Original Stories Fan Fiction ❯ All I Have ❯ White Shadows ( Chapter 6 )

[ Y - Young Adult: Not suitable for readers under 16 ]

: White Shadows :

That night, Andy and the others headed back to base and signed their guns to the clerks that automatically took stock of their registered weapon. Along with the androids that documented every registered record of their weapon and supply use, the clerks left them with their hovering cases of weapon holders. Heading toward the locker rooms where they would then change out of their uniforms and sign them over to the clerks that handled their care, Andy found himself pausing by the monitors that displayed every unit working the streets and air of New Park.

58's status blinked `Active' on the South Side's main party district, Andy scrunching up his brow as he wondered if Adam took part in such a lifestyle. He couldn't imagine the guy parking himself in some club, buying expensive drink after expensive drink and deliberating in club activities; he could only picture Adam drinking bottled water and sulking in some corner of a bar while his best friend hit on available ladies. It bothered him that a man would pine after someone unattainable when it made more sense to pine after someone that was immediately available.

Then again, Andy felt himself unsure in whether or not he was over-exaggerating a dream; for he definitely did not know Adam's orientation. Second-guessing himself, he wondered why he even thought Adam pined after Ian; maybe he was just embellishing simple brotherly affection.

“You zoning out, blondie?” Ken asked him, stripping off his protective vest. “What'chu looking at?”

“Nothing.”

“Got all quiet after that attack.”

“It wasn't an `attack',” Andy said in exasperation, removing his own vest and continuing into the locker room, where several other squads were either removing their uniforms for check-in, or signing them out. It rang with male voices and shouts, the smell of the showers catching his interest. He felt dirty, lifting his arm to sniff his sleeve, trying to catch the scent of death.

Ken snorted and continued on towards his locker, where Paul was busy bragging to others that would listen on what they found. Andy changed out of his uniform and considered the maroon scrubs that hung in his locker. As he reached for the top shirt, he found himself looking at his hand. His mind blanked over as he stared at it, turning it over to gaze vacantly at his palm. It seemed to warm, a twitch of his memory causing an uncomfortable irritation that made him wince. It felt as if he were trying to remember something, only to find that simple notion intense, as if caught by some heavy weight. With a frown, he touched his casual clothes and changed into them, figuring he'd avoid the med building for the night.

After checking in his uniform, where the clerks behind the open window would examine, clean and repair the suit for optimal working condition, he left the locker room. His hand still felt warm, and he wiped it on his jeans in absent action, pausing by the monitors once more. Seeing that 58 still had a few more hours out on the streets, Andy thinned his lips and resolved himself to see Adam later.

As he was walking away from main headquarters, on the lookout for a cab to take him home, he happened to glance up at the activity sign that was programmed to display various notices to military personnel near the front entrance. A short memo for everyone to remember physical examinations that were due the twenty-sixth changed swiftly into something else that made him pause, performing a double take as his full name registered in red.

He turned on the sidewalk to gape at the sign, blinking repeatedly as he wondered if his mind or if someone were playing tricks on him.

`Are You Reading This?' it read, blinking once in red, as if prompting him to answer.

Gaping, Andy glanced around himself, looking at everyone that was walking the neat cement stairs, the business quad. There were a couple of older men looking at the same thing he was, but they began talking about an upcoming council election in the city. No one was wondering aloud why the sign became so personal and unprofessional. Thinking he was just overtired, hallucinating things, Andy rubbed at his eyes and looked at the sign again.

`Where Are You Going, Andy Murphy? Back Home?' it read, blinking again. He felt entirely compelled to answer aloud. `Alone?'

He then looked around himself once more. Seeing the twins emerge from the building, involved in yet another argument, he called for their attention. Paul waved him off and went off hailing for a cab; irritated, Ken hurried over, smelling heavy of some cologne and wearing street clothes fit for a night out.

“What now?” he asked, looking at the sign when Andy pointed at it. “What about the blood drive? I ain't giving my time to that. People kin just make it nowadays.”

“It…” Andy trailed off, seeing nothing about a blood drive. He only saw `Alone?' repeat itself over and over again.

“Are you trippin'?” Ken asked him impatiently, forcing him to turn his head to look at his face. Andy jerked away. “Did that thing do something to you? Mebbe you should just check yourself into that there med building and get yourself checked out. You acting all strange.”

“I'm—I'm probably just…tired.”

“I mean, what? What else can it say?”

`Come Into The City, Andy,' the sign read, blinking three times before dissolving.

Ken grabbed his hand, examining it before Andy pulled it away with a flush over unexpected contact. Even if he wasn't attracted to the other man, he was definitely attracted to the feel of harsh skin against his.

“That thing touched you. Did something to you. You better go get it checked out before you infect the lot of us with whatever it is yer trippin' on.”

“I'm not. I just…It sounds weird, but I'm not seeing what you're seeing on that sign,” Andy said, flustered as he wiped Ken's contact from his palm.

“Murphy, you dumb shit,” Ken said with a curse, turning to look at the sign. “It's reading somethin' about captains' breakfast Wednesday morning. What you think it says?”

Paul hollered for him, holding the door of a waiting cab, and Ken gave another low curse. “Get it checked out by tomorrow, Murphy, or I'm tellin' Barry you ain't followed procedure.”

“I will,” Andy murmured, wiping his palm on his jeans once more, wondering why it still felt warm. Ken gave him an indecisive look, and then hurried after Paul, both of them shouting at each other over making each other late. Andy watched them go, then looked back at the sign, which was asking him to come to an address he knew was located somewhere on the South Side. With an uncertain expression, he rubbed at his eyes again and resolved to get himself checked out, just in case he'd come across some hallucinogenic the Grey may have passed onto him.

“It was really embarrassing how you made yourself into this huge fool,” Adam said to Ian, both of them changed into casual clothing and headed for the street. The others were still changing in the locker room, Larson lingering behind to give Jensen company in case anybody wanted to start trouble. Sam had as well, all of them noticing that the medic was becoming attached to the t.o. officer. “Telling me off because of that stupid girl.”

“Look, I'm not going to fight with you over this,” Ian said, giving him a sharp look. He gave his dark blond hair an agitated run-through with his fingers, trying to rearrange the mess into something presentable. “You hate her, I get it. But I don't. I don't hate her. And what feelings that I might have aren't entirely what you think.”

“You're thinking with your fucking dick! It's disgusting! Who knew you were attracted to children, you fucking perv.”

“You're getting pissed at me for whatever! Every time we see her, you're launching yourself into some jealous shit-fit, and it really annoys me. This is stupid, Adam,” Ian snapped, shoving his hands into his jeans pockets and stalking ahead. “It says something about you, you know.”

Adam caught up to him easily, saying, “It's embarrassing. It's not a jealous shit-fit, either. It's the entirety of the thing. You don't even think straight when it comes to her. It's like she could do no such wrong, and you cover for her like some—!”

“I'm not listening to anymore of this! Other than her behavior, which she knows, which everyone knows drives you bat shit, and it's the reason why she does it, to throw you off her real agenda, there was something going on tonight, and it involves her. So get over this stupid fit over her behavior and focus on the main picture,” Ian reprimanded.

“I'm not thinking about shit. Frankly, she was on the wrong side of the border, and it made Dost nervous,” Adam said stubbornly, glaring at the busy street they were coming upon. A row of taxis, available for free for the soldiers to use to get back to their homes, waited nearby. “That's all it was. He was just prepared for anything that might happen with her being there.”

“You aren't getting it,” Ian muttered. “You aren't seeing it.”

“Then what, Ian? What was the big secret agenda the bitch had that nobody else could have seen but you? By the way, it would have made things easier if you weren't trying to catch peeks down her dress,” Adam said in disgust.

Ian shot him a similar expression, lip curled. But he closed his mouth to whatever biting comment he was going to say, jaw tensing as he looked away. Adam shoved his shoulder. “What? What were you going to say?”

“I'm not going to continue this. I'm done.”

“I'm NOT! You need to stop this shit, Ian! It's a joke!”

“A real big joke. A huge one. None of you see the façade that she puts up.”

“There you go again!” Adam cried out in exasperation. “She's a dumb girl! A dumb, sixteen year old girl with too much money, too little supervision! What's so fucking secretive and alluring about some stupid kid?!”

“Why didn't she engage into a physical altercation with the bouncer tonight?” Ian asked him. “Give me a good reason why she didn't barge her way into that bar tonight? Everyone knows right off the bat that that's what she would have done, no matter if anybody had told her `no'.”

“So what?”

“She's not afraid of people like Burke Ford. She doesn't care if Merrick has to pay for her mistakes. She doesn't care what Dost perceives of her, even if it's in Merrick's name. If she gets into a physical altercation with somebody, you know it's without a second thought. So why didn't she?”

“This is so stupid—!”

“Why didn't she pull away from you? Why didn't she run away? She knows we can't hold her, even if it took all of us to pull her down,” Ian insisted. “And why couldn't a class 5 telepath find her?”

Adam rolled his eyes and continued to walk, boiling with angry exasperation in that his best friend was so blind. While every word he said made sense, Adam felt that Ian pushed it too far tonight. Seeing him touch her, hover almost protectively over her made his gut wrench sharply. Because every time Ian touched someone else, it made Adam furious inside. Jealous and possessive, it burned at him to see Ian's eyes focused so intently on someone else. Especially someone like her.

“Adam, have you seen any pictures of her drinking recently? Has the paps ever caught her in some fistfight with some rich billionaire's son?”

Adam paused in mid-step, and gave him a cross look. Wondering why Ian spoke so heavily, his worried blue eyes staring down at the sidewalk. There was something defeated and tired in his best friend's shoulders, the way they drooped. It made him angry inside, to feel himself give in when he just wanted to be angry and boil in his own hurt.

“No. But I don't look for her specifically when it comes to shit like that,” he muttered in response.

Ian said nothing for a few moments, but then he started chewing at his bottom lip. Shoving his hands into his pockets once more, he started walking.

“It'll make more sense to the world in a few months,” Adam heard him mutter, and he felt a flare of fury burn through him. Truly incapable of what it was his best friend was saying to him in such cryptic tones, he grit his teeth and followed a few steps behind him. He glared at his slender back, wanting to reach out to touch him in some way. He wanted to grab a thinly muscled arm and yank it with enough force to make Ian pay attention to him. He didn't want Ian focused on Felicia Passage.

He wanted a physical altercation, if only to touch Ian; he wanted to fight verbally, if only to hear Ian speaking only to him. He wanted to be close enough to smell the scent of his sweat, to feel the heat coming off of him from the warm night air. His nostrils flared and his fingers curled into fists to keep from doing any such thing.

“You're going to stew about this the entire night. I think I'm going to take a walk. Alone,” Ian stressed, not looking at him.

Giving him an infuriated stare, Adam stopped following him, watching him take the crosswalk over the street, leading toward the open market district that allowed civilians nearly free reign when they were visiting military members. He had his cellphone drawn out of his pocket, texting even before he left Adam's sight.

With a shake of his head, he stalked off toward their neighborhood, figuring he'd cool down if he'd walked the long distance.

Nearly two hours later, he still wasn't feeling any better. Walking into their shared house, noting that he still beat Larson home, Adam left the lights off in the living room and made his way into the kitchen. He rummaged through the fridge for something to drink, and eyed the bottles of beer that someone must have bought recently. He was angry, frustrated and hurt, but he didn't think he was that desperate to drown it all in alcohol. He was just not the type to drink.

He snatched the gallon of milk, ripping off the top and searching for a cup. Even after that task was completed, he set the jug down and glared at the darkness in the living room. He hated stewing about things, knowing that doing so wouldn't get him anywhere. He gripped the edge of the counter and exhaled heavily, his emotions churning all throughout him. He kept seeing how Ian touched Felicia, his gloved hand resting in the middle of her back, where the material of her white dress kept his bare index and thumb from touching her skin. Adam had to admit the other man was very respectful of her, and it was hard to accept; because of the fact Ian respected her.

It irritated him straight to his core, gritting his teeth. He wouldn't feel so strongly if it were just another female, someone their age; he hadn't had too much trouble seeing Ian with some random chick, because it was apparent he didn't care too deeply for her. Men had needs; they had basic desires that needed to be attended to. Adam understood; it was just entirely different when feelings were involved.

He drank half of his poured milk before setting the cup down tightly. His throat burned, as if he'd just drunk something strong; it was hard to swallow. He could lose Ian someday, he was aware. Even if they had been friends most of their lives, there was a point where they'd walk in separate directions. And even if circumstances separated them, even if Adam finally decided to let go, Adam was positive that he'd still pine for him.

He stared down at the white liquid within his cup and felt his teeth clench.

He put the jug of milk away and grabbed his cup, intending to just hide himself in his room. To avoid contact with anybody that happened to come through that front door. Larson and the others knew he was pissed with Ian's behavior; he'd given the other man the silent treatment for the rest of their shift. They knew to stay away; even though Adam didn't take his anger out on them, it was his physical stature and his silence that made them edgy.

He didn't mean to shut them out in such a way, but all his pent-up desires and unrequited feelings left him feeling so angry in ways that he was simply accustomed to. Cooney had once made a joke over such a situation a couple of years earlier, but hadn't again after finding himself at the receiving end of a crushing glare from Adam.

His hands were shaking, he noticed, examining the one that didn't hold the half-full cup. His palms itched, and he glanced at the wall clock. He wondered when Ian would return to their home, and he wondered how to make an apology if only to settle things between them. Maybe he wouldn't win the war, but he could lose a battle here and there if only to keep Ian close to him.

He gave a low sigh, closing his eyes in frustration. Instead of heading upstairs, he flicked on one of the side lamps near the couch and sank down in the overstuffed cushions. He stared up at the ceiling and wondered what to make of himself.

He had just started to wonder the inevitable choice he would have to make when there was a soft knock at the door. Adam debated on answering it, knowing that his roommates had keys, but he glared at the lamp he'd turned on earlier. With a reluctant grunt, he shifted off the couch and went to answer it, hoping that whatever expression he was wearing would scare off any potential visitors.

Instead, when he saw Andy giving him a tentative smile, his facial features so different and so similar to Ian's, he felt something inside of him give just slightly.

Andy could feel the irritation and tension in the other man. It made him want to back up and go home, but Adam let him into the house. Feeling both nervous and quite irritated that he'd given into his own impulses, Andy shut the door behind him and tried to suppress the nervous jumping of his stomach. Once Adam's back was to him, he quickly ran his fingers through his blond hair, wanting to look presentable. His rarely worn shirt and jeans with casual shoes still smelled new, but the coloring was flattering on him. He stopped himself from worrying over his features because he started to realize how obvious it seemed.

The harried resident had given him a brief exam and check-up, noting that he hadn't been infected with anything unusual. He hadn't seen anything odd since that sign, but he was ordered to report in if he did. He had been on his way home when he'd made that fateful decision to see if Adam and the others had returned; he'd planned on just `dropping by' to see if Sam were around just to catch a glimpse of Adam. Instead, he found himself in his only company, and Andy was out of sorts.

He wanted to leave, but at the same time, something compelled him to stay. It looked as if Adam were stewing in some unsaid thing, his jaw tight and his dark eyes furious with some unidentifiable emotion; but Andy had seen something give in them when they'd focused on him. Driven to stay, he wiped his sweaty palms on his jeans and gave the now orderly house a onceover while Adam offered him something to drink. He took a beer, just to have something to do, his hands shaking and sweating over having this opportunity to do so.

“So Sam stayed with Edwards and Jensen?” he asked, Adam having told him where the younger man was. “He sounds like he's getting attached to him. Edwards, I mean.”

“Edwards has a couple of younger brothers he misses.”

“Where's Peters?” Andy asked cautiously, taking note of the furrow that seemed to deepen between Adam's eyebrows. It looked as if his jaw had twitched, and knew he'd touched on something sore.

“Out. We just got back from patrol.”

Andy caught the tone Adam had used; he knew instantly something had happened between them, and he couldn't tell whether he felt cautious or relieved about it. He watched the bigger man pour himself another cup of milk, and Andy fiddled with his bottle of beer before he juggled on the next topic to bring up.

He admired the way Adam's large fingers curled around the cup; his face flushed with other thoughts, and he quickly took a drink, thinking he'd made a mistake of showing up without other people present.

“We were in the warehouse district again, today,” he then said, glancing at him, figuring work would be a safe topic for the now. He watched as Adam glared down at the counter, realizing that the man hadn't really looked at him since he'd walked into the house. It made him wonder if Adam was deliberately avoiding eye contact because he was pissed, or if Andy himself was just embellishing the situation. “Found a bunch of dead Greys.”

Adam made a nodding motion with his head. Andy could tell he wasn't really interested in the subject, fiddling with the label of his beer bottle before saying, “Dead by psychokinetic energy. One was taken down by gunfire.”

“Warehouse district in the shipyards?” Adam repeated, glancing at him and then taking a long stare at the wall. Andy wondered why he didn't look at him, resolving himself to take in as long of a look as he could to take advantage of the moment. Adam's wavy hair was flattened by his helmet, and he had a beauty mark under the left side of his jaw. Andy wanted to know if there were others like that on Adam's body, and it took him a few moments to keep his thoughts focused on his words instead. “They blend in with the homeless there. Too many enemies to live anywhere else.”

“Barry and forensics thinks it was some activity caused by the Underworld,” Andy said, looking quickly down at his beer once he saw Adam look away from the wall. “Maybe the South Side was doing a little cleaning.”

“Possibly.”

“Or the south of the border groups.” Andy looked up and judged the expression on Adam's face. The man was still pissed. Whatever it was he was thinking about was overwhelming any chance for a conversation, but Andy decided he didn't want to leave just yet. Even as it felt uncomfortable and unbearably tense, the masochistic side of him wanted to continue just being in his vicinity. Because Adam had been in his thoughts all day.

He took a deep breath, and sat down at the table. “What's wrong?”

“Nothing.”

“You looked pissed.”

“What gave you that clue?”

“You're a scary guy,” Andy admitted. “It's no wonder people don't even try to mess with you.”

“You came over here just to comment on my fucking mood?”

“No. Did you have a hard day on patrol?”

Adam's jaw twitched again. But he finished his milk and shot Andy a look, something that made Andy rethink his masochistic tendencies. “I don't want to talk about it.”

Andy looked away, finding that he just couldn't push the man into anything more than that. Uncomfortably, he sipped at his beer and looked at the clock. It was early morning, and he knew he should be heading home for sleep. The tension was unbearable at that moment, and Andy felt discomfort in lingering. At least he had his moment, he figured. It was enough.

“Well…I should go,” he said, rising to a stand. “Thanks for the beer.”

“I…don't mean to be rude,” Adam then muttered, giving him a sideways look.

“We all have those days,” Andy said, giving a loose shrug. “Um, I guess I'll just try and catch Sam some other way.”

“He has a phone.”

Andy flushed at the obviousness of the statement, feeling his own in his backpocket. It was rarely used, save for the infrequent phone call from his mother or the resident in the med building. If Sam wanted him, he usually tracked Andy down physically. Andy was the same way.

“Well, I'm blond, if you haven't noticed,” he joked, trying to lighten the mood.

“What does that have to do with anything? You dial a number to contact someone. Anybody can do that,” Adam said, almost in disgust.

Andy felt scolded, and felt his shoulders hunch. It was hard not to wince. “Right. Well…I'll see you around. Rest easy, huh?”

He let himself out with a harried action, feeling entirely exasperated at himself. He should have just left earlier, the moment he felt the mood Adam was in, to avoid being seen as a pest. Tossing the half empty bottle into a street bin located outside the house, Andy exhaled heavily and breathed in the warm night air to calm himself.

“He's still pissed, huh?” came a tired voice to his left, and it took all he had not to jump in surprise. Ian was leaning against the side of the house, looking rather sulky.

“Yes.”

“Sorry for that. He's not usually an asshole,” Ian said. “He works himself into these fits sometimes. It's pretty childish.”

Andy understood that they had years of knowledge of each other, that they had the rights to speak of each other so comfortably. But looking at the other man made him feel as if he had to say something. “Maybe he just had a hard day.”

Ian studied him, and Andy felt as if he were being stripped, examined as if he were some lowly thing. Something made the other man's lip curl just slightly, and he was pushing himself away from the building, arms uncrossing from his chest. His shoulders had grown tense, and his friendly face had turned stony.

“Maybe it's because he touched upon a topic nobody likes to ask about,” he said lowly, and Andy felt his stomach curdle, feeling as if Ian were speaking of something other than Adam. He looked at the sidewalk for a brief second before forcing himself to take on a confused expression. But he knew Ian's eyes saw more than that.

“Maybe,” he said hoarsely.

“Maybe you should go home, Murphy. Sleep it off.”

Andy wasn't sure what it was he should be sleeping off, but he felt compelled to do just that. Without saying anything he hurried off, feeling as if he'd just been run off by both men. He grew frazzled, wondering if they saw in him what he had been fighting to hide since his enrollment. Tasting beer on the back of his tongue, Andy focused on the sidewalk and decided that venturing into this area was definitely something he should avoid doing in the future.