The smile was ill-suited to the words, and Riv flinched. “Is that our only option?”
This time the smile was accompanied by a shrug. “We could make a run for it. They’ll shoot, but they might miss. Or maybe just wing one of us. Better odds to make a run for it, I’m thinking. You got an opinion?”
He could sense rather than see the frantic nod coming from the driver’s seat. “I think the consensus is make a run for it.”
“No sense in giving them the advantage,” Morai said, tapping the driver’s shoulder, and Riv was thrown back against the seat as the car shot forward. They all dropped low, and Riv tried not to feel the bump as they sped over someone. Seconds later, it was impossible not to feel the first blasts rock the vehicle, and they only made it to the end of the street before they spun out, skidding across two lanes and the deserted sidewalk.
“Go, go,” he urged the others, reaching across the seat to pull the driver out into shelter provided by the immobile car. He clutched his ReliefCorp tags as they swung loose from his shirt, pushing both men ahead of him into the abandoned storefront. Plaster and dust rained down on them all as the onslaught of fire continued.
“ReliefCorp! ReliefCorp, damn it!” he yelled over his shoulder as they stumbled over the debris.
There was a pause in the gunfire, and he looked between his translator and driver, both every bit as terrified as he was trying not to be. “Go. Go out the back, hide somewhere. Take the beacon and call for help as soon as you can. I’m still supposed to have immunity here. I’m going to try and hold them off for a few minutes.”
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“They’ll kill you,” Morai said plainly. Their driver had needed no urging to leave though, and the door let in a flash of light before banging shut again.
“I’m obviously not a local. I stand a better chance than you.” He pressed the beacon into Morai’s hand and turned around, holding up his tags in plain view as the first two men rushed the open door, weapons trained on him.
“ReliefCorp!” He shook the tags at them and saw the flare of a blaster before he had time to register that one of the men had raised his gun. Blinding pain hit him in the gut, and he fell to his knees. The rise of the floor towards his face would have been more alarming if he hadn’t passed out before he hit the ground.
Come back now.
But he didn’t want to. He was tired and sore, and nothing he did seemed to stem the eventual tide of cruelty.
Riv, you have to come back now.
He felt the ache in his center ease, drawn off and siphoned away, but he shied away from the softly intrusive voice urging him back to himself. It was easier to give in to the exhaustion.
He had a vague feeling of pain, and drifted in and out. His throat was so dry he could barely swallow, and he thought he remembered asking for water, but not if it ever arrived.
“He’s been stupid since—well, you know,” said a familiar female voice, and he recognized it as Del’s. He didn’t hear a response, but he had the impression that he groaned.
“Shhh,” someone whispered, Del or her companion, and he felt a cool hand on his face before he fell back into the drift and lost his way again.
He wasn’t sure if he stirred first, or if the voice coming from the side of his bed had been speaking before he tried to move, but it all came together for him at nearly the same moment.
“Riv?”
He tried to say yes, but it came out as more of a garbled moan.
“Hey.” A hand gripped his, thumb brushing over his palm. Riv opened his eyes, and as the bleary room drew into focus he winced away from the light.
“Glad to see me, huh?” The joking tone was so unfamiliar, the voice so unexpected, that he nearly didn’t connect them with the man standing by his bed.
“Ducks?” It was hard to keep the incredulous note out of his own voice, harder still to keep track of his spinning thoughts, and to his total chagrin he made another small noise that sounded far too much like a whimper.
“I missed you calling me that,” he said, and didn’t let go of Riv’s hand. “Almost missed a lot of things.”
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“You’re…you can talk.”
The sheepish smile was the same one he knew, the dip of the head as familiar as the blond fuzz that crowned it.
“For a few months now, actually. I thought maybe it was better if I stayed away.”
“Wasn’t.” Riv managed a small smile. “Went and got myself shot. I think.” Shot, or maybe run over.
Either seemed likely at the moment.
“Yeah. We’ll have matching scars.” Pryce smoothed the wrinkles from his blanket with an unsteady hand. “You almost died.”
It wasn’t something he’d expected to hear, but then, he hadn’t really ever expected to hear Pryce say anything. Riv’s mouth went dry, and he wasn’t sure if the dizziness was real, an effect of the blessedly dripping bag of painkillers in his IV, or just good old-fashioned recoil at the news of his near demise.
“That why you decided to talk to me?” He blinked, wanting the words back instantly. “I didn’t… I’m sorry.”
Ducks smiled at him again, this one less forced. “It’s okay. Do you need anything? You’ve been asleep for almost a week. Are you hungry? Thirsty?”
“I’d love some water,” he said, but when Pryce started to get up he found himself clinging to the hand laced through his own. “Don’t leave,” he croaked, halfway between begging and whispering.
“I won’t,” Ducks said, and as tentative lips brushed his knuckles, Riv found that he couldn’t really regret his own weakness.
It felt incredibly good to be out of the hospital-issued crepe paper and back into real clothes. His clothes even, for all that they were hanging off him now. Nothing like getting shot, and the resulting trauma, to enact a little effortless weight loss. Pulling on boots was an impossibility, however, and Riv grunted in frustration and sat back on the bed.
“Don’t be an idiot. Let me get that for you.”
Pryce’s voice still had the power to startle him, first by its very existence, and second by its sound.
Not that he had any clue what he’d expected, really, but apparently it wasn’t this low-pitched yet strong voice. And that thought made him feel guilty. Pryce had been ill, hurt. Judging what he would sound like based on that was craziness.
“I haven’t needed someone to put my shoes on for me since I was a toddler,” he grumbled half-heartedly.
“And I’m picturing you as one of those ‘I can do it my ownself’ kind of two year olds.” Pryce knelt and grabbed a foot. “Annoyingly independent.” He grinned. “And probably obnoxious as well.”
“You’ve been talking to my ma, haven’t you?” Riv squinted at him suspiciously.
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Pryce’s grin widened. “What would make you think that? I was insane, not unobservant. I’m fully capable of discerning major character flaws.”
“Oh, so I have major character flaws, do I?”
The snort held equal parts wry amusement and annoyance. “Suicidal tendencies being amongst the most prevalent. And worrisome.”
“Hey,” Riv said, and there was no amusement in his voice. “I’m not suicidal.”
Pryce continued with the second boot, agile fingers tugging at the laces. “You sure about that?
Because last I checked, ReliefCorp hadn’t exactly been recruiting for people to go to Yndila. In fact, it’s about to make the no-aid list with Maltana. You had to volunteer to go there specifically.”
“I’m not looking to die. Nobody was willing to take the assignment, and the meds had to get through to the field hospital somehow. MedAid hasn’t pulled out yet, and the doctors are still safe, it’s just traveling through the mountains that’s dangerous. I wasn’t trying to get shot.”
/> Ducks patted his foot and set it down, getting back to his own feet with a grunt. “That’s good. Nice to know I’m still the crazy one in the relationship.”
Riv opened his mouth, coming up short on words against the enigmatic smile he was being favored with.
“Are we ready to go?” asked the nurse from the doorway. She pushed a chair into the room, and Riv shook his head, waving a finger at Pryce, who raised an eyebrow and gestured towards the chair.
“Shall we?”
The Melisande was an unexpected but entirely welcome sight, and Riv tried not to let his relief at being home show too much. He was pretty certain that he failed miserably, but that was okay too. His quarters were close at hand, and as he plodded down the long, narrow hallway, he couldn’t help but notice that everyone seemed to be gathering behind him. When he missed a step, at least three different people grabbed for him, Ducks making it first, Bin second, and if he had to guess, Marc taking his other side.
“I’m fine,” he said impatiently, but his voice came out as a croak, and everyone made various noises of disbelief. He could practically hear their eyes rolling. The door to his cabin opened as he palmed the lock, and Ducks won out, leading him through the doorway to the bed, where he gingerly sat on the edge and wiped away the sweat on his forehead. When he looked up, everyone had crowded into the room, Del muscling her way through the boys to stand just behind Pryce and glare at Riv.
“Glad to have you back,” Bin said. Del crossed her arms over her ample chest, waiting for her husband to talk before she jumped in.
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“If you ever do something so stupid again, you won’t need a hospital. I’ll finish the job myself.”
Behind her, he was surprised to see Marc nodding, looking genuinely angry at him. Pryce was the only one who seemed unfazed.
“Wasn’t planning on it,” he muttered, bone-weary from the walk up the gangway and into the crew cabins.
“You’re a part of this crew, Riversong, and from now on I won’t be tolerating this kind of thing. I need you on my ship, not dead in some scrub-brush border town.”
Though he winced at the use of his full name, he only nodded, gaze falling to the floor as everyone broke the tension by wishing him a good nap and shuffling out, till it was only he and Pryce left.
“Let’s get you lying down.” Ducks reached for the boots he’d helped put on only a couple hours ago.
“Such an offer,” he said with a tired grin.
“Don’t get too excited. It’s the only one you’re getting right this minute.”
He was asleep before he could come up with a suitable retort.
Terror clogged his throat, forcing his breath down to a harsh gasp. The cold familiarity hurt, twined as it was with the sense of numbing futility. He knew what was going to happen, he’d been here so many times before, but this time, like all the rest, the knowledge wasn’t going to be enough to change the outcome.
They’d run, Marc on his heels as they burst through the door into the dirty alley, knowing even then that they were two steps behind, too slow, too late. But even knowing what he was going to see, knowing that it would play over and over in an endless loop the rest of his damned life, the sick grief still hit him like a physical blow every time. Denny, sprawled like a broken toy in the mud, the two men standing over him laughing. Still laughing when they’d turned towards him, empty black eyes and wide-open mouths.
The spray of blood across his face was always a shock, the pipe in his hands appearing seemingly out of nowhere. And it felt good, obliterating that face, silencing that laugh. Felt good and made him want to vomit, but this time something did change. It wasn’t Marc next to him anymore, not Marc’s hands pulling him away. It was Ducks, face twisted in revulsion as he turned away from Riv, walked away, never looked back.
“Riv, wake up. I’m right here, it’s okay.”
The hands holding him down kept him from thrashing his way to wakefulness, but even so, Riv found himself dangerously close to the edge of the bunk, Ducks’ anxious face looming over him.
“Fuck.” He swallowed hard over throat-tightening relief.
Ducks backed away, sitting down in Riv’s reading chair, which he’d dragged over next to the bed.
“Nightmare?”
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A strong hand kneaded his shoulder and Riv leaned into the touch, nodding shakily. “Yeah, you could say that.”
“Want to talk about it?” Ducks grinned wryly. “Despite all the times I couldn’t talk about mine, you were still listening. I can finally return that favor now.”
“Not particularly? It’s not a new one. I should probably just let it go.” He let himself breathe through the last of the adrenaline rush, feeling it finally drain out of his body.
“Dr. Terrell would disagree.”
Despite the solemn tone of voice, Riv could sense the teasing grin, and he groaned, burying his face in the pillow. “Not helping. That man is a…a brain leech.”
Ducks’ delighted laughter dispelled the last of the heavy darkness. “A brain leech? That’s good. The next time I vid him, I’ll have to share that.”
“You still vid him?” Riv asked suspiciously. “Do you talk about me?”
“Of course. Because it is, after all, all about you.” Ducks nudged him over on the bunk, sitting in the curve of Riv’s belly as he pulled the pillow away. “So you better tell me about this reoccurring nightmare now, or I’ll have to tell him you’re deflecting when I talk to him tonight.”
He thought about grabbing for the pillow, but Ducks had his hands buried in the hair at the nape of his neck, the motion incredibly soothing as his fingers pulled through the strands. “This is getting awfully long.
Doesn’t Bin have some kind of dress code on this ship of his?”
“Have you seen what Del wears? Good luck with enforcing anything.” Riv drifted for a minute or two, letting himself concentrate solely on the physical. When he started talking, he caught himself by surprise. “I’m really not suicidal. If nothing else, it goes against my belief system.”
Ducks made a noncommittal noise, but his hands kept moving.
“It’s…it’s more about making amends, not checking out early. The ’verse constantly seeks a state of balance, and when something upsets that balance, there needs to be an atonement, for lack of a better word.” He twisted until he could see Ducks’ face. “Does that make sense?”
“So far.”
“I threw things out of balance. I needed to fix that.”
Ducks snorted, the sound quite clearly conveying disbelief. “I think you might be giving yourself a little too much credit. I’ll be discussing your delusions of grandeur with the good doctor.” The small grin took some of the sting out of the words.
“Idiot.” Riv laughed, swinging weakly at him. “Within myself, not the universe as a whole. And I’ll thank you to be keeping this discussion between us. No Del, no Bin, and by all the gods, no Dr. Terrell.”
“I’ll see what I can do. Keep talking.”
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It was easier to look anywhere but at Ducks. “The nightmare? It kind of happened. Or at least some of it. A version of it?” He was stumbling around the explanation, and Riv took a deep breath. “You’ve heard me talk about Del’s brother Den. We, uh, we were together for awhile.”
“I kind of gathered that from Del. What happened?”
“It was after he and I went our separate ways.” That didn’t still hurt to say, no, not at all. “But we were docked for supplies on some stupid backwater planet at the same time he was there. Bin gave us the night off, we all went drinking in some shit-hole bar. Somebody made a pass at Denny, he turned the guy down. The guy had a friend, and they jumped him when he was by himself.” Riv str
uggled to sit up, desperate now to watch Ducks’ eyes, see his reaction. “I thought he was dead. I thought…” He forced himself to draw a shaky breath against the pain of both moving and memory. “I thought they’d killed him.”
Ducks hissed, hand stilling for a second before he resumed the careful carding motion.
“I don’t remember a lot after that. I was so fucking scared. I grabbed something, a pipe, a piece of metal. And I killed the guy. The other one pulled a gun, and Marc took him out.” Riv closed his eyes, willing his heart to slow down just a bit. “Do you understand? I can’t do harm. My. Entire. Fucking. Belief.
System.” There was the desperate hope that with enough emphasis, Ducks would understand. That he wouldn’t condemn him like he’d condemned himself.
“I’m not going to insult you by offering the same excuses I’m sure you’ve already heard.”
Riv laughed weakly, the sound catching in his throat. “Thank you, I appreciate that.”
Shifting them both into a more comfortable position against the head of the bunk, Ducks sighed. “I’m guessing that’s the nightmare?”
It wasn’t really a question, but Riv found himself nodding anyway. “That would be it.”
“If I ask you something now, will you swear to give me an honest answer?” Ducks’ gaze was intent, and he refused to let Riv look away, hand on his chin. “I need the truth.” Ducks waited for the slow nod before he continued, his voice steady. “Have you balanced the scales?”
It wasn’t what he’d expected to hear, but at the same time, it was somehow the only question he could answer with any certainty. “Yeah.” Riv said it again, amazed and slightly terrified at the joy that single word held. “Yeah. They’re balanced now.”
“Good. Good then. I won’t have to mention this to anyone in a professional capacity.” He used the hand on Riv’s chin to pull him in for a kiss, smiling against his lips. “Now go back to sleep.”
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