Original Stories Fan Fiction ❯ All I Have ❯ Falling ( Chapter 19 )

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

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: Falling :

Sam walked up to the door, glancing over his shoulder to make sure Adam was following. It was obvious he was dithering, his strong face clouded with some dark expression that made him utterly intimidating to look at. He felt his hairline bead with sweat, wondering what would happen when he and his older brother spoke. Ian was right in all aspects; the big guy sure had a way of making everyone uncomfortable with his moods, and Sam wanted him to get the situation resolved so everyone could breathe easier.

Frankly, Sam hoped he didn't have to interfere with any physical violence. He didn't expect Andy to get physical, but then again…there had been a lot he didn't know about him, yet. Andy only allowed what he wanted people to know, and it was still a jolt in being told by a third party his orientation. Sam had accepted it a long time ago, but to have it confirmed was an entirely different feeling.

Above it all, he couldn't wait to personally see Andy and hear the man's voice; Sam's attachment to him was strong, an almost physical need during those hard times when he felt alone and lost. Andy's presence, with his way of explaining the world and the way he viewed things was something entirely different for Sam. He had grown up used to the indifference and the mistreatment of people around him, and while he grasped the notion in that perhaps the world was meant for selfish actions, he couldn't quite understand the guilt and feeling he would have for others. Compassion and empathy were things that were deeply embedded within him, but hardly cultivated due to his mother's focused needs, the expectations of his various step-fathers, and his surrounding peers' view of regards for themselves. Money had made material things handy, but it didn't solve his surprisingly strong desires to want to mend peoples' hurt, to be confused by the actions of a person in some form of pain.

So when he met Andy and found similar things in the other man, it was almost as if Sam had found some sense of himself. He also had a strong sense of feeling competent; for it was clear Andy needed him in ways that Sam had felt he couldn't provide for others. He could boss the man around with his actions, and Andy would follow them like some lost, unguided child, fulfilling Sam in a sense of worth, as if he had been lacking it throughout his life. Knowing that there was somebody else in the world of New Park and in the Duncan Jones military that thought like him, with similar unfulfilled guidance made Sam feel as if he weren't some strange, neglected entity.

He cleared his throat and knocked on the door, examining the neighborhood as he waited for a response. It was happy and cheerful, with toddlers wading in kiddie pools and harried mothers watching over them. He could feel Adam pausing behind him, and looked up as the door opened.

Not seeing Andy, Sam walked in, the screen door opening with a slight screech. He then frowned as he examined the living area, allowing Adam in, hearing him shut and close both doors behind him. He turned to give him a puzzled look, wondering if Andy had taken off when Samsara walked out from behind Adam, causing Sam to startle with a surprised cry.

“We was waiting for you,” Yoshida's slurred voice caught his attention, and Sam whipped around to see the redhead lounging at the kitchen counter. He didn't understand how he could have missed seeing her when she had been standing there in plain view, dumping what looked to be Jack Daniel's into a glass cup. He figured she'd hidden them both from their eyes by wiping their visual presence from their thoughts, something psychokinetics were able to do.

“Where's Andy?” Sam asked, almost in a panic as he realized he didn't see the man anywhere. Samsara walked a slow saunter from around them to a diagonal position within the corner of the living room, made a shrugging motion. He noticed how attentive he was, looking around them and crouching at occasion, as if he were searching something out within the room.

“He ain't been here since we got here,” Yoshida mumbled, sloshing the liquid against her chin as she mustered the effort to wet her mouth. “It don't matter. We heard you coming out this way.”

“Your business is done,” Adam snapped at her, feeling uneasy as he felt torn on whom to keep an eye on. Both of them were dangerous in their own way, and he had the presence of mind in that either of them could strike at random. “You said you'd leave him alone.”

Yoshida frowned at him, having trouble focusing. Her eyelids kept blinking long and heavily, as if she couldn't decide how to keep them open. “I did. But…this is shomething else completely entirely.”

“You're too young to be drinking!” Sam exclaimed before he could stop himself, outraged at the sight of the East Sider smashed before them. “Why are you doing that?”

“I bought this just before we came out, and den I got bored waiting, and then I got thirsty,” Yoshida said with a haughty sniff, Samsara emitting a snorting sound. “So then I just kept drinking. Have you seen the water system underground? So filthy. Will make you rethink usin' that tap water, huh, Byrons?”

Sam made an expression of disapproval, Adam secretly agreeing with the teen after seeing what he had underground. Both of them looked over at Samsara in wary regard as the teen straightened and posted himself diagonally from them.

“Anywho, don't worry,” Yoshida continued, examining her cup. “Shee, we had something of concern. Confhession to make? We shot those things up that night. Cuz, lissen. Lissen here. They was running stuff we ain't had a hand in, right? Right? So we were like, Fuck that. It ain't happenin' in our city! So after I got what I got, we dids some en-in-investing the situation.”

Adam looked at Samsara. “Instead of making us translate the fuck she's saying, why don't you explain?”

Yoshida flung the empty cup at him, but missed entirely. “Hey! Hey, I'm coherent, here! Just…juhst havin' trouble movin' ye olde mouth functions.”

“We investigated ourselves what the fuck, since Intelligence was takin' too long,” Samsara said, Yoshida turning away from the counter to rummage through the cupboards for another cup. Once she found one, she poured herself another drink and sipped at it noisily. “The thingy belonged to this guy, he works that bank Dost has. NPC Banking? He been hire some peeps from space, some project he gots going on. Thinks he's got a level on Merrick with it all.”

Adam pictured the night the team had noticed frantic activity around the bank. “So?”

“He been workin' on staging some sorta virus outbreak on the city. Terrorist b.s. That's what the receipt is for. But once this sitch went down, Dost fired his ass to cover his. I think the guy still gots ownership on the buy he made, though, and is going on `bout his plan independently for some idiotic thing he thinks he has over Merrick and Dost.”

“Why don't they handle it, then?”

“Cuz it ain't up to us to knock out terrorist threats,” Samsara said snidely. “It's your job.”

Adam gave him a withering look.

“So thas whats we wanted ta say!” Yoshida hollered, holding up her cup. She tried to drink a little more, but sputtered and choked, dropping the cup atop of the counter, dry heaving.

Sam gave her a look of disgust, to which she lifted her head and laughed. “I ain't been sober in two weeks! Oh my God!”

“Nothing to be proud of,” Adam muttered. “So why not approach any other squad on the streets with your bullshit?”

“Cush.”

“ `Shida's got all her marks on various people throughout the city. The scarring that got him all discharged?” Samsara explained, shifting away from his corner to venture to one of the windows, glancing outside. “Since he was connected to th' incident, we figured it'd best explain why all the hubbub went down `round him. And yer a competent bunch, so why not?”

“We found his house!” Yoshida declared, looking around. With a wave of her hand, she gestured at the area. “But he weren't here when we got in. I'm too drunk to track him down…”

“Doesn't matter, anyway. Long's we got you all to know what's the haps.”

“We gonna leave, now,” Yoshida decided, moving for the front door. A force knocked both Adam and Sam aside, almost off their feet. As they stumbled, she easily sauntered by them, ankles rolling in her heels and almost falling herself. Samsara shifted away from his position against the wall and caught her arm, shoving her to keep her moving.

The pair left with a quiet shutting of the door, Sam rubbing at his head as he removed his hat. Adam shifted around him to look out one of the front windows, to watch Yoshida and Samsara climb into a white SUV that hadn't been there when they had arrived earlier. It pulled away with a quiet rumble, to drive through the middle class neighborhood with its classy extravagance.

“Better call that in,” Sam said with a sigh. “If they're right about what they're saying, we'll want to know what sort of virus outbreak they were planning.”

Adam grunted, not really wanting to contact his best friend at the moment. Instead he went through the house, looking for places that the two might have hidden the missing man away. In the bedroom, he noticed that the bed was tightly made, but there was a small package atop of the worn bedspread. Spying a note, he shifted over and snagged it, growing a little uneasy at the sight of a pack of condoms and lube wrapped with pink ribbon sitting underneath it. Reading the flowery letters of a night spent safely, he felt his face flush with color, wadding the paper up as he inwardly cursed Yoshida's penchant for teasing. Hearing Sam approach him, he hastily shoved the package off the bed, onto the opposite side, where Sam couldn't see it.

“I called it to Peters,” Sam said, glancing at the crumbled mess in Adam's hand. “What's that?”

“Nothing.”

He looked over at the nightstand and reached out for a candle that looked new, smelling it with a disapproving expression. “`Get Some'. Andy's not into candles. Wonder why he got something like that?”

Embarrassed by the teenagers that obviously encouraged a tryst for the night, Adam wondered if his thoughts would ever stay private again. He just hoped that Yoshida wouldn't bring it up in the midst of some street encounter, because he wasn't sure how he was going to play off her continuous teasing over her knowledge of his relationship with Andy.

“I think he took off, that wimp,” Sam then muttered as he scanned the room, turning to walk away after that. “Peters must have said something to him. Let's hang around here for awhile.”

“Duty starts in a couple of hours. You shouldn't be late.”

“I know, I know. It takes almost an hour to leave the tarmac, anyway, so it won't be like I'll be too late,” Sam said, wandering into the kitchen to look for something to eat, and to make sure Andy was making smart choices when it came to his food intake.

Adam followed, throwing the wadded mess into the trash can while Sam dumped the rest of the liquor down into the sink. He then ventured into the living room and sat slowly on the couch, wondering what to do when Andy came back home.

“It'll be fine, once I get things sorted out,” Andy said, neatly packing his groceries into his reusable grocery bags, Ken shifting impatiently at his side.

After Ian had left him, Andy found it prudent to call the younger Powers twin, to assure him that he was still alive. He thought it would be considerate to do so, remembering how Ken had been struggling to help him through the mess. Ken had met him at the grocery store almost immediately, as if he had already been in town, dressed in his BDUs and his hair freshly cut. He was a picture of male strength, hostile and aggressive before Andy could say a word. It felt like Ken had devoured just the sight of him when they met outside, something that Andy could compare to a look Adam had given him before. He was uncomfortable with the notion that perhaps Ken had feelings for him.

Ken was smothering and cranky, demanding his cell number and location of his newest residence before anything else, Andy giving it only to placate him. He then followed him around the grocery store with his persistent questions and presence while Andy shopped. Ken's displays of affection were forceful punches on the arm, a pull and remark on his growing hair, and uneasy touches on his shoulders; it made Andy wonder if Ken had been this physical with him before.

“Taking on a civilian job ain't gonna be the same as workin' for DJ,” Ken said, almost on a huff, taking one of the reusable bags in hand, his fingers brushing against Andy's. He gave Ken a startled look, but the other man was already making sure that he was holding onto the bag properly. “It's gonna be this crazy shock. What are you thinkin' on taking?”

“There's always need for paramedics,” Andy mumbled, taking the other two once he determined they were packed evenly. He wasn't sure if he could meet the other man's eyes, now. Not after he found himself getting suspicious of Ken's motives, something that made him completely self-conscious. “I've already mapped out my plan.”

“What about yer leg? Should you even be walkin' on it so soon?” Ken then asked, having noticed his slight limp.

“It'll be okay.”

“How'd you break it, anyway?” Ken asked, following him out of the store, adjusting his sunglasses against the bright afternoon light.

“I used Byrons for cover.”

“Funny how it was him that got all lost with you,” Ken mumbled, Andy looking at him warily as he detected a certain tone from him. “It ain't right that you got to be alone with him, not after that bullshit from the other night. Did you report him?”

“There's nothing to report.” Just speaking of the man made Andy feel odd inside, feeling that now familiar ache of need in him.

“You fuckin' liar! Why you wanna cover for that predator ain't something I'll ever understand!” Ken snapped at him.

Andy gave a low sigh of impatience, reaching for the bag that Ken carried and growing annoyed as Ken held it away. “I can take it from here. I just wanted to let you know that things are all right.”

Ken's lips thinned and he gave an uneasy clearing of his throat, glancing around them to observe the civilians moving about. Andy frowned at the feel of something significant coming, and he felt uncomfortable listening for it. He looked over once he felt Ken's eyes on him again, and found it disturbing as he peered into the reflective glass of his eyewear. He squinted underneath the afternoon sun's bright rays, occasionally broken by air traffic. It looked as if Ken were struggling with making himself continue, but seemed to be having a hard time with it.

Finally, he said gruffly, “Listen, Murphy, it—it sounds funny, but—I'm just watching out for you. Okay? It ain't like you can't watch out for yourself, but sometimes you just let assholes walk all over you without saying anything.”

“Yeah,” Andy said, looking at him pointedly.

“`Ch,” Ken muttered, waving the suggestion away. His shortened blond curls were given an impatient ruffle. “It's just…well, it's good to know you came out okay. Too bad you ain't gonna be with us anymore, so…it ain't like we're going to see you as much, so…uh, I just think you shouldn't be too selective when you're starting out anew out here. We'll still, uh, check in with you. From time to time.”

At the thought of both Powers brothers wanting to `check in' on him, Andy felt his brow furrow. Studying the other man for a few moments, Andy found it unnerving how Ken continued to eye him from behind his sunglasses. He didn't look away, wanting to see the actual truth in Ken's expression. “I thought you'd be happy that I was gone.”

Ken reached up to wipe one hand over his mouth and chin, looking away for that moment to study their surroundings with a slightly curled lip. “That old fucker just complains about stuff, when Paul and I have our arguments. You just handled it. So, it's like, adjusting to new people really is a pain. Y'know?”

“I guess.”

“Well, an' still, it's—yer still a conceited bitch, but yer—really just—” Ken scrunched up his face, Andy finding it amusing to see the Powers twin struggle to come up with a compliment of sorts. “Aw, well, I just got used to you, I guess.”

“Get unused to me, then. Because I'm not living on base, anymore. Speaking of base, shouldn't you be back there to get ready for duty?” Andy then asked, looking at his watch. Looking at it reminded him of Ken's. “And I'll pay you back for the watch. I lost it in the station.”

“Don't even worry about it. It was something Paul used to track me with, an' it got annoying,” Ken said with a shrug, watching that particular hand drop back to his side. “When we found it, I thought it was cuz you were dead. Bodies in there were…a little startling.”

“It must have been,” Andy murmured, still looking at him. Ken's face looked haggard, as if he hadn't slept in days. He suddenly thought of the confrontation he'd had with Adam that night, a startling display of violence that, even though Andy was used to it from Ken, surprised him because of its purpose. “You really hate Byrons, don't you?”

“Don't you?!” Ken returned, looking at him with a frown. “Do you even remember what happened that night?”

“No. But it wasn't—”

“Then why was he there? Why are ya'll friends? Just cuz he's yer brother's teammate and shit? That why? You got to be best friends, and he take advantage of it?”

Andy furrowed his brow, puzzled at the amount of hostility that he could hear rising from the other. “Ken—”

“Fuckin' sick how people like him wear our uniform!” Ken then growled. “You still talkin' to him? Even now? After that shit display that night? You don't remember him gettin' all up in your face?”

“Why do you care?” Andy asked impatiently, reaching for his grocery bag again and Ken once more holding it out of his reach. “Why are you paying so much attention to what the fuck he does?”

Ken exhaled heavily, looking extremely frustrated.

“It's like you're obsessed with everything he does.”

“It ain't even that!”

“Then why does he bother you? If you don't really care about him, stop taking everything he does personally.”

Ken then threw the bag at him, Andy not quick enough to grab it before it hit the sidewalk. “I don't give a fuck about that meathead.”

“Goddammit, you asshole,” Andy then cursed, seeing that the action had crushed his carton of eggs. He reached over and shoved him, then bent to pick the bag up, sighing with exasperation upon examining the contents.

“If you wanna take up this golly-gee thing with that closeted fucker, who's me to say otherwise? You like that stuff, don't you, Murphy? Maybe you played fake pass-out just to have him climb up your ass—”

“Christ, you are unbelievable,” Andy muttered, moving for the bus stop nearby.

“Fuck! Murphy, ever since I've known you, you're this pansy ass weakling that lets himself get taken advantage of, and you don't even get appreciative `bout people like me that tries to watch out for you. You just throw my generosity back into my fuckin' face, like the snobbish bitch that you are. That's what I fuckin' hate about you.”

“Fucking Hell, Ken. Now that you know I'm alive, go back to base. I'm not going to stand here and have this idiotic conversation with you, if it's even that,” Andy cursed, turning to glare at him.

“In fact, I bet you went and called him,” Ken continued, walking up after him, reaching out to grab his wrist and to yank him to a stop. Andy noticed that he didn't let go, an uncomfortable vise that made him look at Ken in surprise. “I bet you let that shit go, and you still wanna be friends with him, huh? Figures you'd get that way with someone like that.”

“Get over it! Who cares what I do?”

Ken grit his teeth, as if biting back a reply, Andy looking at him with a frown. That air of a response hit him, and he knew Ken wanted to say something more. But he instead gave a short exhale through his hooked nose, dropped his hold on his wrist and turned to leave. Without thinking, Andy reached out and caught his arm to stop him.

“Wait. What were you going to say?” he asked, inwardly knowing what it was the more he stared at the other man. It blindsided him to know that Ken had feelings for him; he would have never known, mistaking his hostility only for dislike.

Ken instead reached back and shoved him away. He stomped off down the sidewalk, hailing a cab. Andy watched him go, feeling bewildered at the situation. He wasn't sure what to think. Looking back down at his grocery bag, he saw that he was dripping crushed eggs onto the sidewalk and cursed, crouching to shift the items of that bag into the others, to toss the ruined bag into the trash can nearby. When he looked up, Ken was gone.

Andy arrived home, still bewildered by the encounter with Ken. It made him feel oddly, for he never imagined ever thinking such thoughts about the younger Powers twin. But it made sense the more he reviewed back on their interactions, how possessive and angry Ken was with everything he did. How many speeches did he have to hear about his actions, about what his thoughts were, how Ken would touch him? Now that he was quite sure about what Ken felt on him, Andy wasn't sure how to conduct himself around the twin. It made him question just how safe he was; it now made sense his hostility towards him, and why Ken was expressively jealous over Adam.

It was too much for Andy, and he decided that since he no longer had to work with the man, he wasn't going to exhaust himself thinking about it.

A little puzzled by the fact that his front door was unlocked, he walked in, immediately spying Sam on his couch, flipping through the channels of his `set. Surprised and happy at the same time, he greeted him cheerfully, Sam rising with an exclamation of his own.

Then he frowned as Andy kicked the door shut. “You ran off to hide,” he accused.

“I needed some groceries,” Andy said cheerfully, reaching out with a one-handed hug, an awkward pat on his taller brother's back.

“You had visitors,” Sam said, taking a bag from him.

“I did? I met Ken at the store.”

Sam gave him an annoyed look. “Oh, so you call Ken and not me?”

“Peters said he was going to, uh, send you out anyway,” Andy muttered, walking to the kitchen and noticing that Sam was alone. For a moment he felt disappointed. He still wanted to see Adam. He started to think that perhaps he had been right, that Ian was making a big deal out of something that Adam didn't even agree with.

“Yeah, that was a huge deal. He can be this colossal control freak,” Sam said, unloading the bag he held as Andy unloaded his. The countertop grew cluttered with the things they set aside, and Sam examined some of the stuff with disapproval. “Anyway, you had Smith and Samsara here.”

“Why?” Andy asked in surprise.

“They confessed to shooting up those things in the warehouse. Then said that one of Dost's minions had made the transaction, some secret thing involving this and that. I called it in, and I guess Peters is going to have it investigated. I thought they did something to you,” Sam confessed, looking over at him.

“Oh. Oh, no, I'd—I'd left almost after Peters did,” Andy muttered, putting things away, trying to hide his disappointment. “And I called up Ken because…and that's what took me so long.”

Sam frowned at him. “Why would you do that? He's an asshole.”

“He was trying to help.” Andy held onto a can of soup, examining it and wondering why he had it. He didn't like the brand or the contents, but he recognized that Ken did. He set that aside. “I just thought it would make him feel better.”

Sam shrugged a shoulder, fiddling with a loaf of wheat bread. “That entire scene was crazy, man. I was—everyone was freaking out. Body after body came out, and then, it was like—I totally had those thoughts of, like, what I was going to tell your mom. If she asked. Oh, by the way, Marissa and her kids want to thank you. She said that she wasn't sure if she and them wouldn't have made it if it weren't for you.”

“Who—? Oh! I'm glad they're okay,” Andy said with relief, picturing the woman and her children, furrowing his brow as he wondered why he'd grabbed turkey sandwich meat instead of ham. He hated turkey. “You were awesome, Sam. You knew what you were doing that night.”

“Yeah, well—it…it just would have sucked if…if something, like, permanent had happened, and—well, how's your leg?” Sam then asked, looking over after interrupting himself.

“Fine. Still sore, but physical therapy will help,” Andy said, bending to rub thoughtfully at his achy shin, finding that the long walk from bus stop had strained the healing limb. “Everything worked out in the end, Sam. I'm glad you're all right.”

“Andy, I—” Sam then cut himself off abruptly, making a face, Andy straightening to look at him questionably. He then exhaled heavily. “You aren't drinking, are you?”

“No.” Andy drummed his fingertips atop of the counter, glad that he hadn't had the chance to buy what he really wanted, on the account of Ken's distracting presence. He then found himself preoccupied by the sight of wrapped cabbage instead of lettuce.

“Good, because I think that—well, that aside, I'm just glad that the entire thing's over. It was too much,” Sam said, grateful expression on his face. He made a face as he wondered why Andy had bought cabbage instead of lettuce, reaching over to examine it.

“Me, too. I'm not one for drama,” Andy said with a wince.

“What are you going to do?” Sam asked, smelling the cabbage.

“Look for a job, for one. Then, maybe, look around for something else,” Andy added, looking at a protein shake mix, wondering why he had chosen it. “The area's nice, but…I think I can…find something else.”

Sam grabbed the mix and examined it. “Stay on neutral territory.”

“Maybe I'll move back home,” Andy said quietly.

“Where's that? The north side?”

“Yeah. Just outside of Edmonton.”

Setting aside the protein mix, Sam's face brightened as he remembered where the place was. “Ah. Prep town.”

“It's a suburb, but at least it's close enough to catch a Fast Trac back into town, and it's noisy and nice enough to consider city limits. I don't want to live anywhere…quiet. Man, underground was so quiet and scary. Rural areas scare me.”

Sam looked at him with a pointed smile. “That's what Byrons said.”

Andy was careful not to make any expression, realizing that Sam was watching him closely. Making an agreeing noise, Andy pulled away from the counter to toss things into the fridge. But he reached in and plucked out the sandwich items, unsure of what difference cabbage made with lettuce. “Do you want to eat something?”

“He said that it was quiet and dark and scary. And that there were things down there that he couldn't identify.”

“It was an adventure. You're not going to be late, are you?” Andy then asked, looking at the oven clock with some worry, dropping his items back onto the counter and preparing to make a sandwich.

“I'm glad things are going to turn out good, Andy,” Sam said, reaching out to catch his brother's arm. “I'm glad I'm not meeting your mom and dad under different circumstances.”

“Oh, yeah. Me too. Because my mom is so…not cool.”

“But all that aside…I need to say something.”

“Maybe you should start heading back, Sam,” Andy said quickly, looking at him upon realizing the tone Sam was taking.

“Jensen told me everything about your school,” Sam then said pointedly, tightening his grip once he felt Andy start to pull away. Andy managed to move, throwing him a look. “Now that you're out of the DJ, who cares if you're homo?”

“Geez, Sam, thanks,” Andy muttered, feeling completely uncomfortable with his outing to Sam, annoyed at Jensen for talking so much.

“I mean it. Like I said before, I don't care if you are. And I'm glad you're in a position where you can feel comfortable being so. Now you don't have to drown shit in all that alcohol. Yay, your liver thanks you.”

Despite himself, Andy smiled at the expression. He unwrapped the cabbage and smelled it with a frown. “I guess. But, I'd rather not talk about it, and—”

“I get you're all closeted about it, but I don't think you have to be now.”

“Come out tomorrow and help me find a new cell. I have this prepaid b.s., and I can't handle that. I keep losing track of what I have.”

“You give us blondes such a bad rep,” Sam said with an impatient sigh. “Anyway, I will, but—don't expect me to forget these things.”

“What's there to talk about?” Andy asked anxiously. “There's nothing really to discuss, or share or anything like that.”

“I didn't come out here alone,” Sam said, tilting his head. He then reached out to stop Andy from making the sandwich with cabbage leaves. “Don't eat that. Make it plain. Since when did you start eating turkey?”

“I hate turkey, but I'm hungry, and it's here in front of me. What's wrong if I make it with this? It smells okay.”

“Just don't eat it, Andy, jeez. It's not the same as lettuce.”

“Wait, what do you mean, you didn't come here alone?” Andy then asked, dropping the cabbage aside.

Sam shifted uncomfortably against the counter, glancing around the area with a slight frown. Adam had left before Andy had come home, and he wasn't sure where the man had gone. But he was fairly confident Adam hadn't ditched him. “I saw this Mongolian place down the road. Order out from there.”

“I don't like spicy food.”

“It's not all spicy, Andy. Here,” Sam reached out for the loaf of bread, opening it and dropping a couple of slices onto the counter for him to use. “Anyway, things'll now work out. Because it's completely settled, and—well, it'll suck not having you around on base and everything, but there's so many more and different opportunities out here that'll be just as well.”

“Yeah, I suppose,” Andy said, distracted as he thought of Ken once more.

“I just…well…it's hard for me to say and bring up, Andy, but I think that…that you and Adam should talk,” Sam then said, looking over at him.

With a stubborn set of his jaw, Andy set the condiments aside. He focused on wetting the bread with one. “You, too, now?”

“It's different in my area,” Sam mumbled. “Knowing what I know.”

“And what do you know?” Andy asked him, his tone growing impatient.

“Adam told me what happened,” Sam then said, turning to look at him. Andy felt as if the breath were knocked out of him, feeling himself freeze in that same instant. Panic, mortification and shock coursed through him, and it was hard to think of anything other than what he remembered of that night. To think that Sam would know what had happened made him wonder how he now stood in Sam's eyes, no matter what the younger man was saying.

“So, I know a lot more than Peters, does. I get why you're both all secretive, but—but now that I know, I want to help. I want both of you to get along, because, like, clearly you both like each other more than what you're saying!”

“You don't know anything, and whatever he told you, he didn't tell you the entire truth,” Andy snapped, slapping aside the knife and bread, storming out of the kitchen. He wasn't sure why he was reacting the way he was—only that he felt angry and mortified.

Surprised, Sam gaped after him, and then abandoned his food to hurry after him, hoping that Adam didn't chose to come back at that moment. “Andy! What the hell, man? Why are you so upset?”

“I don't like people talking about my situations behind my Goddamn back! Fuck, ever since I met the man, everyone's talking about something, and it's like—leave me alone!”

“People take things out of context, yes, I admit that—but now that things make sense, the whole situation makes sense,” Sam argued, following him into the bedroom. He caught the bathroom door that Andy moved to shut on him, and both of them pushed and pulled at it for a moment.

“Get out! I'm going to take a shit!”

“You are not! Liar! Stop running away!”

“I just want to be left alone!”

“You hate being alone! So it doesn't make sense you'd want to be,” Sam continued to argue, pulling on the door. “Damn it, you're acting like a baby!”

“I just want people to stop talking about me behind my back!”

“Adam told me what happened on his end,” Sam said. He finally kicked out, Andy moving to avoid his foot. The situation made Andy abandon his efforts on the door. “He told me a little of what happened. He says he doesn't remember. But he regrets it, Andy, he does, and—and not in a bad way, but because—because whatever happened didn't go right.”

He scrunched his brow. “Not enough…lube?”

“SAM!”

“I'm just asking!”

“Christ, I'm not talking to you about that,” Andy heard himself groan, mortification coloring his entire body. He found he couldn't even face the younger man, but he could feel him staring at him. “I'm not talking to you about anything.”

“And that's the thing,” Sam said. “I told you I had gay friends in high school, so I've pretty much heard it all, Andy. I doubt anything told to me now would be different.”

Andy wiped at his face. He felt too sweaty and hot. He couldn't bring himself to look back at Sam, to see his young face screwed up with concentration, his eyes focused on fixing something. He felt like hitting something.

“I just want people to get along okay,” Sam said with a sigh. “And not in the same way Peters, does. Peters wants everyone to get along, but he doesn't get relationships and feelings and things like that; he thinks by getting you two to clear up the situation would make it easier on all, but I think that both of you…just…really like each other. And you're both too stupid and stubborn to get past…whatever…and today I just want you to patch it up.”

“You think that everything will be all hunky dory after we do?” Andy asked him. “That things will change for the better? Adam, even if he spoke to me and—and things magically cleared up, but he's in the military, Sam. He's a lifer—you think he'd risk losing what respect and what career he has just to—to mess with some loser like me?”

“I wouldn't tell anybody—!”

“But you're not thinking of the entire picture! You think Peters won't somehow find out, snooping the way he does? You think Adam is going to change his personality, his way of thinking, just because he told you he's—he's—whatever?! No! He's not! Talking to me about whatever it is he wants to talk about will only clear his conscience!” Andy growled, growing angry at Adam as Sam continued to blast him with his view.

“I just…I just want people to—”

“We can talk, Sam, but nothing will change. He's still going to hide it, and, hey, that's smart of him, considering what he's doing and wants to do, and—but in the end, even if you found a way to solve the situation, he's still going to be this miserable asshole because he still has to pretend to fit in!” Andy snapped at him. “This isn't high school! High school was fine and okay because it's more accepted, but not this. Not in the military.”

Sam gave him a frown. “You're so fucking pessimistic. There's always a way.”

“That's a dreamer's wish, Sam. That's not fucking reality.”

“There's always a way,” Sam insisted.

“So, what, are you imagining some sort of happy future with—with me and Adam? Oh, hey, two of your friends are fags, yay, let's do something about it, because it's so fucking accepted!”

“Shut up, Andy! You're freaking out over something like that, and you're just—you're doing your fucking re-directing thing again!”

“I'm telling you how it is! That's how it's going to be! He's not going to change! He's an asshole because he knows this!” Andy snapped at him. “And what screwed up thinking he has is something he's going to have to deal with for as long as he's in there, and, trust me, Sam, you don't know the entire situation. You blathering on about fixing things, about having feelings, about this and that is fucking idiotic. You don't know the entire picture, you don't know what happened, and it's definitely not something I'll be telling you about any time soon!”

“Fine,” Sam said on a huff. “Don't tell me. But it's stupid, Andy. He wants to be with you. He wants to fix things—doesn't that tell you anything about his intentions?”

“Right,” Andy muttered. “How do you know he's just not telling you something just to make you shut the fuck up over it? Jesus Christ, Sam. I'd tell you the same fucking thing if it made you shut up over it.”

“Liar,” Sam said, reaching out and jabbing his cheek. Andy slapped at him, forcing him to back away. “I can always tell when you're lying, you know. That thing right there? Yeah, it gets all wrinkly when you—hey!”

He huffed as Andy slammed the door in his face, locking it soundly. He leaned against the door, forehead against wood. “Anyway, so, that's the situation. Just talk it out with him. That's who I came out here with, but he…um, took a walk to assess the…the perimeters, and shit. So he'll be back. And when he does, he's going to—”

“Go away!”

“I'm going to send him back here when he gets back, so he can just smell how shitty you are,” Sam threatened, and then stomped off.

But he felt better about things, happily finishing the making of his sandwich. It was the first shouting match he'd had with Andy, and hearing his returning comments only elated him, knowing that Andy felt too much of the situation to lie about it. If Andy sulked and said nothing, tiredly accepting the comments with nothing more than calm redirection, then Sam would worry himself over it.

He bit into his sandwich and wondered where Adam was.

Andy looked up as his front door opened, and Adam walked in with an annoyed expression, looking as if the very sunlight irritated him. Upon seeing him, his dark gaze shifted into something unidentifiable, but Andy looked away before he could stop himself. Anxiety, fear of rejection and his earlier argument with Sam boiled within him, making it hard for him to concentrate on a single task. But he couldn't help but appreciate the very sight of Adam; he still had physical feelings for the man, and he hated that strong pull.

“It's time to go,” Adam said to Sam, holding the door open.

Sam gave him a surprised look, chip stopped halfway to his mouth. He looked at Andy, who found his half eaten sandwich suddenly interesting. “But—”

“You don't want to be late. Cooney will dock you,” Adam said, unmoving from the door.

Confused, then exasperated as he looked pointedly at Andy, Sam said, “But Adam—weren't you—you don't even have to work, so why are you—?”

“You better go, Sam,” Andy spoke up quietly. “Leads are nasty if you're late.”

“Yes, but—!”

“Let's go,” Adam insisted, giving him his most annoyed stare. He glanced at Andy as Sam rose, giving a frustrated curse under his breath.

“Adam has something he needs to say to you,” Sam then said to Andy. Adam gave him a startled look, but then Sam pressed on to say, “It's really important—”

“Sam, Jesus Christ, do you get subtlety?” Adam interrupted as Andy looked at his younger brother, then down at his sandwich. Adam chose that time to catch Sam's eye and gave the hand signals in that he'd found the area compromised by unsuitable voyeurs. Sam gave him a started look as he walked over to him, about to ask what he meant when Adam reached out and shoved him out the door. He shut it before Sam could turn around.

He found himself in awkward silence. But he forced himself to look up and realized that Andy was watching him warily. It affected him in how Andy could look at him, and it caused him to grow self-conscious, a little less secure. He briefly acknowledged the physical appreciation he had for the other man; Andy's physical appearance made him want to think more into it, but he forced himself not to.

So to make up for it, he squared himself and moved to him. He knew by the slight flinch on Andy's face that he'd become aggressive, as if he were moving to attack in some manner. And he felt that he was, only in an entirely different manner. He just didn't know how to go about it any other way, frustrated with his own inability to express things the right way.

“Area's compromised,” he said, catching his own rough growl. Andy gave him a puzzled look, rising from his chair. Adam figured it was to somehow assert his own space, considering how overwhelming he'd become in attitude alone. “Sam told you why.”

“Y-Yes,” Andy answered. “Adam, I—”

“Here,” Adam interrupted, thrusting a couple of papers at him.

Andy looked at them and gave a tired sigh as he took them. “More paperwork? Like I don't have enough already?”

“I—Yes,” Adam interrupted himself to say, feeling like an idiot the more sweaty his palms grew, the frustration roiling deep within him. He eyed the papers with a sense of wanting to take them back, but then he thought about the situation outside. It was obviously notebook paper, taken by request by one of the young mothers watching her children outside, and his hasty scribbles upon it had marred the fragile document. He felt incredibly small at that point, hands itching to snatch them back, so he stuffed them into his pockets.

Andy looked at him, and Adam wanted to flinch. He felt like snarling every time he felt this man look at him, because he could feel himself weakening deep inside; wanting to do or say whatever Andy would ask of him. But he forced himself to focus, to think over what security measures had to be in place of keeping this man out of the Underworld's continuously voyeuristic eyes.

“I need to say something,” Andy said, quietly at first, then forcing it from himself.

Adam jerked his head in some semblance of a negative, reaching for the door. He wanted to stay; he felt it within every fiber of his being. He wanted to stay and hear what Andy had to say, and to relay his own thoughts. He wanted to reach out and touch him; he could smell him and he smelled fantastic, but he forced himself to focus on the task that he laid out in front of him.

“No, don't go,” Andy insisted, reaching out to grab him, but his touch singed at Adam's skin.

He jerked his arm away in reaction. “Fucking look at those damn papers.”

“I've had enough of paperwork to last me a lifetime! I don't want to look at papers!” Andy snapped, then licked his lips. “I need to talk to you, I don't care if you have to leave, but I need to say—!”

“I don't want to hear it. Andy. I don't want to hear it,” Adam repeated, gesturing insistently at him and wondering why Andy wasn't getting his subtle hints. Before he could move into hand signals, Andy shook his head.

“No, no I need to fix this!” he said, his tone strained with desperation, and it tugged at Adam. “I need to—!”

“Just look at those damn papers, Andy—!” Adam snapped in frustration, reaching for the door and twisting the knob to make a hasty escape.

“But—! But—but wait—!” Andy exclaimed, reaching for him again, even as he tossed them aside.

Adam gave an aggravated curse, gesturing at him to pick them up. Only he ended up hitting Andy as the man moved for them at the same time. Before he could apologize, or for Andy to even say something in reaction, a huge thud at the door caused them both to freeze.

Immediately Andy composed himself and Adam scowled. Andy bent to pick the papers up, and Adam saw his trembling hands, but he forced himself to jerk the door open to give Sam a piece of his mind for trying to eavesdrop.

Instead, Yoshida and Sam tumbled down onto the carpet, both of them wearing guilty expressions.

Andy dropped the papers in reaction, giving a startled sound while Adam schooled his features into something stern. He gazed outside to see the white SUV parked at the curb, the men sitting inside looking bored as they waited for their younger co-worker.

“Sam—!” Andy exclaimed, looking at Yoshida in startle, reaching for his younger brother to pull him away from her.

“Dammit!” she cursed, still slurring her words. “You couldn't get to the point right away? I don't have all night to spy!”

“Get. The. Fuck. Out,” Adam said, barely able to control himself from reaching out to wring her scrawny neck. He shot a look at Sam, who sheepishly reached up to adjust his hat. Now that the situation seemed somewhat comical and non-threatening, Andy bent and picked the papers up once more, unsure of what to think.

“I was…trying to…get her…to—to go away,” he then said hastily. “She had ill intentions. I discovered her and I was trying to make her go away when she—threw herself at me. Just…totally…threw herself on me.”

“`Ill intentions' my ass!” she exclaimed, slowing rising to her feet. Scoffing, she dusted herself off. “All I wanted was to hear some sweaty, manly—!”

Adam slammed the door behind her, prompting a howl of surprise from the teen. He scowled at Sam, who wrung his hat nervously, Andy gazing off to the side and wondering how to process it all.

“Out,” he growled at the younger brother, who quickly scrambled off, the door swinging wide behind him. Yoshida had fallen to her knees on her way to the SUV, cursing over thick-headed morons, one of the white clothed men leaving the vehicle to assist her.

“Oh,” Andy then muttered, looking down at the papers in hand. “You—oh.”

Quite embarrassed and frustrated by how things had turned out, Adam looked away from the rambling teen and glared down at Andy. He saw that Andy now realized what was there, and he reached over with an embarrassed clearing of his throat, to fold them over with a push of his hand so that Andy couldn't keep reading what he'd wrote. He felt his cheeks color.

“Wait until I'm gone,” he muttered.

Andy looked up at him with a shy smile, but there was no mistaking how joyful he'd become once he read a few lines. Adam couldn't resist looking back at him he realized Andy's reaction to what he'd written. But because he was mortified to resorting to somewhat grade-school methods just to let Andy know his feelings without having anybody `overhear' them, Adam looked away and glared at the SUV as it pulled away from the curb.

He had half a mind to stay and make sure that Yoshida was only dicking around, waiting to see the outcome of their talk, but he was pretty sure Ian had the trouble part covered. He was going to give the man a piece of his mind once Ian returned home that night.

“Damn it!” Ian cursed, looking away from the scope of his sniper rifle. He wanted to pound on the rooftop in frustration, but he had to give his best friend credit for knowing how to play the situation in a way that continued to suit him. Hidden as he was in his protective camo, the 360 wraparound of tech keeping anybody from seeing him visually, he was well hidden from any untrained eye. His uniform kept thermals and other body signature seeking devices from detecting him, but Adam still glared in his direction as he followed after Sam.

Both of them were heading up the street for a bus, Sam talking away and asking questions, behaving like some pesty fly until Adam snapped something at him that finally made him back off with a big grin.

Gloomily, Ian rested his chin upon his palm, switching off the x-ray vision in his scope. He had been posted in this spot since his ride left him earlier that afternoon, after he was sure Sam and Adam were out of the area so they wouldn't catch him following; but all he'd seen were men in the midst of some argument he didn't know the content of. Seeing the argument between Sam and Andy made him kick himself in not bugging the place when he'd left that morning; but then again, he couldn't tempt his good fortune with just being allowed to `watch over' Andy Murphy on the premise of anticipating an attack from the South Side.

He knew enough of the Alien to know that Dost was true to his word; he wasn't going to persist in going after the information in Andy's head, to claim that Yoshida had manipulated it to show him disfavor. He was now set on fixing what his former employee had caused, and Ian used the `anticipation' in order to see the confrontation between Adam and Andy. The higher-ups that had allowed him his shadowing didn't quite know what he did of the Aliens, and he was using it for his personal advantage, something he was starting to feel bad about.

“Phooey,” he muttered, feeling childishly let-down. He knew something big was going to happen between them in which they would reveal what he was suspecting, but someone thwarted his plans. Adam was good in anticipating his move, but he wasn't that good.

“Why are you interfering with my personal duty?” he then asked aloud, slow and annoyed.

“Why are you interfering with something that ain't yer business?” was the return reply from his right. He scowled.

“I am merely performing civilian services in providing protection until I am for certain that the Underworld will abide by their promise,” he complained, reaching for his rifle and peering through the scope to see Andy move from door to couch.

“You need to let people alone,” came the annoyed answer, and he switched on and shifted his rifle around to focus on the sturdy skeleton that sat at the edge of the rooftop. If he zoomed the resolution, he could see where bones had healed crudely from hastily healed injuries. Scars from breaks, from violent stabbings and other miscellaneous violence were readily apparent from within his scope. Before he could make a further examination of other organs, the rifle was swatted aside. “If that thing allows you to look at details behind the clothing, I'mina slap you.”

With a chuckle, Ian released his uniform camo, revealing himself to the other with a slight shimmer. He reached up to release the face mask that had covered him from chin to forehead, tucking the material into the collar of his uniform with a few adjustments. He then slowly pushed himself to a sitting position, pulling his rifle in with careful handling. “I'm kicking myself for not bugging the place.”

“I'd find it and debug it. You are such a conniving girl, Peters,” Samsara said in disgust.

“Why are you so concerned over what's going on in that house? It's not like either of you have any more business with him,” Ian asked him, slowly snapping the rifle back into assault mode, removing the bullets allowed for preferable sniping efficiency out of its chamber and switching it for rapid-fire cartridges.

Samsara snorted, allowing himself to be seen. His black clad form shifted into a lazy lean against some imaginary wall, propping himself up as he surveyed the area from the rooftop. Ian studied him, imagining the features he knew were hidden behind the mask. He knew the superbly trained athlete had something resembling fatigue and annoyance there, and he wondered if the injuries taken since the train station incident had completely healed over.

“You need to waste your time doing something else. Like, I dunno, finding out WTF with the virus from space? You really want that out on th' city?”

“It's covered,” Ian muttered. “Now that we got the guy responsible for it, it's only a matter of time until Intelligence recovers him from his hidey-hole. So…what was Yoshida involved for?”

Samsara reached up to scratch at the top of his head, the material of his hood preventing a satisfying action. “I'm starving. All this work and no grub makes me cranky. I might have a more sensitive trigger finger later on.”

Ian gave him a skeptic look, but there was a smile tugging at his lips. “We can't have that. I've got…MRE?”

“Ugh. I may be who I am, but I got taste buds,” Samsara muttered, rising to his feet. “You snoop around again, Peters, an' I'mina get personal. Leave. Your. Friend. Alone.”

“How dare you insinuate I'm spying upon my, er, `friend'. I told you, I'm merely providing civilian protection services.”

“Don't make me get into detail.”

“Fine. But I can't guarantee accidently finding out what that paperwork was that Adam gave—”

He exhaled heavily as Samsara kicked him lightly, the move sending him wheeling back a few feet. By the time he straightened and regained some of his breathing ability back, the East Sider was gone. He stilled and allowed his own senses to gain some insight of the area; he heard children and traffic all around him, felt the hot breeze of Santa Ana winds against his exposed eyes, and felt nothing of the excited chill he always felt knowing that Samsara was nearby.

With a sullen frown, he grumbled over missed opportunities and radioed in for release of radio silence.