Chapter Text
Brad set his foot down, but didn’t shift his weight forward. He listened and looked. He saw only his fellow Marines around him and he heard nothing. Brad eased his weight forward, rolling it from heel to toe.
One more silent step taken.
Pfc. Christesen, Lance Cpl. Trombley, and Cpl. Stafford all accompanied Brad on this training mission. They were the least experienced, for all they were very highly trained Recon Marines. Brad had spent the week training and drilling them hard.
Tonight was their final exam.
The objective was simple and it was pass or fail. They either got in and out of the structure in front of them undetected by Pappy, Ray, and Kocher; or they were caught, and training resumed next week.
They reached the sand dunes outside of their objective and just as he’d trained them to do, each Marine took cover silently and strategically.
Brad assessed their surroundings and determined it was safe to proceed. He was just about to signal his team to move forward when the training ground floodlights lit up the entire area.
Brad swore under his breath. Something had gone wrong. If he and his team had been detected, shouting Marines would have surrounded them. Lt. Wynn would only have illuminated the grounds for something serious.
“Sgt. Colbert!” Wynn called through his bullhorn. Brad looked up to see the Lieutenant wave him toward the command Humvee.
Brad handed off his NVG’s to Stafford, gripped his weapon tighter and jogged toward his CO.
When he was close enough to speak to, Wynn exited the victor and asked Brad, “Sergeant, do you know a University student named Nate Fick?”
The world fell out from beneath Brad’s feet and took his stomach with it.
“I do, sir,” Brad answered. “He stays with me periodically when he needs a quiet place to study.”
“The police said he has no family in town which is why he asked for you to be located,” Wynn said, and Brad noticed the PFC standing flush-faced by the rear of the Humvee.
“That’s correct, sir.” Brad swallowed hard against his fear. “Please, sir … what’s happened to Nate?”
“Details are sketchy,” Wynn answered, handing Brad the slip of paper the PFC must have run out to the training grounds. “He seems to have been caught in the crossfire of a shooting downtown. The police want you to be assured he is okay, though.”
Brad’s hand shook as he took the paper from Wynn and he hoped no one noticed.
“Obviously training is halted for the evening,” the Lieutenant continued. “Hop in and we’ll run you to your personal vehicle so you can get to the hospital.”
“Sir,” Brad said in surprise. “Nate doesn’t qualify as immediate family.”
“Christ, Brad,” Wynn said impatiently. “A civilian is injured and has no family to look to him so he needs your help and you think I’m gonna hold you here?”
Brad didn’t know what to say. He hadn’t thought of it in those terms.
Pappy approached the Humvee and Brad handed off his weapon. “Sgt. Patrick, close up the training for the night and secure the gear.”
“Roger that,” Pappy replied without question as Brad slid into the back seat of the Humvee.
~*~
Brad raced through traffic on his motorcycle until he skidded to a stop in the parking lot of University Hospital. Following the signs, he bypassed the ambulance bay and found the sliding doors for pedestrians.
The nurse in scrubs behind the Plexiglas barrier directed Brad to a locked door that buzzed as he reached it. Another nurse stepped through and gestured him in. She led Brad down a corridor to a curtained cubicle. Sitting on the hospital bed behind the curtain, was Nate. Three people surrounded him in a surreal scene and he looked so small and so young. Brad’s heart clenched.
The woman standing behind Nate saw Brad and put her hand on Nate’s shoulder. “Your Marine is here,” she said softly.
Nate’s head turned slowly in Brad’s direction until their eyes met. The first thing he noticed was that Nate was doped to the gills. The second thing he noticed was that Nate’s eyes were filled with a soul-crushing sadness. Brad ached to go to him, pull Nate into his arms and take away that sadness but he was very aware of their audience.
“Officer Matlin,” said the female cop suddenly standing in front of Brad, hand extended.
“Brad Colbert,” he replied woodenly, shaking her hand. He had difficulty taking his eyes off Nate.
“Nate’s going to be just fine, Sgt. Colbert,” said the doctor working on Nate’s left shoulder. “You can take him home as soon as the police are finished speaking with him.”
Brad realized in that moment what was so odd about this tableau; all three people surrounding Nate were women. And, they were hovering. They were doting. Brad was going to have a field day with this just as soon as they got past the horror of whatever had happened tonight.
“What happened?” Brad finally had the presence of mind to ask the police officer.
“Apparently, Nate was downtown for a Friday night of fun. It’s pretty common for the kids from the University to congregate down there. He was just in the wrong place at the wrong time,” she explained. “Someone opened fire on the street on which he was standing. The young man next to him was killed and probably knocked Nate to the ground as he fell. Nate took one round in the shoulder and a good bump to the head, but he’s going to be fine, the doctor tells us.”
The doctor and the nurse were bandaging Nate’s shoulder now, and the doctor picked up the narrative. “The round didn’t go very deep; I was able to remove it with just a local anesthetic.”
The officer held up a plastic bag that contained a slightly mushroomed bullet.
“It was relatively undamaged,” the doctor continued. “This makes me think it passed through the young man who was killed before lodging in Nate’s shoulder.”
“So blood loss was minor,” Brad concluded and the doctor nodded her agreement. “He struck his head, though?”
“If he has a concussion at all, it’s very minor,” she replied. “He was alert and oriented from his first assessment on scene so we gave him something for his pain.”
“Okay,” Brad said, absorbing this all as rapidly as he would the changing events of combat.
“Ordinarily I’d keep him overnight,” the doctor continued, smiling at Brad. “But you’ve probably got training to deal with just these types of injuries, plus Nate tells us the two of you are friends with your company medic.”
“Yes,” Brad concurred.
Officer Matlin addressed herself to Brad again, “A Homicide Detective is on her way to interview Nate, but it shouldn’t take long. He didn’t see anything; he was caught in the crossfire of something that didn’t involve him.”
Brad new that was the farthest thing from the truth but he was thankful they weren’t going to have to lie their way out of Nate being labeled a prostitute.
“He’s all set,” the doctor declared. “As soon as the police are done with him, you can get him out of here.”
“Thank you,” Brad said as they all left the cubicle. He crossed to stand in front of Nate; wanting to reach out and touch him but not sure if he could do so without hurting him.
“They killed Kit,” Nate whispered brokenly so that only Brad could hear.
Brad wrapped his hands around Nate’s skull and pulled him in close. He lowered his head and whispered against Nate’s ear, “I’m sorry.”
“No, I’m sorry for dragging you into this,” he said against Brad’s chest. “I just didn’t know who else to have them call.”
“I’m glad you had them call me,” Brad spoke against Nate’s hair.
Brad’s cell phone chose that moment to vibrate in his pocket. “Fuck,” he whispered harshly. Taking it out, he saw the display read ‘Person’. Just fucking wonderful. He knew he had to answer or Ray would just keep trying to call.
“What?” Brad said shortly.
“Dude, Wynn said Nate was in the hospital. What the fuck?”
“He’s fine,” Brad said with less heat this time. “I’m with him now.”
“Yeah, well thanks for telling us before you high tailed it. You know you’re not the only one who likes the kid. I’m almost at the hospital. You in the E.R.?”
“Ray, no,” Brad protested. “I’ve got it under control.”
“Do you really?” Ray shot back. “They letting you take him home?”
“As soon as the police are done questioning him.”
“Police? Christ, Brad, is he in trouble?”
“No. Potential witness.”
“Okay, then. So, how you gonna get him home? Bungee him to the back of your bike?”
Brad squeezed his eyes shut and sighed in frustration. He’d been in such a fucking hurry to get to Nate he hadn’t thought everything through.
“Right. Ray-Ray to the rescue. I’m almost there.”
Brad pocketed his cell phone again. He placed a kiss on the top of Nate’s head. “Ray will be here soon.”
Nate sat up abruptly. “No, no. I don’t want a crowd.”
“I only have my bike. He’s got a car to get you home comfortably.”
“I need to talk to you.”
“I know. I won’t let him stay more than a few minutes. I have a few things I need to tell you, too.”
Nate nodded. “Okay.”
“I’m just glad you weren’t hurt any worse.”
“Like Kit?”
“Yeah. I am sorry about that.”
“Can I stay with you tonight? Please?”
“I said I was taking you home, Nate; home with me.” Brad felt a firm tug at his heart. “You didn’t think I meant that little cracker box of a dorm room we need to move you out of?”
“I’m so confused. I keep mixing up what I know, what I think, and what I want.”
“I know. We’ll both get squared away tonight.”
Brad could just begin to hear Ray talking his way into the cubicle area.
“He’s my Sergeant, what can I do? He needs a ride, I give him a ride. Nate’s a good kid, though. Him I don’t mind playing soccer mom for.”
Brad stepped back from Nate reluctantly as a nurse appeared around the curtain, Ray trailing behind her.
“I assume you know him?” the nurse asked Brad.
“Unfortunately,” Brad said dryly. “Thank you.”
Ray stepped closer to Nate’s bed, suddenly uncharacteristically subdued.
“You gonna be okay, Nate?”
“Yeah. Thanks, Ray.”
Nate’s doctor chose that moment to come back in. She gave Ray a double take, then smiled at Nate. “They’re multiplying. I’m jealous.”
Nate managed a smile for her. “Ray’s up for grabs but Brad’s off limits.”
“Oh, I know,” the doctor said.
Brad froze at Nate’s words, becoming very aware of the doctor’s sly smile and Ray discretely staring at his boots. It had to be the drugs. Nate was probably unaware of what he was saying.
“Okay, Nate,” the doctor said. “No driving for the next week. Any signs of dizziness or nausea, have your Marine bring you in.” She handed him a small white bag. “More pain meds. Take one every four hours as needed.” The doctor turned toward Brad. “Are you getting this? Cause he’s stoned already.”
“Yes,” Brad assured her.
“You need your wound cleaned and re-bandaged in about two days. If your Marine can handle it, great, if not, come in and we’ll get you taken care of.”
“Yes, ma’am,” Nate said placidly.
They all turned as someone came around the edge of the curtain. A man and a woman, each wearing a suit, regarded them all sternly.
“Nate Fick?” the woman asked, looking directly at Nate.
“Yeah,” he answered tiredly.
The woman stepped forward. “I’m Detective Emily Spencer,” she said politely. “I’m with Homicide. This is my partner, Detective Aaron Long.”
“Let’s get out of the way and let the police work,” the doctor said as she left the curtained area. Ray also stepped out into the hall.
Brad moved around to stand behind Nate. He stood tall and crossed his arms over is chest, daring anyone to try and make him leave.
“Who did this, and why Nate?” Brad asked, trying to get a read on the detectives.
The woman, Detective Spencer, looked him in the eye with a direct and friendly gaze.
“We don’t know. Vice has given us some information on local pimps who are actively trying to round up some of the free-lancing male prostitutes in the area. It’s gotten violent in the last year. In fact, the kid who was killed was victimized previously, along with another young man, just a few months ago.”
Brad arranged his features into a mask, using it to hide the fact that he and Nate had been involved in that incident. “Will you catch them?”
“I seriously doubt it, but we’re going to try. We’ll work with Vice and exchange information but we most likely won’t be able to identify the shooter, or the pimp responsible for the attack. I also fear things like this are going to continue to happen until all the free-lancers hook up with a pimp, flee, or are killed.”
Brad nodded his understanding.
Detective Spencer turned her attention to Nate.
“Now, I know you already told Officer Matlin what happened, but can you walk me through it again to make sure we got everything and I understand it accurately?”
Brad listened as Nate told them he was just looking to let off a little steam on a Friday night after four years of hard work and a week before graduating into the real world. He was on that particular corner at that particular moment trying to decide if he wanted to sit down for dinner or grab something quick further up the street.
He heard five loud, sharp cracks. Something slammed into his shoulder. A body fell into him, toppling him to the ground. He was stunned for several moments, probably from striking his head.
People stopped to pull the body from on top of him. They tried to stop his bleeding. The police arrived. The paramedics arrived. They found his I.D. in his jeans. They brought him to the hospital where the nice ladies gave him something for the pain.
“What’s your birth date again, Nate?” Detective Spencer asked without segue.
Nate rattled off the date without hesitation.
Brad watched the Detective smile slightly and hand Nate his University I.D. He smiled inwardly at her subtle verification that Nate was older than he looked.
“Just before this happened,” Detective Spencer asked. “Did you see anyone looking suspicious?”
“Nothing looked unusual or suspicious but I wasn’t paying close attention,” Nate replied.
“Did you see anyone with a gun?” she asked next.
“No.”
“And you heard five shots?”
“Maybe,” Nate answered shaking his head. “When I close my eyes and try to remember, sometimes I think I can count four shots, sometimes I think I can count five shots.”
“So, you must have been shot before you were knocked to the ground?” she made her question open ended to invite a full response from Nate.
“I don’t know for sure,” he answered, much the same as he had described before. “It happened so fast, as far as I know everything happened at once.”
Both detectives nodded and glanced at each other as if to confirm they were satisfied with what they had learned from Nate. Brad realized why; each answer Nate gave had varied slightly from the previous time he’d been asked the same question, but only in the manner of his answer. The content of his answers had remained consistent. He was telling the truth.
Brad new that Nate had most likely been the intended target, something the police would never know, but he really didn’t know anything that could help solve the crime.
“Congratulations on graduating next week,” Detective Spencer said with a friendly smile, her posture relaxing.
“Thank you,” Nate replied.
“What did you major in?”
“Business and Geo-polysci.”
The detective whistled her appreciation. “It was all I could do to finish my degree in Criminal Justice. Do you have a job lined up?”
Brad tensed. He knew Nate had accepted one of his job offers, but he’d refused to tell Brad which one. He’d refused to talk about it at all. He wanted to know Nate’s decision but at the same time he dreaded the finality of the news.
“Starting in the fall I’ve accepted an Analyst position with a local firm of political lobbyists.”
Brad released the breath he hadn’t realized he was holding.
Detective Spencer’s amused eyes flicked up to his briefly then back down to Nate’s.
“So, Nate,” she said, flipping a page in her notebook. “We can reach you at your dormitory if we need anything else?”
“Actually,” Brad spoke up, decision made in an instant. “Since he graduates next week, he’ll be out of the dorm. You can reach him at my house.”
Detective Spencer quickly wrote down Brad’s address and phone number as he rattled them off. Brad sensed Nate stiffen at his words but he didn’t give a shit.
“Okay,” she said, closing the notebook. “Take good care of him.”
“I will,” Brad said firmly.
The detectives said their goodbyes and filed out of the cubicle.
“Can we go now?” Nate asked, shoulders slumped and sounding very tired.
Ray stepped into the cubicle and smiled at Nate. “Your limo waits.”
Brad helped Nate into his shirt, being very careful of his wounded shoulder, conscious of every wince of pain.
“They were after me,” Nate whispered. “Kit got in the way.”
“I know,” Brad replied.
“I can’t go back there,” Nate’s whisper was broken. “I need to, but I can’t.”
“We’ll talk about this when we get home,” Brad said. “But you’re right. You’re not ever going back.”
~*~
Brad rode his motorcycle home, Ray following with Nate in his car. He settled Nate on the sofa in the living room, and then went to talk with Ray. Brad saw Ray was looking around, taking in a pair of shoes – too small to be Brad’s – the legal pad covered in notes written in a neat hand so unlike Brad’s, and finally the kitchen drainboard that held two of each dish, glass and piece of cutlery.
“He gonna be okay?” Ray asked, nodding in Nate’s direction.
“Yeah,” Brad replied. “He is now. Wrong place, wrong time.”
“He needs anything; you need anything, you call.”
“I will. He’s going to sleep for the better part of the next day.”
“You go to his dorm room tomorrow and clear out any sex toys or kinky shit he’s got there and me and the guys will pack it up on Sunday and bring all his shit here.”
“Actually, he had my car tonight. Can you take me to pick it up tomorrow?”
“You got it, bro.”
“And all the kinky shit is already here,” Brad said, feeling surprisingly light hearted.
Ray smiled. “Call when you’re ready,” he said, then turned to leave.
Just before he opened the door, Ray shouted into the house, “Hey, Nate? Next time; duck.”
“Fuck off, Person,” came the weak but spirited reply.
Ray left, chuckling.
Brad retrieved water bottles from the fridge and went to sit next to Nate on the sofa.
“Do you need anything?” he asked, handing Nate the open water bottle.
“No. Not right now.”
“Do you know which of the pimps came after you?”
“No, but it doesn’t matter. They’ve all been coming after me in the last few weeks, either directly or through the other guys.”
“Christ, Nate,” Brad sighed, suddenly very afraid of how close he may have come to losing Nate for good. “Why didn’t you tell me?”
“There was nothing you could do; it was my problem to handle.”
“A problem that damn near got you killed tonight.”
“I guess I have to stop working now.”
“I’ve wanted you to stop working for awhile.”
“I know. But that would have meant letting you take care of me. It’s bad enough, feeling like I don’t have your respect because I’m a whore, but to be dependent on you as well?” Nate glanced away briefly, as if searching for the right words. After long, silent moments he turned back to Brad, his expression sad. “And I still can’t help feeling you’re going to get bored of me and then I’ll be on my own again.”
Brad didn’t trust his own hearing. Nate’s words unlocked something constricting his chest. His response was heartfelt and unfettered. “You’re shitting me, right? You know I respect you for doing what you had to do to survive; make yourself into who you want to be. So what if you stay with me sometimes? So what if I change the oil in your car? I do those things because I care about you, because I want you to be happy, because having you around makes me happy.” He paused, exhaling harshly. “We’ve been here before, Nate; this isn’t new ground for us. But you know what I worry about?”
Nate shook his head slightly; he looked taken aback by Brad’s heated response.
“What am I going to do when your new life takes off and you leave me?” His voice was a frantic whisper, the strength of his emotions infusing every word.
Nate still seemed unsure. “I’m not leaving you. I won’t.” He paused, watching Brad closely. “Unless you want me to.”
So there it was. So much time wasted. So much worry and frustration and all along, each of them had been afraid it was the other who was going to walk away. Brad grinned and breathed a relieved sigh.
“The guys are gonna move your stuff out of your dorm on Sunday and bring it here,” Brad told him, watching as the implication of his statement sank in.
“They don’t have to do that.” Nate’s protest was almost by rote.
“No, they don’t,” Brad agreed. “But they want to. They consider you a friend.”
“I’ve got enough money saved to afford a small apartment until I start my job.” the stubborn set of Nate’s jaw was back.
“Nate,” Brad snapped in frustration. “Knock it the fuck off.”
Nate visibly sagged.
“You practically live here already. I want you here. Get it? Do you want to be here?”
Nate nodded slowly, his shoulders relaxing and his expression smoothing.
“Then use your savings to buy some new clothes for your new job,” Brad suggested. “You can start bringing home groceries now and then if you feel the need to contribute. Hang on to most of it for a down payment on a car when you start your job.”
They sat in silence for a long while. Brad just waited for Nate to talk. He’d been through a lot tonight and there had to be things still weighing on him. Now that the air was clear between them, Brad felt his patience was limitless.
“You heard what the detective said.” Nate finally spoke, his expression pensive. “My friends are going to end up hurt, dead or working for some worthless pimp.”
“Yeah, I heard.” Brad thought of the painfully young men and boys that frequented Nate’s street corner and all the years Nate had spent trying to protect them.
“I can’t leave them,” he said emphatically. “They need me.”
“You’ve done so much for them already,” Brad argued. “More than anyone can expect. You’re no good to anyone if you’re dead, least of all yourself. Or me.”
“I feel guilty for abandoning them to their fate while I go on and get this really great job and this really great b …” Nate bit off whatever it was he had been about to say.
“You aren’t moving on to anything you haven’t earned or don’t deserve.”
“I know that, but I can’t help how I feel.”
“I wouldn’t have you react any other way,” Brad said with a grin, affection for Nate unfurling in his chest. “But you are done whoring. For good. You get your degree next week. We spend the summer jet skiing, riding my bike, and all those other things you said you wanted to try. In the fall you start your new job and buy yourself a new car. I get to come home to you every night and cook you dinner, give you baths and sleep next to you.”
“But my friends are still out there, selling their bodies to pay pimps, getting beaten by tricks then dying young.” Nate seemed intent on torturing himself endlessly with circumstances he couldn’t control.
“So find a way to help them and others like them,” Brad suggested, resolving himself to the fact that emotionally, Nate wasn’t going to be able to walk away from the street. “But use your new education and your politically influential job to do it, instead of standing on the street corner along with them.”
Nate’s head swiveled around and he stared at Brad with wide eyes. “I could. I could do that.”
Brad reached out and brushed his fingers along Nate’s cheek. “I know you could. I know you will.”
Brad watched as Nate seemed to find peace with his decision. He saw when happiness and excitement began to creep into Nate’s eyes.
It felt as though everything had slotted into place.
“If we go to bed, do you think we can find a way to have sex that won’t hurt my shoulder?”
Brad smiled and helped Nate to stand.
“Of course. I’m a Marine; we make do.”
finis