Page 4 of Battle of Hearts

Sawyer moved with such focus, such grace, that Mirren struggled not to sit back and admire her. She started with the stove, then the walls of the outpost, then checked the supplies, finally ending with the bunk beds. A fleeting thought crossed Mirren’s mind of her and Sawyer tucked under those sheets, and she had to physically shake her head to get rid of it.

“How many times have you been here?” Mirren perked up, partially out of curiosity and partially to help rid that thought from her mind completely. Even though Sawyer didn’t seem like the kind of person for small talk, she still responded, albeit shortly. In an effort to break the woman out of her shell more, Mirren added, “You must have been the obvious choice then for leading this mission, then. Your experience matched with your skillset makes you overly qualified.”

It must have worked too, even just a little bit, as Mirren watched Sawyer pause slightly before she answered. Mirrentucked her head back in her laptop screen just in time to hide a small smirk.

Around fifteen minutes later, Sawyer broke the silence. “Everything looks good on my end. How about you?”

Everything looks good… Mirren thought as she looked up at Sawyer, then immediately cleared her throat as she fixed her gaze back on her screen. “The weather is holding steady for now,” she replied, before a grim look flashed across her gaze. “But… It looks like t here’s a significant drop in pressure that suggests the storm is intensifying. We may have to be prepared for it to hit sooner rather than later.”

“How soon?”

“It’s… hard to say for certain,” Mirren continued, “but I’d estimate we have a few hours, maybe three at most, before it reaches full strength.”

“Shit. That doesn’t give us much time.” Sawyer looked around, and Mirren used the woman’s temporarily distraction to scan up and down her frame. Sawyer was tall, muscular, with a few faint scars decorating her collarbone and short brown hair framing a very attractive face.

Mirren looked back down at her data, which showed evidence of a severe oncoming storm. It was supposed to be nothing more than a short trip to the outpost, here and back, but now it seemed that it would be dangerous to try to head back to the base. “I think it might be best if we stay the night,” Mirren finally said. It was their best option, but she couldn’t help but think of the opportunity it would give her to possibly learn more about Sawyer.

Sawyer paused, but eventually voiced her agreement, prompting Mirren to continue. “I’ve already started gathering data on the storm’s trajectory. We should have enough information to make an informed decision by the time it arrives.”

“Good,” Sawyer replied. “Let’s get the stove going and make sure we’re stocked up on firewood. We’ll need to conserve our energy and stay warm.”

Mirren nodded in agreement, and together they set to work. The silence between them was companionable now, a shared understanding that didn’t require words. They worked efficiently, stocking the woodpile, checking the water supply, and setting up a makeshift command center on the table.

Mirren tried her best to remain focused, but Sawyer’s presence in the room was so thick it was borderline intoxicating, and it was hard to keep her eyes averted. No matter how much she tried to deny it, it wasn’t just admiration or respect that drew her to Sawyer, but something visceral and raw. Despite her considerably welcoming exterior, Mirren had never been one form attachments easily, having been more introverted throughout her entire life. She had never been one to form attachments easily— not that her life in the Air Force really allowed for it—but there was something about Sawyer that made her want to know more, to understand the woman behind the stoic exterior.

But now wasn’t the time to dwell on such thoughts. The storm was coming, and they needed to be ready.

Once the fire was going and the room had started to warm, Sawyer walked over to the table, placing her rucksack on the surface and fishing through it. The flickering light cast long shadows across the room, the only movement in the stillness. Mirren cracked her knuckles, her cold fingers finding temporary warmth in her palms, her eyes sneaking peeks to Sawyer across from her. The captain didn’t have much space on the table due to her instruments scattered about, so Mirren thought to move some of her belongings out of the way.

“Here, let me—” Mirren began, reaching out to drag some of her wires out of the way just as Sawyer went to do the samething, their hands making contact. Everything around them suddenly crackled between them.

The wind howled around them outside, the cold biting into her skin, the warmth of the fire barely beginning to take over, but all Mirren could focus on was the warmth of Sawyer’s hand, the connection that had sparked between them in that brief touch. It was as if time had slowed, the storm and the mission fading into the background as something deeper, more primal, took over.

As Mirren lifted her eyes, she noticed that there was a vulnerability in Sawyer’s gaze, a crack in the armor she so carefully maintained, and it was enough to make Mirren’s breath catch in her throat. She parted her lips. She wanted to say something, anything at all, but her voice seemed to be suddenly lost.

But just as quickly as it had happened, the moment passed. Sawyer pulled her hand back, the sudden, comforting warmth on Mirren’s hand quickly taken away. The captain’s expression was unreadable as she resumed checking her gear. Mirren did the same, pulling some of her belongings back and putting away what she didn’t need, though her mind was still reeling from what had just occurred. She forced herself to focus, to push aside the thoughts that threatened to distract her, but it was easier said than done. The memory of that touch lingered, and the throbbing of her heart in her chest didn’t make it any easier.

For a while, neither of them spoke. Sawyer left the kitchen table to take a seat at the chair in front of the wood oven, palms stretched out to soak up the warmth. The crackling of the fire was the only sound amidst the tension between them. Not an uncomfortable tension, but it was there, so palpable Mirren could taste it.

Finally, it was Mirren who, after clearing her throat, daringly broke the silence. “You’re not what I expected, Captain,” she saidsoftly, her voice thoughtful. Her heart pattered heavily in her chest as she anxiously awaited her response.

Sawyer glanced at her, one eyebrow raised. “What did you expect?”

Mirren’s lips curved into a small smile. “I’m not sure, exactly. I’ve heard about you, of course—everyone on base knows who you are. But meeting you in person…you’re different.”

Sawyer tilted her head slightly, and the intrigue written across her features evoked a feeling of excitement in Mirren. “Different how?”

Mirren looked at her, blue eyes sharp and discerning. “More human. More…aware. I’ve met a lot of people who are good at their jobs, but they often lose sight of the bigger picture. You don’t seem like someone who would make that mistake.”

Sawyer considered that for a moment, and Mirren internally lashed herself for her words, fearing that she may’ve overstepped a very obvious boundary. But Sawyer didn’t take it in any negative light. She simply didn’t know how to respond. She wasn’t used to being seen in that way—most people only saw the uniform, the rank, the responsibilities. She’d become accustomed to it, even embraced it, because it made her job easier. But Mirren’s words touched on something deeper, something she rarely let herself acknowledge.

“I do my best,” she said finally, her tone even. She had the urge to say more, but no words come to mind.

Mirren nodded, and then smiled again, this time wider and more sweet than amused. “It’s a rare quality. And it’s why I think we’ll get through this just fine.”

Sawyer gave a small, almost imperceptible nod in return. The wind outside howled louder, the first real sign that the storm was closing in. The walls of the outpost creaked under the pressure, but the building held firm. The storm was soon to come.

With everything secure, the pair settled in for the long wait. The wood-burning stove provided some warmth, but not enough for the women to peel out of their layers. The air was still cold, their breaths visible in the dim light. While Sawyer kept close to the oven, Mirren remained at the table, letting out a sigh as she watched the charts on her screen light up violently, proof of the worsening weather. For the last almost two hours now that they’d sat in silence, Mirren had been unable to focus. Her mind still raced from her and Sawyer’s interactions earlier.

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