Fic for cerealkiller0 Part 4
Recipient: cerealkiller0
Author: TBA
Disclaimer: Author doesn't own the show or the characters and isn't making any profit.
Title: Theory and Application (Part 4)
Pairing: Don/Colby; Don/Ian; Don/Colby/Ian; a 'blink and you'll miss it' mention of past Don/Ian/OMC
Rating: NC-17
Warnings: None
Summary: Solving bank robberies, tracking down fugitives, sleeping with a member of his team - it’s all in a day’s work for Don Eppes. So a visit from an old friend shouldn’t change anything, right?
Author's Note: A huge thanks you to my beta for her clear-sightedness and enthusiastic encouragement throughout the writing of this.
********
Colby was back to trawling through video footage next morning. Charlie’s new refinements had given them a tighter search area and, should they still fail to find Marriott within that zone, Charlie had also, in an apparently sophisticated application of some mathematical theorem that Colby had, not surprisingly, never heard of, reduced the number of probable targets to single digits for the next robbery, meaning stakeouts would be viable. That much Colby had gathered from Charlie’s excited conversation on his arrival in the bullpen before Don took him and Ian into the war room, where the closed door slightly muted the sounds of a math genius in full flow.
He found himself watching them for a few minutes, even though he had more than enough of his own work to be doing. It didn’t escape his notice that Don and Ian had unconsciously adopted the same stance as they listened to Charlie’s enthusiastic exposition. They were leaning apparently casually against adjoining tables, arms crossed and heads slightly cocked, each betraying a certain predatory intent as they focused intensely on what Charlie was saying. Although they’d just exchanged glances at something Charlie had said, sharing an unspoken amusement, it didn’t disrupt their concentration for an instant, each of them capable of assimilating a mass of information and almost instantly identifying and shaping into new patterns the pertinent points. It really should be no surprise to anybody that they would turn out to match one another in all areas of their lives.
Colby mentally shook himself and got back to what he was supposed to be doing. He knew he had things to think about and some personal decisions to make, but
right now his focus should be on getting the job done and Marriott and his crew behind bars. His lips compressed as he pored with grim concentration over the grainy CCTV footage, determined to find something, some clue in what was in front of him, that would give him that elusive missing piece.
********
Despite the fact it was early on a Monday morning, Nikki could hardly contain her sense of excitement and achievement. It had taken both time and determination, working through so many prison visit records - and who would have thought a man with the apparent social skills of Rod Marriott would attract so many visitors - and then confirming not just the real identity of each visitor but what linked them to Marriott. The lack of a father’s name on the birth certificate hadn’t helped either, but she’d finally managed to put it altogether. This was it, this was the thing that would take them to Marriott’s front door. She burst into the war room where Don was talking to Charlie and Agent Sexy.
“Marriott’s got a daughter that no-one knew about,” she announced. “She lives in LA.”
Don’s slight frown at her excited entry changed to one of concentration as he shot questions at her, and by the time it was ascertained that the daughter not only lived in LA but that her address was in the area identified by Charlie as being where Marriott was currently based, it was all systems go.
********
David whistled slightly as they drew up a little distance from the daughter’s house. “Who says crime doesn’t pay?”
“I want to know how come I’m the only person in LA who doesn’t get their own pool,” Colby grumbled.
They joined the rest of the team, Don tasking them to take the back while he and the others went in through the front, with LAPD holding the perimeter. Edgerton was already gone, doubtless finding high ground somewhere. David found it reassuring to know he would be covering them; he’d never had quite the same trust in SWAT since they’d almost him killed him in that elevator.
He followed Colby in through the back door and almost instantly got the feeling that the place was empty. It was an intuition he never gave any weight to until the fact was verified, just in case, but one which he’d honed over the years. Somewhere that was truly empty always felt different from somewhere people were hiding.
Having ensured the house was clear, they regrouped in the kitchen where there were signs of recent occupancy in the guise of a gold-banded porcelain cup of lukewarm coffee on the polished granite island, with a matching plate boasting a selection of petits fours. It seemed a pretty safe bet to David that Marriott wouldn’t be in a hurry to return to the prison lifestyle any time soon.
They’d obviously been spotted on their approach. As nobody had gotten past LAPD’s perimeter, whoever that cup belonged to had to be somewhere in the collection of outhouses - pool house, tool shed, garage - that littered the substantial property.
That in turn meant increased risk; there were areas of cover, but areas too that were wide open. The garage was a slam dunk, with exquisitely manicured privet hedges providing cover right up to the doors, but anybody approaching the pool house would have to cross several yards of travertine patio, where lead planters containing a selection of brightly-coloured flowers provided no cover worthy of the name. David could see Don weighing up the risks, right about the time Colby devoured the last of the petits fours with an expression of pure bliss on his face. Maybe Colby should get a place with a pool; it looked like he’d be needing to take more exercise in the
near future if he was still going to fit into his tac vest.
David wondered if they’d be stood down till SWAT got there, but then Don spoke to Edgerton and found he had a good vantage point of the back yard.
They went in.
********
Don knew it was an exposed approach, but he had no other choice. The garage had been clear; the tool shed too. Between Edgerton’s birds’ eye view and the rest of the team, they’d searched the yard pretty thoroughly. The only place left was the pool house, standing in splendid isolation without a hint of cover in sight. And without a hint of life currently showing through the windows, according to Edgerton. But it was the only place left, and there was only one way to get close enough.
Don was almost halfway across the open ground, running fast but careful, bent to
provide the smallest possible target while the others laid down a withering curtain of fire at the pool house to cover his approach, when without warning it felt like an eighteen-wheeler slammed into his chest. And then another one. The blows knocked him off-balance, throwing all his weight onto his right leg which suddenly buckled under him. He was aware he was going down completely out of control with the corner of one of those planters coming up at him damn fast, and then nothing.
********
Colby was close to wearing a hole in the floor of the hospital waiting area by the time Ian got there. He thought it was probably only the fact he was still in his tac vest with his gun shoved in his waistband that had stopped anybody approaching him and asking him to sit down and stop disturbing the other distressed people, please, sir.
It was supposed to have been a routine extraction. He knew better than to believe any operation was really routine but he hadn’t been prepared to see Don go down in a burst of gunfire and lie there unmoving except for the blood trickling down his face and a slowly-growing blood stain on the right leg of his jeans.
He rubbed his hand fretfully against his mouth, trying to banish the pictures, remembering instead the way Don had been conscious, though vague and confused, when they’d loaded him into the ambulance. There’d been no sense of muted panic from the medics, which he knew should reassure him. But even if it was just a bang on the head from that fucking oversized flowerpot, these things could develop; people could be conscious and talking one minute and - yeah, and he was not going to go down that road because the family huddled together in the corner, sobbing quietly, probably did not deserve for him to start doing something really dumb like shooting something. Or someone. It was a fucking shame Edgerton was such a good shot; Colby would like nothing better than to look into Marriott’s eyes and pull the trigger himself.
He turned as the doors opened, and Edgerton strode in.
“No news yet,” Colby said quickly, “but he was conscious most of the ride in. They’re going to x-ray and do a scan, but seem to think it’s not too serious.” And he sounded like a babbling optimistic fool, but anything to try and take that tight look away from around Ian’s eyes.
“His leg?”
“Seems like it’s a fairly clean through and through.”
“Thank fuck,” Ian said.
“Yeah,” Colby agreed.
With Ian there he didn’t go back to his pacing but was too wired to sit down. The adrenaline come-down from any fire fight was tough; this one, with nowhere to let it go, was making him twitchy on the inside and he knew if somebody said the wrong thing at the wrong time he might not be responsible for his actions.
Thankfully the doctor who came out to see them later was businesslike, getting straight to the point. Apparently Don had a grade three concussion and they wanted to keep him overnight to monitor him, but the bullet wound had been relatively minor and had been dealt with already.
“Give it another ten minutes,” she concluded. “We’re getting him settled. Reception will tell you which room he’s in.”
As she went, leaving an air of brusque efficiency in her wake, Colby sat down in the nearest chair and rubbed his hands over his face. He was aware of Ian’s hand briefly on his shoulder, but then the doors opened and he looked up to find Alan and Charlie hurrying in. Charlie looked wide-eyed and pale, and Alan… Alan looked so diminished that Colby barely recognised him. Getting quickly to his feet, Colby met them halfway.
“He’s fine,” he said, putting his hand on Alan’s bowed shoulder. “The doc says she wants to keep him overnight just to keep an eye on him because he’s got a doozy of a concussion, but he’s going to be okay.”
“David said he was shot.” Charlie was practically bursting out of his skin with anxiety, hardly able to keep still.
“He’s fine, Charlie. He got nicked by a bullet but it hasn’t done any real damage.”
Colby had kept his hand on Alan’s shoulder, and he could feel the change in the man as he drew himself together.
“Thank you, Colby,” he said, and Colby let his hand fall away. “Have you caught whoever was responsible?”
Colby nodded towards Ian who’d hung back, presumably to give them some privacy. “Edgerton took care of it,” was all he said, but that’s all he needed to say.
Alan nodded over towards Ian, before looking back at Charlie.
“Let’s go see your brother,” he said and followed in Charlie’s unpredictable wake as in his anxiety and eagerness he practically skittered down the corridor to the Reception desk.
Ian raised his eyebrows as Colby joined him. “Well,” he said, “That’s the last bit of peace Don’s going to be getting for a while.”
Colby looked at his watch. “Guess I should get back to the office before too much longer.”
“Reckon so,” Ian said.
They stood there.
“You want to get a coffee or something?” Colby asked eventually.
They ended up in the hospital cafeteria, Colby having first called David to let him know Don’s status. Their desultory talk about the menu (terrible), the coffee (even worse), and the prices (just shocking) was exactly what Colby needed right then. Because Don was fine and it would be melodramatic, to say the least, to think of what might have happened, how they might be sitting somewhere else right now planning his funeral. Well, okay, maybe an hour after the event would have been a bit soon to break out the hymnal and start choosing favourites, but Colby knew what he meant.
He realised after a while that Ian was snapping his fingers in front of his face.
“Granger, you in there?” he asked.
“Uh, yeah.” Colby took a swig from his coffee to find it was completely cold and even more revolting than it had been when hot.
“Good job back there.”
Colby met Ian’s steady gaze and nodded slightly. “I knew you had us covered.”
And then the lady from the till - Jeanette, her name badge said - came to clear their cups away. It seemed like even here there were unwritten rules about the length of time anyone could table-hog.
“You reckon the Eppes invasion is over yet?” Ian asked.
Colby grinned slightly. “Depends on how much hyper math geek the nurses can cope with. You want to find out?”
They headed up towards Don’s room, but Ian’s cell rang en route and he stopped to take the call, waving to Colby to continue.
The nurses’ patience had presumably been exhausted because Colby found Don alone in the room. His eyes were closed and he was lying still, looking disconcertingly small in the bed, with bruising showing around the stitches that held the wound in his forehead together.
Colby moved quietly to sit in the chair beside the bed. He knew the rules, knew they were to all intents and purposes no more than colleagues, but he could sit and just be there. It was what a colleague would do; it was what Megan had done for him that first day after the freighter when nobody was supposed to touch him because of the drugs. He knew he’d found it comforting in his brief moments of clarity. He didn’t think Don Eppes would need comforting but Colby didn’t care. It was enough to sit there watching Don’s chest rise and fall, knowing that for each breath he drew, one more would follow.
He became aware of another presence after a while and looked up to find Ian leaning against the doorjamb, watching them. He looked like he might have been there some time.
“You want a seat?” Hooking his foot around the leg of the chair next to him, Colby dragged it forward in invitation.
“I won’t stay,” Ian said after a moment. “He’s in good hands.”
Colby frowned slightly as he looked at Ian. At some point over the last few days, without Colby realising it, Ian had stopped being Ian Edgerton with all that entailed, and become simply Ian. Now, however, Ian Edgerton was back in full force, with an Agent tacked onto the front of that for good measure. It wasn’t a good look on him to somebody who’d gotten used to seeing Ian.
“I’ll have to go back into the office soon,” Colby said, feeling his way. “You should stay.”
Edgerton looked at him for a long moment, then his gaze flicked over to Don, and Colby saw when he became Ian again.
“See you later,” Colby said, standing up. He looked down at Don for a moment before moving past Ian to the door.
Once outside the front entrance of the hospital, he hesitated. He’d need to take a cab to the office after riding in the ambulance on the way but he wasn’t ready to go back yet. Ignoring the line of cabs waiting hopefully for custom, he sat down on the wall of the raised flowerbed next to the entrance, his elbows propped on his thighs and his hands hanging loosely between his knees as he stared down at the sidewalk.
He couldn’t avoid it any longer. Don might have been kidding last night about the masseur thing - at least Colby hoped he was because he wasn’t sure whether the concept of Masseur Edgerton left him wildly turned on, petrified, or some truly disturbing mixture of the two - but Colby had been certain he wasn’t kidding about wanting Ian to stay. Until he’d seen Don and Ian together, he’d managed to fool himself quite successfully that the thing between him and Don had been more than it actually was. But what was between him and Don was a pale shadow at best of how Don and Ian were. It was pretty clear now that Colby had simply been… And how pathetic was it that he didn’t even know what he had been for Don. A way to pass the time, or a mistake, maybe. Definitely another Mitchell, whoever he might have been - fun for a weekend with Don and Ian and then forgotten.
Once Don was out of hospital, Colby would let him know. He couldn’t quite visualise how that conversation would go - Hey Don, that non-relationship we’re having? Well, don’t worry, we’re not having it any longer - but it was best to give the thing a quick and merciful death.
********
As Colby left, Ian settled into the chair he’d vacated. Stretching his jean-clad legs in front of him, he inspected them for a while. This was not what he’d signed up for, and he still wasn’t quite sure how Colby had talked him out of leaving. It wasn’t often that Ian Edgerton found himself wondering just what in the hell he was doing. It was even less often that he could find no satisfactory answer.
Some time later Don stirred, blinking awake.
“You’ve got to learn to duck, Eppes,” Ian said.
It took Don a moment to focus on him, but then he gave a slight grin. “I knew you had our backs.”
“Always.”
Ian had meant it to be light-hearted if not downright ironic, but as that wasn’t quite how it came out he was relieved that Don seemed less than his usual alert self. Over the next twenty minutes or so he must have asked about five times whether anybody else had been hurt, what had happened to Marriott, and if they had any leads now on his crew. To which the answers were: no; dead finally - once the fucker had broken cover long enough to keep shooting at them through the window, Ian had been able to get a bead on him; and yes.
Once Don started to focus a bit better, he started to grumble that he really didn’t need to be in hospital because of a tiny hole - okay Edgerton, two tiny holes - in his leg and a dent in his skull. The crease between his brows told a different story, though; it seemed he had the sort of ferocious headache that went with the concussion turf.
“D’you want to get some sleep?” Ian asked after a while. “Give your headache time to shift.”
Don moved restlessly in the bed. “Guess so.” But he showed no signs of it. “Hey, did anyone let Dad and Charlie know?”
“They were here earlier and they know you’re okay,” Ian said. “Colby talked your dad down.”
“Colby’s here?”
If Ian were anyone but the compassionate sniper he was, he might feel inclined to tease: Don Eppes looked like a kid on Christmas morning.
“He stayed till he had to go back into the office.”
Soon after, Don fell asleep again.
********
Liz was struggling to concentrate. They still had Marriott’s accomplices to track down, though that should be easy enough now they had his phone, computer, and daughter. Not necessarily in that order.
Try as she might to focus on the screen in front of her, she wasn’t doing a very good job of it. She’d done enough of the mandatory psych sessions to know what her mind was doing as it kept replaying disjointed scenes, but knowing that didn’t make it any easier as she kept seeing Don going down and staying down, not being able to get to him without crossing a huge wide open space with bullets flying, and then concentrating too hard on covering Granger to know for sure if they’d both made it out safely. Until silence fell: the hush both surreal and ominous after the tumult. It lasted for the longest two seconds of her life before the radio crackled with Edgerton’s voice confirming his kill and Granger calling for medics. Even then they’d not been able to check on Don, having to ensure the place was clear and secure it first.
She remembered glancing down at Don lying there unmoving and unaware, with blood masking one side of his face, before turning away. She couldn’t look at him. She couldn’t face what had been her biggest fear when they were together. She couldn’t look at Colby’s set face as he methodically investigated Don’s injuries.
Thank God for David because, while she did her job, she knew her brain wasn’t functioning as it should and, she’d be willing to bet, neither was Colby’s. David stepped in and took over without hesitation.
By the time Edgerton arrived from wherever he’d hidden himself, looking as pale and grim as the rest of them, Don seemed to have come round. He wasn’t making much sense but at least he seemed to know who he was, and then the ambulance arrived and he was taken away, David ordering Colby to go with him. Once the sirens faded they left a dead silence in their wake. That was when she could have kissed David Sinclair because he organised them all, tasked them all, imbued them with a sense of purpose, and only stared briefly when Edgerton disappeared on them.
Liz shook her head impatiently, trying to dispel the images, and Nikki passed her a
coffee - she was really getting good at this facilitation of Liz’s slight addiction - with a wan smile. Ever since they’d gotten Colby’s call from the hospital things had been
easier, but they were still spooked. For any agent to go down spooked everyone. When it was Don, always so forceful and full of life, suddenly silent and still… Spooked wasn’t really a strong enough word any more.
She looked up from her coffee a while later when Colby came in. He was moving more carefully than usual, and she was pretty sure it wasn’t just because of the bruises he must have after the bullets that his vest had stopped. It looked more like he was holding himself together by strength of will alone. She nodded at him, but didn’t go to speak to him; she guessed he had too much to deal with right now. David and he had a quick exchange, then he sat down in front of his computer and started on what she assumed was his report.
He was still there when she and Nikki got up to leave. They were going for a drink together. Probably several. As they passed by his desk, she could see that he hadn’t made much, if any, headway on the report.
********
Ian stayed with Don till the staff suggested firmly for the third time that it was time for him to leave. Don had spent some of the time asleep but he’d wake up regularly and need reminding about various details of what had put him in the hospital. Other than lapses in his recent memory he seemed fine. A little short-tempered but Ian couldn’t blame him for that, not with the headache from hell that was undoubtedly his.
He sat in his car outside the hospital and wondered what to do next. It would be simple enough for him to book a hotel room somewhere, but that didn’t really appeal. He thought about calling Granger to see what he was up to, and then realised he didn’t have his number. He knew Granger’s body intimately, knew how he kissed, how he tasted, the look on his face as he came, but not his phone number.
In the end Ian called the FBI offices and asked to be put through. Granger picked up, sounding weary and like he’d just chain-smoked his way through a pack of Gauloises.
His voice changed when he heard Ian.
“Is Don all right?” he asked, suddenly urgent.
“He’s fine,” Ian said. Word of the day. Fine. It covered a multitude of sins. “I just wondered what you were up to tonight.”
“Oh. Yeah.” Colby sounded a bit lost. “I was going to go home, I guess.”
Ian could almost hear the cogs turning in his head, though it appeared they moved exceeding slow right now.
“You got somewhere to stay?” Colby asked at last.
“Not really.” Which wasn’t quite the truth but fuck it, Ian did not particularly want to spend the night in an anonymous hotel room after the day’s events.
“You could always - I mean, if you wanted - ”
“What’s your address?”
Granger’s apartment showed unmistakable signs of his military background: clean, and orderly to the point of being regimented. Speaking of which…
“Cute,” Ian said, inspecting the display on the bookshelf. “Can we play tea parties later?”
He got a swat on the back of his head for his trouble, and a plateful of Chinese food waved under his nose. It seemed Colby had gotten takeout on his way home.
It no longer felt strange to Ian to be there just with Colby, with no Don between them. Apart from when he gleefully swiped Ian’s prawn crackers - it appeared Don and Colby shared a fierce and unreasoning love for the things - Colby didn’t have much to say. Ian had always appreciated people who didn’t feel the need to fill peace with chatter.
After eating, Ian got his gun out and started stripping it down, cleaning it while Colby took the plates through into his postage-stamp sized kitchen and presumably washed them up. Muscle memory took over for Ian, and he found the ritual cleaning and reassembly as soothing as it always was. It marked the end of one operation and the beginning of another. That call he’d taken earlier meant he was likely on his way to Nebraska tomorrow; time to get back on the road and back on the hunt. If he stayed here too long he’d get lazy and soft - and he wasn’t just talking about the inordinate amount of takeout these two seemed to get through.
Gun packed away again, Ian sat back on the couch, wiping off his hands with his cleaning rag. It was way past midnight but if the sounds coming from the kitchen were any indication, Granger was still too wired to sleep.
Ian went to have a look and found Colby rearranging the contents of his cupboards in a way that was bringing him no satisfaction, judging by the frown on his face.
“Bed,” Ian said. “You can separate the white plates and the orange plates - wait, you have orange plates? What the hell, Granger?”
Colby looked up with a start, evidently taken by surprise by Ian’s sudden appearance. “They were on sale,” he said.
“You amaze me.”
“They’re plates,” Colby said. “They don’t need to look good.”
Ian had the definite feeling that Colby was procrastinating. Even he couldn’t be that interested in dinner plates.
“Hey,” he said, moving forward and removing one of the appalling plates in question from Colby’s hand. He put it down on the nearest stack of plates. “Don’s going to be okay.”
Colby turned his face away and nodded. Ian could see him swallowing.
“You got any secrets in the bedroom you need to hide before I go in there?” Ian asked before Colby could spot that the orange plate had been put on the white plate pile. “Your favourite army doll on your pillow maybe?”
Colby sighed long-sufferingly and pushed past Ian. As he left the mess he’d created in the kitchen without a backward glance and put the lights off in the rest of the apartment on the way to the bedroom, Ian counted it as a win.
He had another win to count once he got his first look at Colby’s torso and the dark bruises that were beginning to come through. Given their placement, Colby would have been unlikely to survive without the vest. And yeah, without the vest he wouldn’t have been out there in the first place, but that really wasn’t the point, Ian thought as Colby got into bed beside him.
“You know Don’s going to kick your ass for that, don’t you?” he asked as he ran his hand lightly over the bruises.
Colby shrugged. “I’d like to see him try with just one good leg,” he said, and then hissed in pain as Ian’s hand pressed in on his ribs.
“Just checking,” Ian said, fingers firmly exploring the whole of his rib cage.
“Fuck it, Edgerton, I’m fine,” Colby snapped at him.
“Reckon you are,” Ian said, and pulled him close, effectively shutting him up. “I’m glad,” he added, and then kissed him.
There was a moment’s resistance from Colby, taking Ian by surprise, but before he had time to rethink this Colby surrendered to him, and then started kissing him back, demanding connection and life and Ian. It was the first time he’d found Colby to be anything like assertive in bed, and Ian discovered he rather liked it.
They kissed for a while, the slight desperation in Colby slowly tamping back down until they were kissing simply for the pleasure of it, and Ian began to understand just why it was that Don was always kissing Colby.
When at last they stopped, more asleep than awake, Ian kept Colby close against him. He wasn’t a fanciful man, not by a long shot - and oh, Ian cracked himself up at times - but he knew that things could have gone very differently today and he wouldn’t have been able to do a thing but watch it happen in front of him. It wasn’t a reassuring thought.
********
Colby glanced at his alarm and saw it still had half an hour to go, but he couldn’t lie there for one more minute trying to get to sleep. His eyes were tired and sore, and his head was muzzy with lack of sleep. Aware of Ian, he’d tried not to toss and turn too much, but he suspected to no avail; every time he’d opened his eyes he could feel that Ian was awake too, though whether that was because of Colby’s restlessness or for Ian’s own reasons, he didn’t know.
Predictably Ian was awake now, watching him. If it were anybody but Ian the awareness in his gaze might be unsettling. But it was Ian and that was just who Ian was. Colby rolled over towards him, feeling at home against the warmth of his body, his hand on Ian’s chest absorbing the comforting rhythm of steady heartbeats. Steady heartbeats which seemed to increase slightly in their rate as Colby nuzzled against Ian, stubble catching slightly on the smooth skin of Ian’s shoulder, giving Colby all sorts of ideas about ways to spend the time till the alarm went.
He moved his way slowly down Ian’s body, teasing as he went, until he had Ian’s cock in his mouth, intent on giving Ian the best blowjob he had ever had. And from the way Ian was trying to twist up from Colby’s hands holding his hips down, and the amount of swearing going on, it was pretty damn good. He loved Ian’s cock. He loved its taste, its heat, its hardness in his mouth. When Ian finally surrendered to the inevitable, Colby took it all, loving that he had brought Ian to this.
Moving back up the bed he lay next to Ian, who was panting.
“Fuck,” Ian got out.
Colby agreed happily with the sentiment, and then Ian’s tongue pushed into Colby’s mouth. That, along with Ian’s clever hand, had Colby coming within seconds.
His eyes were closing and he was just beginning to drift off when the alarm went off, rude and insistent, and Ian was getting out of bed, slapping him on the ass on his way past to the shower.
“Work,” he said.
“Mmph.”
“Come on, Granger - you don’t want to be late. I hear your boss is something of a hardass.”
“You don’t know the half of it,” Colby mumbled into his pillow. “Positive slave driver. Hey, you think it’s too early to phone the hospital?”
Ian shrugged. “Might as well give it a try, check what time they’re going to spring him.”
By the time he came back from the shower, muttering something about Colby taking the whole military ethos a bit too far by not having even a single massage setting on his showerhead, Colby had spoken to Don. Don had sounded pleased to hear him, which had led Colby to second-guess for a few minutes the decision he’d made yesterday about them. But wish as he might, he knew nothing had changed since then. Had it been possible, he’d have preferred to avoid Don completely and come straight back home to his apartment tonight but he knew he’d have to see Don first, get it said, and then they could pretend that nothing had ever happened and everything would go back to how things had been before the relationship that never was.
“Don said Alan’s going to take him home later this morning,” he reported back to Ian. “Said we should pick up some takeout on the way over to his place tonight.”
“No,” Ian was firm. “I am not having one more takeout piece of shit. I’ll make something when we’re there, if I’m not in Nebraska.”
Colby blinked at him. “Is that likely?”
“Yeah, but I might not need to go ‘til tomorrow. I’ll make some calls when we get in.”
He glanced at his watch, a habit he’d doubtless picked up from Don, as he fastened it round his wrist. “You, shower, now.”
Colby sighed as he rolled out of his lovely, warm, comfortable bed. The day ahead of him was looking bleaker by the minute.
********
Don had been dressed and ready to leave for the past hour even though his dad wasn’t due for another ten minutes. Despite the temptation, he didn’t just call a cab to get him home now because he’d heard the remnants of fear in his dad’s voice when they’d spoken on the phone last night. He wouldn’t relax until he’d seen Don up and around, Don knew. So he sat on the bed, counting the minutes, and gritting his teeth against the thumping in his skull. It wasn’t much better this morning than it had been last night, but at least he’d stopped wanting to throw up every five minutes. Small mercies, he guessed.
“Hey Donnie, how’re you feeling?” His dad bustled in through the doorway, and Don couldn’t help but smile at the welcome sight of his dad’s concerned face.
“I’m fine,” he said. “I didn’t need to be here overnight - it’s just a bump on the head.”
His father did not agree. “You were shot.”
“Only just. His aim sucked.”
“Don - stop it.” His dad took him by the arm, whether to get his attention better for the scolding he was about to deliver or whether to make sure he was really still there, Don couldn’t guess. “I know what you do every day and I’m proud of you, but can you please stop joking about this? If you hadn’t been wearing your vest…. David tells me there were bullets in yours and in Colby’s. It scares me.”
“Dad, that’s why we wear them. I’m all right, I promise. They - wait, what? Colby got hit?”
“Just his vest. Apparently he got you under cover when you got shot.”
“Yeah, yeah, I remember that, I think.” He remembered fragments, anyway; the deafening sound of gunfire from every direction, and strong hands dragging him as everything around him blurred.
He shook his head, and immediately regretted doing so.
“I need to swing by the office on the way home,” he said.
“That’s not a good idea, Don. The doctor said you need to rest and take things easy for a few days.”
“Just for a few minutes.” And he really shouldn’t do this, he knew it, but if playing on his dad’s sympathies was what it took…. “I want to make sure the rest of the team are okay after yesterday.”
“Ten minutes,” his dad said.
Don refrained from nodding this time. Ten minutes would be enough.
Silence descended on the previously busy bullpen as he walked in. He knew this reaction all too well: an agent injured on duty reminded every single one of them how closely the same thing stalked them. He knew in a few days time it would be forgotten and all would be back to normal, but for now it was disconcerting.
The only people who were natural with him were the team, Liz giving him a quick hug - which was surely against office harassment guidelines - while David’s wide smile was followed almost immediately by a frown as he obviously realised Don had turned up some days earlier than expected.
“Good to have you back, boss.” Nikki greeted him with a grin that she couldn’t seem to keep off her face, and Colby nodded at him from his desk, his eyes giving the same message loud and clear.
“David, I need the reports on yesterday’s shooting.”
David passed them over, and the bullpen slowly returned to something approaching its usual atmosphere of people working hard and not getting caught up in other people’s business.
“Eppes.” Don started and looked up to find Ian hitching a hip onto Don’s desk. “I didn’t think you were back for a few days yet.”
“Just trying to find out what the hell went on yesterday,” Don said.
Don flicked his eyes back down to David’s statement, seeing what he’d written about Don going down, about how he and Liz and Nikki had laid down covering fire while -
“Granger!”
Colby’s head jerked up.
“War room. Now.”
Don strode - he most definitely did not limp - to the war room. As soon as he heard the door close behind Colby he swung round to face him - and okay, that fucking hurt and he wouldn’t be doing that again for a while. He glared in Colby’s general direction while he waited for the dizziness to ease and his vision to clear. Once it did, he could see that Colby was looking a little apprehensive. Good.
“I’ve just read David’s report from yesterday,” he said, voice low with anger. “What the hell did you think you were doing out there?”
“My job?” Colby was looking more confused with every passing minute, and that stoked Don’s fury.
“What the fuck were you thinking, Granger, breaking cover and running into the kill zone like that? How could you be so fucking stupid?”
Colby’s face froze in shock at Don’s tone, which was calculated to flay him.
“I expected better than that from you.” Don’s disappointed gaze flicked over him. “Doing shit like that you’re a goddamn liability.”
Colby stiffened even further, and Don turned away. He couldn’t bring himself to look at Granger right now.
“Get out.”
He heard the door open, and before it had closed again he reached for it, needing to get out of the place before he lost it completely. Edgerton’s voice reached his ears, as Don suspected it was intended to, just as he turned towards the elevators.
“What Don means to say is thank you very much, and you scared the crap out of him.”
If he’d thought Edgerton would have taken it from him, Don would have turned round then and there and given him hell for not capturing Marriott months ago, for letting the whole clusterfuck happen in the first place.
He stabbed at the button for the first floor, and when the doors didn’t shut he stabbed at it again. They started to close, but not quickly enough to prevent him seeing across the floor to where David and Liz were standing with an expressionless Granger. Liz looked back at Don and their eyes held until the doors slid shut. She had no right, damn it, no fucking right to look at him like that.
**
His dad had been unhappy about leaving Don on his own but after he’d seen Don take his painkillers and gotten him set up on the couch with his leg propped up on the coffee table, his phone, television remote, a sandwich and a glass of water in easy reach, he’d reluctantly accepted Don’s decision that he was staying in his apartment, and left. Which was just as well; Don might love his dad but the last thing he needed right now was somebody looking at him in that knowing way that his dad was such a master at and that he’d been doing ever since Don had gotten back into the car at the office. He didn’t know what it was that his father saw when he did that, but he thought that was probably the point. It was the ‘I know everything so you might as well tell me’ approach that worked so well in breaking down suspects in interrogation.
He was feeling calmer now, or at least slightly less furious. Colby had done something so idiotic it still made his chest constrict with rage to think of how badly, appallingly wrong it could have gone, but at least he wouldn’t be pulling something like that again in a hurry. One thing you could say about Don Eppes: nobody ever forgot a chewing out from him. Nikki was still over-compensating around him after the last one he’d given her, but it was the only way she’d learn. He was looking out for her, keeping her safe, just like he was with Colby. Don knew - hell, they all knew - there was no such thing as safe when you were an agent on active duty. Trying too hard to stay safe almost guaranteed that you, or somebody else, would end up hurt or dead. But there was a difference between accepting unavoidable risks and being reckless the way Nikki had been in her desire to impress, and the way Colby had been in his need to - to do what, Don wasn’t entirely sure, just that it had been reckless and stupid.
Don tried hard not to think about how else this might have gone down, what it would have done to his father if he’d ended up with a bullet rather than a planter in his forehead. He remembered what Bradford had said - he remembered too many of the uncomfortable things Bradford had said, for that matter, but this one made sense - about it being what you did before you went down that mattered. And Don had a team he was damn proud of to leave as his legacy. He and Charlie were friends now, against all expectations.
If - when - it was his time, he guessed there wasn’t that much he’d regret. Except the whole relationship thing. That was something he sucked at so hard and he didn’t know why. He’d tried. Tried too often, if the reputation he’d gotten for himself was anything to go by, but each time he thought, or at least hoped, that this time it would be different and that it would work. And each and every time he ended up realising that it wasn’t different and it wouldn’t work, because there were always demands and expectations that left him feeling backed into a corner.
He must have dozed off - the doctor had warned him he’d be sleepier than usual for the next few days - because he came to with a jerk when there was a sharp rapping on the apartment door. Sighing, he went over to open it, finding that the painkillers seemed to have improved things a bit in both his head and his leg. That was just as well because he found himself backing up into his apartment a lot more quickly than he’d anticipated, a furious Colby right in his face.
“You do not get to do that at the office where I can’t go back at you.”
Don had only ever known one way to meet an attack, and that was to attack straight back. “I’m your boss, Colby, like it or not. There are times I have to call you out, and when you do something that stupid, you deserve it.”
“So if it had been David - who incidentally was about three seconds behind me in going after you - you’d have said the same thing?”
“Yes. It was the wrong call to make and you know it.” Anger surged in Don as he challenged Colby to deny the truth.
“You’d have told him he was a liability?”
Oh for God’s sake… “Yes.”
Colby said nothing but he held Don’s gaze, and the innate fairness that all Don’s time in the Bureau had failed to beat out of him won through.
“Ah, damn it, Colby, no - no I wouldn’t have said that.” He ran his hand impatiently through his hair. “But you can’t do that, put yourself out there like that.”
“We do it every day, Don.”
At Colby’s reasonable tone rage licked through him, until he was almost vibrating with it. He wanted nothing more than to grab Colby and shake some sense into that thick fucking skull of his. “You think I don’t know that?” he snapped, his fists clenching. “But not like that.”
“Not for you, you mean? You think I could have left you lying out there?”
Colby’s voice was so raw that Don sat down on the couch rather than look at him.
“Hey,” Colby crouched in front of him, forcing Don’s eyes to meet his. “I’m careful, Don, you know that. You’re careful. But sometimes shit just happens, and you do the best you can. And I knew Ian had our backs.” He paused, then asked, “What would you have done if it had been another member of the team? What if it had been David or Liz or me?”
“Don’t you dare say that,” Don snarled at him, his hands coming up to push him away but ending up fisting into his shirt, holding him there, refusing to let him get away with this. “Don’t you fucking dare.”
Colby was doing that stupid, stupid non-expression thing with his face that he did sometimes. “It could have happened that way,” he said. “You know it could.”
“No.” Don let go of him as if he were toxic. Because he was not going there - he was not thinking of Colby lying out in the open like that, down and defenceless
“You shouldn’t have done it,” was what he said, and fuck, even he knew it sounded weak, but Colby was being so fucking reasonable it left Don with nowhere to go. He needed Colby to get angry again, needed him to push back at Don so he could make him see.
“You let everyone down back there,” he accused Colby. “Your job was to take down Marriott, not to run round trying to be some sort of wannabe hero.”
Colby sat back on his heels then, and Don felt a brief stab of guilt because instead of the anger he was aiming for, he could see obvious hurt in Colby’s eyes before Colby dropped his gaze.
“So if it had been any one of us, you’d have left us there,” Colby said quietly. “Good to know.”
The defeat and the regret in his voice sliced Don apart.
“No, Colby - no, I wouldn’t - oh, fuck it.”
He buried his face in his hands, frustration and anger and pain swirling until he no longer knew which way was up. If he weren’t so fucking exhausted, if he could just think, he could explain it, make sure Colby got it.
He heard Colby sigh, and then his hand curved over Don’s bowed neck and came to rest, warm and reassuring.
“I don’t get it,” Colby said. “Why’s it different for you? Why can’t I do the same thing for you that you would for any of us?”
“Because I can’t lose you.” Desperate words he’d never meant to say but couldn’t take back, and now he couldn’t even breathe properly but they still spilled out of him. “I can’t do that, Colby. I can’t.”
Colby’s hand tightened for an instant on his neck and Don let himself be drawn forward until his face was hidden against Colby’s broad shoulder, where he was safe.
Colby’s fingers threaded through his hair, providing an obscure sort of comfort. Don drew long shuddering breaths, hands twisting into Colby’s shirt, fighting to regain control over whatever it was that was tearing loose inside him. “I need you,” he said into Colby’s shoulder, his voice tight and choked.
He thought he might just fly apart under it all but then Colby’s hand was cupping the back of his head, holding him close, grounding him. “Me too,” he said softly.
Colby stayed like that, solid and warm and there, and Don’s breathing finally steadied, and his death-grip on Colby’s shirt slackened as the beginnings of self-consciousness stirred. At the first hint of a change, Colby let him go but he didn’t move, meaning that unless Don was going to pretend that nothing had just happened, he was left with no option but to meet Colby’s gaze as he raised his head. There was a clarity in Colby’s eyes that Don couldn’t remember seeing before. Don had no idea what Colby might be seeing in return.
Don rubbed his hands briefly over his face. “Fuck it,” he said, “I need to get some sleep. You staying?”
Colby didn’t answer instantly, and Don’s breath caught. It hadn’t occurred to him that Colby might say no.
Then Colby was nodding almost imperceptibly. “Yeah,” he said. “I’m staying.”
********
Colby knelt in front of Don, who had ended up sitting on the bed. He took off Don’s shoes and socks, then got him to stand up while he eased his pants down over the dressing on his leg. Don took off his shirt and the bruising on his chest was spectacular enough that Colby hesitated before pulling his own shirt off in front of Don, and then decided that if Don was going to give him any more grief about it he’d rather get it over and done with now. As it turned out, Don said nothing.
Colby closed the blinds, throwing the room into restful near-darkness, and joined Don in bed. He was careful not to risk knocking Don’s injured leg as he did so but Don showed no such restraint, pulling Colby close to him and holding him there. Pressed against him like this, Colby could feel that Don’s heart was beating more quickly than it should be. But that was fine, because Colby’s might not have been quite steady right now either.
They held each other close and Colby closed his eyes as he listened to Don’s soft breathing and felt his warmth, and the strength of his arms holding Colby. And in the privacy of the dark Colby whispered words like alive and want and need against Don’s skin, his fingers tracing the path his breath had taken. Don left his own trail of quiet words branding Colby’s body, please and stay and you, and the tight unhappiness that Colby had been living with for so long began to ease.
He woke some time later to Don’s sleepy kisses on his skin. Colby knew that in a while they’d have to get up and face the daylight and the world, but right now, here, it was like catching that perfect wave.
********
Author: TBA
Disclaimer: Author doesn't own the show or the characters and isn't making any profit.
Title: Theory and Application (Part 4)
Pairing: Don/Colby; Don/Ian; Don/Colby/Ian; a 'blink and you'll miss it' mention of past Don/Ian/OMC
Rating: NC-17
Warnings: None
Summary: Solving bank robberies, tracking down fugitives, sleeping with a member of his team - it’s all in a day’s work for Don Eppes. So a visit from an old friend shouldn’t change anything, right?
Author's Note: A huge thanks you to my beta for her clear-sightedness and enthusiastic encouragement throughout the writing of this.
********
Colby was back to trawling through video footage next morning. Charlie’s new refinements had given them a tighter search area and, should they still fail to find Marriott within that zone, Charlie had also, in an apparently sophisticated application of some mathematical theorem that Colby had, not surprisingly, never heard of, reduced the number of probable targets to single digits for the next robbery, meaning stakeouts would be viable. That much Colby had gathered from Charlie’s excited conversation on his arrival in the bullpen before Don took him and Ian into the war room, where the closed door slightly muted the sounds of a math genius in full flow.
He found himself watching them for a few minutes, even though he had more than enough of his own work to be doing. It didn’t escape his notice that Don and Ian had unconsciously adopted the same stance as they listened to Charlie’s enthusiastic exposition. They were leaning apparently casually against adjoining tables, arms crossed and heads slightly cocked, each betraying a certain predatory intent as they focused intensely on what Charlie was saying. Although they’d just exchanged glances at something Charlie had said, sharing an unspoken amusement, it didn’t disrupt their concentration for an instant, each of them capable of assimilating a mass of information and almost instantly identifying and shaping into new patterns the pertinent points. It really should be no surprise to anybody that they would turn out to match one another in all areas of their lives.
Colby mentally shook himself and got back to what he was supposed to be doing. He knew he had things to think about and some personal decisions to make, but
right now his focus should be on getting the job done and Marriott and his crew behind bars. His lips compressed as he pored with grim concentration over the grainy CCTV footage, determined to find something, some clue in what was in front of him, that would give him that elusive missing piece.
********
Despite the fact it was early on a Monday morning, Nikki could hardly contain her sense of excitement and achievement. It had taken both time and determination, working through so many prison visit records - and who would have thought a man with the apparent social skills of Rod Marriott would attract so many visitors - and then confirming not just the real identity of each visitor but what linked them to Marriott. The lack of a father’s name on the birth certificate hadn’t helped either, but she’d finally managed to put it altogether. This was it, this was the thing that would take them to Marriott’s front door. She burst into the war room where Don was talking to Charlie and Agent Sexy.
“Marriott’s got a daughter that no-one knew about,” she announced. “She lives in LA.”
Don’s slight frown at her excited entry changed to one of concentration as he shot questions at her, and by the time it was ascertained that the daughter not only lived in LA but that her address was in the area identified by Charlie as being where Marriott was currently based, it was all systems go.
********
David whistled slightly as they drew up a little distance from the daughter’s house. “Who says crime doesn’t pay?”
“I want to know how come I’m the only person in LA who doesn’t get their own pool,” Colby grumbled.
They joined the rest of the team, Don tasking them to take the back while he and the others went in through the front, with LAPD holding the perimeter. Edgerton was already gone, doubtless finding high ground somewhere. David found it reassuring to know he would be covering them; he’d never had quite the same trust in SWAT since they’d almost him killed him in that elevator.
He followed Colby in through the back door and almost instantly got the feeling that the place was empty. It was an intuition he never gave any weight to until the fact was verified, just in case, but one which he’d honed over the years. Somewhere that was truly empty always felt different from somewhere people were hiding.
Having ensured the house was clear, they regrouped in the kitchen where there were signs of recent occupancy in the guise of a gold-banded porcelain cup of lukewarm coffee on the polished granite island, with a matching plate boasting a selection of petits fours. It seemed a pretty safe bet to David that Marriott wouldn’t be in a hurry to return to the prison lifestyle any time soon.
They’d obviously been spotted on their approach. As nobody had gotten past LAPD’s perimeter, whoever that cup belonged to had to be somewhere in the collection of outhouses - pool house, tool shed, garage - that littered the substantial property.
That in turn meant increased risk; there were areas of cover, but areas too that were wide open. The garage was a slam dunk, with exquisitely manicured privet hedges providing cover right up to the doors, but anybody approaching the pool house would have to cross several yards of travertine patio, where lead planters containing a selection of brightly-coloured flowers provided no cover worthy of the name. David could see Don weighing up the risks, right about the time Colby devoured the last of the petits fours with an expression of pure bliss on his face. Maybe Colby should get a place with a pool; it looked like he’d be needing to take more exercise in the
near future if he was still going to fit into his tac vest.
David wondered if they’d be stood down till SWAT got there, but then Don spoke to Edgerton and found he had a good vantage point of the back yard.
They went in.
********
Don knew it was an exposed approach, but he had no other choice. The garage had been clear; the tool shed too. Between Edgerton’s birds’ eye view and the rest of the team, they’d searched the yard pretty thoroughly. The only place left was the pool house, standing in splendid isolation without a hint of cover in sight. And without a hint of life currently showing through the windows, according to Edgerton. But it was the only place left, and there was only one way to get close enough.
Don was almost halfway across the open ground, running fast but careful, bent to
provide the smallest possible target while the others laid down a withering curtain of fire at the pool house to cover his approach, when without warning it felt like an eighteen-wheeler slammed into his chest. And then another one. The blows knocked him off-balance, throwing all his weight onto his right leg which suddenly buckled under him. He was aware he was going down completely out of control with the corner of one of those planters coming up at him damn fast, and then nothing.
********
Colby was close to wearing a hole in the floor of the hospital waiting area by the time Ian got there. He thought it was probably only the fact he was still in his tac vest with his gun shoved in his waistband that had stopped anybody approaching him and asking him to sit down and stop disturbing the other distressed people, please, sir.
It was supposed to have been a routine extraction. He knew better than to believe any operation was really routine but he hadn’t been prepared to see Don go down in a burst of gunfire and lie there unmoving except for the blood trickling down his face and a slowly-growing blood stain on the right leg of his jeans.
He rubbed his hand fretfully against his mouth, trying to banish the pictures, remembering instead the way Don had been conscious, though vague and confused, when they’d loaded him into the ambulance. There’d been no sense of muted panic from the medics, which he knew should reassure him. But even if it was just a bang on the head from that fucking oversized flowerpot, these things could develop; people could be conscious and talking one minute and - yeah, and he was not going to go down that road because the family huddled together in the corner, sobbing quietly, probably did not deserve for him to start doing something really dumb like shooting something. Or someone. It was a fucking shame Edgerton was such a good shot; Colby would like nothing better than to look into Marriott’s eyes and pull the trigger himself.
He turned as the doors opened, and Edgerton strode in.
“No news yet,” Colby said quickly, “but he was conscious most of the ride in. They’re going to x-ray and do a scan, but seem to think it’s not too serious.” And he sounded like a babbling optimistic fool, but anything to try and take that tight look away from around Ian’s eyes.
“His leg?”
“Seems like it’s a fairly clean through and through.”
“Thank fuck,” Ian said.
“Yeah,” Colby agreed.
With Ian there he didn’t go back to his pacing but was too wired to sit down. The adrenaline come-down from any fire fight was tough; this one, with nowhere to let it go, was making him twitchy on the inside and he knew if somebody said the wrong thing at the wrong time he might not be responsible for his actions.
Thankfully the doctor who came out to see them later was businesslike, getting straight to the point. Apparently Don had a grade three concussion and they wanted to keep him overnight to monitor him, but the bullet wound had been relatively minor and had been dealt with already.
“Give it another ten minutes,” she concluded. “We’re getting him settled. Reception will tell you which room he’s in.”
As she went, leaving an air of brusque efficiency in her wake, Colby sat down in the nearest chair and rubbed his hands over his face. He was aware of Ian’s hand briefly on his shoulder, but then the doors opened and he looked up to find Alan and Charlie hurrying in. Charlie looked wide-eyed and pale, and Alan… Alan looked so diminished that Colby barely recognised him. Getting quickly to his feet, Colby met them halfway.
“He’s fine,” he said, putting his hand on Alan’s bowed shoulder. “The doc says she wants to keep him overnight just to keep an eye on him because he’s got a doozy of a concussion, but he’s going to be okay.”
“David said he was shot.” Charlie was practically bursting out of his skin with anxiety, hardly able to keep still.
“He’s fine, Charlie. He got nicked by a bullet but it hasn’t done any real damage.”
Colby had kept his hand on Alan’s shoulder, and he could feel the change in the man as he drew himself together.
“Thank you, Colby,” he said, and Colby let his hand fall away. “Have you caught whoever was responsible?”
Colby nodded towards Ian who’d hung back, presumably to give them some privacy. “Edgerton took care of it,” was all he said, but that’s all he needed to say.
Alan nodded over towards Ian, before looking back at Charlie.
“Let’s go see your brother,” he said and followed in Charlie’s unpredictable wake as in his anxiety and eagerness he practically skittered down the corridor to the Reception desk.
Ian raised his eyebrows as Colby joined him. “Well,” he said, “That’s the last bit of peace Don’s going to be getting for a while.”
Colby looked at his watch. “Guess I should get back to the office before too much longer.”
“Reckon so,” Ian said.
They stood there.
“You want to get a coffee or something?” Colby asked eventually.
They ended up in the hospital cafeteria, Colby having first called David to let him know Don’s status. Their desultory talk about the menu (terrible), the coffee (even worse), and the prices (just shocking) was exactly what Colby needed right then. Because Don was fine and it would be melodramatic, to say the least, to think of what might have happened, how they might be sitting somewhere else right now planning his funeral. Well, okay, maybe an hour after the event would have been a bit soon to break out the hymnal and start choosing favourites, but Colby knew what he meant.
He realised after a while that Ian was snapping his fingers in front of his face.
“Granger, you in there?” he asked.
“Uh, yeah.” Colby took a swig from his coffee to find it was completely cold and even more revolting than it had been when hot.
“Good job back there.”
Colby met Ian’s steady gaze and nodded slightly. “I knew you had us covered.”
And then the lady from the till - Jeanette, her name badge said - came to clear their cups away. It seemed like even here there were unwritten rules about the length of time anyone could table-hog.
“You reckon the Eppes invasion is over yet?” Ian asked.
Colby grinned slightly. “Depends on how much hyper math geek the nurses can cope with. You want to find out?”
They headed up towards Don’s room, but Ian’s cell rang en route and he stopped to take the call, waving to Colby to continue.
The nurses’ patience had presumably been exhausted because Colby found Don alone in the room. His eyes were closed and he was lying still, looking disconcertingly small in the bed, with bruising showing around the stitches that held the wound in his forehead together.
Colby moved quietly to sit in the chair beside the bed. He knew the rules, knew they were to all intents and purposes no more than colleagues, but he could sit and just be there. It was what a colleague would do; it was what Megan had done for him that first day after the freighter when nobody was supposed to touch him because of the drugs. He knew he’d found it comforting in his brief moments of clarity. He didn’t think Don Eppes would need comforting but Colby didn’t care. It was enough to sit there watching Don’s chest rise and fall, knowing that for each breath he drew, one more would follow.
He became aware of another presence after a while and looked up to find Ian leaning against the doorjamb, watching them. He looked like he might have been there some time.
“You want a seat?” Hooking his foot around the leg of the chair next to him, Colby dragged it forward in invitation.
“I won’t stay,” Ian said after a moment. “He’s in good hands.”
Colby frowned slightly as he looked at Ian. At some point over the last few days, without Colby realising it, Ian had stopped being Ian Edgerton with all that entailed, and become simply Ian. Now, however, Ian Edgerton was back in full force, with an Agent tacked onto the front of that for good measure. It wasn’t a good look on him to somebody who’d gotten used to seeing Ian.
“I’ll have to go back into the office soon,” Colby said, feeling his way. “You should stay.”
Edgerton looked at him for a long moment, then his gaze flicked over to Don, and Colby saw when he became Ian again.
“See you later,” Colby said, standing up. He looked down at Don for a moment before moving past Ian to the door.
Once outside the front entrance of the hospital, he hesitated. He’d need to take a cab to the office after riding in the ambulance on the way but he wasn’t ready to go back yet. Ignoring the line of cabs waiting hopefully for custom, he sat down on the wall of the raised flowerbed next to the entrance, his elbows propped on his thighs and his hands hanging loosely between his knees as he stared down at the sidewalk.
He couldn’t avoid it any longer. Don might have been kidding last night about the masseur thing - at least Colby hoped he was because he wasn’t sure whether the concept of Masseur Edgerton left him wildly turned on, petrified, or some truly disturbing mixture of the two - but Colby had been certain he wasn’t kidding about wanting Ian to stay. Until he’d seen Don and Ian together, he’d managed to fool himself quite successfully that the thing between him and Don had been more than it actually was. But what was between him and Don was a pale shadow at best of how Don and Ian were. It was pretty clear now that Colby had simply been… And how pathetic was it that he didn’t even know what he had been for Don. A way to pass the time, or a mistake, maybe. Definitely another Mitchell, whoever he might have been - fun for a weekend with Don and Ian and then forgotten.
Once Don was out of hospital, Colby would let him know. He couldn’t quite visualise how that conversation would go - Hey Don, that non-relationship we’re having? Well, don’t worry, we’re not having it any longer - but it was best to give the thing a quick and merciful death.
********
As Colby left, Ian settled into the chair he’d vacated. Stretching his jean-clad legs in front of him, he inspected them for a while. This was not what he’d signed up for, and he still wasn’t quite sure how Colby had talked him out of leaving. It wasn’t often that Ian Edgerton found himself wondering just what in the hell he was doing. It was even less often that he could find no satisfactory answer.
Some time later Don stirred, blinking awake.
“You’ve got to learn to duck, Eppes,” Ian said.
It took Don a moment to focus on him, but then he gave a slight grin. “I knew you had our backs.”
“Always.”
Ian had meant it to be light-hearted if not downright ironic, but as that wasn’t quite how it came out he was relieved that Don seemed less than his usual alert self. Over the next twenty minutes or so he must have asked about five times whether anybody else had been hurt, what had happened to Marriott, and if they had any leads now on his crew. To which the answers were: no; dead finally - once the fucker had broken cover long enough to keep shooting at them through the window, Ian had been able to get a bead on him; and yes.
Once Don started to focus a bit better, he started to grumble that he really didn’t need to be in hospital because of a tiny hole - okay Edgerton, two tiny holes - in his leg and a dent in his skull. The crease between his brows told a different story, though; it seemed he had the sort of ferocious headache that went with the concussion turf.
“D’you want to get some sleep?” Ian asked after a while. “Give your headache time to shift.”
Don moved restlessly in the bed. “Guess so.” But he showed no signs of it. “Hey, did anyone let Dad and Charlie know?”
“They were here earlier and they know you’re okay,” Ian said. “Colby talked your dad down.”
“Colby’s here?”
If Ian were anyone but the compassionate sniper he was, he might feel inclined to tease: Don Eppes looked like a kid on Christmas morning.
“He stayed till he had to go back into the office.”
Soon after, Don fell asleep again.
********
Liz was struggling to concentrate. They still had Marriott’s accomplices to track down, though that should be easy enough now they had his phone, computer, and daughter. Not necessarily in that order.
Try as she might to focus on the screen in front of her, she wasn’t doing a very good job of it. She’d done enough of the mandatory psych sessions to know what her mind was doing as it kept replaying disjointed scenes, but knowing that didn’t make it any easier as she kept seeing Don going down and staying down, not being able to get to him without crossing a huge wide open space with bullets flying, and then concentrating too hard on covering Granger to know for sure if they’d both made it out safely. Until silence fell: the hush both surreal and ominous after the tumult. It lasted for the longest two seconds of her life before the radio crackled with Edgerton’s voice confirming his kill and Granger calling for medics. Even then they’d not been able to check on Don, having to ensure the place was clear and secure it first.
She remembered glancing down at Don lying there unmoving and unaware, with blood masking one side of his face, before turning away. She couldn’t look at him. She couldn’t face what had been her biggest fear when they were together. She couldn’t look at Colby’s set face as he methodically investigated Don’s injuries.
Thank God for David because, while she did her job, she knew her brain wasn’t functioning as it should and, she’d be willing to bet, neither was Colby’s. David stepped in and took over without hesitation.
By the time Edgerton arrived from wherever he’d hidden himself, looking as pale and grim as the rest of them, Don seemed to have come round. He wasn’t making much sense but at least he seemed to know who he was, and then the ambulance arrived and he was taken away, David ordering Colby to go with him. Once the sirens faded they left a dead silence in their wake. That was when she could have kissed David Sinclair because he organised them all, tasked them all, imbued them with a sense of purpose, and only stared briefly when Edgerton disappeared on them.
Liz shook her head impatiently, trying to dispel the images, and Nikki passed her a
coffee - she was really getting good at this facilitation of Liz’s slight addiction - with a wan smile. Ever since they’d gotten Colby’s call from the hospital things had been
easier, but they were still spooked. For any agent to go down spooked everyone. When it was Don, always so forceful and full of life, suddenly silent and still… Spooked wasn’t really a strong enough word any more.
She looked up from her coffee a while later when Colby came in. He was moving more carefully than usual, and she was pretty sure it wasn’t just because of the bruises he must have after the bullets that his vest had stopped. It looked more like he was holding himself together by strength of will alone. She nodded at him, but didn’t go to speak to him; she guessed he had too much to deal with right now. David and he had a quick exchange, then he sat down in front of his computer and started on what she assumed was his report.
He was still there when she and Nikki got up to leave. They were going for a drink together. Probably several. As they passed by his desk, she could see that he hadn’t made much, if any, headway on the report.
********
Ian stayed with Don till the staff suggested firmly for the third time that it was time for him to leave. Don had spent some of the time asleep but he’d wake up regularly and need reminding about various details of what had put him in the hospital. Other than lapses in his recent memory he seemed fine. A little short-tempered but Ian couldn’t blame him for that, not with the headache from hell that was undoubtedly his.
He sat in his car outside the hospital and wondered what to do next. It would be simple enough for him to book a hotel room somewhere, but that didn’t really appeal. He thought about calling Granger to see what he was up to, and then realised he didn’t have his number. He knew Granger’s body intimately, knew how he kissed, how he tasted, the look on his face as he came, but not his phone number.
In the end Ian called the FBI offices and asked to be put through. Granger picked up, sounding weary and like he’d just chain-smoked his way through a pack of Gauloises.
His voice changed when he heard Ian.
“Is Don all right?” he asked, suddenly urgent.
“He’s fine,” Ian said. Word of the day. Fine. It covered a multitude of sins. “I just wondered what you were up to tonight.”
“Oh. Yeah.” Colby sounded a bit lost. “I was going to go home, I guess.”
Ian could almost hear the cogs turning in his head, though it appeared they moved exceeding slow right now.
“You got somewhere to stay?” Colby asked at last.
“Not really.” Which wasn’t quite the truth but fuck it, Ian did not particularly want to spend the night in an anonymous hotel room after the day’s events.
“You could always - I mean, if you wanted - ”
“What’s your address?”
Granger’s apartment showed unmistakable signs of his military background: clean, and orderly to the point of being regimented. Speaking of which…
“Cute,” Ian said, inspecting the display on the bookshelf. “Can we play tea parties later?”
He got a swat on the back of his head for his trouble, and a plateful of Chinese food waved under his nose. It seemed Colby had gotten takeout on his way home.
It no longer felt strange to Ian to be there just with Colby, with no Don between them. Apart from when he gleefully swiped Ian’s prawn crackers - it appeared Don and Colby shared a fierce and unreasoning love for the things - Colby didn’t have much to say. Ian had always appreciated people who didn’t feel the need to fill peace with chatter.
After eating, Ian got his gun out and started stripping it down, cleaning it while Colby took the plates through into his postage-stamp sized kitchen and presumably washed them up. Muscle memory took over for Ian, and he found the ritual cleaning and reassembly as soothing as it always was. It marked the end of one operation and the beginning of another. That call he’d taken earlier meant he was likely on his way to Nebraska tomorrow; time to get back on the road and back on the hunt. If he stayed here too long he’d get lazy and soft - and he wasn’t just talking about the inordinate amount of takeout these two seemed to get through.
Gun packed away again, Ian sat back on the couch, wiping off his hands with his cleaning rag. It was way past midnight but if the sounds coming from the kitchen were any indication, Granger was still too wired to sleep.
Ian went to have a look and found Colby rearranging the contents of his cupboards in a way that was bringing him no satisfaction, judging by the frown on his face.
“Bed,” Ian said. “You can separate the white plates and the orange plates - wait, you have orange plates? What the hell, Granger?”
Colby looked up with a start, evidently taken by surprise by Ian’s sudden appearance. “They were on sale,” he said.
“You amaze me.”
“They’re plates,” Colby said. “They don’t need to look good.”
Ian had the definite feeling that Colby was procrastinating. Even he couldn’t be that interested in dinner plates.
“Hey,” he said, moving forward and removing one of the appalling plates in question from Colby’s hand. He put it down on the nearest stack of plates. “Don’s going to be okay.”
Colby turned his face away and nodded. Ian could see him swallowing.
“You got any secrets in the bedroom you need to hide before I go in there?” Ian asked before Colby could spot that the orange plate had been put on the white plate pile. “Your favourite army doll on your pillow maybe?”
Colby sighed long-sufferingly and pushed past Ian. As he left the mess he’d created in the kitchen without a backward glance and put the lights off in the rest of the apartment on the way to the bedroom, Ian counted it as a win.
He had another win to count once he got his first look at Colby’s torso and the dark bruises that were beginning to come through. Given their placement, Colby would have been unlikely to survive without the vest. And yeah, without the vest he wouldn’t have been out there in the first place, but that really wasn’t the point, Ian thought as Colby got into bed beside him.
“You know Don’s going to kick your ass for that, don’t you?” he asked as he ran his hand lightly over the bruises.
Colby shrugged. “I’d like to see him try with just one good leg,” he said, and then hissed in pain as Ian’s hand pressed in on his ribs.
“Just checking,” Ian said, fingers firmly exploring the whole of his rib cage.
“Fuck it, Edgerton, I’m fine,” Colby snapped at him.
“Reckon you are,” Ian said, and pulled him close, effectively shutting him up. “I’m glad,” he added, and then kissed him.
There was a moment’s resistance from Colby, taking Ian by surprise, but before he had time to rethink this Colby surrendered to him, and then started kissing him back, demanding connection and life and Ian. It was the first time he’d found Colby to be anything like assertive in bed, and Ian discovered he rather liked it.
They kissed for a while, the slight desperation in Colby slowly tamping back down until they were kissing simply for the pleasure of it, and Ian began to understand just why it was that Don was always kissing Colby.
When at last they stopped, more asleep than awake, Ian kept Colby close against him. He wasn’t a fanciful man, not by a long shot - and oh, Ian cracked himself up at times - but he knew that things could have gone very differently today and he wouldn’t have been able to do a thing but watch it happen in front of him. It wasn’t a reassuring thought.
********
Colby glanced at his alarm and saw it still had half an hour to go, but he couldn’t lie there for one more minute trying to get to sleep. His eyes were tired and sore, and his head was muzzy with lack of sleep. Aware of Ian, he’d tried not to toss and turn too much, but he suspected to no avail; every time he’d opened his eyes he could feel that Ian was awake too, though whether that was because of Colby’s restlessness or for Ian’s own reasons, he didn’t know.
Predictably Ian was awake now, watching him. If it were anybody but Ian the awareness in his gaze might be unsettling. But it was Ian and that was just who Ian was. Colby rolled over towards him, feeling at home against the warmth of his body, his hand on Ian’s chest absorbing the comforting rhythm of steady heartbeats. Steady heartbeats which seemed to increase slightly in their rate as Colby nuzzled against Ian, stubble catching slightly on the smooth skin of Ian’s shoulder, giving Colby all sorts of ideas about ways to spend the time till the alarm went.
He moved his way slowly down Ian’s body, teasing as he went, until he had Ian’s cock in his mouth, intent on giving Ian the best blowjob he had ever had. And from the way Ian was trying to twist up from Colby’s hands holding his hips down, and the amount of swearing going on, it was pretty damn good. He loved Ian’s cock. He loved its taste, its heat, its hardness in his mouth. When Ian finally surrendered to the inevitable, Colby took it all, loving that he had brought Ian to this.
Moving back up the bed he lay next to Ian, who was panting.
“Fuck,” Ian got out.
Colby agreed happily with the sentiment, and then Ian’s tongue pushed into Colby’s mouth. That, along with Ian’s clever hand, had Colby coming within seconds.
His eyes were closing and he was just beginning to drift off when the alarm went off, rude and insistent, and Ian was getting out of bed, slapping him on the ass on his way past to the shower.
“Work,” he said.
“Mmph.”
“Come on, Granger - you don’t want to be late. I hear your boss is something of a hardass.”
“You don’t know the half of it,” Colby mumbled into his pillow. “Positive slave driver. Hey, you think it’s too early to phone the hospital?”
Ian shrugged. “Might as well give it a try, check what time they’re going to spring him.”
By the time he came back from the shower, muttering something about Colby taking the whole military ethos a bit too far by not having even a single massage setting on his showerhead, Colby had spoken to Don. Don had sounded pleased to hear him, which had led Colby to second-guess for a few minutes the decision he’d made yesterday about them. But wish as he might, he knew nothing had changed since then. Had it been possible, he’d have preferred to avoid Don completely and come straight back home to his apartment tonight but he knew he’d have to see Don first, get it said, and then they could pretend that nothing had ever happened and everything would go back to how things had been before the relationship that never was.
“Don said Alan’s going to take him home later this morning,” he reported back to Ian. “Said we should pick up some takeout on the way over to his place tonight.”
“No,” Ian was firm. “I am not having one more takeout piece of shit. I’ll make something when we’re there, if I’m not in Nebraska.”
Colby blinked at him. “Is that likely?”
“Yeah, but I might not need to go ‘til tomorrow. I’ll make some calls when we get in.”
He glanced at his watch, a habit he’d doubtless picked up from Don, as he fastened it round his wrist. “You, shower, now.”
Colby sighed as he rolled out of his lovely, warm, comfortable bed. The day ahead of him was looking bleaker by the minute.
********
Don had been dressed and ready to leave for the past hour even though his dad wasn’t due for another ten minutes. Despite the temptation, he didn’t just call a cab to get him home now because he’d heard the remnants of fear in his dad’s voice when they’d spoken on the phone last night. He wouldn’t relax until he’d seen Don up and around, Don knew. So he sat on the bed, counting the minutes, and gritting his teeth against the thumping in his skull. It wasn’t much better this morning than it had been last night, but at least he’d stopped wanting to throw up every five minutes. Small mercies, he guessed.
“Hey Donnie, how’re you feeling?” His dad bustled in through the doorway, and Don couldn’t help but smile at the welcome sight of his dad’s concerned face.
“I’m fine,” he said. “I didn’t need to be here overnight - it’s just a bump on the head.”
His father did not agree. “You were shot.”
“Only just. His aim sucked.”
“Don - stop it.” His dad took him by the arm, whether to get his attention better for the scolding he was about to deliver or whether to make sure he was really still there, Don couldn’t guess. “I know what you do every day and I’m proud of you, but can you please stop joking about this? If you hadn’t been wearing your vest…. David tells me there were bullets in yours and in Colby’s. It scares me.”
“Dad, that’s why we wear them. I’m all right, I promise. They - wait, what? Colby got hit?”
“Just his vest. Apparently he got you under cover when you got shot.”
“Yeah, yeah, I remember that, I think.” He remembered fragments, anyway; the deafening sound of gunfire from every direction, and strong hands dragging him as everything around him blurred.
He shook his head, and immediately regretted doing so.
“I need to swing by the office on the way home,” he said.
“That’s not a good idea, Don. The doctor said you need to rest and take things easy for a few days.”
“Just for a few minutes.” And he really shouldn’t do this, he knew it, but if playing on his dad’s sympathies was what it took…. “I want to make sure the rest of the team are okay after yesterday.”
“Ten minutes,” his dad said.
Don refrained from nodding this time. Ten minutes would be enough.
Silence descended on the previously busy bullpen as he walked in. He knew this reaction all too well: an agent injured on duty reminded every single one of them how closely the same thing stalked them. He knew in a few days time it would be forgotten and all would be back to normal, but for now it was disconcerting.
The only people who were natural with him were the team, Liz giving him a quick hug - which was surely against office harassment guidelines - while David’s wide smile was followed almost immediately by a frown as he obviously realised Don had turned up some days earlier than expected.
“Good to have you back, boss.” Nikki greeted him with a grin that she couldn’t seem to keep off her face, and Colby nodded at him from his desk, his eyes giving the same message loud and clear.
“David, I need the reports on yesterday’s shooting.”
David passed them over, and the bullpen slowly returned to something approaching its usual atmosphere of people working hard and not getting caught up in other people’s business.
“Eppes.” Don started and looked up to find Ian hitching a hip onto Don’s desk. “I didn’t think you were back for a few days yet.”
“Just trying to find out what the hell went on yesterday,” Don said.
Don flicked his eyes back down to David’s statement, seeing what he’d written about Don going down, about how he and Liz and Nikki had laid down covering fire while -
“Granger!”
Colby’s head jerked up.
“War room. Now.”
Don strode - he most definitely did not limp - to the war room. As soon as he heard the door close behind Colby he swung round to face him - and okay, that fucking hurt and he wouldn’t be doing that again for a while. He glared in Colby’s general direction while he waited for the dizziness to ease and his vision to clear. Once it did, he could see that Colby was looking a little apprehensive. Good.
“I’ve just read David’s report from yesterday,” he said, voice low with anger. “What the hell did you think you were doing out there?”
“My job?” Colby was looking more confused with every passing minute, and that stoked Don’s fury.
“What the fuck were you thinking, Granger, breaking cover and running into the kill zone like that? How could you be so fucking stupid?”
Colby’s face froze in shock at Don’s tone, which was calculated to flay him.
“I expected better than that from you.” Don’s disappointed gaze flicked over him. “Doing shit like that you’re a goddamn liability.”
Colby stiffened even further, and Don turned away. He couldn’t bring himself to look at Granger right now.
“Get out.”
He heard the door open, and before it had closed again he reached for it, needing to get out of the place before he lost it completely. Edgerton’s voice reached his ears, as Don suspected it was intended to, just as he turned towards the elevators.
“What Don means to say is thank you very much, and you scared the crap out of him.”
If he’d thought Edgerton would have taken it from him, Don would have turned round then and there and given him hell for not capturing Marriott months ago, for letting the whole clusterfuck happen in the first place.
He stabbed at the button for the first floor, and when the doors didn’t shut he stabbed at it again. They started to close, but not quickly enough to prevent him seeing across the floor to where David and Liz were standing with an expressionless Granger. Liz looked back at Don and their eyes held until the doors slid shut. She had no right, damn it, no fucking right to look at him like that.
**
His dad had been unhappy about leaving Don on his own but after he’d seen Don take his painkillers and gotten him set up on the couch with his leg propped up on the coffee table, his phone, television remote, a sandwich and a glass of water in easy reach, he’d reluctantly accepted Don’s decision that he was staying in his apartment, and left. Which was just as well; Don might love his dad but the last thing he needed right now was somebody looking at him in that knowing way that his dad was such a master at and that he’d been doing ever since Don had gotten back into the car at the office. He didn’t know what it was that his father saw when he did that, but he thought that was probably the point. It was the ‘I know everything so you might as well tell me’ approach that worked so well in breaking down suspects in interrogation.
He was feeling calmer now, or at least slightly less furious. Colby had done something so idiotic it still made his chest constrict with rage to think of how badly, appallingly wrong it could have gone, but at least he wouldn’t be pulling something like that again in a hurry. One thing you could say about Don Eppes: nobody ever forgot a chewing out from him. Nikki was still over-compensating around him after the last one he’d given her, but it was the only way she’d learn. He was looking out for her, keeping her safe, just like he was with Colby. Don knew - hell, they all knew - there was no such thing as safe when you were an agent on active duty. Trying too hard to stay safe almost guaranteed that you, or somebody else, would end up hurt or dead. But there was a difference between accepting unavoidable risks and being reckless the way Nikki had been in her desire to impress, and the way Colby had been in his need to - to do what, Don wasn’t entirely sure, just that it had been reckless and stupid.
Don tried hard not to think about how else this might have gone down, what it would have done to his father if he’d ended up with a bullet rather than a planter in his forehead. He remembered what Bradford had said - he remembered too many of the uncomfortable things Bradford had said, for that matter, but this one made sense - about it being what you did before you went down that mattered. And Don had a team he was damn proud of to leave as his legacy. He and Charlie were friends now, against all expectations.
If - when - it was his time, he guessed there wasn’t that much he’d regret. Except the whole relationship thing. That was something he sucked at so hard and he didn’t know why. He’d tried. Tried too often, if the reputation he’d gotten for himself was anything to go by, but each time he thought, or at least hoped, that this time it would be different and that it would work. And each and every time he ended up realising that it wasn’t different and it wouldn’t work, because there were always demands and expectations that left him feeling backed into a corner.
He must have dozed off - the doctor had warned him he’d be sleepier than usual for the next few days - because he came to with a jerk when there was a sharp rapping on the apartment door. Sighing, he went over to open it, finding that the painkillers seemed to have improved things a bit in both his head and his leg. That was just as well because he found himself backing up into his apartment a lot more quickly than he’d anticipated, a furious Colby right in his face.
“You do not get to do that at the office where I can’t go back at you.”
Don had only ever known one way to meet an attack, and that was to attack straight back. “I’m your boss, Colby, like it or not. There are times I have to call you out, and when you do something that stupid, you deserve it.”
“So if it had been David - who incidentally was about three seconds behind me in going after you - you’d have said the same thing?”
“Yes. It was the wrong call to make and you know it.” Anger surged in Don as he challenged Colby to deny the truth.
“You’d have told him he was a liability?”
Oh for God’s sake… “Yes.”
Colby said nothing but he held Don’s gaze, and the innate fairness that all Don’s time in the Bureau had failed to beat out of him won through.
“Ah, damn it, Colby, no - no I wouldn’t have said that.” He ran his hand impatiently through his hair. “But you can’t do that, put yourself out there like that.”
“We do it every day, Don.”
At Colby’s reasonable tone rage licked through him, until he was almost vibrating with it. He wanted nothing more than to grab Colby and shake some sense into that thick fucking skull of his. “You think I don’t know that?” he snapped, his fists clenching. “But not like that.”
“Not for you, you mean? You think I could have left you lying out there?”
Colby’s voice was so raw that Don sat down on the couch rather than look at him.
“Hey,” Colby crouched in front of him, forcing Don’s eyes to meet his. “I’m careful, Don, you know that. You’re careful. But sometimes shit just happens, and you do the best you can. And I knew Ian had our backs.” He paused, then asked, “What would you have done if it had been another member of the team? What if it had been David or Liz or me?”
“Don’t you dare say that,” Don snarled at him, his hands coming up to push him away but ending up fisting into his shirt, holding him there, refusing to let him get away with this. “Don’t you fucking dare.”
Colby was doing that stupid, stupid non-expression thing with his face that he did sometimes. “It could have happened that way,” he said. “You know it could.”
“No.” Don let go of him as if he were toxic. Because he was not going there - he was not thinking of Colby lying out in the open like that, down and defenceless
“You shouldn’t have done it,” was what he said, and fuck, even he knew it sounded weak, but Colby was being so fucking reasonable it left Don with nowhere to go. He needed Colby to get angry again, needed him to push back at Don so he could make him see.
“You let everyone down back there,” he accused Colby. “Your job was to take down Marriott, not to run round trying to be some sort of wannabe hero.”
Colby sat back on his heels then, and Don felt a brief stab of guilt because instead of the anger he was aiming for, he could see obvious hurt in Colby’s eyes before Colby dropped his gaze.
“So if it had been any one of us, you’d have left us there,” Colby said quietly. “Good to know.”
The defeat and the regret in his voice sliced Don apart.
“No, Colby - no, I wouldn’t - oh, fuck it.”
He buried his face in his hands, frustration and anger and pain swirling until he no longer knew which way was up. If he weren’t so fucking exhausted, if he could just think, he could explain it, make sure Colby got it.
He heard Colby sigh, and then his hand curved over Don’s bowed neck and came to rest, warm and reassuring.
“I don’t get it,” Colby said. “Why’s it different for you? Why can’t I do the same thing for you that you would for any of us?”
“Because I can’t lose you.” Desperate words he’d never meant to say but couldn’t take back, and now he couldn’t even breathe properly but they still spilled out of him. “I can’t do that, Colby. I can’t.”
Colby’s hand tightened for an instant on his neck and Don let himself be drawn forward until his face was hidden against Colby’s broad shoulder, where he was safe.
Colby’s fingers threaded through his hair, providing an obscure sort of comfort. Don drew long shuddering breaths, hands twisting into Colby’s shirt, fighting to regain control over whatever it was that was tearing loose inside him. “I need you,” he said into Colby’s shoulder, his voice tight and choked.
He thought he might just fly apart under it all but then Colby’s hand was cupping the back of his head, holding him close, grounding him. “Me too,” he said softly.
Colby stayed like that, solid and warm and there, and Don’s breathing finally steadied, and his death-grip on Colby’s shirt slackened as the beginnings of self-consciousness stirred. At the first hint of a change, Colby let him go but he didn’t move, meaning that unless Don was going to pretend that nothing had just happened, he was left with no option but to meet Colby’s gaze as he raised his head. There was a clarity in Colby’s eyes that Don couldn’t remember seeing before. Don had no idea what Colby might be seeing in return.
Don rubbed his hands briefly over his face. “Fuck it,” he said, “I need to get some sleep. You staying?”
Colby didn’t answer instantly, and Don’s breath caught. It hadn’t occurred to him that Colby might say no.
Then Colby was nodding almost imperceptibly. “Yeah,” he said. “I’m staying.”
********
Colby knelt in front of Don, who had ended up sitting on the bed. He took off Don’s shoes and socks, then got him to stand up while he eased his pants down over the dressing on his leg. Don took off his shirt and the bruising on his chest was spectacular enough that Colby hesitated before pulling his own shirt off in front of Don, and then decided that if Don was going to give him any more grief about it he’d rather get it over and done with now. As it turned out, Don said nothing.
Colby closed the blinds, throwing the room into restful near-darkness, and joined Don in bed. He was careful not to risk knocking Don’s injured leg as he did so but Don showed no such restraint, pulling Colby close to him and holding him there. Pressed against him like this, Colby could feel that Don’s heart was beating more quickly than it should be. But that was fine, because Colby’s might not have been quite steady right now either.
They held each other close and Colby closed his eyes as he listened to Don’s soft breathing and felt his warmth, and the strength of his arms holding Colby. And in the privacy of the dark Colby whispered words like alive and want and need against Don’s skin, his fingers tracing the path his breath had taken. Don left his own trail of quiet words branding Colby’s body, please and stay and you, and the tight unhappiness that Colby had been living with for so long began to ease.
He woke some time later to Don’s sleepy kisses on his skin. Colby knew that in a while they’d have to get up and face the daylight and the world, but right now, here, it was like catching that perfect wave.
********