Banner by Galesweetie

(Pittsburgh; December 26th ; POV/Peter Linton)

“Stop.”

I looked up from the bag I was packing but didn’t stop what I was doing. It wasn’t the right man telling me to stop, after all.

“I can be out of here in ten minutes,” I told Red as I finished rolling socks and placing them neatly into my duffle bag. It never took me long to pack. I hadn’t changed my way of packing since I first entered Sandhurst. The shape of the bags had changed over the decades but the relative position of my belongings within the bags had not. I daresay I could pack a bag – or find anything in one I’d packed – under any circumstances, blind-folded, one-handed, heart falling apart, in less than fifteen minutes, tops.

An arm reached over my shoulder and before I could intervene, the bag was grabbed and emptied onto the floor.

“Guess you’ll have to start over after we’re done talking, so you won’t be able to be out of here in ten minutes after all. And why the hell would you want to be out of here in ten minutes? We’re not heading back to Scotland for another four hours.”

Redraven threw himself down on the bed – now that he’d cleared a space. With his arms folded under his head and his legs crossed at the ankles, he looked settled in.

I looked at my neatly rolled clothes, now strewn on the floor, and considered my options. I could say fuck it, and him, and walk out now. Or I could stay and listen to whatever it was he felt had to say. For all that Luke’s mood swings had driven me to the brink of absolute insanity at times – and there were many such times – Redraven had always been absolutely straightforward with me. He was a tough man, but you always knew where you stood with him. I pulled the chair out from the desk, no doubt once a school desk of some O’Keefe boy, and turned it around so I could straddle it. I gestured toward my guest.

“The floor is yours. I’ll listen to whatever you want to say. But I don’t know that I have anything to add, beyond the simple fact that yes, the child is mine. Luke has a problem with that. I should have realized he would. End of story.”

Red lifted an eyebrow. “End of story? Sounds like the middle to me. I mean, ignoring Irish’s completely idiotic reaction to the news that his most hot to trot sister had sex – do you know what happened after you stormed off?”

“I rather assumed I was pilloried by the lot of you and you drew straws on which one of you would go first at defending Angel’s honor.”

“And that’s why you were packing your bags and running? Not like you to run away from a fight, English,” he commented softly.

I clenched my fists. “Do you think I want to fight Danny? Or Luke? I suppose I should be glad it’s you who’s come, as you’re not injured but....”

“But shut the fuck up!” He sat up on his elbows, his calm demeanor dropped. “So you’re too noble to want to fight them when they’re still hurt but I’m going to whup your ass when you’ve got a shot up shoulder? What the fuck is going on in your head, Peter? Do you honestly think I didn’t figure out seven years ago who that kid’s father was? I was pretty sure as soon as Angel was pregnant, and as soon as I saw the baby I knew.”

I felt deflated. “Well why didn’t you tell me?” I whispered. I put my head on my arms, defeated. All those years. Those nights of walking a baby, crooning to her, not knowing she was mine. Why didn’t I ever see the resemblance that was so apparent once one knew to look for it? All I ever saw was an O’Keefe when I held Briana, a miniature Angel, with Danny’s dimples.

Red’s hand rested on my back. “I thought it was for the best. You were committed to the road you were on and I didn’t think it would have made it any easier for you if you knew. Once I figured out, mind you, that you really didn’t know. That threw me. But I questioned Angel pretty hard and I got it out of her that she misled you.”

“She admitted to you that I was the father?” I looked up at him, shocked.

“Not in so many words, no. But I could tell that little Angel had been up to her usual tricks. She’d sniffed out that there was some connection between you and Luke. She’d always suspected something about him, and was always after me, wondering why the two of us were such good friends, why I wouldn’t fuck her if I was straight.”

“But you didn’t,” I said bitterly.

“I didn’t say that,” was the surprise answer. I was even more shocked than before. He sat back down on the bed. “I told you that you should have stayed around for the fireworks. I think Kinney was the only one who hadn’t been with her and he made it clear, in that smart ass way of his, that it wasn’t for lack of trying on her part. He is just one gay guy who does not like women. Luke was going ballistic, especially when Lanier, who didn’t even like her, confessed to being drunk one night and waking up in bed with her, because that would have been when he and Danny were either still together or had just broken up. But then Danny started yelling at Luke to get his head out of his ass, saying that he used to have to lock his bedroom door to keep her out of his bed some nights.”

“Surely he was kidding,” I protested, even though I knew he wasn’t. I’d been there times when Angel’s attentions toward her younger brother had crossed the line. When he was very young, he was awkward about discouraging her, and let her go further than he liked. That is what led to much of the rumors later on, as they used to dance together in nightclubs that catered to a very promiscuous crowd. Edward saw them there frequently, and encouraged Angel’s excesses. At nineteen, Danny wasn’t as good at defusing situations as he later became, and often got caught up in more than he liked. It was one of the reasons I stayed in the U.S. to watch over them – Danny needed me, and without an older guiding hand I’d feared that he would go the same route to destruction as Angel had.

Red spoke again, “He told Luke the truth, as did the rest of us. I had to admit to him that I never told him about my belief that Angel had seduced you also, and that her daughter was yours, and he and I still have to have it out over that. He’s no doubt angry at all of us now, not just you, English, so there’s no sense you running off when he’s the one who thinks he’s been wronged. If you want to be mad that I never told you that the kid was yours, I guess you have that right, but first tell me, how could you not know? Did she drug you or something? And how did she ever talk you into it, because I would have said that next to Kinney, you’d be even less likely to fall into bed with a woman.”

“Can I hear some of this too?” Danny knocked on the doorframe – in true O’Keefe fashion, he was knocking after he’d already poked his head in. I rolled my eyes.

“Are you okay? I’m sorry, I didn’t know that...I assumed...” he looked at Red helplessly.

“Don’t look at me, you’re capable of putting your foot in your mouth, you get it out by yourself,” he told him, making himself comfortable on the bed. Danny saw the spilled bag. He looked at me again.

“You were leaving without Luke? You can’t do that! You’ve waited so long to be together! This, this shouldn’t change what you mean to each other!”

“Tell your brother that,” I said bitterly.

“Someone is,” Danny said, bending over to pick up my shirts. He staggered a bit, his bad knee throwing him off and I automatically reached out to steady him.

“George...” I winced and he flushed. “Peter...sorry. It’s hard. You were George to me for a long time.”

“Too long,” Red muttered. I smiled in rueful acknowledgment. Danny looked back and forth between the two of us, a question forming in his eyes.

Red sighed. “No, Pup, I’m not gay, I’ve never fucked either of them, and yes, I fucked your sister, but she wanted it, I didn’t seduce her and no, I didn’t get her pregnant because unlike the doctor here, I know enough to wear protection. Which reminds me –why the hell didn’t you?”

I blushed. At my age and with the life I’ve lived, and I still blush. Danny, kind boy that he is at heart, tried not to laugh but he made the mistake of looking at Redraven’s disbelieving face and that was the end of him. He fell onto the bed, dissolved in laughter. I retreated into stony silence.
Every time I started to say something, one of them would look at me and then start laughing again.

“This really is not a laughing matter,” I told them. “You’re being quite juvenile.” That didn’t help, they nodded and laughed all the harder. “I hope you choke on your own spit.”

“Please...don’t go,” Danny begged, as I started restuffing my duffle. He took a few deep breaths to compose himself. “I won’t laugh...neither will Red, anymore. It was the blush that did it, Peter. It is just so damn....”

“Cute, it’s cute.” Red snickered. I glared at him as I mentally reviewed the different ways I knew to inflict pain without leaving any marks. He knew what I was doing, as he suddenly sat up and drew his legs away from the side of the bed.

“I’ll behave,” he promised. “And you can’t hurt the Pup, he’s still recovering.”

“Peter would never hurt me – I belong to him,” Danny repeated softly the words I said to him in Germany...the words he said to me when we first met, when he was a mere child. I looked down at the clothes in my hands. “Can we just talk for a little bit? Please? I know you have to leave today. I know you’ve been away from your work and your own lives long enough due to having to rescue me, but I would like to get a few things said before more time passes. I don’t want to leave it up in the air. Just...just in case.”

The boy had been replaced by the man. I met his serious gaze and nodded.

Red asked, “Do you need, or want, me here?”

I preferred it, actually. For all his rough ways, Red was often an objective, cool head of reason when one was needed, and I trusted him to be fair to me, even among this family, but I left the decision to Danny.

Danny stretched his leg out and winced. “I don’t mind, but can I have some space on the bed? Do you have to hog the headboard?” he groused.

Waiting for the two of them to settle themselves again, I continued repacking. Either way I would need to leave today so I’d need a packed bag, I reasoned. Besides, keeping my hands busy helped calm me. As I refolded my clothes, I looked down at the handsome young man who meant so much to me – almost as much as his brother – and I asked the big question. “What do you want me to do with respect to Briana, Danny?”

“Is that it? It’s my call?” he asked, his face a blank, his voice deep. An expressionless O’Keefe face is always a tip-off that they are harboring strong emotions, so strong they feel they have to hide them. Red was staring curiously at Danny and I was sure he was drawing the same conclusion. Danny was deeply worried over what would be the right thing to do, I guessed, and now he was troubled that I didn’t care. How I wished I could tell him how very much I did care, but this decision was made for me a long time ago. Too late now to turn back time and wish to play a father’s role in my daughter’s life.

I was careful in how I worded my response. “Danny, I don’t know if you understand completely. I found out that Briana was possibly my child the same day I, to all intents and purposes, ‘died.’ When I left my hastily prepared will, complete with the codicils about the trusts, with your brother John, I had no expectation of surviving that night. Before that day, I thought I was leaving my estate to you. When I regained consciousness, it was weeks later, and I could barely adjust to the fact that I was alive. Once I did, the decision was already made to let George Main die – and Peter Linton with him. My estate was settled. To go back to the U.S. would have meant murder charges at the very least. My new life in anonymity was presented as a fait accompli. Did I mention to your brother then, oh, by the way, there’s a little detail you’ve not thought of? No, because it didn’t seem to me that there was any realistic choice. Briana O’Keefe’s father was a soldier buddy of Luke’s who had died. Like one of that psychic of Liberty Avenue’s prophecies, the story was coming to fruition in its own strange way.”

“But you aren’t dead and Briana does have a father.” Danny looked like he was determined to swallow a bad medicine.

“You’re Briana’s father, Danny. You’ve filled that role since her birth, been there when she needed someone...” I paused, unable to say more.

“And you were too. I haven’t forgotten how much you helped us. God damn Angel. She cheated you and Briana, and it could have been so different.” Danny’s deep voice was rough. I didn’t know what to say because Angel’s actions were bitter to me also. I wished I had known that the child I’d held through colicky nights and treated for frighteningly high fevers, that tiny newborn who’d seemed to cheat death so many times, was my own little girl. I paced over to the window, caught up in those memories.

It had been Danny, of course, who’d borne the brunt of the parenting. Edward had been annoyed by how much time the child took from both O’Keefes’ schedules. I think he’d expected the O’Keefe parents, Rose and Patrick, to take over once the baby arrived. He’d been shocked to find the infant installed in that small Village apartment, diapers and bottles strewn all over. For once, Danny had accepted largesse, allowing Edward to pay for a diaper service and maid as a “present” for the baby. He’d confessed to me that he was too tired to fight about it, with the baby waking every two hours to be fed. If Edward could nurse, he’d confided to me once with wry humor, he’d have seriously considered letting the man have his wicked way with him just to have a good night’s sleep.

It was a good thing Edward never heard Danny say that; he probably would have hired a wet nurse. But, in a burst of genuine concern, he had ordered me to “do something about the boy” when he saw Danny looking wraith-thin and exhausted a few months after Briana’s birth. That was when I was able to hire the nanny for them and also arranged for the other services. And, on those few unforgettable occasions, filled in caring for the fretful baby. Shouldn’t I have known, through some sixth sense, that she was a Linton, the granddaughter of an Earl, directly related to three European monarchies? I felt a tremendous sense of failure...and loss.

“I don’t think it’s right that you missed out on her life for this long, Peter. I can’t agree that you should be asked to give up on knowing her for the rest of it, out of self sacrifice or...” Danny had his stubborn face on as he made his point.

“Whoa, here’s the thing,” Red interrupted. “For all that Luke did kind of drop Linton here in the thick of things when he brought him back from the dead, no chance to say maybe, please, or what the fuck, the fact remains that we’re in a hell of a dangerous business. Not a great one for having a little girl tagging along. Even if she is a she-devil like that little one of yours no doubt is.”

“Red is right. It’s best to leave things the way they are, Danny. I appreciate your concern but it’s Briana’s best interests that are of paramount importance, and after her, yours.” I held up my hand as he looked like protesting. “That’s all I want to say on it now. Maybe later, when...emotions have settled down...we can readdress the issue.”

I chased them both out of the room then, insisting that I wanted to be alone to pack. The fact that Luke hadn’t bothered to come seek me out was less pronounced if I didn’t have others with me who did. Pushing thoughts of Luke out of my mind, along with the lingering thoughts of my daughter, I returned to my usual efficiency in packing. It was the oddest thing, but as I was rolling up socks to tuck into the empty corners of the bag, I could have sworn I heard music.1

 

*********************************************
 

(POV/Brian Kinney)

“So you’re the one who got the short straw?” Luke O’Keefe looked like he was in one hell of a mean mood as he asked the question. I wasn’t in that great of a one myself, actually, having chased him down over a two mile hike through a snowy covered path in the woods in an area past the town cemetery where no one with any brains went. But, this fell into the category of, the things I do for love – of Danny, not Luke.

“Did it occur to you when you took off like a bat out of hell that you were leaving behind your little brother who has a gimpy leg at the moment and can’t follow you? I won’t even get into the issue of your being dead and that you’re supposed to stay out of sight. Danny wanted to come after you but couldn’t, so you got me. Be glad it’s not the Frenchman.”

“Well, since I wasn’t really in the mood to talk to anyone, that news doesn’t really cheer me up. And for that same reason, I’d hardly worry about picking a path that Danny could follow me on, now would I?”

“You should have, if you remember anything at all about your brother,” I said, standing up to him despite his angry appearance that gave every indication of wanting to beat someone up – and I could be that lucky someone, I thought morosely.

“Listen, I get that you’re apparently the man in Danny’s life and likely to stay that way, but if you think you know him better than I do, you’re delusional. I know Danny better than anyone,” Luke said, his glare enough to melt metal.

“Sure...and that’s why you were dumb enough to think he wouldn’t understand about the things that happened to you in the war. Guess the Danny you know is some kind of fragile flower, incapable of handing tough times?”

Luke started to answer me, but then stopped. He sat down on a tree stump, a thoughtful expression on his face. When he spoke, it was so quiet I barely heard him. “Danny is one of the toughest men I know, and I also know that he would always forgive...but I couldn’t. If it were all a lie, a set-up, then I could consider....”

I interrupted him. “There’s no need to consider it further, even if you are willing to be a big enough man to do it – which is a really selfish way to look at the situation, if you ask me. Danny is convinced of what and who you are. He’ll never give up on loving you. You’d think you’d have learned that from this last escapade. Everything that he went through, that we all went through, was worth it to him since it brought you back to his life. But...that’s not the point now. There’s someone else who’s shown you incredible loyalty for years and you’ve kicked him in the teeth with your attitude. What the fuck are you going to do about Linton?”

“What do you mean?” Luke was staring at his hands, which he held loosely clasped between his legs. I’d never seen anyone look so lost, for all that he was pretending he was fine.

“Is it worth losing someone who means as much to you as he clearly does, all for a supposed slight to a sister who was a ....”

“Don’t say it,” he warned, his voice quiet now, and maybe for that reason, all the more intimidating.

Still, being me, I kept my cool and while I didn’t call Angel O’Keefe a whore, I don’t think he was in any doubt as to my opinion. “What is it that has you so upset, anyway? It can’t be merely the idea that Linton slept with Angel. I think it’s got to be pretty clear to you that he never intended it and certainly regretted it. This archaic idea that he’s dishonored you or whatever nonsense is bouncing around that head of yours is really stupid, after all this time.”

“I trusted him,” Luke said simply, his green eyes piercing me as he looked up finally. Damn, he looked so much like Danny. A Danny who’d been in hell for twenty years and was now trying to find his way in an unfamiliar world. I felt sorry for Luke, which surprised me, because up until now, my main feeling for him had been resentment.

“And you don’t think he was worthy of that trust? This is the man who allowed himself to be treated like some kind of cross between a butler and a hired gun, with some Dr. Frankenstein mixed in, by that psycho Edward Simon. As I get it, the main thing holding him there was protecting Danny. For you.”

“That’s not all...Simon held something over his head, threatened to let their family know,” Luke argued, although I could see that I was getting through to him.

“Sure, he stayed there out of some concern about what his family would think of him, living incognito for over a decade, just to keep some secret from his parents? Does he even have parents? I thought the only one left after Simon died was some cousin.” I leaned back against a tree. Seemed like we might be here awhile. Damn O’Keefe stubbornness; even after they knew they were wrong they kept arguing.

“His mother died when he was a baby,” Luke admitted. “His father? He died about ten years ago, in an accident. His brother died about eight years ago, but Peter and he were never close.” He was frowning as he thought about the implications of Linton’s family being gone.

I decided to hammer the point home. “So, he stayed with the family nutcase because of the shame some secret of his might have caused? Hard to imagine what Linton could have done to come anywhere near what Simon did...especially after he tried kidnapping and raping Danny the first time.”

Luke got to his feet. “You’re right. He did it for me. I was a damn fool to be angry at Peter. It was just...you have no idea how hard I tried getting Angel to tell me who fathered her baby. To find out now that it was my...my....” He didn’t finish the sentence. Not comfortable even now saying that Linton was his lover, the love of his life. At least not out loud. Some closets are so deep, it takes years to get out of them. I left that alone and returned to the topic of the wayward O’Keefe.

“Well, how could she tell you?” I pointed out. “Knowing Angel, seducing Linton was something she wanted from the time he first ignored her...as a woman. I have the impression he was always there for her as a surrogate big brother. Some women can’t resist the challenge of a gay man. Or maybe she sensed that he was involved with you, and she couldn’t resist testing her theory. Either way, she probably never thought past the act itself. She certainly wasn’t one to think things through. Once she found out she was pregnant, she probably panicked, afraid of what would happen if you or Simon found out it was Linton’s.”

Luke looked at me sharply. “I would never have hurt Angel!”

“I’m sure, but how about Linton? Maybe she feared what you’d do to him.” Luke was a big man, and while Linton could fight like the devil, would he have fought back to defend himself? He’d looked destroyed by Luke’s reaction to the news. “Try to think of how he feels now. He’s got a daughter he never knew about, he spent twenty years of his life in love with an idiot....”

“Gee, thanks,” Luke said, but he looked pretty sheepish. “So, what do I do now?”

“Well, you could stay angry, and I’m thinking the man will be out of your life pretty quickly. He might be even if you don’t stay angry.”

“Fuck, I don’t want to lose Peter...I just...I ...damn, I fucked up. I need to get back.”

I didn’t even try to keep up with those legs on the return trip. Instead, I stood for a few minutes, looking toward the cemetery. I hoped that Angel O’Keefe was resting in peace now that the last of the mischief she was capable of causing was over. Danny often worried that he hadn’t been a good enough brother to her, and I knew that he felt bad that Briana would never know her mother. As far as I was concerned, they were both better off without her in their lives.

I turned to follow Luke home, getting there just in time to say good-bye to the ghost soldiers.

*********************************************
 

(Two and a half weeks after Christmas; Gaza Strip; POV/Luke)

When we’d arrived in Gaza, it was to find organized chaos. The Alliance had a squad of its best men and women there, but with Williams gone, there was a gap in the chain of command. In addition to our usual tasks in this type of situation, the three of us acted behind the scenes to coordinate the Alliance’s efforts, foster diplomatic efforts and relief efforts, and most importantly, do what we could to limit the violence with some well-placed counteractions. We broke rules, but that was our purpose, to get things done that others couldn’t, due to bureaucratic red tape. With the U.S, having a lame duck president, and no one else being able to get the attention of the warring factions, there was a crying need for someone to act to stop the violence in a situation like this where innocents were targets.

I was sitting in the small building we’d established as our headquarters. Things were beginning to calm down, but were far from under control. I was exhausted. We all were. We’d been going strong for two weeks, working eighteen hour shifts, and none of us had come into this in top shape, physically or emotionally. Peter had stayed cool toward me, refusing to discuss anything personal, insisting that the work came first. Which it did, of course, but I would have given anything to be able to hold him during the brief hours that we slept. It wasn’t that Peter was behaving like he was angry, or even hurt. I would have understood either reaction and had some idea of what to do about it. But it was like he was a total stranger. Polite, efficient, a major asset in every way. But, our connection, which had been there from the first hour we met, was gone. Gone, or blocked. I prayed that it was the second, because if it were gone for good, I thought I might go insane.

“Irish! Have there been any new messages from Hunter?” Red came clattering into the room. He was armed to the teeth – must have been out doing the grocery shopping, I thought with grim humor. And in fact, he dropped a bag on the desk next to my computer.

“Here, eat something. You look like death. Where’s English? Isn’t this his time to sleep?”

“He was, but then one of the local agents came by, something about some kids being hurt in one of the blasts yesterday and not having seen a doctor yet. He went over to see them at that little school near Fyadin Street.” Red sat down on one of the bunks and started taking off his boots.

I clicked through the encrypted screens to check for orders from Hunter or Summers. “Hallelujah!” I whispered.

“What?” He was lying back, still fully dressed.

“We’re going home. New men arriving today to take over. Talks are going better so they expect things to end soon. You and I are approved to return and....” I stopped talking. Red’s sharp voice called my attention back to him.

“And English? He’s on home leave too, right? He’s still sore in that shoulder and....”

“And he’s being sent to London,” I answered flatly.

“That’s fucking nuts,” Red exclaimed. “He needs a break more than any of us, why the...I’ll contact Thyme myself and....”

“It was his request. They just approved it,” I cut into Red’s rant. I knew he meant well, he’d been walking a tightrope between the two of us, trying to get Peter to open up to him without making me feel like any more of a jerk than I already did. But right now, there wasn’t much that could make me feel any better. Peter was leaving us, leaving me.

I felt Red’s hand on my shoulder. “Take it easy. We’ll talk to him. This misunderstanding between you two has dragged on for too long. This transfer request is just his way of bringing it into the open and....”

“And now that it’s in the open? He’s not going to forgive me, Red. This is his way of coping. He’ll go to London and from now on when we see him, he’ll be a stranger. I’ve seen him do this before. He did it after that trouble before, when he went to Simon. He’ll turn off his feelings like he’s a machine. It took years to break through to him again.”

“Well, seems clear to me that the answer is not to let him,” Red said.

I looked up into the dark eyes of my friend. “I don’t know how to stop him,” I whispered.

Just then, a shudder went through the building. Another bomb somewhere. It got so you just ignored them. Except when one of us was still out there.

Red beat me to the window. The crowds were screaming, running west. I felt a sick feeling come over me.

“The school,” Red said it before I even allowed myself to think it. “Come on.” He quickly moved back to the bunk and pulled his boots on. We grabbed Peter’s spare medical bag and ran, following the crowds who were crying and swearing, depending on their sex.

“It’s definitely the school,” Red yelled to me. He’d drawn even with one of the shouting men and asked him in Arabic what had happened. A bomb. Most of the two story school had collapsed, trapping the children inside.

I ran faster, all fatigue gone. We would have helped under any circumstances, but our help would have stayed in the background, coordinating rescue and relief efforts from a safe, anonymous distance. Neither Red nor I considered that type of reaction now, not when one of our own might be in the bombed building. Even as I ran, panicked, I was telling myself that Peter was sure to be safe. He had more lives than a cat.

But even cats run out of luck sometimes. I forced myself to focus on coping with this situation. I was a soldier, but at the moment, I needed to call upon my other skills, especially engineering. We would need to find a way into the building, to shore it up somehow.

Turning the corner, I saw the smoke plumes rising from the badly damaged building, parts of it now reduced to rubble, and I felt as though there were a vise gripping my heart. I pulled out my radio, and switched it to the frequency reserved for our private communications. If Peter were trapped in there, he’d have set it to that frequency in order to reach us; he’d know we’d be out here, looking for him..

“Silver, come in, Major Silver, MacNeill here.” Even half out of my head, I remembered to use our code names. It occurred to me that I’d failed to put on my disguise. Fuck it then. The ash and smoke were so thick, it was unlikely anyone would get a picture of me, though there were plenty of journalists around, already getting their stories – the latest tragedy in this tortured strip of land. I gripped my radio harder and practically yelled into it. “Peter, come in, Peter!” Red looked over at me but didn’t say a word. He grabbed another local.

“Are the kids still in there?” His expression didn’t give the man the option of not answering the sharply spoken question. Red used English this time. Most Palestinians seemed to speak English anyway so there was no need to risk alienating the crowd by choosing the wrong language with the wrong person. I wasn’t sure which faction owned the school; I didn’t spend a lot of time out on the streets.

“There were children inside, not all of them. School was not in session, but there was an emergency medical center set up. A British doctor was helping to treat some of the children injured in yesterday’s bombings.”

That vise got tighter. “Did they get the children out?” The man shrugged his shoulders; he had no idea.

“I heard they got out,” another man chimed in. “The doctor and one of the women helping him led the children out the back.”

I heaved a sigh of relief. Red clapped me on the back, a grin on his face.

“Let’s go look for him...probably around the back checking on the kids still,” he said. Nodding to Red, I thanked the man for the information and then followed Red through the crowd. Between the two of us, we made it through the mob fairly easily. If anything, the commotion on the other side of the bombed school was worse than it had been in the front, where the bomb did the most damage. Everywhere I looked, there were screaming children, crying women and shouting men. To the side, we saw a woman I recognized as one of the relief workers associated with the Alliance who frequently assisted Peter. I jogged over to her, Red on my heels.

She looked up as we reached her. She’d been bandaging a small boy. “Thank God, I was hoping you’d come,” she said to Red. “There are still some left inside. Major Silver went back in and I haven’t....”

She didn’t get the chance to finish her sentence, cut off by the sound of a second explosion. Red and I both threw ourselves over children who were lying on the ground, waiting for help. It was all we could do to shield them from the flying rocks and debris coming from the building.

“Oh dear God,” the woman said, her frightened face turned toward the building. I stared at it. The place was almost leveled. The roof was on the ground in some spots, while in other places, interior walls teetered lopsidedly against each other.

I started forward. Red grabbed my arm.

“There isn’t anything we can do inside, Luke. No one could be alive in there.”

“Peter could,” I told him, shaking his arm off. I took the medical bag from him.

“What are you doing?” His eyes told me the question was merely seeking confirmation of what he already knew.

I was going in. I didn’t have to turn around to know that Red was right with me.

*********************************************
 

(POV/Linton)

I scrambled through the broken building, trying to get to Anisa. She and her daughter had been right next to me just moments before, but then she yelled that she’d forgotten something and headed back in the wrong direction, to the area that was the worst hit. Sections of the building were still losing their battle with gravity and collapsing around me. There was only a few feet of clearance in this section and the dust in the air was heavy enough to make seeing and breathing next to impossible. I was on my hands and knees, moving as quickly as I could; there was no way of knowing if yet another blast would occur.

My right hand touched flesh, and I had a brief moment of hope before the old feeling of despair washed over me. A child...a dead child, still clutching the small doll one of the volunteer nurses had given her to calm her while her injuries from yesterday were treated. She wasn’t Anisa’s daughter, but someone else’s. I pulled the small body free of the debris that had trapped her but knew I would have to leave her there. As long as there was still a chance of finding living people, I couldn’t do my part for the dead.

By the time I reached as far as I could go, I’d encountered three more bodies. I’ve been accused of being a cold man, and in many ways that charge was warranted, but as I made my slow way through that bombed school, I found myself weeping for the loss of young lives. All the pain that I’d brought with me on this mission seemed to coalesce and I felt like laying my head down and giving up. Giving in. My love seemed lost to me, my life a burden, and at that moment, I couldn’t bring myself to crawl another foot.

But then I forced myself to think of Luke, my tall, beautiful Luke, the look in his pleading green eyes as they’d followed me everywhere over the past weeks. Why had I wasted the last days we’d had together holding a grudge over a reaction that he couldn’t help and quickly regretted? I decided to try to make it a few more feet and then turn back.

That was when I heard the cry of a small child, a very small child. I lifted my head and tried to determine where the sound was coming from. North, toward the stairwell. Slowly, I picked my way carefully through the bit of ceiling and plaster that blocked the way. It was only about seven or eight feet away, but one of the support beams had broken and getting through to the sound required squeezing my body through the small area left clear, the second support beam leaning precariously overhead. I wasn’t sure how long it would hold so it was imperative that I get to the child and then back out, hopefully able to find a way to the outside.

I made it – barely – and found I had enough room on the other side of the opening to get up on my knees. Still following the sound, praying that the small voice didn’t become silent, I made my way to the stairs, and there, half covered by a beam from the ceiling, was Anisa. I feared the worst but still checked for a pulse. Beneath her, protected from the falling beam by her body, was her daughter. Little Sarah was crying, frightened by the weight that pressed down on her and a mother who didn’t immediately croon to her to quiet her fears.

Gently, I eased the small child, no more than two years old, from her dead mother’s arms and cradled her against my chest. She stopped crying almost at once, her large dark eyes looking at me curiously, one small hand stroking my beard. Her gesture reminded me of my own daughter, touching my face and telling me to be safe...and to save my life. I looked at the path I’d need to take to make it back to the outside and sighed. I stroked the hair of my small charge as I tucked her inside my outer shirt to hopefully protect her from the worst of the dust.

“Well, little one, saving the two of us may prove difficult, but I find that I must try, for you and for my little girl, if for no other reason.”

I kept up a soft conversation with my companion as I crawled back the way I’d come. I hated leaving Anisa but there was nothing more I could do for her than what I was doing – caring for her daughter, trying to get her to safety. I wondered what had been so important to her mind that it was worth going back into this crumpling building? Whatever it was, it was now lost to her.

Reaching the area that I’d squeezed through before, I decided to try going through the small opening feet first, since I needed one arm to hold the child. I was thankful that she wasn’t squirming and worried that she might be injured. But, pain would cause crying, I reasoned, and it would do no good to pause now to check for injuries when I had nothing with which to treat her.

We made it partway through the small opening and I was about to congratulate myself on the achievement, when there was the sound of a second blast. I curled my body around Sarah, protecting her as best I could. I heard rather than saw the support beam falling toward us, but there wasn’t anything I could do to avoid it, other than twisting my torso as far away as possible. I prayed that it wouldn’t land on my back, causing my weight to fall on the child in my arms.

That prayer was granted but I found myself not much better off, the beam landing in such a way that my lower body was pinned in place. The beam was still partially supported by a crossbeam that had fallen with it, but it’s position was precarious at best. Another few inches and my legs would have been crushed. Wreckage was all around us but Sarah seemed fine so I tried to take hope from that. From the waist down, my body was covered by the beam and plaster from the ceiling. My upper body was twisted, curled around the little one in my arms.

This would be a good time for an idea, Linton, I told myself. By now, Luke and Red had to have heard the blasts and if I knew my green-eyed boy, he would be trying to get to me, with Red right behind. So...how to let him know where to look? My radio was in my pocket but I wasn’t sure I could get it out. Besides, would I want Luke and Red to enter this deathtrap?

Yes, for Anisa’s baby’s sake if not my own, I decided. I tried putting her down so that I could test the weight of the beam, see if I could move it enough to get free, but my efforts merely settled the beam more securely across my legs and pelvis. I heard my radio beeping and tried to get it free with no success. I looked down at Sarah, happily chewing her fist.

“Well, love, it looks like this may be it for our trip together. We will have to wait for help, but it will come and I’ll be able to hand you to some very handsome men.” I continued to whisper nonsense to her as she appeared to like the sound of my voice. It occurred to me that there wasn’t a doubt in my mind that Luke would try to find me...and that he wouldn’t give up until he did. For all my doubts about him over the past couple of weeks, and despite the way I’d treated him since leaving Pittsburgh, I didn’t have a doubt in my mind that he would come. I closed my eyes against the ruin around me, and tried to stay as still as possible so as not to cause the beam on me to shift.

I couldn’t tell how long I remained like that, still crooning to Sarah to keep her calm, but eventually, I heard noises coming from the area that was the back of the school, a hundred or so feet away.

“Peter! Peter, can you hear me?”

“Over here...Luke!”

Soon, I heard the sound of Luke and Red mere yards away.

“We can’t see you, Peter, where exactly are you...oh fuck,” came Luke’s voice, his brogue thicker than normal. I found myself chuckling, a near hysterical reaction, I’m afraid.

“It’s a bit of a problem, isn’t it?” I commented, my voice hoarse from all the dust in my throat. My eyes were burning from it, and I spared a thought to hoping that they hadn’t used asbestos in this building, as Sarah and I were covered with a thick dusting of the gray dust.

“Gotta love his way of understating a situation.” That was Red’s voice. I knew Luke wouldn’t be entering a bombed, collapsing building without his best friend covering his back. I felt this ridiculous urge to cry. I coughed instead and said, “Luke, Red...I have a child with me. I’m pinned but if one of you can get close enough, I can hand her to you and you can get her to safety. Her mother is gone, her name is....”

“I think you can save the introductions until after we’re out of here, English. We’re getting both of you out, don’t go getting all noble on us. Irish here is trying to remember whatever it was he learned in those soccer playing college days of his about support beams and stress loads. Me, I just know that you’re not supposed to have a large metal beam on your legs...should have ducked better.”

“Quite,” I answered, my breathing getting a bit difficult. “Red, Luke...you need to get the baby from me. I don’t think....”

The beam was shifting and I thought it was the end. I twisted, trying to get at least one last glimpse of Luke. Instead, what I saw was a second large beam being levered under the one that held me captive. Dear God, I thought, he’s lifting the roof back up! And indeed, that is what it looked like. Luke had grabbed a fallen beam and was using it to lift the beam from my legs. His face was contorted with his effort, and his muscles were strained to their maximum, but he managed to get the bar lifted high enough to move the beam.

Seeing this chance, I tried to move my legs but a shooting pain made me cry out.

“Get them, Red,” Luke gasped. “His leg is broken. Can you reach?”

“I will,” was the grim answer. “Can you keep a hold of the baby, English?”

“I will,” I echoed his words, though in fact, I almost passed out from the pain as he pulled me from under the beam. As soon as I was clear of it, Luke let it down, slowly so as not to cause any more vibrations that could send something else down on us.

“Luke, Red....” I found my throat too tight to say what I wanted to these two men.

“Be quiet, Peter,” Luke ordered quietly. “Let’s get you out of here and then we can talk.”

Nodding, I let myself sag back against Red’s broad chest. Later I would stop and marvel at the amount of weight Luke had managed to lift. For the moment, it was enough to know that we three were still a team, and that I had these two men to count on for my very life.

*********************************************

When I came to, I was in a soft bed – much better than the accommodations we’d enjoyed for the rest of our stay in Gaza. I felt the weight of a cast on my leg, and, looking down, was dismayed to see that it came all the way up my leg. I groaned as I tried to move it.

“I think you’re supposed to stay still when you fracture a leg in three places,” Luke said. Turning my head, I saw his long form overflowing a chair next to my bed. He was pale and dirty looking, and his beard looked to be a good three days old, and I don’t think I’d ever seen a more beautiful sight in my life.

“Sarah?” I asked. I wanted to reach out, touch him, but I felt unwontedly shy. The child seemed a safe topic.

“Red has her back at our rooms. Seems she has no one, and if we leave her with the authorities, well, it wouldn’t be that good for her.”

“What are we going to do then?” I picked at the sheets covering me, until a large hand covered mine.

“John is on his way to London. He’ll meet us there and if you approve, there will be paperwork confirming his adoption of little Sarah Leah.”

“But...” I paused, and lifted my eyes to his. “Jewish?”

“Half. The other half, well, Palestinian from what we can tell. Safest place for the little one is far from here.”

I thought about that for a minute. John O’Keefe and his wife had been trying to adopt but they lost their chance at a child when his kidnapping last December prevented him from making an important interview with the adoption service. There seemed to be a cosmic justice to his being able to provide a home to this little one.

“The next question,” that soft Irish voice continued, “is where you’re going. Your transfer request was approved, but hurt like you are, the doctors feel that you need to take it very easy. Those were some bad breaks, Peter.”

I looked at his face. He was trying to stay professional, calm, but there was that same pleading look in his green eyes. “Maybe that transfer isn’t the best idea,” I said, turning my hand around so that I could clasp his. “But I suppose I could purchase a house in England to stay at while I convalesce.”

Luke laid his head down on my chest. “Peter...come home....please. I’m sorry, and if you’re still mad, you can have your own room, anything, but come to Scotland with Red and me so I can at least watch over you and....”

“Yes.” I broke in on his speech; I didn’t want my own room but there would be time enough to tell him that. Thanks to him and Red, there would be time to fix all that had gone wrong. All I knew was that I couldn’t go on without this man in my life.

“Thank you,” he said, lifting my hand and kissing it.

“We need to talk though,” I warned him. “I need to explain and....”

“We can talk all you want, as long as you’re coming with us. When I heard that blast, Peter, all I could think of was how we’ve wasted so much time.”

“I had the same thought,” I confessed.

“I don’t want to go through this anymore,” he suddenly announced.

“The fighting? I don’t either but our temperaments are so different....” He stopped my philosophical musings. And surprised the hell out of me.

“No, I mean I don’t want to do this anymore. It’s been too long, Peter. I want us all to get out, leave the Alliance. For good.”


TBC in Rough Weather-Part Two