Ross and Ashton

by J. V. Speyer

  Ash laughed a little. Assault on a cop?

  And then I’ll give my name as that sow from CBS who keeps trying to steal my scoops. She sent him a grinning emoji and continued. Seriously, though, if your feelings are still so strong however many years later that you’re getting into screaming matches, do you think there might still be something there?

  Ash’s face burned with shame. He definitely wasn’t going to tell her about last night. I mean, yeah, I still have feelings for him, and about him. But he didn’t even recognize me when he saw me, and he’s still resentful that I wouldn’t come out back when we were in college. Even though he knows what the consequences were when I was outed, so there’s that.

  Yikes. That’s rough. But hey—at least you know someone on the ground there, right? If you can patch things up enough to be friendly, I mean. You don’t have to get back together with him, but you can meet up for a drink now and then.

  Ash didn’t want that. He’d never been just friends with Ross. For one thing, Ross hadn’t offered it the last time. Ash could either be part of Ross’ stable, but out, or he could be out of Ross’ life entirely. This time around, he didn’t think they could be friends at all. He was pretty clear about how unimportant I was, in the great scheme of things. ‘Get over yourself, you’re a nobody, nobody cares about any of that crap.’ He sighed and pinched the bridge of his nose. He needed to change the subject, so he didn’t think about the fight. I should only have to be here for a few more hours anyway. They say they’re working their way toward us.

  That’s good to know. Hopefully you’ll get to safety sometime soon, right?

  They ended their chat, and he got out of social media. Maybe if he found a book to read, or got to work on a book, he’d have an easier time putting the fight out of his mind.

  He started reading a book he’d picked up for his own entertainment, about prostitution in old New Orleans. He plowed his way through the first few chapters, only stopping when his boss John called him. “How are you holding up, Ash?”

  Ash considered. “I’m a little hungry. I don’t mind admitting it. They told Ross—the state trooper—they’re on their way, so hopefully it won’t be long before we’re out of here.”

  “Yeah, I’ve had one of the interns hitting the Massachusetts Emergency Management Agency up for updates every half hour. They’re working their way to you, but it’s going to be a while, you know?” John sounded like he was trying to break it gently to Ash. “They’re moving an absolute ton of snow and finding all sorts of things when they do. It’s a problem.”

  “Okay. No problem.” Ash cringed. The reporter in him wanted to ask what exactly rescue crews were finding. The rest of him, the part of him that had already seen too much grief and misery out there in the world, didn’t need to know.

  He ended the call with John and checked the time. Porthos could stand to be fed. He didn’t think they’d get to a point where they’d have to drop Porthos to half rations, but anything could happen, he supposed. He didn’t get this far by making assumptions about things like that.

  He fed Porthos and sank back down to the ground. This room was chillier than the other one, and it would be better if he could share some heat with Ross. Granted, right now he wanted to share body heat with Ross about as much as he wanted to jump right back out into the snow.

  That wasn’t true, and he admitted it to himself as soon as the thought popped into his head. He wanted to be curled up around Ross, even though he was angry enough to shake. It had been a long time since he’d been with someone who knew him well enough to get to him that way. He hadn’t been avoiding intimacy, his life just didn’t lend itself to that kind of connection. And to be honest, it felt good to have someone around who could get that pissed off at him, who wanted to get to him that badly, who wanted Ash to feel something.

  It also hurt almost as bad as Ash’s stiff joints and aching chest, but he guessed he couldn’t get the silver lining without a few clouds.

  Porthos cuddled up beside him. The poor little guy was cold too. Ash tried to lay his blanket over both of them and curled around him. Porthos wasn’t quite the same as a nice, muscular cop, but he’d been there for Ash more often than Ross and Ash adored him. “You’re such a good boy, Porthos.” He wrapped one arm around his furry companion. “We’ll get out of here, don’t you worry.”

  What if he never got into a fight with Ross? If he’d managed to keep from getting goaded into it, would they have kept in touch? It looked like Ross had kept in touch with most of his other exes over the years, every time Ash checked his social media. Ash was the only one, apparently, who Ross couldn’t stand to be around.

  The thought brought him down again, and soon enough Porthos was nudging at his hand. He did that a lot, when Ash got to feeling maudlin or whatever. He wasn’t certified as an emotional support animal, but he took that role on himself pretty well. He couldn’t distract Ash completely from his sadness about Ross, though.

  Why was it that Ross could stay on good terms with every one of his exes, except for Ash? For that matter, why was Ash simply unable to stay on Ross’ good side?

  He grabbed his tablet and opened up his book. It was too early for sleeping, but he could certainly stand to read.

  In the other room, Ross’ radio crackled to life. “Huber, this is dispatch. I hate to be the bearer of bad news, but your extraction is going to be delayed by another few hours. They found remains.”

  Ash’s ears perked up. Was this the all sorts of things John had been referring to? He sent off a text message quickly, straining his ears.

  “Jesus Christ! What did you find?” Ross’ shock wasn’t feigned.

  “Family dead of CO poisoning, and a tow truck driver dead not far away. It looks like he got hit by a plow, but that’s just a preliminary guess. We’ve got lots of other possibilities. We need to process the scene and see what the facts tell us.”

  “Hence the delay,” Ross said, echoing Ash’s thoughts. “Well I can’t exactly object. I won’t pretend I’m not in a hurry to get out of here, but it’s not like you can drive rescue trucks through a crime scene.”

  “No, the techs get all kinds of mad about that.” Dispatch laughed. Her laugh sounded a little strained, but at least she was making the effort. “I won’t lie, Huber. I saw the pictures. It’s grim. But we’ll get you out of there before your stomach eats your spine.”

  “Roger that. Huber out.”

  Ash closed his eyes. He couldn’t get mad at Ross for wanting to get out of here. Ash wanted to get out of here. He wanted a proper shower, clean clothes, and something to eat. And he wanted to get away from Ross and all of the bad memories that suddenly overwhelmed him.

  But he’d have to hold out a while longer. At least they had separate rooms. He just had to convince himself that was a good thing.

  Chapter 6

  Ross called headquarters after a couple of hours. He wasn’t nagging. At least he didn’t mean to nag. He was just bored. He’d thought police work would be danger and excitement, car chases and donuts. He’d had plenty of danger and excitement of course. A routine traffic stop could turn into a shit show at the drop of a hat, and oftentimes it did.

  There was plenty of boredom, too. Ross spent plenty of time sitting around and waiting for someone to drive by doing something stupid, just so he could turn the sirens on. He spent hours on paperwork. And, of course, he was sitting here in the front room of a house he’d broken into, waiting for rescue like some helpless royal.

  Good God, this was boring. He couldn’t remember the last time he was this bored.

  At least before, he could sit and talk with Ash. Ash might be prickly, and resentful, but at least he was someone to talk to. He had things to say, for crying out loud. Ross had missed the chance to ask him about some of the countries he’d been in. Was there any beauty left in Syria, or was it just a microcosm of the Apocalypse? What about Iraq, or Yemen? And Colombia?

  Ross didn’t watch the news all that often. It was depre
ssing, honestly. It was just stuff he couldn’t do anything about, and things he wasn’t sure the US should be the ones to do anything about. He watched sports. He watched some local news, so he’d probably have figured out Ash was in town anyway.

  He’d never have realized exactly what Ash was up to. And he had to wonder why that was.

  Ash wasn’t talking anymore. He’d taken off to the other room, hiding away with that dog of his. Ross wanted to resent the retreat, but shouting at one another wasn’t going to do any good and letting things escalate was just downright unhealthy. Ash was probably right in hiding away. Ross should respect his decision and not go check on him.

  When Ross stuck his head into Ash’s room, Ash had fallen asleep. His arm was curled around the dog, and he’d curled up with his body around Porthos like Porthos was the little spoon. His tablet lay on the floor, dropped when Ash zonked out.

  Ash was asleep. Porthos was not. He let out a little growl when Ross stepped into the room, warning Ross off.

  Ross stepped back, hands up. “Easy there, big guy,” he said. “I’m just making sure everything’s okay.”

  If everything was okay, shouldn’t Ash be waking up? He had a Hellhound growling in his ear, for crying out loud. Ross changed his mind about retreating and stepped closer, and Porthos barked twice.

  This time Ash did wake up. He jumped, looking like he was trying to get to his feet. Then he caught sight of Ross and relaxed. “What’s up? Is the rescue team on its way?”

  Ross wanted to cry at the cold and indifferent sound in Ash’s voice. He knew it was a defense mechanism. He heard it from victims all the time, which was probably why it pissed him off at the same time. Ash was not a victim here. “No. They’ve been held up by something ugly.”

  “I heard.” Ash yawned. “What brought you in?”

  Ross took a deep breath and tried to control himself. He wasn’t here to get mad. “It was awfully quiet in here. I was worried. I thought you might be having problems. You know, from the carbon monoxide.”

  “Oh. No, just tired.” Ash gave him a thin smile and sat back down.

  “I’ll bet. You’re in a bit of pain. You’re probably not sleeping all that great.” Ross watched Ash carefully.

  Ash narrowed his eyes at Ross. “Yeah, well. It’s better than sleeping forever, I guess, so I think I’ll keep it.” He started to sigh, and then he stopped himself. “What are we doing here, man?”

  “Not dying in a snowdrift?” Ross leaned against the wall. He didn’t get any closer to Ash. He didn’t want to piss the dog off. He did, however, want to rest on something. Boredom did funny things to him, made his body feel tired out even when it wasn’t.

  Ash rewarded him with a huffed out little laugh, one that lit up his face. “Yeah, and that’s a good thing. I heard about that family. Scary.”

  “And the tow truck driver.” Ross shuddered. “My guess—and I don’t know much beyond what I heard on the radio—is that they were already dead when he got out to check on them. The poor guy died for nothing.”

  Ash looked away. “He died trying.” His Adam’s apple bobbed as he swallowed. “It’s a thing people do, you know? You did it for me, before you knew who I was.”

  Ross chuckled. The wall under him felt a little less stable than he’d have liked, but he himself felt less stable than he’d have liked. He wanted to go over and wrap Ash in his arms, but he wanted to yell about the comments Ash’d made about not being enough for him, and the dichotomy was kind of giving him a sense of vertigo. “It’s true. But I’m insured for that stuff. A plow driver is absolutely going to see me, because I’ve got those spiffy blue lights showing him exactly where I am. And if he doesn’t, my family will be taken care of until the end of time, courtesy of the Massachusetts taxpayers.”

  Ash snorted. “Yeah. It’s true. And no one’s going to take care of the tow truck driver’s family, but he knew it when he took the risk of checking on that family. I’d say that was pretty heroic, wouldn’t you? All he was doing was checking to see if they needed help.” He tugged at his collar and checked his phone. “The story’s gone out on the news, by the way. The station has set up a donation fund for the tow truck driver.”

  Ross gaped at Ash. “You called the station and told them?”

  “I could have just as easily been listening to the police scanner, Ross.” Ash closed his eyes for a second. “It’s hardly a matter of national security. The family has now been notified. And getting the information out there has let people choose to come together and help support the family of a man who was trying to do the right thing, and wound up dying. So maybe we can lay off the howling?”

  Ross stood up straighter, raising Porthos’ hackles. “I’m not howling, okay? I’m just—you can’t just go blabbing everything I say to the whole wide world. Some of the things I say are confidential, or sensitive. I can’t exactly step outside to take a call right now. I think it’s okay for me to be upset that you used my confidence to sit there and get a scoop.”

  Ash rolled his eyes. “First of all, it’s hardly a scoop. It’s a public interest story that allows people to feel they contributed to making things better. Are you forgetting five people lost their lives here? Journalists make calls like this all the time. Will reporting this story endanger anyone, and is it important enough for the people to know it that I have to tell this story anyway?

  “For example—if I know the government is deliberately sending troops into harm’s way in order to drum up support for an unpopular war, then yeah, I have an obligation to report it. People are choosing to enlist based on the idea that our troops our being slaughtered for a good cause when that’s simply not the case. If I know the military is about to go in and say, kill Bin Laden, then I have an obligation to keep my trap shut.”

  Ross glared at him. “It’s not your call to make.”

  “It’s exactly my call to make, Ross. My whole job is making sure the American people have enough facts to make rational decisions.” He rubbed at his face. “It’s different now, of course. I’m not out there in the trenches, dealing with international issues. I’m here, doing local news. But the tow truck driver was important to someone. My guess is that he was important to a lot of people, considering how many donations have already come in. And under the circumstances, no one can be hurt by withholding the information.”

  Ross shook his head. Ash had a lot of good points, but Ross wasn’t about to admit them now. “You get that I’m always going to be worried about whether or not you’re listening in and waiting for a good scoop, right?”

  Ash smirked, although Ross thought he picked up on a bit of sadness. “I think I can promise the odds of it happening are low, Ross.”

  Ross sputtered in outrage until the real meaning of Ash’s words caught up with him. “You don’t think we’ll see each other again.”

  Ash gave him a gentle look. “Come on. All we’ve done is fight.”

  “Maybe not all,” Ross tried.

  Ash rolled his eyes, but he laughed a little bit too. “Okay, maybe not all. But most of it. I want to have as conflict-free an experience in Boston as I can, okay? I get no one can just go about their life without rubbing someone the wrong way, but it’s just not…it’s not fun to be around someone I love and fighting with him all the time. It’s pretty miserable, actually. And I’m sure it’s kind of awful for you.”

  “Fair enough.” Ross turned on his heel and went back to his room, stunned. He didn’t know if he was more stunned that Ash didn’t want to stay in touch or that Ash said he loved him, but he was stunned.

  * * * *

  Ash stared at the ground for a while before struggling to his feet. Porthos looked up at him and tilted his head to the side, like he was curious about something, but he didn’t move. Ash looked at him. “Something’s not right,” he murmured to the dog. And maybe he’d finally lost his mind, talking to the dog this way, but he needed to express this somehow. “Did you see the way the wall gave, just a little, when Ross leaned agai
nst it?”

  Porthos padded over to the stairs.

  Ash’s heart sank. He didn’t want to be right about this. There were plenty of perfectly good reasons for a wall to have a little bit of play in it, weren’t there? Maybe it simple wasn’t load bearing.

  Who was Ash kidding? He’d never seen a wall that wasn’t load bearing, not once in all his years. He saw them sometimes on home renovation shows, but he’d never seen one in person. And a wall that wasn’t load bearing would have no reason to give. It would just hang out and divide things, in a plaster like fashion. He wouldn’t have any reason to fear.

  He wiped his palms on his dirty pants as he climbed the stairs. It had to be his imagination, the way they creaked and shook. He wasn’t at all imagining how narrow they were. It was like that time back in Yemen, when he’d had to climb out of a bombed- out basement.

  Okay, maybe it wasn’t exactly like that time. He had his fears, and the dark and narrow passage was definitely cramped, but the air was still clean. There was no fire and no stink of bodies. He would get out of this.

  He emerged with Porthos onto the second floor. It didn’t take much time to find a problem. All Ash had to do was look around. The ceiling sagged in a few places, with oddly colored liquid dripping from it like a coffee filter. Other places had spreading water stains, right there on the ceiling, and the ground underneath them was damp to the touch. “Ross,” he yelled. Jesus Christ, what was going on with this place? “Ross, you’re going to want to see this.”

  Ross’s heavy-booted feet rang out against the stairs, which apparently didn’t give him as many concerns or fears as they had Ash. “What’s wrong?” He stepped into the hallway. “That’s not good.” He looked over at Ash. “Where’s the attic in this place?”

  “I just got up here.” Did Ross expect Ash to have downloaded the blueprint for this place? This wasn’t television, for crying out loud. “Your guess is as good as mine. I hope it’s not one of those pull-down trap doors, though. I’m afraid of what would happen if we tried.”