Numb3rs Fic: Air
Written for numb3rs_newyear 2008
Crossposted to numb3rs_slash
Title: Air
Series/Universe: Air
Pairing/Characters: Ian/Colby
Rating: PG13
Spoilers: Judgment Call, The Mole, Janus List, Trust Metric, Sniper Zero
Summary: A simple canvas turns dangerous for Colby and Ian
Notes/Warnings: Read the disclaimer on my LJ
Other comments are housed at numb3rs_newyear.
Suddenly there is no air.
For the first time in his life, his body fails him. It falls to the ground of its own accord, his strength leaving him as swiftly as the lifeblood leaves his body.
Fire blooms in his chest and he tries to gasp, draw a breath.
He can't.
He sputters and tastes blood in his mouth.
His blood.
So this is dying.
+
"Which one is this?"
Colby looked down in despair as the dirt road ruined the shine on his best dress shoes. He was going to have to take his suit pants to the dry cleaners and his jacket too, thanks to all the pickup trucks kicking up clouds of dust on the narrow dirt roads.
"Dyer Farm."
Ian had on cowboy boots that looked made for mud and dirt and trudging through farms in the middle of nowhere.
He was the senior agent. He got to wear jeans while out canvassing.
Then again, it's not as if anyone would ever try to tell Ian what to wear.
"Place looks deserted."
Two sets of trained agent eyes scanned the empty corrals, filled with tumbleweeds not horses. The rickety screen door blew open and banged shut with each gust of wind.
"Except for the truck."
A dark blue late model Ford peeked out from behind the barn, the thick layer of dust on every surface around them absent from its shiny hood.
As they approached they could see a man with his back to them load a bale of hay into the bed of the truck.
Colby pulled out his badge on autopilot, flipping it open and holding it up for the man to see.
"Excuse me sir, FBI. We'd like to ask you a few questions."
+
I should be scared.
The cloudless sky is a peaceful blue and the tree branches overhead sway in the gentle breeze.
It's kind of beautiful actually and distantly familiar.
He realizes that this is what the view from his father's grave is like - he spent enough time lying out there in the grass as a teenager.
He thinks it will be nice to have his grave there too.
There just won't be a son to come lay beside his headstone and tell him his troubles.
+
The man finished loading the bale of hay, acting as if he hadn't heard them.
Then Ian went for his gun beside him and Colby sensed something was off a split second after Ian did.
He couldn't go for his gun; his badge was in his right hand. So he dropped his badge and reached.
The man spun around, aimed a gun at him.
There were two pops - so close together they almost sounded like one.
His hand faltered. His gun dropped to the ground with a thud.
He looked down and saw a dark spot on his white dress shirt.
It got bigger.
It turned red.
+
This isn't the end he imagined.
Not that he ever envisioned dying in his sleep surrounded by grandchildren or anything. He figured he'd go out in a blaze of glory at least. Something to make his family proud.
It doesn't hurt really. He feels... Disconnected.
There's a ringing in his ears and he wishes it would go away; it's making it hard to think.
He figures he should pray, but has no idea what to say. Sorry? Thank you? Forgive me?
Ian's tense face appears above him and Colby wants to warn him, tell him to get down, take cover.
But Ian's the man. He doesn't need advice from a rookie like him. If Ian's acting like they're not under fire it must be over.
It's Ian. I trust him.
+
"Agent down! Gunshot wound to the chest! We need a medevac helicopter at Dyer Farm in Sylmar!" Ian leaned down over Colby. "Colby, listen to me. You need to stay awake. Now I'm going to apply pressure to your wound. It's going to hurt like hell. Don't pass out."
He put his hand over the rapidly expanding red stain on Colby's chest and pressed down.
"Oh, god!" Colby cried, recoiling in pain.
"Medevac's on its way. Just hang on."
"Guy... Had a gun..."
"I figured it out too late. I'm sorry." Ian seemed honestly penitent, sorrow sneaking through the scowl on his face.
"Is he..."
"I put a bullet in his forehead, Colby. I'm not wasting my time to go check to make sure he's dead. When I put a bullet in someone's head they don't ever get up again."
Colby laid back and studied Ian's face as he cursed silently, pressing harder.
"It's okay," Colby said slowly, each word enveloped in fog. "I know... I'm going to die."
"No you're not, damn it!" Ian spat out. "I outrank you and if I order you to fight, you'll fight! Understand me?"
"Not in the army anymore..."
"Doesn't let you off the hook," Ian argued. "Trust me, you don't want me pissed at you."
"What are you going to do? Shoot me?" Colby tried to laugh but just sputtered blood from his lips.
"Shit," Ian swore. "The bullet must have punctured your lung. I need to get you on your side so the blood doesn't flood your other lung."
Ian shifted positions to sit on the ground, dragging Colby's upper body into his lap and laying him on his injured side.
Almost immediately Colby could breathe a little easier.
"Thanks..." he muttered.
Ian kept pressure on the wound with one hand and wrapped the other around Colby, keeping him close.
"Medevac will be here any minute now. Stay with me..."
+
He's lying in Ian's arms and there's something comforting about that, once he gets past the idea that untouchable Ian Edgerton would allow anyone to get this close.
There's something in Ian's expression - a crack in the armor. The sniper god he worshiped in Afghanistan and admired up close working in the FBI... He looks different right now. Human.
He wants to reach up and touch the face above him, make sure it's real.
His hand shakes, but it makes it all the way up to brush his fingers against the hard line of Ian's jaw.
Ian doesn't shy away, doesn't look at him like he's a freak.
He almost seems to lean towards his hand.
I wonder what it would be like to kiss him.
+
His fingers sought out Ian's face, brushing against his cheek, the skin tawny and smooth beneath his fingers without a hint of stubble.
Ian turned his face into Colby's hand, subtly at first but then more encouragingly.
Colby wanted to see more of this human Ian, discover what was underneath the hard Kevlar shell, but he was too weak; his hand went limp and dropped to his chest.
His eyelids felt heavy so he closed them only to have them pop back open at Ian's bark.
"Open those eyes! That's an order, soldier!"
He tried to keep them open, but the pull was too strong - stronger than him, stronger than five generations of following orders.
Ian grabbed his face with one large hand and shook, slapping his cheek to rouse him.
The beat of rotors overhead and suddenly he was back in Afghanistan. It was Dwayne hovering over him, yelling at him. It wasn't cordite lingering in the air from a single shot, it was smoke from the Humvee fire.
Ian, Dwayne, Ian... Reality and memory flickered and he thought with a sick humor that if Dwayne saved his life and owned it, was it really his to hand over to Ian now that Dwayne was dead?
"Look at me! Look, Colby! Damn it! Look!"
He blinked, focusing, and Dwayne disappeared. Ian was right in front of him, piercing eyes demanding he fall in.
He'd never really looked Ian in the eye before, no one dared to, but he found there was a man inside the myth; the legend had a life.
Their eyes met and understanding passed between them. A bond was forged as Colby breathed in time with Ian, every inhalation a mission they accomplished together.
"I won't let you die," Ian murmured.
Dwayne was gone. If he had any life left at this moment, he'd gladly hand it over to Ian.
"I'm yours now," he mumbled, thinking that didn't come out exactly right, but Ian's hand cupped his face and he smiled at him so it had to be okay.
He understood as he automatically sought the warmth of Ian's palm. It was instinct. Like he'd gravitated to the autumn bonfires growing up as the flickering flames consumed the dry leaves in the crisp air, he was drawn to Ian's warmth.
Over two years.
He missed it.
So when he closed his eyes it was to peace and comfort.
No fear.
+
"Colby... Colby..."
A voice cut through the haze: deep, warm and commanding.
Colby's eyes fluttered open and Ian's blurred face slowly came into focus against a field of white.
White... A bed... Machines... Hospital.
"Not dead," Colby managed, his voice harsh from disuse.
He felt Ian's hand on his arm, gentle yet steady pressure. Reassuring... Solid.
"I told you I wasn't going to let you die."
Colby took a moment to wake fully - as much as the drugs in his IV would allow anyway.
"So you own me now," he mumbled. "You saved my life, now it's yours."
"Is that what you think?"
Colby blinked at him. "Dwayne saved my life. He said that meant he owned it."
"I'm not Dwayne." A beat passed before Ian spoke again. "Besides, if that were true I'd own so many lives by now I wouldn't know what to do with them. You don't owe me anything. Your life is your own." Ian glanced away for a second. "I just wanted to make sure you had one to live."
"Apparently I haven't used up all nine of my lives yet," Colby tried to joke.
The room fell into an awkward silence.
"Is that what you meant?" Ian asked quietly. "At the farm, before you lost consciousness... You said 'I'm yours now.'"
"Yeah, that's what I meant." Colby looked at him, confused. "Why, what did you think I meant?"
Ian purposefully avoided his eyes. "Wasn't sure," he said dismissively. "But you're okay now and that's what matters."
Ian started to step away, but Colby tugged at his sleeve.
"Wait."
Ian paused for the briefest of seconds then slipped away, only not to leave but to bring a chair over to sit beside his bed.
"What is it?"
"Talk to me," Colby asked plainly. "After all that happened... I barely know who you are."
Ian gave a little shrug. "You know the basics. Ex-Army. Third best sniper in the country..."
"Tell me something not in your dossier," Colby interrupted.
Ian let out a breath. "I have a son."
Colby's eyes widened. "You have a kid?"
Ian nodded. "He's almost three. I just got custody of him four months ago. His mother was killed in action in Iraq so he came to live with me."
"Oh man, I'm sorry," Colby said, honestly sympathetic. "My Dad died when I was a teenager. Some casualties of war are more real than others." After a pause, Colby continued. "So you were married?"
Ian shook his head. "She was a friend. Fellow army with a partner she couldn't acknowledge." Colby nodded in understanding. "They wanted a baby and since we had a kinship of sorts she asked me to be the donor. So Sean's mine biologically, but I didn't raise him."
"Why isn't his other mother raising him?"
"They split up during her pregnancy. Alma was the only mother Sean knew. She hired my baby sister Delia to be his full time nanny so he had a stable caretaker while she was on missions. So my sister's still caring for Sean, only he's my responsibility now."
"Do you have a picture?"
Ian seemed surprised, but fished out his wallet anyway, pulling out a small well-creased photograph, which he handed to Colby.
The picture was of the toddler curled up asleep on Ian's chest. He had his father's black hair and long lashes that lay on his cheeks. Far paler than his suntanned parent, his skin still held a hint of the dusky olive tone in the hand that held him close.
Ian's face was partially out of frame, but there was a sense of calm about him, a man of action finally at rest.
"I never imagined you with a kid," Colby admitted, handing the picture back.
"Neither did I." Ian took a long look at the picture before he put it back in the wallet. "But I'm a father now and that means he's the most important thing." He put the wallet back in his pocket. "One of the reasons I came to L.A. was to interview for a position here. The head of SWAT is retiring and they offered me the job."
"Head of SWAT? Wow..." Colby said, suitably impressed.
"I can't be on the road anymore. Sean needs to know his last remaining parent will come home every night."
Colby nodded solemnly. "Poor kid. I can't imagine what it would be like to lose your mom that young."
"Well, he loves Delia, which helps. He's her blood nephew so she loves him too. I'm sure if anything did happen to me she'd raise him as her own, no question."
"Yeah, but if you get married..."
Ian gave Colby a look. "I think you know that's not going to happen."
"Oh." Colby paused for a moment. "I thought that me getting that vibe from you at the farm was just wishful thinking on my part."
Ian smiled at him, a wide relaxed grin that lit up his face. "What's so bad about wishful thinking? Some wishes do come true."
Colby sputtered in shock causing a flare of agony in his chest. He folded over automatically, curling in on himself against the pain.
Ian was out of his seat like a bolt, taking him by the shoulders and easing him back down to the pillows.
"Easy, easy... Shallow breaths... Shallow even breaths..." Colby let his eyes fall closed, concentrating on following Ian's instructions. He felt Ian push something into his hand. "Press that button. It's for pain meds." He pressed obediently and it wasn't long before the morphine dulled the shards of pain deep inside him.
He opened his eyes to find Ian's face hovering over him, brow furrowed in concern.
"I'm okay..." he muttered. "Forgot for a minute I got shot."
"Yeah, and I forgot not to get a man with a collapsed lung all excited."
As the drug started taking hold, Colby's eyes drooped despite him not wanting to fall back asleep.
"You sure you don't own me now?" Colby asked drowsily.
Ian brought his hand up to Colby's face and this time he turned into it easily, letting go of any need for pretense.
"Saving your life doesn't mean I own it," Ian murmured. "But since it's yours, you're free to give it away to anyone you want..."
The last thing Colby felt before the morphine took him away was the press of lips against his.
And then nothing.
+
"Okay, you've got the remote control, magazines, a box of comic books from David..."
Colby smirked at Megan. "You know they're not the good ones. He'd never let me touch those."
"I bet David doesn't even touch the good ones," she tossed back with a grin. "You've got plenty of water, your prescriptions, snacks, a phone..."
"Megan, I'm fine. I'm on bed rest, not immobilized. Seriously, they wouldn't have let me out of the hospital if I wasn't okay on my own."
Megan scoffed. "You so don't want to get me started on a rant about the state of health care in America."
"Point taken. I have my phone and I will call if I need anything."
"Promise?" she eyed him warily.
"If I need you, I will call. I promise." He accepted a warm hug from her. "Thanks for bringing me home," he murmured into her shoulder.
"Thanks for not dying." She stood back up, giving him an affectionate look. "Rest up. I'll be by tomorrow to check on you."
"You don't have to do that."
"Not up for negotiation!" she called out with a wave as she headed out his bedroom door. "See you tomorrow!"
He rubbed the heels of his hands into his eyes, worn out from just the small amount of effort required to check out of the hospital and get settled at home. He pulled his hands away with a start at the sound of a floorboard creaking nearby.
Ian stood leaning against the doorway of his bedroom.
"Hello, stranger," Colby said, unable to keep a pleased smile off his face.
Ian returned his smile and headed towards the bed. "How are you holding up, soldier?"
"Got a few weeks before I can go back on active duty," Colby complained, moving the remote so Ian could sit on the edge of the bed beside him. "I may die of boredom before then. How about you? How's the family?"
"The move's coming along," Ian said, shrugging a little. "We got everything packed up back east and moved into temporary housing here. It took a while to find a house, but I finally made an offer on one in Westwood with a really good school nearby."
"Westwood? Pricey!" Colby marveled.
"Yeah, well once Alma's estate was liquidated..." Ian paused briefly. "And it's not like I've spent any of my money on creature comforts over the years. So getting a house in a safe area with good schools was important. That and Delia's applied to grad school at UCLA. She'll go part-time until Sean's in kindergarten, but she's fine with that."
"Sounds pretty settled."
"It might be weird at first," Ian admitted, "but there's something to be said for having people you care about part of your everyday life."
"I'll be honest, I never thought of you as the type who needed anyone."
"I don't." Ian slid a hand onto Colby's knee. "Which means when I want to spend time with someone it means something."
"Ian..." Colby said slowly. "I'm not out..."
Ian tensed a little, but sounded casual. "Nor am I."
"But," Colby continued. "I would go public. If there were a reason to, I mean."
Ian nodded.
"Sounds fair."
Colby let out a huff of amazement. "I can't believe I'm having this conversation. With you of all people."
"Me neither," Ian echoed. "Since that's not what I came over for." He slid a hand behind Colby's neck and moved in, pausing for a second, his mouth hovering over Colby's. "I think we got interrupted last time..."
Colby almost held his breath, but the idea of breathing Ian's air was intoxicating. He tilted his head slightly as he inhaled and that was all the invitation Ian needed.
Ian was all power, control and competence - taking control of the kiss from the first meeting of their lips. Colby simply surrendered to the strength of the one person he'd met he knew was stronger than he was, in every way.
With each thrust of his tongue, Ian claimed him, deep drugging kisses that Colby willingly drowned in.
Head spinning, he pulled away just slightly and Ian took the cue, ending the kiss reluctantly.
"Forgot for a minute I'm supposed to be recovering from being shot."
Ian let out an amused chuckle and ran his hand up a few inches from Colby's knee to his thigh.
"Yeah, and I forgot not to get a man on strict bed rest all excited."
"The bed's easy," Colby said ruefully. "It's the rest that's the tricky part."
"Trust me..." Ian leaned in close, letting his voice dip into a low rumble. "You're going to need to be at full strength for what I have in mind."
Suddenly there was no air.
And then Ian's mouth was on his again, kissing him, bringing him back to life.
=
Crossposted to numb3rs_slash
Title: Air
Series/Universe: Air
Pairing/Characters: Ian/Colby
Rating: PG13
Spoilers: Judgment Call, The Mole, Janus List, Trust Metric, Sniper Zero
Summary: A simple canvas turns dangerous for Colby and Ian
Notes/Warnings: Read the disclaimer on my LJ
Other comments are housed at numb3rs_newyear.
Suddenly there is no air.
For the first time in his life, his body fails him. It falls to the ground of its own accord, his strength leaving him as swiftly as the lifeblood leaves his body.
Fire blooms in his chest and he tries to gasp, draw a breath.
He can't.
He sputters and tastes blood in his mouth.
His blood.
So this is dying.
+
"Which one is this?"
Colby looked down in despair as the dirt road ruined the shine on his best dress shoes. He was going to have to take his suit pants to the dry cleaners and his jacket too, thanks to all the pickup trucks kicking up clouds of dust on the narrow dirt roads.
"Dyer Farm."
Ian had on cowboy boots that looked made for mud and dirt and trudging through farms in the middle of nowhere.
He was the senior agent. He got to wear jeans while out canvassing.
Then again, it's not as if anyone would ever try to tell Ian what to wear.
"Place looks deserted."
Two sets of trained agent eyes scanned the empty corrals, filled with tumbleweeds not horses. The rickety screen door blew open and banged shut with each gust of wind.
"Except for the truck."
A dark blue late model Ford peeked out from behind the barn, the thick layer of dust on every surface around them absent from its shiny hood.
As they approached they could see a man with his back to them load a bale of hay into the bed of the truck.
Colby pulled out his badge on autopilot, flipping it open and holding it up for the man to see.
"Excuse me sir, FBI. We'd like to ask you a few questions."
+
I should be scared.
The cloudless sky is a peaceful blue and the tree branches overhead sway in the gentle breeze.
It's kind of beautiful actually and distantly familiar.
He realizes that this is what the view from his father's grave is like - he spent enough time lying out there in the grass as a teenager.
He thinks it will be nice to have his grave there too.
There just won't be a son to come lay beside his headstone and tell him his troubles.
+
The man finished loading the bale of hay, acting as if he hadn't heard them.
Then Ian went for his gun beside him and Colby sensed something was off a split second after Ian did.
He couldn't go for his gun; his badge was in his right hand. So he dropped his badge and reached.
The man spun around, aimed a gun at him.
There were two pops - so close together they almost sounded like one.
His hand faltered. His gun dropped to the ground with a thud.
He looked down and saw a dark spot on his white dress shirt.
It got bigger.
It turned red.
+
This isn't the end he imagined.
Not that he ever envisioned dying in his sleep surrounded by grandchildren or anything. He figured he'd go out in a blaze of glory at least. Something to make his family proud.
It doesn't hurt really. He feels... Disconnected.
There's a ringing in his ears and he wishes it would go away; it's making it hard to think.
He figures he should pray, but has no idea what to say. Sorry? Thank you? Forgive me?
Ian's tense face appears above him and Colby wants to warn him, tell him to get down, take cover.
But Ian's the man. He doesn't need advice from a rookie like him. If Ian's acting like they're not under fire it must be over.
It's Ian. I trust him.
+
"Agent down! Gunshot wound to the chest! We need a medevac helicopter at Dyer Farm in Sylmar!" Ian leaned down over Colby. "Colby, listen to me. You need to stay awake. Now I'm going to apply pressure to your wound. It's going to hurt like hell. Don't pass out."
He put his hand over the rapidly expanding red stain on Colby's chest and pressed down.
"Oh, god!" Colby cried, recoiling in pain.
"Medevac's on its way. Just hang on."
"Guy... Had a gun..."
"I figured it out too late. I'm sorry." Ian seemed honestly penitent, sorrow sneaking through the scowl on his face.
"Is he..."
"I put a bullet in his forehead, Colby. I'm not wasting my time to go check to make sure he's dead. When I put a bullet in someone's head they don't ever get up again."
Colby laid back and studied Ian's face as he cursed silently, pressing harder.
"It's okay," Colby said slowly, each word enveloped in fog. "I know... I'm going to die."
"No you're not, damn it!" Ian spat out. "I outrank you and if I order you to fight, you'll fight! Understand me?"
"Not in the army anymore..."
"Doesn't let you off the hook," Ian argued. "Trust me, you don't want me pissed at you."
"What are you going to do? Shoot me?" Colby tried to laugh but just sputtered blood from his lips.
"Shit," Ian swore. "The bullet must have punctured your lung. I need to get you on your side so the blood doesn't flood your other lung."
Ian shifted positions to sit on the ground, dragging Colby's upper body into his lap and laying him on his injured side.
Almost immediately Colby could breathe a little easier.
"Thanks..." he muttered.
Ian kept pressure on the wound with one hand and wrapped the other around Colby, keeping him close.
"Medevac will be here any minute now. Stay with me..."
+
He's lying in Ian's arms and there's something comforting about that, once he gets past the idea that untouchable Ian Edgerton would allow anyone to get this close.
There's something in Ian's expression - a crack in the armor. The sniper god he worshiped in Afghanistan and admired up close working in the FBI... He looks different right now. Human.
He wants to reach up and touch the face above him, make sure it's real.
His hand shakes, but it makes it all the way up to brush his fingers against the hard line of Ian's jaw.
Ian doesn't shy away, doesn't look at him like he's a freak.
He almost seems to lean towards his hand.
I wonder what it would be like to kiss him.
+
His fingers sought out Ian's face, brushing against his cheek, the skin tawny and smooth beneath his fingers without a hint of stubble.
Ian turned his face into Colby's hand, subtly at first but then more encouragingly.
Colby wanted to see more of this human Ian, discover what was underneath the hard Kevlar shell, but he was too weak; his hand went limp and dropped to his chest.
His eyelids felt heavy so he closed them only to have them pop back open at Ian's bark.
"Open those eyes! That's an order, soldier!"
He tried to keep them open, but the pull was too strong - stronger than him, stronger than five generations of following orders.
Ian grabbed his face with one large hand and shook, slapping his cheek to rouse him.
The beat of rotors overhead and suddenly he was back in Afghanistan. It was Dwayne hovering over him, yelling at him. It wasn't cordite lingering in the air from a single shot, it was smoke from the Humvee fire.
Ian, Dwayne, Ian... Reality and memory flickered and he thought with a sick humor that if Dwayne saved his life and owned it, was it really his to hand over to Ian now that Dwayne was dead?
"Look at me! Look, Colby! Damn it! Look!"
He blinked, focusing, and Dwayne disappeared. Ian was right in front of him, piercing eyes demanding he fall in.
He'd never really looked Ian in the eye before, no one dared to, but he found there was a man inside the myth; the legend had a life.
Their eyes met and understanding passed between them. A bond was forged as Colby breathed in time with Ian, every inhalation a mission they accomplished together.
"I won't let you die," Ian murmured.
Dwayne was gone. If he had any life left at this moment, he'd gladly hand it over to Ian.
"I'm yours now," he mumbled, thinking that didn't come out exactly right, but Ian's hand cupped his face and he smiled at him so it had to be okay.
He understood as he automatically sought the warmth of Ian's palm. It was instinct. Like he'd gravitated to the autumn bonfires growing up as the flickering flames consumed the dry leaves in the crisp air, he was drawn to Ian's warmth.
Over two years.
He missed it.
So when he closed his eyes it was to peace and comfort.
No fear.
+
"Colby... Colby..."
A voice cut through the haze: deep, warm and commanding.
Colby's eyes fluttered open and Ian's blurred face slowly came into focus against a field of white.
White... A bed... Machines... Hospital.
"Not dead," Colby managed, his voice harsh from disuse.
He felt Ian's hand on his arm, gentle yet steady pressure. Reassuring... Solid.
"I told you I wasn't going to let you die."
Colby took a moment to wake fully - as much as the drugs in his IV would allow anyway.
"So you own me now," he mumbled. "You saved my life, now it's yours."
"Is that what you think?"
Colby blinked at him. "Dwayne saved my life. He said that meant he owned it."
"I'm not Dwayne." A beat passed before Ian spoke again. "Besides, if that were true I'd own so many lives by now I wouldn't know what to do with them. You don't owe me anything. Your life is your own." Ian glanced away for a second. "I just wanted to make sure you had one to live."
"Apparently I haven't used up all nine of my lives yet," Colby tried to joke.
The room fell into an awkward silence.
"Is that what you meant?" Ian asked quietly. "At the farm, before you lost consciousness... You said 'I'm yours now.'"
"Yeah, that's what I meant." Colby looked at him, confused. "Why, what did you think I meant?"
Ian purposefully avoided his eyes. "Wasn't sure," he said dismissively. "But you're okay now and that's what matters."
Ian started to step away, but Colby tugged at his sleeve.
"Wait."
Ian paused for the briefest of seconds then slipped away, only not to leave but to bring a chair over to sit beside his bed.
"What is it?"
"Talk to me," Colby asked plainly. "After all that happened... I barely know who you are."
Ian gave a little shrug. "You know the basics. Ex-Army. Third best sniper in the country..."
"Tell me something not in your dossier," Colby interrupted.
Ian let out a breath. "I have a son."
Colby's eyes widened. "You have a kid?"
Ian nodded. "He's almost three. I just got custody of him four months ago. His mother was killed in action in Iraq so he came to live with me."
"Oh man, I'm sorry," Colby said, honestly sympathetic. "My Dad died when I was a teenager. Some casualties of war are more real than others." After a pause, Colby continued. "So you were married?"
Ian shook his head. "She was a friend. Fellow army with a partner she couldn't acknowledge." Colby nodded in understanding. "They wanted a baby and since we had a kinship of sorts she asked me to be the donor. So Sean's mine biologically, but I didn't raise him."
"Why isn't his other mother raising him?"
"They split up during her pregnancy. Alma was the only mother Sean knew. She hired my baby sister Delia to be his full time nanny so he had a stable caretaker while she was on missions. So my sister's still caring for Sean, only he's my responsibility now."
"Do you have a picture?"
Ian seemed surprised, but fished out his wallet anyway, pulling out a small well-creased photograph, which he handed to Colby.
The picture was of the toddler curled up asleep on Ian's chest. He had his father's black hair and long lashes that lay on his cheeks. Far paler than his suntanned parent, his skin still held a hint of the dusky olive tone in the hand that held him close.
Ian's face was partially out of frame, but there was a sense of calm about him, a man of action finally at rest.
"I never imagined you with a kid," Colby admitted, handing the picture back.
"Neither did I." Ian took a long look at the picture before he put it back in the wallet. "But I'm a father now and that means he's the most important thing." He put the wallet back in his pocket. "One of the reasons I came to L.A. was to interview for a position here. The head of SWAT is retiring and they offered me the job."
"Head of SWAT? Wow..." Colby said, suitably impressed.
"I can't be on the road anymore. Sean needs to know his last remaining parent will come home every night."
Colby nodded solemnly. "Poor kid. I can't imagine what it would be like to lose your mom that young."
"Well, he loves Delia, which helps. He's her blood nephew so she loves him too. I'm sure if anything did happen to me she'd raise him as her own, no question."
"Yeah, but if you get married..."
Ian gave Colby a look. "I think you know that's not going to happen."
"Oh." Colby paused for a moment. "I thought that me getting that vibe from you at the farm was just wishful thinking on my part."
Ian smiled at him, a wide relaxed grin that lit up his face. "What's so bad about wishful thinking? Some wishes do come true."
Colby sputtered in shock causing a flare of agony in his chest. He folded over automatically, curling in on himself against the pain.
Ian was out of his seat like a bolt, taking him by the shoulders and easing him back down to the pillows.
"Easy, easy... Shallow breaths... Shallow even breaths..." Colby let his eyes fall closed, concentrating on following Ian's instructions. He felt Ian push something into his hand. "Press that button. It's for pain meds." He pressed obediently and it wasn't long before the morphine dulled the shards of pain deep inside him.
He opened his eyes to find Ian's face hovering over him, brow furrowed in concern.
"I'm okay..." he muttered. "Forgot for a minute I got shot."
"Yeah, and I forgot not to get a man with a collapsed lung all excited."
As the drug started taking hold, Colby's eyes drooped despite him not wanting to fall back asleep.
"You sure you don't own me now?" Colby asked drowsily.
Ian brought his hand up to Colby's face and this time he turned into it easily, letting go of any need for pretense.
"Saving your life doesn't mean I own it," Ian murmured. "But since it's yours, you're free to give it away to anyone you want..."
The last thing Colby felt before the morphine took him away was the press of lips against his.
And then nothing.
+
"Okay, you've got the remote control, magazines, a box of comic books from David..."
Colby smirked at Megan. "You know they're not the good ones. He'd never let me touch those."
"I bet David doesn't even touch the good ones," she tossed back with a grin. "You've got plenty of water, your prescriptions, snacks, a phone..."
"Megan, I'm fine. I'm on bed rest, not immobilized. Seriously, they wouldn't have let me out of the hospital if I wasn't okay on my own."
Megan scoffed. "You so don't want to get me started on a rant about the state of health care in America."
"Point taken. I have my phone and I will call if I need anything."
"Promise?" she eyed him warily.
"If I need you, I will call. I promise." He accepted a warm hug from her. "Thanks for bringing me home," he murmured into her shoulder.
"Thanks for not dying." She stood back up, giving him an affectionate look. "Rest up. I'll be by tomorrow to check on you."
"You don't have to do that."
"Not up for negotiation!" she called out with a wave as she headed out his bedroom door. "See you tomorrow!"
He rubbed the heels of his hands into his eyes, worn out from just the small amount of effort required to check out of the hospital and get settled at home. He pulled his hands away with a start at the sound of a floorboard creaking nearby.
Ian stood leaning against the doorway of his bedroom.
"Hello, stranger," Colby said, unable to keep a pleased smile off his face.
Ian returned his smile and headed towards the bed. "How are you holding up, soldier?"
"Got a few weeks before I can go back on active duty," Colby complained, moving the remote so Ian could sit on the edge of the bed beside him. "I may die of boredom before then. How about you? How's the family?"
"The move's coming along," Ian said, shrugging a little. "We got everything packed up back east and moved into temporary housing here. It took a while to find a house, but I finally made an offer on one in Westwood with a really good school nearby."
"Westwood? Pricey!" Colby marveled.
"Yeah, well once Alma's estate was liquidated..." Ian paused briefly. "And it's not like I've spent any of my money on creature comforts over the years. So getting a house in a safe area with good schools was important. That and Delia's applied to grad school at UCLA. She'll go part-time until Sean's in kindergarten, but she's fine with that."
"Sounds pretty settled."
"It might be weird at first," Ian admitted, "but there's something to be said for having people you care about part of your everyday life."
"I'll be honest, I never thought of you as the type who needed anyone."
"I don't." Ian slid a hand onto Colby's knee. "Which means when I want to spend time with someone it means something."
"Ian..." Colby said slowly. "I'm not out..."
Ian tensed a little, but sounded casual. "Nor am I."
"But," Colby continued. "I would go public. If there were a reason to, I mean."
Ian nodded.
"Sounds fair."
Colby let out a huff of amazement. "I can't believe I'm having this conversation. With you of all people."
"Me neither," Ian echoed. "Since that's not what I came over for." He slid a hand behind Colby's neck and moved in, pausing for a second, his mouth hovering over Colby's. "I think we got interrupted last time..."
Colby almost held his breath, but the idea of breathing Ian's air was intoxicating. He tilted his head slightly as he inhaled and that was all the invitation Ian needed.
Ian was all power, control and competence - taking control of the kiss from the first meeting of their lips. Colby simply surrendered to the strength of the one person he'd met he knew was stronger than he was, in every way.
With each thrust of his tongue, Ian claimed him, deep drugging kisses that Colby willingly drowned in.
Head spinning, he pulled away just slightly and Ian took the cue, ending the kiss reluctantly.
"Forgot for a minute I'm supposed to be recovering from being shot."
Ian let out an amused chuckle and ran his hand up a few inches from Colby's knee to his thigh.
"Yeah, and I forgot not to get a man on strict bed rest all excited."
"The bed's easy," Colby said ruefully. "It's the rest that's the tricky part."
"Trust me..." Ian leaned in close, letting his voice dip into a low rumble. "You're going to need to be at full strength for what I have in mind."
Suddenly there was no air.
And then Ian's mouth was on his again, kissing him, bringing him back to life.
=