by Robin Banks
Despite Gwen’s withering look, I can’t control the smile that splits my face. As bad things go, this one doesn’t seem that bad at all.
Reggie’s concerns were misplaced. It takes Captain Kendall no time at all to install himself next door to us – literally. He just puts up a camp bed in the hallway outside Asher’s office door and declares himself set up. We’re hardly a fussy lot, but that takes us by surprise. It’s a situation that affords him hardly any comfort and no privacy. He doesn’t seem to see a problem with it, though.
“All my stuff can be stored in my room in the tower. I don’t need it while I’m on duty, and this assignment requires me to be always on duty. It’s not an issue. It may seem a hardship to civilians, but in the Patrol we’re used to this kind of thing.”
Asher raises an eyebrow. “You don’t say.”
“Oh, yes, of course. You served!” I’m sure he doesn’t mean it, but his tone of surprise is somewhat insulting. “Anyway, there isn’t anywhere else for me to go around here, and I can’t carry out my duty unless I am near Professor McGee.”
“Gwen, please,” she cuts in. “We don’t stand on ceremony, and there are too many Professor McGees around the place, anyway.”
“As you say. I guess when these titles were created nobody anticipated that a husband and wife would find themselves working in the same position.”
“I guess not,” snaps Gwen. I don’t know what’s up with her.
“Anyway, there is no call for anyone to be roaming this hallway, is there? I mean, you do not use this office to receive students, surely.”
He looks around our place. It’s a mess. I know it’s a mess. I know why it’s a mess: it was never designed to accommodate three people, their gear, a work desk, three beds, and a miniature ATR. With the three beds against one wall and the desk over in the opposite corner, there’s barely room for Asher to maneuver in and out. Our stuff is strewn all over the place, partly because the only storage space would be under the beds, partly because we’ve all been busy with other concerns, but largely because we’re an untidy bunch. I’ve never felt bad about that, but now I do. We shouldn’t have let things degenerate to this point.
“Students occasionally come to speak to me,” says Asher, “and friends visit. But yes, other than that, it’s quiet. You won’t be disturbed.”
Marcus frowns. “I thought Adjunct Gray had taken on your teaching duties.”
“Yes. He has. Students still like to speak to me, at times.”
“And Adjunct Gray does not mind?”
“I don’t know. I haven’t asked him.”
“Oh. I forget that civilians aren’t as strict about protocol.”
Asher’s jaw twitches. “Aside from the details of your accommodation, is there anything else you need to discuss with us at present?”
“I don’t think so. I cannot really make suggestions or comments until I have observed your current arrangements. For the time being, my immediate goal will be to increase the security of Professor McGee…”
“Gwen!” she barks.
“…sorry, while evaluating the measures you already have in place. I will try to be as unobtrusive as possible. Though I understand you are used to a degree of intrusion from security staff.” He takes a look at our joined beds, and I feel myself blushing furiously.
“Indeed,” snaps Gwen. “Now, if this is all we need to know and you wouldn’t mind, I’m rather tired and would like to retire.”
“I’m terribly sorry. This situation must be very fatiguing for you. I will be outside if anyone needs me. Goodnight.”
As soon as the door has shut behind him, Gwen starts gesticulating wildly and rather rudely. She looks as angry as I’ve ever seen her. I don’t know what’s up with her.
“Gwen? Are you ok?”
“No,” she whispers hoarsely. “No, I’m bloody well not. Love, how good is your godsdamn door? I don’t want that asshole to hear me.”
“Not very. Get into bed? Huddle?”
“Door doesn’t fucking lock. I don’t want him to barge in on us.”
“I doubt he will. Nobody can get to us without getting past him. What would be his excuse, check that we didn’t die of asphyxiation?”
Gwen takes a slow, deep breath. “You’re right. I’m sorry.”
We get Asher off the ATR and on the bed, and lie next to him.
Gwen groans. “Oh, this is a clusterfuck. For how long are we supposed to be putting up with this asshole?”
Asher pulls her over to him and strokes her hair. “The Patrol continues to exceed my expectations. I thought this was going to suck, but I would have never expected it to suck this much.”
I don’t know how to say this without pissing them off, but I have to say something. “Guys, I’m not entirely sure what’s got you so wound up.”
“Are you shitting me?” whispers Gwen. “Did you listen to anything the guy said?”
“Yes, I did. I just can’t see what the big deal is.”
“The big deal is that he was here for what, five minutes, maybe? And he spent every moment making digs at us.”
“I couldn’t really see that. I mean, a lot of the stuff he said was awkward and not very pleasant, but you’re treating it as if he deliberately attacked you. I thought you were quite rude, to be honest.”
“I was quite rude?” she splutters. “After everything the guy said?”
“Look, I’m not saying that I appreciate him. He’s hard work. But he didn’t say anything offensive.”
“He didn’t say anything that wasn’t offensive! He took a swipe at Asher’s service, his legs, his job, our living arrangements, the fact that we’re sleeping together, and anything else he could find to throw at us!”
“Ok, so the guy has an unfortunate turn of phrase…”
“Unfortunate? Do you seriously believe that was accidental?”
“Why wouldn’t it be? Why would he deliberately antagonize us when he’s going to be working alongside us?”
“Because he’s an asshole, maybe?”
“You don’t know that. You decided right from the start that you didn’t like him, and now you’re using everything he says to justify your feelings.”
She stops dead, and runs through a few breath cycles. When she’s calmed herself down, she turns to Asher. “Love, Quinn may have a point. Am I being unreasonable?”
I’m pleased to see that Asher is taking the question seriously. I was worried he might be too angry to consider it.
“Honestly, I’m not sure. I don’t think so. But the problem is that if you are, so am I. I detest the guy, but I’ve detested him almost on sight. Look, Quinn, I know I don’t know him, you’re right in that respect. But I know his kind. I’ve dealt with them scores of times and it’s always turned out badly.”
“So you’re prejudiced.”
“Yes, but I’m also informed. I have informed expectations about the kind of person he might be, or at the very least the kind of things he might do. Obviously not all first classers are the same, but there are certain characteristics they share. Getting along with the likes of us is not one of them.”
“Whose fault is that, though?”
A muscle along his jaw twitches. “There are probably faults on both sides. That doesn’t invalidate the fact that each and every first classer I’ve ever met has always acted superior. And yes, that rubs me the wrong way, and I might get overly defensive. But I maintain that’s a reaction, not a cause.”
“What would he have to do to stop rubbing you the wrong way?”
“Oh, hell. At this point, it’d be a struggle. He’s got me so pissed off already that I might have reached the point of no return. I don’t think I’ve ever disliked anyone as intensely this quickly. So yes, I will have to be careful to prevent my dislike from affecting my reactions. But I still reckon the guy’s an asshole.”
Gwen shrugs. “I just don’t like him. He pings me wrong. He’s pinged me wrong right from the start. I know he’s gorgeous, I know you
like him, but there’s something off about him, and I don’t think it’s just a case of unfortunate mannerisms and poor communication skills. But maybe it’s not him. Maybe he reminds me of somebody.”
“He reminds me of every first classer I ever met. Think they’re better than anyone else because their air is paid for,” Asher adds, bitterly.
I snap. “That’s not fair! He can’t help where he was born!”
“No, he can’t. He can help how he behaves, though. He can help the words that come out of his mouth. And so far, either he’s not trying, or he’s failing. Badly.”
“So what are you going to do? Because if he’s antagonizing you and you just antagonize him right back, this is really going to suck.”
Asher takes a deep breath. “Right. That’s true. Gwen, it doesn’t really matter how we feel about this. It is what it is. We can’t get rid of the guy. We simply don’t have that power. He’s going to be here until his work is done, and that’s all there is to it.”
I’ve had enough of this. “You’re still treating the guy as if he was some kind of pestilence. He’s here to keep Gwen safe.”
“He can be both.”
“And he’s not here of his own free will. He has as little control over the situation as we do.”
“That we can’t be sure of,” murmurs Gwen. “For all we know, he volunteered for this.”
Asher shakes his head. “Doubtful. There’s very little glory in babysitting, particularly babysitting civilians.” We both give him a dirty look. “I’m sorry, but it’s true. Anyway, milady, I think we’ve answered your question. Or rather we’ve established that it’s not the question we need to answer. Marcus may be the most irritating man on this planet, but we’ve got to try and get along with him because not doing so would suck.”
“Even if he’s a giant asshole?”
“Even then. We have to be the lesser assholes.”
“That won’t be hard to achieve,” mutters Gwen.
The morning proves her wrong.
One of the hardest things to manage about Asher’s injuries is getting the guy on and off his ATR. He’s lean, but he’s tall and he’s solid. The dude weighs a surprising amount, and that’s without two huge casts. I could just about lift him, but there’s no way I could maneuver his legs safely or comfortably. Gwen is strong for her size but she’s tiny. What we normally do is I grab the heavy end, Asher grabs me, Gwen grabs his legs, and after a lot of swearing and heaving we eventually get it done. It’s not smooth and it’s not ideal, but it works.
Asher bloody hates it. I don’t know how much of that is his frustration at being incapacitated, and how much is pain, or the memory of pain. Either way, until the operation is completed, he’s extremely crabby.
That’s not a problem. We’re used to that. What we’re not used to is having a nosey bastard barge in unannounced to see what’s going on when we’re halfway through. I’m so startled by the door opening behind me that I nearly drop Asher on his ass.
“Do you mind?” squeals Asher, still in midair.
Captain Kendall looks unperturbed. “Sorry. I heard a strange noise. Thought I’d check what was going on.” Instead of getting out, the guy walks in. “Do you need a hand?”
“No!”
“Are you sure?”
“Yes!”
“Should Professor McGee be lifting that kind of weight?”
“I’m perfectly fine,” huffs Gwen. She doesn’t look it.
“This is silly.” And he marches straight in, gets a hold of Asher’s legs, and between the two of us we have him on the ATR In seconds.
Asher’s so furious he’s turning puce. “What the hell do you think you’re doing grabbing me like that?”
“Preventing your wife from hurting herself. Someone ought to think about that.” And he marches right out and shuts the door.
After a few seconds of stunned silence, Gwen exhales. “Well, shit. Can you believe this guy?”
“He was only trying to help,” I mumble. I should have kept my trap shut, because she turns on me.
“Trying to help? Barging in here and grabbing Asher without so much as a by-your-leave?”
“I’m sorry, but you looked like you were struggling. He’s heavy for you.”
“And this gives him the right to take over like that?”
“No.”
“Yes.” Asher’s still puce. “I shouldn’t have let you lift me. Ever. I should have sorted something out ages ago. You could hurt yourself. And it’s not your job.”
“Not my job? I’m your wife!”
“Wife. Not nurse. Out you go. I need to sort myself out. Go get breakfast? Please.”
“Don’t you need a hand with…”
“No. I’m ok. Please, just give me a minute. Ok?”
“I’ll wait outside. Ok? You can holler when you’re ready.”
“Fine.”
We pop out and find Captain Kendall sitting perfectly straight on his camp bed. His stuff is already neatly folded away.
Gwen must still be mindful of the conversation we had yesterday, because, despite her fury, she tries to be cordial.
“Thank you for your assistance. Moving Asher is awkward for the two of us. I’d prefer it if you left us to it in the future, though.”
“Shouldn’t that decision be left to Professor McGee?”
Gwen runs through a couple of breath cycles. “Sure. I believe he prefers not to be handled by strangers.”
“I’d be surprised if he elected to have you risk an injury unnecessarily. That would suggest a rather odd set of priorities.”
“All the same. I would appreciate it if you could knock before entering our room, and follow our instructions as to when and how to handle any of us. Is that a problem?”
“No.”
If she’s waiting for an apology, she’s waiting in vain.
After a few minutes of awkward silence, Gwen tries to break the ice, again. “So, what is your name?”
He looks perplexed. “Captain Kendall. We have been introduced.”
“Yes, I know. But do you have an actual name? What do people call you?”
“Captain Kendall?”
“What does your mom call you?”
“Cupcake, mostly. Marcus when I’ve been bad. Are you planning to adopt me?”
Gwen closes her eyes and takes a deep breath. “Good point. Captain Kendall it is.” Asher calls us in just on time to stop her exploding.
When we walk in, Marcus waits in front of the open door and knocks. Gwen’s exasperation goes up a notch. The guys are way too wound up to be civil at the moment, so I try to defuse the situation.
“We normally pick up our breakfasts and eat here. Does that sound alright to you?”
“Not my place to say.”
“We have to go to the refectory either way.”
“Sure.”
“If you come with me, Gwen can stay here. We can carry two trays each.”
“Who will be in charge of her security?”
“I’ll park myself in front of the door until you’re back, how’s that?” interjects Asher.
“If you deem that to be sufficient.” And off we go.
He doesn’t say a damn word to me all the way there and back. I try to make small talk, but his responses are so indifferent that I give that up pretty quickly. When we get back to the office with the food, he refuses to come in with us. He eats in the hallway, sitting on his camp bed.
After breakfast, Asher stays at the office while we go to Gwen’s lecture. Marcus sits in the back row with me. I thought he’d be observing Gwen; instead, he spends the entire two hours watching me. I can feel it. It makes it damn hard to concentrate.
When we get to Gwen’s office, Marcus sits in my anteroom, on my spare chair, and spends the rest of the morning watching me. I’ve got some office work to do but I can’t get my brain together at all. A couple of students come to visit, and they also seem perturbed by his presence. He doesn’t say anything to them either. It’s
eerie.
When we get to the refectory for lunch, I expect Marcus to come and sit with us. I don’t know why I do; it just seems natural, I guess, given that he’s been dogging us all morning. He doesn’t, though. Instead, he goes off on his own to the table nearest the Provosts’. None of the cadets would ever sit there given any other options, so he ends up eating alone. That makes me sad.
“Do you see what we’ve done? The poor bastard is sitting on his own.”
Asher raises an eyebrow at me. “Are you kidding me? I think it’s a damn good thing that I’m not sitting next to him when there are sharps around.”
“Whatever happened to trying to get along?”
“He opened his mouth. Stuff came out. Seriously, the guy is excruciatingly annoying. How he got to his age with his front teeth intact is beyond me.”
“Well, I hope you’re happy. We must have given him some pretty bad vibes for him to go and sit on his own.”
Gwen guffaws. “You seriously think that someone so insensitive that he can’t open his mouth without an insult falling out could be so crushed by our disapproval that he can’t bear to eat near us? I don’t think so.”
“Well, why else would he be all the way over there?”
“Don’t know, don’t care. Maybe he likes eating on his own. Maybe he wants to suck up to the Provosts; fancies a retirement in academia, perhaps, not that he needs the air. Maybe there is something about us he doesn’t like. We’re a pretty rowdy bunch of misfits, after all. Maybe keeping himself detached is part of his professional duty.”
“Maybe he thinks we’re bugs, best observed from a distance,” suggests Asher.
“That doesn’t even make sense,” I snap. “Bugs are small. You wouldn’t see them from a distance.”
“Maybe that’s what he wants. To see as little of us as possible. Maybe he doesn’t want to be here,” says Aiden, and that hits home the most. Aiden hardly says anything at all; he uses words like they cost credit. That’s probably why he gets on so well with Nick, who hardly ever shuts up. When Aiden says something, though, you really listen, because it’s usually important or he wouldn’t have made the effort.