Legacy (Alliance Book 3) (28 page)

Nobody said or did anything. Fuller turned to him, eyes down. “I’d like to see him,” he whispered for him alone, and he could tell from the way his face was that he decided he couldn’t stay with them after all, even if all of them were okay with it.

He took him by the arm and walked him towards the stream, not saying anything. He stopped him just as they saw the water and took the band off, Fuller looking at him, surprised. He pulled out his gun, one of the old ones, and handed it to him, the man not taking it, watching him. “Take it. I won’t be able to do it. None of us will, I think, if it comes to that, so you’ll have to do it, if you need to. I can’t force you to stay, Max. It would be wrong for me to even try. I shouldn’t have before... and I’m sorry for that. I don’t know if I could survive it either, is what I’m saying. I love your son. We all do. I give you my word that I’ll keep him safe, if you don’t come back.”

Max took the gun and tucked it behind his back. He stuck his hand out, and Max grabbed it with both of his, pressing it hard, eyes full of tears again, but he didn’t seem embarrassed by it. “Thank you. For everything,” he said very quietly, and quickly walked away from him, following the stream to wherever his Brody was hiding from everybody.

And he hoped that he would come back, that the kid wouldn’t lash out at him, wouldn’t hurt him any more than he was hurting already. He felt a strange kinship for this man, something he hasn’t felt for anyone in too long now, and selfishly, he wanted to hold on to it.

Everyone was in the flier when he got back. He sat by the dying fire and waited for a long time, and finally went into the flier. He leaned back in his seat and closed his eyes, trying to force himself to sleep, but sleep wouldn’t come. He took a large swig of spiked tea, hoping it would help, but it made him feel even more on edge. He couldn’t take being here, surrounded by all these peacefully sleeping people. He opened the door to the clearing and was surprised to see Brody and Max sitting on the log, Max’s arm around the kid. Brody seemed asleep. He watched them for a long time and after a while, Max picked the kid up and carried him into the cave. He was about to go back into the flier when Max came out of the cave alone and started walking away, towards the water.

He knew it was all kinds of wrong to follow him, but he couldn’t help it. He trailed after him, keeping well enough back, and finally the man stopped and faced the water. He watched him take the few steps to the stream, kneel down and take a few sips of water from it and then wash his face. He moved closer, close enough to where he could see the scars on his back. The scars he gave him. He winced, thinking about it now, cursing himself for not being able to read this man before. Max  suddenly stood up and took the gun out, and he ran to him then, screaming at him to please not do it.

The man spun around, glaring at him, gun dangling at his side. “I am sorry, Max, I truly am... I couldn’t sleep. I saw you with him, with Brody. You can’t... you can’t leave him with this,” he yelled out in a rush. He was standing only a step away from him now, reaching for the gun, looking at his face.

Fuller threw the gun on the sand and turned away, breathing hard, angry, “Are you going to put the band on me again? Or are you just going to follow me from now on?”

He walked around him so he could see his face, Max glaring at him. It didn’t matter that he was angry, not if he could spare Brody the pain of losing him again. “I think you can survive this, and even if you can’t, you have to find a way to do it. You can’t leave Brody like this, you just can’t, and I know you know that.”

The man turned on him, pushing him hard, shoving him in the chest. “What do you know about it, Lancer? I am the bloody reason for every awful thing that’s ever happened to him! Do you get that? I couldn’t save a single person he’s ever loved, not a one.... How exactly is he supposed to get past that? You need to let me do what I need to do. You need to keep your word,” he said, helplessness clear in his voice, and dropped his hands.

Lancer picked up the gun and stuck it into his belt, and then took the band out, feeling every kind of guilty for it. “I’m sorry, Max, but I can’t. Please, don’t fight me on this. I’d rather not hurt you, but I will if I have to,” he said as softly as he could, and stepped towards him. Max shook his head at him sadly and lifted his hands, letting him close the band around his wrists.

“I’ll find a way,” he whispered, and started walking back to the flier, not saying another word.

He made him sit next to him when they got there and pulled the blanket over him, the man not once looking at him, not moving anything. He let him be, hoping that being around Brody after all these years would help fix the hurt in him, enough to keep him alive until he was all right again.

He got up before even Drake did, the sun barely starting to come up, the last of the night still lying grayly, heavily on the damp grass. He raced into the cave, hoping to get the few minutes with Brody before anybody else got up, before Fuller got up. The kid was asleep, his lips curled into a small smile. He felt bad shaking him awake, looking the way he did, but he had to.

Brody got up in one fluid motion, looking at him with concern. “I’m sorry to wake you, but there is something I have to tell you, and you need to let me.”

The kid just nodded. “Your father... he wants out, Brody. I had to put the band on him again last night to keep him safe. I don’t know how to help him, don’t think any of us but you can. He doesn’t think you can ever get past all that he did.... He is really hurting, is what I’m saying, and there isn’t a bloody thing I can do to make it any easier on him. He asked me to shoot him last night, before he went to see you, and then when you were asleep he almost did it himself, only I tailed him, so he couldn’t. I’m sorry, kid, but you needed to know. I don’t need to know what happened between you last night or anything. I never even got a chance to ask you how you felt about him being here and I’m sorry for that....”

Brody wasn’t listening anymore. He was running full speed to the flier, not looking at him. He followed, grabbing him by the shoulders on the stairs, stopping him, “They are all still asleep, Brody. Give it a minute or two.”

Brody turned around, “Please, let go of me.” And he did, had to. The kid ran up the steps into the flier, walked over to where Fuller was, and sat down next to him. He watched him put his arm around the man, Fuller awake now, looking at the kid. “We need to talk,” Brody’s soft voice.

The man got up without a word and they walked past him to the clearing. He stopped them and asked Max to please turn around. Fuller spun around, glaring at him, still angry.

“Give me your hands, Max,” he asked quietly. He did, and he unlocked the band and handed it to Brody, nodding to the kid, hoping he’d never have to use it on his father, but knowing, too, that he would if he felt he had to.

He walked to the stream, needing space from all of them, needing to be alone. He took his shoes off and waded in, feeling the water rush past him. He washed his face and his hair, enjoying the feel of cool water on his skin, calming himself. Afterwards, he sat on the bank, twirling the water with his toes, watching the sun rise slowly, pale yellow streams of light coming in through the trees on the other side of the water, making it hard to look at. He finally got up when he saw the tiny stream of smoke from the fledgling fire and walked back, barefoot, not wanting to put shoes on his wet feet.

Drake was by the fire, humming softly to himself, enjoying the morning as only people like him ever did, the ones who were up and running at the first sign of light. He nodded to him and helped him keep the flames going, neither of them saying anything. He knew Drake wouldn’t talk to him, not unless he wanted him to, and he was far too tired for that. They got the fire hot enough and Drake put up a kettle of tea and a smaller one with coffee, still humming contentedly, and went off to collect things for breakfast, leaving Lancer to watch over the flames.

He heard the soft rustling of branches being moved and watched Brody and Max come out into the clearing, speaking in whispers. There was no band on Max’s hands and he hoped it meant he’ll be okay now; that whatever Brody said to him would be enough to keep him safe. He knew the man would likely be angry at him for a long time, forever maybe, and that he would have to let him be. He was okay with it, if it meant Brody didn’t have to bury him just yet.

He watched, surprised, as Brody turned to the stream alone. Max waited for him to disappear on the trail, and then walked towards him. He stood, apprehension making his face feel hot. Max stopped a few small steps away from him, and put his hand out, eyes on his.

“I owe you an apology, Lancer, more than one, really, but one that really matters. I hope you’ll forgive me for what I’d asked of you. And I owe you a thank you, I think... for saving my life,” he said simply, quietly, and dipped his head slightly, his eyes serious, no humor in them.

He grabbed the man’s hand with both of his and then surprised himself by pulling him into a hug. Max hugged him back, fiercely, smiling at him, “I think we’re going to be great friends,” and he stepped away from him, still smiling and ran to the flier, looking much younger than his forty something years.

“What are you grinning about, soldier?” Drake’s voice startled him. He didn’t realize he was grinning until now. Drake looked at him curiously for a moment, and went back to preparing whatever he was going to throw into the pan. He watched him set the pan with all the stuff in it on the embers after a while and pour tea for himself and coffee for him, as if he knew he hadn’t slept much last night. He always seemed to know these things about everybody, and he knew it pleased him immensely that he could do these small kindnesses for them. He thanked him, enjoying the first few sips of the hot, bitter liquid.

“He’ll be all right, Fuller will. I was wrong about him my whole life I think. Never thought I’d say it, but I like the man. Strange, how that happens.... I could have killed him with my bare hands for what he did to Brody in Crylo, you know, I wanted to,” and he shook his head, sadness radiating from his soft face, “what you did last night—you saved two people, I think. I don’t think Brody could have survived it.”

He dropped his eyes, thinking of the little gray-eyed boy, the one he’d likely never see again, not even as a frame on his screen, and he felt his eyes fill up and spill over, Drake’s blurry shape moving towards him, slowly, as if through mist. He put his head into his hands and felt Drake’s giant arms around him after a beat, and he let himself cry for his boy, let the pain of losing him for good wash over him, spilling in hot streams through his fingers, Drake’s soft voice telling him that somehow or other it’ll be all right, and that he should have done it a long time ago, should have let himself cry. He heard the door to the flier slide open and bolted up and away from the fire, away from Drake and all these people coming down to the clearing, running blindly into the woods.

He felt branches slapping him in the face and neck but didn’t feel the pain of it, didn’t feel much of anything at all, until he ran full speed into Brody, knocking him to the ground. The kid got up, slowly, a stunned look on his face, and stood there blocking him, staring at him. He heard him whispering his name over and over again after a while, only he didn’t know what he was supposed to do about it. Brody put his arm around him and walked him the rest of the way to the water, and then made him sit down on the edge of it. He was too dazed to fight him.

He felt Brody put something cold and wet to his face, not saying anything, and he closed his eyes and let him, and after a while he felt his own breathing again, felt the blood rush to his face, something burning on it, all the coldness and wetness gone now. He heard the kid move and opened his eyes.

Brody was crouching in front of him, his feet in the water. “I can’t leave you here like this, Lancer, so please, don’t ask.... We’ll find him, you know? Not in any way that’ll hurt him, but we will. Someday, even if it takes years.”

The kid was watching him, eyes shining gold through all that blue in the early sun, sadness etching lines into his too-young face. “Tell me what to do, Lancer, anything. I’ll do it; we all will, you know that,” Brody whispered, still looking at him in that way, and it hurt to see him like this.

But he couldn’t talk now, didn’t trust himself to. He shook his head and waited for the kid to go, to let him be, only Brody didn’t move and it made him want to laugh, remembering when he did that to him in Reston, and how angry the kid got at him for it. He made himself stand up, Brody standing with him, keeping his hand on his arm to steady him. “I need to say goodbye to him is what’s going on, and I don’t know how to do it.... I haven’t thought about it until just now, after all that happened with your father, that I won’t even get the frames of him anymore. I won’t know how he is or what he looks like and there isn’t a damn thing any of us can do about any of it. I’ll be all right, I promise. I just need a moment.”

Brody nodded and walked away, not saying a word or making any noise on the trail, and he knew he wouldn’t say anything about it again, not to him, not to anybody.

He knelt in the wet sand, the water lapping around him in cold swirls, and closed his eyes, remembering every feature of the boy he loved but never knew, trying to picture what he was doing right now, picture how he was. He took the screen with his face on it out of his pocket and flipped through all the frames he had, stopping on the last one they sent him, the last one they would ever send. He looked at it for a long time, letting the tears run down his face. “Forgive me, son,” he whispered into the serious gray eyes, and stood up, turning the screen off, and in one hard motion hurled it into the water, the splash of it making him flinch.

The stream carried it quickly downward, away from him, making it smaller and smaller, and when he couldn’t see it anymore, he turned away and walked back to the clearing, to the warmth of the fire and Drake’s face, steeling himself for the concerned looks but knowing, too, that they would let him be, because that’s just how they were. And he thought for one brief, hopeful moment that maybe Brody was right; that somehow they would get him back to him, however long it took. It’s all he had left of him now, this sliver of hope, so he let it settle heavily on his heart, feeling it claw at all the raw places in him.