Like the calm before a storm, the first moment after the kiss consisted of silence. Silence, and the play of emotions over faces: shock, anger, confusion, guilt . . . a glimmer of hope, a glint of excitement, a flash of pleasure. They stood, unable to move, under the dawning realization of what they had just done.
In the second moment the shifting emotions settled, minds cleared, and they faced each other anew.
Kisses do not exist in vacuum; in the third moment, the world around them spun back into their awareness.
In the fourth, life resumed.
He spoke first, his immediate thought, breathing out a "Wow . . ." barely audible, blending in to the sound of the river so near them.
Then, taking note of the look on her face, he made an effort, not wholly successful, to reverse his instinctive grin. She was far too quiet, and she didn't look as a girl ought to who's just shared so intense a kiss.
"Becki, I . . ." he started; her steady glare silenced him. He swallowed once and tried again.
"That was . . ." A gleam in her eyes dared him to say it, but he stopped again anyway. No room here for words to match the kiss's passion. The anger in her face was too evident. And something more than anger--she looked tense, as if bracing herself to cry. Without doubt, she had kissed him back. She ought to have enjoyed the moment as much as he had. Why, then, this sudden hostility?
He gave up and turned to apologies. "Look, Becki, I'm sorry, I didn't mean to--well, I did, but it's not what you think--"
She wasn't buying it; he expected her to argue, if she was so angry, but she just went on watching him in that quiet, cautious way, like a cat sizing up its prey--yet with a hint of the fear more suitable to the mouse.
"I saw someone, just after you fell, and I recognized him. If he saw me too, well, let's just say that I think it's pretty well unlikely he's on our side. Even if he were on our side officially, he's never on my side. If he recognized me, it could jeopardize the mission."
He almost thought she relaxed a little, ever so little, in his arms, as he launched into this explanation. It was only then that he realized she still was in his arms, just as he'd caught her from her fall and just as he'd kissed her. The way she was straining against it now, the embrace bordered on a parody of romance. He didn't let go--she was still tensed as if to run the moment she got free of him.
"I'm still persona non grata in the States, you know, and this guy works for the people who'd like me brought back home to stand trial."
Her eyes narrowed to remind him that he was still persona non grata on the Seine, too.
"So I--well, it was the first cover that came to my mind, that's all, and I couldn't let him see me. Us. I mean, what would look more natural on the banks of the Seine than lovers kissing, right?"
Her face had gone closed, rigid with control. Her mind would not be closed to him--but he hesitated to use the Force just to test her emotions.
"In fact, now that I think of it, I know what must have given me the idea. Corran on Coruscant, you remember? When he saw Kirtan Loor--well, the man I saw, John Wells, is to me what Loor was to Corran, so it was just natural. I'm sorry, really, I didn't mean anything by it--" how feeble a lie that sounded now in his own ears; but in fact the kiss had meant more and more the longer it went on, and he hadn't been expecting that when he started it. "I just . . ."
He didn't need the Force now to test her emotions; try as she might, she couldn' t keep them contained. And she, still so quiet, had no need to shout to make her feelings known; he couldn't help overhearing as they spilled over into his own awareness.
"Besides," he said, the grin creeping back onto his face as he recognized what lay beneath the anger, "you liked it too, didn't you? You did enjoy it. So I don't see why you're so upset--"
"Would it help our looking natural," she finally spoke, still disturbingly quiet, "if I slapped you right now?"
He blinked, taken aback, and then frowned. "Let's not push it. Besides--" a quick scan in the Force confirmed it-- "Wells is gone now. I don't think he recognized me."
"Hooray for the Jedi's quick thinking," she shot sarcastically.
"Look--maybe it wasn't such a good idea, but it was a good kiss. Why are you so angry?"
She had gone silent again--he began to suspect that only meant a renewing of her anger--but as yet she still hadn't been able to rebottle her emotions. His grip on her tightened as he guessed what was wrong. "Are you mad that I kissed you--or mad that you enjoyed it so much?"
Her glare now was less of anger and more pleading, and he relented. "I'm sorry! Really! I'll make it up to you if I can--"
"You might start," she whispered, "by letting go of me."
"So long as you're not going to go drown yourself in the river or anything!" Then he grinned and tried a new tactic. "Wait, better yet--I'll just go jump in myself. Save you the trouble of pushing me!"
She blinked in surprise and then, finally, allowed herself a smile. Which led in short order to a giggle. Relieved, Josh smiled in return and released her, setting her down on the wall, where she sat, weak-kneed and weary, staring down at her feet.
"Forgive me?" he asked cautiously. She shrugged. "Still friends?" he asked, and she nodded, and then looked up at him.
"This isn't good, Josh."
"I doubt it's as bad as you think, either," he grinned. "Seemed pretty good to me--"
His efforts at reconciliation were cut short suddenly by the sounding of his comlink. With a sigh he stepped back from her to answer it.
The device was loud enough for them both to hear. In moments the effects of their kiss were driven to the backs of their minds, as Mike's voice laboriously detailed the number and location of the pier where, their teammate advised, he'd stumbled onto something that might interest them.
The Alba Varden was found at last.