Count to Three: Part 2

[l_s_d_me]

Title: Count to Three
Part: Part 2 Nate, Brad
Author: l_s_d_me
Pairing: Brad/Nate; Ray and Walt

Nate looked at each one of his men. Sitting on the floor of a dingy hotel room they all looked stronger than they had before. Nate was positive that the four of them being together, accepting their fate as it had claimed them, had altered their chemistry. All of them becoming more solid with each passing hour.

They had ordered pizza because according to Ray, “pizza is timeless, dude.” And it turned out it was. The four of them sat in a circle around a coffee table eating, talking about everything but nothing of importance. “I thought the future was going to be different,” Ray said. “Like chicks in silver bikinis flying around in cars that run on trash or somethin’. This looks just like my time only with a lot more plaid.”

“Don’t worry Ray,” Brad chimed in. “I live in a house that hovers. It’s staffed with robots that serve me food which appears out of thin air.”

“It’s true,” Nate said, backing Brad up.

Ray’s eyes went wide and his mouth dropped open. Nate could see a whole slice of pizza chewed up in there. Walt just sat there watching it all with a bemused look on his face.

“Really?!” Ray spat food everywhere. “Can we go there?! Are we going there next?!” He was practically bouncing up and down on his heels.

“Ray,” Walt said from beside him. “They’re joking with you.”

Nate looked at Brad, both of them shrugging simultaneously before taking a drink from their beer. Ray appropriately sulked in his spot for about thirty seconds before grabbing another piece of pizza and turning to Walt.

“Walt, Walt! Who am I?” He held the piece of pizza up to his face to take an exaggerated bite, but instead he yelled “cowabunga, dude!”

Walt’s face lit up as he sang out, “heroes in a half shell.” Before both of them yelled “Turtle Power!” and high-fived.

They both collapsed into laughing on the floor.

Nate was looking at them with fondness, glad that they had so much in common. He noticed Brad looking at him out of the corner of his eye and that warm feeling, that feeling of home washed over him. He made sure to stamp it back down before looking to acknowledge Brad.

When their eyes met, Brad raised an eyebrow at him and nodded once towards Ray and Walt. “They’re going to save the world?” he asked quietly, a smile floating on his voice.

Nate leaned back against the couch next to Brad, both of their legs straight out in front of them, their thighs nearly touching. “Even Heracles had his faults, Brad.”

Brad rolled his eyes. “You’re worse than they are, Nate.”

“Yeah, okay Mr. Can-We-Take-My-Bike-Back-in-Time-with-us. It’s just a bike”

Nate watched as Brad’s eyes went wide, going dark. He put his hand over Nate’s mouth. “Don’t talk about her like she doesn’t have feelings.” Nate smiled brightly behind Brad’s hand; he knew that Brad would be able to feel it. “Okay?” Brad asked, waiting for Nate’s nod of agreement before removing his hand; his thumb straying a little longer than necessary on Nate’s neck.

Nate waited a beat before coming back at him. “I just don’t see what the big deal is.”

Brad thumped his head back against the couch in exasperation. “That’s it! When we get back there we’re going for a ride and I don’t want to hear anything about it.”

“Fine,” Nate said. “Will I have to….”

“I said not a word,” Brad cut in, leaving them both on the verge of laughter.

Nate acquiesced and went back to his beer, his smile still playing on his lips. He caught Walt’s face, eyes trained in their direction. Nate had to fight against his muscles tensing, knowing that Brad would feel it and wonder what was wrong. How stupid could Nate be? Of course Walt would be able to sense it; the give and take between them, all of it. Nate took a sip of his beer as he forced himself to relax, bending his knees up to rest his hands on them.

“What’s on TV?” he asked.

*

They all fell asleep where they were sitting. Brad and Nate up against the couch, and Walt and Ray lying on their stomach’s facing the television set. There had been some show on about six friends who did nothing but hang out in a coffee shop and sleep with people. Ray had made them stop there when he swore one of the main characters was the girl from a Bruce Springsteen video. And then they all laughed as he imitated her dancing.

But that was hours ago. For now, they slept.

The warmth coming off of Brad lulled Nate into a deeper sleep than he had been in years, comforted by the feeling of being surrounded by his brothers. But then a chill crept in, deep inside his chest and up into his mind. He twitched in his sleep, his eyes squeezing tight as he jerked. A voice spoke within him.

“Nate” it whispered. “Give up. You can’t stop me. Nothing can. You’ll fail and they’ll all die.”

“No,” Nate mumbled in his sleep. “No.”

“Yeeeeesssssss,” it hissed unearthly. “I will make you watch as I tear out their hearts."

Nate jerked awake. Brad was still sound asleep beside him; the TV gave off an eerie glow in the pitch darkness of the room. He sat up, running his fingers through his hair he felt his forehead beaded with sweat. When he raised his head he saw them, a pair of eyes glowing at him from the corner of the room.

"Leave," Nate said, staring it down. "Don't fuck with us."

The thing laughed. "You dare speak to me like that?"

"Yes. I dare."

A growl emanated from the corner raising all the hairs on Nate's body. Then, as if in slow motion, it lunged at Nate. He moved to push himself up from the ground only to be knocked back down by Brad, sliding in front of him to grab it. When they collided the air went cold. Ray and Walt startled awake, looking around and trying to figure out what was going on.

"Move!" Nate yelled at them, and immediately they flung themselves closer to him. Each of them looked for the opportunity to help Brad.

"Get them out of here!" Brad yelled, wrestling with it. "Go! Now!"

"Brad! I'm not leaving you here." Nate watched as Brad kicked it in its side, followed by it pinning Brad down by his neck.

Nate looked at the pair to his left, his breath coming in quick pants as his worry over Brad heightened. We won't be good to anyone dead, he thought. "Fine," he said. "Ray, help him," was all Nate said before he grabbed Walt by the arm and disappeared.

The apartment Nate kept in Brad's world was dark and cold when they arrived. Walt gasped for air as Nate helped him down onto the couch. Sometimes it was easy to forget how moving through time can rattle a person. But there wasn't time for that now. "Walt, Walt," he said with urgency. "Get a fire going and stay here. I'll be back." He turned to go, clearing his head as always. "I promise."

Yelling filled the air upon Nate's arrival back in 1996. The television was on its side, the coffee table had been smashed and Ray was sliding down the wall. Brad had somehow managed to get the intruder around the neck, pulling at it from behind. His eyes met Nate's as soon as he appeared back in the room. There was trust and faith there as Nate ran to Ray's side. "Take Brad, Nate," Ray pleaded. "Leave me here to fight him. Brad's more valuable."

"Shut up, Ray," Nate told him as he grasped him around the shoulders with both hands.

The living room was warmer when Nate arrived with Ray. Walt was kneeling by the fire place but jumped to his feel when they were suddenly next to him. "Take me back!" Ray yelled, grabbing Nate by the fabric of his shirt. "Take me back there!"

"Walt," Nate yelled. "Grab him. I have to go for Brad."

Walt thrust himself forward, nearly tackling Ray in the process. They stumbled to the side, Ray reaching for Nate as Walt pressed him further away. Nate made sure both of them were no longer touching him when he went back.

It was like entering a place he had never seen before; the couches were ripped and there was blood on the floor. Nate scanned the room for Brad. It took him but a moment to find his figure working to push himself up on the other side of the bed. The man with the glowing eyes was slumped off to the side, but Nate could see him trying to pull up to his full height.

Nate broke into a run as he threw himself across the bed, sliding down square on top of Brad. Three, he thought as he cleared his mind; Two, and he relaxed his entire body save for the grip he held. Preparing. One.

They appeared on the floor of Nate’s apartment, still wrapped around each other and breathing hard. Nate panicked, “Are you alright?” he asked quietly just to Brad and he roamed his hands over Brad’s body checking for injury. He had seen blood in the hotel room, he knew he did. He prayed to anybody listening that Brad wasn't seriously injured; that he wasn't going to bleed out all over his apartment.

Brad was shaking silently below him. "I'm fine Nate, I'm fine...I'm fine," he repeated, grabbing Nate's hands that were still searching for injuries. "Nate, stop," he said softer finally stopping Nate's ministrations. "It's okay now."

Nate breathed out, resting his head on Brad's chest. "Are you sure?' he asked, not rising from his spot. “I saw blood." Brad cupped the back of his neck reassuringly. "It wasn't mine," he told Nate. "I cut it. It wasn't mine. It wasn't mine," he repeated, holding Nate to him.

*

“The legends call it Viator.”

Nate sat them all down to explain it all, anything they didn’t understand or hadn’t learned yet. He needed them to know everything he did. They sat in a circle on the floor in front of Nate’s fireplace.

“But that name,” Nate said, “passed into the shadows a millennium ago along with his soul. He’s now known as The Traveler. He moves from world to world, time to time, destroying everything. The Traveler sucks the world into himself like the black hole that he’s become.”

The ka-tet sat there still as night as Nate repeated everything he had told Brad about time flowing like the water cycle, and how they've together to protect the Cradle of Civilization and destroy the Traveler.

“Do you know when The Traveler is from?” Walt asked.

“Many think he’s from the beginning of time; my time, your time, all time,” he answered. “I honestly don’t know. I doubt he even remembers now.”

They faded into silence, each of them lost in their own heads. The four of them sat like that for minutes, hours, Nate didn’t know. But then Ray was speaking to him and they were all rigid with concentration once more.

“Nate,” Ray said, his voice a little confused. “How do you know all this?”

Nate knew this was coming so he steeled himself. “He killed my father.”

“How?” It was Brad asking now, and he was somehow imperceptibly closer to Nate than he had been a moment before.

“He ripped his heart out through his chest.” Nate’s voice was emotionless as he spoke, burying it all deep down, pushed sharply to the side and hidden behind his stomach.

“Why?” was whispered into the circle. Nate didn’t know who said it, but it didn’t matter.

He reached to his side where he had left a small bundle wrapped in an old dish towel that looked to be from a country kitchen. Nate set the bundle in the middle of them all and slowly went about untying it. He splayed the cloth out, each corner as straight as possible. Finally he moved back revealing two rosewood gripped revolvers shining in the light of the fire.

“For these,” was all he said.

Brad’s hand reached out, hovering over one of the pair. He didn’t touch it; he just left his hand there, feeling whatever energy was coming off of them. But Nate knew that the one Brad had used to shoot the Shadow was calling to him; that they were now bound together.

“Yes,” Nate said to him, letting Brad know that whatever he was feeling was true and not a trick his mind was playing on him.

Brad closed his eyes and let his hand drop, fingers curling around the grip. His voice spoke as if from a trance: “I do not aim with my hand; He who aims with his hand has forgotten the face of his father. I aim with my eye.”

Nate's hand grasped the untouched gun lying in front of him before speaking. "I do not shoot with my hand;
He who shoots with his hand has forgotten the face of his father. I shoot with my mind."

They stared at each other as the final idiom spilled from their lips in unison: "I do not kill with my gun;
He who kills with his gun has forgotten the face of his father. I kill with my heart."

"Well," Ray said, breaking their spell. "Aren't you two all moto."

“These are powerful, Ray,” Nate told him, setting his down and taking Brad’s from his hand before wrapping them once again. “I followed nothing more than whispers in the dark to find these,” his eyes burning into each of them. “The pair is older than any of our worlds and is the only true weapon we have against the things that are sure to hunt us now that we’ve set our destiny in motion.”

“But if those are the only way then why are we here?” Walt asked from beside him, suddenly looking defeated. Nate saw the look of self-doubt creep back in for the first time since they had left Walt's time.

“You’re here; you’re all here because we’re stronger together than any of us are apart. We were all born for this,” Nate said as he tapped his chest. They looked at him skeptically. Nate could see the disbelief on their faces, not believing in themselves even though Nate believed in them so wholly. He sighed and looked at them one by one.

“Brad, you were born to be a machine on the battle field. You could shoot something 200 yards away using nothing but your eyes for sight. You could see me running and shoot me straight through the heart if you needed too. And Ray, you know things none of us could even dream of understanding, and that’s more valuable than anything. And Walt here,” Nate said, reaching to put his hand on Walt’s shoulder. “Walt is special. Along with his great capacity for knowledge, he will make each and every one of us better than before. You can sense true natures and bring them out, can’t you?” Walt nodded slowly.

Brad was the first to speak. “What do we do now? Where will we go?”

Nate was glad for the change of subject. It’d be much easier to show than tell them what they each have buried inside.

“We’re staying here in your time, Brad,” he said. “I’m going to train all of you, both individually and collectively. Then, when it’s time, we’re going to strike out and hell better hope to steer clear of us.”

***

Brad awoke from a dream as he had every night for the past three weeks. In this one they were running through the desert with a red cloud on their heels. Ray fell, his boot getting caught on a root that shouldn’t have been there. Nate reached down and pulled him to his feet in one quick movement, quicker than any human should have been able to do. Brad knew in his dream that none of them could out run this forever; nothing can be out run forever. The ground ahead of them was a drop off. They would have to jump and hope that they wouldn’t die from the fall. He awoke when they pushed off into nothingness.

His dreams always ended like that, a fact that unnerved Brad to no end. Always falling and never getting the upper hand, life at its best apparently.

The room was dark as Brad sat up, his toes digging into the plush carpet. A little over a month before Nate had moved them all into a house together. Brad was familiar with the area they were in; he had been through there a lot, but never noticed the house before. It sat close enough to town where they could get anything they needed at a moments notice, but far enough away so that if something attacked them innocent bystanders wouldn’t be killed. It was a two-story house. The downstairs had all the usual things, a kitchen, living room, bathroom, library, and two bedrooms that Nate and Brad occupied. Upstairs held Ray and Walt’s rooms, another bathroom, and a couple offices. Ray had told Brad when they first got there that he felt like he was living at a hotel now. Brad just felt like he finally had a home again after leaving his so many years before. But he kept that to himself.

Brad stood, stretching his arms above his head. He could feel his bones and muscles expanding and contracting as he worked them. The change to his body was subtle. He felt stronger, more in control of himself, but his appearance wasn’t noticeably altered; not like the others. Ray and Walt had been affected by the training the most. Their bodies were filling out and they looked surer of themselves than ever before. Brad still noticed a tremor in Ray’s hands from time to time as sweat suddenly sprung up along his brow; but he said nothing. There was only so much he could do for someone who didn’t want to change.

The clock on Brad’s bedside table read 5:30 a.m., an hour and a half before he and Nate were to start their usual training. Brad looked around his room, aimlessly pulling on a pair of pajama bottoms before stepping out into the hall, shutting his dreams away.

The kitchen was dark as he made coffee. Brad shivered with warmth as the first sip he took spread throughout his body. In some ways this was always his favorite part of the day; silence, darkness, and a cup of coffee. He walked through the living room, the carpet silencing his footsteps as he crept along. When he pushed open the door to the library there was a faint glow coming from the fireplace still. Brad looked at the books lining the walls, searching for a book Nate had told Brad he thought he should read, The Drawing of Three. Nate had explained that it was one of the old legends surrounding ka-tets, people bound by fate. Brad moved next to the fireplace; finding it stuck on top of a stack of books that looked older than anything Brad had ever seen. He held it gingerly, letting his fingers brush over the worn cover as he turned it in his hands.

A sound caught Brad’s attention from behind. He turned his head to see Nate sleeping in the oversized armchair facing the fire. It struck him how different Nate looked asleep. His face seemed years younger, it was easy to forget that Nate looked younger with his eyes closed; those eyes that looked hundreds of years old.

Brad moved to wake him thinking that Nate should at least get an hour of sleep in his bed and not in a chair. He knelt down so as not to startle Nate and put his hand on his shoulder, shaking him gently. “Nate,” he whispered into the space between then. Nate mumbled something under his breath, still very much asleep, before shifting toward Brad and sliding his own hand up Brad’s arm. Brad froze as he stared at Nate, the feel of his hand sliding up into his hair made him close his eyes. “Brad,” Nate whispered with a soft breath. “Come here.” Brad didn’t hesitate even though it felt wrong to do this while he knew Nate was sleeping. But Nate was warm beneath his hand, and the want in Nate’s voice sunk right to his stomach. Brad leaned forward until their lips met. Nate made a contented sound as he moved his mouth against Brad’s.

As far as kisses go it was chaste, a press and lingering feel of lips against one another. But as Nate released Brad’s neck, smiled, and fell back into his slumber, Brad could feel it everywhere. It burned through him. He straightened up and looked down at Nate. Brad was in trouble and he knew it. Picking up his book and coffee cup, Brad made his way out of the library to somewhere safer, away from Nate’s sleeping form and the memory of the touch of his lips.

An hour later Brad had no idea what the book was about. But he did know that he would go crazy if he didn’t get the opportunity to kiss Nate Fick until they were both breathless. He could picture it in his head. He would back Nate up against the wall of the library; Nate would let his mouth drop open, his tongue sliding out to wet his bottom lip. Brad would watch his tongue knowing that in a few moments it would be his. Then Brad would slide up against Nate, picking him up just enough off the floor so Nate would only be comfortable with his legs hooked around Brad’s hips. They would both gasp as they slammed against the bookshelf before their mouths closed on one another. Brad could already feel the sensation of Nate’s tongue gliding along his, and the way Nate would helplessly thrust his hips forward against Brad. Brad’s hands would fall to Nate’s ass, cradling him in such a way that they would be lined up perfectly. He envisioned the noises Nate would make as he sucked on his neck, a scrape of his teeth followed by his tongue, causing Nate to writhe in his arms. The way Nate would grab his hair and pull his mouth back to his own, their tongues dancing an endless waltz together until neither of them could take it anymore. Brad could feel it all.

A knock on his door brought his mind back to the present. “Yes?” he said, folding the book onto his lap.

Nate popped his head in, smiling. “Morning, Brad.”

Brad had to work to keep his face from flushing. “Nate,” he said with a nod. “Sleep well?”

“Yes. It was very…peaceful,” he said, a small smile breaking on his lips. Those lips.

“So,” Brad said, “What do you have in store for me today?”

Nate smiled a wicked smile before shrugging. “You’ll just have to wait and see. Meet me in the kitchen in twenty,” he said before closing the door behind him.

Brad exhaled hard. He set the book on his table, closed his eyes, and let his hand drift underneath the sheet.

*

By the time Brad got down to the kitchen Nate and Walt were sitting at the table eating breakfast. Nate's hair was a little damp like he had just gotten out of the shower, a thought that Brad did not need to dwell on.

"Morning Brad," Walt said with a mouthful of toast.

"Hey Walt," he said, pulling out the chair to sit across from Nate. As he reached forward to grab a piece of toast off the plate in the middle of the table Walt moved as well, their hands grazing each other. Brad thought nothing of it, but Walt coughed, choking on his food. He drained his glass of water, looking wide-eyed at Brad. Shit, Brad thought as he tried to remain calm. Walt could feel it, the feelings about Nate bubbling right underneath Brad's surface.

"You okay, Walt?" Nate asked, looking up from the newspaper.

"I'm fine; toast is just a little dry."

Nate looked at him for a few more moments before going back to the story he was reading. Brad and Walt looked at each other, both of them willing information across to the other one without words. Walt was creasing his eyebrows and trying to motion with them and his head toward Nate without it being noticeable, while Brad was shaking his head back and forth praying he didn't say anything out loud.

Nate put the paper down on the table, exhaling. "If you guys are about done playing some bizarre game of charades, me and Brad need to go," he said causing Brad to look more uncomfortable than he's probably ever been and Walt to have another coughing fit. Nate rolled his eyes at them as he stood to put his dishes in the sink. Walt looked from Nate to Brad before smiling. "Good luck," he laughed as he made his way to the library, leaving the two of them alone.

"Shall we?" Nate asked.

*

Each morning Brad and Nate would go out to a stretch of land Nate owned and practice shooting. They used shotguns, pistols, crossbows, and any kind of rifle imaginable; but mostly they focused on the rosewood revolvers. Brad often wondered how Nate found enough hours in the day to do everything as he trained with him in the morning hours, and then worked with Walt and Ray until well into the night sometimes.

Their sessions had started off simple. Nate would set up a row of cans and Brad would shoot them as Nate watched him. He would walk up and adjust Brad’s arm or his grip on the gun and tell him to try again. Nate changed the distance away from his targets every day so Brad wouldn’t get comfortable with them. Still, nine times out of ten Brad would make his target.

He sat silently as Nate drove them out to the range. Nate’s radio played some crap song that Brad tried not to like as they traveled down the dirt road. There wasn’t anything out here other than hills and valleys, not a single house in sight. Nate stopped underneath the Oak he always parked by. Brad had asked him why he always parked in the same exact spot when there’s nothing for miles. Nate had just told him that he liked this tree and left it at that.

As Brad got out of the Jeep, Nate came around the front and threw something small and black at him.

“What’s this?” he asked, holding up the thin piece of fabric.

“A blindfold.”

Brad looked down at it, turning it over in his hands. “This is a little kinky for the range don’t you think, sir?”

Nate rolled his eyes at him before striding out to set up the targets. Brad watched him moving about, contemplating where to place the targets, moving, thinking, moving. He could see his muscles flexing underneath his clothes. Sometimes Brad thought he looked like a leopard.

With the targets in place Nate walked back over to Brad, coming to a stop directly next to him. He began to speak in a low voice.

“Look at each of them, Brad. Memorize what they are: the person, the can, the tire, a bird. Are you doing that?”

“Yes,” Brad answered as his eyes moved over the course laid out in front of him. Each of the four objects was at varying distances away from both him and each other. Two of them looked nearly on top of each other from this angle, but Brad could tell they were probably about thirty yards apart. He closed his eyes, picturing the whole scene in his mind’s eye. Brad took two deep breathes before opening his eyes again, re-evaluating the scene. He felt the weight of the revolver in his hand and envisioned himself hitting each target.

When he knew he could do it he turned to Nate and nodded at him. Nate moved behind him, draping the blindfold over his eyes before tying it securely around his head. “You don’t need your hand to kill, Brad. You don’t aim with your hand,” Nate spoke slowly from behind him.

“I aim with my eye,” Brad answered.

“You don’t need to see Brad, you’ve already seen it. View it in your mind’s eye and shoot. How do you shoot, Brad?”

“I shoot with my mind,” he answered.

“I kill with my heart,” they both said in unison.

Brad breathed out, steeling the gun in his hand. He felt Nate move in front of him, close, impossibly close. “Can you see me?” he said, his breath ghosting over Brad’s face.

“No, but I can feel you,” he said.

“I should hope so,” Nate joked as he stepped back. “Whenever you’re ready.”

Brad brought everything back to the front of his mind; it was as if he had his eyes open. He could see it all, the way the targets stood there just waiting for him to acknowledge their presence. He widened his stance, before raising the gun.

The shots rang out into the morning, cutting off the robin’s song. Shoot, adjust, shoot, shoot, drop down, shoot.

He stood tearing off his blindfold and froze on the spot, the black fabric falling from his hand. Nate stood dead center of the targets, watching Brad like he was at a baseball game. His hands were resting on his hips as he looked at him, smiling and nodding. Brad stalked towards him.

“What the fuck are you doing, Nate?!” He yelled. “I could have shot you!”

“But you didn’t.”

“But what if I had!” Brad was angry; angrier than he’d been in a long time.

“Well,” Nate said, moving his arms as if it didn’t matter. “I would have called Doc Bryan to come patch me up and we would’ve tried again a different day.”

“This isn’t funny, Nate.” Brad’s face was getting red, he could feel it. He stood there only a couple feet away from Nate. He wanted to punch him, push him to the ground, or kiss him. He didn’t know which and it was making him even redder.

“Brad,” Nate said. “You had to do this. If I had told you I was out here would you have shot?”

“NO!” Brad yelled.

“Stop yelling Brad,” Nate ordered him, his voice dropping. “Both of us had to know that you could hit anything no matter what was in your way…whether you knew it was there or not. This is only the beginning, Brad. If you can’t handle this….”

“But…”

“No buts. Okay?”

Silence.

“Okay, Brad?” Nate said more forceful.

“Okay,” Brad finally said, doing his damndest to stamp down his emotions.

Nate’s hand reached out, grasping Brad on the arm. “It’s okay to be mad. But learn to use it; you can’t let it control you.”

Brad closed his eyes, forcing his breathing to go back down to normal. He understood why Nate had done it, but that didn’t stamp out the worry he felt. He didn’t know what he would’ve done if he had missed and killed Nate. Brad couldn’t fathom having to tell Ray and Walt, or having to go back to his old life. When he opened his eyes again he was calm, the storm he knew had been in his eyes was gone. Nate smiled his small crooked smile at him before bending down to pick up a small box of rocks he had hidden behind the tire.

“Now,” he said as he threw one of them up into the air. “Shoot.”

*

Four hours later they were headed back and Brad was still frustrated with Nate, and he could sense Nate’s ever growing annoyance with him for not letting this go.

Nate sighed as he turned off the car in front of their house. “Are you going to be mad at me all day?”

Brad couldn’t help but smile at the way he said it. He turned his head toward Nate, arching an eyebrow. “If you’re going to keep pulling stunts like that I am.” Brad knew he had no real reason to be angry still, but real reasons didn’t matter to him at the moment. The idea that Nate would place himself in harm’s way like that was what was gnawing at his insides. That he could’ve inadvertently killed him was not something he would easily forget.

“You’re impossible,” Nate told him as they entered the front door.

The smell of lunch made Brad realize that he hadn’t eaten anything except for a bite of toast hours before. In the kitchen, they found Ray making spaghetti and garlic bread. Sauce was everywhere, but it smelled so delicious that Brad didn’t care how much of a mess he had to look at while eating.

“Hey,” Ray said as they walked in, plopping down in the chairs. “I hope you don’t mind. I got hungry and this was all we had, so deal with it, we’re having spaghetti for lunch.”

“No one’s complaining, Ray.” Nate smiled at him with a shake of his head. “Though you are going to have to clean the sauce off the ceiling when we’re done.”

Brad looked up noticing red blotches randomly sprinkling the ceiling. “How did you…?” he started but was cut off by Walt as he walked up behind them.

“Whoa,” he said, grasping the backs of both Brad and Nate’s chairs. “Have a bad session today, Brad?” he said with a wink. “It’s not quite the love fest it was this morning,” he said, stopping suddenly when they all looked at him.

Brad wanted to kill him.

“So…,” Walt tried to backtrack. “I’m just going to start keeping more things to myself.” He went to the stove and started stirring the noodles, pointedly not looking at anybody.

Brad glanced at Nate, a bizarre expression resting in his eyes, like a dream. Right then Brad wanted to tell him, wanted him to understand why he was acting like this, but he couldn’t. Nate’s eyes met his with a tilt of his head and Brad could swear he saw it all there between them.

Naturally Ray chose that moment to begin singing at the top of his lungs as he set the bread on the table. A blush rose on Nate’s cheeks as he cast his eyes down. Brad felt the urge to reach his hand out, but he couldn’t. He chose instead to slide down in his chair and let his foot hit Nate’s. When their eyes met this time it was different, as if they each knew something about the other that they had only assumed before.

“Dig in,” Ray said, sitting down next to Brad and plopping a heaping pile of spaghetti onto his plate.

Brad turned his attention to his food, never moving his foot.

*

After, when Nate and Walt had retired to the library, Brad found himself standing on a chair wiping red sauce from the ceiling fan. Ray had tried to get it, but even standing on the table he couldn’t reach.

“Why don’t you just admit you’re hot for teacher,” Ray said from below. He was sitting on the table at Brad’s feet watching him work.

“Shut up, Ray.”

“No seriously, dude. I’m not judging you. I saw him swimming the other day and almost got a halfie. I swear. I’d go gay for him faster than if Rob Lowe was standing there naked eating a steak.”

Brad stopped what he was doing and squatted down. “That doesn’t make any sense. Were you dropped on your head as a child?”

Ray just beamed at him, picking up a handful of plain noodles and shoving them in his mouth.

*

A few days later things went back to normal. All of them in their regular training schedules, becoming warriors as Nate put it. And Brad, he had to admit, was starting to get bored. He needed a change of scenery, something new to challenge him; and something, anything, to take his mind off Nate. And then it hit him: the test. Nate had told him that he had passed some sort of challenge and would be starting something new. But why hadn’t he yet? If Brad had it his way they would go out into this spot in the desert he knew and work out there. The desert had always called to Brad like nothing else ever had. It was vast and bright and like nothing Brad could have fathomed if he hadn’t seen it himself.

But then, why couldn’t Brad make a decision for his training. He stood from his chair, determined to get this done. It was nearly 11:30 p.m., but he knew Nate would be up. It took him only seconds to get from his room to Nate’s. The door was closed, but Brad could see the light coming out from underneath it.

“Nate,” he said as he knocked and entered; not waiting for an answer.

Fuck.

Nate was sitting on the bed, naked, his legs open in front of him. Walt was kneeling there, his mouth snug around him, moving up and down, groaning as he took in more and more of Nate. Brad couldn’t help but palm himself through his pants. Goddamn, he thought. Nate looked up at him with half lidded eyes and smiled. “Care to join us Brad?”

He took a step forward, his hand now finding its way underneath the band of his pants. Walt raised his head with an obscene pop. “Yeah Brad, come train with us. We’re training real hard.”

Brad shot up in his bed, his breath coming fast. "Shit," he said out loud as he fell back down onto his pillow. Brad laid there praying for his dreams about falling into the deep unknown abyss to come back, anything other than what was just happening in his subconscious. He closed his eyes and breathed in and out slowly, reaching for his glass of water. Empty. Brad glared at the glass before he threw off his covers.

The hallway was cold as he quietly padded toward the kitchen.

The water felt cool as it poured down his throat, chilling the heat that had been burning in him. He refilled his glass, turning back when he noticed the light on underneath Nate's door. Brad froze, his knuckles white around his water. He walked up to the frame, took a breath, and knocked.

"Yes?" Nate called from inside.

Brad pushed the door open slowly, and peeking his head in just a crack. He was glad he had a glass of water because his mouth went dry at the sight of Nate.

Nate was sitting cross legged on his bed. He was wearing a pair of black sweatpants, no shirt, glasses, and had one of the revolvers dismantled on a towel in front of him. He watched Brad as his fingers, dirty and slick from working the gun, moved expertly over the pieces. Nate motioned Brad in.

"Can't sleep?" Nate asked.

Brad shook his head back and forth, not trusting the things that might come out of his mouth.

"I don't sleep much either," Nate said, letting the weariness show. "There's too much to do, and I just want to make sure everyone is prepared."

Brad sat down at the foot of his bed, careful not to disturb the carefully laid out pieces. "It'll be fine. We'll be fine, Nate."

Nate bit at his lip, fixing Brad with a look he couldn't define before pushing up his glasses and looking back at what he held in his hands. "Was there something you needed?"

There wasn't, but Brad didn't want to tell him that. He was curious about the training though, so he went with that.

"I was thinking maybe we could train somewhere different? Maybe out in the desert."

The green eyes that were looking at him calmly twitched, his head tilting. "Does the desert call to you? Like how the seas call to world travelers?"

"Like a bright and vast unknown that holds my life," Brad told him in a hushed voice, scooting back against the wall so that he was sitting propped up next to Nate.

"It's all inside of you Brad," Nate said. "I bet you could fly if you wanted to."

Brad smiled at that; a small private smile that was only fit for late night hours.

"Do you have an idea of where you'd like to go?" Nate asked as he slipped the final pieces of the weapon back together, quietly praising its beauty underneath his breath.

"Yeah, it's about eighty miles out of town," Brad said. "Heading east."

Nate nodded before going up on his knees. He placed a hand on Brad's thigh as he leaned over and grabbed a map book off of the floor. Brad could feel the heat from his hand burn through his pajama bottoms; his hand print burned there forever. His muscles tensed and he felt his breath catch. Nate sat back, his hand sliding up a couple inches higher as he settled back down, a smile playing on his lips.

"Show me."

*

Twenty minutes on the road had Brad thinking this wasn’t the greatest idea he’d ever had.

Nate held on to him on the back of his bike as they sped out into the desert. Brad reveled in the feel of Nate wrapped around the back of his body - reminding him of the feel of Nate on top of him after the earlier attack. He felt the way Nate’s hands tightened and released along his torso, and how he pressed himself further against him. Brad let himself lean back into Nate a little - giving in even though he knew he shouldn’t get involved, not when his world was at stake.

They stopped an hour and a half later with nothing around them but open space and fresh air. Brad didn't have much planned other than shooting exercises, and maybe some hand to hand combat. So that's what they did.

Brad shot in different scenarios - with Nate standing directly in front of him, with a blindfold again, lying down, squatting down on his haunches, running, diving, anything and everything the two of them could think of. And it was fun.

Both of them were leaning against Brad's bike when Nate asked Brad what they were going to do now.

"Hand to hand," Brad told him without missing a beat.

"Okay," Nate said as he pushed off the bike stretching a little. "Catch me."

Nate took off running at full speed and all Brad could do was stand there for a minute surprised at his reaction. Brad could feel his smile growing as he kicked off after him. The only problem was that Nate was fast and really fucking good at suddenly changing directions. It took Brad longer than he would have liked to finally catch him, and when he did he tackled him to the ground.

They fought, both of them trying to get the upper hand on the other. It went on and on without hesitation or worrying about being too close or holding on for too long. If Brad had him in a hold and smiled down at him for a little too long, or if he wondered whether or not the grunt Nate made when his back his the ground was anything similar to what he might sound like during sex, nobody was there to know.

The two of them stood side-by-side in the grass afterward, each trying to catch their breath.

Brad was staring at Nate, their faces flushed. He liked Nate like this, relaxed, smiling, open. He thought about those early days parked out underneath the tree by their house; both of them staying an easy distance away from one another.

“Why do you like trees so much?” Brad asked, seemingly out of nowhere.

Nate kept his eyes trained on Brad, un-phased by the odd change of subject. “They’re a rarity where I’m from.”

And with that an idea sprung into Brad’s head. He suddenly began picking up everything of theirs that lay strewn around on the ground. Nate watched him toss everything into his backpack before walking behind him and sliding it onto Nate's shoulders. The weight of it pulled at the top of Nate’s shirt revealing a pale strip of neck. But Nate remained where he was as a helmet was tossed his way.

“Let’s go, Fick,” Brad said, settling down onto his bike.

“And where are we going?” Nate asked as he slid the helmet onto his head, showing no signs of putting up a fight with this change of plan.

“You’ll see.”

This time when Nate climbed on the bike he was closer; not just his hands and arms touching, but his whole body. The space between his legs filled with Brad so that nothing but fabric and the smallest amounts of air remained. With the start of the engine, the bike rumbled and vibrated underneath them, and Brad could feel Nate’s hips shift forward. He let his eyes close, taking a deep breath before lifting his feet and pulling back out onto the road.

Neither of them tried to speak to the other as they rode. The bike sailed through the desert until the sand turned to dirt, and the dirt turned to grass. It went on until they were stopped underneath the oldest tree Brad had ever seen. He remembered passing by it years ago; the sheer girth of it frightened him. The secrets and stories it was sure to hold practically radiated out like rays of the sun. But Nate, Nate showed no fear. He stopped next to Brad, staring in awe at the leaves, some of them as big as his head.

They stood there and watched the light dance through the leaves as the wind blew the branches. Brad was transfixed by Nate as he circled it, his hand running along the bark. His eyes matched the green of the leaves, making him appear as if he had always been there underneath that tree, waiting for someone to come. Brad stepped closer, drawn in.

"Thank you," Nate whispered as he rested a hand upon the tree, staring up into the sky.

Brad moved even closer, raising his hand slowly and resting it at Nate's hip. "You're welcome, Nate."

In the end that was all it took.

Nate leaned back against him and breathed deep. Brad moved his hand further around until it was resting on Nate’s stomach, doing nothing more than holding them together. He watched Nate's chest move up and down as he took in air, trapping it for a moment in his chest. A breath that was exhaled as he leaned his head back against Brad's shoulder let all the tension out of his body. "Nate," Brad breathed out, seeing the ruff of Nate's hair flutter from his breath.

The movement was felt along Brad's palm before he saw Nate turning; his t-shirt rucking up where Brad's hand had trailed around him. The air between them was thick as Brad brought both hands to Nate's waist, holding him there. Nate's tongue swiped along his bottom lip a second before his hands tentatively came to rest on Brad's arms, grasping at the shirt there. Then closer. Their foreheads touched as they backed toward the tree; two feet away, one foot away, and then Nate's back was pressed against the trunk and Brad was against him. They didn't speak, they didn't kiss, they simply stood there pressed to one another. Brad let his mouth ghost over Nate's and along his cheek as he slipped a hand underneath the back of Nate's shirt. The burn of skin against skin made Brad push them harder against the tree. When Nate grabbed the back of Brad's neck and shifted his hips forward, nothing else mattered anymore. Their breath shuddered as Nate led Brad's mouth back to his own, yet they still didn't kiss. They closed their eyes, breathing each other’s air.

*

Night fell as Brad drove them back to civilization. He felt so sure in that moment that what he was doing was right; what they were all doing was right.

Nothing cleared Brad’s head like his bike and the night air. But Nate Fick plastered to the back of him was another thing entirely.

He turned left towards town, stopping at a bar on the outskirts.

"I've got too much desert in my mouth," Brad said as he climbed off the bike.

The bar was quiet and nearly deserted when they entered. There was a couple kissing in the corner. Brad watched them as the man's hand stroked up her thigh. His mind flashed to not two hours before when he had been so close to Nate; touching him like he had wanted to for weeks. Nate was still warm beside him as they made their way further in.

"Brad," the bartender smiled. "Haven't seen you 'round in a good while. Whatcha been up to?"

Both Brad and Nate slid onto seats at the bar, their legs grazing as they settled.

"Just traveling like always," Brad told him nonchalantly as he ordered two glasses of whiskey.

They sat there quietly with their drinks, neither of them speaking or really looking at the other. That's not to say there wasn't a thousand volts of electricity shooting between them. Brad thought that maybe he was on fire from just sitting next to the man.

"I thought I told you to think twice before coming back here," a voice sounded from the right.

Craig, Brad thought with an annoyed sigh as he finished his drink.

"I did think twice," Brad said, turning just his head to look at him. "But good whiskey always wins out over assholes."

An elbow in his side let Brad know that Nate was still there, probably disapproving. Brad sighed, swiveling to face Craig. He looked different to Brad now, shallower.

"We just stopped for a drink, Craig," Brad said calmly.

"We?" Craig asked, not noticing Nate hidden beside him.

Nate leaned back in his seat, nodding at Craig, whose eyes narrowed at the site of him. Craig twitched, his eyes growing wide as he stared back at Nate.

"You," Craig growled, pointing at Nate. "You took something from me."

Brad turned to Nate seeing nothing but a cold mask on his face. "Nate?" he asked quietly, but was ignored.

"They weren't yours to begin with," Nate said, his voice clipped.

The twitching coming from Craig was intensifying, as his bones cracked. Brad stood and moved back so he was standing next to Nate, still sitting defiantly on the stool. Nate never broke eye contact as he whispered "ostendo sum," under his breath. Brad had no idea what it meant, but watched as Craig's skin began to roil as his mouth opened.

Nate finally stood, acknowledging Brad for the first time since this had started. "We're going to have to run," he whispered as a loud cracking noise broke echoing around them. Brad watched with a mixture of horror and amazement as Craig's body peeled away from itself. His mouth looked unhinged like that of a great snake, his skin and muscles oozing down to the ground as a black fog expelled from its encasing.

A Shadow.

He felt Nate grab his arm and that was it. They turned just as the final crack of his spine sounded and the room went dark. Brad knew that Nate would be right there beside him as he tore out of the building and down the road. The night was dead silent save for the sound of their feet hitting the ground and the whoosh of the air around them as the Shadow lost and gained ground on them. Fuck, Brad thought as the distance between them began to close at a steadier rate.

"Water," Nate yelled as they turned down a side street. "We need to get in some water."

Brad's eyes scanned the area. He knew there was a pool near here, but where? Letting everything go he focused his mind and suddenly he knew exactly where they need to go.

"A left, straight for two blocks, and a right," Brad whispered hurriedly as the air grew colder around them. Their breath was coming faster and faster as they ran; nothing in their way, but death at their heels.

"There!" Brad yelled when they turned.

The pool was half covered with a hardcover, but was still filled with water. Brad could see it shining in the moonlight. Their pace quickened as they hopped the fence, covering the final meter before plunging into the icy water. Brad felt as if all his senses disappeared in that moment, he knew nothing and no one until he felt Nate's hand grabbing his arm and tugging him underneath the cover. The muffled cry of the Shadow met his ears just as his head rose above the water level. Still, he could see nothing.

"Brad," Nate's voice was close. "Are you okay?"

He was, but that wasn't what mattered at the moment.

"What the fuck was that, Nate?!" he struggled to keep his voice down. "Craig-fucking-Schwetji just turned into a Shadow that you apparently stole something from. Jesus Christ, I’ve known him for years." He gargled as he sunk in the water. When he reached out to grab the side of the pool his body pulled flush against Nate's, who was apparently directly in front of him.

"Brad," Nate said slowly as Brad's voice rose. "You need to calm down."

Just then a loud thud hit the cover - it was trying to get them from above. Brad closed his eyes and took a deep breath. When he opened them he could see clearer, his eyes finally adjusting to the dark. His eyes fixed directly on Nate's, their green seeming even brighter at night the way they always did.

“He’s the one who was guarding the rosewood revolvers,” Nate told him quietly.

Brad’s hand instinctively went to his side where the gun was kept most days. This whole situation was turning out to be a more tangled web than he knew. Nate explained to him that most likely Craig had been waiting, watching to see if Brad would ever begin down the path his destiny held. And then when he showed up with Nate, a man who took something invaluable from him, confirmed everything he had been waiting for. “Ostendo sum makes them show themselves,” Nate said as he finished speaking. “It sort of reveals their true selves.”

“But why are we in a pool?” Brad asked.

"We're in the pool," Nate started, "because they hate water and there was no way we'd out run it."

Brad started to object.

"Not even on your bike," Nate finished, a smile tugging at his lips.

"So what do we do now?" Brad asked as he firmed his grip on the poolside behind Nate.

"We wait."

An hour later there wasn't a sound to be heard. Nothing touched their ears but the lapping of the water against the wall mingled with the steady sound of their breaths. They had both relaxed, their bodies swaying closer and further with the movement of the water. It was hypnotizing. Brad watched as Nate's eyes would close for minutes at a time, his breathing would slow. It was times like these that made Nate seem even more of a puzzle to him.

"Why are you doing this?" Brad asked, speaking for the first time in at least forty-five minutes.

Nate looked at him with something akin to sadness in his eyes. "If I don't, this will end. You will end. You'd already be gone... you all would."

Brad let the water push him up against Nate, their sodden clothes attempting to anchor them down to the bottom. He grasped Nate's side with his hand, holding him firmly.

"Thank you," was all he said as he moved forward and slowly pressed his lips against Nate's. His lips were colder than they were the last time they had met in the library - but nothing compared to having Nate awake and his mouth pliant under his own. Brad pressed them up against the side of the pool, holding the bottom of the ladder with both his hands as he trapped Nate between himself and the edge.

Without hesitating Nate turned his head and deepened the kiss, his hands snaking up to grab the back of Brad's head. Brad heard himself groan audibly as he slid his tongue along Nate's; the two of them kissing slowly, exploring, learning each other. "Brad," Nate whispered as he pulled his legs up, wrapping them around Brad's hips. The sensation made him shake. He could feel Nate's entire body against his, the hard lines of his muscles pressing and playing against Brad's own. Their kiss intensified as Nate bit at Brad's bottom lip, tugging it through his teeth. Their hips flexed against each other simultaneously, both of them tightening their hold on one another.

They stayed like that, kissing, thrusting against each other through their soaking wet clothes, trapped in pitch darkness together. Brad felt it when Nate came, his breath caught and Brad moved to lick down the line of his neck, tasting the chlorine there. It wasn't until Nate laid his head on Brad's shoulder and whispered, "Let go, Brad," that he allowed himself to release, biting down on Nate's shoulder.

*

Eventually they left the pool, dragging their weighed down bodies back to Brad's bike. And for a few moments life wasn't as complicated.

But a few moments are all a person can get in life, for as they pulled up to the house the sound of Ray screaming broke any peace there was.




Part 3