"The Eighth Side of the Triangle"(18/?) by Susan Jameson (DrBarnBarn@aol.com) See part 1 for headers, archive info, etc.
~~~~~ TO: scullydk@fbi.gov WROM: ZOWCONEUQZAAFXISHJEXXIMQZUIVO SUBJECT: Navy life Hi. I don't really know what the hell to say to you ... I wanted to talk to you, in fact I damn near ran after you, but you just didn't have that "I'm in the mood to talk" look. I can't blame you. Look, I don't know what happened ... I've had about six hours sleep in the past four days and I'm punchy as hell, so I may not make any sense, but I have to tell you now because I can't stand to let it go on any longer. I don't know how things got to the point that they did, I don't know why I acted the way I did, I don't know why I didn't give in to the impulse to drag you back and make you talk to me, but I screwed things up. Plain and simple, that's what happened. And I'm sorry, for whatever that's worth. I'd give anything I have to be able to see you right now, to ask your forgiveness in person, but that's not going to happen for at least another month, and maybe longer. I still don't know when we're sailing for home, and I couldn't tell you if I did. I just hope you'll still be waiting for me when I do. Whatever I've done, however badly I've screwed up, I do love you. That's not going to change. If you can find a way, write back, even if you just want to give me six different kinds of holy hell for what I've done. I know I deserve it. Love always, Daniel TO: reillyda@washington.navy.mil WROM: TQNQEMSFDULHPQQWO SUBJECT: Re: Navy life Jesus. Calm down a little, okay? I was pissed. I won't even try to lie to you about that, because you know better, anyway. But "was" is the operative word here, Daniel. I've had some time to think about it and to talk it over with my FBI partner, who has 10 times more common sense than I do when it comes to this stuff, and I realized that I didn't have one damn thing to be angry about. So you still love Jill and you wanted to kiss her. If we're going to start putting a ban on outside kissing, you and I are both going to lose out on something, and not just Mulder/Scully kissing or Daniel/Scully kissing, either. I'm the biggest, most insecure asshole on the face of the earth, but I love you, Daniel, and I'm not going to lose you. Not for anything. So stop worrying. Listen, I don't know if you're interested or not, but if you get back to the States before the first of June, there's a hiking trip planned by a D.C. area group of our fellow tribesmen, and I thought we might go. It's four days in the wilds of Maryland, in the Catoctin Mountains. The campground is primitive, but there's water and unheated cabins -- not that heat's going to be a problem in June, and it's sure as hell not a problem staying warm if you and I share a sleeping bag. What do you say? Okay, that's about all the heart-to-heart I can deal with in one e- mail. Still, it's a huge improvement over my previous communications. By the way, I didn't get a chance to tell you, but I am proud as hell of you for what you did during the F-14 crash ... and I do mean all of it, even the part you're not talking about. You can talk to me about it when we go camping, okay? I mean it, Daniel. Whatever the hell it is, you can tell me. Until then, remember that I love you. Nothing and no one is ever going to change that. I can't wait until you're home for good. And remember, my offer still stands. Love ... ~~~~~ CAPT RAYMOND L. MAYO, MC, USNR Department of Orthopaedics National Naval Medical Center 8901 Wisconsin Ave. Bethesda, MD 20889-5600 CDR DANIEL A. REILLY, MC, USN USS GEORGE WASHINGTON (CVN 73) FPO AP 09550-2873 ALTERNATE ADDRESS (HOME OF RECORD): 1001 Aliceanna St. Apt. 1004 Baltimore, MD 21202 Commander Reilly: By order of the commanding officer, Bureau of Medicine, you are hereby ordered to report for duty at National Naval Medical Center, Bethesda, Maryland, upon termination of your current assignment but in no event later than 01 JUN 1997. Your replacement as Senior Medical Officer of USS GEORGE WASHINGTON will report to you at Bethesda for briefing. Upon reporting to Bethesda, you will assume the position and duties of Chief of Orthopaedics. FOR THE COMMANDER: (signed) Raymond L. Mayo RAYMOND L. MAYO, MC, USNR Acting Chief of Orthopaedics (Handwritten attachment) Daniel, I swear to God, I ought to bill you for every penny I lost while I was away from my practice. Or did you not know that Kenyon Madison retired while you were out there playing sailor? Well, he did, and they called me up for six months active duty to take his place. Me, for Christ's sake. It sucks, Danny boy. The Navy pays me less than half what my practice does, and I have to keep the damn office open and my staff employed while I'm gone. So when are you going to leave the Navy and join me? Don't you ever get tired of having to shine your damn shoes before you can go nail a hip? Well, I'm not going to be shining anything; not for a while, anyway. You've got Madison's job now, and welcome to it. I'm going back on Reserve status. By the way, Mr. "Run Off to Sea and Leave Your Friends Behind," you've also been nominated to represent the department at the orthopedic trauma convention this year. Don't thank me. I know you're too choked up to form the words. Find yourself a date for the opening reception - - it's aboard USNS Mercy, and the uniform of the day is white mess. Were you on the Mercy during Desert Storm? Can't remember. I wasn't. Anyway, come see me when you get back -- I'll buy you a drink. I always wanted to toast a real American hero. You were a hell of a resident, and you've turned out to be a hell of a doctor, and I'm proud as hell to say I had some part in teaching you the art of medicine, however small it may have been. Congratulations, kid. Ray ~~~~~ TO: scullydk@fbi.gov WROM: YIYZUNNYCGPKYLEJGDGVCJVTLBXFG SUBJECT: Navy life God, you may never know how relieved I was to hear from you. I've got a hell of a lot I want to say to you, but it's going to have to wait just a little longer. The best news for this week is that when I get home, I'm home for good -- or at least, what passes for permanence in the Navy. I've got orders to report to Bethesda, and I'm the new chief of orthopedics. Decent, huh? It's true what they say about sea duty advancing your career. The bad news, if you want to call it that, is that before I can come back to Baltimore, I have a short TAD in San Diego, at the American Academy of Orthopedic Trauma Surgeons conference, and ... well, I have to bring a date. I mean, they can't make me, you know, but Navy protocol being what it is. All right. You already know what I'm going to say. The only woman I know to bring is Jill, but if it would really bother you, I won't do it. I can come up with some reason why I'm solo. Just let me know, okay, and remember that as soon as the conference is over, I'm coming back home to you and I'm not leaving again -- not for the forseeable future, anyway. I can't wait to see you again. Daniel ~~~~~ TO: reillyda@washington.navy.mil WROM: GMEPYOQKEDOTWFAOB SUBJECT: Re: Navy life Christ. I thought I was going to break down and cry like a baby when I saw that you're coming home. I can hardly believe it -- your short visit home a few weeks ago is already starting to seem like some kind of dream, like it never really happened. Go ahead and take Jill to your damn conference, but just remember I'll be waiting for you ... probably in bed, naked ... and make sure you've got the stamina to deal with me, okay, sailor? Hurry home, Daniel. I want you back so much it hurts. Love ... ~~~~~ TO: scullydk@fbi.gov WROM: UZXUWLSZLKBRNVWWCUFPEGAUTFJMV SUBJECT: Navy life Naked? Did you say naked? I may jump ship and swim home. I'll call you the minute I hit American soil, okay? My travel arrangements are all made, and I'm flying straight (yeah, yeah, I know) to San Diego, but I have to talk to you. I can't wait for that. You know I love you, right? And that I'm thinking about you night and day? And, as always, at sunset ... Keep that bed warm for me. I'll be there as fast as I can. I love you ... Daniel ~~~~~ Two weeks later ... San Diego American Academy of Orthopedic Trauma Surgeons Annual Conference As Jill Saw It ~~~~~ The USNS Mercy has always looked like a giant floating first-aid kit to me, although I'd never say that to anyone. I think she's a wonderful ship, and her mission is just short of saintly, but that white-with-red-cross motif is startling, especially at night with her running lights on. Still, if it wasn't the royal palace, it was an appropriate setting for my evening out with Daniel -- a Navy hospital ship, a group of prominent orthopedic trauma specialists trying to look blase and failing, and Daniel, as always, standing literally and figuratively head and shoulders above the rest in his mess white uniform while I walked along on his arm. It was a little awkward, but I was glad I had accepted his invitation. It was the first time in years I'd been able to be with him socially, to take first place with him -- even if it was only for the night, and only a social formality -- and I was enjoying the envious looks from the other women more than I'd ever have dared to admit. It was a bit less pleasant to realize, for the first time, that some of the men were looking at me that way, too ... and, as I looked back, I knew that they always had, too, and perhaps even more often because they, unlike the women, had always been able to catch Daniel's eye. Men like Jon Zuckerman, for example. But not tonight. Daniel wasn't paying attention to any of them. The women didn't interest him, and he was too much in love with Fox to respond to any of the inquiring looks from the men. No, tonight he was mine alone, and in a very strange way, for the first time ever. Not that I would have him all to myself, of course. Dr. Andy McNeill, Daniel's old friend from Harvard Medical School, and his wife, Judy -- his second wife, but why be catty? -- had met up with us at the gate. I liked Andy all right, but Judy made me a little crazy. She'd always had the hots for Daniel, especially when he was in uniform, and she'd never been too shy about showing it. You'd think that uniform was a big cloth vibrator with ribbons on it, the way she acted. I suppose I shouldn't blame her. A lot of women get that same feeling around Navy officers ... you may have heard what they say about gold wings and a white uniform, and it seems to work with flight surgeon's wings just as well as it does with aviator's wings. Anyway, if there's a more astonishingly gorgeous sight than Daniel Reilly in white mess uniform, I haven't seen it. We were having a pleasant enough time, though. Andy and Daniel were catching up on old classmates, Judy was running her eyes up and down Daniel's body like she was planning to fit him for a body stocking and I was just walking along, enjoying the warmth of Daniel under my hand when I felt his arm drop to his side and saw his right hand go up in a crisp salute. "Good evening, sir," he said to a short, stocky one-star admiral who was also wearing medical insignia. I thought I recognized him, but I wasn't quite sure. "Oh, I just love to see him do that," Judy murmured in my ear. "Don't you?" Oh, for God's sake, Judy, it's just a fucking salute, not foreplay. I tried to smile. "Commander," the admiral said, returning the salute, and, nodding in my direction, added, "ladies. Fine night for a steel beach picnic, eh?" "Yes, sir," Daniel said. "Although I think the Mercy's flight deck may be a little small for anything very elaborate." "Well, she may not be the George Washington, commander, but she does all right," the admiral said, smiling back. "Heard you acquitted yourself very well there, by the way." "The entire crew did, sir," Daniel said. "I just gave the flu shots. Sir, do you know Dr. McNeill?" I looked up quickly at Daniel's rather abrupt change of subject. It definitely wasn't the recommended method of making conversation with a rear admiral, and Daniel was normally more than adept at that sort of thing. On the other hand, he was always uncomfortable talking about himself; still, he was usually more tactful in steering the conversation elsewhere. The admiral, however, didn't seem put off by it. "Don't believe we've met," he said. "Commander, would you make the introductions?" "It would be my pleasure, sir," Daniel said. "Admiral, may I present Dr. Andy McNeill of Chicago and his wife Judy? Dr. McNeill, Rear Admiral Jack Crandall, commander of Naval Medical Center, San Diego. Dr. McNeill is an orthopedic trauma specialist at Cook County Hospital, admiral. We were classmates in medical school. And I believe you know Jill, sir." "Of course I do," Admiral Crandall said. "And you know my wife Mary, of course. Wonderful to see you again, Mrs. Reilly. Know you're glad to have your husband back ashore, eh?" There it was: The moment of truth. I smiled politely. "I'm always relieved when Daniel comes back from a deployment, admiral," I said, "and I'm always happy to see him again, but we're not actually married any longer. We're still the very best of friends, though." To say that the next few moments were awkward would be a very large understatement. Only Judy made a sound -- kind of a strangled gasp. I couldn't tell if she was shocked or gleeful, although I suspected it was the latter. Mrs. Crandall, however, was the first to actually speak. "You're ... not married, Mrs. Reilly?" she said, but there was just a hint of something in her voice that told me what she really wanted to say was, "OK, girlfriend, let's hear it, all of it, and don't leave anything out." Of course, she was far too polite to say it aloud. I liked her already. "No, ma'am, not any longer," I said. "We've been divorced for a little over four years." When the silence continued, I added, "It's a long story, Mrs. Crandall. A very long story." "I'd bet next year's income on that," Andy said, still looking from me to Daniel with eyes wide as a full moon. "So are we going to hear any of this long story, or are you just going to leave us standing here wondering why the hell you bothered to get a divorce if you were going to keep dating?" "Why don't we leave that up to the commander and Mrs. Reilly?" the admiral said, as Daniel seemed to be searching for a reply. "It's a fine night, but I believe we're expected at the reception, and we ought not stand here jawjacking, eh, Commander?" "Of course not, sir," Daniel said, offering me his arm again as I flashed a grateful look at the admiral. There was no way I was going to escape Andy and Judy's questions, of course, but even a few minutes time to think about it was going to help. We walked the rest of the way to the ship without much meaningful conversation; Daniel sent Judy into another near-orgasmic swoon when he saluted the officer of the deck and asked permission to come aboard, although she seemed totally unimpressed by the dozen or so officers who saluted when the admiral was rung aboard. It was, to say the least, an interesting evening. The tour of the Mercy was fascinating, of course, at least to me. Daniel had been aboard her before, during Desert Storm, and the officers and crew seemed genuinely delighted to have him as a visitor. I enjoyed the tour, too, although as far as the conference went, I was just along for the ride. Trauma is definitely not my field. The reception was interesting in an entirely different way. It provided ... certain challenges. The officers were marvelous hosts. They danced, they offered to bring drinks to the ladies and they made polite conversation, which wasn't always easy for them, I know. The admiral introduced me to several of them, noting all my Navy connections, and I was welcomed as one of the family and even got to dance a few times. As the evening wore on, however, and the civilian guests grew louder and more boisterous, even the most polite officers seemed to consider themselves dismissed and withdrew to the starboard side of the flight deck. That left me out, but that was fine with me. Mrs. Crandall wasn't dancing anymore, either; she was sitting at one of the small tables near the stern sipping a drink. I asked if I could join her, which seemed to please her a great deal. She was still bursting with curiosity, but still polite, making small talk about San Diego's weather, what a wonderful ship the Mercy was, about her father and how she'd just found out that he'd served with Daniel's grandfather toward the end of WWII. She was being so nice, in fact, that I decided to take pity on her and tell her just a little bit about Daniel and me, although I would never begin to tell anyone the real story, of course. "I've heard about Daniel's grandfather," I said, casually, twirling the little umbrella from my drink. "I never met him, though. He was shot down over Korea in 1952. There have been quite a few war widows in the Reilly clan; I think Daniel is the first to divorce, though." "Oh, yes," Mrs. Crandall said, trying not to sound too eager. "You mentioned that earlier. I think it's lovely that the two of you have remained such good friends. That's not often the case, is it?" "No, I suppose not," I said, suppressing a smile. "But Daniel is worth the effort, Mrs. Crandall." "I'd imagine he's saying the same thing about you right now, Mrs. Reilly," she said, smiling warmly. "I'd love to know how a man earns that kind of devotion." Oh, she was good; a master, really. It's not always easy to win someone's confidence when you have to observe protocol and rank, but she was going to do it or die. "So would I," came a voice from behind me. "So spill it." I turned around: It was Judy. Damn. Judy had no idea of the protocol that Navy families observe. She just wanted answers, and she didn't care what an admiral's wife thought about her. I never thought I'd miss all that, either, but I was discovering that evening that I actually did. There was something satisfying in navigating those social waters, in making and keeping friends despite the care you had to take not to overstep when their spouses outranked yours, not to condescend when yours outranked theirs, to find someone with whom you could share a little gossip or a few confidences without being indiscreet or going too far. It was an art, a delicate and difficult art, and I could already tell that Mary Crandall was a real artist. Now, I'd probably never get to see her in action. What was even more annoying, however, was knowing that Judy wasn't going to be put off easily if she asked a question I didn't want to answer. "Judy, I didn't know you were there," I said, trying to hide my irritation. "What is it you want to talk about?" "Oh, don't give me that, Jill Reilly," Judy said, pulling her chair closer. "You know exactly what I want to talk about. I want to know what in the hell possessed you to let go of one of the great hunks of the western world, that's what. What the hell happened? I always thought you two were so happy together." "Now, Mrs. McNeill," Mrs. Crandall murmured. "I'm sure Mrs. Reilly doesn't care to discuss such personal matters." "I really don't," I said, a little coolly, but I sent a quick smile Mrs. Crandall's way to let her know that I appreciated her tact. "Daniel is a wonderful man, Judy. I think the world of him, and I'll always regret that our marriage didn't work out. It wasn't a decision we arrived at lightly, I promise you." That answer would have been more than enough for Mrs. Crandall or any other woman with half her sensibilities, but Judy McNeill wasn't one of those women. She was after something else. In fact, I was pretty sure that what she was hoping to hear was that Daniel wasn't averse to a little adultery, in hopes, perhaps, that he'd be willing to indulge in it again. She just wasn't going to come right out and ask me if Daniel had cheated on me; no, Miss Judy had another plan of attack in mind. "So what was it?" Judy said, arching her eyebrows at me. "Another man? I nearly choked. You betchum, Red Rider, I thought, struggling fiercely not to laugh. Lots of 'em. If you only knew. They were major hunks, too, from what I gathered. Well ... except for Jon. But I had already gathered that theirs was a more ... emotional relationship. I think Mrs. Crandall mistook my strangled expression for distress, though; she looked around quickly, and then smiled brightly. "Oh, Jack?" she called out, beckoning toward Daniel, who was talking to the admiral and the Mercy's commanding officer. "Dear, you've got to let us have Commander Reilly for a while now. You've monopolized him long enough, and we're feeling dreadfully ignored over here." Daniel turned, and looked at me, and smiled. Then he turned back to the admiral. "That sounded like an order," he said. "By your leave, sir?" "I never argue with Mrs. Crandall, commander," the admiral said. "By all means, go keep the ladies company. I'll never hear the end of it if you don't." "Aye, aye, sir," Daniel said, smiling, as he gave a polite nod, first to the admiral and then to the captain, then turned and walked toward us. That's when it began. I watched him every step of the way, his nearness making me feel alive, on edge, excited, as though we were both charged with a million volts of electricity and I was just waiting until the lightning bolt slashed through the air between us. I felt so many things as I watched him: pride as the junior officers snapped to attention at his approach, pleasure at his polite nod and his quiet "as you were" ... sadness as I noticed again the sprinkling of gray hair at his temples... and a deep respect as I looked at the row of medals on his jacket and read in them the story of what he had done for his country, of how he had gone where the fighting was and served there with honor and courage. I felt all that ... and I felt pain, as always, that he wasn't mine anymore. And yet he was mine ... still my Daniel. There were so many things I never knew about him, and yet in spite of that, he'd always been my Daniel, and I loved him even when I didn't understand him. Always. Even in the worst days, when I screamed into my pillow and cursed him in the foulest language I could think of, I loved him. I heard Dana call him "my Daniel" once, and I suppose in a way, he is. They've shared a great deal, and I know he loves her dearly. He belongs to Fox, of course, and in a way that he never belonged to me. They are so deeply in love, and they've gone through so much to be together ... Daniel has lost so much, and has so much more to lose for loving as he does, and yet he loves Fox so much, and with such gratitude. That's Daniel ... that's how he is. It was strange to be sitting there at that moment, in that place, thinking about Daniel and Fox, and yet in a way it didn't seem strange at all. There was such sweetness in seeing him so happy, sharp sweetness flavored with the never-ending pain of having lost him ... Daniel was as handsome and as loving as ever, and he was so beautiful, so tall and strong, standing on the deck of a Navy ship which, to me, is where he has always belonged. His hand was resting gently on my shoulder, and he was looking at me tenderly through eyes that had seen too much and wept too little. Yes, he was beautiful that night ... and yet he was beautiful, too, as I saw him in my mind, sitting on the porch swing at Martha's Vineyard, his arms around Fox and his lips pressed into his lover's hair ... I still loved him; more, perhaps, than I ever had. But now, I knew it wasn't only for what he was to me. Now, and forevermore, I loved Daniel Reilly for what he was.
END "The Eighth Side of the Triangle"(18/?) by Susan Jameson (DrBarnBarn@aol.com)