The Weight of a Nickel
The tiny silver coin feels thinner but heavier between his fingers than usual. He traces the familiar line of the president’s head - Thomas Jefferson, he looked it up when he got it - and wonders, not for the first time these past years what he had done to deserve the small token. He never parts from it even if he never quite understood why a British soldier would give a nickel to a British cadet. The question had been on his tongue many times since his graduation from Sandhurst but the chance never quite presented itself.
He hadn’t seen the other man in years until today. He had been hoping for a short note at least when he was made captain but in vain. He should have known, really, Captain Ross had never been a man of too many words. Neither praise nor reproach often left his lips, having better ways of showing his opinion: a sharp look was enough to scare anyone, while a firm handshake spoke of truer appreciation than a thousand words.
It had been too much of a surprise to see his mentor (how the captain would hate the word) and friend (?) raising his weapon, prepared to shoot if Johnson gave the order. After seeing Wilder among her men, it really shouldn’t have taken Becker by surprise to meet Captain Ross too, but it did, though not as much as the unfamiliar hard edge of the captain’s features. So much must have happened since they parted ways.
Becker can’t help but wonder how many men Captain Ross had lost in Johnson’s service - those cold dark eyes said too many, but the smallest hint of a nod as Becker lowered his weapon was just like in old days. Those first words spoken in a familiar voice still ring in Becker’s ears, making him smile. We really don’t want to kill you. Everybody laughed at his expense, but Becker could tell it was no joke. Tell them the truth and they’ll never believe it, the captain had said once, and Becker never forgot his rare advices.
“Everything ok?”
Becker quickly slips the nickel in his pocket as Cutter sits down next to him on the locker room bench. He shrugs nonchalantly and raises his eyebrows slightly.
“Of course. Why wouldn’t it be?”
“You looked lost in thought.”
“You’re not the only one allowed to brood, you know,” Becker smiles in amusement at the other man.
“Does it look that bad on me, too?” Cutter laughs, allowing himself to finally let go of all the stress of the day.
“Ten times worse, actually,” Becker says, with a completely straight face but funnily dancing eyebrows which make Cutter laugh again as he stands up, stretching his sore muscles on his way to the door. He turns back again, though, before he closes it behind himself.
“We’re going out for a drink with the team. Would you care to join us?” He asks. “I think some of Lyle’s and Rya-your men are coming too.”
Becker is tempted to say yes, to use this opportunity for securing his position, making friends among his incredibly annoying protégés, but he just shakes his head.
“Maybe another time.”
“Why not now?”
Because I’m screwing your wife and she can’t fall asleep when she’s alone. The sentence is on his tongue and he can barely hold it back. Tell them the truth and they’ll never believe it, something in him makes him want to test if it’s true.
“It’s been a long day,” he says finally.
“Tell me about it. I’m hurting all over.”
“All this running around is getting too much for you, old man.”
For a moment Cutter’s eyes harden and he has to look away. Becker almost thinks he has gone too far, but the slow, sad smile the other man finally gives tells him there’s nothing to worry about. He’s not sure what he had said, what memories he unconsciously triggered and he doesn’t actually want to know. Helen’s nightmares are more than enough for him, thank you very much.
“Ever thought of retiring?” he adds quickly, hoping the joke would stop Cutter from trying to confide in him.
“You wish.” Cutter grins and after a last moment of hesitation walks out of the locker room.
Once alone Becker takes the coin out of his pocket again. He can’t help thinking how much more dramatic this moment would be if the nickel had saved his life at some point these past years. As it is, it’s just a coin from someone he once knew, the meaning of which he would probably never find out. He runs his fingers through his hair and it’s then that he senses he’s not alone.
“Stop lurking, Parker, and come in.”
This time he doesn’t bother hiding the coin even as Parker’s eyes fall on it as soon as he enters the room. There would be no use.
“I’m sorry.”
Becker just shrugs.
“I… called his wife.”
“It wasn’t your responsibility.”
“No.”
They fall silent, enjoying the comfortable familiarity of no words needed. Becker watches the coin, Parker watches Becker. He puts a comforting hand on the captain’s leg and Becker longs to acknowledge the presence of the other man’s warmth but doesn’t move. After long moments the hand is pulled back with a small sigh.
“She invited me to their daughter’s christening.”
“Are you going?” Becker asks quietly.
“You should come too.”
“I don’t think I could get away from here.” Becker says quickly, standing up, putting his jacket on, ready to leave and end the discussion. Parker just nods, clearly knowing he shouldn’t press the matter.
“You coming for a drink too? I hear everybody’s going to be there.”
“No, I’m heading home.”
“Someone waiting for you?” Parker smiles, his face lighting up. “Girlfriend?”
“Sort of,” Becker shrugs, wishing to god he knew how to answer that question properly. “Have fun Parker,” he adds with a smile of his own as he walks out of the locker room, shaking his head at Parker’s “You too, Becker”, wishing it was that simple.