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I crossed my arms over my chest and stared out the window, not making eye contact.
"You done?" Dean asked.
I nodded.
"Harding and Pratt are tellin' everyone that Winchester heard you and Bryan goin' at it all night long and that you scream loudly when you..."
I arched my brow at him.
"You know what I mean, Mouse," he said blushing.
I let out a long breath of air and uncrossed my arms. Damn them. Damn them to hell and back.
"I'm sorry I didn't find you sooner," I said softly, "and explain what happened. I assumed you would figure it out." I looked at them both. "When have I ever shown any interest in Fawkes?"
Sally looked as pale as a ghost. I couldn't begin to imagine what her emotions were like, right now. One moment, she's angry at Fawkes for palming her off onto Jack. The next she's mourning his death. Not two seconds after that, another Fawkes appears; not hers, but in every conceivable way, he might as well be. And then Harding and Pratt decide to have some fun at my expense, causing Sally unimagined turmoil all over again.
"If it helps," I offered, "I'd be happy to kick Harding and Pratt's arses."
Dean let out a laugh. Sally snorted softly.
"Bloody fucking bollocks," she finally said. "They did it again, didn't they."
"Not your fault, Sal," Dean said staunchly.
"No, not your fault," I agreed.
"Not yours either, Mouse," Dean offered.
I just shook my head and stared out the window at the scudding clouds.
A knock sounded out on the door, then. The correct sequence of knocks to gain entrance.
"Please, don't say a word," Sally rushed to say. "I'd rather he didn't know about..." Her voice trailed away, replaced by a blush.
"My lips are sealed," I said. "But if you ever want to talk about it, you know where to find me."
She nodded and stood up, moving to the window on the far side of the room, as far away from the door, and Bryan, and possibly me. Anger swept through me, but I forcibly pushed it away. If Rafe and Bryan saw me riled up, they'd ask why. And I would not betray Sally. Not now, not ever. Especially, not now.
I felt guilty about something I didn't actually do. But I couldn't help feeling that Ishouldhave anticipated this outcome. The stares, the whispers, the judgement. Of course, Pratt and Harding would use it against me. And of course, bruised and heartbroken Sally wouldn't be able to stop herself from reacting to it.
Dean let Bryan and Rafe in, and we were suddenly all there. The five musketeers. The whole of our rebel army. Well, not all of them. There was Jack, and probably Amanda — locked away in her room, no doubt — and maybe a few others we could call on for support when the time came.
But for now, this was it. And Sally was a Novitiate, so grounded; Bryan and I were suspended for a little over forty-eight hours now, and Dean was just a mechanic. That left Rafe in the hot seat and as yet, Rafe hadn't been assigned a new Flight Surgeon. At least, he could get into Dispatch.
"So," I said, looking at everyone.
Bryan looked lazily around the room from where he was leaning against a wall and said, "Somethin' happen in here we should know about?"
"No!" Sally, Dean and I all blurted together.
"Really?" said Rafe, settling back in his chair as if he was about to watch a much-anticipated show.
"Nothing happened," I said. "Rafe, did Bryan bring you up to speed with Jack?"
Sally's blush deepened, and Bryan homed in on it like a freaking bird of prey. Rafe took pity on her and said, "Yep. Bet his cogs are turning."
"Whatever he's doing," I said, "he's not communicating with me about it."
