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riptide_asylumTitle: Sighting at Phantoms
Rating: PG
Summary: Sometimes there's no escape except the arms of a good friend and the ocean.
It had been a bad day all round.
The owner of the prop plane Nick'd been working on for the past two weeks showed up out of the blue, pacing and shouting down the airstrip while Kimmie tried to explain that the parts hadn't arrived yet and Nick worked on not strangling the guy with his bare hands
And right in the middle of it all, when Nick and the weekend pilot were trading jabs about the other's ancestors, upbringing and nationality, Cody spotted VC out in the grass.
Nick spared only a second to trade apologetic glances with Kimmie before he took off after his partner. Cody was running like he was in the field, the muffler he'd had in his hands now held like a rifle. Nick redoubled his efforts, thanking all that was holy that their service weapons were safely locked away.
He caught up with Cody crouching behind the trailer, peering suspiciously around the corner at the golden, empty fields. Duckwalking closer, Nick drew his sign on his partner's shoulder. With you. Ready.
Even if he had no idea what to be ready for.
Suddenly, Cody wrenched himself away, running hard for the long, blond grass at the edge of the asphalt, muffler lowered and ready for combat.
Swearing, Nick sprinted after him, trusting Kimmie to explain to their unexpected visitor, and not really caring if she did. All he cared about was the tired, frightened former lieutenant currently sprawled under a thick green manzanita bush, sighting at phantoms in the Central California sunshine.
In the end, Nick knelt in the middle of the field, hands on his head, voice low and soft and everything he had, right there in it, all the love and sorrow and terror he felt right out in the open. And Nick held his breath, waiting for the switch to flick back, waiting for the wind to change, waiting for Cody to find his way home.
They spent the rest of the afternoon driving.
Kimmie left the keys in her truck for them, and locked up the office before she took off. Maybe she'd gotten a ride into town with the prop plane guy. Nick made a note to ask her when she came back to work. If she came back, he amended with a silent look at Cody. They were both damn lucky no one'd called the cops on them so far. This was the third time Cody'd gone back in-country in the past two months.
First he'd mistaken the gas truck driver for Pitbull and when he'd tried to pull the guy into a bear hug, reminiscing about their service days, the guy had swung on him and things pretty much went downhill from there. Still, Nick thought, that was so much better than when Kimmie'd radioed him to please come back to the office right now, her voice clipped and controlled and much too old for the girl she was. When Nick had arrived at a jog, she'd wordlessly indicated Cody, shivering and sobbing under the lone metal desk in the middle of the office.
Nick'd asked Kimmie to take an early lunch and slipped a twenty into her purse while she found her keys. Only after she'd driven away, the sound of the old Chevy dying off in the distance, would Cody tell him about the POWs he'd found hanging in the bathroom.
Nick shifted, slipping the truck into fourth as they crested the hill before the stop sign. Where Rt 84 met 101, the Pacific Coast Highway, the long grey ribbon of road crawling along next to the cool, blue expanse of water that lined the horizon. Something about it brought Cody peace, soothed the demons that held him so fiercely in their grip.
Pulling onto the highway, Nick watched the speedometer carefully. 3.4 miles between here and the rest area they went to. The one hardly anyone ever used, the one right on the beach, just a lone, sand-colored building and a mess of ice plants and asphalt, baking in the sun. Cody usually got antsy at the two-mile mark. At the 1.5 mile mark, Nick got out a cigarette and offered Cody the pack, because that was how this went. Cody grinned, his old grin, cocksure and whole, and Nick's heart thudded in his chest.
The truck parked under a spread and tortured cypress, branches creaking in the breeze, Nick followed Cody over the dunes, watching him head toward the water. The sun was low in the sky, at just the right angle to be a pain in the ass if you were flying into it, but they were just walking, heading over the burning sand until it became damp, until it crunched and gripped their shoes.
Cody stopped suddenly, whirling as if listening for something and Nick tensed, ready to give chase. But the only sounds he heard were seagulls and the distant rush of cars. Nick put a hand on Cody's arm, steadying him, thumb rubbing a question through the torn and dirty shirt he hadn't been able to pry Cody out of all week.
And then it happened.
All at once, the manic, unearthly light disappeared and Cody returned from wherever he went for safekeeping and was once again vital and gloriously present behind his eyes. Nick's breath caught in his throat.
Grinning shyly, Cody ducked his head and sank down onto the wet sand. "Sorry, pal. Guess I gave you a scare back there, huh?"
Nick shrugged. "S'okay. It happens, you know?" He carefully took a seat besides his partner, their shoulders touching.
And then neither of them said anything more, just sat in the warm sun and listened to the waves, listened to the deserted beach, listened to the sky.
Rating: PG
Summary: Sometimes there's no escape except the arms of a good friend and the ocean.
It had been a bad day all round.
The owner of the prop plane Nick'd been working on for the past two weeks showed up out of the blue, pacing and shouting down the airstrip while Kimmie tried to explain that the parts hadn't arrived yet and Nick worked on not strangling the guy with his bare hands
And right in the middle of it all, when Nick and the weekend pilot were trading jabs about the other's ancestors, upbringing and nationality, Cody spotted VC out in the grass.
Nick spared only a second to trade apologetic glances with Kimmie before he took off after his partner. Cody was running like he was in the field, the muffler he'd had in his hands now held like a rifle. Nick redoubled his efforts, thanking all that was holy that their service weapons were safely locked away.
He caught up with Cody crouching behind the trailer, peering suspiciously around the corner at the golden, empty fields. Duckwalking closer, Nick drew his sign on his partner's shoulder. With you. Ready.
Even if he had no idea what to be ready for.
Suddenly, Cody wrenched himself away, running hard for the long, blond grass at the edge of the asphalt, muffler lowered and ready for combat.
Swearing, Nick sprinted after him, trusting Kimmie to explain to their unexpected visitor, and not really caring if she did. All he cared about was the tired, frightened former lieutenant currently sprawled under a thick green manzanita bush, sighting at phantoms in the Central California sunshine.
In the end, Nick knelt in the middle of the field, hands on his head, voice low and soft and everything he had, right there in it, all the love and sorrow and terror he felt right out in the open. And Nick held his breath, waiting for the switch to flick back, waiting for the wind to change, waiting for Cody to find his way home.
They spent the rest of the afternoon driving.
Kimmie left the keys in her truck for them, and locked up the office before she took off. Maybe she'd gotten a ride into town with the prop plane guy. Nick made a note to ask her when she came back to work. If she came back, he amended with a silent look at Cody. They were both damn lucky no one'd called the cops on them so far. This was the third time Cody'd gone back in-country in the past two months.
First he'd mistaken the gas truck driver for Pitbull and when he'd tried to pull the guy into a bear hug, reminiscing about their service days, the guy had swung on him and things pretty much went downhill from there. Still, Nick thought, that was so much better than when Kimmie'd radioed him to please come back to the office right now, her voice clipped and controlled and much too old for the girl she was. When Nick had arrived at a jog, she'd wordlessly indicated Cody, shivering and sobbing under the lone metal desk in the middle of the office.
Nick'd asked Kimmie to take an early lunch and slipped a twenty into her purse while she found her keys. Only after she'd driven away, the sound of the old Chevy dying off in the distance, would Cody tell him about the POWs he'd found hanging in the bathroom.
Nick shifted, slipping the truck into fourth as they crested the hill before the stop sign. Where Rt 84 met 101, the Pacific Coast Highway, the long grey ribbon of road crawling along next to the cool, blue expanse of water that lined the horizon. Something about it brought Cody peace, soothed the demons that held him so fiercely in their grip.
Pulling onto the highway, Nick watched the speedometer carefully. 3.4 miles between here and the rest area they went to. The one hardly anyone ever used, the one right on the beach, just a lone, sand-colored building and a mess of ice plants and asphalt, baking in the sun. Cody usually got antsy at the two-mile mark. At the 1.5 mile mark, Nick got out a cigarette and offered Cody the pack, because that was how this went. Cody grinned, his old grin, cocksure and whole, and Nick's heart thudded in his chest.
The truck parked under a spread and tortured cypress, branches creaking in the breeze, Nick followed Cody over the dunes, watching him head toward the water. The sun was low in the sky, at just the right angle to be a pain in the ass if you were flying into it, but they were just walking, heading over the burning sand until it became damp, until it crunched and gripped their shoes.
Cody stopped suddenly, whirling as if listening for something and Nick tensed, ready to give chase. But the only sounds he heard were seagulls and the distant rush of cars. Nick put a hand on Cody's arm, steadying him, thumb rubbing a question through the torn and dirty shirt he hadn't been able to pry Cody out of all week.
And then it happened.
All at once, the manic, unearthly light disappeared and Cody returned from wherever he went for safekeeping and was once again vital and gloriously present behind his eyes. Nick's breath caught in his throat.
Grinning shyly, Cody ducked his head and sank down onto the wet sand. "Sorry, pal. Guess I gave you a scare back there, huh?"
Nick shrugged. "S'okay. It happens, you know?" He carefully took a seat besides his partner, their shoulders touching.
And then neither of them said anything more, just sat in the warm sun and listened to the waves, listened to the deserted beach, listened to the sky.
