riptide_asylum (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
riptide_asylum) wrote2008-12-21 10:46 pm
riptide_asylum) wrote2008-12-21 10:46 pm
Entry tags:
"Helitack - Part II" (Out of the Dark, 1987)
Title: Helitack
Rating: R
Summary: A helicopter crash during a California wildfire brings back uncomfortable memories for Cody, and sparks a desperate search.
IV.
The whole damn clearing was on fire.
The heat and the stench of spilled fuel was astounding. But the look in Nick's eyes hit him like a clenched fist.
One corner of Nick's mouth turned up in a smirk. "I'm just gonna check over there, okay Allen? I'll be right back."
Cody's heart dropped at the look in Nick's eyes. He'd seen that look. They both had, right before some poor guy lost it and stood up in an open field or threw himself on a grenade.
Or ate his service weapon.
No. Not Nick. Please god no.
Nick turned to go, his face smudged with grime and blood and sweat. He took two steps before Cody's hindbrain shot him in the ass. He grabbed Nick, hard from behind, getting his arms around that broad chest, reaching as far as he could around his partner and just hanging on for dear life.
Nick struggled, screaming obscenities Cody refused to hear; he used every last ounce of energy to keep Nick from going "over there", wherever there was, whatever he figured he could find in this stinking fucked-up jungle, whatever he'd been planning. It was like wrestling a rabid bear.
Cody's fatigues clung to him, soaked through with sweat and blood and god knew what else. The cut in his leg throbbed but still he held on. Every last thought went towards not letting Nick go.
Nick raged. He screamed, bellowing for what felt like an eternity, until finally his voice came out in a hollow squeak and he fell to his knees, Cody's arms still tight around him.
Cody woke with a start, conscious of three things: he'd fallen asleep sitting against one wall of the Visitor's Center, Murray's hand was on his arm, and Nick was nowhere to be found.
He blinked sleepily, pushing the horror, the memories, back into their box. "I said something?"
Murray's face was a picture of concern. "Well, you shouted something that sounded like 'don't die'. I think you were having a nightmare."
Cody laughed hollowly. "You could say that."
I've woken to another one, he thought. Dammit, I've gotta get back out there and find Nick.
His head in his hands, Cody allowed himself a moment to wonder what Nick was feeling; he prayed that whatever he felt it wasn't pain, and that somehow he knew Cody was coming for him, that all these unspoken prayers were singing across the ether to him, on the connection that was theirs and theirs alone.
A pair of regulation field boots appeared in front of him. Pitbull squatted until his face was nearly level with Cody's. "Allen, you need another rest period?"
Cody was instantly awake. "No sir. I'm ready to get back out on the trails. I'm assuming we're continuing to search through the night, sir?"
"We are, yes. Soldier, we've had some bad news."
Cody's heart dropped. Please, he thought. Just give me one more chance to find him.
"The fire's turned. There's been a blowup to the west, just past Divide Canyon. All rescuers with wildland fire experience are being sent to the frontline." He read something in Cody's expression and held his hands up in a placating gesture. "I've managed to convince the powers that be that there's still a chance this is a rescue mission. That's bought us a few hours, but not many. You've all gotta get back out there at first light. That includes you, Colonel."
Cody pushed himself roughly to his feet, using the wall for support. Murray rose next to him.
"I've been able to keep you two and Pederson. Everyone else has been pulled off for the fireline. We've got a fresh team of SAR volunteers supposedly coming up from San Diego in the morning, but this fire's got everyone's panties in a right twist."
The three of them were silent, absorbing the implications of this news. The thready whine of the window air conditioner was barely audible over the sounds of night insects. Cody looked around. The Visitor's Center had emptied while he'd slept. Now it was just the three of them.
And Nick, he silently amended. Peterson was nowhere in sight.
Pitbull put both hands on Cody's shoulders. "Son, it's up to you." He looked at Murray. "And you of course, Colonel."
Murray rocked back and forth on his feet but kept silent.
Pitbull turned away. "Here's the new plan. Peterson's a damn good climber, the best we've got. If you can keep up with him, I'm going to send you up Overlook Peak. That should give you the best viewpoint for the south and west. If that doesn't work, we'll get you back, then send you up Mt. Resurrection in the east, then Hawkins Peak, and Scout Peak, if necessary. It's a helluva lot of hiking and climbing for one day, so let's hope we get lucky early. If the weather clears, we'll try to get an aerial survey in at dawn, see if we can spot any wreckage, anything that could possibly narrow the search area. But that's gonna depend on you, Cody. How's your climbing?"
Cody looked at him levelly. "Wherever Peterson goes, I can follow, no matter what. I will get up any mountainside, as long as it brings us closer to the chopper."
Pitbull slapped his cheek paternally. "You're a good man, Allen. I knew I could count on you."
Murray cleared his throat. "How's the weather for that survey, General?"
"Well, it's still sulking like a fat girl on prom night, but now's just a matter of time." Pitbull looked at his watch. "It's 0430 right now; Allen, if you can manage it at all, you and Peterson should be up and out of here by 0500. From everything those pussy rangers have told me, those boars are fat, lazy creatures and they like their beauty sleep. They'll be heading home right about now."
Cody nodded just as Peterson emerged from the bathroom. Amazingly, he looked as focused and energetic as the first time he and Cody had left the Visitor's Center twelve hours before. Pitbull clapped an iron hand on Cody's shoulder. "Allen, you listen to me. You go out there, and you find our men, you got that."
Cody nodded, unable to break free of the general's steely gaze.
He continued. "You do whatever you have to do to get this mission done. No matter what. Am I clear?"
Cody found his voice. "You can count on me, Pi--General. I'm gonna find them. I won't let you down. I won't let them down. I won't."
"I know you won't, Cody." Pitbull's voice was kind, and he and Cody stared at each other for another few seconds until the general appeared to pull himself together. He gave his lieutenant a few sharp slaps on the cheek. "You've got your orders, son."
Peterson pushed his way out through the restroom's swinging door and bounced over. "What'd I miss?"
---
"I don't like this, Allen, I don't like it one fucking bit." The two of them stood in the pearl-like dawn light of the parking lot, checking gear for the climb. As he spoke, Peterson coiled a brightly colored rope over his shoulders. "I don't know you from the Son of Sam and you're my belayer? You? Between me and certain death." Peterson shook his head. "If it wasn't so important to get them back, I'd tell you to go fuck yourself, that's for damn sure."
Cody stepped quickly into the younger man's space. He took a deep breath. "Let's get one thing straight, Peterson. You and I are here for the same reason: finding that chopper as fast as possible. Now, I'll do anything to make that happen, including being the best damn belayer you've ever had, okay? So just relax, and trust me. We're gonna get up every peak we need to in order to find them. Nothing else matters, okay?"
The two of them squared off for a moment, an array of brightly colored metal objects at their feet. They'd both been up most of the night. Every time Cody opened his eyes--and before his nightmare, sleep had been in short supply--he saw Peterson sitting on the other side of the lodge, seemingly staring off into space, eyes wide open. Looking at him now, in the ultrarealistic dawn light, Cody wondered why this recovery effort was so important to him. Eventually he stepped back, giving Peterson his space. "C'mon. The sooner we finish packing, the sooner we can hit the trail." He managed a smile.
Peterson managed something nearly similar, warily, then returned his attention to the gear. "Let me rack up, Allen. Unless you've done some big walls you're not telling me about, I'm in charge of this part of the operation. I'm not planning on getting killed before I get back--before we get everyone home safe.
Cody made his features soft and accommodating, and hoped they were convincing. "Anything you say, I'm happy to follow. Let's just get them back safe." Pitbull, I hope you know what you're doing, because there's something off about this guy.
With an ease borne of long practice, Peterson sank to his knees on the asphalt and counted out various sized nuts and cams, stoppers and quickdraws, carabiners and slings, dividing them neatly into two piles. Despite his distrust of the young soldier, Cody realized that if anyone could get him to the top of a cliff, it would be Peterson. He squatted next to him and started to ask about the cams they'd be taking, but one look from Peterson convinced him otherwise. Rising, Cody went over to their packs and doublechecked their supplies for the day.
Given the urgent nature of the assignment and the time constraints, they'd be taking one small haul bag between them, with enough water for the two of them, Army rations, Boz's receiver, and basic emergency supplies, hopefully enough for the two of them to do basic triage on any injuries they found.
Unbidden, an image sliced into Cody's mind like a hot knife: he knelt in sweaty pampas grass next to a young soldier, blond and pug-nosed like Peterson. He could still feel the soldier's--Murphy, that was it, Carl Murphy's--hand in his own. He'd gripped Murphy's hand as hard as he could, babbling, speaking whatever words found their way into his mouth as Murphy lay dying half a world away from Scranton, Pennsylvania. He'd been severed just below the hips by a shard of rotor blade. As Cody bent double in the cool California dawn, he saw the last of Carl Murphy's life leach away, the grass beneath his corpse red and wet, the stickiness of blood-soaked jungle nearly indistinguishable from the hot fetid air. When it was all over, he'd gone and put his arms around Nick, who sat cradling one of Murphy's legs in his arms, rocking and keening like a wild animal. It had take him twenty minutes to get Nick to let go.
Cody spat, pale froth on dark tarmac, an incantation against the horrors that were fighting their way out of the carefully sealed box. Carl Murphy. He hadn't thought of him in years. Hadn't seen the guy's freckled puppy face, the geysers of blood where his thighs should have been. Cody shook his head and fought his way upright, making his way back to Peterson and the present day, the pale sunlight starting to lighten the hills around them.
Nick, you're not Carl Murphy, and what happened that day wasn't your fault. And whatever's happened out here, we're gonna get through it just like we did Dong Nai, buddy.
Together.
Wordlessly, Peterson handed Cody a full rack of shiny gear which jingled faintly as he pulled the harness snug around his slender waist. Neither of them spoke as they headed for the trailhead.
---
Four hours in, Cody's shoulders felt like a fire had started deep inside his collarbone, spreading outwards, through his chest and down his arms. He hadn't been climbing in at least a decade, and despite a strict regimen of beach volleyball and beer, he'd forgotten how tough it was. But he refused to show any weakness.
They'd taken the Condor Gulch trail this morning, the fastest route to Overlook Peak. The whole way there, neither of them spoke, both of them hustling down the trail as fast as they were able, staring warily for any sign of the crash, moving with quick determination as the mountains came alive around them.
Peterson was just as good a climber as Pitbull had promised. He'd gotten them up the first half of Overlook in what felt to Cody like record time, making the tiniest of cracks and divots a safe and welcome home for the cams and stoppers they carried. Each one Cody tested as he came to it, and each one he found firm, stable, anchored. What was the term? Oh yeah: 'bombproof'. Cody allowed himself a smirk at the irony.
"Slack! Come on, Allen, play it out. I ain't got all day!"
Cody hurriedly slid the rope out through his hands, giving Peterson enough to clip in to the newest piece of protection. He squinted up the cliff, his viewpoint revealing only a dark silhouette above him.
The day had rapidly come on hot and hazy, and Cody's fatigues were already soaked through. They were still a good thousand feet from the top of the cliff, but Peterson's energy showed no sign of flagging. He continued to climb quick and precise, complaining good-naturedly when Cody took longer to cover the same distance on the line he set up for each segment. Each time the complaints took a mean turn, Cody redoubled his efforts, imagining Nick at the top, waiting for him, calling him onwards. Needing him.
He heard the telltale clink of a quickdraw above, and watched as Peterson continued to scrabble up the mountainside. A wave of fatigue overcame his adrenaline and fear. "Hey! Peterson! Peterson! Wait!"
His climbing partner stopped, balanced on a slender ledge. "What?"
"Water break!" Cody secured the line at his hip and waited for Peterson to acknowledge, which he did with a disgusted shake of his head. He mumbled something too soft for Cody to hear, but Cody decided he didn't care as Peterson lay back on the line, signalling assent. With a shake of his own head, he pulled his canteen forward and took a long satisfying swallow. California hadn't invented a heat that could beat Vietnam, but today it seemed to be doing its level best to draw even. He took another swallow of lukewarm water.
"Let's go! Come on!"
Cody looked up and gritted his teeth. As far as he could tell, Peterson hadn't even touched his water. Whatever superhuman health regimen this guy is on, I want some. Badly. Cody stashed his canteen. "Okay. Climb on!"
"Climbing! Jesus!"
The two of them continued to pull towards the top of the mountain. Cody redoubled his efforts to keep up. To pass the time, he thought about Nick.
He thought about the way Nick looked when he first woke up, satisfied and protective. Cody couldn't count the times he'd been woken by Nick slipping a gentle arm around his chest, or by soft whispers, telling him how safe he was, how wanted. He thought about how Nick looked when he was well and truly about to lose his rag at Cody, lips pursed, eyes bulging. How he looked sitting on the Riptide's deck, nursing beers with him and Murray, relaxed and unafraid, proud as hell of this life they'd made together.
He pictured Nick when he came, pleasurable agony in his expression, just before he buried himself against Cody's chest, burrowing closer, helpless with desire. That was the way Cody liked to think of him best.
He relaxed and let himself fall into the rhythm of the climb, muscles aching and sharp, but knowing that every move brought him closer to Nick, one way or another. Three-quarters of the way up, and Cody felt like he'd been climbing with Peterson his whole damn life; this rock was theirs for the taking.
Then suddenly the nightmare returned. He saw vines, sky, blood, fire, dirt, glass--
Peterson's whoop brought him back to reality.
"What? What is it?" Cody craned his neck upwards.
"I found 'em!" Peterson let out a long low laugh. "Sweet mother of God, I fucking found 'em! They're all up here!"
Cody let out a whoop of his own, every nerve in his body singing, all thoughts of pain and fatigue forgotten. "Great job! Tie off, and I'll be right there!" He saw Peterson's silhouette thirty feet ahead of him against the orange clouds.
Peterson clawed his way over the edge, feet disappearing. Cody felt a sharp jerk on the rope, and gave slack so that Peterson could set their anchor.
"Hey Allen!"
Cody looked up. "Yeah?"
"Been nice knowin' ya!" Then as Cody watched in horror, Peterson tossed the severed end of the rope overhand, out into the smoky morning.
V.
Cody searched the rockface around him frantically, time slowing to a halt as the cut rope sang through the air. He spied a deep pocket above him to the left and, with a grunt, he lunged for it. It was barely within his reach, but he caught it with one hand. Scrabbling for purchase with his feet, he managed to get the other hand next to it, wrapping both sets of fingers around the lip of rock just as the rope reached its full potential below him.
The impact knocked his feet out from under him.
With a savage cry he fell against the rock but held fast. The weight of the rope, hanging fully off him alone, began to pry his fingers loose. He looked down at the cliff-face below, then at the lip of rock only thirty feet above him. Nick.
He dug his feet in, scrambling to place them with enough force. Then carefully, not daring to breathe, he freed his right hand, lowering it to his harness. He tugged at the knot. The strands held fast and he nearly sobbed in frustration. Repositioning his feet, he took a deep breath and worked at the taut strands. One arm of it nearly loosened, just as Cody's own arm began a deep slow throb. He focused on the knot, slow and patient.
From above he heard a sharp cry, followed by coarse laughter, and words too faint for him to make out. With a snarl he attacked the strands of rope, digging ruthlessly with his fingers as his shoulder began to scream. He dimly felt a fingernail rip but paid it no mind as the knot loosened, one strand after the other, then finally fell away entirely, dropping below him quick as a whip.
He was alone on the rock.
The voices continued above him; maddeningly, intonation was the only thing he could make out from so far away. That and the tang of fear, like ozone around him, sharp and unwelcome but deeply familiar.
Without Nick by his side, that feeling sharpened his focus. The crevices in the rock stood out in sharp relief around him--handholds, footholds, pockets, ledges. He saw the way to the top as if it was outlined in gold. And so, unheedful of the danger he faced, left with no protection or gear, Cody began to climb.
The primal part of his brain took over, establishing a rhythm: left foot, right hand. Right foot, left hand. Left foot, right hand. Right foot, left hand.
Until impossibly, he reached the lip of the peak, and pulled himself to safety, gasping and heaving with exertion.
Peterson was right. They'd found the crash site.
The top of Overlook Peak had been flattened by some long-forgotten geologic event, but the more recent injury by helicopter had left the clearing scarred and furrowed, covered in metal and broken glass.
And bodies.
Over to his right, Cody made out a shape under a piece of the fuselage, only the feet visible. The feet were facedown. "No...." Cody whimpered. He scanned the rest of the area. The main body of the chopper had come to rest in most of one piece, on its back, footbars in the air. Against it leaned a dark-haired, pale form, his shirt covered in blood, one arm trussed up in a makeshift sling. He looked wan and exhausted, wracked with pain.
And he was not Nick.
Cody crawled across the clearing, finding his feet, snarling. "Nick! Nick talk to me! Come on!"
Peterson, kneeling at the far side of the clearing, looked up sharply. "You goddamned sonofabitch, Allen. I'll give you this much, you've got a pair on you like one of those goddamned boars!"
Cody glared.
There was a groan from the far left edge of the clearing. A huge piece of metal lay propped up by a smaller chunk of what Cody assumed had been part of the engine. There was maybe two feet of clearance beneath it. He hurried over, sinking to his knees. "Nick," he whispered. "Please, buddy, please." He ducked his head under the improbable metal shield.
Nick's eyes fluttered open. He started to say something, and Cody bent close, crawling most of the way under the metal to hear him.
It saved his life. A shot glanced off the metal and Cody instinctively laid his body on top of his friend's. Pulling his feet in after him, Cody curled up on the ground next to Nick and scrabbled in his pack for the knife he remembered packing that morning. Running across Murray's locator instead, he pushed the button for all he was worth, sending out a silent plea with the signal.
He looked at Nick, the flood of relief he felt at finding him alive tempered by his fear at how still his partner looked, his breathing shallow and color bad. Still, Cody's heart soared at how not-dead he was.
He was still searching for the knife when Peterson's boots appeared in front of him. He looked at Nick, pale and still but miraculously, gorgeously alive and found. He began to crawl out from under the carapace, hands raised. "Don't shoot. Don't shoot, Peterson, whatever's going on here, I'm sure we can work it out." Right after I rip you in two.
Peterson sneered. All pretense at civility had dropped away, and the resulting beast who stood in front of Cody was no longer rational. "What is it you're planning on working out, Allen? You have nothing I want. Now these guys, these guys are a different story. They've got something I was specifically sent here to retrieve. They've got a chance. You? You're a vet who's past his sell-by date. Washed up. Worthless."
Out of the corner of his eye, Cody noticed the pale, dark-haired, broken-armed kid behind Peterson push himself to his feet. He trained his eyes on Peterson and hoped he hadn't noticed the errant glance. But Peterson was too far gone to notice anything.
Cody finally put all the pieces together: the unnatural strength and speed, without eating or drinking, for hours on end. Peterson was a speed freak. Cody hoped that was all he was on. Behind him, the dark-haired man staggered forwards, nearly silent across the charred grass and rocks. Cody kept his eyes focused on Peterson.
"You know, Allen, this is what happens when they send a boy to do a man's job. That waste of space behind me? That was my protege. Yeah, I thought that kid was going places. Best goddamned drug mule I've ever had: bright, motivated...reckless." Peterson spat. "Problem is, the little guy got a little too reckless, running my product on flights I hadn't assigned him, trying to contact my boss, trying to get more shipments, trying to cut me out of it." Peterson's eyes were bright with the light of the truly, deeply unhinged. "I bet if you think real hard, old man, you can figure out how that made me feel."
"I suspect it made you feel reckless yourself." The kid had produced a gun and, as Peterson whirled in surprise, shot him point blank. Peterson slumped to the earth, an expression of abject surprise on his face. It remained there as he fell facefirst and became motionless.
"And now I suspect it makes you feel dead," the gunman concluded sadly.
Cody stared. He and Nick had somehow wandered into the middle of the OK Corral. He looked at the kid in front of him, pale and in obvious agony. He searched for words, but none came.
"It's okay," the kid said, gingerly lowering himself back down to the scorched earth. "I get it, I really do." He looked eons older than he had two minutes ago. "I'm guessing you're here for my co-pilot." He gestured with the gun to where Nick lay, under the metal shelter. Cody forbade himself to turn and look while the kid still had the gun in his hand. He went on. "You must be Cody." He squinted. "Nick didn't stop talking about you the whole week. Cody this, Cody that. He swore to me you'd come for us. I'm Paul, by the way. Wish we could have met under better circumstances, but sometimes life just sucks a big one, you know that?"
Cody found his voice. "Yeah Paul, sometimes it does. Listen, I'm gonna go check on Nick. He's hurt, and he needs help. I just wanna see how bad it is, okay?"
Paul waved the gun generally. "Be my guest. Get it out while you can. I'm gonna have to kill both of you anyway, so feel free to take a moment to do what you've gotta do."
Cody froze, torn between Nick and the gunman.
Nick won out. He always did. Scurrying back under the metal, Cody gently surveyed his partner. Nick opened his eyes again. They were bloodshot, unfocused. "Cody," he whispered. "It's Paul. He---" Nick broke off in a fit of coughing and Cody gently rolled him onto his side, one hand behind his neck. He hoped like hell nothing was broken where he touched.
"Cody..." Nick resettled with obvious difficulty, and as he tried to bend his left leg, an expression of agony crossed his face. Cody looked down. Nick's ankle was broken, that much he could tell just by looking. He ran his hands gently over the rest of Nick's body, long-dormant basic medical training coming to the fore, courtesy Uncle Sam. There were an assortment of cuts--two fairly deep--and bruises, but the ankle looked the most worrisome. Unless there were things he was missing.
Cody dug in his pack for some water, and Paul became alarmed, raising the gun, clicking off the safety. "Hey now, hey now! Come on, don't be stupid."
Cody stopped. "But you're going to kill us both anyway, right?"
Paul thought about this for a second.
"So before you do, could I get Nick some water? He's been out here a pretty long time. So have you, as a matter of fact," Cody went back to his pack, trusting Paul to listen to his voice.
"I'm so thirsty," Paul said sadly. "Do you know how hot it's been up here?"
"I can guess," Cody answered. "It's been hot down there, too, looking for you." He gave a nod in the direction of the cliff-face. "Lemme see what I've got." He felt hard plastic at his fingertips, and pulled out a canteen, extending it to the dark-haired kid. "Here," he said, "you need this."
Paul approached with cautious steps, gun still in hand. He sank gratefully in front of Nick and Cody's shelter, falling on his ass in the process. Cody made sure Paul's fingers were firmly around the canteen before he let go. The kid laid the gun in his lap in order to unscrew the canteen top, but Cody couldn't make himself make a move for it. His fingers brushed the full one still in the pack. He pulled it out and, as Paul looked on, got Nick to drink a little of it, mainly by dint of pouring it directly in his mouth as he cradled Nick's head. After he was satisfied Nick had swallowed at least a few sips, he hazarded a glance back at the gunman, and found him staring back, an unfamiliar expression on his face. Cody looked back at Nick, then at Paul. Envy, he realized. The kid with the gun's envious. But of what? He's got all the cards right now.
Paul caught his gaze and hastily got the gun back in hand. He took another long drink from the canteen, his eyes steady now on Cody.
"Don't drink all that at once," he warned Paul. "You're probably dehydrated, your body needs time to process, to adjust to the water."
Paul stared at the canteen in his hand, then looked up. "You sound like you've done this before, Cody."
Cody sat under the metal shell next to Nick, feeling his partner's shallow breaths against his hip. Please, he thought, please let the transmitter have worked. I could really use some reinforcements right now. He looked up at the sky. It wasn't quite blue, but the haze had disappeared, leaving a solid pale grey in its place. He looked back at Nick, watching his eyes flutter, hoping he would be okay, knowing he was miles away regardless. Nick muttered something, frowning, and Cody pushed himself up onto his knees, straining to hear. Paul made no move to interfere.
"What's wrong, buddy?"
"Cody...they're all...Dennison and Murphy...I killed them...Cody...it's all my...."
Cody soothed Nick as best as he was able, smoothing his hair back from his forehead, murmuring reassurances. Nick was not just miles away, but years too. "Nick...it's gonna be okay." The words felt useless in his mouth, and he wished he could find others that would bring Nick back. Better yet, he wished he could get Nick off this godforsaken hilltop. Paul watched him. Cody had nearly forgotten he was still there. Him and his gun.
He sat back on the stony ground, feeling dry grass crackle beneath him as he moved. "Paul, tell me what happened, here." He brushed the dirt and grass off his hands. "Why'd you guys go down?"
Paul put his head in his hands, and the gun swung menacingly towards where Cody sat guarding Nick. Cody resisted the urge to flinch.
"It was awful, Cody, just..." Paul took his hands away from his eyes. "See, I've only just made corporal, and...look, Nick taught me pretty much everything I know about being a pilot, and I---see my mom, she's sick and--" Paul broke off, grimacing into the far distance over Cody's right shoulder.
Cody's heart ached for the kid. He was maybe twenty, right about the same age he and Nick had been when they went to Vietnam, and he remembered how every crisis had loomed so large, looked so insurmountable. He held his hands up placatingly. "Paul...it's okay, just tell me what brought your chopper down."
Paul nodded manically, scrubbing at his eyes with the hand holding the gun and Cody took a controlled breath. Whatever trouble this kid was in, he was in it up to his eyeballs. "Look, Cody, my mom, see, she's got cancer, and she needs this operation, and you would not believe how much it costs. I mean, we don't have that kind of money. So I joined up, you know, at least it's steady work and I'd been kind of hoping that the Army would pay for her surgery, seeing how she's my mom and all, but..."
"But they didn't," Cody finished softly. "How'd that get you up on this mountaintop, Paul?" He thought maybe he could hear the thump of rotors at the edge of hearing, but after a minute he realized it was his heart pounding in his ears. He rested a hand gently on Nick's ribs.
Paul's hands rested between his knees, gun dangling limply from one hand. Cody figured if he didn't get it off him soon, he'd blow his own kneecap off. Or lose it entirely and make good on his promise to kill Nick and him.
"So now I'm in the Army, see, and my mom still can't have her surgery, and--she's so sick, you know? Then Peterson comes to me, tells me I can make pretty good money if I just take these packages with me on the test flights I'm doing. How could I say no?" Paul spread his arms wide, and Cody resisted the urge to duck.
"I've been doing it maybe six months, and we nearly had enough, me and my mom, but...she's so sick!" Paul stifled a sob, biting his arm to fight it back. Cody gingerly reached out a hand, intending to rest it on Paul's arm, but the kid's expression turned dark, and he rested it on his own knee instead.
"I tried to get more flights, more runs--"
"You know what's in the package?"
"Yeah, it's drugs, but whatever, I gotta get my mom well."
Cody shook his head, but Paul continued.
"So finally, this other guy Peterson knows, he gave me like, four packages, told me I just had to do this one last run, and he'd pay the whole amount we need. How could I say no, Cody? She's my mom!" The tears he'd been holding onto broke free at last and he rocked on his hips, gun dangling from his hands. Cody reached for it but Paul rolled away, pushing himself to his feet, pointing the gun with shaking hands.
"Please," Paul begged. "I never meant for any of this to happen. Nick...and the chopper...right before we took off, I did the pre-flight check, and I saw this guy hanging around the helipad. I've seen him with Peterson before, and I thought he might have messed with the helicopter. We took off and like, right away I knew something was wrong. This was supposed to be my first flight being in the pilot's seat, and--and now look!" He gestured around the burnt clearing. "I killed Peterson and Nick's dying, and these three firefighters, they're dead too. How am I gonna get the money to my mom?"
Paul frantically looked around the clearing, raking one hand through his hair, chapped lips strained in a grimace. His broken arm lay useless in his lap. Cody watched the gun in his hand carefully, and realized it wasn't his heartbeat after all. He could hear a chopper.
He waited until Paul turned, then pounced, knocking the much younger man across the rocky clearing. Paul wailed and tried to push him off, but Cody had the advantage: surprise, strength, and focus. Paul brought the gun down, aiming it at Cody, but he grabbed Paul's hair and pulled his head sharply up, then back down against the stony ground. Paul winced, but kept coming, so Cody hit him. Hard. Paul's eyelids fluttered, then with a soft sigh, he passed out cold.
Cody panted with relief, scanning the skies for the helicopter he'd heard. The mountains around him looked as empty and forbidding as they had done the previous afternoon, harsh and burnt. But with one crucial difference: he'd found Nick. That alone made the whole afternoon easier to take.
Finally he spotted it. A tiny gray speck coming in from the north, growing larger by the second. Cody whooped, waving his arms above his head. He rushed back to Nick's side, sinking to his knees. Nick's eyes opened, and Cody suspected it was the familiar sound of rotor blades that had woken him. "Cody...are they okay? Tell me," he croaked through chapped lips. "I gotta know!"
Cody held Nick's hand in his own. "It's gonna be alright, buddy. I promise."
The rescue chopper hovered above them, spilling a rope ladder down to the clearing. Cody covered Nick's body with his own as the rotors kicked up a maelstrom of ashes and burnt twigs. He looked in Nick's eyes and didn't know what else to say.
VI.
The first night Nick was home, he cried until he threw up. Cody pulled him, weak and unresisting, into his arms and tried to soothe him. But he was beyond soothing. Cody knew he cried only partially for the Pinnacles crash, but since he'd never cried for the Dong Nai one before, Cody let him go, let him get it all out, and just tried to pick up the pieces as best Nick would let him.
That night, and the ones that followed, they slept in separate bunks.
Each night they lay down curled up together, and each night without fail, once Nick thought he was asleep, Cody felt him slide out of bed and move to the other side of the room.
And each time it was like a fresh knife in his heart.
Cody could hear Nick crying quietly in the other bunk, trying not to wake him, and eventually Cody cried too, silently, his head and hands pressed against the wall. He was losing some fight he hadn't even known they were in.
On the fourth night, it all became too much, and after Cody heard Nick's sobs subside, his breathing turned regular, he went topside, where he always went when his world turned upside down: to stare at the ocean. Cody sank onto the worn pillows of the stern bench and scanned the darkened waterfront.
King Harbor had closed down for the night, storefronts shuttered, the promenade deserted. The only lights still lit were the streetlamps, discrete circles of artificial orange light, illuminating the emptiness.
Cody put his head in his hands and wondered why the water wasn't making him feel any better. When Nick got like this, it scared him. It shook him to the core, that there were shadows looming over his best friend that he couldn't protect him from, shadows that took Nick to the darkest place he could imagine, the place where seemingly the only option was the one thing Cody feared the most. He'd seen Nick stare into that abyss a couple of times now, and each time Cody had held on as tight as he could, tighter than he'd thought possible, scared as hell it wouldn't be enough. And this time...this time Nick wouldn't even let him come near him.
He'd been in that hospital in King City only long enough for them to set his ankle and check him for internal injuries, bleeding, wounds invisible to the naked eye. As soon as all the tests had come back and Nick's condition had been upgraded to stable, he'd called Cody and had another in a long line of "Discharged AMA" comments appended to his chart. Cody was almost surprised he'd called at all: the tense, biting voice on the other end of the line had been no one he knew, certainly not the same voice that had been tenderly whispering his name for the past decade now.
Cody heard footsteps, soft and light, padding up towards the deck. He spun around, but Nick's name died on his lips. Murray stepped on deck in his pajamas, arms tight across his chest, glasses askew, hair like a hedgehog. Cody turned back to the water.
Easing onto the bench beside him, Murray asked, "Couldn't sleep, huh?"
Cody didn't respond.
"Me neither," Murray continued softly. "Cody, can I ask you something?" He took a deep breath, looking down at the deck. "Is Nick gonna be okay?"
Cody took his time answering. "I don't know, Boz. I'm scared I don't know what to do to help him."
Murray drew his knees up to his chest on the bench seat. "Is there anything I can do to help? Anything at all? You know all you have to do--either of you--is just ask."
"Yeah, I know Boz, I know. But..." In his mind, Cody saw the peak growing smaller and smaller as the rescue chopper rose into the clear California sky; saw the smoking metal and scattered body parts dwindle into obscurity, until the crash site itself was nothing more than a charred dot against the landscape. Overlaid with that vision were memories of the Dong Nai crash--platoon members, his friends, ripped open and strewn across the pampas, the rubbery squelch of an arm underfoot where he failed to watch where he was going. Nick's face, contorted with guilt, Nick fighting him to get away--
Cody came back to himself in a rush, pushing both crashes into the box.
He looked at Murray's worried expression and knew that no matter how much he wanted to ask for help, their friend had no frame of reference for what he'd seen, what they'd both seen. And done. And Cody doubted he even had the words to begin describing any of it.
Cody laid a hand on Murray's arm and squeezed. "Thanks, Boz." He turned his gaze back to the water, trying to lose himself in the night's waves.
Eventually, he heard Murray pad back downstairs. Cody watched the water until the darkness disappeared, and the harbor turned a weak gray with the coming of dawn.
VII.
During the daytime, the two of them prowled around the Riptide like caged animals, wary and trying to stay out of each other's way. Cody reached out to Nick a couple of times, but Nick's biting retreats forced him away. Even so, Cody couldn't bring himself to be too far away, he couldn't stop being afraid to let Nick out of his sight.
On the fifth day, the phone call came from Fort Ord: Captain Nick Ryder was ordered to appear before a military inquiry in the matter of the helicopter crash that claimed the lives of three firefighters and, secondarily, Corporal James Peterson.
Nick tucked his dress shirt into the dark green pants. "You're not going," he told Cody.
"What?"
"I'm going down for this alone. You stay here with the Colonel, keep your pension and your benefits, and stay the fuck out of this mess I've made."
"The hell I will," Cody growled. "We'll get through this together."
"No, Cody, we won't!" Nick turned on him. "We had it pretty good here for awhile, then...then I had to go and screw everything up. Don't throw it all away, man." He put his hand on Cody's shoulder, squeezing.
Cody knocked it off and stepped in close, kissing Nick, hard. Nick pushed him away and wiped his mouth. His eyes filled with tears. "Babe," he said pleadingly, holding his hands up in front of them, between them. "Babe, please don't make this any harder than it is."
"Nick, I love you," Cody answered. "Don't do this. We'll go together."
The two of them squared off, silent and angry. Then Nick grabbed his cap off the corner of the closet door and limped out of the room, levering himself from doorframe to stairs, staying off his bad foot.
Cody hung his head in frustration, and collapsed on Nick's bunk. Now there was nothing left to do but wait.
---
Nick's return didn't ease the tension any. He wouldn't talk about what had happened at the tribunal, or the crash, or eventually anything at all. He pushed Cody away at every turn, lying motionless on his bunk, arms crossed behind his head, ignoring all of Cody's entreaties, shrugging off the gentle touches. Cody remained stoic and resolved, despite how hard it hurt.
He'd caught Nick fingering the keys to the Ebbtide a couple of times with a contemplative look on his face, one that sent a chill up and down Cody's spine. It got so that Cody thought about taking all the razors out of the bathroom, and hiding all the knives from the kitchen; eventually he realized full well that it was useless; if Nick really reached that point, the only thing that would stop him would be lack of opportunity, not weapon. After all, he had his own mini-arsenal in the Mimi. For starters.
So Cody took to dogging his steps, silent and worried, tightening the distance between them. Nick had just started yelling about wanting to use the john without an audience when a familiar voice hailed them from topside.
The three of them reached the salon at the same time Pitbull did.
"At ease, men" Pitbull said, descending the stairs. "Allen, Bozinsky. I've come to speak with Captain Ryder. On deck." He looked at each of the three of them in turn, then gestured for Nick to precede him up the stairs. With a last look at Cody, Nick slowly limped out of the salon, refusing Pitbull's offered arm, propelling himself from one place to the next until finally hopping up the stairs in obvious distress.
With a cryptic look at Cody and Murray, Pitbull turned and followed Nick up to the deck. There was a click as he shut the door firmly behind them.
The entire time, Cody hadn't taken his eyes off Nick. After he and Pitbull were no longer visible, Cody sank onto the tweed bench and drew a ragged breath, hands clasped in front of him. Murray leaned against the wall, arms crossed. They waited in silence.
Cody wished this could be relief, an end to it one way or the other, but in the pit of his stomach, he knew what the truth was: he just wanted Nick back in his arms, safe and happy in this life they'd built together. He met Murray's eyes and knew that this was one thing their friend could and absolutely did understand.
After what felt like several lifetimes, door opened, and Nick swung himself slowly down the stairs. Cody rushed towards him, eager to help him the rest of the way into the room. For a wonder, Nick let him do just that, allowing Cody to practically carry him back to the salon bench. Nick's weight against his shoulder, one arm around his back, felt like heaven compared with the last few days.
"They cleared me," Nick said simply, dropping into the rattan chair. "Cleared of any wrongdoing. The mechanics found a flaw in the fuselage," he choked out. "Peterson never meant for Paul to go anywhere. We were never even supposed to get off the ground."
Cody and Murray shared simultaneous slow grins as the news sunk in.
"I'm also getting a commendation," Nick continued. "Their...panel of experts listened to the black box. See, I knew something was wrong with Paul, and when I asked him about it, I guess he was spooked, just needed someone to talk to. The box recorded the whole thing. Me and Paul, and what with me gyroing down--" his voice hitched.
"That's great, Nick," Murray said, rushing over and grabbing both his hands, "Really..."
"Boss?" Nick tried.
Murray looked at him kindly for a minute then leaned in and grabbed him, held him tight for a second then let him go with a wide smile. "Boss," he agreed. Murray looked at Cody.
"What's gonna happen to Paul?" Murray asked.
Nick shook his head. "Poor kid. He's gonna be doing some jailtime courtesy Uncle Sam, but... both Pitbull and I spoke up for him, despite everything. I just can't help thinking. I don't know if I wouldn't have done the same thing in his situation, you know? If my mom was sick, and that was the only option..." Nick shrugged. "I just don't know."
The three of them were silent for a few moments, absorbing the situation.
The silence was broken by a roar from on deck, followed by a wave of feminine voices and the unmistakable sound of a zodiac motor. Then another roar and a splash, followed by cheering.
The three of them cracked up.
"Sounds like Pitbull's making fast friends with the ladies of the Contessa," Cody commented.
"Yeah," Nick commented, grinning, "and I'm not sure who I'd put my money on if it came down to Mama Jo versus Pitbull."
He and Cody looked at each other, and said simultaneously: "Mama Jo."
Murray hooted with laughter. Then he looked from Nick to Cody and back again, and shoved his hands in the pockets of his jeans. "I think I should probably try to save General Pitbull from having to find that out the hard way." He looked at the two of them again and smiled shyly, then jogged up the stairs to the deck.
Cody watched him go, then turned back to Nick. There were no words adequate for having Nick step back from the abyss, just as there had been none to describe the forces that drove him there. He saw the smile in Nick's eye and felt his heart swell. "It's good to have you back, Nick."
"It's good to be back, man," Nick said in a daze, "You know, it still seems unreal. I can't believe Pitbull came all the way out here, just to tell me. Said he thought I deserved to hear it firsthand."
Cody looked down at the tabletop. "Nick, I...you had me worried there, buddy." He looked up at Nick, forcing the words out. "I thought this would be like that other time. I got scared you were gonna, you know." Cody spread his hands wide, eyes staring. "I didn't know what to do."
Nick was silent. He hobbled over to the shelf of model helicopters and idly spun the rotor of the toy Huey. "Dong Nai," he said finally.
Cody let his breath out in a great rush. "Yeah, Dong Nai. You scared the crap out of me then, too. It's the first thing I thought of when Pitbull called. Nick, I couldn't bear to lose you. You came so close last time, I..."
Nick continued to fiddle with the model. "Yeah, I did, didn't I. Jesus. Dong Nai. I can't believe we're even talking about this, Cody." He dropped his hands. "I never thought I'd even be able to think about it without screaming, or tearing my hair out, something."
Cody moved slowly to Nick's side, arms crossed against his chest. "Nick, it wasn't your fault, what happened over there," he said brokenly. "And I'm gonna keep telling you that over and over again, until it sinks in. Just like this time, this wasn't your fault either. Nick, you're a damn good pilot. One of the best. And given the amount of time you spend in the air, the odds are..." Cody looked at Nick.
"Yeah, I do okay, I guess." Nick shoved his fingers in the pockets of his jeans. "There's one difference this time, though." He looked up at Cody. "You. I didn't know, back then, that we could--that us together, was possible. Cody, I love you, man. I love you so much." Nick gripped his friend's arms, leaning in. "Listen to me, Cody, I would never do that to you. Never. Are you listening? Never. No matter how bad it got, no matter what I screwed up, ending it all? That's not an option. I won't do that to you. I won't--Cody, I can't do that to you, or to us."
Cody put his hands on Nick's arms, his breath rushing from him in a great gasp. "Nick, promise me. I know. I know, you don't like--"
Nick looked him in the eye. "I promise you, man. I promise. I'll never do that to you."
Cody's mouth turned up in the beginning of a smile. "Nick..."
"And another thing." Nick continued to hang onto Cody's arms. "I owe you an apology," he said brokenly. "I was an asshole about the whole tribunal thing. I should have let you come with me."
Cody remained silent.
"I should have let you in, you know. I should have come to you--babe," Nick said softly. "I don't want to keep screwing things up for us."
Cody seemed to look at him for the first time. He shook his head. "Nick, you haven't screwed up a damn thing." He grabbed his partner and held him tight in his arms, crushing Nick against his chest, one hand cradling the back of his head. "I love you, buddy," Cody said unevenly. "You don't owe me anything."
"Yeah, Cody, I do," Nick said into his partner's shoulder. "I owe you everything." He held onto Cody with a fierce strength, and the two of them stood locked in each other's arms.
---
"Mmm. Love you, Nick." Cody didn't think he'd ever grow tired of whispering those words against Nick's bare skin.
Nick was close to sleep. Cody could feel it in his slow deep breaths and the way his hands, tangled in Cody's blond hair, had gradually stopped playing and lay still. Hair-tangling was a good sign, Cody knew.
He lay on Nick's chest, spent and relieved and overwhelmed by how damn good it was to hold his partner again. He shifted his arms incrementally, cradling Nick's shoulder blades as he neared sleep. Nick stirred in response, softly kissing the top of Cody's head.
They'd lain down this afternoon after Murray and Pitbull took off for the nightlife of King Harbor. "Don't get too comfortable," Nick had told Cody, "in case we have to post bail."
Cody had responded with a slow half-smile. "Buddy, if those two get in trouble, they're gonna have to wait awhile for us to get them out of it."
He'd been unbuttoning Nick's shirt at the time with shaking fingers, needing to get to him, needing to hold and kiss and caress, to make up for the long nights they'd spent apart, separated by a wall from the past.
Nick had reciprocated with urgency but Cody took his time, gentle and exploring as if all of Nick, all of this, was new to him. When he'd finally entered his partner, Cody stopped for a moment, tight against Nick's hips, tenderly running his hands along his thighs. He took in the sight of Nick, his best friend, the guy he'd known and loved for too many years to count now, lying open and unguarded beneath him, need and trust naked on his face.
Then Cody had started to move.
He reveled in the sight of his love banishing all Nick's hurt and worry from the past few days, each stroke bridging the gap that had grown up between them. As the tempo increased, Cody dove onto Nick's chest, licking and nipping at him. A small whimper escaped his lips and Cody swallowed it greedily, losing control at last, unable to get enough of having Nick finally come home.
Rating: R
Summary: A helicopter crash during a California wildfire brings back uncomfortable memories for Cody, and sparks a desperate search.
IV.
The whole damn clearing was on fire.
The heat and the stench of spilled fuel was astounding. But the look in Nick's eyes hit him like a clenched fist.
One corner of Nick's mouth turned up in a smirk. "I'm just gonna check over there, okay Allen? I'll be right back."
Cody's heart dropped at the look in Nick's eyes. He'd seen that look. They both had, right before some poor guy lost it and stood up in an open field or threw himself on a grenade.
Or ate his service weapon.
No. Not Nick. Please god no.
Nick turned to go, his face smudged with grime and blood and sweat. He took two steps before Cody's hindbrain shot him in the ass. He grabbed Nick, hard from behind, getting his arms around that broad chest, reaching as far as he could around his partner and just hanging on for dear life.
Nick struggled, screaming obscenities Cody refused to hear; he used every last ounce of energy to keep Nick from going "over there", wherever there was, whatever he figured he could find in this stinking fucked-up jungle, whatever he'd been planning. It was like wrestling a rabid bear.
Cody's fatigues clung to him, soaked through with sweat and blood and god knew what else. The cut in his leg throbbed but still he held on. Every last thought went towards not letting Nick go.
Nick raged. He screamed, bellowing for what felt like an eternity, until finally his voice came out in a hollow squeak and he fell to his knees, Cody's arms still tight around him.
Cody woke with a start, conscious of three things: he'd fallen asleep sitting against one wall of the Visitor's Center, Murray's hand was on his arm, and Nick was nowhere to be found.
He blinked sleepily, pushing the horror, the memories, back into their box. "I said something?"
Murray's face was a picture of concern. "Well, you shouted something that sounded like 'don't die'. I think you were having a nightmare."
Cody laughed hollowly. "You could say that."
I've woken to another one, he thought. Dammit, I've gotta get back out there and find Nick.
His head in his hands, Cody allowed himself a moment to wonder what Nick was feeling; he prayed that whatever he felt it wasn't pain, and that somehow he knew Cody was coming for him, that all these unspoken prayers were singing across the ether to him, on the connection that was theirs and theirs alone.
A pair of regulation field boots appeared in front of him. Pitbull squatted until his face was nearly level with Cody's. "Allen, you need another rest period?"
Cody was instantly awake. "No sir. I'm ready to get back out on the trails. I'm assuming we're continuing to search through the night, sir?"
"We are, yes. Soldier, we've had some bad news."
Cody's heart dropped. Please, he thought. Just give me one more chance to find him.
"The fire's turned. There's been a blowup to the west, just past Divide Canyon. All rescuers with wildland fire experience are being sent to the frontline." He read something in Cody's expression and held his hands up in a placating gesture. "I've managed to convince the powers that be that there's still a chance this is a rescue mission. That's bought us a few hours, but not many. You've all gotta get back out there at first light. That includes you, Colonel."
Cody pushed himself roughly to his feet, using the wall for support. Murray rose next to him.
"I've been able to keep you two and Pederson. Everyone else has been pulled off for the fireline. We've got a fresh team of SAR volunteers supposedly coming up from San Diego in the morning, but this fire's got everyone's panties in a right twist."
The three of them were silent, absorbing the implications of this news. The thready whine of the window air conditioner was barely audible over the sounds of night insects. Cody looked around. The Visitor's Center had emptied while he'd slept. Now it was just the three of them.
And Nick, he silently amended. Peterson was nowhere in sight.
Pitbull put both hands on Cody's shoulders. "Son, it's up to you." He looked at Murray. "And you of course, Colonel."
Murray rocked back and forth on his feet but kept silent.
Pitbull turned away. "Here's the new plan. Peterson's a damn good climber, the best we've got. If you can keep up with him, I'm going to send you up Overlook Peak. That should give you the best viewpoint for the south and west. If that doesn't work, we'll get you back, then send you up Mt. Resurrection in the east, then Hawkins Peak, and Scout Peak, if necessary. It's a helluva lot of hiking and climbing for one day, so let's hope we get lucky early. If the weather clears, we'll try to get an aerial survey in at dawn, see if we can spot any wreckage, anything that could possibly narrow the search area. But that's gonna depend on you, Cody. How's your climbing?"
Cody looked at him levelly. "Wherever Peterson goes, I can follow, no matter what. I will get up any mountainside, as long as it brings us closer to the chopper."
Pitbull slapped his cheek paternally. "You're a good man, Allen. I knew I could count on you."
Murray cleared his throat. "How's the weather for that survey, General?"
"Well, it's still sulking like a fat girl on prom night, but now's just a matter of time." Pitbull looked at his watch. "It's 0430 right now; Allen, if you can manage it at all, you and Peterson should be up and out of here by 0500. From everything those pussy rangers have told me, those boars are fat, lazy creatures and they like their beauty sleep. They'll be heading home right about now."
Cody nodded just as Peterson emerged from the bathroom. Amazingly, he looked as focused and energetic as the first time he and Cody had left the Visitor's Center twelve hours before. Pitbull clapped an iron hand on Cody's shoulder. "Allen, you listen to me. You go out there, and you find our men, you got that."
Cody nodded, unable to break free of the general's steely gaze.
He continued. "You do whatever you have to do to get this mission done. No matter what. Am I clear?"
Cody found his voice. "You can count on me, Pi--General. I'm gonna find them. I won't let you down. I won't let them down. I won't."
"I know you won't, Cody." Pitbull's voice was kind, and he and Cody stared at each other for another few seconds until the general appeared to pull himself together. He gave his lieutenant a few sharp slaps on the cheek. "You've got your orders, son."
Peterson pushed his way out through the restroom's swinging door and bounced over. "What'd I miss?"
---
"I don't like this, Allen, I don't like it one fucking bit." The two of them stood in the pearl-like dawn light of the parking lot, checking gear for the climb. As he spoke, Peterson coiled a brightly colored rope over his shoulders. "I don't know you from the Son of Sam and you're my belayer? You? Between me and certain death." Peterson shook his head. "If it wasn't so important to get them back, I'd tell you to go fuck yourself, that's for damn sure."
Cody stepped quickly into the younger man's space. He took a deep breath. "Let's get one thing straight, Peterson. You and I are here for the same reason: finding that chopper as fast as possible. Now, I'll do anything to make that happen, including being the best damn belayer you've ever had, okay? So just relax, and trust me. We're gonna get up every peak we need to in order to find them. Nothing else matters, okay?"
The two of them squared off for a moment, an array of brightly colored metal objects at their feet. They'd both been up most of the night. Every time Cody opened his eyes--and before his nightmare, sleep had been in short supply--he saw Peterson sitting on the other side of the lodge, seemingly staring off into space, eyes wide open. Looking at him now, in the ultrarealistic dawn light, Cody wondered why this recovery effort was so important to him. Eventually he stepped back, giving Peterson his space. "C'mon. The sooner we finish packing, the sooner we can hit the trail." He managed a smile.
Peterson managed something nearly similar, warily, then returned his attention to the gear. "Let me rack up, Allen. Unless you've done some big walls you're not telling me about, I'm in charge of this part of the operation. I'm not planning on getting killed before I get back--before we get everyone home safe.
Cody made his features soft and accommodating, and hoped they were convincing. "Anything you say, I'm happy to follow. Let's just get them back safe." Pitbull, I hope you know what you're doing, because there's something off about this guy.
With an ease borne of long practice, Peterson sank to his knees on the asphalt and counted out various sized nuts and cams, stoppers and quickdraws, carabiners and slings, dividing them neatly into two piles. Despite his distrust of the young soldier, Cody realized that if anyone could get him to the top of a cliff, it would be Peterson. He squatted next to him and started to ask about the cams they'd be taking, but one look from Peterson convinced him otherwise. Rising, Cody went over to their packs and doublechecked their supplies for the day.
Given the urgent nature of the assignment and the time constraints, they'd be taking one small haul bag between them, with enough water for the two of them, Army rations, Boz's receiver, and basic emergency supplies, hopefully enough for the two of them to do basic triage on any injuries they found.
Unbidden, an image sliced into Cody's mind like a hot knife: he knelt in sweaty pampas grass next to a young soldier, blond and pug-nosed like Peterson. He could still feel the soldier's--Murphy, that was it, Carl Murphy's--hand in his own. He'd gripped Murphy's hand as hard as he could, babbling, speaking whatever words found their way into his mouth as Murphy lay dying half a world away from Scranton, Pennsylvania. He'd been severed just below the hips by a shard of rotor blade. As Cody bent double in the cool California dawn, he saw the last of Carl Murphy's life leach away, the grass beneath his corpse red and wet, the stickiness of blood-soaked jungle nearly indistinguishable from the hot fetid air. When it was all over, he'd gone and put his arms around Nick, who sat cradling one of Murphy's legs in his arms, rocking and keening like a wild animal. It had take him twenty minutes to get Nick to let go.
Cody spat, pale froth on dark tarmac, an incantation against the horrors that were fighting their way out of the carefully sealed box. Carl Murphy. He hadn't thought of him in years. Hadn't seen the guy's freckled puppy face, the geysers of blood where his thighs should have been. Cody shook his head and fought his way upright, making his way back to Peterson and the present day, the pale sunlight starting to lighten the hills around them.
Nick, you're not Carl Murphy, and what happened that day wasn't your fault. And whatever's happened out here, we're gonna get through it just like we did Dong Nai, buddy.
Together.
Wordlessly, Peterson handed Cody a full rack of shiny gear which jingled faintly as he pulled the harness snug around his slender waist. Neither of them spoke as they headed for the trailhead.
---
Four hours in, Cody's shoulders felt like a fire had started deep inside his collarbone, spreading outwards, through his chest and down his arms. He hadn't been climbing in at least a decade, and despite a strict regimen of beach volleyball and beer, he'd forgotten how tough it was. But he refused to show any weakness.
They'd taken the Condor Gulch trail this morning, the fastest route to Overlook Peak. The whole way there, neither of them spoke, both of them hustling down the trail as fast as they were able, staring warily for any sign of the crash, moving with quick determination as the mountains came alive around them.
Peterson was just as good a climber as Pitbull had promised. He'd gotten them up the first half of Overlook in what felt to Cody like record time, making the tiniest of cracks and divots a safe and welcome home for the cams and stoppers they carried. Each one Cody tested as he came to it, and each one he found firm, stable, anchored. What was the term? Oh yeah: 'bombproof'. Cody allowed himself a smirk at the irony.
"Slack! Come on, Allen, play it out. I ain't got all day!"
Cody hurriedly slid the rope out through his hands, giving Peterson enough to clip in to the newest piece of protection. He squinted up the cliff, his viewpoint revealing only a dark silhouette above him.
The day had rapidly come on hot and hazy, and Cody's fatigues were already soaked through. They were still a good thousand feet from the top of the cliff, but Peterson's energy showed no sign of flagging. He continued to climb quick and precise, complaining good-naturedly when Cody took longer to cover the same distance on the line he set up for each segment. Each time the complaints took a mean turn, Cody redoubled his efforts, imagining Nick at the top, waiting for him, calling him onwards. Needing him.
He heard the telltale clink of a quickdraw above, and watched as Peterson continued to scrabble up the mountainside. A wave of fatigue overcame his adrenaline and fear. "Hey! Peterson! Peterson! Wait!"
His climbing partner stopped, balanced on a slender ledge. "What?"
"Water break!" Cody secured the line at his hip and waited for Peterson to acknowledge, which he did with a disgusted shake of his head. He mumbled something too soft for Cody to hear, but Cody decided he didn't care as Peterson lay back on the line, signalling assent. With a shake of his own head, he pulled his canteen forward and took a long satisfying swallow. California hadn't invented a heat that could beat Vietnam, but today it seemed to be doing its level best to draw even. He took another swallow of lukewarm water.
"Let's go! Come on!"
Cody looked up and gritted his teeth. As far as he could tell, Peterson hadn't even touched his water. Whatever superhuman health regimen this guy is on, I want some. Badly. Cody stashed his canteen. "Okay. Climb on!"
"Climbing! Jesus!"
The two of them continued to pull towards the top of the mountain. Cody redoubled his efforts to keep up. To pass the time, he thought about Nick.
He thought about the way Nick looked when he first woke up, satisfied and protective. Cody couldn't count the times he'd been woken by Nick slipping a gentle arm around his chest, or by soft whispers, telling him how safe he was, how wanted. He thought about how Nick looked when he was well and truly about to lose his rag at Cody, lips pursed, eyes bulging. How he looked sitting on the Riptide's deck, nursing beers with him and Murray, relaxed and unafraid, proud as hell of this life they'd made together.
He pictured Nick when he came, pleasurable agony in his expression, just before he buried himself against Cody's chest, burrowing closer, helpless with desire. That was the way Cody liked to think of him best.
He relaxed and let himself fall into the rhythm of the climb, muscles aching and sharp, but knowing that every move brought him closer to Nick, one way or another. Three-quarters of the way up, and Cody felt like he'd been climbing with Peterson his whole damn life; this rock was theirs for the taking.
Then suddenly the nightmare returned. He saw vines, sky, blood, fire, dirt, glass--
Peterson's whoop brought him back to reality.
"What? What is it?" Cody craned his neck upwards.
"I found 'em!" Peterson let out a long low laugh. "Sweet mother of God, I fucking found 'em! They're all up here!"
Cody let out a whoop of his own, every nerve in his body singing, all thoughts of pain and fatigue forgotten. "Great job! Tie off, and I'll be right there!" He saw Peterson's silhouette thirty feet ahead of him against the orange clouds.
Peterson clawed his way over the edge, feet disappearing. Cody felt a sharp jerk on the rope, and gave slack so that Peterson could set their anchor.
"Hey Allen!"
Cody looked up. "Yeah?"
"Been nice knowin' ya!" Then as Cody watched in horror, Peterson tossed the severed end of the rope overhand, out into the smoky morning.
V.
Cody searched the rockface around him frantically, time slowing to a halt as the cut rope sang through the air. He spied a deep pocket above him to the left and, with a grunt, he lunged for it. It was barely within his reach, but he caught it with one hand. Scrabbling for purchase with his feet, he managed to get the other hand next to it, wrapping both sets of fingers around the lip of rock just as the rope reached its full potential below him.
The impact knocked his feet out from under him.
With a savage cry he fell against the rock but held fast. The weight of the rope, hanging fully off him alone, began to pry his fingers loose. He looked down at the cliff-face below, then at the lip of rock only thirty feet above him. Nick.
He dug his feet in, scrambling to place them with enough force. Then carefully, not daring to breathe, he freed his right hand, lowering it to his harness. He tugged at the knot. The strands held fast and he nearly sobbed in frustration. Repositioning his feet, he took a deep breath and worked at the taut strands. One arm of it nearly loosened, just as Cody's own arm began a deep slow throb. He focused on the knot, slow and patient.
From above he heard a sharp cry, followed by coarse laughter, and words too faint for him to make out. With a snarl he attacked the strands of rope, digging ruthlessly with his fingers as his shoulder began to scream. He dimly felt a fingernail rip but paid it no mind as the knot loosened, one strand after the other, then finally fell away entirely, dropping below him quick as a whip.
He was alone on the rock.
The voices continued above him; maddeningly, intonation was the only thing he could make out from so far away. That and the tang of fear, like ozone around him, sharp and unwelcome but deeply familiar.
Without Nick by his side, that feeling sharpened his focus. The crevices in the rock stood out in sharp relief around him--handholds, footholds, pockets, ledges. He saw the way to the top as if it was outlined in gold. And so, unheedful of the danger he faced, left with no protection or gear, Cody began to climb.
The primal part of his brain took over, establishing a rhythm: left foot, right hand. Right foot, left hand. Left foot, right hand. Right foot, left hand.
Until impossibly, he reached the lip of the peak, and pulled himself to safety, gasping and heaving with exertion.
Peterson was right. They'd found the crash site.
The top of Overlook Peak had been flattened by some long-forgotten geologic event, but the more recent injury by helicopter had left the clearing scarred and furrowed, covered in metal and broken glass.
And bodies.
Over to his right, Cody made out a shape under a piece of the fuselage, only the feet visible. The feet were facedown. "No...." Cody whimpered. He scanned the rest of the area. The main body of the chopper had come to rest in most of one piece, on its back, footbars in the air. Against it leaned a dark-haired, pale form, his shirt covered in blood, one arm trussed up in a makeshift sling. He looked wan and exhausted, wracked with pain.
And he was not Nick.
Cody crawled across the clearing, finding his feet, snarling. "Nick! Nick talk to me! Come on!"
Peterson, kneeling at the far side of the clearing, looked up sharply. "You goddamned sonofabitch, Allen. I'll give you this much, you've got a pair on you like one of those goddamned boars!"
Cody glared.
There was a groan from the far left edge of the clearing. A huge piece of metal lay propped up by a smaller chunk of what Cody assumed had been part of the engine. There was maybe two feet of clearance beneath it. He hurried over, sinking to his knees. "Nick," he whispered. "Please, buddy, please." He ducked his head under the improbable metal shield.
Nick's eyes fluttered open. He started to say something, and Cody bent close, crawling most of the way under the metal to hear him.
It saved his life. A shot glanced off the metal and Cody instinctively laid his body on top of his friend's. Pulling his feet in after him, Cody curled up on the ground next to Nick and scrabbled in his pack for the knife he remembered packing that morning. Running across Murray's locator instead, he pushed the button for all he was worth, sending out a silent plea with the signal.
He looked at Nick, the flood of relief he felt at finding him alive tempered by his fear at how still his partner looked, his breathing shallow and color bad. Still, Cody's heart soared at how not-dead he was.
He was still searching for the knife when Peterson's boots appeared in front of him. He looked at Nick, pale and still but miraculously, gorgeously alive and found. He began to crawl out from under the carapace, hands raised. "Don't shoot. Don't shoot, Peterson, whatever's going on here, I'm sure we can work it out." Right after I rip you in two.
Peterson sneered. All pretense at civility had dropped away, and the resulting beast who stood in front of Cody was no longer rational. "What is it you're planning on working out, Allen? You have nothing I want. Now these guys, these guys are a different story. They've got something I was specifically sent here to retrieve. They've got a chance. You? You're a vet who's past his sell-by date. Washed up. Worthless."
Out of the corner of his eye, Cody noticed the pale, dark-haired, broken-armed kid behind Peterson push himself to his feet. He trained his eyes on Peterson and hoped he hadn't noticed the errant glance. But Peterson was too far gone to notice anything.
Cody finally put all the pieces together: the unnatural strength and speed, without eating or drinking, for hours on end. Peterson was a speed freak. Cody hoped that was all he was on. Behind him, the dark-haired man staggered forwards, nearly silent across the charred grass and rocks. Cody kept his eyes focused on Peterson.
"You know, Allen, this is what happens when they send a boy to do a man's job. That waste of space behind me? That was my protege. Yeah, I thought that kid was going places. Best goddamned drug mule I've ever had: bright, motivated...reckless." Peterson spat. "Problem is, the little guy got a little too reckless, running my product on flights I hadn't assigned him, trying to contact my boss, trying to get more shipments, trying to cut me out of it." Peterson's eyes were bright with the light of the truly, deeply unhinged. "I bet if you think real hard, old man, you can figure out how that made me feel."
"I suspect it made you feel reckless yourself." The kid had produced a gun and, as Peterson whirled in surprise, shot him point blank. Peterson slumped to the earth, an expression of abject surprise on his face. It remained there as he fell facefirst and became motionless.
"And now I suspect it makes you feel dead," the gunman concluded sadly.
Cody stared. He and Nick had somehow wandered into the middle of the OK Corral. He looked at the kid in front of him, pale and in obvious agony. He searched for words, but none came.
"It's okay," the kid said, gingerly lowering himself back down to the scorched earth. "I get it, I really do." He looked eons older than he had two minutes ago. "I'm guessing you're here for my co-pilot." He gestured with the gun to where Nick lay, under the metal shelter. Cody forbade himself to turn and look while the kid still had the gun in his hand. He went on. "You must be Cody." He squinted. "Nick didn't stop talking about you the whole week. Cody this, Cody that. He swore to me you'd come for us. I'm Paul, by the way. Wish we could have met under better circumstances, but sometimes life just sucks a big one, you know that?"
Cody found his voice. "Yeah Paul, sometimes it does. Listen, I'm gonna go check on Nick. He's hurt, and he needs help. I just wanna see how bad it is, okay?"
Paul waved the gun generally. "Be my guest. Get it out while you can. I'm gonna have to kill both of you anyway, so feel free to take a moment to do what you've gotta do."
Cody froze, torn between Nick and the gunman.
Nick won out. He always did. Scurrying back under the metal, Cody gently surveyed his partner. Nick opened his eyes again. They were bloodshot, unfocused. "Cody," he whispered. "It's Paul. He---" Nick broke off in a fit of coughing and Cody gently rolled him onto his side, one hand behind his neck. He hoped like hell nothing was broken where he touched.
"Cody..." Nick resettled with obvious difficulty, and as he tried to bend his left leg, an expression of agony crossed his face. Cody looked down. Nick's ankle was broken, that much he could tell just by looking. He ran his hands gently over the rest of Nick's body, long-dormant basic medical training coming to the fore, courtesy Uncle Sam. There were an assortment of cuts--two fairly deep--and bruises, but the ankle looked the most worrisome. Unless there were things he was missing.
Cody dug in his pack for some water, and Paul became alarmed, raising the gun, clicking off the safety. "Hey now, hey now! Come on, don't be stupid."
Cody stopped. "But you're going to kill us both anyway, right?"
Paul thought about this for a second.
"So before you do, could I get Nick some water? He's been out here a pretty long time. So have you, as a matter of fact," Cody went back to his pack, trusting Paul to listen to his voice.
"I'm so thirsty," Paul said sadly. "Do you know how hot it's been up here?"
"I can guess," Cody answered. "It's been hot down there, too, looking for you." He gave a nod in the direction of the cliff-face. "Lemme see what I've got." He felt hard plastic at his fingertips, and pulled out a canteen, extending it to the dark-haired kid. "Here," he said, "you need this."
Paul approached with cautious steps, gun still in hand. He sank gratefully in front of Nick and Cody's shelter, falling on his ass in the process. Cody made sure Paul's fingers were firmly around the canteen before he let go. The kid laid the gun in his lap in order to unscrew the canteen top, but Cody couldn't make himself make a move for it. His fingers brushed the full one still in the pack. He pulled it out and, as Paul looked on, got Nick to drink a little of it, mainly by dint of pouring it directly in his mouth as he cradled Nick's head. After he was satisfied Nick had swallowed at least a few sips, he hazarded a glance back at the gunman, and found him staring back, an unfamiliar expression on his face. Cody looked back at Nick, then at Paul. Envy, he realized. The kid with the gun's envious. But of what? He's got all the cards right now.
Paul caught his gaze and hastily got the gun back in hand. He took another long drink from the canteen, his eyes steady now on Cody.
"Don't drink all that at once," he warned Paul. "You're probably dehydrated, your body needs time to process, to adjust to the water."
Paul stared at the canteen in his hand, then looked up. "You sound like you've done this before, Cody."
Cody sat under the metal shell next to Nick, feeling his partner's shallow breaths against his hip. Please, he thought, please let the transmitter have worked. I could really use some reinforcements right now. He looked up at the sky. It wasn't quite blue, but the haze had disappeared, leaving a solid pale grey in its place. He looked back at Nick, watching his eyes flutter, hoping he would be okay, knowing he was miles away regardless. Nick muttered something, frowning, and Cody pushed himself up onto his knees, straining to hear. Paul made no move to interfere.
"What's wrong, buddy?"
"Cody...they're all...Dennison and Murphy...I killed them...Cody...it's all my...."
Cody soothed Nick as best as he was able, smoothing his hair back from his forehead, murmuring reassurances. Nick was not just miles away, but years too. "Nick...it's gonna be okay." The words felt useless in his mouth, and he wished he could find others that would bring Nick back. Better yet, he wished he could get Nick off this godforsaken hilltop. Paul watched him. Cody had nearly forgotten he was still there. Him and his gun.
He sat back on the stony ground, feeling dry grass crackle beneath him as he moved. "Paul, tell me what happened, here." He brushed the dirt and grass off his hands. "Why'd you guys go down?"
Paul put his head in his hands, and the gun swung menacingly towards where Cody sat guarding Nick. Cody resisted the urge to flinch.
"It was awful, Cody, just..." Paul took his hands away from his eyes. "See, I've only just made corporal, and...look, Nick taught me pretty much everything I know about being a pilot, and I---see my mom, she's sick and--" Paul broke off, grimacing into the far distance over Cody's right shoulder.
Cody's heart ached for the kid. He was maybe twenty, right about the same age he and Nick had been when they went to Vietnam, and he remembered how every crisis had loomed so large, looked so insurmountable. He held his hands up placatingly. "Paul...it's okay, just tell me what brought your chopper down."
Paul nodded manically, scrubbing at his eyes with the hand holding the gun and Cody took a controlled breath. Whatever trouble this kid was in, he was in it up to his eyeballs. "Look, Cody, my mom, see, she's got cancer, and she needs this operation, and you would not believe how much it costs. I mean, we don't have that kind of money. So I joined up, you know, at least it's steady work and I'd been kind of hoping that the Army would pay for her surgery, seeing how she's my mom and all, but..."
"But they didn't," Cody finished softly. "How'd that get you up on this mountaintop, Paul?" He thought maybe he could hear the thump of rotors at the edge of hearing, but after a minute he realized it was his heart pounding in his ears. He rested a hand gently on Nick's ribs.
Paul's hands rested between his knees, gun dangling limply from one hand. Cody figured if he didn't get it off him soon, he'd blow his own kneecap off. Or lose it entirely and make good on his promise to kill Nick and him.
"So now I'm in the Army, see, and my mom still can't have her surgery, and--she's so sick, you know? Then Peterson comes to me, tells me I can make pretty good money if I just take these packages with me on the test flights I'm doing. How could I say no?" Paul spread his arms wide, and Cody resisted the urge to duck.
"I've been doing it maybe six months, and we nearly had enough, me and my mom, but...she's so sick!" Paul stifled a sob, biting his arm to fight it back. Cody gingerly reached out a hand, intending to rest it on Paul's arm, but the kid's expression turned dark, and he rested it on his own knee instead.
"I tried to get more flights, more runs--"
"You know what's in the package?"
"Yeah, it's drugs, but whatever, I gotta get my mom well."
Cody shook his head, but Paul continued.
"So finally, this other guy Peterson knows, he gave me like, four packages, told me I just had to do this one last run, and he'd pay the whole amount we need. How could I say no, Cody? She's my mom!" The tears he'd been holding onto broke free at last and he rocked on his hips, gun dangling from his hands. Cody reached for it but Paul rolled away, pushing himself to his feet, pointing the gun with shaking hands.
"Please," Paul begged. "I never meant for any of this to happen. Nick...and the chopper...right before we took off, I did the pre-flight check, and I saw this guy hanging around the helipad. I've seen him with Peterson before, and I thought he might have messed with the helicopter. We took off and like, right away I knew something was wrong. This was supposed to be my first flight being in the pilot's seat, and--and now look!" He gestured around the burnt clearing. "I killed Peterson and Nick's dying, and these three firefighters, they're dead too. How am I gonna get the money to my mom?"
Paul frantically looked around the clearing, raking one hand through his hair, chapped lips strained in a grimace. His broken arm lay useless in his lap. Cody watched the gun in his hand carefully, and realized it wasn't his heartbeat after all. He could hear a chopper.
He waited until Paul turned, then pounced, knocking the much younger man across the rocky clearing. Paul wailed and tried to push him off, but Cody had the advantage: surprise, strength, and focus. Paul brought the gun down, aiming it at Cody, but he grabbed Paul's hair and pulled his head sharply up, then back down against the stony ground. Paul winced, but kept coming, so Cody hit him. Hard. Paul's eyelids fluttered, then with a soft sigh, he passed out cold.
Cody panted with relief, scanning the skies for the helicopter he'd heard. The mountains around him looked as empty and forbidding as they had done the previous afternoon, harsh and burnt. But with one crucial difference: he'd found Nick. That alone made the whole afternoon easier to take.
Finally he spotted it. A tiny gray speck coming in from the north, growing larger by the second. Cody whooped, waving his arms above his head. He rushed back to Nick's side, sinking to his knees. Nick's eyes opened, and Cody suspected it was the familiar sound of rotor blades that had woken him. "Cody...are they okay? Tell me," he croaked through chapped lips. "I gotta know!"
Cody held Nick's hand in his own. "It's gonna be alright, buddy. I promise."
The rescue chopper hovered above them, spilling a rope ladder down to the clearing. Cody covered Nick's body with his own as the rotors kicked up a maelstrom of ashes and burnt twigs. He looked in Nick's eyes and didn't know what else to say.
VI.
The first night Nick was home, he cried until he threw up. Cody pulled him, weak and unresisting, into his arms and tried to soothe him. But he was beyond soothing. Cody knew he cried only partially for the Pinnacles crash, but since he'd never cried for the Dong Nai one before, Cody let him go, let him get it all out, and just tried to pick up the pieces as best Nick would let him.
That night, and the ones that followed, they slept in separate bunks.
Each night they lay down curled up together, and each night without fail, once Nick thought he was asleep, Cody felt him slide out of bed and move to the other side of the room.
And each time it was like a fresh knife in his heart.
Cody could hear Nick crying quietly in the other bunk, trying not to wake him, and eventually Cody cried too, silently, his head and hands pressed against the wall. He was losing some fight he hadn't even known they were in.
On the fourth night, it all became too much, and after Cody heard Nick's sobs subside, his breathing turned regular, he went topside, where he always went when his world turned upside down: to stare at the ocean. Cody sank onto the worn pillows of the stern bench and scanned the darkened waterfront.
King Harbor had closed down for the night, storefronts shuttered, the promenade deserted. The only lights still lit were the streetlamps, discrete circles of artificial orange light, illuminating the emptiness.
Cody put his head in his hands and wondered why the water wasn't making him feel any better. When Nick got like this, it scared him. It shook him to the core, that there were shadows looming over his best friend that he couldn't protect him from, shadows that took Nick to the darkest place he could imagine, the place where seemingly the only option was the one thing Cody feared the most. He'd seen Nick stare into that abyss a couple of times now, and each time Cody had held on as tight as he could, tighter than he'd thought possible, scared as hell it wouldn't be enough. And this time...this time Nick wouldn't even let him come near him.
He'd been in that hospital in King City only long enough for them to set his ankle and check him for internal injuries, bleeding, wounds invisible to the naked eye. As soon as all the tests had come back and Nick's condition had been upgraded to stable, he'd called Cody and had another in a long line of "Discharged AMA" comments appended to his chart. Cody was almost surprised he'd called at all: the tense, biting voice on the other end of the line had been no one he knew, certainly not the same voice that had been tenderly whispering his name for the past decade now.
Cody heard footsteps, soft and light, padding up towards the deck. He spun around, but Nick's name died on his lips. Murray stepped on deck in his pajamas, arms tight across his chest, glasses askew, hair like a hedgehog. Cody turned back to the water.
Easing onto the bench beside him, Murray asked, "Couldn't sleep, huh?"
Cody didn't respond.
"Me neither," Murray continued softly. "Cody, can I ask you something?" He took a deep breath, looking down at the deck. "Is Nick gonna be okay?"
Cody took his time answering. "I don't know, Boz. I'm scared I don't know what to do to help him."
Murray drew his knees up to his chest on the bench seat. "Is there anything I can do to help? Anything at all? You know all you have to do--either of you--is just ask."
"Yeah, I know Boz, I know. But..." In his mind, Cody saw the peak growing smaller and smaller as the rescue chopper rose into the clear California sky; saw the smoking metal and scattered body parts dwindle into obscurity, until the crash site itself was nothing more than a charred dot against the landscape. Overlaid with that vision were memories of the Dong Nai crash--platoon members, his friends, ripped open and strewn across the pampas, the rubbery squelch of an arm underfoot where he failed to watch where he was going. Nick's face, contorted with guilt, Nick fighting him to get away--
Cody came back to himself in a rush, pushing both crashes into the box.
He looked at Murray's worried expression and knew that no matter how much he wanted to ask for help, their friend had no frame of reference for what he'd seen, what they'd both seen. And done. And Cody doubted he even had the words to begin describing any of it.
Cody laid a hand on Murray's arm and squeezed. "Thanks, Boz." He turned his gaze back to the water, trying to lose himself in the night's waves.
Eventually, he heard Murray pad back downstairs. Cody watched the water until the darkness disappeared, and the harbor turned a weak gray with the coming of dawn.
VII.
During the daytime, the two of them prowled around the Riptide like caged animals, wary and trying to stay out of each other's way. Cody reached out to Nick a couple of times, but Nick's biting retreats forced him away. Even so, Cody couldn't bring himself to be too far away, he couldn't stop being afraid to let Nick out of his sight.
On the fifth day, the phone call came from Fort Ord: Captain Nick Ryder was ordered to appear before a military inquiry in the matter of the helicopter crash that claimed the lives of three firefighters and, secondarily, Corporal James Peterson.
Nick tucked his dress shirt into the dark green pants. "You're not going," he told Cody.
"What?"
"I'm going down for this alone. You stay here with the Colonel, keep your pension and your benefits, and stay the fuck out of this mess I've made."
"The hell I will," Cody growled. "We'll get through this together."
"No, Cody, we won't!" Nick turned on him. "We had it pretty good here for awhile, then...then I had to go and screw everything up. Don't throw it all away, man." He put his hand on Cody's shoulder, squeezing.
Cody knocked it off and stepped in close, kissing Nick, hard. Nick pushed him away and wiped his mouth. His eyes filled with tears. "Babe," he said pleadingly, holding his hands up in front of them, between them. "Babe, please don't make this any harder than it is."
"Nick, I love you," Cody answered. "Don't do this. We'll go together."
The two of them squared off, silent and angry. Then Nick grabbed his cap off the corner of the closet door and limped out of the room, levering himself from doorframe to stairs, staying off his bad foot.
Cody hung his head in frustration, and collapsed on Nick's bunk. Now there was nothing left to do but wait.
---
Nick's return didn't ease the tension any. He wouldn't talk about what had happened at the tribunal, or the crash, or eventually anything at all. He pushed Cody away at every turn, lying motionless on his bunk, arms crossed behind his head, ignoring all of Cody's entreaties, shrugging off the gentle touches. Cody remained stoic and resolved, despite how hard it hurt.
He'd caught Nick fingering the keys to the Ebbtide a couple of times with a contemplative look on his face, one that sent a chill up and down Cody's spine. It got so that Cody thought about taking all the razors out of the bathroom, and hiding all the knives from the kitchen; eventually he realized full well that it was useless; if Nick really reached that point, the only thing that would stop him would be lack of opportunity, not weapon. After all, he had his own mini-arsenal in the Mimi. For starters.
So Cody took to dogging his steps, silent and worried, tightening the distance between them. Nick had just started yelling about wanting to use the john without an audience when a familiar voice hailed them from topside.
The three of them reached the salon at the same time Pitbull did.
"At ease, men" Pitbull said, descending the stairs. "Allen, Bozinsky. I've come to speak with Captain Ryder. On deck." He looked at each of the three of them in turn, then gestured for Nick to precede him up the stairs. With a last look at Cody, Nick slowly limped out of the salon, refusing Pitbull's offered arm, propelling himself from one place to the next until finally hopping up the stairs in obvious distress.
With a cryptic look at Cody and Murray, Pitbull turned and followed Nick up to the deck. There was a click as he shut the door firmly behind them.
The entire time, Cody hadn't taken his eyes off Nick. After he and Pitbull were no longer visible, Cody sank onto the tweed bench and drew a ragged breath, hands clasped in front of him. Murray leaned against the wall, arms crossed. They waited in silence.
Cody wished this could be relief, an end to it one way or the other, but in the pit of his stomach, he knew what the truth was: he just wanted Nick back in his arms, safe and happy in this life they'd built together. He met Murray's eyes and knew that this was one thing their friend could and absolutely did understand.
After what felt like several lifetimes, door opened, and Nick swung himself slowly down the stairs. Cody rushed towards him, eager to help him the rest of the way into the room. For a wonder, Nick let him do just that, allowing Cody to practically carry him back to the salon bench. Nick's weight against his shoulder, one arm around his back, felt like heaven compared with the last few days.
"They cleared me," Nick said simply, dropping into the rattan chair. "Cleared of any wrongdoing. The mechanics found a flaw in the fuselage," he choked out. "Peterson never meant for Paul to go anywhere. We were never even supposed to get off the ground."
Cody and Murray shared simultaneous slow grins as the news sunk in.
"I'm also getting a commendation," Nick continued. "Their...panel of experts listened to the black box. See, I knew something was wrong with Paul, and when I asked him about it, I guess he was spooked, just needed someone to talk to. The box recorded the whole thing. Me and Paul, and what with me gyroing down--" his voice hitched.
"That's great, Nick," Murray said, rushing over and grabbing both his hands, "Really..."
"Boss?" Nick tried.
Murray looked at him kindly for a minute then leaned in and grabbed him, held him tight for a second then let him go with a wide smile. "Boss," he agreed. Murray looked at Cody.
"What's gonna happen to Paul?" Murray asked.
Nick shook his head. "Poor kid. He's gonna be doing some jailtime courtesy Uncle Sam, but... both Pitbull and I spoke up for him, despite everything. I just can't help thinking. I don't know if I wouldn't have done the same thing in his situation, you know? If my mom was sick, and that was the only option..." Nick shrugged. "I just don't know."
The three of them were silent for a few moments, absorbing the situation.
The silence was broken by a roar from on deck, followed by a wave of feminine voices and the unmistakable sound of a zodiac motor. Then another roar and a splash, followed by cheering.
The three of them cracked up.
"Sounds like Pitbull's making fast friends with the ladies of the Contessa," Cody commented.
"Yeah," Nick commented, grinning, "and I'm not sure who I'd put my money on if it came down to Mama Jo versus Pitbull."
He and Cody looked at each other, and said simultaneously: "Mama Jo."
Murray hooted with laughter. Then he looked from Nick to Cody and back again, and shoved his hands in the pockets of his jeans. "I think I should probably try to save General Pitbull from having to find that out the hard way." He looked at the two of them again and smiled shyly, then jogged up the stairs to the deck.
Cody watched him go, then turned back to Nick. There were no words adequate for having Nick step back from the abyss, just as there had been none to describe the forces that drove him there. He saw the smile in Nick's eye and felt his heart swell. "It's good to have you back, Nick."
"It's good to be back, man," Nick said in a daze, "You know, it still seems unreal. I can't believe Pitbull came all the way out here, just to tell me. Said he thought I deserved to hear it firsthand."
Cody looked down at the tabletop. "Nick, I...you had me worried there, buddy." He looked up at Nick, forcing the words out. "I thought this would be like that other time. I got scared you were gonna, you know." Cody spread his hands wide, eyes staring. "I didn't know what to do."
Nick was silent. He hobbled over to the shelf of model helicopters and idly spun the rotor of the toy Huey. "Dong Nai," he said finally.
Cody let his breath out in a great rush. "Yeah, Dong Nai. You scared the crap out of me then, too. It's the first thing I thought of when Pitbull called. Nick, I couldn't bear to lose you. You came so close last time, I..."
Nick continued to fiddle with the model. "Yeah, I did, didn't I. Jesus. Dong Nai. I can't believe we're even talking about this, Cody." He dropped his hands. "I never thought I'd even be able to think about it without screaming, or tearing my hair out, something."
Cody moved slowly to Nick's side, arms crossed against his chest. "Nick, it wasn't your fault, what happened over there," he said brokenly. "And I'm gonna keep telling you that over and over again, until it sinks in. Just like this time, this wasn't your fault either. Nick, you're a damn good pilot. One of the best. And given the amount of time you spend in the air, the odds are..." Cody looked at Nick.
"Yeah, I do okay, I guess." Nick shoved his fingers in the pockets of his jeans. "There's one difference this time, though." He looked up at Cody. "You. I didn't know, back then, that we could--that us together, was possible. Cody, I love you, man. I love you so much." Nick gripped his friend's arms, leaning in. "Listen to me, Cody, I would never do that to you. Never. Are you listening? Never. No matter how bad it got, no matter what I screwed up, ending it all? That's not an option. I won't do that to you. I won't--Cody, I can't do that to you, or to us."
Cody put his hands on Nick's arms, his breath rushing from him in a great gasp. "Nick, promise me. I know. I know, you don't like--"
Nick looked him in the eye. "I promise you, man. I promise. I'll never do that to you."
Cody's mouth turned up in the beginning of a smile. "Nick..."
"And another thing." Nick continued to hang onto Cody's arms. "I owe you an apology," he said brokenly. "I was an asshole about the whole tribunal thing. I should have let you come with me."
Cody remained silent.
"I should have let you in, you know. I should have come to you--babe," Nick said softly. "I don't want to keep screwing things up for us."
Cody seemed to look at him for the first time. He shook his head. "Nick, you haven't screwed up a damn thing." He grabbed his partner and held him tight in his arms, crushing Nick against his chest, one hand cradling the back of his head. "I love you, buddy," Cody said unevenly. "You don't owe me anything."
"Yeah, Cody, I do," Nick said into his partner's shoulder. "I owe you everything." He held onto Cody with a fierce strength, and the two of them stood locked in each other's arms.
---
"Mmm. Love you, Nick." Cody didn't think he'd ever grow tired of whispering those words against Nick's bare skin.
Nick was close to sleep. Cody could feel it in his slow deep breaths and the way his hands, tangled in Cody's blond hair, had gradually stopped playing and lay still. Hair-tangling was a good sign, Cody knew.
He lay on Nick's chest, spent and relieved and overwhelmed by how damn good it was to hold his partner again. He shifted his arms incrementally, cradling Nick's shoulder blades as he neared sleep. Nick stirred in response, softly kissing the top of Cody's head.
They'd lain down this afternoon after Murray and Pitbull took off for the nightlife of King Harbor. "Don't get too comfortable," Nick had told Cody, "in case we have to post bail."
Cody had responded with a slow half-smile. "Buddy, if those two get in trouble, they're gonna have to wait awhile for us to get them out of it."
He'd been unbuttoning Nick's shirt at the time with shaking fingers, needing to get to him, needing to hold and kiss and caress, to make up for the long nights they'd spent apart, separated by a wall from the past.
Nick had reciprocated with urgency but Cody took his time, gentle and exploring as if all of Nick, all of this, was new to him. When he'd finally entered his partner, Cody stopped for a moment, tight against Nick's hips, tenderly running his hands along his thighs. He took in the sight of Nick, his best friend, the guy he'd known and loved for too many years to count now, lying open and unguarded beneath him, need and trust naked on his face.
Then Cody had started to move.
He reveled in the sight of his love banishing all Nick's hurt and worry from the past few days, each stroke bridging the gap that had grown up between them. As the tempo increased, Cody dove onto Nick's chest, licking and nipping at him. A small whimper escaped his lips and Cody swallowed it greedily, losing control at last, unable to get enough of having Nick finally come home.