The Walls of Troy

by L. A. Witt

  I hooked my foot around another chair and brought it close enough for me to sit beside him. I kept my arms around him, stroking his hair. “Easy, Troy,” I whispered. “You’re all right. You’re safe.”

  I didn’t know how much time passed. I thought I heard people moving through the foyer, and was vaguely aware of myself telling someone “he’s all right” before they continued down the hall.

  Eventually, though, he stopped shaking quite so badly, and his breathing evened out. He started to draw back a little, and as I loosened my embrace, I was startled when he loosened his. When had he put his arms around me? Hell, it didn’t matter. If it brought him back to earth, fine.

  “You okay?” I asked.

  He nodded and leaned forward, elbows on his knees and a hand on his forehead.

  “Troy.” I clasped his other hand between both of mine, lacing my fingers between his sweaty ones. “Look at me.”

  His expression was blank as a bead of sweat rolled down his temple.

  “Just breathe,” I said quietly. “It’s just you and me here. No one else is around. Just breathe.”

  He blinked a few times. Then his eyes shifted toward me, and thank God, he was back in the here and now. Firmly, I hoped.

  “You all right?”

  “Yeah. Yeah, I’m good.” He ran a shaking hand through his black hair. “I guess, uh…the crowd got to me more than I thought.” He shuddered, sitting back and rubbing his arms as if trying to get warm in spite of the stuffy room. He looked out at the courtyard, but as I watched him, I realized his eyes weren’t focused. Not on anything nearby, anyway.

  “Troy?”

  He blinked again, refocused his eyes, and turned to me. “Sorry. What?”

  “You were starting to zone out again.”

  “Oh. Sorry.”

  “Nothing to be sorry about. I’m just making sure you’re—”

  “I’m fine. I, uh, I need to…” He wiped some sweat off his forehead and scowled. “Wash my hands.”

  Without a word, I took him down the hall to the men’s room. He cupped his hands under the faucet, leaned down, and splashed some water on his face. After he’d dabbed his face dry with a paper towel, he rested his hands on either side of the sink and closed his eyes, breathing slowly and evenly for a moment. The shaking had mostly stopped, and he wasn’t quite so pale now. That was a start.

  “Better?” I asked.

  Without looking up, Troy nodded. “I’ll be fine.” He spoke through clenched teeth, almost croaking, as if he was trying to keep his breakfast from coming up. That seemed like a valid concern to me, given how I’d seen this kind of thing play out with some of my combat-scarred buddies back in Yokosuka, so I didn’t push him to say anything else.

  Finally, he shook himself back to life but didn’t move away from the mirror. He dabbed at his eye makeup, smoothing away the muddy smears of eyeliner. Then he pulled a thin black pencil from his bag, leaned closer to the mirror, and carefully reapplied the makeup.

  I didn’t say anything. Maybe we’d be late to class at this point, maybe we wouldn’t, but if there was one thing I’d learned after serving with guys who had PTSD and the requisite flashbacks, it was that this stage was necessary. He was bringing himself back to a state of equilibrium. Fixing his makeup so he wouldn’t catch his reflection in a mirror and remember what had happened. Doing something normal because that meant everything was normal, which meant everything was okay. I didn’t dare interfere with that.

  With his makeup meticulously fixed, he put the pencil back in his book bag and stood straighter, tugging at his shirt and fussing with his hair. Then he set his shoulders back and turned to me. “Okay. I think I’m good. We should get to class.”

  I didn’t move. “We have time.”

  He eyed me.

  I hooked my thumbs in my pockets. “Has this happened before?”

  Troy stiffened just slightly. Damn it. His Adam’s apple jumped, and his gaze darted away from mine, ostensibly to inspect his reflection for the hundredth time. As he rearranged a few strands of hair with a somewhat steady hand, he said, “Let’s just get to class, all right?”

  I expected his usual abrasiveness, but it wasn’t there. Not even a little. Nothing about this was normal, or at least not what I’d come to expect from Troy, but I didn’t want to push him either. We could discuss this later. In the car, maybe. But digging down to the roots of his issues now, when he was still raw from a panic attack, wouldn’t do anyone any good.

  Adjusting my book bag on my shoulders just for something to do, I asked, “You sure you’re okay?”

  Troy nodded but didn’t look at me. “I’m fine,” he murmured. “We should… We should really get to class. We’re going to be late.”

  “We can skip today.”

  Still focused on rearranging his hair, he managed a quiet laugh. “Are you encouraging me to cut class?” His eyes darted toward mine in the mirror. “Contributing to my delinquency?”

  I stayed serious. “I don’t think it’ll do you any good to go if you’re this shaken up.”

  “I’m fine.” He smiled, but it was obviously forced. His eyes were wide, and I swore I could feel the please, just go with it radiating off him.

  I gulped. “All right. Let’s go.”

  His pierced eyebrow arched as if he hadn’t expected me to back off.

  I cleared my throat. “Did you still want to stop and get some coffee?” God knew I didn’t need any caffeine now.

  “Yeah. Definitely.” He picked up his bag and shouldered it, and I followed him out of the men’s room. “I guess we can just cut around.” He took a step toward the breezeway that would take us around to the other side of the building we wanted, but he halted. “On second thought, let’s go back that way.”

  I hesitated. “Through the festival again?”

  “Yeah. It’ll be fine.”

  “Except—”

  “It’ll be fine,” he growled.

  Will it?

  On the other hand, there was a chance he was doing this to face down whatever had set him off. I knew people who’d done the same thing after having an episode like that. Maybe the crowd and noise had blindsided him, triggered him when he hadn’t realized they would, and now that he knew, he wanted to walk through there again to desensitize himself. I wasn’t so sure about doing it so close on the heels of the panic attack—flashback?—but maybe he needed to get back on the horse that threw him now instead of trying to psych himself up for it later.

  “After you,” I said quietly. “I’ll be right behind you.”

  He nodded. “Okay.”

  Troy walked fast and kept his head down but didn’t seem all that jumpy. In fact, the deeper we walked into the thick crowd, the less tense he was. What the fuck? I was the nervous wreck now, watching him and watching everyone around us, certain all hell was about to break loose, but with every step, he seemed further and further from the kid who’d freaked out and fallen apart not twenty minutes ago.

  We broke free of the crowd and made it into the air-conditioned building. Troy took in a deep breath through his nose and grinned. “Mmm, coffee.”

  I hadn’t even noticed the scent, though I did now that he’d pointed it out. My senses were still buzzing from being out there.

  Troy started toward the coffee shop, but I touched his arm. “Wait.”

  “Hmm?” He met my eyes, and his confident, almost carefree expression faltered slightly, his lips tightening and his forehead creasing. “What?”

  “What’s going on?”

  “We’re getting coffee.” He nodded toward the coffee shop. “So we can get to class.”

  “Right. Anything else?”

  He avoided my eyes.

  “Troy, look at me. Please.”

  He faced me, setting his jaw and pressing his lips together.

 
; “I need to know. What is going on?”

  “I told you.” He nodded in the direction we’d just come. “I don’t like crowds.”

  Bullshit. Bullshit!

  But his eyes begged me not to push the issue.

  Let it go. Please, please, just let it go.

  “Okay.” I adjusted my backpack strap on my shoulder again. “Let’s get some coffee.”

  Chapter Five

  At 0700 sharp, I was again waiting at the base of the grand staircase as Troy and Talos came down. Troy shouldered his book bag, and of course paused to say good-bye to the dog.

  He glanced up at me, apparently not at all concerned about how close his hand was to that enormous set of teeth. “You can pet him, you know.”

  I drew back a little, trying not to eye the dog. “Uh, that’s okay.”

  “So, you’re not an animal person or something?”

  “I like animals fine. Just not dogs.”

  “Why’s that?”

  “Just…not a dog person. Now, hand me a cat, and it’s a different story.”

  His eyes lit up. “I love cats.”

  I smiled. “They’re great, aren’t they? I miss having one.”

  “Why not get one?”

  “I’d love to, but I move around too much, and I’ve been on some deployments. Maybe when I retire.”

  “I’d get one, but…” He nodded down the hall, in the general direction of his father’s office. “Dad’s allergic.”

  “Damn. But he’s okay with…” I gestured at Talos.

  “Dogs don’t bother him a bit. Thank God.” Troy patted the dog’s shoulder, and I tried not to notice just how much emphasis he’d put on those last two words.

  I cleared my throat. “I guess we should get going.”

  “Yeah. Let’s roll.” He patted Talos once more, and we headed out.

  On the road, he’d fallen quiet again, tapping his black-painted nails on the console and humming along with a Lady Antebellum song on the radio. As I drove, I debated pushing his seemingly good mood. Did I dare risk shifting that to an irritated one? Or take advantage of it to see if I could get some more answers out of him?

  I waited until the song was over—because nothing was worse than someone interrupting a song—and switched it off during a commercial. I pulled in a breath and stared straight ahead. “I need to ask you about a few things.”

  “Okay…”

  “I’m aware of the notes on your car.” I eased the car to a stop at a red light. “I’ve seen them.”

  Troy fidgeted, eyes locked on something straight ahead.

  “And I was briefed on the harassment. But…has anything else happened?”

  “Like what?”

  “You tell me.”

  At that, he turned toward me, black-ringed eyes narrow. “Don’t play games. What do you want me to say?”

  “I’m not playing games, Troy. I need to know.”

  He held my gaze for a long moment, then faced forward again. “Light’s green.”

  Gritting my teeth, I accelerated and waved an apology at the car behind me. “You still haven’t answered my question.”

  “What do you want to know? Do I need to rehash everything anyone has ever said to me?”

  “Well, no. I guess I’m just trying to get a better handle on what’s going on.”

  “What is there to get a handle on? You know what’s happened in the past. You said yourself you’ve seen the notes.”

  “Yeah, and the first ten minutes we were on campus, I saw like three posters for LGBT groups and events. I—”

  “So? The university has LGBT groups, so that means none of us get harassed?”

  I bit back a groan. “No. Of course not. But it’s not exactly striking me as the kind of queer-hostile place that warrants an armed bodyguard.” Or triggers panics and flashbacks like that…

  Troy exhaled sharply and looked out the window. “I know it’s hard to believe in this day and age, but yes, some of us still get fucking harassed.”

  “Yes, I’m aware of that.”

  “Oh, I’m sure you are. Let me guess, you were briefed about it? So you’re an expert on what queer kids deal with on a daily basis?”

  I glared at him. “Be careful with your assumptions, kid. You know nothing about me.”

  Troy blinked, drawing back a little.

  I faced the road again. “I’m not asking questions because I doubt what you’ve gone through, all right? I’m asking because the more I know, the more I can do my fucking job.”

  “Is that right?”

  “Isn’t it?”

  “Sounds more to me like you and Fowler are the same.” He shifted beside me. “You think this is all a game for my dad to look important because his kid needs round-the-clock protection. Is that why my father needs armed security too?”

  I glanced at him. “Does he?”

  “No! That’s my point. He’s never had security at home or assigned to either of us until now.”

  “And it’s because of the notes?”

  He didn’t answer. I fully expected him to roll his eyes and sigh with exasperation, but he didn’t make a sound. I glanced at him. His lips were taut, and he swallowed.

  “Troy, I need to know,” I said quietly. “If the answer is no, then it’s no. But just tell me straight out—has something happened besides what I’ve been told?”

  “Why would I keep it from you if it had?”

  “You tell me.”

  His Adam’s apple bobbed. “Why the fuck do you keep insisting there’s more to this? I’m a gay student at a university in the South. What more do you want?”

  “I want whatever I can get to make sure I’m keeping you safe.” I gnawed my lip and drummed the wheel with my thumbs. “Listen, you don’t seem like the really jumpy type. But the other day in the hallway, and yesterday at the festival, you—”

  “Oh Christ. Let that go.”

  “I…” I glanced at him. “Look, I’m just covering all my bases, all right? I’m supposed to protect you.”

  He smirked. “Well, if someone drops their books in the hallway again, you have my permission to shoot them.”

  I probably should have laughed, but I couldn’t find the humor in it.

  Troy sighed. “You think my dad lied to you, didn’t you?” He scoffed and shook his head. “Let me guess. You think he’s abusing resources just like all the other guys do?”

  “No, it’s not that at all. I’m trying to protect you.”

  “Then protect me and quit asking questions.”

  “I need answers so I know what I’m protecting you from.”

  “If I knew, do you think I’d be keeping it from you?”

  I glanced at him, ready to snap back, but when I met his eyes, his expression wasn’t one of irritation. Facing the road again, I couldn’t ignore the knot tightening beneath my ribs as my own irritation faded in favor of confusion. I really did need to stop asking questions about this whole thing, because the more I asked, the less I seemed to know. Much more of this, I wouldn’t be able to sleep at night, never mind watch Troy’s back and protect him from…anything.

  Definitely time to stop asking questions before I drove myself insane.

  A few awkward, silent minutes later, I pulled into the university parking lot. Naturally, it took for-fucking-ever to find an empty space this time, which meant dragging this out even longer.

  Thanks, universe. You’re a real peach, you know that?

  Finally, though, I found one. I killed the engine and started to get out.

  “Wait.”

  I stopped and met Troy’s eyes. “What?”

  He lowered his gaze. I pulled the car door shut.

  Troy held my gaze for a moment. “Let’s say, hypothetically, you decide you don’t believe me. You think I�
��m crazy or I’m just…whatever the latest theory around the security office is.”

  “Okay…”

  His Adam’s apple bobbed, and even the black eyeliner and piercings couldn’t hide the childlike desperation in his eyes. “Will you still…”

  My stomach turned. The guys could come up with any theory they wanted about Troy and his situation, but the bone-deep terror looking back at me wasn’t fake. It couldn’t be.

  I moistened my lips. “It’s not my place to decide whether or not you need me. I’m assigned to protect you, and that’s what I’ll do until I’m told to do otherwise.”

  He exhaled slowly, tension visibly leaving his neck and shoulders. “Thank you.”

  “You’re welcome.” I watched him for a moment. “I swear I’m only trying to help, Troy. Not judge.”

  He studied me as if he wasn’t sure if he should believe me. “Look, I know you don’t like doing this. Being with me all the time. And I know it sounds like bullshit to you, but…” He closed his eyes, took a deep breath, and then looked at me again. “But I need you.”

  I swallowed. “I’m not going anywhere.”

  We locked eyes for a long moment. Then he murmured something that sounded like another “thank you,” and got out of the car.

  I spun my key ring on my finger. This just kept getting weirder and weirder. My first impression of him had obviously been miles off the mark. This wasn’t some punk kid flaunting a bad attitude. There was more truth in those occasional moments of uncertainty than there was in the piercings and perma-scowl.

  I stepped out of the car and popped the trunk. We collected our things, and walked toward class in our usual silence, but I couldn’t have carried a conversation if I’d wanted to. Not with my brain running a million miles an hour.

  It wasn’t just my training and cop’s intuition that had me second-guessing everything. Something about Troy didn’t just confuse the shit out of me, it brought out a fierce sense of protectiveness I’d never experienced before. Because now that I saw past the metal-and-makeup shield he’d put up, I saw him in a completely different light, and it scared me.

  He couldn’t hide the PTSD. Not from someone like me who’d seen it in too many people and knew the signs this well.