by Tricia Owens
"Why did you trust him?" Haney asked Bee in a pain-wracked voice. His light green eyes filled with tears. "You should have kept me safe from him."
"I didn't know," Bee sobbed, tearing at his own hair.
"Don't trust him," Haney whispered. "You can't trust him."
Bee screamed as the other man's eyes rolled up into his head. He heard low, mocking laughter.
Starr smiled at him and brought the blade to his lips. "Three down, two to go…"
Bee shot upright in the sheets of his bed. His T-shirt clung wetly to his chest. He raised a hand to his heart and felt it thundering beneath his skin. Dream, he told himself firmly. Wasn't real.
When his heart had calmed somewhat he slipped out of bed and into the hall. He let himself into Haney's bedroom and closed the door quietly behind him. Once beside the other man's bed Bee sank to his knees on the carpet. He had to touch Haney, had to be sure that this wasn't the dream.
Haney's eyes fluttered open at the touch to his cheek.
"Hey, big guy," he murmured sleepily. When Bee's expression registered through his drowsiness he caught the larger man's fingers. "Bee, what's wrong?"
Bee sucked in a shaky breath and managed a smile. "Nothing. It's nothing."
Haney frowned, climbing higher into wakefulness. "Why do you have that look on your face? You look... scared."
"Just let me watch you sleep, okay?"
Smiling bemusedly, Haney scooted back on the mattress and lifted the sheet. Bee slid into the warmth and pulled the smaller man tight against him.
"You're heart's going crazy," Haney said, studying the other man's face. "This isn't nothing."
"Yes, it is," Bee murmured, pushing Haney's face against his shoulder. He smoothed his hand over the short blonde hair. "It was just a dream, Haney. Just a dream."
The words were more to convince himself than anything.
~~~~~
Black's PRU buzzed six seconds before his alarm went off. He rolled over and blindly slapped his hand down on the alarm before fumbling for the Personal Retrieval Unit. He was too tired to find the No Video button.
"Well, good morning, beautiful. Rough night with the captain? You look like hell."
"What do you want?" Black grumbled, dragging a pillow over his eyes.
"Just thought you might like to know that our resident empath is currently passed out on the front steps of the Clubhouse." Jake laughed. "I always figured we'd end up with some bum on our porch. I just never thought it'd be one of our own."
Black filtered the other man's words through the tribal beat that pounded against the interior of his skull. "You're joking."
"Would you like me to take a photo?" Jake offered happily. "It might come in handy later."
Black's first reaction was to demand if Jake had done something to the empath while Black was off with Dickerson. He shelved that idea, knowing it would be wiser to get all the facts first. He shoved away the pillow and sat up, his eyes closed as he rubbed his hand across them.
"Stay in the Dugout. I'll take care of this. Don't tell the others. That's an order, Jake."
Black raised a hand to his throat but when his fingers touched the skin, a shiver passed over him.
"Black." Jake's voice was subdued. Concerned. Black didn't want to hear it. "Where did you go last night?"
"It doesn't concern you," Black replied, staring at the sheets of his bed as a memory washed through him. Sickness that had nothing to do with the alcohol he'd consumed made his stomach heave.
"The hell it doesn't," Jake retorted but his voice was still soft. "Just tell me he doesn't hurt you, baby. Just tell me that."
It was the endearment that reached him, touched him when he couldn't stand to be touched. He glared down at Jake's face on the screen. "I said it doesn't concern you. Leave it alone." He could read the stubbornness on the other man's face and wondered yet again when and how it had gotten to this point, that Jake was so possessive. Knowing the other man would continue to harass him about this until he was satisfied Black gave in, just a little. "He doesn't touch me, Jake. Leave it at that."
"Every time you come back," Jake said, his thumb visibly stroking the side of the screen, "you're unhappy. Tell me what he wants from you. Please, Black."
But Black had shared all that he wanted to on this topic. "Drop it, Jake. Forget it. The funeral is today. Please make sure Haney and Bee are ready. I won't have us late for the service."
Jake's face clouded. "Of course we won't be late, but damn it--" Black shut him off.
He tossed the PRU to the nightstand and swung his legs over the side of the bed. He moved shakily to the bathroom and threw water into his face. He spent more time than he should have staring at the face he saw in the mirror.
~~~~~
He nudged the empath in the ribs with his foot. "Get up."
To his relief Starr actually responded, squinting his eyes in the morning light. "Why hello, Darkness." The empath cleared his throat. "You look... better."
"I wish I could say the same."
Starr gave him a weak smile as he maneuvered himself into a sitting position against the front door. Black squatted and looked him over disapprovingly. The empath was wearing his shirt inside out and backwards. His boots were unlaced. Black reached up and checked the pulse at his throat.
"You have a soft touch," Starr murmured. Black lifted his eyes, finding the green gaze thoughtful and free of its usual flippancy. "I should have guessed that about you. From what I've seen of you up here." The empath tapped his head.
Black dropped his hand, uncomfortable. "I could have you thrown off the team for what you did," he said. "You scored a hit last night, didn't you?"
Starr shifted and winced as cramped muscles protested. "You made me."
Black frowned. "What are you talking about?"
A craft drove past the house. Starr watched it warily, waiting until it had reached the end of the street and turned before responding. "When you came home last night you weren't blocking yourself from me. I could feel you."
Black forgot to breathe. "What did you--" No, forget that. He didn't want Starr to voice it, to try to come up with his own conclusions as to what he had sensed from Black. "It won't happen again. I'm sorry."
"Why are you apologizing?" Starr asked, his brow furrowing. Black looked down in mild surprise as the empath's hand settled over his own where it rested on his knee. "You can't help what you feel. You can't help it when you hurt."
"I don't hurt," Black ground out.
"Liar," Starr said, almost whispering the word. His hand tightened. Black told himself to fling it off. He didn't. Starr had a smooth palm. It felt warm over his suddenly freezing fingers.
Starr smiled a little. His thumb stroked lightly over the back of Black's wrist. "You can't lie to me, sweetheart. I'm an empath, remember? No one can know you better than I can."
Their eyes locked for a frozen moment. Black felt his knees tremble. He pulled his hand from beneath Starr's, pretending not to see the flash of disappointment in the green eyes. He straightened to his feet and deliberately used the position to look down at the other man. "Don’t leave the house on your own again, is that clear? If a situation calls me away again I'll provide you with a tab before I go. "
Starr tilted his head back, smiling tiredly. "Better yet why don't you just stay home with me? I'm sure I could be better company than you had last night."
Black opened the door, nearly spilling the empath inside. "No thanks," he said. But the answer didn't hold the bite that he wanted it to.
~~~~~
A funeral ranked right up there with outright death as one of the things Calyx dreaded most. He couldn't have handled it clean. No way. Death probably would have been preferable. But thanks to the little tab dissolving in his bloodstream courtesy of a clearly reluctant Lt. Black, Calyx was feeling nothing but good, thank you very much. He was probably the only one.
This pleasant little get-together was the culmination of a strange morning. Break
fast had been odd, to say the least. The big man with the baby face, Bee, who had seemed like such a nice fellow yesterday, had overnight jumped onto the watch-out-for-the-freak bandwagon. The man had watched Calyx eat as though the empath were a hawk looking to pounce on an unwary sparrow. The sparrow apparently being Haney. Calyx found the abrupt flip bewildering.
The psycho, Sola, wearing a dress uniform so starched it could have cut paper, had nearly gone ballistic when he'd seen Calyx's civilian clothes. Calyx wasn't disrespectful -- even he wasn't that big of a prick. He simply hadn't been issued a uniform yet. But his somber -- for him -- knee-length black coat and pants hadn't impressed Sola. Calyx was sure that if it weren't for Black's presence, Sola would have strangled the empath with his dress collar.
And Black -- Black didn't say a word. It had made it difficult to eat. It made every eye in the kitchen fall to him in a mixture of sympathy and unease, as if their leader wore a brace of dynamite strapped across his chest. Only Jake had braved conversation with him, the results of which had left the lapdog with such an expression of frustration on his face that Calyx had nearly laughed.
Now here they were, staring at two coffins draped with flags being lowered into the ground on the edge of Juxtapose City. Calyx could see the bridge from here, shrouded in fog. It looked skeletal, cold. He rarely made it outside the City. He'd been born in its alleys and he would most likely die there. To be outside looking in left him feeling strangely lonely. The press of people and their emotions, although his biggest burden, were also things he had grown used to. Go figure. He must be a closet masochist.
But no pain now. Calyx scanned the small crowd of men and felt himself drooling slightly. So many pretty boys, all in their shiny, pressed uniforms. There was something to be said for a crisp, dark suit that stretched across the shoulders and tapered at the waist. His eyes settled on his own team. Hmm, even Jake looked somewhat delectable. Without his smart mouth, with his face softened in grief, the light-haired sergeant could be an attractive man.
No one, however, compared to Darkness. Calyx sighed a little as he studied Black from beneath his lashes. The empath's mind fell gleefully into the gutter, fantasizing about stripping off that dark uniform to discover what lay beneath. Pressed up against Black yesterday he had felt something of the man's body, the tight, lean muscles. The Bliss in Calyx's system spurred him to imagine the feel of that firm body around his cock. Tight, hot, struggling just a little -- Calyx held back a groan, his heavily-lidded eyes lifting to Black's face.
Ah, well. That was where the fantasies ended. Calyx turned away, watching Captain Dick toss a handful of dirt onto the coffins. Whoever it was who had decided to make Black the commander of JC2 deserved to be shot, in Calyx's opinion. As good a job as Black supposedly did with the team right now he looked like a college kid playing dress up in his father's uniform. Normally Calyx wouldn't have cared. To hell with the JCPD; they’d written his death warrant. But Darkness called to Calyx, reminded him of himself in some strange way. Black didn't deserve to be here. He was too young to be thrown to the wolves of the Department. He was definitely too young to wear that expression on his face.
All Calyx could say was thank god for the Bliss.
~~~~~
"It was a good ceremony," Captain Dickerson told them. "Your men deserved it. The department will miss them."
Jake nodded, pretending to be moved by the man's condolences. Dickerson hardly knew Lucas and Max. His words were only that.
"Thank you, sir." Black shook their captain's hand. Jake watched his leader's expression for a slip, a hint that he was annoyed too. Nothing. "Your eulogy was appreciated by my men. It did Lucas and Max great service."
"I wish I hadn't had to do it," Dickerson replied gravely. Unlike Black his eyes lingered on the younger man. Black just looked away.
Like trying to read a wall, Jake thought, annoyed. He watched Black's eyes drift over to Starr who stood on the fringe of their group with a peaceful expression on his face. The empath noticed Jake's regard and smirked at him. It took all of Jake's will not to storm over there and smack it off his face. Yeah, he understood why Starr had to be high on Bliss right now but it wasn't right. Not at Lucas' and Max's funeral. Not after they had died trying to keep scum like him off the streets.
"Lieutenant Sundhill," Dickerson said suddenly, looking over Jake's shoulder. "I was afraid you wouldn't be able to make it."
Jake stiffened, his eyes going to Black. His leader turned slowly and for once Jake was actually pleased that Black possessed the world's best poker face.
The blond-haired leader of the first JC Unit saluted Dickerson. "Sir. I apologize for missing the service. I did my best to rearrange my schedule."
"We're glad you made it, aren't we, Lieutenant Black?"
"Yes," Black said impassively, extending a gloved hand. "Thank you."
Lieutenant Andrew Sundhill would always remind Jake of a surfer. He was the quintessential golden boy: blond-haired, blue-eyed with a tan even in the winter. Quick to smile, quick to charm; it was no surprise to anyone in the department when he'd been selected to head JC1. And no one had begrudged him the assignment because he wasn't just pretty teeth and hair: Sundhill had a record that stood up to anyone's. He was well-respected by the entire department. He was a legend in his own time. And in his own mind, Jake thought. A man, Jake secretly suspected, who was Black's unspoken idol.
You wouldn't guess it to look at Black, however. JC2's leader looked as thrilled to see him as he would a drug dealer. "I'm glad I've never had to return the favor for JC1," he said to Sundhill.
Sundhill enfolded Black's hand in a two-handed grip. "It's difficult, I know, lieutenant. I sympathize greatly. Three men in less than a year... you're very strong. You have my admiration."
"There's nothing to be admired for," Black said crispy, retracting his hand. "My men are dead and I'm not. That's nothing to be congratulated for."
Jake winced.
Sundhill inclined his head respectfully. "You're absolutely right. I don't envy you."
"Lieutenant Black is aware that misfortune finds even the best prepared teams," Captain Dickerson said, laying a fatherly hand upon Black's shoulder. The older man's face creased into the perfect picture of understanding and support. "That which does not destroy us makes us stronger. JC2 will be a more effective team for what we've learned here."
Russet eyes looked inward, studying something only Black could see. "Yes, sir. Yes, it will." Dickerson and Sundhill looked at him before exchanging glances over his head.
Not liking the attention being focused on his leader, Jake thrust his hand out to Sundhill. "Sergeant Jake Cole, sir. I hope you remember me. Thank you for being here."
Sundhill smiled a little at his obviousness and shook Jake's hand. "Of course I remember you, sergeant. You're the lieutenant's second-in-command." His blue eyes shifted briefly to Black. "I hear you're a source of great support in JC2."
Jake almost lost his polite smile. So, Sundhill knew about his and Black's relationship, did he? Great, just great. He wondered what other gossip had made the rounds.
"I hear you've acquired a new member," Sundhill added as if in answer. His eyes twinkled. "An empath, as I understand it. How is that working out? Think it's something that will spread to the other teams?"
He was referring to Starr as though he were a virus, which in private company Jake would have agreed with. But he would never admit that to Sundhill. No way. Jake smiled hugely. "Actually, sir, we're all looking forward to working with Agent Starr. This may give us the advantage on the streets that we've been looking for. As I'm sure Lt. Black will tell you we expect to surpass every goal we've set for ourselves with the team's new addition."
Black looked at him blankly.
Sundhill laughed, clapping Jake on the shoulder. "Nice, sergeant. Glad to hear it. I was afraid the empath would be more of a pain in the ass than a help. I'm looking forward to hearing about your exploits. I'll be following along closely. As will all o
f us in the department."
Exploits? Jake thought, scowling inwardly. Who the hell did he think they were, a bunch of deep sea adventurers? And what was that jibe about the department? Jake could just imagine what was going down at the station: betting pools galore, everyone wagering on how badly JC2 fucked up its next big deal. Well, Jake sure as hell didn't like having Starr on the team but he wasn't going to let the freak screw things up. JC2 had a reputation to salvage.
"I'm sure you'll be impressed with what you hear," Jake said pleasantly.
Sundhill smirked. "Yes, I'm sure we will. Well, if you'll excuse me, Lieutenant Black. Sergeant Cole. I'd like to have a word with the others." Sundhill saluted the captain and nodded at Black. "I wish you luck putting your team back together. You've got your work cut out for you."
Black returned the nod wordlessly.
Captain Dickerson murmured something into Black's ear before he too walked off to make the circuit of the funeral goers. That left the men of JC2 alone and Black staring blankly at the two holes being filled with dirt.
Jake didn't hesitate, willing to be rejected. He stood behind the other man and placed his hands over the stiff shoulders. When he wasn't immediately shrugged off he began kneading the rock-hard muscles beneath the fabric.
"We're going to be fine," Jake murmured, digging in with his thumbs. Black was so tense the massage had to hurt but the other man didn't make a sound. "JC2 is solid. Bee and Haney are as strong as ever. Sola's a hard-ass but he knows his job. Starr will take some getting used to but it'll happen. Relax, Black. We're gonna be okay."
Black finally reacted then, bringing his gloved hands up to his face and covering it for a second. He immediately dropped his hands again but the action had been telling. Jake didn't care who the fuck was watching; he drew Black back against his chest and hugged him. For once, Black was too tired to fight the embrace.