AFTER THE EXCHANGE

“She’s asleep”, Jim Phelps said quietly as he pulled the door to the bedroom closed behind him. 

In the sitting room of the foreign hotel room, the other three men let out a collective sigh of relief.  Cinnamon Carter had been captured and held for almost three days by the ruthless Colonel Strom and they had just gotten her back in a tense exchange for the enemy prisoner, Rudolf Kurtz.  Kurtz was one of Strom’s spies who they had “stolen” from prison and “broken”, revealing many of the enemy’s secrets before they returned him in exchange for their friend.

“Did she say anything?  What did they do to her?” Willy Armitage asked tentatively, not knowing if he really wanted to hear the answer. 

Cinnamon was the first and only member of the IMF to have been caught in the line of duty, it was by the expert skills of her partners that she had been freed and they were hoping none the worse for wear.  Cinnamon was tough, one of the best, but none of them could say how well they would hold up under days of enemy torture…it was something they all put at the back of their thoughts each time they agreed to join Jim in one of his “impossible missions”.  They had all gone through “the drill” but each had his doubts about how much he could tolerate if put to the test.

Jim sat down and reached for a cigarette saying, “She didn’t say much.  She knows she was drugged a lot of the time and she says her memories are shaky.   I believe that…her arms are bruised from what were probably IV injections of Lord-knows-what.   She’ll have to be fully debriefed by the Secretary when we get home, but for now, she just needs to rest.”

Rollin Hand stood quietly at the balcony doors, sipping a tall bourbon on the rocks, despite the fact that it was not yet nine in the morning, and staring out at the foreign city as it began it’s work day.  He wanted so badly to go to her, hold her, make sure she was safe but their relationship was still kept a secret from their IMF friends….frowned upon by “the Company”.  They were sure the other exceptionally bright agents couldn’t help but know they had been more than friends over the past three years, but they did not advertise their feelings and he could not now show his concern for her any more than the others were.   While she had been held captive, he did not let himself think about what she might have been going through, only what he could do to get her back.  Now that she was back, his mind raced through all the horrible things that she could have undergone. 

“I’m going to make some travel arrangements for us through our contact at the Embassy,” Jim said after a long silence from the group.  “You guys try to get some sleep.  We’ll wrap up everything here and let Cinnamon regroup then we’ll head out tomorrow morning.” 

Willy stood, “Should we get a doctor or anything?  I mean, we don’t know what she was given, shouldn’t we have her checked out?”  Willy was not his usual quiet self today, a sign of his concern for his friend and upset over the situation they had all just experienced.

Jim replied hesitantly, “I suggested that, but she was pretty adamant that she was alright and didn’t want to see a doctor.  She’ll have to be examined by Dr. Green when we get back.  I think it can wait.  She doesn’t seem to be under the effects of anything now and you know how stubborn she can be…”. 

This comment made the group collectively chuckle and the room relax a degree.  Jim gathered his briefcase and sunglasses and headed out to the American Embassy, which was nearby.   Willy retired to the other bedroom and attempted to nap while Barney turned on the sitting room’s television and began flipping through the Iron Curtain country’s limited program selections. 

Rollin took a last long swallow of the drink and extinguished his cigarette, “I’m gonna take a walk”.  

“Rollin”, Barney stopped his friend and smiled, “she’ll be ok, she’s strong, you know that better than anyone”, acknowledging the unspoken bond between Rollin and Cinnamon. 

“Yeah, I bet they didn’t know what hit them…probably glad to give her back”, Rollin laughed, hoping the words would convince them both that she didn’t suffer.

It was early evening when Cinnamon opened her eyes and tried to adjust to her surroundings.  She sat up quickly; not recognizing the hotel room and fearing her rescue had all been a dream.

“Hey, it’s ok, you’re safe”, Rollin said quickly and moved to her side as he sensed her fear.  He had been sitting in the now darkened bedroom for some time now after the others left for dinner, watching her sleep.

“Rollin?” she asked timidly.

“It’s me, Baby, you’re ok, I’m right here” he replied and moved to put his arms around her.

He could feel her stiffen and backed off, not wanting to frighten her even more.  He reached for the bedside lamp and turned it on its dimmest setting.

“Rollin…I’m sorry, I…” the words didn’t come to her as she foggily tried to make sense of everything around her.  “How…how long have I been asleep?  Where are the others?”

He brushed a lock of blonde hair out of her face and answered quietly, “They went to clean-up the warehouse and pick up some dinner.  I wanted to stay with you.  You’ve been asleep for about ten hours.  Do you feel better?”

“I guess so.” 

“You hungry?  The guys are going to bring us something back.”

“No, I guess I should be but I’m not really.  I could use a cigarette tho, and maybe a drink?”  She forced a smile for the first time since awakening.

“Anything…stay right here.”

When he came back into the room, she had stood from the bed and was looking out the window at the lights of the city below.  He sat her drink down, laying the pack of cigarettes next to it, and walked to join her at the window.  Placing his arms around her waist, he tried to hold her tightly against him but she once again stiffened and pulled back slightly.

“I’m sorry, babe, I just want to hold you…are you alright?”  He tried not to sound it, but was hurt by her physical rejection.  “Please tell me you’re alright…I was so worried about you…”

“Rollin, I’m sorry, I just don’t want to talk about it right now, ok?  I just want to go home and forget this ever happened.”  She didn’t seem to be able to make eye contact with him and walked away from the window and sat back down on the bed.  

Noise from the outer room broke the tension between them and Rollin stepped to the door to see the three men had returned and were loaded down.  Willy was carrying a couple of duffel bags of gear from the warehouse where they had deceived Kurtz into giving them the information they needed to get Cinnamon back.  Jim carried a bottle of bourbon and a bag of ice, and Barney’s arms were loaded down with several bags of takeout.

“We got a little of everything for dinner, didn’t know what she might want…. Is she up yet?” Jim asked as he moved to the small bar area of the suite with the fresh bottle of bourbon.  The group had started drinking early that day as they released the stress that had built up over the mission.  He knew they needed the release and poured a round for all but Willy, who never touched the stuff.

“Yeah, just a few minutes ago…I’ll see if she wants to join us.”  Rollin responded, stepping back into the bedroom. 

“Cin, the guys brought food and drink, you feel like…”

She stopped him, trying to sound confident and put together, “I’ll be right out, let me freshen up a little”. 

When the door closed, she sat down the drink he had left for her, her hands trembling.  She was NOT ready to leave the safety of the room but couldn’t let her friends see her anything but in control.  She stepped into the bathroom and looked hesitantly at herself in the mirror.  ‘God, I look as bad as I feel’ she said to herself.  She looked around and found her luggage on the bathroom floor.  She dug out some make-up and a brush and tried to repair what three days of no sleep and mental torture had done to her.  By the time she had finished 5 minutes later, she thought she could pass for human.  She found some clean blue jeans and a University of Illinois sweatshirt in her bag and changed, trying not to look at the needle marks and bruises on her arms while she did it. 

“Hi guys…what’s for dinner?” Cinnamon smiled and stepped out of the bedroom, putting forth the appearance that all was well.  The rest of the evening was light conversation accompanied by a little more than light drinking but no one asked any questions of Cinnamon or discussed the mission.  After about two hours, Cinnamon excused herself, explaining that she was still tired, and returned to the bedroom.  Once the door closed behind her, she lit a cigarette and sat on the bed without turning on the light.  While she sat quietly in the dark, a single tear rolled down her cheek that she had fought all night to keep in….

The five agents left the next morning on a privately chartered flight out of the country.  They flew to London where they boarded a TWA flight back to Los Angeles via Chicago.  While they were awaiting their baggage at LAX, Jim took Rollin aside.

“Can you see that she gets home ok?” Jim asked, knowing Rollin would have it no other way. 

“Yeah, sure, it’s on my way.” 

“I’ll contact Dr. Green and the Secretary and arrange for a physical and debriefing tomorrow if at all possible.  Let her know I’ll call her in the morning.”  Jim knew the debriefing, which included a psychological interview, was going to be as hard on Cinnamon as the confinement.  To look at her, she appeared totally in control and over her ordeal.  He of all people knew, however, what a good actress she was.  He hoped she was coping at least somewhat as well as it appeared.

The drive to Cinnamon’s apartment from the airport was quiet.  Cinnamon had slept or pretended to read over the long flights home.  She had been cheerful to the group but Rollin could tell how detached she was.   They had not had another chance to talk privately since that first night which didn’t lend Rollin any information about what she had gone through or what she was feeling now.  Rollin turned off the car’s engine and turned to face her.

“Glad to be home?”  He caressed her cheek with the back of his hand.

“Very.” She admitted and attempted a smile, leaning every so slightly into his hand.

“Let me take your luggage up and get you settled.” He offered.  Her initial instinct was to say no, she would do it herself and just wanted to be alone, but she knew he was only trying to help and didn’t object.

Inside the apartment, she made no move to open the curtains or turn on more than the perfunctory lights.  She stood in the living room and looked around, as if not knowing where to go or what to do next.  Rollin returned from her bedroom where he had placed her bags.  He moved towards the bar to fix them a drink, something that was the routine when they returned from a mission.  They usually retreated to her place to rest, relax and enjoy each other’s company, most often in the bedroom.  As he was fixing the drinks, he said, “Jim said he’ll call you in the morning.  You’ll have to be debriefed downtown and undergo a physical you know…”

“I know.” She replied quietly from the seat she had taken on the couch. 

“Cinnamon”, he said, handing her a Manhattan and sitting next to her, “It might help to talk about it…”

“No, it won’t”, she snapped back, the first emotion he had seen from her in days, and rose from the couch.  “I just want to forget it ever happened.  I don’t want everybody walking on eggshells around me or worrying if I gave away States’ secrets…”

“Babe, nobody is doing that, we’re just worried about you.  I’m worried about you.  You don’t know how scared I was….” He stood, his voice at the breaking point.

“Rollin, I’m sorry if you were worried and I know what you all did to get me out but I don’t want it to be some big drama, ok?”  He tried to reach for her as she moved past him towards the balcony, “Just leave me alone…”

Rollin felt the words hit him like a slap in the face.  “Ok, if that’s what you want. I’ll go,” but he didn’t move. 

“Thank you.” She said firmly and moved out on to the balcony. 

He stood there, alone in the living room, for another thirty seconds or so then sat down his glass and left her apartment without another word. 

The next morning, Jim called as promised and came by to pick Cinnamon up about ten.  Her debriefing was held downtown where the Company held unassuming offices behind the façade of an old warehouse.   Cinnamon was first given a complete physical by Dr. Green, the “team doctor” as he was jokingly referred to.   He took blood samples and quizzed Cinnamon on the sensations she felt while under the influences of the enemy drugs, trying to determine what the other side was using these days to get at the truth.  She was not able to answer many of his questions about the amounts or frequency of the drugs they had given her as she had been in shock or delirious a great deal of the time after the injections began.  That compounded by her claustrophobia gave her many gaps in the events of her capture.   He also verified her account that her captors had not beaten nor sexually assaulted her.

The next piece of her debriefing was several hours of interviews with Jim and another agent she didn’t know and was not introduced to.  The interview room also held a wall of mirrors, which she was sure held behind it others who were observing her examination.  She was asked what information it was that the enemy was trying to get from her and what information she had given them.  Cinnamon very calmly recounted to the men what she could remember, which again was limited.  One point she adamantly held to was that she did not reveal her identity, that of any members of the IMF, nor the government for which she worked.  

The debriefing was stressful and she was glad when the anonymous agent indicated they were finished but she should make herself available for further questions should the Secretary request additional information. 

Cinnamon stepped back into the lobby area of the offices and waited for Jim who was asked to remain behind.   After about five minutes, Jim appeared and motioned her towards the door.  As soon as they were outside, he pulled out a cigarette and handed her one as well.  As soon as they were lit, he spoke, “You did just great.  I don’t think they’ll have any more questions.  You ok?”

“Yeah, just glad for this part to be over.  Ready to get back to work.”  She made this statement confidently, but was unsure what his response would be.

He motioned her towards his car.  “Cinnamon,” he began as soon as they were inside, “you’ve been through a lot, the recommendation from Dr. Green is that you take some time off.  You need to deal with what happened and heal.  Maybe take a trip….” 

“Jim, I’m FINE,” she interrupted stubbornly, “I’m ready to get back to work right away.   I don’t need to take any time off.” 

Rollin had been edgy all day.  The play he had agreed to be in was not scheduled to start rehearsing until the next week…he tried to spend his day memorizing the script but all he could think about was the way Cinnamon had sent him away the night before.  He knew she was upset, he had only wanted to help her, comfort her, but she was shutting him out.  It frustrated him that as close as they had become over the last few years, equally friends and lovers, or so he had thought, he could not get past her wall once she put it up and it seemed to be fully bricked up this time.   She was being stubborn and independent, which, ironically, were some of the things he loved about her most of the time.

He had called her about noon and got the machine.   He supposed she was at her debriefing.   He hoped it was not as traumatic for her to recount her experiences as it had been to undergo them.   It hurt him that she was not willing to talk to him but he tried to be understanding…

When Cinnamon still had not returned his call by the end of that first full day home, he was still not too worried.  It was not their habit to speak everyday, although they saw each other a couple of times a week when their schedules allowed.   It was a relationship both seemed to enjoy…and close friendship, which was borne of the intense hours they spent together on missions during which, either could be caught or killed if things went awry.  It had grown into a passionate physical relationship and, finally, what he was certain was a mutual love and commitment, even if it had remained unspoken thus far. 

Rollin attempted to phone Cinnamon on a daily basis for the next three days and was becoming increasingly anxious when she did not answer the phone or return the calls.   He broke down and nonchalantly called Jim “just to see if the debriefing went ok”.  Jim indicated that it had and Cinnamon had seemed fine when he left her that day.  He knew this situation was hard on Rollin, but was not at liberty to discuss her debriefing with him.  He also knew Cinnamon well enough to know she would tell Rollin what she wanted him to know, when she was ready, and it was not his place to intervene. 

The limited information made Rollin feel somewhat better that she was physically alright but he was still not satisfied that she would not return his calls.  On the morning of the fourth day, he swallowed his pride out of concern for Cinnamon and called their mutual friend, Barney Collier.  Without putting it into so many words, Rollin asked Barney to try to call Cinnamon and see if she would talk to him…was it just Rollin she was ignoring or everyone? 

Cinnamon had spent most of the rest of the week in her apartment.  If asked, she wouldn’t have been able to quite list anything that she had done: slept a lot, watched some old movies on television, did some needlepoint….  She preferred to sleep during the day it seemed as the nightmares of her captivity didn’t seem to show themselves as much during the day.   The phone rang several times each day, but she let it go to the answering machine.  One call was offering a quick modeling job on Catalina Island, “one day, fun and sun, good money” her agent had said, but she didn’t think the bruises on her arms or dark circles under her eyes would serve well in a swimsuit shoot, so she let it go unacknowledged. 

Several of the calls were from Rollin.  She felt guilty about not answering those, but really didn’t want to talk to him or anyone it seemed.  A voice in the back of her head kept trying to tell her she was probably depressed, but she refused to listen to it, she had told Jim she was “FINE”, and she meant to make it the truth.  Besides, nothing was wrong with her, she was not physically ill or injured, and there was no reason for her to have any lasting after effects of the captivity.  She just didn’t feel like leaving the house right now and that was her prerogative.

The phone rang late one afternoon while she was napping on her bed.  Without thinking, she answered the phone to silence it.  

“Cinnamon?  Hey, it’s Barney, how’re you doing?”

“Barney…Hi…I’m fine…what’s up?”  She tried to sound wide-awake, as it was the middle of the day.

“Nothing really, just thinking about you….” He paused, waiting for her to respond.

After a few seconds, she replied, “Well, I’m just fine, getting some things done around the apartment this week…” She realized to a professional liar like Barney, she probably didn’t sound too convincing.

“Oh, that’s great,” he tried to follow her story.  “I was trying to get a hold of Rollin earlier, I have some basketball tickets to the UCLA game this weekend, have you talked to him?”  When Rollin had called Barney earlier in the day and expressed concern that Cinnamon either was not home or had been avoiding his calls, Barney said he would try to at least make sure she was ok, if not try to get the two of them connected.

“No, I haven’t talked to him…he did call the other day, I’ve just been so busy around here, I haven’t had time to call him back,” this, she rationalized as she said it, was not really a lie, just stretching the truth a little.

Barney replied lightly, “Well, I’ll give him another call then later I guess.  If you talk to him, tell him he’d better move fast or I’m gonna take that cute waitress at the coffee shop in Malibu to the basketball game!” He then lowered his voice a little, trying to express his feelings in expression if not words, “Cin, it was good to talk to you.  I do hope everything’s ok.  Give me a call anytime you need to talk or want to go out for a drink or something, ok?”

She sighed, she knew Barney was only worried about her and she was touched.  “Thanks Barney, I will, real soon, I promise.  Let me know how it goes with the waitress.”

After she hung up, she looked at the phone knowing she should call Rollin.  She knew he had most likely put Barney up to the call.  Before she could decide what to say to Rollin over the phone, the buzzer sounded, indicating someone wished to be let in from the outside door.  She went to the intercom timidly, “Yes?”

“Hey, it’s me.” She heard Rollin’s voice over the speaker. “Can I come up?”

She hesitated, then released the downstairs door. 

Within moments, there was a knock at the door to her apartment.  She took a deep breath and opened it to see Rollin standing in the hallway holding a single red rose.

“Hi…remember me?” he said quietly and grinned.  He knew he could always get her with the grin…well, he hoped it would always work…

“Hi, sure, come in.” she responded solemnly and stepped aside to allow him entrance.  “That for me?” she pointed to the flower and tried to sound friendly.

“You have any doubts?” he tried to keep the conversation light.  They continued with small talk for a few minutes, both a little awkward but communicating.  He could at least tell she was not angry with him, just still keeping her distance, both physically and emotionally.

Finally, Rollin offered, “I thought you might want to go to dinner, I hear there is a great singer this week a that cabaret we went to once in West Hollywood.”

Going out was the last thing Cinnamon wanted but could see he was doing his best to be supportive and had not yet mentioned his unreturned calls.  As she didn’t feel like a confrontation, she agreed and went to change.

Rollin did most of the talking during dinner.  When the entertainment started, they sat quietly listening to the first set.  When the singer took a break, Cinnamon indicated she was ready to go home.  Although early for them, Rollin agreed and drove her home.  When they arrived at her apartment, he did not ask for an invitation in, not knowing what the answer would be, but simply led her up and opened the door with his key.  Once inside, he busied himself with fixing an after dinner drink for them both.  He then found her on the balcony, leaning against the railing, looking out across the valley. 

“Here you go.” He handed her the cognac.  They stood side-by-side for several minutes silently staring out into the night.  Rollin finally turned towards Cinnamon, unable to resist reaching out to her, emotionally and physically. 

“Cin…” His hand went to her arm, his voice was soft and uncharacteristically insecure.  “Are you doing ok?  I wasn’t really sure if you wanted to see me or not.”  When she didn’t immediately respond, he went on, “I’m glad you let me in.” His last words having, he hoped, a double meaning that she would open up to him about what was troubling her.

She always craved his touch and it surprised her that she felt the need to pull away from him, not wanting him close.  “Rollin, I just needed to be by myself for awhile, ok?  I tried to tell you that.”

“I know,” he replied, “but I also think you need to talk about this.”

“Oh, well THANK YOU, Doctor Hand.” She shot back angrily.  “What other diagnoses have you made about me and what I experienced?  You and Jim and Dr. Green going to conduct a symposium on the psychological analysis of my ‘capture’?”  She turned and walked away from him into the apartment. 

He followed; knowing that perhaps the only way he was going to get her to talk was to provoke an argument.  It might not be pleasant for him, but her needs were at the forefront.  When he had caught up with her, he responded, “I’m not a doctor, but you are obviously NOT alright over this.  You haven’t left the house all week, you’re not answering the phone….”

She cut him off, “Oh, I didn’t realize I was under surveillance.  Ok, if you’re the expert, just how do you want me to deal with this?  Therapy?  Hypnosis?  Poetry?” 

He ignored her sarcasm, “I don’t know, Cinnamon, talk, cry, scream, hit me, do SOMETHING!” he pleaded and grabbed ahold of her arm for emphasis.

“I AM doing something,” she shot back, trying to pull her arm away from him.  Her jaw was clenched and her voice growing louder with each protest, “I’m trying to move on.  I’m trying to forget it happened.  I’m trying to forget I was strip-searched.  I’m trying to pretend they didn’t try to kill me.  I’m trying not to have nightmares about how I almost spent the rest of my life in a tomb…” her voice broke as she fought back tears, “I’m trying to pretend I didn’t almost tell them everything…” With this last confession, she sobbed, unable any longer to hold back the anger and tears she had denied herself all week. 

Rollin, still holding onto her arm, reached out for her as she collapsed against him.  He couldn’t make it to the couch and pulled her with him to the floor.  By this time, she was crying uncontrollably and he held her tightly, letting her cry, whispering soothing words to her and stroking her hair.  In all the years he had known Cinnamon, he had never seen her like this.  

He let her cry until she was exhausted then spoke to her quietly, “Darling…you’re safe now.  I’m here, I’ll always be here for you if you want me.” 

She tiredly nodded and murmured into his chest, which was wet from her tears, “I’m sorry”. 

“You didn’t do anything to be sorry for.  You were so brave, Cinnamon.  I’m so proud of you.”  He held her for awhile longer, her head now in his lap, until her tears subsided.  When he realized she was falling asleep, he quietly got them both up from the floor and carried her to the bedroom. 

As he undressed her and put her into bed, she sleepily reached for him, “Rollin, please stay with me…please don’t leave me.”  He assured her he was not leaving and turned off the lights in the living room where they had their scene.  When he returned, he saw that she was already asleep.  He undressed and quietly joined her, wrapping his arms around her and resting his face in her hair.  He fell asleep hoping he had helped her start to cope with her ordeal.

Several hours later, Cinnamon’s hands caressing his chest and beginning to move down his body slowly awakened Rollin.  “Cin?”  He wasn’t sure if he was dreaming or not.

“Rollin,” she murmured, “Make love to me.”  She kissed him deeply, which immediately woke him up fully. 

“Are you sure?” He didn’t have any doubts but wanted to make sure he wasn’t taking advantage of her emotional state.

“Yes, please, I need to feel you close to me.  I need to feel you inside me.” She reached for him and began stroking him until he was fully erect in her hand, which didn’t take long.  

They made love slowly, Rollin taking care to make sure she could feel his love for her in his kisses, his words and his touch.  After several minutes of touching her breasts and stomach, he moved his hand to caress her legs, God, he thought, he loved her legs.  As a matter of fact, he realized he loved everything about this woman, including the vulnerability she had shown him this evening.  With that thought, he moved over her, seeking her face in the twilight. 

“Cinnamon” he whispered.

“Yes…” she replied, the desire thick in her voice.

“I love you very much.” 

She responded by pulling his mouth to hers and kissing him as she wrapped her legs around him, inviting him inside her.   He obliged and began to please her with his long, slow thrusts.  When she felt she could no longer stand it, she grabbed his shoulders, encouraging him to increase his strength and pace.  She began to moan in rhythm with his thrusts. 

Knowing he was driving her wild made him almost unable to restrain himself but he held on, wanting to please her before himself.  When he thought he could no longer go on, she cried out his name as she climaxed.  Hearing her say his name with such passion was all he could take and with one final thrust he released inside her.  

Still breathing hard, she pulled him down to lie on top of her and whispered in his ear, “I love you too.” 

Betsy Nicholas

<return to retirement>