by AR Moler
made the acceptance of that idea an easier event. P had the official stance that all adult consensual relationships were acceptable, potentially even beneficial, regardless of gender. Psi in general were often loners, finding single life easier to cope with than trying to explain their unique problems.
***
Squinting in the almost darkness at the dial of his watch, Peter saw that it was close to dawn. He could hear some people up and about, moving through the ramshackle building. Danny's arm was still loosely draped around him as the man slept. Much as Peter would like to continue to lie against the solid presence of his colleague, it would probably be better for both of them if he went ahead and got up. Peter eased gently away and unzipped his sleeping bag. Putting on his boots and jacket, he thought about the kiss. He hadn't really intended to do that. It had been half relief, half reflex. Earlier in the day, Peter had picked up on Danny's very less than straight heterosexual thought when Peter was working on his concussion and accompanying muscle tension. Peter had been curious and amused. He didn't really know Danny well enough to have the "which way do you swing"
discussion. After the stressful evening of having a number of badly injured soldiers flowing under his hands as he used a mix of traditional first aid along with his psychic talent, Peter had felt desperate to touch someone who was at least pretty close to healthy. It seemed Danny had been a good choice. Maybe when they got out of this hell-hole the two of them should have a beer and talk.
***
"I need a medic!" Claydon screamed.
Danny looked up to see the man carrying Nightengale's limp body slung over his shoulder as he almost staggered into the field command building.
Danny launched to his feet at the same time as Peter raced toward the pair. Together they eased Nightengale down onto a makeshift exam table, laying him on his side. Blood was seeping from a thoroughly soaked field dressing applied to one side of his lower abdomen. The one on his back above the hip was equally soaked.
"Get me plasma, saline and oxygen!" Peter shouted across the room to another corpsman. "Fuck, the wound goes all the way through. What the hell did this?"
Danny grabbed Claydon by the shoulders. "Take a deep breath. Tell me what happened."
"Jonas went into one of the buildings in our assigned area and I hung around outside for a moment 'cause I thought I might have seen some movement. I heard this crashing noise and went in looking for him. A whole bunch of the roof had collapsed. Jesus God, when I started trying to pull stuff off him… I guess he'd fallen on this piece of rebar. It went all the way through him and it was still part of the floor. God. Oh God, I had to pull him up off it, 'cause we thought the building was going to collapse. I spent a couple minutes trying to stop the bleeding, then I figured I needed to get him back here. Fucking hell, is he going to make it?"
Danny glanced back at Peter who was bent over Nightengale, obviously doing his best to stabilize his patient.
"I don't know," said Danny honestly. "Go grab something to drink and try to calm down."
***
The energy gushed from Peter's hands with the flow of a fire hose. Nightengale's vitals were crashing hard.
Constrict the damaged blood vessels. Grab a hemostat, clamp the nicked artery. Boost the blood pressure.
Peter could feel the sweat trickling down his spine.
This was the event predicted by Reed. Here they were, in the field with limited surgical resources, and one of their people was critically injured. It would take some serious surgery to put Nightengale back together. In the meantime, Peter knew he was the next best thing to a walking miracle.
"Dude, what'd you do? His blood pressure's leveling out a little," said the corpsman standing on the opposite side of Jonas's body.
"It's classified. Hand me another hemostat. Get a second line going. How soon can we get an evac?"
"I think the CO's already on the horn trying to get a chopper headed in our direction."
"Good." Peter steadied his patient's heart rate, and managed to repair one of the minor vessels. Anything to slow the blood loss. Peter jerked as a hand touched his shoulder. He glanced sideways at Danny.
"Rayden just radioed me. He and Tabano found Espeleta," said Danny.
"Uh, is he alive?"
"Yeah, banged up, dehydrated, kind of worse for wear, but capable of walking and talking."
"Good. I'm not sure I could handle another patient right now," admitted Peter.
"You take care of Jonas. Go with him when the chopper arrives. I'll wait on the rest of our people, and get us out as soon as we can. Any idea where they're likely to airlift Nightengale to?" The question was directed at the corpsman as much as Peter.
"Urosevac has the closest actual hospital. It might take thirty to forty minutes to get him there," replied the corpsman.
"Anything I can do for you?" Danny asked Peter.
"Yeah, actually there is. Go look in my field kit for a tube labeled glucose tablets. Can you feed me a few? I don't want to take my hands off Jonas."
"Okay." Danny found the tablets and fed several to Peter, and held a water bottle for him to drink. "You're sweating big time. Is that okay?"
"Yeah, it's kind of a side effect. If the helicopter takes longer than fifteen more minutes, I'm gonna need some more of those," said Peter.
"Energy takes energy."
"Yeah, there's only so many laws of physics I'm allowed to bend," said Peter grimly. He let himself have a little mental debate. How much additional help could he get from Danny? "If you stand behind me and make sure I don't fall on my ass, I can focus close to a hundred percent on trying to slow the bleeding." He noticed the corpsman gave him a really strange look. Peter didn't care.
"I can do that." Danny stepped up behind him and placed both hands on his shoulders.
Feeling the solid presence at his back was incredibly helpful. Peter unleashed his talent full throttle, absolutely sure he was going to pay for it in a big way later. He managed to constrict the iliac artery and clot a whole slew of capillaries that were oozing blood around the entrance wound. Or was that the exit? What the hell, the one in the front of Jonas's abdomen. Back near the kidney, he let his fingers and his mind explore the damage there. There were several more torn blood vessels and a laceration to the capsule and outer cortex of the kidney; luckily that wasn't too bad. One of the bigger nerves was traumatized but not severed. Peter soothed the erratic conduction of the nerve. Better assessment and repair there would have to wait.
Peter felt Danny's arms wrap around his torso and returned a fraction of his awareness to his own body. He realized he was sagging backward against Danny.
"Vithoulkas? Hey Peter, are you gonna pass out on me?" Danny demanded.
"No… no… need more glucose. I'm just running out of steam." His voice sounded thick and distant. He could feel Danny hold him a little tighter with one arm, while the opposite fed him the tablets. Geez, the overly sweet taste was getting revolting. Danny's thigh was pressed against his butt, making sure his legs didn't completely buckle.
Peter crunched the glucose and choked them down.
He needed all the energy he could get; his body was burning through it at a furious speed. The heavy thup-thup sound of a helicopter drew his attention.
"They're here," said the corpsman, still eyeing Peter strangely.
Jonas Nightengale was put into a Stokes basket and carried to the waiting helicopter. As he was being loaded in, Peter looked back at Danny standing several steps away.
Danny was yelling at the corpsman over the rotor sound of the helicopter, "Here, make sure Vithoulkas eats these. He's got blood sugar issues and I don't want him crashing out." He shoved a water bottle and another tube of glucose tablets in the guy's hand.
"I'll catch up to you in a few hours at the hospital,"
shouted Valentine in Peter's direction. "Take care of Nightengale."
Peter nodded. His patient was just barely stable, and the helicopter flight was not going to be
short. He gave Danny a thumbs up and hopped in next to Nightengale.
***
One of Espeleta's arms was dragged over top of Rayden's shoulder as Rayden, Tabano and the once missing operative came into the field command. Danny hurried in their direction. "Den! God, you have no clue how worried we've been about you!" Danny said, giving Espeleta a rough hug. He took Rayden's place at Dennis' side and helped the man in the direction of the triage area. "Hey, can I get you to check my guy out?" Valentine asked one of the corpsmen as he eased Espeleta down to sit on a crate. "You're gonna be fine," Danny reassured Dennis, as he dropped to a knee beside the man. He let his talents roam across the surface of Espeleta's mind. The operative was shaken, and in some moderate physical pain, but remarkably, seemed to be mentally holding it together pretty well. However, Danny wasn't sure exactly how long that was likely to last once the last of the adrenaline of being rescued had worn off and the rest of the trauma set in.
***
In the military hospital, Danny found Peter Vithoulkas sprawled on his stomach on a wooden bench in the hallway, asleep. One arm dangled off the edge. Danny was somewhat loathe to wake him, but he wanted to know if Peter had heard anything about Jonas'
condition. He squatted down beside the healer and gently shook him by the shoulder.
"Peter?" Danny said softly.
The man's head bobbed up, looking disoriented.
"Huh? Oh hey."
"You hear anything about Jonas yet?"
"Yeah, he got out of surgery, um…" Peter peered at his watch. "About half an hour ago. He's tentatively stable now, but it was apparently touch and go for a little while when they started repairing the torn artery."
"How are you doing?" asked Danny.
"Fine, I'm just dog-tired. What about Espeleta?"
"They're treating him for dehydration. He's banged up and pretty shaken, but okay. I think he could probably benefit from a good session with Benford," Danny said, referring so Division P's head psychologist.
"When this is all done, Jonas should have a few rounds with Stephen, too. What about the rest of the team? Where are they?"
"Recovering, more or less. I got us all rooms at the base's temporary housing. They can shower, eat and grab some down time. Speaking of which, did you ever eat? I'm sure all those sugar tablets weren't much more than a stop gap measure."
"Yeah, I grabbed some food in the cafeteria a while ago. I could probably use some more though."
"How 'bout we swing by the mess hall and pick up some stuff, then you can go crash. No offense, but you look like shit."
Peter gave him half a grin and said, "Yeah, I probably do."
"The housing is kind of tight for available rooms right now. I said we'd share. I hope you don't mind."
Danny was a little uncertain exactly where they stood, despite what had happened a couple of nights ago out in the demilitarized zone.
"No problem," said Peter.
***
Trudging up the corridor of the Spartan dormitory-like base housing, Peter reflected on the events of the past few days. They'd found their missing agent, Dennis Espeleta. Good. Another member of their team had been critically injured in the process. Bad. But Nightengale was alive and all indications at the moment were that he would continue to improve. Thank God.
As Danny Valentine walked along beside him, Peter was glad of his presence. Danny had proved to be a dependable colleague, relatively cool under pressure and… Peter would really like to revisit that kiss now that they were no longer in the war zone.
The two of them stopped in front of a door and Danny unlocked it. Inside, the room had the minimum necessary amenities: two single beds, night stand, chest of drawers and a desk. The bathroom was off to one side. Danny pushed the door shut.
Now was as good a time as any. Peter pushed his taller colleague back against the wall and clasped his hands around Danny's head, pulling him down into a hard kiss. Against his body, he felt Danny jerk a little.
Shit. He'd misjudged how open Danny was to the idea of the two of them. Damn, he was tired, and just plain not paying enough attention. Peter started to pull away, but firm hands restrained him, holding him close.
"It's okay," Danny whispered. "You just caught me off guard." His face dipped toward Peter's and he returned the kiss. In another half a minute they were pushing and pulling at clothing, T-shirts hitting the floor and belts being yanked loose. Danny paused again.
"What?" Peter whimpered, impatience reigning.
"You're covered in blood," said Danny slowly.
Peter looked down. Jonas Nightengale's blood had apparently soaked through his shirt in several places and dried on his skin.
"Oh, um," Peter mumbled.
Danny pushed him in the direction of the bathroom.
"Neither of us has had a shower in three days. I think we're due."
"You have a point."
They stripped the rest of the way while the shower warmed up. Peter let his eyes roam down the length of Danny's body as they got under the spray. Six feet four inches of hard lean muscle, the man was a good six inches taller than Peter himself. All those sculpted planes and curves, and the package was proportional to the rest of him.
Danny reached out and grabbed the fresh bar of soap from the sink and peeled the wrapper off before stepping into the shower. He began to rub it across the dried blood on Peter's chest and belly. The foam turned brown-red, and sluiced away as the water hit it. He continued, soaping lower down Peter's hip, down his hardening cock and under his balls. Peter groaned. It had been a while since hands other than his own had touched him. Danny dropped to his knees and lathered down Peter's legs, strong fingers running along tight muscles.
Grabbing Peter's hips, he turned Peter to face the water and dragged the bar of soap slowly up the crack of Peter's ass before kneading the curves of his butt. Danny stood back up and wrapped both arms around Peter's body, reaching forward to stroke Peter's cock as he ground himself against the base of Peter's spine.
Peter braced one hand on the wall, letting himself thrust into the obliging tightness of Danny's hand. He let his psychic shielding fall open, eager to feel the other man's mind sliding against his own.
He could tell Danny's pleasure was equal to his own, as his partner's shields were melting away too. As their soap-slicked bodies ground together, Danny bent his head forward to nip at Peter's ear, the corner of his jaw, down the side of his neck. Peter could hear Danny's harsh, uneven breathing at the side of his face. Riding the crest of the tension, Peter's fingers clawed at the tile as he splattered semen on the shower wall and over Danny's fingers. Danny's own release was seconds later as he pressed Peter's body flat to the wall with his own.
Peter felt both the warm spurting surge against his back and the toe curling spasm of pleasure that washed out from Danny's mind.
Danny's arm was still wound tightly around Peter's body and it was just about all that kept him upright for the next couple of minutes as he struggled to catch his breath. Eventually he turned within the circle of Danny's embrace to face him. He kissed Danny, a deep open-mouthed thank you, then he fished the soap up from where it had fallen on the floor and began to wash Danny. There was something entrancing about the solid presence of Danny's mind in his as his hands traced pecs and abs and quads and glutes. Jesus, the man could pass as the model for some Teutonic god.
Exhaustion was catching up again fast. Peter faltered in his exploration of that gorgeous body, his own wanting to fall into sleep while he stood in the comforting heat of the shower.
"You're almost out on your feet," Danny said as he reached back to turn off the water.
"Sorry," Peter apologized thickly.
"Don't be. Come on, let's go to bed. You need the rest."
Danny helped him dry off and guided him out into the main room. Peter sank onto one of the beds, too tired to hunt for skivvies in his duffle bag.
"I know the bed's not very big. Do you want company?" Danny asked.
&n
bsp; Peter nodded and scooted over against the wall that flanked the bed. The same sort of feelings that had made him almost unconsciously reach out to Danny out in the field were still present. He'd spent hours holding Jonas Nightengale in the land of the living. On some primal level he needed the comforting touch of someone who wasn't on the verge of dying.
Snuggled together in the narrow bed, Danny whispered, "You and me, is this some kind of stress response thing?"
"I don't know," replied Peter. "Does it matter?"
"No."
***
"Where's Vithoulkas?" asked Rayden as Danny sat down at a table with the remainder of his men in the base mess hall to eat breakfast. "Still sleeping. He was wiped out after what he did for Jonas yesterday," Danny replied. All of his team received basic information on the Talents of their colleagues when they went through training. They also were taught awareness of some of the special vulnerabilities of various psi as well. "You hear anything more about Jonas?"
"I checked with the hospital. He's still in ICU, but he's fairly stable," said Claydon.
"Good. I talked to Bottman an hour ago. He's working on arrangements to airlift him to Landstahl in Germany in a couple of days. Then hopefully, fingers crossed and all that, he'll be flown back to headquarters in a week or so, for recovery and rehab," Danny told them.
"I'm guessing we're not hanging around that long,"
speculated Tabano.
"No, you're right. Barring a downturn for Jonas or some problem on the flight end of things, the rest of us are leaving at 2200."
***
The Division P team, minus Jonas, left Kosovo that night, and made it as far as LRMC in Germany with the intention of catching a MAC flight back to the states. The weather, however, had different ideas and the flight was postponed until the following day.
