You're the one...

It was raining-- again-- and Helena was tired of rain. Of course, she thought, if she got the position she'd just applied for she wouldn't need to worry about that. Lost in thought, she entered the hospital lobby and headed for the elevator. She didn't see the man who backed into her until she ran into his shoulder.

"Watch it!" he said with a distinctly American accent.

At the same time she said, "Excuse me."

"You're American," they both said at once. He reached out to steady her and their eyes met as he touched her elbow. There was an electricity between them. It felt almost like recognition, even though they both knew they had never seen each other before.

"I'm lost, really." John Koenig said with an easy smile. "I came here to visit a friend, but don't know how to find him. "Sorry for running into you."

"That's all right. Just around that corner is the information desk. They can help you find your friend."

"Thanks," he smiled at her again. She stepped toward the opening elevator and his hand dropped from her elbow. Their eyes remained locked until the elevator doors closed.

She stood aboard the elevator. He had the most intense blue eyes she had ever seen, and she could still see his smile. She wondered who he was and who he was visiting. It took a minute to realize that she hadn't selected the floor and she was still on the ground floor. She shook the cobwebs from her head and pressed a button.

John Koenig watched her until the elevator doors closed. Her green eyes held his gaze and he wondered just who she was. She had been wearing a staff id tag, but he hadn't looked at it. Well, Tony had been here a week. Undoubtedly Cellini had already noticed her and could give him a thorough accounting. He glanced above the elevator door as the numbers began to light up. It had taken the elevator a while to start moving. John grinned and headed for the information desk.

Helena sat at her desk looking at her schedule for the day. She reached out for the phone to call information. They would surely remember the tall dark American looking for his friend. Before she could pick up the receiver, the phone rang.

"Dr. Russell," Helena recognized the head nurse from the psychiatric ward. "There's a visitor here for Mr. Cellini. I've tried to explain that Mr. Cellini is not allowed visitors, but he is very insistent. He's asking to speak to someone in charge.

"Please direct him to my office," Helena requested. If this was another reporter she would have this one arrested. Cellini had no immediate family, and his file listed no known next of kin, yet twice in the week he had been here, reporters had identified themselves as Cellini's brother. The lunar commission had worked hard to keep the man out of the spotlight, but it only seemed to make him more mysterious, a hotter commodity.

There was a quick knock on her door and it opened. The man with blue eyes peered in and grinned, "We meet again. You're Dr. Russell?"

"Yes, I am. And I take it your friend is Tony Cellini?"

"Yes, that's right. He and I worked as partners on the Ultra Probe." He pulled out his wallet and produced both a Texas Driver's License and a LRSO picture ID before she could ask for them. Once he handed them to her he sat on the edge of a chair across the desk from her and leaned forward eagerly. "I've been in New York, going over his records since we brought him in, and I haven't had a chance to try to see him until now. Dr. Russell, I'm not here in any official capacity, but he's my friend, and I was just hoping-- hoping that I can see him, let him know he still has a friend."

Dr. Russell looked into Koenig's earnest blue eyes then looked away, finding him too distracting. Tony Cellini certainly needed a friend. The "debriefing" Cellini had gone through seemed to have done as much damage to him as the "accident" and the isolation of the trip back to Earth. Cellini's psychological profile was so far off from his current status Helena was almost tempted to believe it had been fabricated. She couldn't interview family members, so it was possible that a co-worker and close friend might be her best bet. She glanced at the LRSO card in her hand, noting the extremely high clearance level and made a decision.

"Captain Koenig--"

"Call me John," he said with a disarming smile.

She reflexively returned his smile. "John," she corrected. "Tony is very much changed from the man he was before he left Earth. I want to help him, but he has been isolated so long, and then interrogated so thoroughly upon his return, that he resists any attempts to help him."

"Do you-- believe his story?" John asked hesitantly.

Helena relaxed a bit. If John already knew the story it couldn't hurt for him to hear it first hand. "Belief is a strong word. I know he believes it passionately. I'm willing to keep an open mind, but he won't accept that."

"Can I see him?" John asked simply.

"I can arrange that, but I need some cooperation from you."

At his puzzled look she continued. "It should help me to help him-- if you're willing."

"Anything."

"First, I'd like to interview you about your relationship with Tony. What you talked about, what kinds of things you did together, how you worked together. Anything you know from first hand experience about him. Then I'd like for you to see him-- while I'm observing. He already knows he's under constant observation, but he perceives me as being in charge of his case and he is more hostile in my presence, so he will not be informed that I'm in the observation room. After your visit, I'd like to interview you again."

"Is there anything you want me to talk to him about?"

She shook her head. "Not this time, although I might ask you to do this again, if you don't mind."

"Not at all, anything to help Tony."

She smiled at him. This was not a request that she would normally have asked, but she did want to help Cellini and was being pressured to give an accounting to her superiors. She was glad to find that Tony had a friend. He certainly needed one.

"Let me clear my schedule for this morning and we'll get started."

He nodded and sat back in the chair while Helena made a couple of phone calls. Then she pulled a tape recorder from her drawer along with a note pad and they began the interview.

She was thorough and serious. For more than an hour he talked about his friend. Mostly she let him talk. Occasionally she directed a question in a certain area or asked for clarification. He found the chance to talk about his friend gave him some relief from the guilt and concern he had felt over the mission's tragic end. When she called a halt she suggested they have a cup of coffee before he visited his friend. It became obvious that she was trying to prepare him for the changes he would see in his friend. She described the debriefings Tony had undergone. John was angry when she revealed the orders she had received to find some psychological defect that could have caused this tragedy.

"Have you found anything like that?"

"I can't tell. He won't let me close enough to try. His resistance only adds to the commission's case, but he won't listen to me long enough to see my point."

John nodded. "Considering how he's been treated, you can't blame him."

"No, but I also can't help him."

"I'll see what I can do to change that."

They smiled at each other again. Maybe Tony had a chance.

John's visit lasted well into the afternoon. Lunch was delivered for both the patient and the visitor. Tony was pleased to see his friend, but Koenig noticed the changes. Koenig wasn't sure how long Dr. Russell had stayed to listen to their conversation, but after lunch he broached the subject of the lovely doctor.

"I met your doctor this morning."

"Which one?" Tony growled restlessly.

"Dr. Russell."

"Ah, the beautiful doctor who wants to get inside my head. She keeps trying to convince me that she wants to help."

"She's the one who let me see you."

"What was her price?"

"Price?"

"Everyone has a price." Tony looked out the window.

"You didn't used to be so cynical."

"Things change," Tony replied wearily.

"I think she really does want to help, Tony. Why don't you let her?"

Tony seemed to sink inside himself. "No one can help, John. I close my eyes and watch their deaths over and over again like some perverse instant replay, and no one else even believes it happened." Tony looked at him with haunted eyes. "Thanks for coming by, John. It was good to see you again."

It was a dismissal, no doubt about it. John felt as exhausted as if he had just finished a marathon. Being with Tony had always been vitalizing, uplifting. Now he knew it was time to go.

"I'll be back, Tony. Take care." John offered his hand, but Tony was staring out the window, as if John had already departed.

Koenig left the room and leaned against the wall in the hallway, eyes closed. He was badly shaken by the visit. He expected that Dr. Russell would have left the observation room by now to deal with other matters. It surprised him to feel a touch on his arm. He opened his eyes to see Helena standing next to him.

She took his hands in hers. "Are you ok?"

He nodded. "That was-- much harder than I expected it to be." He clung to her hands like a lifeline. The hallway was deserted and he really wanted to put his arms around her, even though he knew that would be far from professional.

"I thought it would be," she said, without giving any indication that she wished him to let go of her hands.

"How much did you hear?"

"Everything."

"You stayed the entire time?"

"Yes. And as much as I want to talk to you about your impressions I've been neglecting my other patients today. It's going to be a while before I can get away."

"To be honest, I think I need some time to collect my thoughts anyway."

"Would you like to use my office for a while? I need to visit several patients, and I have a meeting until late this afternoon. It will probably be seven before I'm able to talk to you."

"Why don't we talk over dinner then? Is there someplace nearby you like to go?"

She smiled. "Well, there's a pub not too far away. The food there has kept me from starving, and it's better than the hospital cafeteria."

"And I could certainly use a beer."

She moved toward the elevator and they were still attached at the hand, so he followed her. "If you want to use my computer to collect your thoughts and write down your impressions of your visit with Tony, you can."

"Are you sure I won't be in the way?"

The elevator opened and they entered. There was no one in there, but they stood close together. She remembered to punch the button for the right floor this time, but she looked into his eyes for a long time before replying. "I won't need the office all afternoon. Stay as long as you like."

He stared at her again, both of them smiling and enjoying the look in each other's eyes. He leaned toward her, and the elevator opened. She walked him to her office, indicated the computer, gathered a clipboard and a couple of files and left. He caught her eyes again just as she slipped out the door, and they exchanged another smile. She certainly had beautiful eyes.

She collected him promptly at seven and they headed for the pub. He went to the bar to place their order then joined her at a small table she had secured in a less crowded corner behind the pool tables. They hadn't spoken of Tony at all, staying with neutral topics like the weather, the food at the pub, the neighborhood they were walking through and how long she had been in London. She told him that she hoped to return to Florida the following month until after Christmas, then she would be back here for another few months. He also found out that she wasn't married or attached to anyone right now. He liked that, and that amazed him. It had been a long time since he had even been interested in that sort of thing.

"So how did you end up in this line of work?" he asked. As soon as he said it he realized that it was probably one of the lamest pick up lines ever used. He might as well have just asked her what her sign was. It had been a long time since he had been interested in anyone, and he seemed to have forgotten how to flirt.

She didn't seem to notice. She took a sip of the Guinness he had brought her and smiled. "Well, I guess it's in my blood. My father was a doctor, and my grandfather. I don't even think I ever considered any other career than being a doctor."

"Of space medicine?"

"Oh, well, I suppose that was my mother's fault. My father was so intent on raising me to be the next doctor in the family it irritated my mother. She wanted to broaden my horizons, so she bought me a telescope when I was about five. It wasn't a cheap little thing either; it was a 10 inch refractor. I suspect she'd always wanted one herself. We would watch the moon, and find things like the Crab Nebula. They were beautiful. I was hooked."

"So you decided to go there?"

"Something like that. I'm still hoping to."

"So you like what you do?"

She smiled, and looked down at her beer, then she leaned forward conspiratorially. He leaned across the little table toward her. Her eyes shone fiercely and she spoke with great passion. "I love it."

His response was so quick it was born more of impulse than rationality. She was so close that he barely had to move forward at all. He pressed his lips softly against her. She leaned into the kiss and her fingers found his on the tabletop. Below the tabletop her leg moved just slightly so that their knees touched. The noisy sounds of the pub around them vanished and for a moment, only the two of them existed. He pulled back only slightly.

"I suppose this isn't very professional of me," she said softly. He could still feel her warm breath against his lips.

He ducked his head, looking at their fingers still entwined together. He cut his eyes up at her and gave her a lopsided smile. "I've had a fairly rotten day so far. I don't feel like being professional right now. Besides," he added. "I've wanted to do that all day."

"Me too," she said with a smile that seemed both shy and eager at the same time.

He leaned forward and kissed her again. She tasted wonderful and touching her fingertips with his own was an incredibly sensual experience. He loved the way it felt.

When he leaned forward and kissed her she felt so completely relaxed with him. It was as if she had always known him. As the kiss ended she realized that she had met this man in a professional capacity. He might not be a patient, but she wasn't sure how ethical her actions were. His response soothed her and she couldn't help but admit that she felt the same way. The second kiss was even more wonderful, and she was glad there was a table separating them because she really wanted to touch him. His lips left hers and he leaned to speak softly in her ear. "Let's go somewhere and be unprofessional with a little more privacy."

She smiled, and her heart beat faster. She had almost forgotten there was anyone else in the pub. "How unprofessional are you planning to be?" she heard herself ask. She was flirting! She hadn't flirted with anyone in years. She was almost surprised she remembered how.

"Very unprofessional."

The feel of his breath against her ear was very distracting. She was almost surprised to hear herself respond, "My flat is only about two blocks away."

He stood, still holding her hand, and they left the table, beers half drunk, food barely touched. Neither was interested in food right now. She led the way and they walked briskly the few blocks to her apartment. They stopped twice for traffic lights and he leaned down and kissed her on the jaw line. She was very anxious to get home. It took a lot of will power to keep her hands from creeping around his neck and losing herself in his amazing blue eyes.

Her flat was on the third floor and she ignored the achingly slow elevator. He didn't hesitate, dashing up the stairs right behind her. She produced the key and concentrated on getting it in the lock quickly. Her hands were shaking-- and not from the exertion of the climb! The door opened and they were finally inside. She shut the door and threw her arms around him feeling somehow triumphant. He grinned and lifted her slightly off the floor, his lips covered hers and they shared a long eagerly awaited kiss. She had the compulsion to press her body as tightly against him as possible, which quickly told her that he was every bit as eager as she was. The sensations left her breathless. His hands pressed against her back and she knew she needed to be rid of her coat. She shrugged slightly and he seemed to read her mind. He pulled it off her shoulders, and without removing his lips from hers he helped her out of the coat. His own coat joined hers on the floor.

Their eyes met again as they came up for air. He gave her a playful grin and she reached up to touch his wonderfully expressive lips. Then she smiled broadly and took his hand. She pulled him through the tiny living room, past an equally tiny kitchen and bath and into her bedroom. She had indulged her whims with this apartment, buying mostly second hand furniture of exceptional quality. The living room was quite modern, with white walls and furniture of steel tubing and black leather, it seemed a bit cold and impersonal. What no on else knew was that she had chosen the apartment because of the bedroom.

The moment she saw the bedroom she knew this was the place for her. It was paneled in a dark carved wood with built-in bookshelves along one wall. She had found an antique four poster mahogany bed, a comfortable armchair and matching ottoman, found linens and draperies of dark green and gold and maroon. She lived in this room. It contained her books, computer, stereo, TV, telephone. It was very home-like to her, making her comfortable, helping her to relax. As soon as John walked into the room it felt like home. He took in the room and grinned at her. She knew at once that he felt it too. He put his arms around her and lifted her off the floor. She laughed as he swung her around, pulled the comforter back and deposited her on the bed.

She wanted to feel his skin against hers with a fevered desperation. She wanted to spend all night long touching him. She wanted to be very unprofessional.

"Helena," he whispered softly into her ear. She had never heard anything sound more sensual. The word was filled with an aching need that she felt in every fiber of her being, and as if they were telepathically linked she knew he felt it too. As he began to unbutton her blouse, she gave up thinking and enjoyed simply feeling.

The next morning John woke early as was his habit. Helena lay next to him, curled on her side. She looked young and vulnerable in her sleep. Her hair was tousled, no longer perfectly coiffed. She was no longer wearing makeup. He vaguely remembered her getting up briefly in the middle of the night. Most of the previous night was pleasantly hazy. He hadn't had enough beer to be even slightly intoxicated, but being with Helena had been intoxicating enough by itself.

Her eyelashes were a dark reddish blonde. With her hair a frosted blond color he'd been surprised to find she was a natural blond, a bit of a strawberry blonde. He wondered idly if there were any redheads in her family. He had commented on her natural blonde hair last night during an interlude in their lovemaking, with him in exploratory mode; his hands and lips exploring her most sensitive spots, mentally mapping them for future reference.

"So why do you color your hair?" he asked. It might be one of those questions you should never ask a woman, but he knew she wouldn't mind.

She ran her fingers through his dark hair and shifted slightly so that he could more easily reach the spot he was aiming for. She gasped as he kissed her longingly in a particularly wonderful area. "I can't think straight enough to answer if you're going to do that, John."

He pushed himself up on hands and knees, enjoying the sight of her body below him, and losing himself in her eyes. She had beautiful eyes. She smiled as he waited expectantly. "I suppose it was to look older, a little more authoritative. It seemed to help others take me more seriously."

He moved up her body until their faces were close together. "Like that living room out there? The face you show to the world?"

She raked her fingers down his chest and laughed, "I didn't think you had time to even notice the living room."

"I'm very observant."

"So I've found." Her hands moved up and down his body. "I suppose it's something like that. I don't let many people inside me."

The double entendre was not lost on him and he smoothly accomplished the action she alluded to. "I'm glad to hear that."

"I like to maintain my privacy."

"I'm glad you let me in," he said with a grin.

"Any time," she murmured and used an extremely effective silencing technique.

He slipped carefully out of bed and looked around for his pants. Their clothing was spread in a scatter pattern around the bed. He gathered up both his clothing and hers and sorted them out onto the armchair, pulling on his pants. His stomach was growling. He remembered that they hadn’t finished supper. He found the kitchen and inspected the contents of the tiny refrigerator. It contained soda, milk, and a variety of fresh vegetables. He located a carton of egg substitute, selected some of the vegetables and a piece of cheese and found a frying pan. He also started a pot of coffee.

A movement in his peripheral vision caught his eye, and he turned to find her watching him. She was wearing a thin and faded USC football jersey and nothing else. It was very distracting. "Good morning. I was going to bring you breakfast in a minute."

"I woke up smelling the coffee. I'm not used to being pampered like this."

"What time do you go on duty today?" John asked, turning the omelet.

She smiled at the military sound of the term. "Actually, I have the weekend off. That's one of the reasons I had to wrap several things up yesterday before I could leave."

"The whole weekend?"

"The whole weekend." They grinned at each other. John had an incredible urge to remove the pan from the heat and carry her back to bed, but they'd practically skipped dinner last night. A delay of a few minutes would only add to the anticipation.

"Do you have any plans?" he asked cautiously.

She pulled two plates from a cabinet and presented them to him, then pulled out two coffee mugs and poured coffee for them. "Well, no definite plans, but something did come up last night that I wouldn't mind experiencing again." She cut her eyes at him as she carried the coffee to the small table in the dining area.

The temptation to skip breakfast grew even stronger, and John had to fight to remain controlled. Breakfast couldn't take too very long, after all. "I would be more than happy to assist any way I could."

"I'm counting on it," she said seductively.

He divided the omelet and placed it on the two plates and put them on the table. Then he sat next to her and leaned forward for a kiss. She placed her hand against his throat and caressed him as they kissed. She pulled away reluctantly. "Breakfast smells wonderful. I’m surprised you found anything to cook with."

"You’ve about reached the limit of my culinary skills with this, I’m afraid."

"I’ll do supper then, but we’ll have to go pick up a few things."

"Later?" John suggested.

"Much later," she agreed.

After breakfast they spent the morning much the same way they had spent the last evening. They did talk at length about a number of topics, including how John might help Tony Cellini recover. Around noon they dressed and left the apartment to find the ingredients for the dinner she’d promised. Helena was enjoying the feeling of easy companionship John’s presence engendered. She reveled in John’s playful teasing and couldn’t remember the last time she had laughed so much. They returned to the apartment with two bags of groceries and a plan for supper. Helena looked forward to cooking for him. It had been a long time since there’d been anyone around to cook for.

They had barely set the bags down when the telephone rang. She picked up the receiver with more than a little dread. She never got personal calls here in London.

John unpacked the groceries and sorted things out for cooking. He’d had the most marvelous day. Helena was beautiful, intelligent, and fun to be with. It had been a long time since he’d felt this comfortable with a woman. He’d even told her about Jean. Helena had made him smile and had laughed at his jokes.

He saw her frown as she lifted the receiver and watched her face grow more serious as she listened to the voice at the other end. She spoke very little, but finally said, "Of course, I’ll be right there. No, don’t. I’ll take care of that." She hung up the phone and turned to him. Something was wrong.

"What is it?" he asked.

She took his hands and sat him down at the small table. "John, Tony tried to commit suicide about an hour ago."

"No! Helena, he wouldn’t—" John clung to her hands.

"The man you knew before he left wouldn’t, I agree. But the man he is now—"

"No, he couldn’t!"

"I need to go in to the hospital."

"Of course. I’ll come too."

"John. Depending on his condition, I may not allow you to see him." She hadn’t let go of his hands but John could feel the pretty young woman he had spent the last day with slipping away and the professional returning.

"You don’t think my visit caused this?"

She looked away from him. "I don’t know. I don’t think so, but right now I can’t say."

His mouth was dry. She wasn’t looking into his eyes anymore. He felt lost.

"I need to change. I can tell you more after I examine him."

John nodded and reluctantly released her hands. She stood and vanished into the bedroom. He spent the time storing the items they’d selected for supper, making sure the meat and vegetables were in the small refrigerator.

She returned in a business suit, her manner distant. He helped her into her coat and they silently left the apartment.

At the hospital she led him to her office and he asked if he could use her telephone. She gave a quick assent and left.

It was more than two hours before she made her way back to her office. She got off the elevator and nearly ran into John. He took her shoulders and pulled her aside. "How is he?"

She shook her head. "Angry, and deeply depressed. I’ve been trying to decrease his medication. It was a mistake."

"Did my visit… cause this?"

"No, no it didn’t." She could be very sure of that. "I had prescribed an oral sleeping medication. He’s been virtually unable to sleep since coming here. He’s been hoarding them and waiting for an opportunity to take an overdose. Fortunately, my staff was alert enough to stop him."

"Helena, that is so unlike him."

"I know. Thanks to you, I do know that. I can’t let you see him today—"

"Then I won’t be able to for a while. I’m needed back in New York. In fact, you just caught me. There’s a car waiting downstairs. I have less than an hour to catch my flight."

Helena looked into his eyes. She didn’t want him to leave like this.

"I wish I could stay," he added. "But I need to get back to work. I left my email address and phone number on your desk. And I’ll call you the first chance I get."

She nodded and blinked hard, trying to make sure her feelings didn’t show. "Of course."

"Please let me know if there’s anything I can do for Tony. Perhaps we can arrange for me to call him."

"Yes, I’ll see what I can do." She tried to maintain her professional demeanor. John hadn’t mentioned last night or this morning at all.

Before she could say more he leaned down and brushed his lips against hers. "I’ve got to go. I’ll call you soon."

She nodded and he stepped aboard the elevator. Her eyes met his as the door slid shut and she raised her hand in a farewell wave. It seemed to take the elevator forever to move. She headed for her office, wondering whether she would see John Koenig again.

John leaned against the back of the elevator. He hated the orders he had received, recalling him so abruptly. He had wanted to see Tony again, and he didn’t want to leave Helena like this. Neither were excuses the Commissioner would want to hear and John had not voiced them. He wondered how he could make it up to her. When the doors opened a young man was waiting for him with a briefcase. "Mr. Koenig?"

"Yes."

"Here’s the packet of material the commissioner sent for you. The car is this way."

John was opening the packet before he got to the car. Once more he became absorbed in his work, and pushed his personal life aside.

Maureen J. Long

December 1999