Allie's War Season Three (153 page)

"Yeah." Wreg gave him a cautious look, one Jon chose not to try and interpret.

"Balidor sees too much, if you ask me," Jon said instead.

Wreg only shrugged, although Jon was startled to see color rise to his dark skin.

"Whatever conspiracy there was, it didn't involve me," he grunted. "Although, I think I was pretty open and clear with the flirting part beforehand, wasn't I?"

"No," Jon said, knocking into him playfully. "You weren't." He'd forgotten about the seer's hurt shoulder though, and winced violently when he felt sympathetic pain through Wreg's light. "Jesus. Sorry..." He touched the seer's arm in apology, a flush of guilt hitting him when Wreg shrugged it off with a smile. "...I'm used to you being tank-guy. Not wounded tank-guy. Shit, man. I'm really sorry..."

Wreg only laughed, slowing before Jon's old door.

Using the key card, Jon continued to glance at the seer, wondering at how quiet he was. Had he really hurt his feelings with the thing about getting a new room? Or was Wreg's shoulder bothering him more than Jon realized? Had the painkillers worn off, or was he just exhausted from the trip?

"Maybe a little of all of that, brother," Wreg said, his voice showing his tiredness that time. "...Do you really want to lie down with me?" he said then, more hesitant. "I'm not pressuring you, am I?"

"Are you actually asking?" Jon said, cocking an eyebrow. "That's a first."

He pushed open the hotel room door, glancing back, even as Wreg met his gaze. The vulnerability Jon saw on the other’s face shook him a bit, even as he felt it open his heart.

"Hey," he said. "I was kidding, okay?" Stopping inside the door, he found himself wrapping an arm around the seer's neck. "I'm sorry about what I said before. About the other room...about the options thing. It was stupid."

Wreg shook his head, withdrawing his light in what might have been embarrassment. "There's nothing to be sorry about," he said, and that time he really sounded tired. "I
am
asking. I don't want to be alone right now." When Jon looked at Wreg’s wounded shoulder, Wreg shook his head again. "...It's not that."

Jon studied his face. Remembering what happened to Wreg at that house in Argentina, Jon sighed, cursing himself silently for being such an idiot.

"It's that Shadow thing," he said. "Menlim."

Wreg shrugged, his hand making a 'more or less' gesture in seer sign language. "Stupid, eh?" he said, smiling a little. "...I guess it spooked me. How much power that old fuck had over me, even after all these years."

"You fought him," Jon said, feeling a sharp, nearly overpowering swell of pride. "You kept your head on straight...more than me. More than Revik."

"Nenz has a lot more reasons to fear that old fossil," Wreg muttered. He met Jon's gaze. "Have you seen his back? Those scars there?"

Jon nodded, remembering that green-tiled cell in the Caucasus Mountains. Feeling his memories try to slide further down that path, he pushed them aside, nodding again.

"Yeah," he said, removing his arm. "I've seen it."

Wreg sighed, running a hand through his black hair. Feeling the weight growing on the other man's light, Jon found himself understanding something else.

"You feel guilty," Jon said, sighing for real that time. "Jesus, Wreg. What Menlim did wasn't your fault. Revik told me you weren't even around for most of that..."

Wreg waved him off, but Jon felt a pulse of nausea off the older seer.

"I knew,” the seer said simply. “Gods. Do you have any idea what kind of beatings he would have endured, to have scars like that, Jon? The fucker burned him with brands. He beat him down to the bone, then put beatings on top of that, before they'd even healed..."

Jon winced. Shaking his head, he shoved his hands into his pockets.

"No," he said. "I didn't know that." He watched Wreg frown at the carpet, trying to decide if he should approach him or not.

"Wreg," he said after another pause. "You already know why you stayed. You were completely hooked into his construct. Hell,
Revik
stayed, remember? The whole logic thing got turned upside down in that place, from what Allie told me. And weren't seers being tortured and experimented on and slaughtered during that whole period in history? I can see why Revik's thing might seem like a 'noble sacrifice' from that perspective. Revik told me he felt nothing but admiration for his uncle, and what he'd done to train him..."

Wreg gestured in affirmative, but his expression looked distant again.

Approaching cautiously, Jon slid a hand around Wreg's head, pulling on his hair. "Come on, man," he said. "You're all right. Honestly. If you're really worried about being vulnerable or whatever, maybe talk to Tarsi."

Wreg grunted. "That old woman's still pissed off at me for leaving the Adhipan," he said. "One hundred years, and she's
still
holding a grudge."

Jon smiled, but tugged Wreg's hair again. "Ask her anyway."

"Maybe I will," Wreg conceded. There was a pause, then Wreg’s dark eyes sharpened on Jon’s. "Why did you go into that crate, brother?” At Jon’s surprised look, Wreg pressed his lips together. “...On the sub. Why didn’t you wait for me? I told you that you didn’t have to do that, go into quarantine with the others. I told Jorag, too. He said you were down there when he brought the humans...already asleep."

Puzzled, Jon shook his head. "I honestly don’t remember that.”

Wreg grunted. “Of course you don’t remember it. You were asleep. But why did you go down there to sleep in the first place? I would have found you a bunk...”

“No,” Jon said, shaking his head. “You don’t get it. I mean, I don’t remember going down there at all. I assumed one of you put me in there. I don’t think it was me.”

Wreg stared at him. “You don’t think it was you?”

“No.” Jon pursed his lips, puzzled by the tense look rising to the other’s face. “Honestly, I figured it was you, that you changed your mind for some reason. You really don’t know who put me down there?”

“No,” Wreg said, his voice hard. “I have no idea, Jon.”

“And that’s weird because...?” Jon prompted. When the other didn’t reply, Jon tried again. “It had to be one of your people, right? If not Jorag, someone else. We were the only ones in that part of the base. Anyway, I kind of doubt Shadow’s people would have knocked me out just to leave me in that crate...right?”

Wreg only frowned.

For a too-long pause, the infiltrator’s black eyes remained sharp on Jon’s, as if trying to look through him. Jon could almost see the seer thinking behind that stare, although he had no idea what it was about. After a few seconds more, the ex-rebel sighed, clicking under his breath as he combed a hand through his shoulder-length black hair. Jon saw the instant Wreg decided to drop it, right before he motioned with one tattooed arm towards the bedroom door. He made his voice light on the surface, but Jon still caught the underlying edge.

“What about those books, brother?” Wreg said. “Can I get them?”

Jon just stared at him, frowning. Realizing again how tired Wreg looked, he decided to drop it. For now, at least.

“I'll get them," he said, gesturing at Wreg's hurt shoulder. "They're heavy. If you really want to carry something, let me throw some overnight stuff in a bag and you can carry that."

Wreg grunted. The last of that warier look faded from his eyes, though. "It's barely a scratch...you don't need to baby me, Jon."

Jon rolled his eyes, clicking mildly. "If I'm annoying you, just say so. Honestly. You don’t need to be so careful with me all the time...I can take it."

Wreg caught his arm before Jon could move past. The taller seer winced a little when he used the hand and arm attached to his hurt shoulder, but didn't let go.

"You're not
annoying
me, brother," Wreg said, his voice gruffer. “And I’m sorry for questioning you about the crate. I was worried. I still am.”

Before Jon could answer, Wreg pulled him against his larger body.

The Chinese-looking seer’s hands tightened before he kissed him, opening his light and his mouth, enough that Jon got lost there briefly. Wreg's fingers wrapped around the back of Jon's head and into his short hair, right before he opened his light more.

By the time they parted, Wreg had his light coiled tightly into Jon's, seemingly most of it somewhere in the area of his chest and belly and groin, intense enough that Jon found himself fighting to get his focus back, his personal space, and his breath. He'd almost forgotten how Wreg could be in that area; it still made his knees buckle when the seer kissed him like that.

Wreg let go of him reluctantly, responding to the push from Jon's light.

Fighting to get his breathing back to normal, Jon grabbed the gym bag, aiming his feet towards the chest of drawers by the king-sized bed in the other room.

He found himself going through his belongings almost randomly, selecting items without a lot of thought or planning. He tossed in a few shirts, jeans and underwear, along with two sets of clothes for mulei and some socks without thinking about whether he'd matched up the different colors and styles all that well. Realizing he still wore the organic combat boots, he threw a pair of sneakers into the bag too, before ducking into the bathroom long enough to grab the basics. Glancing around the room and frowning once he emerged, it occurred to him that he couldn't get out of there fast enough.

Guilt touched his light as he thought it, even as he glanced at the desk where Dorje's headset and a pile of his books still sat.

When he re-entered the next room, Wreg walked up to him, taking the bag off Jon's shoulder with his good hand and slinging it over his own.

"Get the books, brother," he said, nodding towards the bed. "The hotel staff can manage the rest. As soon as you decide where you want it."

Jon nodded, and started to comply, when he stopped, looking at Wreg.

"I don't need my own room," he said. "I don't know why I said I did."

A pulse of pain left Wreg's light, even as he glanced around where they stood. His eyes, too, lingered on Dorje's equipment on the desk, drifting past books to a section of clothes hanging in the closet. He nodded after another moment, his throat moving in a thin swallow before he inclined his head to one side, looking back at Jon.

"Just tell me what to do and I'll do it," Wreg said, his voice tired again. "You don't have to give me an answer today."

Jon frowned slightly, but only nodded.

After the barest pause, he walked to what had been his side of the bed and knelt on the gold carpet. Squinting under the bedskirt, he found the pile of sketch books and began tugging them out from under the bed. As he stacked them one-by-one on top of the bedspread, Wreg walked closer to the bed, letting out a low grunt.

"You really hid them down there from Dorje?" he said.

Jon shrugged, pulling out the last one and brushing off his hands as he climbed to his feet.

"Yeah," he said. "He was pretty pissed off about the whole Feigran thing." Hesitating, Jon added, "...And about you. I didn't want to feed the flames."

"He told you about me?" Wreg said, startled. "Seriously?"

Jon gave him a disbelieving look.
"Told
me? How dumb do you think I am? You two fought right in front of me. Was I supposed to
not
notice that? Or ask him about it?"

"So he told you he'd filed a complaint against me?" Wreg said. "To Nenz, accusing me of poaching? And that he made me vow...in front of witnesses...to stay away from you?"

Jon stared, holding one of the filled-to-overflowing notebooks against his chest.

"No," he said. "There was actually some kind of
legal
thing? Seriously?"

Wreg snorted. He started to fold his arms before he winced, remembering the injury. Letting his arms drop back to his sides, he rolled his eyes. "There are laws against poaching among seers, brother. For good reason. In this case, mediation ruled that it hadn't been deliberate, which pissed Dorje off, I think...but they required me not to act on it."

"Not to act on
what?"
Jon said, still staring at the tattooed seer. "Dorje took you to some legal mediation thing because you were
attracted
to me?"

Wreg sighed a bit, as if in defeat, running a hand through his hair. "I forget sometimes you are new to this thing...that you were not born seer. If you can wait until we get up to the room, I can show you with my light. It's not likely to translate right if I just tell you..."