by Xavier Neal
With a single tear cast away from the prison of my eyes, I whisper, “I'm sorry, Sir. For everything.”
At that moment, Sir sniffles away whatever emotions were leaking from him as well and nods. “Me too.”
And nothing else is said between us. We eat in muteness, the sound of the bugs being the only thing to keep us from being in the utter absence of noise. Once we're done, we both retire to our tents for rest.
I adjust my body so I'm lying flat on my back staring up at the roof of my tent. Mom. A stripper. A whore. All because her mother didn't care enough about her. I always thought that's the way Sir was with me, but I guess I was wrong. He wanted to care and didn't know how. Big fucking difference. There's an uncomfortable shift in my stomach. All this time I thought we were on different levels and it turns out we're going through the exact same thing. Haven was right. Mom would probably be pretty pissed off at the two of us. She would expect much more. Hell, I'm starting to expect more. If not from the both of us at least myself. Sir has steady proved his interest in my life and I've barely given back. Running my hands down my face, I shut my eyes tight. Now it may be too late. Now I'm facing time in prison. A life sentence for murder in the first degree. A life time without Sir. Without Mindy. Without Glove or Lordy. Without Haven. Fuck. Life before Haven without the bars was shit. What am I gonna do? God...what am I gonna do?
The shift beside me causes a steady groan out of me. And then the shift is followed with something moving across my lowers abs, right on top of my shirt. Doing my best to force my eyes open, I see Haven's left hand crawling across the area, slipping under my shirt, a glimpse of a familiar object on it.
“Clint...” she hums my name and my solider below my waist begins to stir.
“Yeah?”
“You awake?”
Looking down at the hard on in my boxers, I smile down at her sweet face that's eagerly peering up at me. “I am now.”
Without hesitation I run my fingers up through the back of her neck into her hair where I give a gentle pull as I push my lips roughly against hers. She moans. Her kiss is hot. The speed is fast. Fierce. Needy. In one swift motion I pull her down on top of me her t-shirt slipping up, revealing her gorgeous coffee colored legs. Her body feels on fire and the thin barrier of our underwear won't be able to hold me back from the things I'm about to do to her. Again. And again. And probably one more time.
“Mommy...” a whine interrupts the two of us.
My head falls back on the pillow, peering around her as she tosses her face over her shoulder to look at our son. I swear he looks just like I did when I was a kid. “Yeah, sweetheart?”
“I had a bad dream...” he sniffles, a brown teddy bear clutched tightly in his grip, his small bronze colored hand rubbing his eye, tears clearly having been on his face.
“Oh, John.” she shifts her body off of mine, doing her best to make herself decent for our three year old. “Want me to tuck you back in?”
He nods and she goes to get up when my hand catches her arm, “Let me do that.” Tossing a look at him, I offer a smile. “How about dad tucks you back in, champ?”
Haven turns a quick head at me and whispers at me, “Really?”
“Yeah, why not?”
“I don't know...you just...don't usually volunteer for nightmare duty. Then again you're not usually home.”
I tug slightly on the dog tags around my neck. I hate that. I hate that I can't be home for my son when he needs me. “Yeah. I wanna go.”
Not giving her a chance to move another muscle, I swing my feet out of the bed hitting the cold wooden floor, the sharp change in temperature sending a heavy wake up call to my body.
“Come on, Champ.” I swoop his small frame into my arms.
Automatically, he wraps his legs around me, rests his head on my chest, and holds me as tight as he's holding his bear. A small urge to smile creeps up and I let it. Heading across the living room to the other side of the house, I continue down the hall passing framed photos of me, me with Haven, Haven pregnant, baby pictures of him, family photos of us, and even some of us with his grandfather.
Arriving back in his room, I sit on his bed with him, placing him gently back where he belongs. His small light brown eyes that are full of hope just like his mother's always are, peer up at me, desperate for me to stay.
“Need me to stay for a bit, Champ?”
“Yes pwease.”
I swing an arm around the back of his pillow, his head falls on my chest, and the bear is crammed beside him, the hard button nose cutting uncomfortably in my side. Stupid plastic nose. From now on we only buy him bears with plush noses. With a yawn his little handle fiddles with my tags the sound of the clinking most likely not helping.
“Daddy...”
“Yeah, Champ?”
“Can I see it again?”
With a chuckle I lift up the side of my tank top revealing his set of initials and birthday right across my ribs.
“So cool...”
“Glad you think so kiddo.”
“It's like I alwayz wit you.”
“You are always with me, John...” I stroke his arm and look down at him. “No matter if daddy is home or far away, you, just like mommy, are always with me. Clear?”
“Clear.” His voice repeats and yawns.
“Wanna tell me what this bad dream was about?”
“Monsters.” he shakes his head and shudders.
I pull him a little tighter, the bear's damn nose making itself a new home in my flesh. Gritting through the annoying sting, I sigh, “Well champ, you know daddy would never let monsters get you. So how about I lay here with you until you fall back asleep. Just to make sure I scare them all off?”
“Yeah,” his small voice agrees. “All of 'em. K daddy?”
“Alright.” I give his set of curls a rub.
And just like that he closes his eyes and falls back asleep. I look down at my small boy, the first of what I'm sure will be many to see him at a unique ease. Peaceful. The kind that only comes when you know you are in the safest place in the whole wide world. I'm glad I can give him that. Just like I once gave that to his mother. At this angle, he actually looks more like her than me.
Tap. Tap. Tap.
I glance up to see Haven leaning against the door frame, gripping her tags, that now have three pieces instead of two. She tosses her head towards him in an unspoken question. After getting a quick nod from me, she tosses her head back towards our room, eyebrows up, eager to get back to where we were. I hold up a finger. She nods and heads away. Resting my back against his pillow, I flex my arms around him once more.
It's my job to keep him safe. From monsters pretend and real. From the noises that go bump in the dark and the ones that scream in the light. He has my blood. Haven's. He's something that the two of us created together. As one. I'd give anything in the world to keep him safe. Just like I would her. I hope someday he knows that. Better yet, I hope someday he understands it.
27 Days til Deployment
My body's being shook with large pushes. On instinct, I pull my K-Bar from underneath my pillow, grab the collar of the intruder, and place the blade directly under its throat. Letting my eyes adjust to the sight in front of me, I'm not surprised to see Sir in front of me, unmoved by my reaction.
“Morning, Slugger.”
“Sir.”
After a click glance down he sighs, “What do you say you let me go?”
I relax releasing him and apologize, “Sorry Sir.”
With a small grin he says, “Impressive response, solider.” I shrug. “Come on.”
Confused I ask, “Where are we going, Sir?”
“Home.”
I slightly groan, but do as I'm told. Crawling out of my tent, I'm quickly blinded by the early morning sun. I didn't see it rise today. I didn't wake up next to Haven. I didn't go on my run. This bleak look at what my existence is going to become causes another growl to leave me. It's fine. I made a decision. I'd repeat it. I'd giv
e up a hundred life times to let Haven live just one.
Neither Sir nor I say a word as we undo our tents and begin packing them back away. The breeze picks up and carries a strong smell with it. Smoke. I inhale sharply. Fire. And from the strength and quality of it, I'd say it's fairly close.
“Smell that?”
Sir doesn't stop his action of putting away his things. “Yup. Smoke.”
“Fire?”
His actions briefly stumble, so brief that if you weren't paying attention like I am you wouldn't even notice. With a swallow, he simply says, “Get your stuff, Clint.”
Suspicious. While he's not one for always answering my question, when it comes to shit like this, he always does. Maybe that's why we're leaving at this very moment. Maybe there's a fire and they need extra police to help with the situation. Maybe he's worried with the extra police; I'll get flagged down and put behind bars before he has a chance to be the one to do it. I'm sure by now there's been a warrant issued for my arrest.
The two of us hike back to his truck. I tilt my head to the side confused. I thought it was facing the other way when he parked it yesterday. In fact I know it was. My mouth goes to question and is cut off before that point.
“Get in the truck, Marine.”
Bastard. One minute he's acting like we're family and the next back to orders. Back to the wall between us. Not my fault. Not this time. Annoyed I toss the shit in the back, crawl in, and buckle up waiting impatiently for him to get in as well. It's not as if the questions I was going to ask were crucial. I was simply trying to treat him the way a son would his father. Or at least what I imagine that would be like. I don't have much experience in that department.
Minutes later we're on the road, back the way we came. The lull of the tires against the road hypnotizing me in a subtle way. My head looks out the window. The brown grass obviously dying. Dead. No reason to try to regrow with fall here and winter marching for us. A sharp pain hits my chest at the realization that's what my own life looks like. Suddenly my vision is blocked by a set of fire trucks, flashing lights, and police cars. My head snaps back out the windshield as Sir starts to slow down to the road block.
Stopped he rolls his window down to greet the cop, “What's the problem, officer?”
“Fire.” A pause. “I'm going to need you to turn your vehicle around and find another route or wait until we've cleared the way.”
Sir nods, reaches in his console and pulls out his badge. With a quick flash, he says, “Mind if I ask, was it a car?”
Recognizing and respecting another brother in law, the man answers, “House.”
“Empty?”
“Too soon to tell,” he leans on the window as I slowly turn my head. “But the fire was going for a good hour before anyone called they're saying. We're working on containment before searching but...heavy chances are if there was anyone in there they didn't survive.”
“Location?”
“Not too far from here.” He looks around. “Where you two coming from?”
“Camping.” Sir glances over at me and pats my shoulder strong. “My boy here is a Marine. Wanted one last fatherly moment with him before he deploys.”
The cop nods and then tilts his head at me. “Thank you for what you do out there in that field, son.”
Nervous but not willing to show it, I nod in return. “Thank you, sir. And thank you for what you do here to protect civilians.”
Sir takes control of the conversation once more, “Thanks officer....”
“Dorian.”
He extends his hand. “Walker. Any idea how long until this route will be unblocked?”
“No. My recommendation is to take Old Wesson Road over to Shaylin Way, which cuts back onto the highway. Adds about forty extra minutes to your trip, but still shorter than what you would be facing in wait time.”
Sir gives him another nod. “Will do. Thank you for your time, Officer Dorian.”
“Safe travels.”
And with that he backs away from the car, Sir rolls his window up and follows the road back around to head the opposite direction we were headed. Without another word he takes the route Officer Dorian suggested, which puts the smoke, the fire
trucks, and the trip of possibly fixing what is broken with us behind us.
The words echo in my head. Wanted one last fatherly moment with him before he deploys. Before I deploy? Doesn't he mean before he throws me behind bars? I now know he would do anything to protect me, which is why I assumed he'd want to make the arrest. To insure it all runs smoothly. But now. Now I'm unsure.
As he pulls onto the older road that is clearly rarely driven I finally crack. “Are you going to make the arrest, Sir?”
“For what?”
I look over at him with a hard look. Still baffled, I shift in my seat. What does he mean for what? He knows exactly what I'm referring to. My hand rubs my chin, the stubbles even more apparent today than a couple days ago. I need to shave.
“You need to shave.”
The statement feels like an unneeded echo. I know I need to shave but that seems on the bottom list of priorities. Somewhere after coughing up bail money and cleaning out my bank account so that Haven can survive without me seem to take precedent. I need to make sure he is going to protect her. That he always will.
“Sir, you promised to take care of Haven.”
“And I will.”
The words start swarming around inside getting lost with panic I refuse to let myself acknowledge. Tangled with the fears of what prison means. That I'm a criminal. His promise to take care of her was made before I became the very thing he hunts. Before I became the thing he puts behind bars. A knot swells in my throat. “Even now that things have changed?”
“Have they?” His eyebrows are now raised and his eyes that are gray covered once more hollow me out. They pierce me. Yank. Pull. Tug. Remove something with each inhale and rearrange with each exhale.
My brain stumbles around with everything that happened yesterday. Waking up to Haven. Grabbing breakfast. Slicing Old Man Bank's throat. His body disappearing. The long silent drive. Fishing. The recollection of my favorite fairy tale. My mom's past. The fire. And Sir's vow to protect me for the rest of his life. A vow he not only made to the woman he loved but himself. A vow is the most sacred thing a Walker can make. And then there's a sharp punch in my gut. So rough and harsh I'm pushed against my seat. My head hits the headrest as my eyes never waiver from his face that is as bleak as I've never seen it. I get it. Finally, I fucking get it. Sir's not going to turn me in. He's going to do whatever he has to protect me. Because he loves mom. Because he loves me. Because his vow is his bond. It's not just a Marine that's only as good as his word. It's a Walker. A Walker is only as good as his word. Looks like Sir is a damn good Walker.
The look on his face expresses that he knows I finally get it. What this trip was about. What the stories were trying to communicate to me. He repeats, “Have they?”
“Yes Sir.”
Displeased he starts, “Clint--”
“I'm tired of disrespecting mom and her memory. She would expect us to repair the damage that has been done and continue on as one. We're a family, even without her. And it's time we act like it.” I watch his jaw tremble but refuse to let any emotion fall. “Yes. Things have changed, Sir.”
Swallowing something, possibly pride, maybe fear or gratitude, Sir simply clears it away and nods in agreement. Things really have changed.
A couple hours later we're pulling back into the driveway, two different men than we left. He kills the ignition and looks at me with an unfamiliar awe. His hand stretches over, slaps me the shoulder hard and gives it a squeeze. As he nods I can hear the words that aren't coming out. I can hear him and clear. I'm proud of you son. I guess Haven was right again.
“Why don't you go bring Haven home, and I'll put away the camping stuff?”
I do my best to hide my elation. It's difficult. I've missed my angel. “You sure?”
“Yeah. Need to return some things back to Felix anyway.”
“Alright.”
I climb out of the truck, the sound of my door closing behind me another reminder that the door to the old whatever I was is over. Slugger. Clint. Grim. Her angel. His son. It's time to move forward. All the way around.
Hustling across the street, I briefly notice that Old Man Bank's car is missing. Glad all evidence that piece of shit is gone. No body. No car. Nothing left to leave fear with my angel. I unlock Mindy's front door, slide myself inside, the smell of her tomato soup sharply tingling my nose.
I stroll in slowly, but make myself known, “Knock. Knock.”
Haven and Mindy stop mid conversation and whip their heads around from their sitting position at the coffee table. There's a sharp gasp that strikes even though I'm feet away from her. I feel a very familiar, very distinct pull in my chest. Good to see my heart is still in working order.
I watch frozen in place as Haven rises to her feet, her dark brown hair shaping her angelic face that's stained with tears, her tags lying on top of one of my old shirts, her legs covered in a pair of my gray sweats. Her body is covered in me. What she could find of me that is. Soon. Soon her body will be covered in me. Outside and in. Slowly she stalks towards me, the look on her face simple to decode. Am I real? Am I actually before her or is this another dream she's reaching out for. I know. I've been there. I was there.
When she's close enough, I pull her by her waist and firmly press her against me. Immediately, she breaks down, tears, dampening my shirt, arms tucked around me, sounds muffled below me. My head falls to its magical home on top of her head, my eyes shutting as I try to comfort her, ashamed I'm the reason her world has been shaken up again.
“Alpha...” I whisper in her ear.
Barely audible she cries out, “Alpha, Clint?”