Saving Silas

by SJ Himes

  Silas went to the shower and opened the stall, slipping inside. Gee gave him a welcoming smile, but he reached and adjusted the shower head, keeping his wounded shoulder dry. Warm water and steam rose around them, and Gee leaned down and gave him a kiss, slow, sweet, and thorough.

  “I thought you were going to stay in bed,” Gee said, reluctantly pulling back, grabbing the soap and gently cleaning his chest, staying away from the incisions and bullet hole. Gee was so gentle that the rest of Silas’ bruises and scrapes barely twinged as Gee washed him.

  “I was going to call school once the office opens in an hour,” Silas offered quietly, “See what I can do about withdrawing until next semester.”

  “You don’t sound hopeful about it. Don’t think you’ll be going back?” Gee asked, his large, strong hands caressing down Silas’ sides, and he leaned back against the wall, eyes drifting shut while Gee made certain to rub every inch of his torso.

  “No, not really. I don’t see any scenario that ends well for me, I’m sorry,” Silas sighed, blinking his eyes open as Gee turned him around, running the soap over his back and down to his hips. Palms flat to the wall, Silas let Gee have his way with him, competent hands tending to him, and infinitely mindful of his hurts. “I can’t spend the rest of my life hiding from my father, and if I take this public, the media will eat me alive, especially without proof. I’ll just be the troubled teen son of a famous public figure trying to make a name for myself by slandering my innocent, law-abiding father.”

  Gee made a noncommittal hum, a hollow sound that said he was listening, but not necessarily agreeing. Silas drooped, head resting on the wall, and Gael reached up and removed the showerhead, the hose stretching enough to wash his back. Gee turned him, washing his front, and Silas broke out in a spat of laughter when Gee swiftly tweaked his semi hard-on, tricking a smile from him. Silas went into his arms, the showerhead falling from Gee’s hands, and the kiss that they shared helped dispel his forlorn mood.

  “Angel?” Dark eyes, depthless eyes, eyes that seemed to see everything that made him who he was, and enjoyed what they saw. Silas could stare into Gee’s eyes forever, and never feel the need to shy away.

  “Hhmm?” Silas hummed, nuzzling along Gee’s jawline, nipping and kissing the firm skin he found there.

  “Make your call, then I’ll take you by Wally World. Get you some clothes, and some fresh air.”

  Silas pulled back, and quirked a brow at Gee.

  “You don’t have to buy me clothing.” He didn’t want Gee for what he could do for him. Silas wanted Gael. Just Gael.

  “No, but you need some, and unless you want to go by your dorm room….”

  “Um, no. Dad will have someone watching the dorm for sure.”

  “Then let me front you the money for some clothes, and then come to the garage with me.”

  “Don’t you, I dunno, have to go on 911 calls or something? Won’t I be in the way?”

  Gee guided him from the stall after shutting off the water, and Silas moaned at the decadent sensations of having Gee dry him oh so very gently with a fluffy towel. Gael did so without asking, and his sure hands examined Silas’ injuries even as he moved over his whole body, patting away the droplets that clung to his skin. Gael had a peaceful expression on his face, and Silas had a very strong feeling that Gee was rarely peaceful or content, and so he held his peace. If it made Gee happy, then he could pamper Silas as much as he pleased.

  “You won’t be in the way,” Gee finally said, startling Silas from his lethargy, lulled into a trance-like state by the tender ministrations from his lover. “If I get pulled out on a call, you can do a ride along. We’ll have enough crews on today that an observer won’t be a problem. I just don’t want you out alone until your father has been dealt with, and staying here in this house all day will mess with your head.”

  “That…that sounds really fun, actually.” Silas took a towel from Gee, and with one hand, tried to return the favor. Gee suffered his awkward attempt with a sweet, patient smile, and Silas blushed as Gee watched him.

  “All you need to do is watch, and not use your arm. Yeah?” Gee instructed him, and he leaned down and gave Silas a tiny kiss when he nodded.

  …

  The baby was crying, loud and terrified, and Silas was glad for it. It meant the baby was still alive, which was a miracle considering the state of the minivan the infant was trapped inside. The white minivan had lost a battle with a semi, the rig T-boning the smaller vehicle and pushing it partially through the exterior brick wall of a building at the intersection.

  Silas watched the scene from the front passenger seat of Gee’s ambulance, the window rolled down two-thirds. From his spot he had a clear and unobstructed view of the mayhem, and he could hear mom’s sobs as her husband attempted to comfort her while the firemen worked to free the infant from the wreckage. By some miracle the parents had been able to get out easily, but the rear of the minivan had crumpled like a soda can. Gee was in the mess somewhere, presumably trying to tend to the child even as the Jaws of Life whirled and screamed inches from the trapped baby. Silas could see part of Gee’s kneeling form, one of his dark blue-clad legs and a black boot, the rest of him hidden from view by the rear of the van.

  Snow was falling, which added an urgency to everyone’s actions. The temperature was dropping, the sun hidden behind a darkening layer of cloud cover, and the thick flakes seemed to silence the observing crowd. The baby’s cries quieted, and the machines went still.

  The world hung on the edge of waiting, the tension heavy and oppressive.

  Metal clanged to cement, and a fireman called out a harsh warning. Gee darted forward, so swift that Silas missed when he made his move. Mom screamed, dad went still, and Silas put a hand on the open window, leaning forward, holding his breath. He had no idea what just happened, but the way the firemen went diving for the side of the vehicle where Gael disappeared said it wasn’t good.

  A ragged cry went up, thin and pathetic. Silas froze, certain the worst had happened, when the men around the wreckage let out a cheer. Gael stood, backing away from the van, his arms full of squirming, angry and upset baby. The child cried, and Gael was surrounded by the rest of his crew and the baby’s parents. The cheering was picked up by the crowd, but Gael only had eyes for the child he carried to the ambulance closest to the wreckage. It wasn’t the one Silas sat in, but it belonged to the same garage that Gael and Silas had left from earlier.

  Silas let go of the window, and fell back in his seat, rubbing his shoulder. His heart was racing, and his hands were shaking from the adrenaline coursing through his body. And he was only watching. He had no idea how Gael dealt with his job—just doing it must be a terrific rush.

  “Angel?”

  Silas jumped and sat up, and smiled sheepishly at Gael where he stood at the open window. Gael chuckled, and reached a hand through, a thumb swiping a stray snowflake from Silas’ cheek.

  “You okay, Gael?” Silas asked, worried. Gael was covered in the falling snow, and he had dirt on his face and his dark uniform smelled like hot metal and rubber.

  “I’m fine. You look a little queasy. Baby is banged up and he has some cuts, but he’ll be fine,” Gael reassured him. “It looked a lot worse than it actually was.”

  “Thank god,” Silas breathed, and he flopped back on the seat, smiling at Gee through the window. “How the hell do you do this every day?”

  The ambulance carrying the baby and his parents screamed away from the scene, and the firemen began clearing away their gear. Gee raised a hand in farewell as some of the firemen called his name, and he rested his side on the door, looking back down at Silas, his face full of satisfaction, at what Silas could only assume was a job well done.

  “It’s my job, angel,” Gael said, echoing Silas’ thoughts with that small, sweet smile on his lips, and Silas fell right over the edge of infatuation and went straight into the abyss of love. Gee leaned in through the window, and Silas took the simple kiss Gael gave hi
m and made it a passionate declaration of how just much he admired and respected the humble man in front of him.

  Gael may not see himself as a hero, but that’s what he was. Gael laughed, and wrapped a hand in the collar of Silas’ new coat, tugging him up and his head out the window, deepening the kiss by a degree Silas was sure would be R-rated if he had enough brains left to care.

  Chapter Eight

  Their days fell into a rhythm. Silas would rest at Gael’s house, but would spend half the week at the garage. Silas soon learned that when Gee told him to sit out a run, that he should listen and stay behind. When Gee warned him off, Silas knew it was bad. After the first time he asked to ride along after Gee told him to stay back, Silas had nightmares for days. He never again wanted to see what the inside of the human body looked like again.

  At times when he was at work with Gee and he remained behind in the garage, Silas would wander over to the firehouse next door, and spend time with Jim. The captain wasn’t there all the time, but when he was, he made the time for Silas, and Silas found himself enjoying the brusque captain’s company. Jim was an intelligent mind, and while he had a temper, Silas never once saw him express it physically. Silas followed him around the firehouse, and Jim flowered at the attention and interest Silas showed in the workings and machinery that made up Engine 29.

  The men and women at both the EMS garage and the firehouse were welcoming and nice, if a bit eccentric. Silas never divulged his last name, and not many people asked him for it. Gael warned him not to share past the few he’d already told, and when Gee told him was because of the constant interactions that both EMS and the firehouse had with BPD, then he understood.

  Gael had spoken to the cop, Sergeant Dalton, a couple days after returning to work, and he never mentioned Silas, at least anything pertaining to him after he arrived at the hospital and Gee went home that night. Sergeant Dalton never asked either, and Silas was worried about what that meant. Dalton was the reason his father found him in the hospital to begin with, and Silas only hoped that Dalton never thought to ask the paramedics about what happened to Silas after the shooting, because then people at the garage would put things together and surely someone would spill.

  Michael and Simon, the members of Gee’s crew the night of the shooting, both knew who Silas was, but other than some nasty glares he got from Michael, neither man said a word to him, and never complained about his presence in the front on calls. Silas recognized instantly the nature of Gee’s relationship with Michael, and when he asked Gee about the other man, Gee was upfront and held nothing back. Michael dumped him in a fit of pique after Gee refused to let their relationship go beyond casual sex and companionship, and Michael ended up with Simon soon after. Gee was frustrated that Michael tried to back him into a corner in a bid for more commitment, and Michael seemed to resent Gee’s easy departure from their relationship.

  Christmas decorations went up, trees and wreaths in both buildings, and Silas spent an entertaining afternoon in the firehouse helping the firemen decorate their tree. Gee came over about halfway through, and Silas was afraid he might be upset, considering he was probably the only person in Boston not participating in holiday fever, but he merely sat and watched, laughing and talking with the firefighters. Jim had given Silas a nod and a pleased smile, as if Silas was responsible for Gee’s sudden increase in socializing.

  Days went on, and became weeks. Silas moved into Gee’s bedroom, and on weekends, they rarely came up for air, spending days in bed and each other’s arms. Gee had seniority when it came to the good days off, and now that Silas was in his life, he said he had reason now to come home after his shift and not work overtime. Silas was beyond happy, and while he felt like Damocles and the situation with his father the sword, he refused to give into nerves and fear.

  Gee was at work, and Silas sat on the floor of the living room, staring at a big, unopened box. Christmas was in a week, and Silas was well on his way to being mended. The school agreed to let him enroll in the spring semester, and he was working quietly to replace his lost ID and social security card. His father would be able to find him if he searched hard enough, but Silas wasn’t going to wait on living his life, always anticipating his father’s strike.

  There’d been no sign of his father’s men, and Silas relaxed a little bit more with each passing week. Maybe his father had washed his hands of him at last.

  Silas breathed in deep, gathering his courage, and opened the box. It was on loan from Jim, and Silas pulled out the pieces of the faux pine tree, tugging the directions free from the deep green plastic boughs. They seemed simple enough, and the sparsely furnished space had more than enough room for the medium sized tree.

  Silas got to work, one eye on the clock. Gee would be home soon, in a couple of hours, and he wanted the room done before his lover came through the door. Gee’s lack of participation in the holiday was worrying, and Silas didn’t want to make him mad, but he had reason to celebrate the season this year. He was finally in a place he felt like calling home—he was with someone he loved, who treated him with affection, respect and cared about how he felt and what he wanted. While Gee wasn’t perfect, he was what Silas wanted, and they worked. This Christmas Silas had a true reason to celebrate.

  Silas had someone he loved, and he wanted to share Christmas with Gael. Even if there were no presents or feast, just having something as simple as a tree on Christmas morning with his lover would be enough for Silas.

  …

  “Leaving already?” Michael asked him, looking up at him from the ground as Gee checked the last of the gear in the back of the rig.

  His shift was over, and he had someone to go home to. Just thinking that was foreign but felt amazing. Gee jumped down from the back, and shut the doors, the sound resounding through the garage. It was shift change, and the garage was full of EMS personnel and staff.

  “Shift is over, I’m out. Have a good night, Mike,” Gee said as he headed for the lockers, needing his go-bag and his car keys. He was tired and wanted nothing more than to lay on the couch, Silas his pillow, and listen to his lover chatter away about everything and nothing. Gee could listen to Silas talk forever, and when he’d told Silas that the other day, his lover had laughed and blushed, saying that it was Gee’s voice that he loved, too.

  The implication that Silas loved something more than his voice was there in his words, and Gee found he wanted to hear Silas say the actual words more than anything.

  “A few of us were going to the pub. Want to come?” Michael asked, dogging his heels.

  “I’m sure Simon would love to go out, you two have fun. I’m going home.” Gee walked faster, seeing an argument about to happen if he tarried.

  “To him, huh? The kid? What’s his name? Brat?” Michael asked, and Gee frowned at the bitterness he could hear in each word. He tried to ignore Michael, but the temper he rarely let out to play had him snapping back a retort.

  “His name is Silas, Michael.” Gee knew it was a mistake the second he said it.

  “Why him? Why a kid, a homeless street brat who has nothing to recommend him but a smart tongue and an attitude?” Michael shouted at him, the garage going quiet. The nearby medics went still, and stared. “You found him in an alley he was calling home, and you took him in like a fucking pet!”

  Gael stopped, and spun on his heel. Michael was panting in fury, anger shaking his whole body.

  Gee had enough. The last vestiges of his cool evaporated, and several months of frustration at Michael’s petulant behavior overrode his good sense. Gael stormed back, battling back his own temper.

  “Why Silas? Why a kid? Why that kid?” Gael demanded, growling through his teeth, each word cutting and sharp. “Because after ten years! Ten years of having other people’s blood on my hands, I feel like I have blood in my own veins. After a decade of saving other people’s lives, I finally feel alive myself! Because he makes me feel, Michael.”

  Michael’s face went blank from shock, but Gee wasn’t done
. He nailed his final point home, and hoped it stuck. “Silas chases away the nightmares, brings light to the empty hollow places I never thought would ever be filled, and he does it with an ease that leaves me astounded. Silas makes me feel alive, makes me feel like a human, a man. He helps me live.”

  Michael stumbled back, and Gee could see Simon standing nearby, watching. Michael’s new boyfriend wasn’t going to interfere, not from the upset look on his face. Perhaps Simon was fed up with Michel, too. Gee backed away, hands up, utterly done. If Michael didn’t take this as a chance to back off, Gee was going to put in for a transfer to another garage. He would miss working at 29, but he refused to deal with Michael and his fawning and jealousy.

  Gee went for the lockers, grabbing his keys and bag, and left the garage without another word, a dozen medics watching him leave, Michael still speechless where he left him.

  …

  Gee opened the kitchen door, tossing his keys on the bar and his bag to the floor.

  “Silas? You home?” Usually Silas met him at whatever door he came through, running to him with a hug and kiss, eager to see him as Gee was for him.

  The house was quiet, the lights dim, and for a horrible, evil second, he feared that Silas had left him, fed up with his emotional barricades and lackluster desire to interact with anyone but himself and Jim.

  Or, god forbid, Silas’ father had come for his son, and Silas was hurt or even worse.

  “Silas!” Gee bolted for the stairs, hoping his angel was in the shower and didn’t know he was home.

  A whisper of sound made him pause, and he ran instead for the front of the house. What he saw in the living room left him speechless, and he gripped the doorframe.

  Reds and greens glimmered and glowed. Pine and cinnamon and spice filled the air, and the gentle hum of a carol played on low from his old iPod. A tree stood tall and proud in the far corner of the room, covered in ornaments that reflected in the golden hues of the lit fireplace. The fire rustled and whispered, the sweet scent of softwoods burning filling the room, and Gee flashed back to his childhood, decades past, when he was a small boy. His own parents were dead and buried, not long after he turned eighteen, and he hadn’t celebrated Christmas since the year they died. Gee had boxed up everything and sold it all, and then closed down the house, leaving it untouched. He went into the army that year, and never looked back. The house sat empty until he got shot on his last tour, and when he came back, there was no reason to celebrate the holidays, and no one to share them with.