Jon studied his face. Remembering what happened to Wreg at that house in Argentina, Jon sighed, cursing himself silently for being such an idiot.
"It's that Shadow thing," he said. "Menlim."
Wreg shrugged, his hand making a 'more or less' gesture in seer sign language. "Stupid, eh?" he said, smiling a little. "...I guess it spooked me. How much power that old fuck had over me, even after all these years."
"You fought him," Jon said, feeling a sharp, nearly overpowering swell of pride. "You kept your head on straight...more than me. More than Revik."
"Nenz has a lot more reasons to fear that old fossil," Wreg muttered. He met Jon's gaze. "Have you seen his back? Those scars there?"
Jon nodded, remembering that green-tiled cell in the Caucasus Mountains. Feeling his memories try to slide further down that path, he pushed them aside, nodding again.
"Yeah," he said, removing his arm. "I've seen it."
Wreg sighed, running a hand through his black hair. Feeling the weight growing on the other man's light, Jon found himself understanding something else.
"You feel guilty," Jon said, sighing for real that time. "Jesus, Wreg. What Menlim did wasn't your fault. Revik told me you weren't even around for most of that..."
Wreg waved him off, but Jon felt a pulse of nausea off the older seer.
"I knew,” the seer said simply. “Gods. Do you have any idea what kind of beatings he would have endured, to have scars like that, Jon? The fucker burned him with brands. He beat him down to the bone, then put beatings on top of that, before they'd even healed..."
Jon winced. Shaking his head, he shoved his hands into his pockets.
"No," he said. "I didn't know that." He watched Wreg frown at the carpet, trying to decide if he should approach him or not.
"Wreg," he said after another pause. "You already know why you stayed. You were completely hooked into his construct. Hell, Revik stayed, remember? The whole logic thing got turned upside down in that place, from what Allie told me. And weren't seers being tortured and experimented on and slaughtered during that whole period in history? I can see why Revik's thing might seem like a 'noble sacrifice' from that perspective. Revik told me he felt nothing but admiration for his uncle, and what he'd done to train him..."
Wreg gestured in affirmative, but his expression looked distant again.
Approaching cautiously, Jon slid a hand around Wreg's head, pulling on his hair. "Come on, man," he said. "You're all right. Honestly. If you're really worried about being vulnerable or whatever, maybe talk to Tarsi."
Wreg grunted. "That old woman's still pissed off at me for leaving the Adhipan," he said. "One hundred years, and she's still holding a grudge."
Jon smiled, but tugged Wreg's hair again. "Ask her anyway."
"Maybe I will," Wreg conceded. There was a pause, then Wreg’s dark eyes sharpened on Jon’s. "Why did you go into that crate, brother?” At Jon’s surprised look, Wreg pressed his lips together. “...On the sub. Why didn’t you wait for me? I told you that you didn’t have to do that, go into quarantine with the others. I told Jorag, too. He said you were down there when he brought the humans...already asleep."
Puzzled, Jon shook his head. "I honestly don’t remember that.”
Wreg grunted. “Of course you don’t remember it. You were asleep. But why did you go down there to sleep in the first place? I would have found you a bunk...”
“No,” Jon said, shaking his head. “You don’t get it. I mean, I don’t remember going down there at all. I assumed one of you put me in there. I don’t think it was me.”
Wreg stared at him. “You don’t think it was you?”
“No.” Jon pursed his lips, puzzled by the tense look rising to the other’s face. “Honestly, I figured it was you, that you changed your mind for some reason. You really don’t know who put me down there?”
“No,” Wreg said, his voice hard. “I have no idea, Jon.”
“And that’s weird because...?” Jon prompted. When the other didn’t reply, Jon tried again. “It had to be one of your people, right? If not Jorag, someone else. We were the only ones in that part of the base. Anyway, I kind of doubt Shadow’s people would have knocked me out just to leave me in that crate...right?”
Wreg only frowned.
For a too-long pause, the infiltrator’s black eyes remained sharp on Jon’s, as if trying to look through him. Jon could almost see the seer thinking behind that stare, although he had no idea what it was about. After a few seconds more, the ex-rebel sighed, clicking under his breath as he combed a hand through his shoulder-length black hair. Jon saw the instant Wreg decided to drop it, right before he motioned with one tattooed arm towards the bedroom door. He made his voice light on the surface, but Jon still caught the underlying edge.
“What about those books, brother?” Wreg said. “Can I get them?”
Jon just stared at him, frowning. Realizing again how tired Wreg looked, he decided to drop it. For now, at least.
“I'll get them," he said, gesturing at Wreg's hurt shoulder. "They're heavy. If you really want to carry something, let me throw some overnight stuff in a bag and you can carry that."
Wreg grunted. The last of that warier look faded from his eyes, though. "It's barely a scratch...you don't need to baby me, Jon."
Jon rolled his eyes, clicking mildly. "If I'm annoying you, just say so. Honestly. You don’t need to be so careful with me all the time...I can take it."
Wreg caught his arm before Jon could move past. The taller seer winced a little when he used the hand and arm attached to his hurt shoulder, but didn't let go.
"You're not annoying me, brother," Wreg said, his voice gruffer. “And I’m sorry for questioning you about the crate. I was worried. I still am.”
Before Jon could answer, Wreg pulled him against his larger body.
The Chinese-looking seer’s hands tightened before he kissed him, opening his light and his mouth, enough that Jon got lost there briefly. Wreg's fingers wrapped around the back of Jon's head and into his short hair, right before he opened his light more.
By the time they parted, Wreg had his light coiled tightly into Jon's, seemingly most of it somewhere in the area of his chest and belly and groin, intense enough that Jon found himself fighting to get his focus back, his personal space, and his breath. He'd almost forgotten how Wreg could be in that area; it still made his knees buckle when the seer kissed him like that.
Wreg let go of him reluctantly, responding to the push from Jon's light.
Fighting to get his breathing back to normal, Jon grabbed the gym bag, aiming his feet towards the chest of drawers by the king-sized bed in the other room.
He found himself going through his belongings almost randomly, selecting items without a lot of thought or planning. He tossed in a few shirts, jeans and underwear, along with two sets of clothes for mulei and some socks without thinking about whether he'd matched up the different colors and styles all that well. Realizing he still wore the organic combat boots, he threw a pair of sneakers into the bag too, before ducking into the bathroom long enough to grab the basics. Glancing around the room and frowning once he emerged, it occurred to him that he couldn't get out of there fast enough.
Guilt touched his light as he thought it, even as he glanced at the desk where Dorje's headset and a pile of his books still sat.
When he re-entered the next room, Wreg walked up to him, taking the bag off Jon's shoulder with his good hand and slinging it over his own.
"Get the books, brother," he said, nodding towards the bed. "The hotel staff can manage the rest. As soon as you decide where you want it."
Jon nodded, and started to comply, when he stopped, looking at Wreg.
"I don't need my own room," he said. "I don't know why I said I did."
A pulse of pain left Wreg's light, even as he glanced around where they stood. His eyes, too, lingered on Dorje's equipment on the desk, drifting past books to a section of clothes hanging in the closet. He nodded after another moment, his
throat moving in a thin swallow before he inclined his head to one side, looking back at Jon.
"Just tell me what to do and I'll do it," Wreg said, his voice tired again. "You don't have to give me an answer today."
Jon frowned slightly, but only nodded.
After the barest pause, he walked to what had been his side of the bed and knelt on the gold carpet. Squinting under the bedskirt, he found the pile of sketch books and began tugging them out from under the bed. As he stacked them one-by-one on top of the bedspread, Wreg walked closer to the bed, letting out a low grunt.
"You really hid them down there from Dorje?" he said.
Jon shrugged, pulling out the last one and brushing off his hands as he climbed to his feet.
"Yeah," he said. "He was pretty pissed off about the whole Feigran thing." Hesitating, Jon added, "...And about you. I didn't want to feed the flames."
"He told you about me?" Wreg said, startled. "Seriously?"
Jon gave him a disbelieving look. "Told me? How dumb do you think I am? You two fought right in front of me. Was I supposed to not notice that? Or ask him about it?"
"So he told you he'd filed a complaint against me?" Wreg said. "To Nenz, accusing me of poaching? And that he made me vow...in front of witnesses...to stay away from you?"
Jon stared, holding one of the filled-to-overflowing notebooks against his chest.
"No," he said. "There was actually some kind of legal thing? Seriously?"
Wreg snorted. He started to fold his arms before he winced, remembering the injury. Letting his arms drop back to his sides, he rolled his eyes. "There are laws against poaching among seers, brother. For good reason. In this case, mediation ruled that it hadn't been deliberate, which pissed Dorje off, I think...but they required me not to act on it."
"Not to act on what?" Jon said, still staring at the tattooed seer. "Dorje took you to some legal mediation thing because you were attracted to me?"
Wreg sighed a bit, as if in defeat, running a hand through his hair. "I forget sometimes you are new to this thing...that you were not born seer. If you can wait until we get up to the room, I can show you with my light. It's not likely to translate right if I just tell you..."
Jon paused at the door, fighting confusion as he tried to decide how to react to Wreg's words.
Watching him, the Chinese-looking seer smiled, then sent a pulse of heat that caught Jon off-guard. He felt Wreg react to the look that must have risen to his face, right before Wreg looked away. Shielding his light once more, Wreg made his expression neutral, but not before Jon felt a pulse of something else off the tattooed seer.
It felt like pain, too, but a different kind of pain, along with a grief that bordered on anger.
Wreg added sourly, glancing away, "...Let's just say I never quite forgave Dorje for refusing to get a private construct for the two of you."
Jon felt his throat close. "Wreg. Jesus––"
"...But Jon," the seer added, cutting him off, maybe deliberately. "You weren't the problem. I knew that, even before I knew you. My light was just ahead of my mind. Trust me, it got harder as I got to know you. Not easier."
Only half-understanding this, Jon frowned, but didn't answer.
He continued to watch the seer until he realized Wreg was waiting for him to open the door. Pushing it open, Jon held it for the other man, then followed him down the hallway towards the elevators. Even before he got to the end of the hall, he felt reactions trying to work their way through his light, enough that he had to fight to keep them from Wreg's view. In part to distract himself, he tried to decide with some semblance of objectivity just how tired the seer was, and how much he was willing to take advantage of that, versus leaving him alone.
When they reached the closed doors, Jon hit the "up" button.
That time, the doors immediately opened. Stepping on after Wreg, Jon found himself watching the seer again, in spite of himself.
When Wreg noticed his stare, Jon saw caution rise to the older man's eyes.
"What?" Wreg said finally. "Did I say too much again?"
Jon shook his head. "No," he said truthfully.
"Then what?"
Jon shrugged, feeling his face warm. "Honestly?" he said. "I was wondering if you'd let me order you around for a change."
Wreg looked up, his eyes holding a flicker of surprise, even as he reappraised Jon's light. Jon saw a whisper of a more predatory interest, right before heat expanded off him, briefly flooding Jon's light. Wreg suppressed it pretty quickly, but not quickly enough to prevent Jon from having a stronger reaction in his groin, or to suppress a return flush off his own light, hot enough to warm his skin. He smiled when Wreg looked away.
"I take it you like that idea," he said.
"I'm not adverse," Wreg said, his voice similar in tone.
Jon nodded, once, seer-fashion, shifting his weight and trying to hide his erection by moving his arms to keep hold of the awkward stack of sketch books and loose drawings.
"Fine," he said.
"Fine," Wreg repeated, nodding once.
When Jon glanced at the seer again, Wreg was watching him with narrowed eyes, examining Jon surreptitiously with pale flickers of his light that Jon figured were meant to be too subtle for him to feel. He felt desire there, enough that his body reacted again, and not just below the waist.
When they hit the sixtieth floor, Jon motioned for Wreg to leave ahead of him. As he did, Jon found himself scanning the seer just as surreptitiously as Wreg had him. As he'd suspected, the arm was paining him more than he'd let on. He followed Wreg to a door at the end of the hall, and pretty much as far from Revik's and Allie's as it could be.
Watching the seer fumble with the key card with his good hand while balancing the gym bag on his shoulder, Jon felt a sudden rush of that nausea-pain feeling, strong enough that he felt Wreg's reaction at once, even before he turned his head.
For a moment, the seer only looked at him.
Then the door lock clicked and his attention returned there as he used his hip and hand to push it open. Jon followed after him, still fighting that pain feeling, which seemed to worsen the more he watched Wreg. A twinge of guilt hit him as he wondered why it was hitting him so hard now, when the other was clearly in physical pain, not the other kind.
But Wreg must have heard him that time.
He gave a short laugh, even as Jon followed him into the new room.
"It just means you're more seer, brother," Wreg grunted, glancing around the room as Jon used his foot to finish closing the door with a click. "You can probably feel I need light. I'm in pain, so you're feeling that as well. Also..." He shrugged with one hand, smiling faintly. "...Seers tend to open more when they are injured. The needing of light is a turn-on for most seers." He glanced at Jon a second time, embarrassment coloring his dark eyes. "...Nenz and his wife. They first got together when he was injured. We seers are suckers for open light that needs its own. It feels good to give light, too...maybe you want that, as well."
Jon nodded, but didn't voice his own thoughts on the subject.
He felt that openness Wreg mentioned, as well as what lived beneath it. A softer vulnerability lurked there, so different from what he usually felt off the other man, even at his most open and affectionate, that it was making him hard whenever he got near Wreg with his light. Walking to the middle of the room, he distracted himself by looking around, then gazing out a long bay window that normally would have showed a view of Central Park aiming west, if not for the storm. As it was, he couldn’t see more than the edge of the neighboring Plaza Hotel, and the stretch of street abutting its entrance. Gazing down at the empty streets and overflowing gutters, Jon felt a flicker of apprehension in his gut, different from the pain.
"I guess we'll know if anything goes down nearby," he muttered. "When they come for us with the torches and pitchforks, I mean."
"Only if they come at night," Wreg said.
When Jon glanced over, Wreg averted his eyes, also looking around
the long room. That vulnerability still wafted off his light, tangible enough that Jon felt his tongue thicken.
"I hope this is all right," the seer added. "They wanted to keep the bigger suites for conference rooms, storage, that kind of thing..." He gave Jon a quick look. "You might not have an option, meaning in terms of being housed on a higher floor anyway, brother. You're a security priority now. More so than me. Nenz made that clear."
Jon grunted, not so much at the last thing, but at the idea that the room might not be big enough. He glanced around a second time.
The suite was larger than Allie's apartment in San Francisco, complete with what looked like a real kitchen, a full living room set by the fireplace, a kitchen bar with stools, a separate bathroom and a bedroom. It looked roughly the same as the suite Allie and Revik shared, only flipped in the other direction. Jon walked around the narrow alcove wall and found a second sitting area, too, with a feed monitor across one wall, a second fireplace and two computer stations with what looked like VR capability.
"Yeah," he muttered drily. "This really sucks."
Ignoring his words, Wreg walked up behind him, pointing at the monitors.
"I figured you'd need those," he said. "That Dante kid is a hacker junkie. We've already got her working on tracking down Shadow's next location."
Jon nodded, not speaking.
He paused in his appraisal long enough to drop the sketch books on the table by one monitor, but Wreg nudged his arm, motioning him over to another segment of wall instead.
Picking up the stack of books, Jon watched as Wreg opened the wall safe, one-handed. He'd already dropped Jon's gym bag in the other room, while Jon had been trying studiously to look at anything but him. Once Wreg finished with the complex-looking lock...a lock that probably had some kind of Barrier key attached to it, if not several...he opened a thick-looking organic door to reveal a wall safe with dead-metal walls.
"Not entirely dead." Wreg glanced up as he motioned for Jon to shove the sketchbooks inside. "Boss put a few surprises in there, too."
"Revik, you mean?" Jon said, frowning. "He must have done it before we left. Before..."
Allie's War Season Three Page 101