Tyr's Lament

Her name was Vanessa Williams.

That was the name of the woman I was recalling while my hostess did my hair during my first gaming session so long ago. It was funny; I didn’t even remember ever spending any time in Jordan, Iowa as a child, but apparently, the best foster home I ever lived in was there. And her braiding skills had been on par with the woman I lived with during my time in Canada.

Unlike the famous singer, however, this Vanessa was beaten to death one lonely Thursday night by her drunken husband who was long dead for his crime. When I was sent back into the foster care system, she was two months pregnant. She didn’t last a month without me to draw William’s wrath.

“Interesting reading, Mr. Lattimore,” a familiar voice said over my shoulder. Calling up my codes to put the file away, I turned from the haunted eyes of the only woman I’d ever deemed worthy of the title “Mom.”

“Hey doc, how are things?” I said, gesturing to the chair on the other side of my desk. Before I met my hostess, I’d considered Dr. Cillian a necessary evil. With his British accent and downright jolly disposition, he’d annoyed me to no end. But now I’d come to appreciate his approach somewhat.

That didn’t mean I had to like his meddling.

“I’m just doing my usual rounds, ensuring that all of my charges are reasonably sane,” the man said easily. I was on my guard at once.

“I was discharged from psych two months ago,” I said. “I don’t need your help anymore.”

“Well just because I’ve deemed you fit for service doesn’t mean you can’t do without a word of friendly advice every now and again,” the man said reasonably, dark brown eyes twinkling.

“And what word do you have for me today?” I asked warily. It had been two months since I’d been cleared for active duty and yet I was still on paper chases and number-crunching duty. It was making me antsy. On the plus side, my schedule was as regular as clockwork. My me time was full of exercise; I was in the best shape of my life, every muscle on me rippling to perfection. If Landi could see me now, she’d—

Cutting off that thought ruthlessly, I rejoined the conversation. “Listen, doc. I appreciate the house call and everything. But I’m finished for the day.”

“And what do you plan to do with the rest of your day?” the man asked.

“I was planning to hit the gym, maybe meditate afterward,” I answered with a shrug. It wasn’t as if it was a secret how I spent my time these days. Hell, there were fan girls who followed me daily just to watch me sweat.

“Correct me if I’m wrong, but a Friday night used to involve quite a bit of carousing, didn’t it?”

“My time is my own to do with what I will,” I said harshly.

“Of course, and no one is denying that fact,” the man hurried to say. “But… Well, your habits have changed so drastically in the last few months. People are starting to notice, Tyr.”

“What people?” I wondered whether my partner Jeffrey or my boss Kaitlyn had put the man up to this. Right then, I felt the urge to punch the man in his doughy middle for interfering.

“People that have a say in whether you ever get back in the field again.” Bradley confirmed it was my boss with a sigh. “I’m not saying she has a right to worry about you. But your boss seems very interested in your time away from the office.”

“If she’s so damn curious, then she can damn well get her scrawny ass down here and ask me,” I shouted, making sure I was facing the latest bug she’d put in my office.  Why was anyone’s guess.  It’s not like I talked to myself and I rarely had visitors.

“Funny, you didn’t used to think my ass was scrawny, lover.” I didn’t have to look up to know I was now in the presence of the queen bitch herself. The woman who had recruited me almost sixteen years ago into the spy organization we worked for, The Omega Agency. Kaitlyn McDonough.

“That’ll be all, doctor,” the woman said, that straitlaced Irish-trying-to-be-English accent barely penetrating the deep freeze my body language created.

The doctor headed toward the door like a man reprieved just before the noose tightened, casting nervous glances between the two of us as he went. Once at the doorjamb, however, he seemed to remember himself and turned back around.

“If I may—”

“You may not. We attempted things your way and it did not work out. Now it’s my turn.”

“Very well,” he said, his tone saying louder than words could that he felt she was making a mistake. He wisely closed the door behind him.

“Right then. Let’s get this over with,” the redhead said as soon as she was sure we were alone. She started unbuttoning her shirt without a preamble.

“What are you doing?” I asked, honestly confused.

“What does it look like?” she asked in annoyance. “You need a good, hard fuck to forget whatever strumpet you picked up in Canada. Get over here. It’s time to get back to work.”

“I don’t need a screw, Kaitlyn. I need a case to clear,” I said evenly, making no move to undress or obey her order. The look on her face was priceless. I usually allowed her to command me when she came to me like this. It got her hot to think she could control me. Now standing in her silky lingerie, she finally seemed to realize that I was never that easy to compel.

“We’ll talk about your caseload after we deal with you,” she said carefully, stepping up to me with a slink in her walk that I frankly found boring. Remembering a pair of jean-clad hips swaying in innocent seduction, I quelled my sudden erection and focused on the woman currently throwing herself at me.

“There’s nothing to deal with. I’m ready to be back in the field, Kaitlyn. I’ve been ready for two months; even the Director says I’m in the best physical condition of my life. I don’t want a piece of ass. I’m chomping at the bit to start righting wrongs aga  in.”

For a moment I mused that I was speaking in half-truths, much like someone else. But I crushed the idle thought just as quickly and ruthlessly as all thoughts of her. Unfortunately, the thoughts always came back, a sweet torture that I couldn’t destroy completely no matter how hard I tried.

“You’re so cold lately,” Kaitlyn said softly, tracing my muscled forearm and using the closest pouting voice she could muster. “You were always an enigma, Tyr, but now you’re like a block of ice. No one can talk to you, no one can get anything out of you. We should—”

“If no one can get anything out of me, then that means I’m ready for duty,” I said, refusing to be deterred. “The Director has been asking why I’m not being put to the best possible use. Hell, I think he’d be satisfied with me working easy, local cases rather than staying as a desk jockey. If you don’t want the choice taken out of your hands, you’d better make the call. Oh, and this,” I added, finally addressing her state of undress, “isn’t happening. I’m not in the mood for your games.”

She looked shocked; it was deeply satisfying. I’d never outright rejected her. I’d never said no at all.

“Tyr… Can’t you think of someone besides yourself for once?” she asked, sounding slightly panicked at my rejection. “I’ve been waiting for you to come around for months now, but you’ve never come to me. You never come to me. So, I swallowed my pride and here I am, all ready for you. At least consider my—”

“I have considered. I’m off the clock and I’m not interested. I’m also late for the gym. Goodnight.”

“What the hell did that skank do to you up there?” she called after me, looking hurt. “Seven weeks with her and you suddenly can’t get it up?”

“I get it up just fine,” I replied casually, thinking of the many nights and sweaty dreams I’d had after sweeping my place for bugs. “Just not with you. You’re right; I’ve never come to you. Not once. Not even before my incident. What does that say about our relationship, Kaitlyn?”

“You think you can just speak to me like that?” The woman growled in a rage. “I am your boss. I decide what’s in your job description—”

“And how exactly do you intend to explain that to the Director?” I asked. I smirked at her look of disbelief and anger. “I’m ready to go over your head to get an assignment, Kaitlyn. Either give me something to work with, something real, or I’ll get myself assigned. I’ve passed every test, mental and physical, you’ve thrown at me. And you’re right about one thing. It’s time I got back to work.” I left her standing there, half-naked in the middle of my office and stinking of thwarted desire. It was the best decision I’d made all week.

…  …

I was out in the field within seventy-two hours of my conversation with Kaitlyn. Bashing in a local tough’s head with my bare hands, I ducked bullets and threw an ashtray with wicked accuracy at the gunman. His yelp was quickly cut off as I snapped his neck. That was the last of them. “Thanks for the help, Jeff,” I called out to the man currently drinking whiskey in a corner booth of the bar and looking for all the world like he didn’t hear the sirens in the distance.

“Hey, who am I to interrupt you when you’re venting your frustration on a group of gang bangers?” He chuckled with a gaudy salute that most would have mistaken for drunken.

“I’m not frustrated,” I said in annoyance.

“Sure you’re not.” The man laughed. “That’s why you just murdered all our leads to the gang leader. When was the last time you got laid? Come to think of it, the boss lady’s been in an exceptionally bad mood lately. Trouble in paradise?”

“I don’t need to get laid! Why does everyone just assume that’s the answer to whatever is the matter with me? Some people go years between lays!”

“Hell, some people never bother to get laid at all.” Jeff added this with a shrug, guessing who I was talking about in one go. Then again, why wouldn’t Jeff know whose memory I was chasing?

“There was a sweet little thing vomiting in the back, Tyr, relax. While you were bashing heads, I charmed her into giving up the information we needed. Don’t worry,” he said defensively at my glare. “She was thrilled to give me the information and she’s intact and non-traumatized by the experience. I don’t see Tannen staying in business much longer, what with over half of his gang killed by your hand. But we might as well finish him off. Better than him going out like a bitch from some rival pissant.”

“It’s good to see you care,” I mentioned lightly, already planning a late-night trip to the gym. I was too keyed up to sleep. “Goodnight, Jeff,” I said absently, intent on leaving the cleanup to my partner. After all, I’d done all the work.

“What do you say I call a cleanup crew and we find some high-class hookers to celebrate Tannen’s impending demise?”

“No thanks, man,” I objected with a sigh.

“Oh come on!” Jeffrey suddenly shouted, surprising me. “What, did that woman turn you into a monk? Look, it’s nice and all that you found yourself a little innocent to lust after up there, but let’s face it, man, you’re not an innocent. This celibacy thing you’ve got going right now is cute and all. But it’s not you. It’ll never be you. You need to get your dick wet from time to time to stay sane. She didn’t know what she was missing; you do. This is the coldest you’ve ever been, and not just to me. What’s it been, eight months? Almost nine? Come on! Let’s go break your fast in style!”

Still, the man didn’t get it. “You go ahead,” I finally said, ignoring his growl of frustration. “She was everything I could ever want, man,” I finally admitted in despair.  “Light and compassion and all the goodness I’ll ever know.  I can’t have her.  But she’s all I want.”  I ran my hand through my hair in utter frustration.  “I don’t know anymore, Jeff.  But I know I don’t want to break anything unless it’s a punching bag. Goodnight.” I left, knowing that the blond-haired man’s compassion was spent for the night and that anything else he said would likely piss me off.

“You miss her. I get it,” he called after me. “But punishing yourself isn’t going to bring her back, Tyr. That ship has sailed. You’re back in your own life; start acting like it.”

Like that.

Instead of answering, I headed out the door, intent on finding the nearest twenty-four-hour gym and working myself into exhaustion.