Jon gazed down the corridor before answering, feeling another faint trembling under his feet. It felt mild compared to everything that came before, probably an aftershock.
“Earthquake,” he muttered. “Jesus. That really was an earthquake?”
“Yes, brother,” Wreg said. “We’ve just been told more might be coming.”
“How strong?”
“Vik says that was about a 7.4,” he said. “But there’s some kind of plate activity happening. We’ve got a tsunami warning. There were four others off the coast. Most to the south of us. They have tsunami warnings in the Carolinas, and in D.C.”
Jon got lost briefly in his head, feeling sick.
“It really is the end of the world, isn’t it?” he said.
Instead of answering, Wreg sent a pulse of warmth directly to his chest. “Where are you, brother? Can I come to you?”
Jon nodded, then realized he hadn’t activated the VR setting of the headset. “Yeah.” Remembering what he’d been thinking before the ground started moving under his feet, he blurted, “Wait. I was going to come down. Are you in the lobby?”
“Where are you?” Wreg repeated, his voice patient.
“I’m on fifty-seven, by my old room.” Jon hesitated, feeling the seer wait for him continue. It hit him that he’d already said it was his “old” room. “…I thought I’d get a new room," he added lamely. “I was heading back down, like I said.”
“No need,” Wreg said, dismissive. “And stay off the elevators for now, okay? Just until the tech team can look them over, make sure they’re reinforced for any more seismic activity.”
Jon tensed, feeling something else behind the seer’s words, a flicker of intent maybe, along with a visual. He felt the seer notice his reaction, but said it anyway.
“Wreg… no. It’s too soon.”
There was a silence.
Jon found himself holding his breath and realized he was trying to feel the other man’s reaction. He also realized something else: Wreg was shielding from him.
Sighing, Jon sent an apology through his light, opening more to Wreg’s.
“I just mean for now,” he clarified. “For now, I thought I’d get a smaller room. So we’d have options, you know? Why put pressure on things?”
He felt Wreg thinking, and waited.
He still couldn’t feel much; the other man continued to shield from him, although Jon didn’t feel any anger there. He was trying to decide what he could feel, when pain hit him, strong enough that Jon closed his eyes, leaning against the wall by the elevator doors. He felt Wreg’s shoulder injury in that flash of pain, the injury he only learned about while he’d been herded through quarantine protocols with the rest of the humans.
He also realized something else.
He was lying to himself. Again.
The understanding made him angry more than anything, although not at Wreg.
He was still fighting this thing between them, and mostly out of fear––along with an attempt to control things, including Wreg himself. He was still trying to pace this out like he would any other relationship, meaning a human one. He was trying to do things the way they made sense to his head, not what he wanted, or even what felt right to him.
“I’m sorry,” he said, and meant it. “Where are you?”
The seer answered, still halfway behind a shield. “I was heading up. Do you want me to pick up a new key for you? For a smaller room, I mean.”
“No,” Jon said, sighing again. “I want you to tell me what you were talking about before. When you said there was no need for me to get a new room.”
“Jon,” he said. “I was being presumptuous. I can wait.”
“I’m not sure I can,” Jon admitted.
He covered his face with a hand as he spoke, and realized he was still shaking with adrenaline. He was born and raised in San Francisco, and here he was trembling like a schoolboy from a damned earthquake, while Wreg acted like it was just another detail in their ongoing end of the world scenario.
“Just tell me what you had in mind, Wreg,” he said. “We said we were going to be honest about this stuff.”
“So you were not being honest before?” Wreg said. “With this need of options between us?”
Jon sighed, hearing the other meaning in that, too.
“I never meant it like that. I’m not talking about other people options, Wreg… just living options.” Realizing he was still avoiding the question, he added, “And no. I wasn’t being entirely honest.”
Feeling a pulse off the seer he couldn’t interpret, Jon exhaled.
“Look, Wreg. I’m trying to be responsible about all of this. I’m just not exactly sure what that means. My model for how this kind of thing is supposed to work may not be… well, appropriate.” He winced at the inadequacy of the word. “Does that make sense at all?”
“It makes sense, Jon.”
Jon let out a half-snort. “No, it doesn’t.” Grunting, he added, “Admit it. You’re humoring the brainwashed, uptight worm-guy.”
Wreg laughed. For the first time since the beginning of the conversation, his light opened.
“Honestly? I’m more trying not to pressure you to sleep with me… when I really, really want to pressure you to come sleep with me.”
“We just had an earthquake,” Jon said. “Aren’t you on high alert or something?”
“No. I already signed off. Fuck them. If they need me, they can wait.”
“Is your shoulder okay?” Jon said. “Does it still hurt?”
“If I say yes, are you more likely to come to my bed, instead of insisting on this other bed in your smaller room?”
“I might be,” Jon admitted. “When are you coming up?”
Just then, the elevator doors opened. Once they’d gotten about two feet apart, Jon found himself facing Wreg. The tattooed seer dropped his hand from where he’d just turned off the headset, giving Jon a faint smile.
“Hello, brother.”
Jon rolled his eyes. “So much for waiting on using the elevators. Or does that only count for the boyfriends of overprotective monsters like you?”
“Can you rappel down the shaft with a broken arm, using the cables? Or hot-wire the box, if the organics shut down?”
Jon hesitated, then made a concessionary gesture. “No. Probably not.”
“Can you reprogram the doors to open if you get stuck between floors? Could you do it alone, in the event you are cut off from communicating with the rest of us?”
Jon rolled his eyes. “No.”
“Well. There you have it. Although you should learn that shit, you know. Stop being such a lazy fucker with your ops training.” Wreg frowned, slipping briefly back into military mode. “I’ll put you with Gar tomorrow, have him give you a 101 on organics. Your sight’s good enough now. He can work with you on breaking pass-codes and bypassing network security, too. You can’t always rely on one of us for these things.”
His dark eyes lit up then, holding a glint Jon felt somewhere in his lower belly.
“…Boyfriend, eh?” he said.
Jon sighed, shoving his hands in his pockets. Without answering, he motioned his head down the corridor in the direction of his old room.
“So? Why are you here?” Jon said.
“I thought you might need help. With Feigran’s books.”
Jon clicked at him. “Feigran’s books. I see.” Shaking his head when the seer didn’t respond, he prompted, “…And? Am I getting a few things for myself, too?”
Seeing Wreg’s grin, and feeling his own light warm in response, Jon realized again that this thing wasn’t going to be rational, or move at anything like what he considered a sane pace for a relationship. Seeing Wreg watching him cautiously, Jon sighed again, averting his eyes.
“So?” he said. “We have a room, right? Or were you just screwing with me before?”
“We have a room.” Wreg’s dark eyes focused down the hallway, even as Jon felt another pulse of pain off him. “…And
yes. I am here to help you move a few things. But Nenz did want me to see to those books. Personally, I mean.”
Jon nodded, fighting not to let his reaction to the seer’s light show.
Wreg felt tired, though.
There was a lot of pain on him, yeah, but it was both kinds, and for a moment, Jon found himself lost in the physical, and decidedly less-sexy variety. He felt Wreg’s shoulder the strongest, but he felt other things, too––bruises he’d earned in one part of the op in Argentina or another, a back injury left over from the work camp in Manaus, along with a number of pulled muscles, strains and whatever else.
It occurred to him he hadn’t seen the seer alone much, not since Wreg left New York to lead the op in Brazil. He also hadn’t seen him naked, at least not in full light.
Wreg didn’t quite meet Jon’s gaze while Jon thought all this. Instead, he glanced down the hall, motioning towards Jon’s old room with his hand.
His voice turned carefully polite.
“Do you mind picking up a few things for tonight? You can decide where to put the rest later.” He made a more apologetic gesture.
“…And Jon, about Nenz wanting me to get the books. It’s not because he doesn’t trust you to do it. It’s more protection. I think he’s worried they could disappear. We’ve got a lot of new people roaming the halls. We don’t want to kill someone accidentally while we figure out how to reconfigure the security grids, so until we get that all cleaned up and all of them briefed on where they can and can’t go, he wants me to lock the books up in one of the safes on the secure floor. The elevators won’t even go up there without a Barrier and DNA key, so there shouldn’t be a problem with an accidental breach.”
“Secure floor?” Jon said.
Jon aimed his feet down the hallway once he realized Wreg was waiting for him to lead the way. Hands still shoved in his pockets, he tried to ignore, or at least push back, the coil of nausea that wanted to rise in his belly now that their light was so close together.
Fighting to control the accompanying heat in his chest, he kept his eyes on the hallway and away from the seer.
If Wreg was hurt, he would just have to wait.
“…Which floor is that?” he said, clearing his throat.
“Sixty-third,” Wreg said. “There’s a suite up there not being used. I thought we’d take the books there. It’s got its own construct.”
Jon snorted involuntarily. “Its own construct?” He glanced over, raising an eyebrow at the taller seer. “That’s interesting, Wreg. Really interesting.”
Wreg smiled, holding up a hand. “I had nothing whatsoever to do with it, brother. It was a present.” Glancing at Jon, he let his smile creep wider. “…Or maybe a massive hint. Oli pulled me aside after breakfast to give me the key.”
“Revik,” Jon said, sighing.
“Actually, no.” A laugh seemed to come out of him involuntarily. “Adhipan.”
“Balidor?” Jon said, dumbfounded.
Wreg clicked his tongue in amusement. “I guess getting laid put him in a good mood.” He glanced at Jon, adding more hesitantly, “Actually, he’s known for awhile. About us. Jorag told me he’d already designed the construct ‘as a precaution,’ and worked it into his overall security plans before the wedding. He kept me out of it, of course.”
“Before the wedding,” Jon muttered.
“Yeah.” Wreg gave him a cautious look, one Jon chose to not try and interpret.
“Balidor sees too much, if you ask me,” he said instead.
Wreg shrugged, but Jon was startled to see color rise to his dark skin.
“Whatever conspiracy there was, it didn’t involve me,” he grunted. “Although, I think I was pretty open and clear with the flirting part beforehand, wasn’t I?”
“No,” Jon said, knocking into him playfully. “You weren’t.”
He’d forgotten about the seer’s hurt shoulder though, and winced violently when he felt sympathetic pain through Wreg’s light.
“Jesus. Sorry.” He touched the seer’s arm in apology, a flush of guilt hitting him when Wreg shrugged it off with a smile. “I’m used to you being tank-guy. Not wounded tank-guy. Shit, man. I’m really sorry.”
Wreg waved it off, smiling wider as he slowed before Jon’s old door.
Using the key card, Jon continued to glance at the seer, wondering at how quiet he was. Had he really hurt his feelings with the thing about getting a new room? Or was Wreg’s shoulder bothering him more than Jon realized?
Had the painkillers worn off, or was he just exhausted from the trip?
“Maybe a little of all of that, brother,” Wreg said, his voice showing his tiredness. “Do you really want to lie down with me? I’m not pressuring you, am I?”
“Are you actually asking?” Jon said, cocking an eyebrow. “That’s a first.”
He pushed open the hotel room door, glancing back, even as Wreg met his gaze. The vulnerability Jon saw on the other’s face shook him a bit, even as he felt it open his heart.
“Hey! I was kidding.” Stopping inside the door, he wrapped an arm around the seer’s neck. “I’m sorry about what I said before. About the other room… about the options thing. It was stupid.”
Wreg shook his head, withdrawing his light in what might have been embarrassment.
“There’s nothing to be sorry about,” he said, and that time he really sounded tired. “I am asking. I don’t want to be alone right now.” When Jon looked at Wreg’s shoulder, the seer shook his head again. “…It’s not that.”
Jon studied his face. Remembering what happened to the seer at that house in Argentina, he sighed, cursing himself silently for being an idiot.
“It’s the Shadow thing,” he said. “Menlim.”
Wreg shrugged, his hand making a more or less gesture in seer sign language.
“Stupid, eh?” he said, smiling a little. “I guess it spooked me. How much power that old fuck had over me, even after all these years.”
Jon gripped his black hair, feeling a sharp, nearly overpowering swell of emotion, something between pride, protectiveness, and reassurance. “Wreg, you did great. You kept your head on straight. More than me. More than Revik.”
“Nenz has a lot more reasons to fear that old fossil,” Wreg muttered. He met Jon’s gaze. “Have you seen his back? Those scars there?”
Jon nodded, remembering the green-tiled cell in the Caucasus Mountains.
Wreg sighed, running a hand through his black hair. Feeling the weight growing on the other man’s light, Jon found himself understanding something else.
“You feel guilty,” Jon said, sighing for real that time. “Jesus, Wreg. What Menlim did wasn’t your fault. Revik told me you weren’t even around for most of that.”
Wreg waved him off, but Jon felt a pulse of nausea off the older seer.
“I knew,” he said simply. “Gods. Do you have any idea what kind of beatings he would have endured, to have scars like that, Jon? The fucker burned him with brands. He beat him down to the bone, then put beatings on top of that, before they’d even healed.”
Jon winced. Shaking his head, he shoved his hands into his pockets.
“No,” he said. “I didn’t know that.” He watched Wreg frown at the carpet, trying to decide if he should approach him or not.
“Wreg,” he said after another pause. “You already know why you stayed. You were completely hooked into his construct. Hell, Revik stayed. The whole logic thing got turned upside down in that place, from what Allie told me. And weren’t seers being tortured and experimented on and slaughtered during that whole period in history? I can see why Revik’s thing might seem like a ‘noble sacrifice’ from that perspective. Revik told me he felt nothing but admiration for his uncle, and what he’d done to train him.”
Wreg gestured in affirmative, but his expression looked distant.
Approaching cautiously, Jon slid a hand around Wreg’s head, gripping his hair.
“Come on, man,” he said. “You’re all right.
Honestly. If you’re really worried about being vulnerable or whatever, maybe talk to Tarsi.”
Wreg grunted. “That old woman’s still pissed at me for leaving the Adhipan. One hundred years, and she’s still holding a grudge.”
Jon smiled, but tugged Wreg’s hair again. “Ask her anyway.”
“Maybe I will,” Wreg conceded. There was a pause, then his black eyes sharpened on Jon’s. “Why did you go into that crate, brother?”
At Jon’s surprised look, Wreg pressed his lips together.
“…On the sub. Why didn’t you wait for me? I told you––you didn’t have to do that, go into quarantine with the others. I told Jorag, too. He said you were down there when he brought the humans. He said you were already asleep.”
Puzzled, Jon shook his head. “I honestly don’t remember that.”
Wreg grunted. “Of course you don’t remember it. You were asleep. But why did you go down there to sleep in the first place? I would have found you a bunk.”
“No,” Jon said, shaking his head. “I mean, I don’t remember going down there at all. I assumed one of you put me there. I don’t think it was me.”
Wreg stared at him. “What do you mean, you don’t think it was you?”
“What I said. I don’t think I walked down there on my own.” Jon pursed his lips, puzzled by the tense look rising to the other’s face. “Honestly, I figured it was you, that you changed your mind for some reason. You really don’t know who put me down there?”
“No.” Wreg stared at him, his voice and eyes suddenly hard, his full mouth curled in a frown. “I have no idea who it was, Jon.”
“And that’s weird because…?”
When the other didn’t reply, Jon tried again.
“Look, it had to be one of your people, right? If not Jorag, someone else. We were the only ones in that part of the base. Anyway, I kind of doubt Shadow’s people would have knocked me out just to leave me in that crate… right?”
Wreg only frowned.
For a too-long pause, the infiltrator’s black eyes remained on Jon’s, as if trying to look through him. Jon could almost see the seer thinking behind that stare, although he had no idea where his mind was going exactly.
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