Insanity

by Xavier Neal

  “How long have I been out?”

  “Couple days,” she answers.

  “Anyone been allowed to see me?”

  I open my eyes just in time to see her shake her head. “But Glove and Lordy are goddamn adamant about it.”

  My face twitches a smirk. “And Haven? Does she have any idea?”

  Jazz wets her lips at me, “No. As far as she knows you're still on a mission.”

  “Is she....is she allowed to come see me?” I ask.

  She raises her eyebrows, “Only spouses are allowed to come see injured members if the Director allows it.”

  “Good thing we're married then.”

  “It is a good thing isn't it.” She smiles deviously. “I'll get it authorized and pick her up to be debriefed. She should be able to see you soon.”

  “Appreciate it.”

  She stands and places a hand on my leg, “Glad you're gonna pull through Grim.”

  I tease, “Worried?”

  “About you? Never.” Her heels click her out of the room and I let my eyes shut again. Why the hell am I so tired? Concentrating on my breathing I do my best to focus on anything other than the pain.

  After a few moments a voice says, “You know when they said you should get fucked on your wedding night, I don't think this is what they had in mind.” Lifting my eyes back open I see Glove grinning with his hands shoved in his pocket, a child-like smile on his face.

  Lordy chuckles right along with him and I grunt, “Why do you encourage him? You know he wants the attention.”

  “I do. And I particularly could use some attention on my--”

  “Shut it,” I cut him off. “I'm in enough pain.”

  Lordy's voice seems to change, “You uh...you okay?”

  “As good as I can be.”

  “Thanks for saving my ass,” Lordy states firmly.

  “It's my job.” I groan.

  “Seriously,” Lordy's voice almost cracks. “You saved my ass Grim. A second slower with that shot and it would be me in that bed or six feet under.” The truth of his statement causes me to give him a nod. I know he's right. I know that's true. And I know I would never forgive myself if that would've happened.

  “Damn. That means we both owe him now,” Glove jokingly says elbowing Lordy. “We'll never be able to live this down.”

  I roll my eyes and shut them, “Just do me a favor and let me get some rest.”

  “Rest?” Glove questions. “What is that? Is that like a nap? Does the baby need a nap?” When my eyes pop up he starts laughing like an asshole.

  “Be thankful I'm in too much pain to knock you out,” I say shutting them again. “Now get the hell out so I can finally get some sleep.”

  “I'm confused. What have you been doin' this entire time? Baking a cake?” Glove's joke causes me to grunt that I'm done playing with him.

  “Come on playboy, let's get you a celebration drink that our best friend is still alive,” Lordy's voice says as I feel the drugs or exhaustion grabbing me again.

  “Can we have a celebratory lap dance? OH! We didn't get to have a bachelor party, can we have one of those?”

  “Without the bachelor?”

  “It makes sense to me,” are the last words I hear before I'm out again.

  Official HORN Unit Day 20

  In the process of trying to shift to get comfortable, my eyes flicker open briefly to see Haven resting on my leg, sound asleep. Her face is on one hand while using the other to clutch mine that's still hooked up to the equipment. Instinctively I give her hand a soft squeeze. At the small movement her eyes fly open.

  “Clint!” she squeaks, her eyes slightly red. The thought that it's from tears about me makes me grip her hand tighter. Her face drops and so does her voice, “Are you...are you okay?”

  “Oh Angel,” I sigh stifling the groan of pain as I sit up. “I'm alright.”

  “But you were shot!”

  “It hurt.” I confirm her fears and her bottom lip trembles again. “But I'm alright. I'm alive and stitched up pretty good. I'm gonna be fine.” She nods, but I can tell she doesn't believe me. I motion for her to come closer. Haven stands up and moves her body so it's pressed up against my chest. My arms cradle her body tightly. Her face buries itself in my neck. Her tags are cold against my chest. I stroke her gently with my fingertips.

  She breathes me in deeply and squeezes tighter. In a whisper she says, “I was so scared.”

  “I'm sorry Angel,” my fingers trail up and down her back. “I'm alright. I swear. I'm alright.”

  She stays pressed against me, tears falling onto my shoulder. In a playful sob she cries, “You were supposed to be a damn good Marine.”

  I can't help but smile. “I am. I'm alive.”

  Pulling back she stares at me, her brown eyes glossy, “And what am I supposed to do with two Walker's injured?”

  Our fingers fold together and I sigh, “We'll both be fine. He's healing quickly and I'm...” I look down at my wrapped body. “I'm gonna be out of here in a couple days.”

  Haven nods and trails her free hand down my cheek. “When Jazz came to the house I thought you were....I thought you were...” her voice seems like it can't fathom the thought. I squeeze her hand so she knows I understand. “I didn't think that was even a real possibility until I saw the look on her face. And then she brought me here, gave me a very vague explanation before allowing me to see you. When I finally did...seeing you lay there, so still, so...lifeless. It just. It just all hit me at once. You can leave at any time and not come back home.”

  “It's always been that way,” I argue.

  “I know that. And it's silly that it's just now sinking in, but it is. I'm scared Clint. What if you don't come back to me? What if the next time Jazz knocks on my door--”

  “Stop,” I cut her off. She closes her mouth tightly and let its quiver. “I'm not gonna lie to you Angel. It's a possibility. No matter how careful I am. No matter what precautions I take, it is a possibility. A very real one. But this is what I do. I'd give my life for my country just like I'd give my life for you. I can't promise you that I'm coming home every time I leave, but I can promise you with every fucking bone in my body that I'll try my fucking best. I wanna have a long life with you. I wanna have kids with you. I wanna see them play sports. Or dance. I wanna see them go off to college. I wanna grow old with you,” the words tumble out of me, a small haunting of the conversation I had with my mother still on my mind. In a declaration I say, “I wanna live Haven. And I wanna live with you. So I'm sorry baby that it's scary to think that I might not come home, but know deep down inside I'm gonna do everything I can to come back to you.”

  She nods at me, tears trailing down her cheeks.

  I tug her to come back to me, “Come here.” When she's closer I reach my hand up and wrap it around the back of her neck dragging her lips onto mine. At first her jaw is trembling too hard to kiss back, but the second my other hand wraps around her lower back so we're molded together she relaxes. Her lips suddenly part and my tongue pushes inside of her mouth to stroke hers. We stay connected. Committed. And with this kiss I can feel the anxiety start to fade.

  For just a small moment I pull away and whisper, “Alpha” before returning to our kiss.

  No. It's not an easy fact to deal with it. But it is real. And I meant what I said. I have more reasons in my life to make sure I stay alive than I ever had to chase death. I will fight for my country. I will fight for my girl. I will fight for my life. Mom was right. I was on the path that I saw for my father, death in the line of duty, but now...Now I want more.

  Official HORN Unit Day 55

  After I put the weight down I grab my towel and wipe the sweat off my neck. It feels good to be back to normal. To workout. To be the reason my body is in pain. To push its limits. When I was released from medical care I was told a week of bed rest, which was filled with me on the couch being fussed over by Mindy and Haven. The next week I was told to take it easy, but instead I tried to wo
rk out, putting me back on bed rest for a few days. I knew better. I just hated being so goddamn useless. It was frustrating. Infuriating. Haven bought me a stress ball to squeeze to help. It was sweet even if it didn't really make a difference. On the day of my examination to make sure I was healing properly, I was allowed back to duty. While I was approved to start a light exercise routine and weapon's practice, Haven wanted to wait a few more before we started having sex again.

  “Burying your sexual frustration with heavy weights again?” Glove jokes from in front of me, bracing his arms across his black tank. Partially true. But he doesn't need to fucking know that. “You should get used to it. Now that you're married you will rarely ever get your dick touched.” I nail him in the arm forcing him to groan in pain, “Damn it Grim.”

  “Did you forget I'm almost back to normal?” I toss my hand in the air.

  “A guy can hope,” he rubs the spot frowning. “I see your fists are feeling fine. How about the rest of you?”

  I give my body a good stretch. “I could take another bullet.”

  “Let's not though,” Glove insists walking beside me as I head towards the door. “I mean, Lordy and I both already owe you our lives. Let's not increase that debt.”

  After a slight chortle I ponder, “Where is Lordy?”

  “Huh.” Glove looks around. “I swear he was just here.”

  “You. Are. Observant.” I mock.

  “I could give Batman a run for his money,” he declares proudly.

  Shaking my head at his moronic comment I glance to the left down the hallway where I see Lordy suspiciously close to Jazz. Her chest is rising and falling rapidly, her hand is pressed on his chest, and her face is tilted up towards him like she's waiting for him to kiss her. This can't be good. This shouldn't be happening. At least not here. Not now.

  Glove realizes I'm no longer listening to him and asks, “What are you staring at?”

  Before I can respond, Director Shepard says over the intercom system, “Unit 3 to Merlin.”

  “Are we three?” Glove ponders out loud. “Is it because there's three of us?”

  I give Lordy and Jazz a glance who are headed our way with similar looks of frustration on their face. Instead of acknowledging that situation I respond to Glove's dumb question. “We were the third team bred at this facility.”

  “They saved the best for last,” Jazz says strolling past us. “Come on boys. Let's see what they need.”

  Once Jazz is in front of the rest of us, I hang back and give Lordy a serious look. The first time he looks at me he doesn't catch on, but after a third and fourth glance he knows I know something. That I saw something. Which means there was something to seen. Something that shouldn't be seen.

  A few steps out of Merlin's room I drop my voice and mutter, “I hope you know what you're doing.”

  Inside Director Shepard is waiting for us, photos pulled up on the monitor. As soon as we've all gathered he begins, “Because of what you men did on the last phase of the mission, a flood gate has been opened. See these photos.” I study the three faces on the screen. One is the bald man who shot Martin, the one whose simple hand movement almost took my life. The other two I've never seen before. One is dark skinned, no hair, with a large frame. The other has hair cropped to his skull and a beard done the same way. Pale. Red headed. “This one,” he points to the black man. “Is The Face's second in command. These two are right underneath.”

  “So we're close.” I fold my arms across my chest.

  “Closer than we were. While Jazz is creating her report, it's a waiting game for us. In the meantime I'm sending you men on separate assignments.” Seeing the puzzled look on our faces he explains, “Glove, Tyger's team could use an extra hand for an op, so you'll be tasked with helping them.”

  “Yes sir,” Glove replies.

  “Lordy there's a team in Virginia that needs a linguistic specialist, so you'll be flying out in the morning.”

  His eyes flick to Jazz so quickly that if I hadn't been staring at him as hard as I was I would've missed it. He clears his throat, puts his hands behind his back and states, “Yes sir.”

  “Grim,” my name darts off his lips. I shift my attention. “Due to your recent injury I am directing you to take this time to train your skills here. I expect you in physical training and weapons training every day as you have been. You may have passed the doctor's physical but you will be reassessed before being allowed to move onto the next phase with the team. Are we clear?”

  “Yes sir,” I answer with a nod.

  Before getting shot I think I would've been pissed I'm basically grounded. Being forced to stay behind while my team is allowed to help others. Being left behind. But this is what's best for the team. I understand where he's coming from. And if I'm home rather than in the field I can enjoy the little things in life, like sex with my wife, which I haven't done yet.

  “Jackets,” Director Shepard says in a dismal before heading out of the space.

  “Well since we're splitting up, I think a beer sounds like a good plan.” Glove sighs. I open mouth to object when he points a finger at me, “No. You're doing this for me. I have to spend time with Tyger who hates me almost as much as he hates you and Lordy has to go to Virginia where girl’s legs are closed tighter than those heels Jazz likes to wear.”

  “Don't bring my shoes into this,” Jazz pipes in.

  “So you're doing this for me. We are going for wings and beer where there's more dressing on your plate then on their bodies,” Glove describes in graphic detail. “Lordy, back me up on this. You're flying out tomorrow, getting our dicks touched is a must. Not by each other.” The unnecessary end of the sentence causes my head to tilt as Lordy doesn't answer. “Now I know Lordy's in, so just say yes Grim.”

  I fight, “I wanna go home to my wife.”

  “Ugh.” Glove pouts like a child. “I remember getting the heebie jeebies when you would say 'my girl', but now it's my wife....you're making my nuts shrivel dude.” My fist curls and he quickly says, “Please don't fucking hit me.”

  “One beer,” Lordy says loudly. “No more than that with me flying out.”

  “Fine,” he shrugs. “One beer for you. Grim?”

  “One beer,” I cave.

  “Marriage makes you soft,” Glove smirks like a child who just got his birthday wish come true. “Part of me likes it.”

  With a short nod from me, I draw my fist back like I'm going to hit him causing him to prepare to dodge which is when I nail him from the other side with my other fist. He lets out a long groan and I sigh, “You're right. That punch was soft.”

  “Funny.” He grunts heading out of the door.

  I look over at Lordy and Jazz who are having some sort of unspoken conversation. Staring at them feels like eavesdropping, but this is my fucking unit as much as it is hers. Every choice they make affects all of us. I know first-hand what emotions can do to your judgment if you let them.

  Interrupting the moment I say, “You ready to find a hot little redhead to fall into your bed?”

  Jazz’s face tightens. A small spec of guilt gnaws at the back of my brain. But this needs to be done. This needs to be settled before whatever is happening gets too out of hand.

  “Nothing better than goodbye mission sex,” I continue, “or at least that's the line you and Captain Condoms always tell me.”

  “Well then there's returned home from mission sex,” he answers a small bit of his Georgia accent leaking out. Lordy heads my direction, “And that shit is just as good. Nothing like a hot little piece riding your dick like a rodeo to thank you for serving your country.”

  He chuckles at his asshole remark and I toss Jazz a stern look to let it go. And let it go now.

  I stroll through the front door not surprised my father's car is missing. He's returned to duty. Light duty, but back to working nights again. Haven's car was parked in the driveway informing me she's either here or working at Mindy's. Jogging up the stairs I hear the sound of running water
letting me know she's home. My body tells me I should stroll in there, pull that shower curtain back, and bury myself inside her, but I decide against it. The first time I take my girl again I want it to be a little more meaningful than shower sex. But maybe the second time. In our room I strip off my shirt and toss it in our dirty clothes hamper. Flopping on the edge of the bed I stare at my replaced closet door while my hand runs across my new scar.

  “But what's that from?” I smack on my slice of pizza loudly pointing to the scar on my mother's hand at the dinner table. “That one right there.”

  “Stop smacking,” she giggles reaching for her beer.

  I shut my mouth to finish my bite. As soon as it's swallowed I ask, “What's that one from?”

  “A bike accident.”

  “You crashed your bike!”

  “I didn't crash it. There was just a little accident. It was years ago Slugger. Before you were born.”

  Pulling the cheese off the slice I've been working on, I twirl it around my five year old finger and say, “It looks really cool. Do you like it? Makes you look like a superhero.”

  “A superhero?” She looks confused.

  “Maybe not a superhero, an action movie hero! Like you fight bad guys and throw punches and drive fast,” I say putting the cheesy finger in my mouth.

  “Well I do two of those things,” she winks before grabbing another slice from the box.

  “Yeah and dad does the other,” I remind her pulling the pizza crust apart. “Does he have scars too?”

  “We all have scars Slugger. Some on the outside. Some on the inside.” How does someone have scars are on the inside? Like from being worked on? Like a robot?! “Someday you'll have 'em too.”

  “Will people know it's because I'm the best at baseball?”

  She giggles, “People will know what you want them to. It's your story Slugger. Tell it how you want, but more importantly Live it how you want.”

  “I'm gonna live it as the best baseball player in the entire world,” I toss my hands in the air, my slice of pizza flying up in the air. Oops.