by Jenn Burke
“Yes, Zanderanatolius. It was a joke.”
“It was a joke,” Zed assured Flick and Ness, then he remembered that they wouldn’t have heard the comment. He frowned. “Sorry. I think I’m still loopy.”
Flick grunted, as though that wasn’t a surprising statement. “Can you ask them if keeping us locked in regular space is supposed to be a joke, too?”
“What?”
“They’ve got jamming tech or something,” Flick said, slouching in his chair. “Wouldn’t let us start up the c-core and kept the Cambridge from moving, too.”
“We needed to ascertain your health before allowing either vessel to depart,” the Guardians said, sensing his question before he could give it a mental voice.
Just in case. He really didn’t want to think about what would have happened to the Cambridge if he hadn’t woken up. “They wanted to be sure I was okay,” he said. “I’m fine.”
Hesitance again. And was that...sheepishness? “If ever you have need of us, Zanderanatolius, focus and our mark will call.”
“That would’ve been good to know a few days ago.”
“Yes. We agree. We assumed that, since you had acclimatized to this manner of communication, that you would understand...” A tendril of frustration wove through his thoughts.
“Hey, don’t be frustrated with me that I didn’t know how the cuff worked.”
Ness paled. “Zed, are you seriously talking to the Guardians like—”
A mental finger poked at Zed’s brain and he winced. “Ow.”
“Watch your tone, Zanderanatolius.”
Zed smirked. Yep. As he’d thought before, many times, they were just like his Nana. “Yes, Guardians.”
“We hear your amusement.”
“Thank you, Guardians,” Zed replied silently, putting all of his gratitude into the concept behind the words. He still didn’t know what purpose they expected him to fulfill, but in this moment, it didn’t matter. They had rescued him. They had returned him to the Chaos. To Flick.
Even if Zed didn’t know what the hell to do with the man sitting beside him.
“Farewell, Zanderanatolius.” A last brush against his mental forehead, and the presence of the Guardians disappeared.
“Done?” Ness checked her readouts. “Yeah, you’re done. That was fascinating.”
“One word for it,” Flick mumbled.
Ness leaned in to check his pupils. “How’s your vision? Anything hurt?”
“I’m tired as hell. And sore all over. And my foot hurts.” That pain was strong enough it needed to be mentioned separately.
“Not surprising. I’m going to keep you on fluids until we get to Alpha. ETA is about twelve hours.”
Zed frowned. “I can handle a j-space—”
“Ryan can’t,” Flick broke in.
Oh, right. Shit. He should have remembered that. “How’s he doing?”
“Better than you.” Ness offered a conspiratorial grin. “I think all he needs is rest and some TLC from his wife.”
Flick grimaced. “Seriously, you had to go there?”
“Don’t tell me if Zed was in any better shape that you two wouldn’t be going at it like bunnies yourselves.”
Zed turned his gaze back to the ceiling, but not before he saw Ness’s grin fade. Clearly her brain had caught up with her tongue. “Right. I...”
She was going to step away, going to leave him alone with Flick to try to sort shit out. Everything in him rebelled at the thought. Not because he didn’t want to figure out where he and Flick stood—he just didn’t have the energy. His thoughts ricocheted between his temples, chaotic and scattered, and really focusing on everything he felt, trying to put it into words that made sense...he couldn’t do it, not now. He couldn’t reflect on what it had meant when Flick had finally said “I love you.” Was it because he panicked and it just tumbled out? Did he regret saying it? Would he still walk away anyway? His head spun.
Talking about it all with Flick right now...would be bad.
He reached out to Ness as though she were a lifeline. “How’s Kinley?”
Expression softening, Ness brushed a strand of hair away from his forehead. When the gentle gestures came out, Zed knew the news wasn’t good. She glanced to the side, where Zed could just pick out Kinley’s still form on the other med bay bed. “She’s resting. Quietly.”
“Has she...” He trailed off. Stupid to ask. He knew the answer.
“Not a spark,” Ness confirmed. “Her body’s here, but the rest of her...I’m sorry.”
Before Zed could say anything in response, the door to the med bay hissed open. Elias stepped inside, followed by Marnie, and the small area suddenly felt crowded. In a mostly good way.
“There he is,” Elias said, a broad smile creasing his face.
Zed returned it, but his attention was focused on Marnie. She answered his unasked question. “He’s sleeping. He’s good, Zed, because of you.”
“I thought you were giving him TLC.”
Her eyes sparkled. “I already did.”
Elias chuckled, then moved around to the side of the bed to offer his hand, clasping the inside of Zed’s forearm in a firm grip. “I contacted Brennan. Your family’s expecting us. I gotta warn you, man, I don’t think they’re going to let you out of their sight for a bit.”
That was something he’d have to deal with when it happened. He refused to be a prisoner of his family, no matter their good intentions. He squeezed Elias’s arm in acknowledgment of the good-natured warning.
“And I’ve been in contact with the AEF.”
Zed froze, all easiness in his body erased with Marnie’s few words.
“We’re good,” she said, her voice full of reassurance. “Ryan and I are officially out, and they know I have enough evidence hidden away on things to make life difficult if they try to encourage us to reconsider.” One eyebrow twitched upward and Zed wondered if she was secretly hoping the AEF would do something that stupid. “Between that and your family’s pull, I don’t think we have to worry about them anymore.”
“And the Guardians,” Ness pointed out.
“Yeah, but the Guardians...they’re like the bogeyman. They may or may not be in that dark closet, just waiting to jump out. My intel and the Anatolius influence—those are much more tangible. Understandable.”
Zed nodded. He knew what Marnie was getting at. The Guardians were a vague sort of backup—good to have, but maybe not totally reliable. He’d have to see how things played out.
“We’ll find a specialist on Alpha for Ryan,” he promised. Someone who could remove the implants without permanent damage so he’d be able to traverse the galaxy via j-space.
“Already done. Brennan’s work.” Marnie tilted her head. “You look like you’re about to crash again.”
Given that his eyelids had drooped to less than half-mast...”Yeah.”
“Did you and Fl—uh, Fixer—”
Ness placed a hand on Marnie’s arm and gave her head a small shake. That was when Zed realized that Flick was no longer sitting in the chair beside him.
“Shit.” He made to push himself up, but Elias’s large hand on his shoulder prevented much movement.
“You both need to rest,” he said. It sounded a little like an order. “Get some sleep and you can talk when we get to Alpha.”
Exhaustion tugged the tension out of his muscles. He didn’t want to lie in bed without Flick at his side, but it didn’t appear as if he had much choice in the matter. Was it Flick’s way of saying that things were truly over and done? Should he just let him go?
After all the bullshit of the past few months? No. Hell no. If Flick thought he was going to let him go without a fight, he was in for a nasty surprise.
Chapter Twenty
Another day, another docking. Elias appreciated forward momentum. Every new dock brought a new direction for his ship and his crew. But they’d been hitching themselves to the same posts a little too often for his liking over the past week or so. Twice to the Cambridge and twice swallowed by Alpha Station. At least this time they were ensconced in the Anatolius family dock, a smaller but no less grand chamber designed to house a handful of ships that all shamed the Chaos with their sleek lines and scarcely blemished plating.
The folks gathered to greet them didn’t qualify as a mob—not like last time—but Zed’s family exuded as much presence as the AEF and media had on their previous visit. They swarmed around Zed as he stepped down from the cargo ramp, riotous in their joy. A happy lump in his throat, Elias watched the unrestrained reunion until Maddox pushed out of the huddle and strode toward him, hand outstretched. Elias caught the hand and braced for a hearty shake. None of Zed’s family did things in a small way. He was hauled into a hug instead.
“Thank you.” Maddox tightened his grip, apparently intent on squeezing the life from him. “Anything you need, okay? Anything.” He let go and sniffed. “Where’s Flick?”
Elias cleared his throat. “Ah...just putting the c-core to bed.”
One dark brow quirked upward. “Tell him...shit.” Maddox’s eyes got a little bit shinier. “All of you. Anything. Everything.”
Smiling, Elias pushed the man toward his family.
Nessa jumped from the end of the ramp. “I’m going to accompany Kinley to the Anatolius clinic, help them determine the best...” She exhaled slowly. “Help them make her comfortable. They want to check Ryan over too. Fix is still in his quarters.”
He’d been there for ten hours, the bulk of the journey to Alpha. Elias hadn’t pinged his bracelet for docking, and when Fix hadn’t arrived on the bridge to insist he guide them in, Elias had known he might not rouse to disembark the ship, either.
“I’ll take care of him,” Elias said.
Nessa squeezed his arm, then moved to catch up with the medical personnel guiding the hover float out of the docks. Marnie and Ryan were already with them. Elias turned back to his ship and saw Fixer leaning in the doorway of the inner hatch. The running lights in Cargo One were on, but their radiance didn’t quite reach that far back. He didn’t need it. Fix’s posture told him everything he needed to know.
Elias paced back through the cargo bay, halting before the man he’d adopted to fill a hole in his own life, the one left by the death of his younger brother. “He loves you, Felix. He’ll come find you when his family is finished smothering him.”
Fix made no answer.
Elias tipped his head toward the docks. “Ready to go?” When Fix didn’t move, Elias hooked a hand around his arm. “C’mon. We’ll claim the good rooms while they’re all getting organized.” Not that the family building had any bad rooms.
Fix still didn’t move.
Elias put a hand to the back of Fixer’s head and pressed a quick kiss to his forehead. “Trust me. I got this one.”
Fix leaned in and Elias gathered him into a fast embrace.
* * *
The nightmare chased Felix into the bathroom. The striplight overhead had been set low, but compared to the darkness of the room beyond, it might as well have been a sun. Felix let the radiance seep into his skin, his being. Encouraged it to banish the chill creeping down his spine. Memories of claws, screams and an awful sense of loss that continued to burn in the center of his being.
He checked his reflection in the mirror. The harsh light turned him into a ghoul. Hollow eyes and sallow cheeks. His bare chest resembled that of a cadaver. Pale and waxy, the crisscross of scars a series of faint shadows pushed out by the bumps of his ribs. Being confronted with his wretchedness prodded at more memories he’d rather forget. The deep, chemical slumber that had got him to Alpha Station. Dragging himself up to Cargo One just in time to see Zed departing with his family. Elias forbidding him to retreat back inside the Chaos, dumping him here, in this apartment.
Fuck.
Wasn’t everything supposed to be fixed now?
Felix fumbled with his bracelet, the fingers of his right hand as clumsy as those of his left usually were. A small holoscreen coalesced, bright against the ambience of the striplight. He poked at the display until a picture popped up. His most treasured possession, a still capture of him and Zed the night of their graduation from Shepard Academy. Grief pulled at his insides. He’d brought Zed back, delivered him to his family. He’d fought and lost. Surely it was time to go home. To his home. Let Zed go, properly this time.
The door hissed open and Felix jumped, banging his hip bones against the counter in front of the mirror. A strangled yelp burned his throat. Weirdly displaced guilt thundered through his veins, as if he’d been caught doing the wrong thing. He thumbed off his display.
A large figure crowded the entrance to the bathroom, then Zed’s face joined his in the mirror. Zed was here?
Felix spoke to their reflections. “What are you doing here?”
“You weren’t in bed when I woke up. I was worried.”
“Woke up?” In the same bed? The room had been so dark, the crack of light around the bathroom door not enough to penetrate the gloom. Felix turned around so that he faced Zed rather than his reflection. “You were here?”
“Right here.”
“Why are you here?” He couldn’t make sense of the fact Zed stood in the bathroom. Here, with him, instead of somewhere with his family. He pushed a hand into his pocket, pulling his pants low on his hips as he did so. Someone had taken his belt off. His fingers closed around the small vial and it rattled contentedly against his palm.
“Please don’t,” Zed said.
“Don’t what?”
“Take any more pills.”
Felix pulled out the vial and Zed made no move to stop him. He pushed his thumb to the lid, ready to pop it open. “It’s better when I go.”
“You don’t really believe that.”
“Fuck you and your Guardian-mind-reading bullshit. What do you know about it?”
He met Zed’s gaze...and saw what Zed knew. Saw the pain and the loss, the heartache and confusion. The need to help, the desire. The glint of joy at being here and now. Sympathy. Love.
Felix struggled to find the words, the ones he needed to tell Zed why he’d screwed everything up so badly. Why he thought Zed would be better off without him, why being broken hurt so much. “I...” He pressed his mangled left hand to his aching heart. “Hurts.” A tear spilled down his cheek. “It hurts.”
Zed traced the pad of his thumb across Felix’s cheekbone, catching the tear. Then he caressed the side of Felix’s face, his touch so delicate, fingers so warm. “Why don’t you ever ask for help?”
Felix tightened his grip on the vial. “This helps.”
“No, it doesn’t.” Fatigue shaded Zed’s eyes, casting a pall over his handsome face. “Running away never works. Want to know why?”
Felix shook his head, knowing Zed would deliver the punch line anyway.
“Because you can’t run away from yourself. Wherever you end up, you will still be there. I should know. I’ve tried running, remember?” Warm fingers closed around his as Zed caught his hand and the vial both.
“I thought you’d be better off without me.”
Zed’s brow pinched. “Isn’t that for me to decide?”
“I don’t fit, not anymore. I never did.”
“You’re not a pair of pants.”
Man, he was tired. But even fully functional he’d never win an argument with Zed. Felix tugged at his hand, hoping to loosen Zed’s grip, get to his pills.
“No.”
“Let me go.”
Sadness crept across Zed’s face. Gray and weary. The large fingers wrapped around Felix’
s loosened. “Is that what you really want?”
Stomach swirling as if he’d just taken a turn through zero-g, Felix made an attempt to consider his future. Could he, with a single word, decide whether Zed would be a part of it or not? His eyelids slid down, heavy and gritty. He knew what life without Zed would be. The emptiness of it rang in his ears, pulled at the center of his chest. Felix thought of the early days of the Chaos, outfitting the ship with Elias, the comradely relationship between himself and the captain. He thought of Qek with her weird wrinkled smiles. The irascible doctor, the warmth of Nessa’s care. He’d managed without Zed, even if intimacy had been reduced to a series of anonymous encounters that barely scratched the itch.
He’d managed, but he hadn’t been whole. Not truly alive.
Having Zed in his life hurt, but only because Zed made him feel. It was as if the former soldier had kick-started his heart—and who knew a man could live without the thing beating for so long? Or, without it beating in proper time.
Having Zed in his life meant accepting the fact he had a living family, who would want to remain in close contact with their son. And so they should. Could Felix ever be a part of that?
He opened his eyes. “What about your family?”
“They’ll always be here.”
Was Zed asking him to stay or implying he’d be free to leave? Did he have the right to hope for either?
“I thought I’d lost you. You died. You were gone. I can’t...” Felix swallowed something prickly. “The next time will kill me.”
“So it’s better to be alone?”
“Yes.”
Zed hissed softly and his forehead wrinkled. “You’re not alone, Flick.”
“Flick’s gone. He was killed by the stin. You’re the only one who remembers him.”
Something sparked in Zed’s gaze. “I don’t believe that.” He clutched at Felix’s fingers. Squeezed them tight. “You’re right here. Right goddamn here. Now tell me what you want.”
You.
Felix shook his head. He didn’t have the right to lay a claim.
Jaw flexing, a muscle jumping halfway along, Zed growled, the sound low and ominous. “What do you want?”