by Jenn Burke
“Ironic, that,” Elias muttered.
“Hmm?”
Elias gestured at the holo. “That the bastards who came to mess with Zed ended up having to protect him from the mob until you arrived.”
Grunting, Brennan turned back to the screen, eyes flicking to and fro as he traced Fixer’s path from ship to warehouse. “There.” He pointed and the holo froze.
“That’s Nessa right behind him,” Elias pointed out.
“No, back up...just before Dr. O’Brien moves up.”
The projection flashed again before resetting to Brennan’s instruction.
Rather than watch their afternoon play out one more time, Elias glanced over at Fixer—who looked so far from capable of fixing anything right now, he should consider changing his nickname. Of course, it had been a long day. Probably the longest in Elias’s memory. They’d run the gamut of AEF and press at the docks, negotiated a parole for Zed as tenuous as the treaty between humanity and the stin, and hobnobbed with the notable in the Anatolius apartments. Then the smaller party in the den. Elias had nearly fallen asleep listening to Zed catch up with his brothers. Only Fixer’s fractious presence behind the couch had kept him awake. Now they were dealing with crisis number...Elias had lost count.
At least he’d been allowed to reclaim his couch, the portion of it not occupied by Brennan. Fixer had tucked himself back into the corner behind it.
He tipped his head back. “You doing okay?”
Fix treated him to a quick glare. “Same as last time you asked.”
So...still fine, even though he obviously wasn’t. Finding a bug in his belt had rattled him, but Fixer had been tense since they’d docked. For a day or so beforehand, too. Hell, Fix had been tense for the past couple of months. Having an ex wander back into your life could do that, particularly when that ex had been, still was, the one. Add in having to watch Zed’s health deteriorate until health had been an extremely relative term, and it was a wonder Fix hadn’t cracked—except he had, on Ashushk Prime, after watching Zed fail to respond to treatment, major organs packing up and closing shop right before his eyes. Fixer had cracked and fallen into his own hole. He’d managed to pick himself back up and kept walking, but his steps were faltering. Other than simply be there for his friend, though, Elias didn’t know what else to do. Some folks didn’t know how to ask for help...and knew less how to accept it.
The couch dipped and recovered as Brennan abruptly stood, finger still outstretched. “Stop. Can we magnify this image any more?” Already the pixels were blurry, Fixer only distinct because of his cap of blond curls.
Muttering, Zed fiddled with a console, and the image zoomed in further. Fixer became a piece of abstract art, as did the shadow pressed up close behind him.
“Send it to the lab and have it enhanced.”
“Here.” Lise Bellerose thrust an open wallet toward Zed. “Transmit the screen cap to this address.”
“Have we accounted for everyone at the party?” Alexander Anatolius asked.
He’d arrived on the heels of his head of security. In the intervening hour, everyone in the den had been scanned and cleared. Reports drifted in periodically, clearing almost everyone else who’d either been aboard the Chaos, in the warehouse at the docks, or at the party. Rooms had been sniffed, security holos examined and every fart scrutinized for decibel range. Elias expected to be asked about the contents of his stomach next.
“All but two guests have been contacted and cleared,” Lise answered. “I have a team out to the last address and expect to hear back at any moment.”
“Okay, with containment nearly complete, we need to talk about what the bug might have recorded.”
“I have a partial list of everyone who has been within ten meters of Mr. Ingesson since he left the Chaos.”
If possible, Fix pushed farther into his corner. He looked as if he wished it would swallow him. Poor bastard. Elias got up, rounded the back of the couch and halted as Fix held up his crooked left hand. “Don’t want to get too close.”
“You’re not contagious.” Ignoring the hand, Elias sidled up to him and stood as close as he dared.
Fix lifted his chin toward the knot of dark heads leaning over the desk where Alexander held court. “Tell that to them.”
“The bug could have been on any of us.”
“But it wasn’t.”
Eyeing the empty beer bottle clutched in Fixer’s other hand, Elias decided to change the subject. “Get you something?”
Fix studied the bottle with weird intensity for a moment before handing it across. “Just water.”
Zed joined the small party behind the couch. “I’ve got Lise’s list here.” He offered an open wallet with a display hovering above it. “Can you remember what you talked about with each of these people?”
Elias excused himself to get Fix’s drink. When he got back, Fix had the wallet in his right hand. Elias was mildly surprised he hadn’t broken it or tossed it. Then again, despite his temper and warped sense of humor, Fix wasn’t a bad guy.
“At the party, no,” he was saying.
“Not even with Ness, or Qek?” Zed asked.
“Because I talk about you all the time?”
Zed rocked back on his heels a little.
“We talked about the decorations, and the view.” Elias gestured toward the windows and winced as he remembered they’d been converted to holoscreens. No more blue marble in the sky. “We talked about Earth. Qek had a whole list of idioms for us to translate.”
One corner of Fixer’s mouth twitched. The opposite corner of Zed’s might have reciprocated. Elias pressed the flexible water bottle into Fixer’s hand.
“What about after?” Alexander asked, his voice filling the small room. “Lise said two of you had wet heads when she arrived?”
Brennan and Zed glanced at Maddox, who blushed and dipped his chin.
“Horsing around. We were joking about Zed’s...um, abilities.”
“And you called them by name?”
Damn it, they had.
“Yep,” Zed said with a sigh.
Fix seemed to get smaller, thinner.
Brennan pushed away from the desk and started to pace. “Zed’s already told the AEF that he told us. This isn’t—”
“This is proof that he’s broken the terms of his release.” Alexander leveled a stern glare at Zed. “Before, they had speculation and circumstantial evidence. Now...”
“If this was a bug planted by them. It could be the media.” Elias shrugged as everyone turned to him. “What? I’m just saying.” And everyone was reacting poorly. Should have kept his mouth shut. “That shadow up behind Fix in the holo wasn’t wearing a uniform.”
“Either way,” Alexander said, “we need a strategy. Short—and long-term.”
“Right.” Brennan stopped his pacing and pulled out a wallet. There were now roughly twelve holo displays flickering around the room. “Short-term, I’m thinking a press conference. Start the swing of public opinion to our side.”
“I don’t really—”
“It’s a start,” Alexander agreed, talking over Zed’s protest. “We’ll keep the details of this Project Dreamweaver out of it, too. Demonstrate to the AEF that we’re not interested in blowing up humanity’s secrets.”
Unhealthy color suffused Zed’s cheeks. “Wait. Just wait a second.”
“That would be a show of good faith, while also keeping Zed in the public eye.” Brennan nodded thoughtfully. “I can have one set up for tomorrow.”
“So, that’s it? I don’t get a say in whether I want to do a press conference?”
Alexander lowered a serious gaze upon his youngest son. “Do you eventually want to step foot outside of these buildings again?”
“Of course, I—”
“The
n you’ll do a press conference.” Alexander turned back to Brennan. “That’s short-term. Set it up. Long-term?”
“Long-term...” Brennan glanced at Zed, his expression almost...apologetic? “Long-term, he needs to have an appearance of stability.”
“Agreed. Stability will go a long way toward scaring off anyone who wants to find dirt. We can put him in a position here on Alpha—”
“Whoa. Stop.” Zed stepped forward, his hands up in the classic timeout gesture. “I have a job.”
And a project of his own. Dreamweaver wasn’t concluded. There were still soldiers out there who needed their help, futile as it might prove to be.
“Yes.” Alexander shot a glance over Zed’s shoulder at Elias. “But you have to admit, it’s not as respectable as working for Anatolius Industries.”
Excuse me?
“It’s honest work!”
“I’m not saying it’s not, son. But how it looks—”
“I don’t care how it looks.”
“And that’s what’s going to sink this case.”
Elias chanced a quick glance at Fix, just in case he had to pin him to the wall. If Fix was taking offense at Alexander’s insinuation, he might be plotting random accidents.
Or not.
Fixer looked as if Zed had borrowed what little color he had left. He was pale and lank, kinda like the wall behind him. His expression—
Zed threw his hands in the air. “So, you want me to agree to work for the family for appearances?”
“I’m not talking about agreeing with it. I’m talking about what’s best.” In comparison to his son, Alexander appeared calm and collected. He made everyone else’s display of emotion seem extreme. “And not just in the context of this case the AEF is leveling against you. For us, too. Come home, Zed. I’m not saying it has to be forever, just...come home. Stay home, let us all get to know you again.”
Zed’s hands fluttered downward. He stopped pacing competitively with Brennan and stared at his father, then the floor. Elias gazed at the warm, coffee-colored wood, almost expecting to see another holo. Reflections of the windows flitted across the buffed surface in ghostly patterns.
“You know what’s best,” Alexander prompted.
“Yeah,” Zed said, obviously not watching Fixer as he strode toward the door. “Okay, press conference tomorrow. I’ll see you guys then.”
Elias didn’t want to look at Fix again, but with Zed squaring off with the security personnel camped by the door, alone...Shit. He glanced over and wished he hadn’t. Fixer had gone into lockdown. Or had tried to. Features stiff, he purposely didn’t meet a single gaze as he pushed away from the wall, set his bottle on the edge of a table with extreme care and followed Zed toward the door. Elias had worked every day of the past five years with this man, however. He caught the tremble at the ends of his fingers and the agitation in his step. In the instant before Fix had wrestled his expression into blankness, he’d seen the lost look in his eyes.
* * *
Come home, Zed. Just...come home. Stay home.
Alexander Anatolius had managed to say the word home three times in the space of a breath last night, each mention a punch to the gut. Felix didn’t have a home—the stin had destroyed it. Pontus Station was being rebuilt, or so he’d heard. But the shipyards were gone. Turned into a debris field, a scrapyard, every piece of junk a possible tomb.
Felix studied the man sitting cross-legged on the balcony of their guest apartment. Below, the width and breadth of Alpha Dome spread before them, a city in the sky. Crescents glinting in a lopsided circle against the backdrop of reflected blue indicated the presence of other domes. Felix almost felt as if he were sitting on top of a world, and it surprised him that Zed had chosen to meditate so far above the ground.
The early light made Zed’s skin glow but didn’t quite hide the small hollows beneath his closed eyes. Neither of them had slept well. Felix, because the bed had been strange. Too wide, too soft. He hadn’t been able to hear the hum of the Chaos’s star drive, smell the tang of waste gas. He’d lain there debating the merits of popping a sleeping pill on top of the several beers he’d consumed. Zed had been restless too, probably because Felix had been twitchy. Or maybe he’d had stuff on his mind. Yeah, that’d have been it. Stuff. Being home, wanting to be home, needing...to be home?
Maybe they should have talked.
They definitely should have had sex.
Felix studied Zed’s handsome face again. Man, he was still when he meditated. No one should be that still, ever, but especially not Zed. It also bothered Felix to be shut out so completely. He felt he didn’t exist when Zed closed his eyes and drifted away, or into himself or wherever he went.
The shit of it was, Felix wanted to be happy for Zed—for his health, and the fact that he had a home to return to, a family that loved him, wanted him. Somewhere deep inside, under the ball of rage that served as his core, the endless anger that sustained him, kept him going through the motions of life, Felix was happy. Or he’d thought he was.
Zed’s death had nearly been the end of him. Watching him die had been worse than finding the names of his family on the roster of the dead from Pontus Station. He’d expected to find those names. Gabriel Ingesson. Jai Ingesson. Lyl Ingesson. His father, mother and sister. Stupidly, he hadn’t expected Zed to die. He’d...damn it, he’d hoped. Even though the galaxy had kicked him in the ass more times than he could count, he’d hoped.
Zed’s posture shifted subtly, signaling his return from wherever.
“Where do you go when you do that?” Flick asked.
Zed opened his eyes. He lifted a finger to tap his temple. “In here.”
“You always were a thinky bastard.” Felix slouched further into his lounge chair and pulled at his softly wrinkled SFT. Zed’s shirt appeared just pressed. He never wore anything so old the smart fiber failed at the most basic tasks.
“I’ve kind of figured out that I need to give myself time for it, though.” Zed pushed to his feet and reached his hands overhead to stretch. Felix sent an admiring glance over his long torso, grateful now for the smooth lines of his shirt and shorts. He could see every muscle. Zed caught him watching and smiled. “Thanks for not interrupting.”
“I’ve thought about it, you know. You sit there, so still, and it kind of reminds me of...” He looked out over the balcony’s railing, his throat working.
Zed knelt beside the lounge and laid a hand on his knee. “That’s not going to happen again. I’m just thinking when I meditate. I turn off the outside world and concentrate on the inside one, but I’m still here. All you need to do is touch me, or say my name, and I’ll be there, I’ll come back. I’m in control of it.”
“I know. I mean, I get it, I know what meditation is, I just...I’ve got lots of new shitty memories that I haven’t shoved into a box yet.”
Zed’s fingers swept across his knee. “You can talk to me, you know.”
“I’m good.”
A crooked grin pulled up one corner of Zed’s mouth. “Better than good.”
“Damn straight.” Better than admitting he could feel an ever-lengthening crack splitting him down the middle.
Forcing a smile, Felix leaned forward to press a kiss to Zed’s lips, one that deepened quickly. He hadn’t meant it to, but their connection pulled him in, inflaming a desire that never abated. One of Zed’s big hands cupped the back of his head, weaving into his still-too-short curls as their tongues met and danced, the intimate caress sending electricity through every nerve ending. Zed smelled of soap and sleep, warm skin and male musk. Felix wanted to fall into his embrace and never leave.
“God, I love you,” Zed whispered as he pulled back for a breath.
The words pulsed in Felix’s chest. He couldn’t find the courage to do more than hum in return, though. He never could and the
shame of that burned his cheeks. Sometimes he wondered if the rage he carried inside was simply fear.
Their noses brushed, side-by-side, and Felix slid his cheek over Zed’s to feel the scratch of morning stubble, seeking sensation to cover his thoughts.
Zed pulled away with obvious reluctance. “I should get ready. I’ve got a meeting with Bren.”
Last night landed between them. Stomach flipping, Felix leaned back. “Okay.”
“Want to come with?”
“No.”
“I could use your support.”
“You’d be the only one.”
“Flick...”
Pushing to his feet, Felix stepped past Zed. He heard Zed shifting behind him, no doubt rising as well. A heavy hand caught his shoulder. “We should have talked last night. I’m sorry.”
Felix shrugged the hand off, or attempted to. Apparently expecting the gesture, Zed’s fingers tightened, his grip just short of painful.
“‘S okay. Nothing to say, really.”
“Bullshit. You were quiet before we found the NAIL.”
“Tired. It was a long day.” Felix tried to pull away and only succeeded in turning himself around to face Zed. Or maybe Zed had twitched a little finger or something. “Wouldn’t want to say something that might be used against your case.”
“We’ve swept the building. And you. It’s...not that. Something else is bothering you. Talk to me.”
“You need to go plan stuff. With your family.” Felix’s heart jerked. The fact of Zed, standing next to him, alive and warm, messed with his sense of everything. He should be happy. Damn it, why wasn’t he happy?
Zed’s fingers trailed down his arm to caress the back of his hand. “Felix...”
“Do you want to stay here?”
“Here, on Alpha?”
“It’s home, isn’t it?”
“Yeah.” The knot at the front of Zed’s throat bobbed the way it did when he fought emotion. Felix restrained the urge to reach for it, to trace a fingertip along the line of Zed’s neck, seeking the one patch of stubble he’d miss with the depil cream as if he could mark it for later. “I’m not going to stay forever, though.”