to any of them, she showed no indication. “Well...I’m sorry. I’m really sorry for what happened. Sorry that I got drunk and texted you those things. It was bullshit. I was just looking for any excuse to get a reaction out of you and I used the easiest route which was that garbage about Anthony. It was a fucked up move. I know that. And I’ve spent the last two weeks hating myself for fucking everything up between us.” That seemed to be a tidy little summary of fourteen ignored voicemails. His brown eyes never left hers, flicking back and forth, desperate in his search to find even the smallest glimmer of hope for moving past this. So far? Nothing.

Lana: A heavy sensation fell over her heart – remnants of the pain she’d ruminated in for the last two weeks began to make themselves known, clawing at every bit that cared for him... clawing at every single inch of her. She knew love, and she knew what wanting someone could do to her, but there was nothing like what she felt for Noah. There was no way to describe how she felt – and for him to throw it back in her face truly cut deep. As she stood there, each word spilling from him and at her feet, waiting for her to pick them up and untie the binds that kept him at a distance. Her breathing was hollow, her eyes softening, the arms crossed slump slightly. God, she wished he didn’t make her so weak at the knees. Swallowing thick, Lana bit down on her bottom lip, her voice soft, struggling to find strength in this moment: “You hurt me, Noah.” Boy, did he hurt her. Shaking her head, she sucked in her bottom lip, “You said cruel things and then went –“ A pause, recalling the image she had in her head of Noah being with some tall and beautiful woman, “Went and slept with somebody that...” She couldn’t tell him that she had been jealous, or that she wanted him to want her. The distant pounding of the club’s music sifted through the tense air that danced between them, holding her hostage from turning around and leaving him without a word. A sigh left her lips in a hurry, and she glanced past him for a moment, unable to meet his gaze, “You hurt me, and I hated that you could hurt me like that – you... were meant to be the guy. My guy.”

Noah: Noah peered down at Lana as she spoke, one hand running nervously through his mess of wavy brown locks. “Went and slept with somebody that...” Is that what this was truly all about? Was this the true root of the reason that she was so unbelievably upset? He secretly hoped so because this issue had a very easy fix. “I didn’t sleep with that girl that night.” His statement hung in the space between them for a beat, tiny words coming together to form one giant confession. “I - look, I went back to her place and I just...I couldn’t do it. I didn’t want to do it.” I couldn’t do it because she wasn’t you. I didn’t want to do it because she wasn’t you.Noah tried his damndest to allow Lana to search his eyes; hopefully they would prove to her that he was telling the truth and not just trying to talk his way out of this mess. Her final few words fell from her lips, leaving Noah stunned into silence. The guy. My guy. What?! What did that mean? Did she mean that in the same way she’d always meant it? As her guy that wasn’t actually her guy? Or did she mean it in a real way, a new way, a way that she’d never before applied to him? “I never wanted to hurt you. Never ever. Everything got so fucked up so quick. You’re the last person in the world that I would ever want to hurt, Lana. If you don’t believe anything else I say, you gotta believe that.”While she had previously done an excellent job at avoiding his gaze, he caught her, their eyes locking as if seeing each other for the very first time. “I love you, Lans. I’m sorry for hurting you.” The tension between them was still palpable but it was shifting - at least a piece of it was. He could feel his heart begin to race the way it had in the moments before his last failed attempt at revealing his feelings. It felt like he had just finished sprinting a four minute mile; if he didn’t move soon, his heart would burst. A large step toward and large hands were gripping slender shoulders, lips meeting with an utterly insatiable hunger. He pulled her against him - an instinct - as their kiss deepened. Finally, for the first time in weeks, he was able to shut his brain off and move on autopilot, finally giving into the temptation he’d stood so firmly against for so long. And it felt so damn good.

Lana: There were not enough words to explain how she felt, beneath all the hurt and anger she’d subjected herself to over the last two weeks. Fingers clamped and unwound themselves, brown eyes reading everything his mouth wasn’t saying. Leaving her breathless, from relenting on the green-eyed monster that had plagued her, to the sudden rush of liberation from hearing his truth, only allowing herself to know one side... her own. That didn’t change the fact that he had said something cruel – something he couldn’t take back, even if he tried. His apology brought on a new concoction of emotions; I love you, Lans. I’m sorry for hurting you. Her hands searched the dimly lit booth for his, taking them into hers. No hesitation, just knowing he was there, meaning every single word. Lana wished she could say that hearing him tell her he loved her – even if it wasn’t in the way she hoped... he loved her, nonetheless. She couldn’t ignore the sincerest of expressions on his face, her affection and love for him winning out over her stubbornness. With a small smile, “I believe you, Noah. And more than anything,” she paused, her shoulders lifting into a shrug, “I love you too much to pretend that I didn’t miss you, because I did.” Before anything else could be said, he caught her by surprise. His lips, met with hers. Instead of fighting it, she gave in far too willingly to him. Finding sense, without losing herself entirely to him, she pulled away, keeping him at arm’s length. “Noah,” she gasped, rather breathless. Her gaze explored his face, trying to justify why this shouldn’t be happening. Find some rationality; but there was none to be had... not right now. Fighting the better part of her judgement, “Oh, screw it.” She immediately threw her hands over his shoulders, and reignited a flame that she thought would disappear, but it was persistent. Her light was Noah wasn’t going anywhere. Lips pressing against his, everything she could... she wanted to give him. Lana’s small frame fitting easily with his.

Noah: The fact that Noah entered that roped off VIP room with a best-friend-turned-enemy and was about to leave it having not only mended their broken friendship but taken it to a whole other level was laughable. Not laughable in a ‘ha ha that’s funny’ sort of way but in a way that used laughter to express how completely unforeseen life could sometimes be. Never in a million years did the young actor think this was how his night would turn out but he couldn’t truthfully say he was mad about it. From his spot on the sleek white leather couch, he watched Lana’s figure redress in the darkness of their secluded hideout. In the aftermath of their impulsive exploit, there lingered the smallest amount of awkwardness; now that they’d made up, normalcy was meant to set back in. But they’d gone ahead and once again changed the landscape of their friendship leaving new terrain to navigate. “Well...” Noah said, breaking the quiet as he rebuttoned his jeans. “That just happened.” Using humor to break up a potential uncomfortable situation? Classic Noah. He shot Lana a soft smile, unsure if he was supposed to lean in and kiss her, despite wanting to. As happy as he was, the uncertainty of what this meant for their future held him back from fully savoring the moment. He was set to leave for Berlin in a matter of days to start filming his new movie; to say this new development came at an inopportune time was an understatement. “Any regrets?” 

Lana: Lana had flown into LA with every intention of leaving without Noah knowing a single thing – there was no plan to follow, but a clear path that didn’t include him. However, her path changed and manifested until it brought her straight to him. It was on a path that she couldn’t have predicted. What. Just. Happened?! No one could have anticipated that the evening would have unfolded the way it did – when she agreed to talk with him, it was a chance to mend what was broken between them, move on and have her friend back. Instead, she found herself losing all inhibition and letting their bodies do the talking, now shimmying back into her skirt, her sheer bralette peaking through the top of her blouse. She eyed Noah clinically. She wanted to know what was running through his mind. Her lips pressed together, worried lines appearing along her forehead. His voice drew her out of her own reveling, eyes searching for his through the dark space. With a small smile of her own, she leaned her head back against the couch. “When I said we should go screw each other in a bathroom stall, I didn’t mean it literally,” her voice soft and teasing, before her previous tentativeness returned to her features. She was tiptoeing around it. Did she have any regrets? Fuck no. She was more concerned on whether he had any regrets. Shaking her head, she gave a little smile, “No... no regrets.” She glanced down, afraid to hear what he might say. Where did they go from here? Did they simply go back to being best friends and act like this had never happened? Lana barely understood what had just transpired between them, and couldn’t imagine what could happen next. Pursing her lips, she touted from side to side. Hesitation in her voice, “Do you have any regrets?”

Noah: Noah let out a small laugh at her reference to a comment made what felt like hours ago, the tension momentarily dispersing. He would have given anything in this moment to know what she was thinking and feel how she was feeling. “So many. Aaaaall the regrets.” After pulling his dark grey shirt back onto his body, Noah found Lana’s eyes in the darkness, her slightly furrowed brow and tightly drawn lips making it clear his joke wasn’t landing. Reaching out, Noah took both her hands in his, twisting his body until he could face her head on, his left leg bent out to the side in the space between them with his knee pressed gently against the back cushion of the couch. “No. No regrets at all,” he said, reassuring her with a tight squeeze of her hands in his. “How could I possibly regret doing that? Look at you. I mean...goddam. Total smoke show.” He hoped his words would put both their minds at ease but they probably wouldn’t; life was too complicated sometimes. He released her hands before saying, “Look, I need you to know that this--” he motioned back and forth in the space between them. “Wasn’t part of my plan. I didn’t come here tonight with this being a - a goal or anything. I don’t want you thinking that it was or feeling taken advantage of or anything like that. I hope you don’t, anyway.” He swallowed hard as if trying to force back down the next part of the conversation that needed to be had. “But...I need to be honest with you. News is going to break in the next few days that I got a role in a Charlie’s Angels reboot and filming starts next week...in Berlin.” Unsure of how she would react, Noah found himself holding his breath, anxiety building beneath his skin. If their actions tonight and the timing of it all caused him to lose her again, just when he got her back, he would hate himself. “So...I don’t really know how we’re supposed to proceed from here. Or what this all means for us.”

Lana: When Lana imagined her first time with Noah, in any scenario, she never imagined it'd be in some private booth in a dark LA nightclub – but the truth of the matter was, it was almost perfect. It was infinitely better than her imagination, and by God, she hoped she wasn't holding onto some semblance of fantasy when he was right there. With a sigh, Lana held her head against his chest, shielding her face from his view.  His words... his reassurance painting a smile on a rather solemn expression. She couldn't quite find the right words. He had no regrets and that meant something. Finally, after a moment's deliberation, he uttered his next project which would have him flying halfway across the world – bringing her attention upwards, her dark eyes met his once more, searching for an answer – anything that wouldn't have her feel like that this was a last hurrah before he disappeared on her. No, that's not what was happening. He was sitting there, being open and honest. He was telling her what she deserved to hear. She couldn't forget that. "You're... going to Berlin?" Her voice is surprised, a hint of pride evident. Of course she was proud of him. She wanted him to succeed, because of who he was and the talent that coursed through his veins. Her eyes told him nothing, that is until her hands come to rest on either side of his face. A smile, small at first, growing as she spoke, "Noah – this is amazing. I am so proud of you, and –" Well, she had no clue what any of it meant for them either. This wasn't part of the plan. None of this was – neither of them knew what was going to happen, nor what wold happen next, except that it was happening, and they had to make it work. However that may be. Rubbing her thumb over his right cheek, she scrunched her face and lifted her shoulders into a small shrug. "I don't know, either, but... maybe this doesn't have to be the be-all or end-all for us. I know I love having you as my best friend, and I know that I really liked what just happened... maybe we can just... say that this happened, and we can figure it out later?"

Noah: A sense of sheer relief overcame him as Lana’s features broke from blank to pride, his own lips spreading into a wide grin as she vocalized her approval. “I’m so fucking stoked and it feels amazing to actually tell someone. It feels good to tell *you*. You were the first call I wanted to make when my agent called but...y’know...” Noah nodded slowly as she continued her thoughts. “I don’t want this to be the end for us. That’s the last thing I want. But I also don’t want anything to fuck up our friendship. I can’t lose you again, Lans. So let’s go outside, dance like psychos, and figure the other shit out later.” Lana was probably the only girl who wouldn’t make this into a huge deal; reason #1023982 why he adored this chick so goddam much. “But if **this** happens again in the not-too-far-off future, I wouldn’t be mad about it. Just fyi.” Standing, he extended a hand. “Dance with me, LC. Let’s go let everyone know World War III is officially over by grinding all over each other.” After she placed her hand in his, he looped his arm around her shoulders, anchoring their bodies together as they rejoined the rest of their fellow club-goers, their entwined hands on full display. 

[gastricpierrot]

Title: When Stars Align

Series: Daiya no Ace

Pairing: KuraRyou

Rating: T

Summary: Nothing good ever comes out of an intimate relationship between a human and a youkai, Ryousuke knows. He’s heard more than enough stories on betrayal, on disasters, on families being shunned. And being an onmyouji, he knows better than anyone else.

And yet, he lets himself fall.

Note: WELP THAT ONLY TOOK LIKE 3 MONTHS OR SOMETHING IM SO SORRY _(:D tagging @public-benches​ and @hailing​ because i feel like i need to personally apologize to you guys for taking so long ahahah OTL

Also on AO3! 

[Ch.1][Ch.2][Ch.3][Ch. 4][Ch.5]

[Ch.6]

Youichi has no idea who the guy is.

The one thing he knows is that he’s going to annoy him a lot, just by the looks of him. Really, no one with a grin that mischievous should be trusted with anything, even if he did have a pretty face and an onmyouji's outfit. Youichi notices the tell-tale signs right away as well; the unusual light in the newcomer's eyes, the way his footsteps seem to echo a tad too loudly in the open space around them. Guy's a youkai.

“So, you’re the new tengu,” Pretty Boy observes, in a sort of mocking, calculating way that instantly prods at Youichi’s temper. What is his problem? Actually, scratch that—what's with everyone here who's walked up to him questioning his ability? He knows Tetsu's probably set ridiculously high standards during his time here, but still. He's trying his best and he's not about to whine at this smug racoon.

"There anythin' you need?" Youichi's proud of how stable his voice comes out. Go a few years back and he'll probably be grinding their foreheads together and asking for a fight. Definitely not the volatility people would want from a protective deity.

"Oh, nothing much." A dismissive wave. "Just thought I'd check out the new guy."

"Uh...huh." That reason's way too vague to sound legitimate. "And you are?"

"Name's Miyuki Kazuya," Miyuki says with absolutely none of the formality the mountain youkai insist on using with Youichi despite his efforts to be casual with them. Youichi can't say he fully appreciates that coming from this guy, though. "Youkai-onmyouji extraordinaire! Feel free to use honorifics while speaking to me, yeah?"

Youichi snorts at that, crossing his arms. "You wish, pal. Even I don’t get those all the time here.”

“Have you considered that’s because you look a lot like a troublemaker?” Miyuki suggests offhandedly, so much so that Youichi almost fails to take offense at his tone of voice. Almost.

“And have you considered minding your own business?" Youichi tries hard not to snap. He's not letting this newcomer just waltz in and start judging him. He's already had enough of that the first time.

Miyuki simply laughs in response, hands raised in an unconvincing gesture of placation. "Sorry, didn't mean to touch a nerve there."

Youichi glares at him. "If you're only here to see how I look like, you're done. Go home, wander around—whatever, I don't care. Pretty sure you're at least smart enough to find something else to amuse yourself with."

Miyuki has the audacity to look offended at that. “Rude.”

Youichi allows himself two deep breaths. It’s his loss if he loses his temper, he knows. And despite only having known Miyuki for a grand total of ten minutes Youichi decides he’d rather kiss his master’s feet than to give him the satisfaction of winning whatever stupid little game he’s trying to play here.

“Alright, you know what?” Youichi works to keep his hands from clenching into fists. “Just be honest. What are you here for?”

“I told you, I’m just here to check out the new guy.” Miyuki’s smile turns wry. “I wasn’t trying to flirt, by the way.”

“Wow, I am so disappointed.” Youichi doesn’t think his tone could go any flatter. Miyuki, expectedly, is not at all bothered by that.

“Also, I didn’t catch your name?”

Youichi proceeds to spend several seconds trying to decide if he's still in the middle of making fun of him, or if their entire conversation up until this point was just Miyuki sucking at trying to make friends and probably being nice in general. Thinking back, Youichi figures he's probably kinda in the wrong as well; Miyuki technically hasn’t directly insulted him or anything yet. He can definitely trust his gut that long-term exposure to him is going to be a pain in the ass, but he supposes there’s no harm in trying to be a decent person for now. He shouldn't stoop as low as this tanuki so fast.

“It’s Youichi.” He manages to keep it from sounding like a grumble. Miyuki nods once.

"And I hear you've pulled off the miraculous feat of having Ryousuke-san like you?"

"I'm not sure if Ryou-san's exactly capable of harbouring any fondness towards people who are not Haruichi," Youichi deadpans, cursing himself for feeling blood creep to his cheeks at the way Miyuki worded his sentence nonetheless. "But we’re tolerating each other, I guess."

"Aw, no need to be so shy about it! You're even on a first name basis!" Miyuki flashes him another of his smug-ass grins, and Youichi's seized with the overwhelming urge to send him flying over a ledge in the mountain. Fortunately, he manages to settle for a heavy sigh instead.

"What exactly is your problem?" he asks, running a tired hand across his face. Of course, Miyuki looks at him like he doesn't even realize he's being a problem.

"Just curious over the person Ryousuke-san’s acknowledged, really,” he says, finally letting a bit of his mirth fade from his tone. “You may not believe it, but I’ve known him for a while now and I know how ridiculous his standards could be. I suppose you really must be impressive to some extent—though it’s not that I’d find out for sure, haha.”

Youichi’s taken aback for a second. “Huh. So you can be nice.”

“Though, it’s either that or—” Miyuki continues musing as if Youichi hadn’t spoken— “he has a soft spot for you somehow?? Wow.” His eyes widen dramatically as though he’s come to a mind-blowing discovery. “Didn’t know he liked the scruffy type.”

“I’ve no idea what you’re on about and I frankly do not want to know,” is what Youichi says but he actually has a pretty solid idea on what Miyuki’s implying and he can’t help but wonder how in the world does he come up with these conclusions. Does Ryousuke seriously treat him that differently compared to other people? Or is Miyuki just talking out of his butt to get some sort of golden reaction from him so he could have some good laughs?

“Eh, come to think of it, though,” Youichi decides on the safest course of action, and that’s to change the subject, “are you Ryou-san’s colleague from the Capital or something? Since you showed up around the time he came back.”

“By definition, yeah.” Miyuki raises his eyebrows, obviously bemused by Youichi’s evasion. “The big guys thought it’d be best for someone to accompany Ryousuke-san back after what happened during the ceremony, so.” He shrugs.

“What exactly happened over there?” Youichi’s asking before he could think it over, before it could occur to him that saying so would just further imply more investment on his part towards Ryousuke’s wellbeing.

The humour visibly fades from Miyuki’s face upon hearing the question, and Youichi feels the concern that’s temporarily receded upon Ryousuke’s return flood back to him full force. But it’s better if he knows what’s going on...he thinks. Ryousuke would no doubt try to keep it all to himself until he can’t—it’s better for them to be able to keep an eye on him and to at least be prepared in case something bad happens. He’s his sort-of partner in keeping this place safe; he has the right to know if there’s any necessity to start working solo anytime soon. What more with the Fox on the loose now and all that.

“Long story short: the Fox passed through him during her escape and he collapsed on the spot.” Despite Miyuki’s efforts to seem impersonal, Youichi senses that he’s bothered by this as well. “It’s not unusual given how that would’ve tilted his entire inner balance off axis no matter how spiritually strong he is, but we were aiming to take her down and with her nature it seems unlikely that she’d leave us unscathed even while making a quick escape.”

“You think she was aiming for Ryou-san specifically?”

“Hard to say, honestly. He was the person closest to the window, so it could very well be a coincidence.”

“Fair point.” Youichi slips into a lapse of silence, unsure where he should steer his thoughts next. There are too many uncertainties for them to make any proper conclusions and settle for a solid next course of action. And with the possibility of Ryousuke keeping quiet of any symptoms he might be having, there’s really nothing much anyone else could do.

Youichi’s attention flickers to Miyuki once more when he hears him exhale a heavy breath; his first sign of weariness and perhaps honest display of emotion. The smile he offers him then seems to be the most genuine one he’s encountered so far.

“Y’know, I get the feeling he’ll talk if it’s you,” he says, and Miyuki could only stare at him in confusion.

“And what gave you that idea?” Really, if Ryousuke doesn’t open up to even Haruichi, Youichi doesn’t see how he would have much of a better chance.

Miyuki shrugs. “Just a gut feeling, I guess.”

He sounds so confident about it that Youichi couldn’t help believing him, even just a little.

xXx

Truth to be told, Ryousuke doesn’t know how to feel when Haruichi declares he’s made up his mind to be an onmyouji over dinner.

For the most part—the selfish part, he didn’t like the idea. The profession has started dying out; many who now join the Bureau train to be clerks rather than exorcists or diviners. Ryousuke wouldn’t be surprised if it’d disappear altogether along with their generation. Unless Haruichi manages to earn his qualifications as quickly as he did, the field would have nothing to offer him by the time he’s a full-fledged onmyouji.

Of course, Ryousuke’s fully confident Haruichi could do it. He’s already got a head start, and he’s even more stubborn than him when he puts his mind to things. And if sheer will isn’t enough, Ryousuke knows more than anyone just how much potential he has. If he’s to begin training in earnest, he’d surpass even him in no time.

Perhaps that’s mainly the thing that leaves a bitter taste in his mouth. He’s worked so hard to claw his way to where he is, yet it’s undeniable that his younger brother could easily catch up to him if he tries. Maybe it’s just him holding on to the last bits of immaturity he allows himself, maybe it’s just his swollen pride affecting his judgements, he doesn’t know.

But he knows he shouldn’t let his personal feelings interfere with Haruichi’s resolve. It’s not all unexpected; he’s considered the possibilities of this outcome since the day he decided he’ll let him practice on his own. So he tells him to do what he wants, to make sure he’s prepared to not sully the Kominato name or else.

It really is a pain to be the older sibling at times.

Though, Ryousuke can’t help feeling the slightest bit relieved as well. At least this way, Haruichi would be able to protect himself if anything happens to him sometime in the future. As much as he tries not to think about it, the Fox’s unknown curse still weighs heavily in his thoughts. At this point it’s difficult to not question if the curse was one of paranoia. Could his stressed mind have imagined the sound of that nail? Could they all perhaps be depending much too heavily on assumptions?

The breeze is cool against his skin, gentle despite the altitude. The smell of rain mingles with the sweetness of the nearby flower bushes, a largely refreshing change from the stench of the Capital. Ryousuke taps his fingers against his flute, waiting for the youkai to assemble before he begins. It’s turning out to be a rather big crowd tonight; he’s received almost as many questions as requests so far. Ryousuke didn't bother going into details; it's always difficult to tell if they're genuinely curious or if they're only trying to extract more gossip material from him. He isn't doesn't plan to indulge them either way.

If asked by a stranger, Ryousuke would most likely claim he doesn't have a hobby or any sort because he's a busy, busy person. But if he's to be honest to himself, playing the flute would be one of his only sanctuaries from the demands of his job. He finds freedom in the music, expression in the melodies he composes. Hell, if he doesn't enjoy it as much as he does he would never have bothered with these fortnightly performances. Playing has helped him through difficult times, no doubt. Especially back then all he had was his fue to earn a living and support both Haruichi and himself after their parents left.

Ryousuke spots Youichi joining his audience some time in between songs. Really, if Ryousuke’s the master of hiding behind a mask, Youichi can probably be considered the exact opposite; he could almost sense his questions all the way from where he sits.

It’s strange, how he only realizes a bit later that he’s going over the things he should and shouldn’t tell him.

“Something happened while you were away.”

It’s a statement, not a question. Ryousuke meets his eyes, finding the earnestness in his gaze making him waver not for the first time. Perhaps he's partly influenced but this newfound concern over his own wellbeing after his encounter with the Fox as well; his burdens seemingly trying to pile up more and more until he's crushed under their weight.

"Mind telling me what it is?" is what Ryousuke responds with in the end anyway because he can't have Youichi know he's getting soft. Youichi doesn't take the bait, instead staring at him levelly as if to let him know he's not taking any of that tonight.

"Ryou-san." His voice sounds clear in his mind, just as it had a long fortnight ago. Ah, figures why he's so sure. Ryousuke nearly scoffs at himself. Imagine him being so distracted that he hadn't even noticed the stupid link still being around.

He lets out a breath, turning away to watch the fireflies drifting lazily in the forest. "What do you already know?" he asks through their link, mindful of the few youkai still lingering around in the area. Wouldn't want even more rumours causing mass panic now.

"That the Fox probably cursed you and that no one's been able to figure out what exactly she's done." Ryousuke hears the ruffle of clothes; probably Youichi crossing his arms.

"That about sums it up, yes.” He keeps looking away, half wary of what he’s unconsciously showing in his own expression right then. Youichi’s bluntness in putting it strangely makes it all sound all the more dire. The cries of cicadas in the background fill in the silence that settles over them, sounding especially shrill that night as though they were trying to dramatize the situation further.

“And Ryou-san,” it’s Youichi who speaks again first, albeit hesitatingly, “there’s something else...”

Ryousuke has a bad feeling about this one. He gathers the courage to ask, nonetheless, “what is it?”

Youichi takes his time trying to figure out how to go on, so much so that it’s long enough for Ryousuke to find his calm and face him once more. He watches him swallow, gaze darting aside for a second before finally mustering the courage.

“You’re...you’re not fully human, are you?”

He really shouldn’t have been as taken aback as he is. The guy has access to his mind; he’s bound to find out somehow or another. Yet Ryousuke’s breath stops, his body tensing as his heart hammers in his chest against his will. What is he doing? He shouldn’t be this bothered; there’s absolutely nothing to be flustered about. It’ll be a pain in the ass if the humans were the ones to find out, but Youichi? Him knowing shouldn’t change anything much. Whether he’s part youkai or a pure human shouldn’t make a difference to him.

Deep down, Ryousuke fears the truth is that it would. That Youichi would react exactly the way he expects the people would; that he’d just brush off all his efforts and accredit his current abilities to some innate power magically available to him. Or worse—he’d treat him like some dainty young lord lest he overuses his power and loses control to the entity within him. Youichi's one of the few people who treats him as an equal and... Ryousuke doesn't want to lose that. He’s got too few of them to lose.

“And what if I really am not?”

Youichi’s eyes widen; Ryousuke can’t tell if he’s more surprised by the truth or the ease in which he’d admitted it. He doesn’t look away this time, even silently challenging him to make some sort of comment on that. Prove me wrong. Show me you’re not like them.

“Does that mean Haruichi’s not, too?”

Well that’s definitely unexpected. For once Ryousuke’s the one momentarily loss for words. Youichi doesn’t seem to be feigning it, in fact looking genuinely curious—and perhaps even a bit scandalized for not knowing anything. In the spur of the moment, Ryousuke thinks he probably won’t mind telling him everything one day.

A laugh escapes him, mostly one of relief. “No, he’s human.”

"Oh, thank god," Youichi breathes, albeit a bit belatedly as if abruptly breaking out from a sudden stupor. "I thought my senses were really getting that dull."

"You definitely still have a lot to work on, though," Ryousuke points out helpfully, expecting the usual call of his name in half-hearted protest. But this time, Youichi merely nods in agreement—giving off an air of determination oddly similar to what Ryousuke’s felt from Haruichi.

“I’ll keep doing my best,” he says, with a sort of newfound earnestness that Ryousuke can’t help suspecting to have stemmed from the discovery of his situation. It’s...unexpectedly reassuring, to say the least. Ryousuke might've felt severely offended if someone were to even insinuate he needs any kind of support just some months back, but with the recent events that mentality's definitely begun changing. As prideful as he admits to be, he's not stupid. He knows his own limits, how to overcome them, and when to accept help when it's offered. Knowing there’s still someone behind him alone takes a large load off his back.

“I’m counting on you.”

And for the first time in a long while, those words feel true. Ryousuke doesn’t know how much time he has left before the full effects of that curse kick in; if it’ll take days or weeks or months or even in just a few hours. He doesn’t know if he’ll die or turn into a fox or lose his spiritual prowess, or all that and more. But at the very least he knows one thing for sure, and that Youichi’s someone he can rely on if he goes out of commission.  

“You’re unusually honest tonight, Ryou-san,” Youichi observes, eyebrows arched. “Wonder if it’ll snow tomorrow?”

He lets out a very undignified yelp when sparks flared around his feet. Ryousuke lowers his hand, realizing how much easier it is to breathe now.

“Don’t push it.”

[gavbon]

Introduction

Ever since Apple announced that the iPhone 7 would no longer feature a 3.5mm audio jack and instead would launch wireless earbuds called AirPods, the wireless headphone and earbud market had a massive leap in sales*, resulting in Apple taking a large slice of the pie. Similar announcements by a number of other leading phone brands have only increased the demand for wireless audio, so it is of no surprise that we are now seeing a flood of hundreds, if not thousands of wireless headphones enter the market. If you were an audio brand, what would be a good way of distinguishing your products from everything else out there? One innovating way would be to integrate fitness monitoring, which is exactly what Jabra have done with their latest earbuds dubbed Jabra Elite Sport.

Jabra, previously known for their hand’s free devices and office audio equipment, took a jump into the consumer audio arena several years back, having produced both traditional ear buds and headphones, alongside Bluetooth speakers (one of which I still use to this day). The decision to launch Bluetooth earbuds was no doubt bolstered by the trend in ditching the audio jack and the improvement in Bluetooth audio quality. By combining with a heart-rate monitor, Jabra has produced quite a unique audio product that is not only wireless but also durable (i.e. sweat proof) making it perfect for those sporty types.

* Source: Intelligent Slice

Specifications

General

True wireless smart earbuds

Lightweight

Waterproof up to 1 metre

Jabra Sport Life for Apple iOS and Android

Bluetooth

Bluetooth version: 4.1

Music and calls: Elite Sport is compatible with all Bluetooth-enabled devices, including Apple iPhone, Android, and Windows devices.

Performance tracking: Elite Sport is compatible with Bluetooth smart ready devices supporting Apple iOS and Android.

Jabra Sport Life app is compatible with Android and Apple iOS.

Battery and charging case

Talk/music time (with or without tracking): Up to 4.5 hours continuous play time

Charging case provides additional 2 full charges of up to 13.5 hours

Audio

Bespoke bass-enriched speakers with 20 Hz to 20 kHz frequency range

Passive noise cancellation

HearThrough channelling external ambient noise into earbuds for awareness

Calls

Advanced calling with 4 x digital MEMS microphones with advanced noise cancellation technology

Microphone sensitivity: -38 dBV/Pa

Microphone frequency range: 100 Hz to 10 kHz

Controls

General controls: volume, HearThrough, pair mode, Siri / Google Now activation

Music controls: play, pause, track forward, track backward.

Call controls: call answer, end, reject.

Tracking controls: open Jabra Sport Life App, start/stop and pause work-out, real time coaching feedback

Sensors

Clinical grade in-ear heart rate monitor

TrackFit motion counting sensor [tri-axis accelerometer]

Earwings & eargels

3 sizes of earwings (S, M, L)

3 sizes of silicone eargels (S, M, L)

3 sizes of foam tips (S, M, L)

Performance tracking*

Time, speed, distance, pace, steps, cadence, calories, heart rate, heart rate zone, VO2 Max estimation, repetitions*, real-time audio coaching

*Varies by activity and requires Jabra Sport Life

Durability

Waterproof rated to IP67

Warranty

3-year extended warranty against perspiration damage (requires registration through the Jabra Sport Life app)

Closer Look

The Elite Sports come in a pretty standard box, grey-scale with the Jabra yellow theme. The front can be opened to display the earbuds behind a window.

The Elite Sports come in in a plastic shell, which can be lifted to reveal the different buds and wings. There are three sizes of the foam and silicon buds and 3 sizes for the silicon wings. A short micro USB cable is supplied along with a quick start guide and other warranty information.

The earbuds themselves are fairly large. Out of the box, you get to select the buds you want, although a pair of wings is fitted as standard. These can be easily replaced. On the right earbud, you have a microphone, heart rate monitor (bottom edge) and the buttons to control the app (top) and play/pause/power/answer call button (bottom). The left earbud has volume up/next track (+) and volume down/previous track (-). The two small holes on each earbud are microphones for noise cancellation, calls, and HearThrough.

On the reverse of the earbuds, you have the charging points. You can just about make out the heart rate monitor on the bottom of the right earbud.

Software / App

The Elite Sport earbuds use standard 4.1 Bluetooth, so can be used with any device that can connect to them. This means whatever your app, the audio can be streamed directly to the earbuds, allowing you to make use of the standard audio controls and wireless nature.

Jabra does provide a fitness app that is required if you want to make use of the heart-rate monitoring. The app, called “Jabra Sports Life” can be downloaded from the Play or App Store, however, you must also download the Jabra Service app, which contains their library. I’m not 100% certain as to why Jabra have opted for a second app to make this compatible, however, it is lightweight and can just sit in the background.

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Pairing your phone and app to the ear buds

The App asks for some basic information about you

How to setup the ear buds

Making sure you get the best fit

You need a decent fit for the heart rate monitor to work correctly

Calibration is required to test the heart rate monitor

The app is bundled with tests to analyse your current fitness

The app is feature-rich, with training plans, body updates, exercise tracking…

The app itself is designed for fitness tracking and monitoring, so has a ton of features to help you do that, such as VO2max, cool down and other tests. When you first run the app it talks you through pairing your phone with the Elite Sports and then asks for some information on yourself and then some short calibration tests to ensure the heart-rate monitor is a good fit. If it isn’t, it suggests you change the wings to get a better fit.

You can now log exercise when you press and hold the lower button on the right earphone. You are also able to view your current heart-rate, which is not that far out from my FitBit Blaze I wear – although I suspect it is slightly more accurate considering it has a tighter fit.

I can only scratch the tip of the iceberg with this review as the app is incredibly in-depth allowing you to record and track your exercise routines, displaying all sorts of information, allowing you to optimise your workout – perfect for those that frequent the gym or are really focused on their wellbeing.

Performance and Testing

As with all audio reviews, it can be quite subjective when testing, as some peoples’ hearing is different from others – adults tend to miss out the higher-pitch ranges, so take this review with a pinch of salt.

The earbuds were very easy to set up. Essentially the right earbuds do all the work – it pairs to your phone, houses the microphone and heart-rate monitor. They communicate automatically with each other via near field magnetic induction

Not being a massively sporty person, I decided to go for a quick run. Firstly, I must point out that the Elite Sports have a great fit and I couldn’t feel any movement. One of my biggest worries was that they’d come loose and fall out, which isn’t ideal when you’re on a jog down a country footpath. The medium wing tips seemed to fit best and there was a big difference in noise cancellation when using the foam earbuds over the silicon.

The audio quality is fantastic for earbuds – I must expect I wasn’t anticipating any real depth to them, but the Elite Sports seem to have that little extra to the bass, although not as much richness as you’d get from the larger headphones. Mids and highs were spot on and the range is decent too – no matter what genre I throw at them, the sound reproduction was crisp and pleasant on the ears (pun intended).

An interesting and incredibly useful feature is the “HearThrough” ability – where the right earbud uses the microphone to allow background noise through so you can hear yourself and others clearly when speaking.

Call quality was probably one of the best I’ve experienced with headphones and earbuds – no doubt because Jabra is king when it comes to hands-free communications and commercial-grade comms. I wasn’t expecting great quality audio for those I was on the phone to considering the microphone placement, however, the audio was clear and crisp.

Jabra boasts an IP67 rating, meaning it can withstand being submerged in 1m of water for 30 minutes, whilst I didn’t really fancy putting this to the test, I did brave the shower. The tight fit of the earbud ensured I still go clear audio throughout, although I can only see this featuring being useful when caught in the rain or you get extra sweaty in your ears.

I managed to eek out about 3.5 hours of life from a charge, which isn’t quite a marathon for some but would cover most exercises. When not in use you simply put them back in the case, which provides up to another 2 charges before the case itself requires charging. A bit of a faff, but does mean you can charge them on the go.

Conclusion

I went into this review a little apprehensive, as this is Jabra’s first set of wireless earbuds and the fact that they had been combined with a heart rate monitor, microphone and IP rating, means there is a lot that could let it down.

Performance

All negative emotions were quickly dismissed once I had set up the earbuds and starting piping music to them – the biggest factor for me was the quality and I was impressed at the sound coming from such a small driver. Whilst it didn’t have the richness you’d get from fully fledged headphones, the bass was deep and the highs and mids crisp – perfect for most genres. Naturally, the call quality was also superb but I wouldn’t expect anything less from Jabra considering their background. Of course, if you don’t find the audio perfect yourself, you can tweak the EQ yourself in the app.

The paired app is fantastic for those that are really into their fitness, with the ability to monitor nearly everything about their exercise and paired with the fact that the heart rate monitor is fairly accurate, means you had solid readings to analyze your work out. I did notice that the app drained my phone’s battery somewhat – caused by the constant GPS use to track my routine – I couldn’t find a way to turn this off without disrupting the main functionality of the app.

Battery life is pretty good, although at 3-4 hours, you may not be able to run a marathon, it would be sufficient for most fitness activities. The charging case is also good for another two uses, although you would have to charge that up also. Unlike other wireless earbuds, the charging case cannot be used to charge any other devices – quite a few other brands allow you to do this.

Design

Whilst I love the fact that Jabra has crammed so much into such a small earbud, some could say they are a little large – they do extrude somewhat from the ears, but don’t look anywhere near as silly as some other wireless earbuds. I do feel like I am out of a Sci-Fi series, but the snug fit and portability get me past that and I suspect it will for most also.

Value

Price: Now, at £229.99 (at time of review) these could be considered expensive, but if you have a moment to think about what you are getting (which is a great deal), you would quickly change your mind. Bearing in mind Apple AirPods is £159, but not perfect by all means, you get better audio quality, more features and a comprehensive fitness app, then it is priced about right.

Overall I am incredibly impressed with the Jabra Elite Sports. Whilst they may not be that visually appealing to some, the performance and features far outweigh the limited battery life and price point. For these reasons, I’m giving the Jabra Elite Sport our gold award!

Jabra have released the first wireless Bluetooth ear buds that also contain a heart rate monitor - how do these unique ear buds perform? Find out now. Introduction Ever since Apple announced that the iPhone 7 would no longer feature a 3.5mm audio jack and instead would launch wireless earbuds called AirPods, the wireless headphone and earbud market had a massive leap in sales*, resulting in Apple taking a large slice of the pie.