Earth Bound (30 page)

Parsons’s focus had shifted to the paper. He was inspecting her work, which was probably necessary. “This all looks good,” he said after a few beats.

“We have no way to know if it’s right. If Jack can finish coding the very last bit in the next hour, we can run it through a quick simulation, but we might not have time to find or fix any errors. And I know Henkins doesn’t trust the data we’re sending. He and Dunsford would rather have two attempts at docking manually.”

Parsons made a face. “The astronauts never trust the equipment.”

“Well, they have a good reason to be skeptical today.” The engineers hadn’t proved themselves on this mission—at least the ones from outside ASD hadn’t.

“Reason has nothing to do with it,” Parsons said with a dismissive wave of his hand. “They’d be skeptical even if the unmanned capsule hadn’t started drifting, even if its radar were functioning perfectly. They think only pilots can do anything.”

This conversation was taking longer than she’d anticipated, and Charlie found she could hardly stand anymore. She took a few steps and pitched herself onto his small couch. That was better. She was so damn tired.

She couldn’t bring herself to look at him. She didn’t want to know what he thought about her exhaustion.

Keeping her eyes closed, she slid one of her heels off and began rubbing her foot. “You realize this means we’re going to have to rethink the entire communication and navigation systems. If the computer on the unmanned capsule could get so confused, it means we’re going to have to develop an Earth-based backup system, which is complicated enough for something that’s more or less staying in place. But for the moon shot… Jesus.”

Parsons grunted.

Charlie peeked at him through her lashes. He was still reading her notes.

She curled her bare foot under her and took off her other shoe. She stifled a groan. That felt so much better.

She closed her eyes and nestled into the cushions. The thing might look like he’d rescued it from a dumpster, but it was comfortable.

“I should get one of these. That desk chair of mine isn’t designed for eighteen-hour work days.” She lolled her head to the side. She needed ten minutes to close her eyes.

She heard Parsons stand. There was a click as he switched off the lamp. His feet sounded on the floor, and he covered her with his jacket. “Get some rest.”

She pushed up onto her elbows. “There’s no time. I have to get back and help Jack.”

She could see Parsons’s profile in the light from the hallway, but she couldn’t make out his expression. “You’re no help to him when you’re this tired. Shut your eyes and try to sleep for a bit. I’ll go tell Jack you’re going to take a nap. When you wake up, you’ll be refreshed enough to check his work. We’re never going to do this right if everyone is too tired to get through the calculations. This place is turning into
Invasion of the Body Snatchers
.”

That made a certain sort of sense. She relaxed and tugged the jacket over her shoulders. “You’ll wake me in fifteen minutes?”

“I’ll let you sleep as long as possible, until they’re done with the code.”

She pointed at him from under his jacket. “Don’t scare my staff. Don’t stand there over their shoulders, watching as they finish. You’ll make them freeze.”

She could hear what he did with his hands in response, and in spite of the stress and exhaustion, she smiled at his rude gesture, at being with him like this again.

“Why does everyone think I’m scary?” he demanded.

“Because you are.” Not that he’d ever scared her. Hurt her, yes. But frightened her? No. When you got down to it, he had a soft core, as everyone did. He did a better job of hiding it, that was all.

“Just get some rest,” he said as he walked across the room.

“Will you make some fresh coffee too?”

He didn’t answer, merely closed the door on his way out. She wasn’t going to be able to sleep, she was certain, but she could rest her eyes.

Her last thought was how his jacket and couch smelled of soap and spice, precisely like his aftershave. Then she didn’t think at all for a while.

Charlie was asleep on his couch.

Parsons stood in the doorway of his office, reluctant to wake her. He had to, he knew—but this was the first time he’d ever seen her sleep. And this was the closest she’d ever come to sleeping in his bed.

She was still under his suit jacket, her legs curled beneath it. But it wasn’t quite long enough to cover all of her, and her stockinged feet peeped out. The sight was as endearing as hell. And painful, too.

Working so closely with her again was exhilarating and exciting… and agonizing. He wasn’t certain how long he could keep battling the potent mix of emotions her proximity roused in him, to keep the detachment necessary to save this mission. But there was no time to worry about that—he’d deal with it after the rendezvous.

He shut the door and set the sandwich plate and coffee he was carrying on his desk, the china chiming against the wood. She didn’t stir.

Two hours of sleep after eighteen hours awake were hardly enough. He’d rather do anything than disturb her, but he had no choice.

He set a hand on her shoulder, but she didn’t wake. “Hey,” he said softly, giving her a gentle shake. “Hey.”

He didn’t want to call her Charlie—he thought he’d lost that privilege—but it would pain him to go back to Dr. Eason, alone as they were.

She opened her eyes slowly, and for one half of a heart-stopping moment, she might have even smiled at him. But then she was pushing up onto an elbow and swinging her feet down to the floor.

She put a hand to her hair, ducking her head, and he stepped back to give her some space.

“Did I sleep long?”

“Not as long as you should have. But Jack finished, and Dave is running the code through the simulator.”

She hid a yawn behind her hand. “I'll be fine. After all, you don’t sleep.”

“I do. I only make it seem like I don’t.”

She stretched her arms above her head, her back arching and her toes curling up off the floor as she shook off the last of her sleepiness. “Your secret’s safe with me.”

Their gazes held. There were so many secrets between them: Their own and the ones they’d created together.

He reached for the plate on the desk. “I brought you a sandwich. Heavy on the jelly. Took it from Keller this time.”

“He’ll be angry.” But she accepted the plate from him.

“I’ll take all the blame.” He settled into the chair closest to the sofa, his fingers drumming against the arms.

She took a bite, then sighed with contentment. Once she’d swallowed, she asked, “Aren’t you eating?”

He shook his head. Food didn’t sound appealing at all.

“How much weight have you lost?”

He blinked at her. “I’ve lost weight?”

The sandwich paused halfway to her mouth. “Don’t you ever look at yourself in the mirror?”

“There’s not much to see.” In truth, since she’d left, he’d learned the art of shaving without looking—
truly
looking—into his own eyes. He hadn’t seen himself in months now.

He had been careful not to look at her, either. If he couldn’t see her and he couldn’t see himself, then he could ignore the wreckage of their relationship spread throughout his life.

He held up his hands and examined them, the tendons stark and the knuckles hard knots. “I suppose I have lost some.” With his luck, he probably looked like a cadaver now.

She tore the sandwich down the middle, peanut butter and jelly gaping from the ragged edge, and offered him half.
 

“I’m not—” he began.

“You need to eat,” she said. “You’re important here, too.”

He took her offering, careful not to brush his fingers against hers. It was only a sandwich she was giving him, nothing more. “Thank you.”

They chewed together in silence. He hadn’t realized how hungry he was until he’d started eating, his stomach churning as he chewed. She took a sip of the coffee and passed him the mug. He didn’t bother to protest, but did take a moment over the smear of red lipstick she’d left on the rim.

“You made a fresh pot,” she said.

“I told you I’d make sure you had everything you need.”

She sucked at a spot of peanut butter on her thumb, those ridiculously full lips wrapped around her knuckle. “You didn’t say everything. You said anything.”

“What
anything
do you need?”

What do you
want?
What do you want me for?

He’d never actually told her. Not once. Oh, he’d said things about wanting her for the mission, for ASD, but when he’d pulled her into that restaurant closet, needing nothing more than to erase her hurts, he’d realized that he wanted her solely for himself.

Perhaps he should have said it, but perhaps it wouldn’t have helped. Certainly in the months after, she’d never once hinted that she missed their meetings. That she missed him. Never indicated that her world might have turned the same shade of gray as his.

They were alone. He could tell her, quickly, if his nerve was up to it. He’d know for certain then how she truly felt behind that mask of hers.

He parted his lips, cast about for the exact right thing to say, because if it wasn’t perfect, wasn’t enough—

But then she pushed her empty plate away and the moment passed. “I suppose I
need
to check the code,” she said. She fished under the sofa for her shoes. “Thank you for the sandwich and the coffee. And the couch.”

“Don’t mention it.” He meant it—her casual thanks were painful in a way he didn’t want to examine. He rose and without thought, held out a hand to help her up.

Damn. He shouldn’t have done it, but it was too late to pull back.

Too late
described so many disasters in their relationship, really.

She swallowed hard as she stared at it. “Thank you.” She pressed only the very tips of her fingers against his palm.

His heart kicked into overdrive and every inch of his skin crackled with energy, with life. All from that tiny touch of hers.

She snatched her hand away as soon as she could, as if his skin burned her.

He curled his fingers into his palm. Perhaps that was the answer to the question of how she truly felt. Well, he’d wanted to know.

He hadn’t known how much the information would cost him.

Charlie stood in the back of Mission Control, listening to the last part of the braking sequence. If everything went according to plan, the Perseid capsule would dock with the unmanned capsule within five minutes.

Four long banks of computers and display monitors stretched across the room in front of her. Engineers, technicians, and doctors monitored everything from the astronauts’ respiration and blood pressure to how many calories they’d consumed to the last time they’d peed to the amount of fuel in the capsule down to the last half-ounce.

At least, that was what they were
supposed
to know. Charlie wasn’t feeling very confident about electronic computers or long-distance communication systems—even her faith in machines had been taken from her in the past few days.

It was early afternoon in Houston. The lighted map at the front of the room showed the capsule’s approximate position over the earth. The capsule was nearing the edge of a daylight pass. They wanted to get through the docking before it went into darkness.

After the mission’s disasters, Charlie felt numb. Her arms were crossed over her chest, and she rubbed her fingertips together. The friction released some of the tension zinging through her body. The braking sequence was progressing according to plan, but she was braced in case everything fell apart.

At this point, she was expecting it.

When they’d woken the astronauts and explained the plan in the wee small hours, Dunsford and Henkins had made no secret of their discomfort with using the basically untested code for the maneuver. Parsons had handled them, and they’d set about uploading the new programming. It had worked… so far. Now they were within sight of the dummy capsule and closing the gap quickly.

“It’s time for the second yaw,” one of the engineers said over the command link to the astronauts.