“Oh god.” Fillion stopped laughing long enough to ask, “Certified and registered?”
“Hellz yeah. We’re now immortal.” Mack grinned. “The constellation is in this shape.” He lifted his middle finger.
“Nice.”
“I thought so.”
“Vows?”
Mack gave Jett a look of long-suffering. “Please, continue.”
“Do you, Fillion Malcolm Nichols, take Mackenzie Patton Campbell Ferguson the Third to be your lawfully wedded husband?”
“Wait.”
Jett sighed melodramatically, but finished with a kind smile for Fillion.
“Does Ha—”
“Yes.” Mack lowered his voice. “Nothing has changed or will change. I made sure of it.”
Fillion was still for three seconds. Fifteen seconds. Finally, he said, “I do.”
Mack barely heard Jett repeat the same words as his mind started whirling around. His friend was growing more tense, even lowering his head so his hair fell over part of his face. This was the posture of fear Fillion took when tormented by his DNA donor, who inserted himself as the constant voice of reason, the way, the truth, and the light. Whatever it is was that Fillion had promised Hanley as part of the contracted engagement, it was haunting him. The world around Mack faded to red. Yet, somehow through his inner-turbulence, Mack knew to say, “I do,” at the appropriate time.
“The rings?”
He reached into his pocket and pulled out matching black titanium rings, giving the one fitted for his finger to Fillion. Clearing his throat, he stood up a little taller, and in a quiet voice began. “Today I marry my best friend...” The words tumbled out awkwardly. He slid the ring onto Fillion’s finger. And, as he did so, all remaining humor fled. The seriousness of the words he memorized off a wedding site hit him. This was real. Holy shit.
“OK. Fillion?”
“Today I marry my friend,” he said quietly, eyes downcast. “The one I trust with my life.” Fillion looked like he was ready to say more, but sobered and looked away. The same way Lynden did when battling insecurity. With a slight tremble to his hands, he slid the ring onto Mack’s finger, his eyebrows knitting together, face paling.
“With the power vested in me by the state of Washington, I now pronounce you Partners for Life.” Jett smiled sweetly and said, “You may kiss.”
Fillion’s gaze flew to Mack’s. Mack smiled in response. His sexy smile. Fillion’s eyes narrowed just a touch and tapped the back of Mack’s hand once. In answer, Mack tapped back twice. Oh yeah. It was on.
A muscle in Fillion’s lower cheek twitched. Gray eyes slipped slowly to Mack’s mouth and lingered. Like he was undressing him, before raking his gaze back up to Mack’s. Oozing with the controlled, seductive movements that always drove the girls and boys crazy. But Mack saw the slight smile behind his friend’s invitation. Baiting smart-ass, calling his bluff. Not today, pretty boy. Mack cupped Fillion’s face and lowered, hovering just above his mouth until he felt Fillion tense in an “oh shit” pose of anticipation. Mack almost laughed. Almost. Instead, he played even more.
“I hope our children have your eyes, lover,” Mack whispered in his sexiest voice.
Laughter spurted from Fillion. Followed by a sound like he had held his breath, mentally escaping to his happy place until the deed was done. Mack was going to explode. Breathe in. Breathe out. Somehow he calmed himself sufficiently to move like he was going in. In the last second—at the point of no return—he diverted to kiss the tip of Fillion’s nose before backing up.
“My husband is shy,” Mack explained to all the spectators. The clapping and whistling grew louder. He winked at Fillion, who bent over while laughing. Unable to resist the temptation, he slapped Fillion’s ass, adding, “Soon.”
“No inappropriate touching,” a correctional officer barked at Mack. “Next time will result in your removal.”
His eyes widened. “Sorry. Got carried away in the moment, sir.”
“Let’s sign the docs.” Jett tugged on Mack’s arm and pulled him back to the table. “You sign here.” She handed the stylus to Mack who flourished the air with his signature. “Now Fillion.” He did the same. “And our witness.” Blue signed his legal name and shot Mack a pleading look. Mack nodded his understanding. He’d keep it a secret from the underground. “We’re finished,” she said to the overseeing correctional officer.
“Ready?” the officer asked Fillion. Looking to Mack, the officer said, “You’ll go to the private conference room first. We’ll bring him in afterward.”
He wiggled his eyebrows. “I’ll be waiting for you, bishounen.”
Fillion lowered his head to hide his smirk. God, he loved that smart-ass smile. Brightened his existence. Every. Damn. Time.
Mack shook Jett’s hand, kissed her on the cheek, and then trailed after the correctional officer. This was it. He’d waited weeks for this moment. And all Mack felt was a sense of dread. Hanley’s words spiraled through Mack’s thoughts until his gut sickened with clarity. His friend had sacrificed the very thing that would have ended all of his suffering. He was pretty damn sure of it. But why? The only reason Mack could conclude created a chill so violent, it caused his entire body to shake. The world faded to red once again.
The conference room boasted the same mucus shade as the rest of the interior. Who in the hell made this decorating decision? They should be forced to wear this discharge-inspired color for all of eternity. The cement flooring with mystery stains—one in the shape of Michigan—was no more inspiring. If Fillion were in state prison, they’d get to use a trailer designed for extended family visitations. Something not as pestilent as these walls. But, as this was holding for juvenile detention, newlyweds were assigned to a non-wired room sanctioned for private legal discussions.
The correctional officer reminded Mack that sexual activities beyond kissing were prohibited and grounds for immediate removal. Though his and Fillion’s time together was off-grid for prison standards, officers would interrupt every thirty minutes. Got it. Bonding through talking only. Preserve the innocence of adult incarcerated youth. When “the talk” was complete, the officer left, locking Mack inside the room.
It. Was. Maddening.
Jittery, his legs fidgeted, making the table jiggle—the one bolted down to the floor. Damn. That was talent. He knew his legs were powerful, but he didn’t how powerful until this moment. With these findings, he supposed he could forgive the detention center for forbidding him to wear his business skirt.
Maybe.
The light above mocked Mack’s eyes with its white, illuminating sneer. He squinted, sticking his tongue out at the incriminating glow. Yes. He had just taunted an inanimate object.
Sigh.
He looked down and blinked away the temporary black spots. A pen mark stained his pants above the knee. Fan-tast-ic.
What was taking so long?
He didn’t like this fenced-in feeling. The way to make him spill state secrets was apparently to confine and isolate him. While Fillion’s mind occupied him indefinitely, Mack needed a warm pulse to keep his beating.
Something to do.
His fingers reached up to his ear, itching to see otaku reactions. No Cranium.
Dammit.
Nothing. He could think of nothing.
Cross-dressing unicorns disco dancing while singing baritone opera in the Alps. Hilarious. Buuuuut ... no.
The struggle, it was real.
He needed an occupation for his thoughts. Stat.
Pulling out his cigarettes, he lit up. It helped. Took the edge off his escalating anxiety. He enjoyed a long drag and exhaled when he heard a click. The door opened and Fillion walked in, hair still covering most of his face.
Mack stood up, feeling weirdly nervous. Like right when he had greeted his friend before the ceremony. Nothing had really changed between them. It was all a sham. The marriage was a means to an end, even though they were more than best friends. More like brothers. Hell, Mack a
rgued their relationship went even deeper than that. But not lovers. Not husbands. Not in the truest sense, regardless of how they joked.
“Want a smoke?” Mack offered.
“Sure.” Fillion collapsed into a chair. Mack reached across the table and extended a flame. Fillion leaned in until the end of his stick glowed orange. “Thanks, mate.”
Fillion jerked the hair out of his eyes—finally! Mack was beginning to wonder if he’d get to see his face at all. Their gazes touched for a nanosecond before Fillion inspected the other end of the desolate room. His features looked tired and hard, broadcasting the wear and tear of battle fatigue. The fingers holding the cigarette began to quake like they had during the ceremony. Was this becoming common? Maybe Hanley was right. Maybe Fillion had cracked. Time to find out.
“No letters. No collect calls. After months of attempted connection. This kind of quiet isn’t your thing, boss.” Mack flicked his ashes. “My Fillion senses were tingling.”
“Web slinging?” A corner of his friend’s mouth lifted.
Mack shook his head. “No thrilling heroics these days. I’m being watched. Vicious spyware attack.” He put the cigarette in his mouth and said, “So I decided to interrupt your ghosting efforts in person. Bishounen, please tell me your deliberate silence isn’t some lame attempt to protect me?”
Fillion didn’t answer.
“I’m a big boy so stop it. My pillow needs to dry from all the tears I’ve shed over your pathetic efforts to push me away.” Mack paused when a shadow fell over Fillion’s face. Shit. What word triggered that look? It was the look of the disturbed. One that always made the hair on the back of Mack’s neck rise. Now grim faced himself, he quietly asked, “What’s going on?”
“Is she still alive?”
Mack’s forehead wrinkled with confusion. Had he not received his sister’s letters? Or his? Maybe all contact was blocked. That would explain many things. He exhaled a stream of smoke and considered Fillion again.
“Yeah, Lyn is doing great,” he answered casually. “Staying out of trouble, except when Coal’s around.” He paused again when Fillion flinched with his words. Fear flashed in Fillion’s eyes and disappeared just as quickly. Wary, Mack continued. “She’s moving in with me. Making me dinner tonight, too.”
Fillion glanced at the door then at his cigarette. “Is she still alive?”
“They can’t hear us. This is a secure room.” Mack angled his head to better see Fillion’s eyes. “Lynden is alive,” he said, slow and punctuated. “She’s even doing well with school for a change.”
Gray eyes locked with his and quivered. “Willow, is she alive?” Fillion tensed as if bracing for bad news. “You ... you can tell me. Let’s just get this over with.”
Mack’s face slackened with understanding. Oh god. Fillion thought he wanted privacy to share that Willow had died? A long breath left Mack as his shoulders slumped. He felt like an idiot. No wonder his friend seemed so jumpy and sullen.
“She’s alive, mate. So are Leaf and Laur—”
He stopped. Fillion wiped away a tear and ducked his head. Dark hair fell back over his face as he drew his knees up to his chest. He dragged on the cigarette that was shaking in his fingers, trying to cover up his emotions. But there was no hiding them. Fillion swiped away another tear as he exhaled, then another.
“Shit. I should’ve realized you meant her.”
“No worries, mate.” Fillion offered a feeble smile. “It’s all I’ve thought of since leaving New Eden. I’m cut off. Restraining order lifts the day before I own ...” His friend couldn’t finish.
“Yeah, I heard about the restraining order.”
Fillion winced again. “I can’t even receive news articles about New Eden while in custody.”
Mack nodded, but remained silent. He sensed there was more. And he was right.
“You seemed happy when I saw you last week,” Fillion said. “You wouldn’t mess with me. But I’m ... I’m...”
Too worked up, he left the words dangling in the thick atmosphere and puffed on his cigarette, eyes darting around the room. A chasm yawned before them. One Mack didn’t understand how to navigate across to reach his friend. Uncertain of what else to do, he walked over to Fillion’s side and sat on the tabletop next to his seat. That seemed to do it. A sob loosed from Fillion’s body almost immediately. He folded up, becoming small, looking frail. Fragile. But Fillion was a warrior. Hell, he was the God of War.
For this reason, the sound of Fillion’s grieving unleashed the hounds of hell inside of Mack. Everything flashed red then went dark. His thoughts. His emotions. Like a switch had been flipped. His entire body primed for combat with the rush of fury. Minutes flew by and Fillion eventually regained control of himself. Mack waited. Sensing his stare, gray eyes wandered over to Mack’s fiery gaze and a light sparked. He knew. Fillion had heard Mack’s silent battle cry.
It was time to “prepare for a necessary future.”
Time to snip the strings held by the great puppet master.
Mack half-whispered, “I have a plan.”
“I’m freaking out.” Fillion sucked in a ragged breath. “I feel like if I even make a tiny mistake, Hanley will hurt her to punish me. Or Leaf. But probably her. And I won’t know. I won’t know it’s happened until it’s too late.” Fillion looked at him. “Sometimes I think I’m locked up so that I can’t interfere like last time.”
“Wait. Hanley tried—”
“He’ll blame me!” Fillion grit his teeth as he grimaced. Anguish, pain, and shame hardened his features. “He’ll somehow twist it so that I’m responsible for what happens. And I’ll believe him. Because I ... I couldn’t save her. Can’t. I can’t save her.”
“What are you talking about?”
“I agreed to marry Akiko.”
“Agreed?” He stared at Fillion in disbelief. Mack was right about his earlier fears. And that pissed him off even more. “You have a zombie chick who has claimed your soul and your brains. For years. She had infected you way before she emerged from the grave. You’re mental for her. Literally. But you agree to marry Akiko? What. The. Hell.”
Fillion’s eyebrows pushed together. “Hanley’s requirement for revealing and protecting the Watsons.”
Mack’s mouth fell open. “Holy shit! He’s extorting you?”
“If I dox him, he said he would issue a restraining order against me—”
“Done.”
“Yeah.” Fillion studied the cigarette balancing in his fingers. “The threat was empty.”
“Then what’s keeping you from pushing the red button?”
Fillion’s shoulders elevated and he angled his head to the side. “I’d put the project at risk. And if he falls, then he promises to take the Watsons with him.”
“He threatened you with murder?!”
“It wasn’t said in those exact terms. But it’s what he wanted me to take away from the conversation.” Fillion pushed out of his seat and leaned against a nearby wall, jerking the hair out of his face. “I ... I have no proof he said it. No proof of anything. Not even what went down in New Eden.” He closed his eyes. “Hanley blames everything on me and Timothy. Except his brother gets to be locked away in an insane asylum. But his own son?” Fillion chuckled with ill-humor. “Someone has to pay for what happened.”
“Then press charges against Timothy. Hanley isn’t above the law. Something will come up. Guaranteed. Hell, I’m a samurai for hire. The gov can pay me to hack up details.”
“I promised Leaf I wouldn’t. For Skylar’s sake. That was also tied up in the agreement with Hanley.”
A bomb of swear words exploded from Mack’s mouth.
Fillion lifted a single shoulder in a weary shrug. “Justice isn’t the same in New Eden as it is here. Hard to explain.”
“So you’re really going to marry Akiko?”
“What choice do I have?”
“Uh, I didn’t think there was a choice.”
Fillion turned his head away a
nd whispered, “Exactly.”
“No, I meant—”
“I know what you meant. Just drop it.”
“Fillion—”
“Drop. It.”
Mack blinked back his surprise. “Sorry. I can’t parse that.”
His friend lifted his gaze and gritted between clenched teeth, “Because I’ll own her.”
The world fell away beneath Mack’s feet. For a few seconds, his heart and mind disconnected as a tsunami of thoughts hit him all at once. A crushing pain pressed the air from his lungs. Did Lynden know about Coal? He chanced a look at his friend and the suffocating pain intensified.
“That’s sick,” he whispered. Fillion didn’t reply. Just wiped away another tear. “I had no idea, mate.”
“I found out after I was removed from New Eden.”
“Maybe she—”
“No.” Fillion locked eyes with him. “She can’t be my mistress. Her culture would punish her for immoral behavior. I won’t do that to her and Leaf.” He lowered his head. “Hanley said she’d never be mine before I entered New Eden ... But I never guessed...”
“The hell with Hanley. That bastard can go pound sand.” Mack walked over to Fillion and leaned in close. “I have a plan—” The door opened and a correctional officer entered. “Damn your lips are smexy, lover,” Mack said to Fillion, leaning in closer, before feigning surprise. He sighed dramatically, as if disappointed by the interruption. “Only kissing, nothing more. Girl Scout’s honor.”
The correctional officer peered at Fillion. “Everything OK?”
“Yeah. Peachy.”
“Knock on the door if you’re done sooner than your scheduled time.” The officer considered Mack one last time before exiting.
“Well, that’s awkward.” Mack leaned in closer. “But your lips really are smexy.” Fillion smirked and combed his fingers through his hair. “Especially when you do that.”
Transitions: Novella Collection (The Biodome Chronicles series Book 2.5) Page 23