+16 months, 32.02 days fusion point
"Performance issues?" Buck stared at the other man, the irony of it almost more than he could bear, and way more than he could contain, even if he'd wanted to. "You're having performance issues?"So much for keeping things nice and neutral between them. This was going to be a short call, he thought, already leaning forward to slap the connection closed. He should never have come back to the room this early, or he should have gone to bed as soon as he'd had the chance. Chris hadn't taken to waking him from sleep yet, and he could fake it long enough to be left alone.
Chris' jaw tightened, but he held his temper. Something in his eyes worried at Buck, but he was too upset to consider it right now. "Buck, please -"
"What," he snarled, "Vin ain't hot enough for you? Or ain't he let you fuck him yet - or he won't fuck you? That it, Chris?" He cackled, a sound he usually reserved for when he was truly happy, not when he was feeling vengeful.
Chris looked down, and Buck saw his eye twitching slightly. But his lover - no, he caught himself, Vin's lover, just someone Buck used to know well, spoke calmly, his temper reined. "Could be that I'm not in love with him and he's not in love with me."
Buck snorted. The response was right on the tip of his tongue, ready for delivery, when Chris continued just as casually, "Could be that trying to do him, trying to do me, and trying to think only of you is one thing too many to be trying." Chris was looking at him, those eyes tired but something dark behind them that Buck ignored.
He tried to hold onto the anger. Dammit, he had every right to be upset. He did. "Trying to think of me?" he asked. "Maybe if you stopped, you wouldn't be having this little performance issue - "
"You're right," Chris cut in. "I wouldn't be able to do anything at all."
Buck glared at him, wishing they were in the same room so he could hit him, wrap his hands around his throat, slam him up against a wall, kiss him -
"If it weren't for this damned radiation thing, I wouldn't have any attraction to him at all. Buck, how long have you known me? Him? He's my closest friend, but he's not you. He's not the person I want to sleep with. He's not the one I'm in love with. You are. Touching him . . . it doesn't work for either of us, not like that. It's all in the radiation, that's all."
It seemed like he'd been hearing that forever, even though it'd only been about ten days. Ten days since he'd awakened in the hospital to the elation of the staff and people around him, to the news that some miracle had happened and the major cannons had been active. One of the Albie battle cruisers had been blown out of the sky, taking with it a third of the Albie fleet. He hadn't truly realized the importance of it until he and Josiah had left the hospital and gone to lunch, gone out into the public.
The enthusiasm and happiness of the people around them, the survivors, had been contagious, and for a while, he'd allowed himself to share in it. Until they'd returned to the complex and he'd remembered why they'd been so successful this time.
"You're not blaming this one on me," he said flatly, but even as he did, he knew it was not Chris who would do it, it was himself.
Chris didn't say anything, he didn't have to.
When the silence was too heavy, Buck sighed, scratching at his head, despite the bandage still wrapped tightly around it. "What do you want from me?" he mumbled, wishing he had some sort of self control.
Chris waited a few more seconds before answering softly, "I need you to be with me."
Buck frowned, wondering if Mary was wrong and he had some worse head problem than she though. "I don't understand."
Chris nodded, taking a deep breath. "I need you to be with me. I need to see you. Hear you."
It took another few seconds, but it finally permeated the density of his head. "You want me to watch the two of you have sex."
Chris had the good grace to blush, and Buck knew the other man hadn't thought of it quite that way. But he didn't break eye contact, nor did he deny. Instead, answered, "I want you to do what we've been doing. I want to have sex with you."
Buck swallowed. "But with Vin in the room with you."
He watched the play of Chris' eyes, knew that his lover had already thought of this, but was having a hard time getting it out of his mouth.
It was the first moment of victory he felt he'd had in this whole mess.
And it hurt like hell. It was a surprise, actually; he'd thought he was beyond being able to feel anything about this.
"You can have someone in the room with you. If you want to."
Not only could he feel, he could feel worse. The simple words cut through him with their implication that Chris would relinquish his possession, his jealous control and dominance.
He jerked, his fury returning so fast that it almost made him dizzy.
"I'd prefer if you keep the light low, though," Chris continued, his gaze now directed away, his voice rough. "And I don't want to know who it is. I just want you, Buck, just you."
He'd seen Chris cry, even recently, in the frustration of all of this. But seeing it now, watching him fall apart, it stopped every reaction Buck could have had. It was too fast, too close. When they'd started this damnable conversation, Chris had been up, more up than Buck had seen since before it all went to hell.
"Now, Chris," he sighed, "damn it, why - "
"I want this war to be over," Chris said, his voice rasping worse than Vin's. "I want you safe, and the others. I want the damned geniuses to spend their time getting us fixed and out of here. None of that is going to happen as long as the Albies are attacking us."
It was so simple when he said it like that, with the complete conviction that Chris Larabee had when he made a decision and made everyone else bend to it.
And Buck knew in that instant just how completely Chris would bend everyone else. "You talked to Vin about any of this?"
Chris wiped at his face. "He ain't really got a say in this."
The easy disregard of it burned in his gut, but worse, it pushed the alarms in his head from a low-level hum to a mid-level ringing. "That don't seem rightly fair," he said, a small part of him wondering how exactly he had come to be Vin's defender suddenly.
"Ain't one damned part of this fair," Chris breathed, "ain't fair that I'm in here and you're out there, that the Albies started this and won't leave us alone, that Vin and me are the only two who can do anything about it and what we have to do is on the wrong side of every single decent thing and most of the wrong ones. But fairness ain't the issue, surviving is, and getting us out of here so we can be together - if you'll still have me."
The implicit question was still too big to answer, so he didn't. Instead, he countered, "Vin has a say in this. What I think is you need to talk to him before you start inviting me and anyone out in the street to this party."
Chris watched him, his face impassive for a few seconds, before he reached for the keyboard.
It took a few tries; Vin didn't seem to want to answer and it wasn't until Chris growled an actual warning that he was going to come get him that Buck's monitor screen split, resolving into Chris' face on one side and Vin's on the other.
The instant hostility rushed to the front of his brain, and Buck found himself glaring at the new arrival, barely checking the desire to put his fist through the screen.
But an actual look at Vin gave him pause. 'Drugged,' he thought first, then 'suicidal', his mind searching for memories of how Vin had looked before his attempt. But he hadn't seen Vin then, in that short time; it had been only a few hours between the conversation with Charlotte and the breaking of the ceramic plate, and Buck had been with the others on a mission.
Chris took control, his voice flat. "Fowler thinks we're almost done, maybe two, three more times. I want - I need for Buck to be involved."
Vin blinked, his own eyes moving slow, almost lazily, between them before he spoke. "He can take my place."
It was supposed to be funny, but the strain in his voice was real, as was desperation.
Buck swallowed. "Vin, you all right?"
The blue eyes glittered as they met Buck's, looking wild and fierce and about as desperate as Chris'. "Want out of here."
Buck nodded, wary. "I know," he agreed. "You all right with all the rest of it?"
Vin stared at him, as if he didn't understand the question.
"Vin!" Chris snapped, making Buck flinch. "Wake up!"
Vin's eyes dropped and he mumbled, "Yeah, whatever it takes."
Something awful crept into Buck's thoughts, and he turned to Chris, not able to put words to it.
Chris glared, but after a few seconds, his temper cooled. "Told you," he said, his tone softer, "he don't like it. I don't like it. We just want to get out of here, Buck, and if this is what we got to do to do it, then it's what we do. Don't want anything happening to anybody else we care about, right, Vin?"
"Wh'ever it takes," Vin mumbled again, like it was a mantra.
Buck shivered, wondering how close to madness he was.
How close to madness they both were.
Chris' voice was even softer now, gentle. "He doesn't know how to deal with it, liking it. I'm not hurting him. He don't get off on it. Do you, Vin?"
Vin shook his head, once, his hair loose and tangled and dragging against the fraying cloth of his shirt.
Buck swallowed again, his heart beating a little faster now. "How many times have you . . ." The question died as Vin visibly shuddered, his shoulders hunching.
"You don't know?" Chris said, no sarcasm in his voice. "Too many. The last time almost didn't happen. That's why I need you, Buck. Guess we're getting used to the attraction. I am, anyway. Vin still goes up like a firecracker when I touch him, Fowler says that changing his ionization made him more influenced by mine than mine by his. All I gotta do is focus my attention on him and get my hands on him, and he's ready to go. Maybe not as willing. Have to chase him around his room almost every time, fight him to get my hands on him long enough to make him want it."
Buck wasn't aware of gripping the arm of the chair until it finally cracked, the wood giving way. It hadn't been that long - just days, yet they were both bordering on something black and dangerous.
Chris rambled on, his voice light. "Don't need but a couple more times, Buck, maybe three. One more big ship, Fowler thinks, says it might be expecting us to have the cannons this time, since we did last time, but the great minds have figured out some other things that might work, so they need more energy than before. We've already stored up one cannon, but they have two more that need to be operational. Then some reserves. So three, at the most. We could even cut that down some, I guess, if you and me, Buck, if we can spend some time - how are you feeling? How's your head? And the leg, how's the leg? Is it too soon for you to be having sex? Don't want you to be hurting, I can maybe get Vin to stop playing so hard to get, Fowler says he has some more drugs, some stronger ones that will help him like it more . . ."
The words went on, but Buck couldn't make them register. The behavior was extreme, confirmation that something else was at play. He needed to talk to Mary and Terry; Fowler, too, except that he was afraid he'd kill the bastard.
"Buck?"
He jerked his attention back to the monitor to find Chris frowning, his eyes bright with annoyance and Vin still hunched, his face turned away and hidden by his hair.
"You all right?" Chris demanded, his tone harder now.
"Yeah, Chris, sorry," he said without thinking. "Just a headache. Guess I ain't all here yet. Mary says they'll come and go for a while."
Chris' frown deepened. "It is too soon. I shouldn't be bothering you with this."
"No, no," Buck rushed, all of his previous anger gone in the face of this revelation. "But I do think I need a little rest right now. Reckon you and Vin could use some too, Vin? You still with us?"
Vin made a little noise, his head seeming to move in the shadows.
"He's fine," Chris said, impatient. "You go on, Buck, get better. We'll manage without you, have so far."
Vin jerked a little at the words, stepping backward and out of the camera's lens.
"Now, Chris, you just hang on for a little while," Buck rushed. "Won't take me but a little while, just a quick nap. You leave Vin alone for right now, no use pushing something too fast, right?"
Chris shrugged, frowning again. "We'll do whatever it takes, Buck. Fowler wants it as soon as possible, says that he's not sure when the Albies will attack again. Might be soon. Need to be ready. Vin likes it, too much maybe. Scares him. Keep telling him you taught me everything you know."
For the first time in his life, Buck regretted ever using those words. "You leave him be, Chris, let him have a rest too. Be better for all of us if we're all rested up." He smiled, hoping he didn't sound as stupid as he thought he did.
Chris arched one eyebrow. "You telling me what to do, Buck?"
There was a small sound in the background, and Buck thought it might have been Vin, but he didn't let himself wonder, not now. "Now, Chris, I just want it to be good for all of us. Been a while since I been able to see you. Don't want you too tuckered out when we get the chance."
Chris' expression didn't waver, but something seemed to slowly change. After a few seconds, he said, "I hear you. You get some rest."
The connection went dead, both of them, leaving Buck staring stupidly at an empty screen.
He didn't have time to get his head together though; before he could formulate who to talk to and how to ask, the tinny chime of the suite door sounded. Ezra, he thought, even as he had a vague recall of the other man mentioning some job.
"Who changed the fucking code?" he snarled as he moved into the common room, slapping at the door release. But as the door slid open, he saw a stranger on the other side.
He was slender, his hair cut regulation short, his uniform clean and pressed but not perfect. He smiled affably at Buck, looking up at him with dark eyes. "Captain Wilmington?"
Buck stared at him for just a few seconds before answering, "Yeah, but this ain't the best time. I've got to find - "
"I'm afraid that Dr. Travis and Dr. Greer are not available at the moment. They've both been reassigned to the trauma centers, where they are really needed right now. We've all got to do our best for the war effort."
It took Buck several more seconds to make all the connections. When he did, his first instinct was to punch this guy in the face.
"Blackfox," the man said, oblivious to his imminent hurt, "Lieutenant John Blackfox. Can we talk?"
"You work for Fowler?" Buck said, amazed at how even his voice came out. "He send you?"
"As a matter of fact, I do and he did." Blackfox smiled.
It was probably that easy expression on his face that blew Buck's control.
He wasn't really aware of grabbing the guy's collar or jerking him into the common room or twisting him around so that he was bent backwards over the table. He was just suddenly aware of those eyes looking up at him, as wide as Vin's had ever been, the man's fingers digging into his wrists as Blackfox tried to loosen Buck's choke hold on him.
"Whoa! Hang on," Blackfox wheezed, "just wait a second!"
"What the hell has Fowler done to them?" Buck spat, tightening his fists even more. He was academically aware of the other man's face starting to turn a deep red color, but he was far more intent on the words coming from his mouth.
"Dr. Fowler is trying to help them," Blackfox said, "trying to make it easier! Let me up, let me breathe -"
"Buck!"
Dark hands appeared to cover his own, a long, hard body pressed up against his back, and then Nathan's voice in his ear, strong and worried.
"Let go of him!"
The fact that Blackfox was turning purple, a nice contrast to Nathan's brown skin, was almost enough to distract him, but Nathan was persistent and his tone was sharp as he continued, "Dammit, Buck! This ain't gonna help Chris!"
It must be love, he thought as he let Nathan pull his hands away. Nathan pulled him back, so that Blackfox rolled to one side, gasping, then fell to his knees on the floor. Nathan dropped next to him, checking his vitals while Buck watched, the rage rolling through him in waves that took his own breath.
"You want me to call for help?" Nathan asked Blackfox. He glanced up at Buck, his face stormy. "Medical or - otherwise?"
But Blackfox was shaking his head, even as he coughed out, "No, no, just a little . . . misunderstanding."
"Little, my ass," Buck seethed, thinking about wrapping his fingers once more around Blackfox's neck.
"Just calm down, Buck," Nathan ordered, pushing himself up. "What the hell is going on?"
"Have you talked to Chris or Vin lately? In the past several days?"
Nathan inhaled deeply, looking from Buck to Blackfox and back, before saying, "I talked to Vin two days ago. He was all right, a little out of it, but all right. I tried yesterday and he didn't answer." He hesitated, then said evenly, "He's worse?"
Buck turned on him, his surprise just barely containing his anger. "You knew? And you didn't -"
"What, Buck? What do you want me to do?" Nathan's voice was as loud as Buck's now, his own hands waving in the air. "Let Vin go through this tense and alone? What the hell difference does it make if I knew - what the hell could I do? What the hell can any of us do?"
And there it was, the cold shower drenching his fury. He stood, trying to wrap his mind around the question, trying to find the answer.
As he stood, Blackfox struggled to his feet, clearing his throat. "Dr. Fowler understands how frustrating this situation is. He sent me to try to explain -"
"Explain it," Buck found his voice finally. "Yeah, you do that. Explain to me why Fowler pulled Mary and Terry off this project."
Blackfox had the good sense to back up several steps, putting more distance between him and Buck, but it was Nathan who turned and snapped, "What? He pulled Dr. Travis?"
"She was needed - at the hospital!" Blackfox said, holding up his hands defensively. "We're at war, remember? These last attacks have been terrible!"
"Yeah, we know," Nathan said shortly. "We've been there."
"Oh, of course," Blackfox said, "I didn't mean to suggest otherwise! But the thing is, you know how bad it is, probably worse that I do. I mean, Captain Wilmington, you were just released from the hospital - and your friend JD is still here, and - "
"What's your point?" Buck snarled, one foot moving forward as he shifted his weight.
Blackfox's eyes got wider, but to his credit, he didn't back away. He stood a little straighter and said, "I'm here to talk to you about the Larabee-Tanner project. Do you want to hear what I have to say? Captain Wilmington, this is not a threat, but you seriously need to consider how involved you want to be with this. Dr. Fowler wants your involvement and your help, but given how difficult that might be for you, this is your chance to shut yourself out now and be done with it."
'Be done with it'.
He knew what the words meant, and one part of him actually listened, thinking seriously about it. It had been so long, and there was looking to be no end in sight. Chris had already slept with Vin, was sleeping with Vin, despite everything Buck had sacrificed.
And now Fowler was in complete control.
The words came from deep inside, from a place as dark and cold as the place Chris was in. "Then I'm done with it."
As he turned, he caught a flash of Nathan, slack-jawed and stunned, heard Blackfox sputter, "But, that's not what you're supposed to do! Dr. Fowler said you'd never - "
The sounds of the two men calling to him were muted as the door to his quarters slid shut, then silenced completely as the crash of his comm unit breaking into a million pieces echoed through their quarters.
+16 months, 34.18 days fusion point
Ezra shuffled the cards patiently, pretending not to notice that Buck was pacing, that Josiah wasn't really reading his book, and Nathan wasn't really watching the news feed. Three and a half days more or less. He really wished he'd been able to get Nathan and Josiah to bet on it, but it had been perhaps less than couth, and Josiah's disappointed expression had been even worse than Nathan's derision.It wasn't as if any of them had actually thought Buck would maintain his abandonment of Chris, or Vin. It wasn't possible for a man of Buck's character to stay angry long enough to end a long-term friendship and relationship, and certainly not under these conditions.
Now, it was just a matter of Buck arriving at the conclusion himself and admitting to it.
"He talked to y'all?" Buck asked after a while, his pacing alternating with long stops in front of the window, staring across the valley to the research complex where Chris and Vin were kept.
Ezra glanced to his teammates, ready to let one of them take the lead in the conversation. As he expected, Josiah took up the topic.
"Chris? Or Vin?"
Chris had called them all. Vin had called none of them, and nor had he returned any of their calls. Ezra had gone over to the complex itself, tried to get Vin to at least come into the visiting room, but Merric, the aid on duty that night, had shaken his head at Ezra when Vin had refused.
"Fowler," Buck answered shortly. "He talked to any of you about - all of this?"
Josiah studied Buck for just a few seconds before saying quietly, "You know he did, Buck. He can't keep them in complete isolation and have them stay sane."
"That what he wants, to keep them sane? Seems to be it'd be easier for him if they were both crazy, where he could keep them hyped up on drugs and sex and power the whole fucking world."
Josiah looked back down to his book, but his words were clear. "He talked to you, Buck?"
Buck laughed, one short, unhappy sound. "He's tried. Got several messages from him to call or to call Blackfox. I'm guessing things ain't going as well as he'd like."
"Why don't you talk to one of them?" Josiah suggested. "Maybe they can answer your questions."
"Did he answer yours?" Buck asked coldly. "Or did he just tell you that this was the way it was going to be and there wasn't anything we could do about it?"
Josiah glanced to Nathan, who shook his head. The medic's face was tight with his own frustration, as much at Buck as at Fowler.
Ezra put the deck down on the table, folding his hands across the top of it. "Do you see an option in this situation that the rest of us have missed? If you have, I, for one, would welcome it. But from what I've seen and what I've been told by people I trust - not Fowler, I hasten to add, but others, we are in a tenuous position. The Albouais have one more battle-cruiser. We have enough power to destroy it if we can get to it, but we don't have the resources to survive a direct hit to either of our two remaining power stations or to aid any large numbers of casualties. We are as much against the wall as the Albouais are at this point."
"We've lost 24 million people since this started, Buck," Nathan said, his voice cold. "Our hospitals are overcrowded, we're short on personnel to care for them, short on all medications, and now we've got radiation sickness too from the second quadrant. We're at the end of our rope."
Buck rubbed at his face, his broad shoulders slumping. His uniform was wrinkled and stained; Ezra knew he hadn't returned to their shared quarters the past few nights, suspected he'd been out trying to find solace in anonymous beds. He'd left off his bandage and his hair was untidy, splotchy around the healing wound. "So it's all right, what he's doing to them. What he's doing to us."
"Hell no!" Nathan erupted. He pointed the remote at the monitor, terminating the feed. "Of course it ain't right! But you tell me, what options do we have? 24 million, Buck - million. And there's twice that many injured! Men, women, children - especially the children. You go walking into a hospital, see a kid who's on life support then try to explain to his parents why he died - because there wasn't enough power to keep the machines going until he could do it on his own! Or hell - you go up there and watch JD! Where the hell do you think the power's coming from that's keeping him alive?"
It wasn't the argument Ezra would have used, not this early. But then, he'd never been successful at winning an argument with either Wilmington or Larabee, and perhaps this was why.
Buck shook his head, but Josiah was the one who spoke next. "In the end, it all comes down to what we have to do to live with ourselves. We all agree that it's a horrible thing to do to Chris and Vin. But if they ever get out of this, do you think they could ever forgive themselves if they knew that they had had the power to save so many lives and hadn't done it? No matter what the cause is, this is one of those cases where the end may justify the means."
"You feel the same way, Ezra?" Buck asked, and Ezra didn't miss the fact that Buck didn't abbreviate his name.
"As to what aspect of this?" he asked, more to buy time than to actually get a response.
"The ends justifying the means." His voice was hoarse now, but Ezra knew the battle was, effectively, over.
"As I said, I see no other option. They are the only two who can do what must be done. It is unfortunate that they have to carry that burden and that it must be at such a personal price for them, but two people versus the remaining population of this planet. . . " He lifted his hands in a sort of surrender.
Buck nodded, a movement more to himself than to them, then said quietly. "Do me a favor? Call Blackfox, tell him to come here. I need to clean up, change clothes."
"Not Fowler?" Josiah asked.
Buck's face was pale as he turned to look at them. "Only if you want him dead."
There was no question about the promise in the words.
Blackfox came in wary, looking much like the weasel Ezra had expected. There were dark bruises around the skinny column of his throat, and Ezra wondered again that Fowler hadn't had Buck arrested. A leverage point, he thought, a threat that would only work if there were other factors at play, such as Buck wanting to be where he could talk to Chris.
As Buck hadn't put in an appearance yet, and Nathan and Josiah were pointedly ignoring the newcomer, Ezra gestured toward a chair at the table and shuffling the cards with one hand, he asked, "Might I interest you in a game of chance, Lieutenant?"
Several hands later, and somewhat poorer, Blackfox almost looked relieved when Buck finally came into the room.
Ezra wasn't surprised that there was no pretense of politeness.
"Why is Fowler trying to get in contact with me?" Buck stood just inside the room, his arms crossed over his chest.
Blackfox glanced to the others. "He just wants to be sure that you're still comfortable with your decision -"
"I ain't in the mood to play games, Blackfox. If he needs my help, you'd better start coming clean now."
Ezra found himself fighting back a smile; he'd forgotten how sharp Buck was, when he wanted to be.
Blackfox had no knowledge of this harshness in Buck and his grin faltered. "Dr. Fowler has everything well in hand - "
Buck turned and was already stepping back into his room when Blackfox's voice rose. "No, wait! I - wait!"
Buck stopped but didn't turn around. "Talk fast," he snarled.
Blackfox looked around, perhaps hoping for some help from the others. Finding none, he said, "There might be a few problems. Major Larabee is still having, um, well, the last time wasn't effective. Dr. Fowler thinks that there's a problem, that the drugs alone don't work -"
"Get him on the comm," Buck spat. "Let's see how much he wants my help."
Ezra was glad afterwards that he hadn't placed any bets on this one. He would have lost. Buck was more like Chris than Chris was. He didn't waste time with any pleasantries here, either, glaring at Fowler as his face materialized on the monitor.
"You say they're the key to saving this planet, and you want me to help you get them to do this - this - thing? Then you have to help me help them. You call Dr. Travis back here right now, and I mean right now, because whoever dies at that trauma center will be dead anyway, if we don't get Chris participating. And I'm not going to help you do that until I talk to Dr. Travis."
Fowler was still for several seconds, before saying, "I don't know if you have the power you think you have."
Buck said nothing, simply lifting one arm from where it rested across the other and moving it to the connection console.
"Are you really going to let more people die?" Fowler said, but it was rapid, as if he thought his argument might work. "Millions, Wilmington, and you can stop it - "
"No, Fowler," Buck said, and he smiled, a smile Ezra hoped he never saw again. "You can."
"Wait." The word was sharp, but there was the faint cut of desperation in Fowler's voice. Movement caught Ezra's eye, and he turned to find Blackfox hovering, taking a step closer to Buck but his reluctance and fear were visible.
Buck didn't still but he slowed.
"I'll have her contact you immediately," Fowler said. "And you will contact Larabee."
Buck said nothing, did nothing, and Ezra knew this was, in truth, the point.
The silence grew long, and Blackfox grew more agitated, finally stepping almost up to Buck.
Perhaps it was his proximity that finally stirred Buck to response. "Just as soon as I get a new comm unit," he said shortly. "Reckon you can have that here about the same time I finish talking to Mary."
He broke the connection then, his head dropping slightly.
"Well, then," Blackfox said, stepping away. "Do you have any preferences for your comm system? I'll make sure you get . . . " His words drifted into nothing as Buck walked away, not acknowledging him at all.
"I'd recommend something with a strong frame," Josiah said as the door to Buck's quarters shut behind him. "And a wall-size monitor with extra thick plexi."
+16 months, 35.31 days fusion point
Buck had arrived early at the small restaurant, as much to check for anyone following him as to get out of the complex. He'd been relieved and depressed at the contact from Mary when it had come several hours after he'd terminated the call with Fowler.He was committed now.
Not that he'd planned to back out of it; for two days, he'd tried everything he could to keep his anger alive, to not think about Chris and what he had given up. That had included ending up in strange beds with soft, willing bodies, sweet smiles, and the inability to do more than kiss, cuddle, and sleep too lightly and too little. Neither woman had made a lot out of his lack of desire to penetrate them, blaming it on the wound in his groin that was still healing, but he had known it for what it was: guilt and fear.
And maybe love, but he was trying hard not to think on that now. It was too big and too painful.
She came in fast, her hair unbound and bouncing on her shoulders, her face grim. She did smile slightly as she approached the table where he sat, her smile widening more when he rose to meet her.
"Mary," he said with a sigh, pleased when, as he held out his hand to her, she moved past it to give him a hug.
"I don't know what you did," she said, "but thank you. I can't believe that bastard had me blocked from the project."
She drew away, letting him help her get seated. The waitress was quick to get their orders, which was easy with the rationing, then left them alone.
They sat in silence at first, just looking at each other. She was tired, too, and he could imagine what she had been through these last days.
"I don't regret what I've been doing, Buck," she said, reading his mind a little, "and I'll go back to it as soon as I'm needed again. But I'll do everything I can for Chris and Vin, too. I had Fowler send me all the current reports before I'd agree to take the position back. They're . . . well, they'd have to be better than they were, but it's still bad. He had them so loaded up it's a wonder they could stand, much less. . . " She stopped, looking down at the table.
"Apparently they couldn't," Buck said, almost smiling. Almost. "That's why he's willing to negotiate with me."
She nodded, a little cold smile of her own playing at her pale features. "And you're going to do what he wants? Help them to . . . "
"Help them to save us all? Reckon so." He picked up his beer, taking a long swallow.
She shook her head, but she didn't argue. "I've invested over a year of my life in them, in trying to help them survive this until we can get them out. The very idea that he's doing this, that he's got the authority and support of the Administration to force them to . . ." She sipped from her own glass, but it was water; she was going back to her office, to her work with Chris, when she left here. "If I thought there was another way, Buck, I'd refuse to do this myself. If I thought we couldn't eventually get them out of there, I'd have slipped them something, a poison or something. I'm a doctor, I believe in healing people, not this torture."
The vehemence in her voice made him truly smile, and without a thought, he let his hand fall to rest on hers. "So we get them through this, get that last battle cruiser destroyed so that we can start rebuilding. When that's over, you and me go out to dinner somewhere like this, somewhere private, and we set a date. If you can't find a way to recover them by that date, you make good on what you just said."
She jerked, her hand tensing under his as her head rose just a little higher, her eyes searching his. "I . . ."
"He's not living, Mary, they're not living." He swallowed, looked away as his eyes clouded. "What's going on in there is worse than dying, and we all know it. So here's the thing: we get through this, let them save what we can from this situation by getting the Albies off our back. That'll give you time to get back to the research. If you can't find something in six months, somewhere to at least begin, we get them out of there."
She stared at him, then her eyes clouded as well. Unlike him, her tears did fall, sliding slowly down her cheeks. But her voice was level as she said, "All right. If we haven't found some clear direction, some plan, and if they haven't found some way to cope any better, I'll do it."
"That's an awful lot of 'ifs', Mary," Buck warned, letting his other thumb move to wipe at her face.
She didn't pull away at his touch. "You're asking me to murder the men who will be saving our whole civilization. It won't be an easy thing to do. Sure as hell won't be something they deserve."
She was right, and the impact of what they were talking about hit him hard. "I know," he said letting his hand fall away from her face. "But it'd be better than letting them suffer like this. Heroes don't deserve that torture."
She nodded once, pulling her hand free of his and wiping at her face. "You know, it's not going to be as simple as just ending the war."
He started to answer, but the waitress returned with their meals, giving him a few seconds to collect himself. As she left again, he found Mary looking at him, her eyes sad.
"Rebuilding," she said, making no move to eat. "I've seen plans, heard conversations... Fowler and the people he works for won't turn their backs on their need for energy to rebuild. I can't promise that what Chris and Vin are required to do will stop just because we win this last battle."
"Yeah," he agreed, picking at his own food. "Kinda hard to ignore something as efficient as the Larabee-Tanner project when things are as bad off as they are now. But let's cross that bridge when we come to it. Let's get through the present." He was tired, in a way that a year and a half of being without his partner and a year and a half of war couldn't have made him alone. Tired in his very soul. "We don't take out that Albie warship, I don't think anything else is going to matter."
She dabbed at her eyes with her napkin, smearing the makeup she still took pains to apply every day. "No, you're right. It won't." She tried to smile at him, a pretty lady trying to be strong. "One day at a time."
He nodded, not tasting the bite of food that made it into his mouth. "One day at a time."
"Fowler's already started cutting back the drugs," she said as if it were conversational, and perhaps, after the intensity of the last few minutes, it was, he wasn't certain any longer. "Chris won't have as hard a time as Vin will. His combinations were so strong and so complex that it's a wonder he could stand up."
Buck remembered the last time he had talked to Vin. "He 'bout couldn't," he conceded. "Looked like hell."
She nodded. "It's not going to be easy. For any of you."
"I know." The thought of watching Chris touch someone else, of talking him through it. . . He almost gagged on the food in his mouth, only the beer washing it down. Chris couldn't get it up without him, but in the face of what that meant he was going to have to do, it was no longer a comfort. "One day at a time," he said, more to himself than to her.
This time, it was her hand that covered his on the table, squeezing in reassurance.
He took a deep breath, not liking what he was going to say next, but he'd thought on it long and deep for the past several days. "Back when this all started, after that first time, on the treadmill," her hand clutched at his and her body straightened, but he plowed on, "you and Terry mentioned footage of what had happened. I need to see it now, it, and the times since."
She swallowed, still not yet touching her food. "Are you sure about that, Buck? I don't see how it's going to help you - "
"I need to see just how much control Chris has over Vin, how much . . . " He pulled away from her, unable to finish the thought. It was so far from what he had ever thought of his lover, his partner, that the words themselves couldn't make it past the back of his throat.
"I haven't . . . I don't know how the last week has been . . . " She lifted her glass a took a long drink, buying her own time.
"I need to know," he said quietly. "I need to know how much of it is real, and how much of it is because of the drugs and the radiation and - "
"It's all real, Buck," she said, cutting him off. "No matter what's causing them to do this, they are doing it, and you won't get any reassurance otherwise. It's going to hurt you - it's painful to watch and I'm not even invested in it emotionally. Do you honestly think that you need to see it?"
He looked at her, his head starting to throb again. "I been trying not to think on it, for days now. But if I'm gonna be able to help them, if I'm gonna be able to get through this, yeah, Mary, I need to know."
She sighed. "I'll see what I can do. But you better be sure, Buck. And you make sure before you say anything to Chris. If it breaks you, I don't want to have to pick up those pieces either."
"Yeah, I know," he answered. "I haven't talked to Chris in days, and I don't plan to say anything until I know what I can handle. The last time I talked to him, and to Vin, it was like I didn't know them. I know I can't handle that, Mary, but I also know that I'll do anything I can to get them out of that place."
She smiled at him. "Then let's do what we can," she agreed. "One step at a time."
They left most of their food still on the plate, no amount of forced cheerfulness able to compensate for the cold truths that had come with them to the table.
+17 months, 01.15 days fusion point
Chris pushed himself away from the toilet, watching the sparkling colors swirl and vanish down the drain. He was shaky, sweaty, and damned tired of this.Four days so far, and even though he was getting better, the bouts of nausea less frequent, they still seemed as intense and debilitating.
God damn Fowler.
It wasn't the first time he'd thought it, and he suspected it wouldn't be the last. He'd been cooperating, been trying his damnedest to do what was required but Fowler had drugged him to the point that he could barely remember what had happened. What he had last said to Buck.
When he had last seen Buck.
Damn Fowler.
"Chris?" Mary's voice was soft and clear through whichever set of speakers they'd installed in this room. "Are you all right?"
"No, I'm not," he answered, but he knew he was directing his anger the wrong way.
She seemed to know it, too, but she was, as always, pleasant. "I know it doesn't seem so, but you're doing a lot better. Your system should be almost back to normal in just another couple of days. Try to drink more water - and yes, I know, it's difficult to keep it down, but a lot of the pain and the headaches will pass if you stay hydrated."
He'd come to hate that word.
He made his way out the door and across the study to the cooling box, fumbling out a bottle of water. Unlike the ones Fowler had sent to them, this one was neither colored nor labeled. No difference between his and Vin's now.
Vin.
He must've held the bottle too long, his thoughts too obvious, for Mary said quietly, "Vin's having more problems - he's still keeping little down. We haven't tried solid food with him yet."
Served him right, a vindictive part of him thought. If he'd cooperated, none of these drugs would have been necessary.
But even as he thought it, he knew it wasn't all Vin's fault. His own body had betrayed him, unable to do what was necessary even in the rare moments that Vin was willing.
Which led him back to Buck.
He couldn't blame his lover - hell, if Buck had asked of him what he knew he'd asked of Buck, he'd have shot someone. Probably Buck.
He missed him, though, not just as a contact point to the outside world, but because he was Buck. Because he loved him, needed him, wanted him in all the ways that Vin would never replace.
The thought of spending the rest of his life with just Vin for company was enough to make him wish the drugs had killed him. Not that it was Vin's fault. But their friendship was no substitute for his love for Buck. And, as had already been proven, sex with Vin was no substitute either.
It was getting harder not to resent the other man, not for being who he was, but for being who he wasn't. It wasn't fair to wish that Buck had been in that reactor room with him, but if could do it over again, with the knowledge he had now . . .
"Chris?"
He was still staring at the bottle, he realized. "Yeah," he answered, twisting off the metal cap and tossing it toward the recycle bin. As he drank, sipping in case his stomach revolted, she continued.
"Buck asked me to tell you that he'll be in touch soon. He's getting a new comm unit, which is taking longer than expected."
She said it so normally that he almost believed her. No, he believed her, she wasn't that good a liar. It was what she wasn't saying that he took a second to hear, and it almost made him smile. Buck had destroyed the comm unit in their room. How funny. That had always been Chris' temper-tantrum destruction.
"He's pretty pissed," he said as casually as she had, hoping to get an honest answer.
"Well, he's as upset by all of this as the rest of us are."
He couldn't hardly argue about that; Buck was pissed, no doubt about that. Perhaps permanently so.
"Vin's pretty upset too," she said, a little more delicately. "And he's not doing well, Chris. Would you mind checking on him?"
He stopped drinking, letting the bottle slowly tilt away from his mouth. Fuck no, he thought, he would not consider checking on Vin. This whole damned mess could be done already if he had cooperated, just spread his legs and stopped being such a prima dona about the whole thing.
It wasn't Chris' fault that Vin was so sick, that they'd had to force him to cooperate -
"Chris?" Mary asked. "Should I get one of our people suited up?"
God damn it. "No, I'll go." He sighed, lifted the bottle again to his lips and drank slowly, very slowly, almost wishing it would come back up and he could put this off.
The way was familiar, he'd been there more than enough lately. He squelched the stir in his groin, the conditioned reaction to the walk through the short corridor to Vin's door. That wasn't what this trip was about.
He sounded the chime, annoyed that the doors still didn't just open for him. "Vin!" he called, hating the sound of the name and all it stood for. It seemed an infinity ago that they had been friends and he had welcomed the other man's company. "Vin! Open the damned doors!"
They did slide apart, but it was Mary's voice that said softly, "Sorry, I forgot I hadn't keyed the over ride."
Vin was in the bathroom, sitting on the floor, his back to side of the small shower so that he only had to lean forward to be over the toilet bowl. He was pale and shaking, his breathing in small gasps, a large towel around his shoulders. His eyes were closed, and he didn't seem to know Chris was there. He jumped when Chris bent down, touching the base of a cold water bottle to Vin's forehead.
"No!" he pushed back, trying to fit himself into the little space between the toilet and the wall, "Not now, I ain't in no shape - ."
"I ain't here for that," Chris spat, but a spike of guilt managed to worm its way loose of the mire of anger. "Just making sure you're all right."
Vin was trembling now, his hands barely able to pull the ends of the towel across his chest. "Get out," he rushed, his voice cold, "just get out."
"You're welcome." He almost tossed the full water bottle to the floor, catching himself at the last second with the fact that it would shatter, and that would be another mess he'd probably have to clean up. "Here."
Dropping it into Vin's lap didn't do a lot better, especially as two seconds after it hit his groin, he was bent over the toilet, retching. Or trying to. Like Chris, his body no longer held anything to expel.
It was pathetic to watch, Vin's misery a little too familiar to Chris right now, and despite himself, he washed out a cloth and held it out, careful not to touch the other man as Vin took it from him.
"Pretty bad?" he asked, even though he didn't need to, the answer was obvious. He squatted down, taking the water bottle from where it had ended up on the floor on its side and opening it. "Take a sip or two, slow and easy."
Vin was shaking so bad that he ended up spilling more of it on himself than getting it in, but that was probably better. It didn't come back immediately.
Chris looked at him, watched him, and some of the concern he'd always had for the other man returned. Vin was his friend, had been for a long time, and a damned good one. He'd always supported Chris, even when they'd disagreed. If it had been one of the others, hell, if it'd been anyone other than Buck, he wasn't certain if it would have gotten even this far.
"Hey," he said quietly, kneeling down to be at eye level as Vin blinked his eyes open. They were bloodshot and dull, but mostly, afraid. That was the part that got to Chris, that Vin could no longer look at him without being scared. "I'm sorry," he said.
Vin looked at him for several seconds, as if his brain was trying to wrap around the idea. When it took, he shook his head, looking away. "Yeah, me too." He leaned back, closing his eyes, tugging at the towel. "Don't matter, does it. Won't change one damned thing."
Chris sighed, rubbing a hand through his hair. "You all right? You need anything - anything I can actually get?"
Vin was silent and still, so much so that Chris thought he might have gone to sleep. When he finally spoke, as Chris was getting ready to push himself up and out, it was a little disconcerting.
"What if we never get out of here?" he asked. "You gonna hate me that long?"
Chris hesitated, irritation burning in his gut. "Don't hate you," he said shortly.
Vin snorted, but it was a small sound, as weak as he looked. "You sure as hell ain't liking me much these days. Wish I could take this as well as you have, Chris, but ain't all of us as accepting as you and Buck about being owned by another man. 'Specially one who don't care about . . ."
His words drifted off and he let his head roll to one side. He might have gone to sleep this time, but Chris didn't wait. Something about the direction the words had been taking unsettled him and he didn't want to hear the end of the sentence. He did care about Vin; right now he cared too much.
+17 months, 03.47 days fusion point
"They're not ready," she said coldly, glaring at the man across the table from her. "Vin's barely able to move. Chris is better, but I don't think he'll be all that thrilled with the idea of having to do what you want him to."Fowler's face was like stone, and she knew already that she had lost the argument. Between them, Blackfox sat rigid except for one hand, which drummed annoyingly on the tabletop.
"We have run out of time, Dr. Travis," Fowler said flatly. "It has been over two weeks since the last attack, the longest time period that the Albies have left us alone. Equally as problematic, the reserves are only good for ten days. We have started losing the stored energy and we are going to have to start replacing. We've delayed as long as we can."
She clenched her jaw, aware that she was becoming more like Chris all the time. "Even if they can't give you what you want, you're going to make them try?"
Fowler looked at her, tilting his head to one side. "I know the level of withdrawal - unless your own reports are inaccurate. Lieutenant Tanner is at the point he was at the last time the result was sufficient. Major Larabee is in even better shape. And with the addition of Captain Wilmington to coach them along, they should be able to do what needs to be done to get us to full capacity." He pushed himself away from the table, looking down at her. "I made a mistake before, Dr. Travis, I concede that. But I don't like to make two mistakes in a row. Please don't disappoint me. Or them."
Blackfox rose as well, but Fowler was gone by the time the smaller man got his feet under him.
He smiled at Mary, a nervous little grin that made her ill. "He means well," Blackfox said. "This isn't easy for him either, you know - "
"I've got work to do, Lieutenant," she said shortly. She turned to her monitor, not watching him leave.
She made certain he was gone and the door to her office was closed before connecting to Chris' comm unit.
He was smart; she didn't have to say a word. The look on her face must have told him.
"Out of time," he said by way of greeting. "Buck know?"
She shook her head even as she answered, "I was going to go talk to him. I think it would be better that way." She took a deep breath, but he again got ahead of her.
"Reckon I get to tell Vin."
His features had hardened and she frowned. "Chris, maybe I should - "
"You get to talk to Buck," he said grimly. "If you can get him to help me, I can get Vin in here."
She shook her head. "He's scared, Chris, and he's not completely clear yet, I've been easing him off - "
"So he's a little out of it? That's probably best anyway, isn't it?" He snorted in frustration, looking away from her. "How bad can it be - hell, he gets off!"
She didn't say anything, they'd said all of this so many times before.
After a few seconds, he said more calmly, "Reckon it's tonight, then."
"Soon," she agreed. "I'll let you know after I talk to Buck."
He nodded then closed the connection before anything else was said.
She keyed in Buck's address, but somehow it seemed wrong to try to have this conversation this way. He wasn't back on active duty yet, so when no one answered the chime for the room, she knew he was at the hospital with JD.
She caught him just as he was leaving the floor JD was on, not surprised to see him leaning on the counter of the monitoring station, talking to one of the staff. She waited until he was laughing and backing away before catching his attention.
Unlike Chris, Buck wasn't instantly aware of what was on her mind. It took him through the salutations and the pleasantries and right up to the suggestion that they get something to drink.
He stopped in the middle of the first-floor hallway, his face pale, his eyes wide. "Now?"
"Tonight," she answered softly. "Can we talk?"
He didn't move, didn't answer her, and she caught his wrist, drawing him along and through a door to a side-yard with low seats and small tables. There were people about, but towards the far end, they had privacy.
He didn't disappoint her, asking quietly, " Have you watched those videos? Have you seen what happens between them?"
"Yes," she answered softly. "I know."
Buck looked away, and she saw him shiver slightly. "I've known Chris for so long that I guess I just forgot how . . . determined he can be. 'Specially when he thinks he's right."
"Didn't help that he was with someone else," she murmured, leaning forward to take his hand between hers. "This won't be easy, Buck. Did you see the last time?"
He nodded and seemed to relax just a little. "Wonder Vin could do anything, he was so stoned he - "
"I know. That's part of why the drugs are out, at least for the moment." She let him mull it for a few seconds, then asked, "Are you going to be able to help, Buck?"
He sighed, his answer a rambling way to avoid the issue. "I couldn't watch some of them, the ones in the middle. Bad enough to watch him touching another man, but to watch Vin - he was so torn up, but he couldn't stop himself, like one of them cheap romance women. So angry but not able to stop himself. Gonna be worse tonight, Mary, that last time, even so drugged up, it was there in his eyes, this whole thing scares him. And it should, I guess, but I don't know if I can help him with that. Don't know if I can live with myself helping Chris do that to him."
She let her hands tighten on his. "I understand. But, let me ask you, Buck, would it be better for Vin to let Fowler find some other way? Could you live with yourself better knowing he was shooting Vin up with some sort of drug that would make him physically respond despite being hurt?"
Buck's head turned so fast that she heard the whoosh of air. "Could he - are there drugs that - fuck."
"Blackfox knows about them, I saw the report on his desk. Fowler started with trying to force a mood. But he could change it now, use drugs that affect the physical. It's going to happen, if he has to hold one or both of them down and - well, it's going to happen."
She knew it as truth, and so did he; the fact of it was in his eyes as he met hers.
"They need you, Buck, both of them."
"Do they?" he asked softly. "Maybe Chris does. But . . . " He swallowed, but continued on, saying the words she had hoped she'd never have to explain. "I watched those videos all right, saw what they were doing with their bodies, with their dicks. But I also saw what Vin was doing, what he was saying - not with his mouth, Mary, 'cause that would have been something he had to think about. But it's in his eyes. Blackfox tried to tell me and I didn't want to hear it, but he was right. Vin's . . . he might not want a man, but he wants Chris."
It was hard to argue with what she saw herself. But there was a possible explanation. "It's possible there's a reason, Buck. It doesn't make the emotion any less real at the time, but there have been studies done of victims of long-term hostage situations. Like the Bracka satellite survivors? They were held on the satellite for almost two years with the terrorists. By the time they were released, many of the hostages claimed initially that they had chosen to stay with their captors. Of the ones who did, within five years in the general population of the planet, they had returned to their previous families and lives, as much as they could." She paused, letting him understand what she was saying.
"The way they felt was because they didn't have a choice?" Buck asked, and she knew he was thinking of the things they had all said to Vin, of the things they had all said to Chris.
"Something like that. The stress of the situation coupled with fear of trying to stay alive seems to draw a strange survival emotion that is akin to love, but it's not permanent, not once the situation resolves." She patted his hand. "What he's feeling is probably a combination of too many things, Buck. In some ways, it might make all of this easier."
"Or harder," he murmured. "Trapped with someone you love who don't love you back?"
Trust him to see the one thing Terry had worried about. "It is what it is, Buck. Let's not jump to any conclusions until we know. It could have been the drugs too."
He closed his eyes, his free hand moving to scrub through his hair until he hit the small bandage he still wore, and he hissed a curse. "Yeah, all right. Just give me - give me a little while to work my head into it."
She nodded. "You just let me know."
He drew his hand away then, and she let him, rising when he did. He didn't say much as they made their way back into the hospital, but he did smile and nod to the people he knew, his charm so much a part of him that it couldn't be subdued. That was what Chris and Vin needed right now: Buck's charm and his easy nature.
She stopped at the door to the outside, catching him by the arm. "I need to check on a few things here," she said, "but you let me know when you're ready."
He nodded, and then did that thing that only a man like Buck Wilmington could do: he leaned down and kissed her on the cheek, as if she weren't the one driving him to do this horrible thing. "Thanks, Mary. When this is done, though, we're gonna have that date."
She nodded, not needing any clarification. It was her part of this devil's bargain.