NEW! "Hazard Pay - Chapter Eleven"
Title: Hazard Pay - Chapter Eleven
Pairing: Noah/OMC
Rating: M
Prompt: Action!Noah in action ripped from the headlines!
Disclaimer: Don’t own ‘em. Don’t make no money.
link
Thanks for all the great comments, ya’ll! This disaster comes in two parts - hope to have the next part up soon.
***
Hazard Pay - Chapter 11
Later that week, after the fighting had died down temporarily, Noah sat against the stone wall in the evening, cleaning his camera gear. It was something he did meticulously twice a day, even though he knew he was fighting a losing battle against the sand.
A shadow fell over his legs, and he looked up, squinting into the setting sun.
The figured moved, blocking the light, and Noah saw the red-haired kid from the chopper. The patch on his uniform read “Murphy.” He was accompanied by an older-looking kid -- handsome, Latino, his dark hair shaved close -- whose name badge read “Lopez.”
“Hey,” Noah said, for lack of a better greeting. Soldiers didn’t usually talk to him.
Murphy continued to stare, until Lopez nudged him.
“Uh, hey,” he said, then fell silent again.
“Something I can do for you?” Noah asked finally.
“Uh, yeah. Could you, like, take my picture, I mean make a video, I mean film me sayin’ hey to my girl Janelle back home?” The last part came out in a rush.
“I’m not really supposed to do that,” Noah said reluctantly. Part of being embedded -- the part Jeff called “censorship” -- meant only interviewing pre-approved soldiers who were “on message.”
Murphy looked like someone just kicked his puppy. Noah felt like a heel.
“It would really mean a lot,” Murphy wheedled, “‘cause she’s pregnant and all and we’re gettin’ married soon as I get home and the baby’s due any day...”
“Well...” Noah rubbed his neck, feeling even worse.
Fortunately, Lopez nudged Murphy again, and when the kid looked at him, frowned and nodded at Noah.
“Oh!” Murphy scrabbled in his pockets while Lopez rolled his eyes, finally coming up with a half-empty pack of cigarettes. He held it out to Noah.
“What else you got?” Noah asked, automatically falling in to barter mode.
The kid turned to Lopez, eyes pleading.
“Uh uh. No way, guero.”
“Come on, man,” Murphy hissed. “I’ll pay you back. Swear to God.”
“Jesus.” Lopez rolled his eyes again, but reached in his pocket and pulled out a brand-new toothbrush, still in its plastic packaging.
“Sweet!” Jeff would love it. Noah grabbed the toothbrush and shoved it in his camera case along with the cigarettes. “You got a deal.”
He glanced around. A line of tanks were set up along the road, being maintenanced. But he spotted an olive tree in the corner of the square, the only remnant of a small orchard.
“Let’s set up over there,” he suggested.
“Cool.” Murphy took off his helmet and walked over to the tree, running ran a hand through his short-but-thick hair. “How do I look?” he asked Lopez.
“Like a pussy.”
“Ha, ha.”
“Seriously, man. I ate out some red-headed pussy in Chicago, looked just like your hair.”
Murphy blushed as red as his locks. “Dude! Shut up!”
Lopez cackled as Noah placed his camera and checked the light.
“Five minutes, no more,” he warned. “Here we go."
He ended up letting Murphy ramble on for seven minutes. There was something about the raw innocence of the young soldier sitting in the shade of the gnarled, ancient tree. The light of the setting sun, filtered through the dusty green of the olive branches, softened the sand-colored hues of his uniform, while the breeze that caressed the desert every evening rattled the leaves overhead.
Noah shivered and reluctantly gave Murphy the “wrap it up” signal. Murphy nodded and took a deep breath.
“Uh, anyway, don’t you worry about me. Uncle Sam is kicking ass and taking names out here. Ain’t nothing gonna touch me. I’ll be home before you know it. I can’t wait to hold our precious little girl in our arms. This next part is to her,” he whispered to Noah, who gave him a thumbs up and zoomed in.
Murphy leaned closer to the camera. “Hey, baby girl. This is your daddy talking. You take real good care of your mama, you hear? I can’t wait to meet you.” His eyes filled and his lip trembled, but he managed to pull himself together and give a victory sign to the camera. “Love you both.”
“And...we’re out,” Noah said, lowering his camera. “That okay?”
“Awesome, dude! Thanks a bunch!” Grinning from ear to ear, Murphy enthusiastically shook Noah’s hand, jauntily replaced his helmet, and walked off with a spring in his step.
Watching him go, Noah felt like he might as well have a target on his back.
“Jesus Christ,” he said wearily.
“Tell me about it.”
Noah turned. He’d forgotten Lopez was there.
“Jesus Christ,” Noah said again. “If this was an old movie...”
Lopez nodded, then made a gun out of his fingers, pointed it at Murphy, and fired. “Ker-pow.”
“Right?” Shaking his head, Noah stowed his camera and pulled out the cigarettes.
On impulse, he offered one to Lopez, who looked at Noah suspiciously, then shrugged.
“Your loss,” he said.
He leaned closer so Noah could light it. Then they both relaxed against the wall, watching Murphy walk away among the tanks, waving a cheerful greeting to the soldiers working on them.
Lopez spoke through his cigarette. “Ten to one that baby ain’t even his.”
Noah glanced at him in surprise. “You think?”
Lopez nodded. “Says he doesn’t remember the night they did it, that he was too drunk.” He inhaled a long drag. “Baby girl stepped out on him and now she’s trying to pass it off as his. Can’t say I really blame her. A soldier means a pension. But I got ten bucks says that baby ain’t gonna have no red hair.” He cackled again and exhaled a long stream of smoke.
“Shit.” Noah felt the sudden weight of depression. He leaned back against the wall, which was still warm from the sun, and twisted his neck to get the kinks out. The breeze kicked up again, and he shivered, rubbing his arms. “Where you from?’ he asked, trying to break his mood.
“Chicago. You?”
“All over. Army brat.” He nodded toward his camera gear, feeling generous. “You got anyone you wanna say hey to back home?” he asked. “Any family?”
Lopez flicked his cigarette away, watching its red tip arc briefly against the growing darkness and then disappear. “Nope.” His tone forbade any questions.
Noah nodded, sorry he had asked. He caught a flash of white and glimpsed Jeff walking through line of the tanks, his shirt tugged by the breeze.
Jeff saw Noah and gave him the standard masculine chin-jerk “Whassup?” greeting they always used in public. Noah gave him their standard masculine two-fingered wave in reply.
Jeff spotted the cigarette between Noah’s fingers and frowned.
Noah deliberately put the cigarette to his mouth and took an extra-long draw through pursed lips, until the glowing tip flared red. Noah exhaled through his nose for effect, then grinned.
Jeff smothered a smile and walked off into the shadows
The entire exchange had taken less than thirty seconds, but Noah felt his mood lift.
“Reporter guy looks pissed,” Lopez observed. Once again, Noah had forgotten he was there.
Noah cursed himself for his lapse and ground out his cigarette underfoot. “He wants to get closer to the fighting,” he said, trying to sound offhand and brusque. “Brass won’t let him.”
“Huh.”
Noah, busying himself with his camera gear, looked up. “Any chance you could...”
Lopez shrugged, his expression unreadable in the growing gloom. He pushed off from the wall and held out his hand.
“Thanks for the smoke, uh...”
Noah shook it firmly. “Noah,” he said. “Noah Mayer.”
Lopez smiled suddenly. His teeth were strong and white. “I’m Arturo,” he said. He hoisted his rifle over his shoulder and walked away.
“I’ll see what I can do,” he called back over his shoulder.
***
True to his word, Lopez found Noah in the mess six days later. He was in full battle gear.
“We’re heading out on patrol if you want to join us,” he said casually.
Noah froze, cup of crappy Army coffee halfway to his mouth. “Are you serious?”
“Wouldn’t ask if I wasn’t. You interested?”
“Shit, yeah.” Noah gulped the rest of his coffee, ignoring the scalding burn, then scrambled to his feet and grabbed his gear. “Lemme tell my-”
“Just you,” Lopez said.
Noah stopped and looked at him. “Huh?”
“Not your...partner.” Lopez’ eyes flickered a little on the word. “Just you.”
Noah hesitated. He knew Jeff would be pissed if he went without him. But the opportunity was too damn good to pass up.
Besides, Noah figured, if he got some decent footage, Jeff could always add his narration later on. But Noah should probably leave him some sort of message...
Lopez turned and walked away. “You coming or not, Mayer?” he called back.
Noah made a split second decision.
Get the shot now, worry about the rest later.
“Coming!” he said, and hustled after him.
***
To be continued...
Pairing: Noah/OMC
Rating: M
Prompt: Action!Noah in action ripped from the headlines!
Disclaimer: Don’t own ‘em. Don’t make no money.
link
Thanks for all the great comments, ya’ll! This disaster comes in two parts - hope to have the next part up soon.
***
Hazard Pay - Chapter 11
Later that week, after the fighting had died down temporarily, Noah sat against the stone wall in the evening, cleaning his camera gear. It was something he did meticulously twice a day, even though he knew he was fighting a losing battle against the sand.
A shadow fell over his legs, and he looked up, squinting into the setting sun.
The figured moved, blocking the light, and Noah saw the red-haired kid from the chopper. The patch on his uniform read “Murphy.” He was accompanied by an older-looking kid -- handsome, Latino, his dark hair shaved close -- whose name badge read “Lopez.”
“Hey,” Noah said, for lack of a better greeting. Soldiers didn’t usually talk to him.
Murphy continued to stare, until Lopez nudged him.
“Uh, hey,” he said, then fell silent again.
“Something I can do for you?” Noah asked finally.
“Uh, yeah. Could you, like, take my picture, I mean make a video, I mean film me sayin’ hey to my girl Janelle back home?” The last part came out in a rush.
“I’m not really supposed to do that,” Noah said reluctantly. Part of being embedded -- the part Jeff called “censorship” -- meant only interviewing pre-approved soldiers who were “on message.”
Murphy looked like someone just kicked his puppy. Noah felt like a heel.
“It would really mean a lot,” Murphy wheedled, “‘cause she’s pregnant and all and we’re gettin’ married soon as I get home and the baby’s due any day...”
“Well...” Noah rubbed his neck, feeling even worse.
Fortunately, Lopez nudged Murphy again, and when the kid looked at him, frowned and nodded at Noah.
“Oh!” Murphy scrabbled in his pockets while Lopez rolled his eyes, finally coming up with a half-empty pack of cigarettes. He held it out to Noah.
“What else you got?” Noah asked, automatically falling in to barter mode.
The kid turned to Lopez, eyes pleading.
“Uh uh. No way, guero.”
“Come on, man,” Murphy hissed. “I’ll pay you back. Swear to God.”
“Jesus.” Lopez rolled his eyes again, but reached in his pocket and pulled out a brand-new toothbrush, still in its plastic packaging.
“Sweet!” Jeff would love it. Noah grabbed the toothbrush and shoved it in his camera case along with the cigarettes. “You got a deal.”
He glanced around. A line of tanks were set up along the road, being maintenanced. But he spotted an olive tree in the corner of the square, the only remnant of a small orchard.
“Let’s set up over there,” he suggested.
“Cool.” Murphy took off his helmet and walked over to the tree, running ran a hand through his short-but-thick hair. “How do I look?” he asked Lopez.
“Like a pussy.”
“Ha, ha.”
“Seriously, man. I ate out some red-headed pussy in Chicago, looked just like your hair.”
Murphy blushed as red as his locks. “Dude! Shut up!”
Lopez cackled as Noah placed his camera and checked the light.
“Five minutes, no more,” he warned. “Here we go."
He ended up letting Murphy ramble on for seven minutes. There was something about the raw innocence of the young soldier sitting in the shade of the gnarled, ancient tree. The light of the setting sun, filtered through the dusty green of the olive branches, softened the sand-colored hues of his uniform, while the breeze that caressed the desert every evening rattled the leaves overhead.
Noah shivered and reluctantly gave Murphy the “wrap it up” signal. Murphy nodded and took a deep breath.
“Uh, anyway, don’t you worry about me. Uncle Sam is kicking ass and taking names out here. Ain’t nothing gonna touch me. I’ll be home before you know it. I can’t wait to hold our precious little girl in our arms. This next part is to her,” he whispered to Noah, who gave him a thumbs up and zoomed in.
Murphy leaned closer to the camera. “Hey, baby girl. This is your daddy talking. You take real good care of your mama, you hear? I can’t wait to meet you.” His eyes filled and his lip trembled, but he managed to pull himself together and give a victory sign to the camera. “Love you both.”
“And...we’re out,” Noah said, lowering his camera. “That okay?”
“Awesome, dude! Thanks a bunch!” Grinning from ear to ear, Murphy enthusiastically shook Noah’s hand, jauntily replaced his helmet, and walked off with a spring in his step.
Watching him go, Noah felt like he might as well have a target on his back.
“Jesus Christ,” he said wearily.
“Tell me about it.”
Noah turned. He’d forgotten Lopez was there.
“Jesus Christ,” Noah said again. “If this was an old movie...”
Lopez nodded, then made a gun out of his fingers, pointed it at Murphy, and fired. “Ker-pow.”
“Right?” Shaking his head, Noah stowed his camera and pulled out the cigarettes.
On impulse, he offered one to Lopez, who looked at Noah suspiciously, then shrugged.
“Your loss,” he said.
He leaned closer so Noah could light it. Then they both relaxed against the wall, watching Murphy walk away among the tanks, waving a cheerful greeting to the soldiers working on them.
Lopez spoke through his cigarette. “Ten to one that baby ain’t even his.”
Noah glanced at him in surprise. “You think?”
Lopez nodded. “Says he doesn’t remember the night they did it, that he was too drunk.” He inhaled a long drag. “Baby girl stepped out on him and now she’s trying to pass it off as his. Can’t say I really blame her. A soldier means a pension. But I got ten bucks says that baby ain’t gonna have no red hair.” He cackled again and exhaled a long stream of smoke.
“Shit.” Noah felt the sudden weight of depression. He leaned back against the wall, which was still warm from the sun, and twisted his neck to get the kinks out. The breeze kicked up again, and he shivered, rubbing his arms. “Where you from?’ he asked, trying to break his mood.
“Chicago. You?”
“All over. Army brat.” He nodded toward his camera gear, feeling generous. “You got anyone you wanna say hey to back home?” he asked. “Any family?”
Lopez flicked his cigarette away, watching its red tip arc briefly against the growing darkness and then disappear. “Nope.” His tone forbade any questions.
Noah nodded, sorry he had asked. He caught a flash of white and glimpsed Jeff walking through line of the tanks, his shirt tugged by the breeze.
Jeff saw Noah and gave him the standard masculine chin-jerk “Whassup?” greeting they always used in public. Noah gave him their standard masculine two-fingered wave in reply.
Jeff spotted the cigarette between Noah’s fingers and frowned.
Noah deliberately put the cigarette to his mouth and took an extra-long draw through pursed lips, until the glowing tip flared red. Noah exhaled through his nose for effect, then grinned.
Jeff smothered a smile and walked off into the shadows
The entire exchange had taken less than thirty seconds, but Noah felt his mood lift.
“Reporter guy looks pissed,” Lopez observed. Once again, Noah had forgotten he was there.
Noah cursed himself for his lapse and ground out his cigarette underfoot. “He wants to get closer to the fighting,” he said, trying to sound offhand and brusque. “Brass won’t let him.”
“Huh.”
Noah, busying himself with his camera gear, looked up. “Any chance you could...”
Lopez shrugged, his expression unreadable in the growing gloom. He pushed off from the wall and held out his hand.
“Thanks for the smoke, uh...”
Noah shook it firmly. “Noah,” he said. “Noah Mayer.”
Lopez smiled suddenly. His teeth were strong and white. “I’m Arturo,” he said. He hoisted his rifle over his shoulder and walked away.
“I’ll see what I can do,” he called back over his shoulder.
***
True to his word, Lopez found Noah in the mess six days later. He was in full battle gear.
“We’re heading out on patrol if you want to join us,” he said casually.
Noah froze, cup of crappy Army coffee halfway to his mouth. “Are you serious?”
“Wouldn’t ask if I wasn’t. You interested?”
“Shit, yeah.” Noah gulped the rest of his coffee, ignoring the scalding burn, then scrambled to his feet and grabbed his gear. “Lemme tell my-”
“Just you,” Lopez said.
Noah stopped and looked at him. “Huh?”
“Not your...partner.” Lopez’ eyes flickered a little on the word. “Just you.”
Noah hesitated. He knew Jeff would be pissed if he went without him. But the opportunity was too damn good to pass up.
Besides, Noah figured, if he got some decent footage, Jeff could always add his narration later on. But Noah should probably leave him some sort of message...
Lopez turned and walked away. “You coming or not, Mayer?” he called back.
Noah made a split second decision.
Get the shot now, worry about the rest later.
“Coming!” he said, and hustled after him.
***
To be continued...