Chapter 6

The chips were salty against her tongue as she pressed them into her mouth. It had the dual effect of curing her hunger and stopping her from talking.

With not much to do in Bishop's Green, Jules had shown him around the town. She had shown him the school that she and her brothers had gone to, the library where she had gotten her first job when she was 15, and finally to the only fish and chips shop that was open at lunchtime.

Perching themselves on a bench in the park, talk about Afghanistan had been scarce.

It made Jules worry that the topic would soon rear its ugly head, calling them back to the frontline in their minds.

Maybe that was why she continued to chain eat chips smothered in salt and vinegar.

"So," Marc broke the silence, brushing his overgrown hair back.

He needed a haircut before he returned to the front line.

"How have you been?" Marc slipped a chip between his lips, leaving her to answer.

Jules swallowed around the food in her mouth, "Yeah, it's been good."

"Your mother seemed a bit . . ." Marc tread carefully.

Jules looked at him from the corner of her eye, "She doesn't like speaking about Afghanistan. She thinks I should be working in a shop, looking for a bloke to marry and settle down."

Marc raised an eyebrow, "Mothers can be like that."

Jules gave a small scoff.

"Your Dad seemed like a nice bloke. Has he served?"

Jules nodded, "I think he was upset when my brothers didn't choose to go into the military; they're both older than me. He worries, but at least he recognises that it's what I want to do. I'm still fairly certain that my mother tells our neighbours that I'm on a sabbatical somewhere." Jules tried to joke but neither of them laughed.

It highlighted how much Jules actually needed her mother to accept her choices, and it made her angry to think that she still wanted, or needed, her mother's approval.

"What about your parents?" Jules lifted her head, "Eh, why aren't you with your family now?"

Marc gave a sigh and slouched down into the bench, "My parents are away on holiday in the Caribbean. They support me in what I do and I'm an only child," He shrugged, "There's not much to tell really."

Jules leaned away and gave him a look, "Something tells me that there's a lot more to be told."

"Nope," Marc shook his head, "I am a very boring person. But you," Marc tilted his head towards her, "You have a whole mystery around you."

"Me?" Jules squeaked as Marc indicated towards her past. She suddenly wanted Carlos here, to help.

"Yes, you," Marc sat up straight once again, letting the chips sit in his lap, "You're 'a riddle wrapped up in an enigma'."

"Churchill." Jules muttered subconsciously as she heard the famous quote fall from Marc's lips.

Marc smiled instantly as his desire for Jules rocketed by her knowledge.

"So, come on," Marc wouldn't drop it, "Why is your records classified?"

Jules snapped her head and frowned at him.

"After what Kipling said, I called in a favour."

Jules anger grew deeper as she realised she was vulnerable. She could not tell him her past, even if that meant losing him.

"That's how you found my address," Jules murmured.

Marc nodded, "My contact couldn't tell me much but he could tell me that it was United States Intelligence who ranked your file as classified. Where were you posted before Afghanistan?"

Jules stormed to her feet, "Is that why you started this- whatever this is, between us!? To find out information? Is that why you're here now?"

Marc leaned forward and rested his arms against his knees, "No, and you know it isn't. We," Marc reminded her that she played an instrumental part in the starting up of this relationship, "do not have a classified file. You do."

"Exactly, classified! Do you understand what that word means?" Jules imitated Marc, "I can't tell you!"

"That's-" Marc was cut off as Jules stormed across the park and dumped her portion of chips into the bin.

Marc instantly got to his feet and followed her. His chips joined hers in the bin and he blocked her path, "We're not in Afghanistan now. There are no prying ears, no security, no officers. You can tell me."

Jules remembered the piece of paper she had signed which stately told that she could not, "No, I can't. Please don't make me."

Marc was struck by the sound of pleading in Jules's voice before she snuck past him and high tailed it out of the park, running from the situation.

"I'm just as fit as you!" Marc called after her, "I can follow you all day."

"Marc!" Jules shouted her shoulder in aggravation, "Stop it. Just accept that I can't tell you."

"No, I don't accept that," Marc gripped her elbow and stepped in front of her, blocking her path once again, "I need to know."

"Why!?" Jules yanked her arm out of his grasp, "Why do you need to know? I promise that it has no effect on you whatsoever!"

"You're wrong! It does have an effect on me!" Marc blurted out.

Jules frowned up at him in confusion, everything she knows about him being thrown into question in her mind.

Marc rubbed the light stubble that had begun to grow over his jaw, "It does affect me," he said in a softer tone when he realised people on the opposite side of the street were watching them.

"How?" Jules snapped, "Tell me, how?"

"It affects me, because it affects you!" Marc sighed, "I can't help you if I don't know about it."

"Help me!?" Jules sneered, "I don't need your help!" She stepped past him, revolted by the suggestion.

Marc called after her in a soft tone but his words struck her soul, "You're still having the nightmares, Jules, aren't you?"

Jules froze and looked at him over her shoulder. Had he been watching her?

"You had them in Afghanistan. I found you screaming in your sleep once, calling after someone called Jackson?" Marc explained.

Jules looked at the ground, her eyes closing briefly.

"That's when I called my contact. Who's Jackson, Reynolds?"

Jules's spine straightened as she heard the authority in his voice. She was fighting with herself whether she should tell him or not. And if she told him, how much did she tell him?

Because she could not tell him everything; her patriotism ran deeper and wider than her feelings for him. It was a harsh truth, but one that enabled her to do her job.

"Were- Were you two . . .?" Marc wagged his eyebrows.

"No," Jules shook her head, "We worked together, that was all."

Marc's eyes widened as he had her opening up.

"I can't tell you-"

"-Jules!"

"-No, listen! I can't tell you everything, because I'm bound by official state secrets act."

Marc's interest in her past just increased tenfold, "State secrets?"

Jules looked around them before she walked back up to Marc and spoke in hushed tones, "I was recruited to work for an American-led intelligence task force."

"What did you do for them?" Marc asked.

"I was kind-of their unofficial sniper. I didn't have a spotter or anything but I did most of the long-range shots." Jules explained.

"Who's Jackson?"

"Jackson was one of our team mates. He and Evans, another member of the task force, was killed on a mission. It was the last mission we ever did."

"We?" Marc picked up on her choice of words.

Jules closed her eyes and preyed Carlos forgave her as she reached into her jacket and removed the photograph of their team, and handed it to Marc, "Ramirez and I. We made up the third and fourth members of the team, but after Evans and Jackson were murdered we quit."

Jules anger began to seep from her pores, her fingers curled into a fist by her side.

"Murdered?" Marc looked at the photograph with new knowledge.

Jules closed her eyes as she began to toe the line between state secrets and general knowledge, "They were killed in action."

Marc knew that she couldn't tell him and he felt bad for asking her so he dropped the topic. She had already told him a lot more than he thought she would.

"Thank you," He handed her back the photograph.

Her surprise was written clearly across her face as she took the photograph and slipped it back to safety in her pocket.

"So," Jules had never felt so awkward, "What now?"

"What now?" Marc took a deep breath and looked around them, "Is there anything else to do around here?"

Jules looked around at the plain street, "Not really, but there is a hotel nearby."

"A hotel?" Marc arched an eyebrow.

"Well, my brother will still be at home," Jules muttered, receiving an instant smile from Marc, "And this way you won't have to see my mother again."

"Nice way to ruin the romance," Marc joked.

Jules took a step forward, pressing their chests close together, "I can think of a way to make it up to you."

They shared a small moment before Marc grabbed her hand, "Lead the way."

"My pleasure," Jules laughed as her past was forgotten for the moment and she got to live in the present with Marc.

She wasn't instantly cured, she didn't think she would ever be, but for now she was content.

However, she couldn't stop the cynical side of her brain from wondering how long it would last?

END OF PART ONE.