"Nothing Ventured" (Other, 1985)

[riptide_asylum]

Title: Nothing Ventured
Rating: R
Summary: Cody always believed a picket fence-fairytale would come his way, but when it looks like Nick's serious -- really serious -- about a woman, his fairytale idea gets real fast. Being happy for Nick just isn't working, so what's left for him anyway?

Tuesday night, and they're home from a long, boring day. Lawyer work is like that - pays well, but it's footwork, paperwork, deliveries and errands. Not exactly what they signed on for, but they need the cash.

And really, a little boredom should be relaxing, reassuring, no guns, no fights, no danger. Should be, only a couple of years in Vietnam means they're not wired that way, and too much safety makes them nervous.

Cody leans back into the corner of the bench seat, reflecting on that. Murray, with no such concerns, is crooning to the Roboz -- he wasn't bored today, he figured out some new algorithm thanks to a glitch in their client's phone system, and he's halfway through a new program already. Cody can't remember what it does, even though Murray's told him fifty times already.

Most Tuesdays, Nick would be beside him, sitting close enough to touch, trading amused glances at Murray's occasional explosive outbursts. Flipping channels on the TV until Cody wants to belt him one, and says so. Murray gets pretty angry when they wrestle on the floor of the salon and knock out his wiring.

But this Tuesday, Nick's downstairs getting ready. He's taking out Nina again, tall, slim, put-together Nina who's all class and way out of his league. It didn't go so well when Cody shared that thought, so he's keeping his tongue between his teeth, now, and waiting for it to burn itself out.

It's already been three weeks.

Three lousy weeks.

Nick runs up the stairs, sports jacket, tie, leather dress shoes shining with polish, and Cody wants to grab him, shake him, tear off the tie and ask him what the hell he thinks he's doing.

"Looking sharp," he says instead and stands up, catching Nick's arm.

Nick looks at him for a minute, looks in his eyes, and colors up. "A new restaurant. Nina wants -- " He breaks off, shrugs, pulls away and straightens his jacket where Cody's hand has been. "Don't wait up."

***

But Cody does, because tonight he can't sleep. Girls come and go, and one day one will come for Nick, and when she goes, she'll take him along. Cody's not ready for it to be Nina, not ready for it to be now.

Even if he was, it's not Nina. It can't be, because Nick's girl will be sporty and perky, into aerobics and jazzercise and health food and rock climbing. They'll do stuff, sport and adventures, and their cute-as-button kids will excel at Little League and ballet and track. Not be primped and paraded like Nina's kids, with Nick forced into a long-hours loathsome career to pay for the upmarket bungalow and the private schools.

Cody sets his teeth, aware he's probably being unfair -- he barely knows Nina, after all, and her slick-deb looks could hide the woman of Nick's dreams. Cody just doesn't believe it. She'll kill Nick, drown him, tear away the special secret spark that makes his magic and leave him just a shell, going through the motions for her pleasure.

"Told you not to wait up," Nick says, shouldering into the room, and Cody's caught out, trapped, deer-in-the-headlights stunned that Nick's home at all, let alone the train of thought he's walked in on. For a moment he'd been lost in a future where Nick was gone, trapped in the city with his barracuda wife and spoiled, pampered brats.

"What?" Nick says more gently, casting aside his jacket and dropping to the bunk at Cody's side. "You have a bad dream?"

And Cody nods, averting his eyes so Nick won't see his lie, clinging on with all his strength when Nick leans in to comfort him. It's bad, after all, a nightmare worse than any of the war, a nightmare of aloneness and shattered dreams. Nick's, his, the ownership is tenuous at best, but either breaks his heart.

"How come you're home?" Cody says into the silence, into the sweetness of Nick's touch and the warmth of his skin. Something, anything, to stop the pictures, to stop Nick asking him about the dream.

"I gave Larry the Bum a couple of quarters, and Nina… well, she doesn't believe that giving cash to homeless guys helps them out any, I guess." Nick sighs and leans his cheek against Cody's. "Don't figure she's ever slept rough or had to wonder where her next meal was coming from, y'know?"

Cody clenches his teeth then forces himself to relax. Close as they are, Nick can't help but feel it. "Yeah, guess not," he says, voice level as he can make it.

"Real bad dream, huh?" Nick stands up abruptly and Cody's bereft, shaken, afraid he's been exposed. He reaches out, stops himself, can't stop the wave that wants to shake him apart.

"Hey, hey. Take it easy, man." Nick grips his shoulder, fumbles at his tie with his other hand. "Just gimme a minute, okay?"

Cody nods, gripping his own thighs hard enough to hurt, holding himself together while Nick strips off his dating outfit. Takes off Nina's boyfriend, hangs him in the closet, and then he's back, Cody's partner, in briefs and a sweatshirt that smells of home.

Don't go, don't leave me. Cody fights back the words, leans back against Nick's shoulder, takes what Nick can offer, is offering. Soft joking words in his ear, strength where Cody's weak, heart to Cody's soul.

"Sorry," Cody manages out loud. This isn't okay, need, weakness is accepted, acknowledged between them but not like this. "Didn't figure you'd be home. I woulda -- "

"Shut up," Nick says softly, finally. "You been so upbeat about this thing I got with Nina. Never realized you were doing it tough, you know? You gotta tell me, pal."

Cody closes his eyes, leans his head away. His back's still warm against Nick's chest, Nick's arm still warm across his belly. Doing it tough is one way to describe it, he guesses. "She's great for you," he lies. "You got a shot at this, Nick. And I'm okay, it was just tonight I -- "

"She's great for me," Nick muses, and lets Cody go. "I dunno, big guy. Seems like she doesn't understand me, you know? An' sometimes I wonder if she really wants to, or if it's too big for her. The vet thing, you know?"

Cody knows. It makes girls flinch away, gloss over it, pretend it isn't there. "She want you to ditch Reserves?"

"She doesn't even know I'm still in." Nick gives a thin smile and retreats to his own bunk. "I dunno, Cody. Maybe she's onto something. Maybe if there were no guns or choppers in my life… less reminders, you know?"

Cody stares, gulps, and stares again. "Less reminders?" It comes out high-pitched, faint, fearful. Not what he intended, but it's all he has. "You wanna quit?"

"No." Nick shoots him a glance -- wry, apologetic, resigned. "Don't sweat it, guy, I won't run out on ya, okay?"

It's not okay, but Nick flicks off the light, and there's nothing for it after that. Nick's given all he can, so Cody's out -- on the beach til dawn, walking, swimming, finally grabbing his board and flirting with the tide as the sun comes up the way he used to many years ago.

Before the war, before Nick. Less reminders.

***

A week later, early afternoon, they're in the park with Murray taking a well-earned break. Morning brought a meeting with Myron, never an auspicious start to the day, and Nick's still steaming over unpaid bills and Myron's latest shyster trick.

"You know this guy he wants us to find doesn't owe him anything, man. It's some shady deal and we're better off out of it."

Cody and Murray both know Nick's right, they've told Myron no already, but Nick's still angry. Myron with his dodgy deals and ever-changing morals is a red rag to Nick's bullshit meter, every time.

"We're not taking the case, Nick, take it easy." Cody rubs Nick's arm, refocusing him or trying anyhow, as Murray joins the line at the taco stand. "C'mon, let's get some lunch, huh?"

Nick hunches a shoulder like a kid in a sulk, but drops onto a park bench obligingly anyhow. He glowers at the line, then at Cody. "Shoulda just gone home, maybe had a sandwich," he mutters, but his mood's already lifting, Cody can tell.

By the time they've eaten, and Cody's stolen the last few bites right out of Nick's hand, the anger's gone, replaced with the tightness round the eyes, the pensive look, which Nick has been wearing since last Wednesday. He's patched things up with Nina, even taken her away for the weekend, but things aren't smooth sailing.

Cody knows, and he also knows there nothing he can do, nothing he can say.

"You okay?" he says anyhow, nudging Nick with his shoulder as they wander back to the Jimmy.

"Sure. Fine." Nick smiles, a dim imitation of the real thing, then freezes and pushes away from Cody. "Hi, Nina! I thought you said you had to work through lunch today?"

Cody watches as Nick hurries ahead to the sidewalk, watches as Nina, stops, smiles, graces her boyfriend with her time. That's not Nick, he's not anybody's pet, anybody's toy, and it makes Cody sick to his stomach. He turns away, heading for the car.

"Cody! Cody, wait for Nick!"

Cody stops, lays a hand on Murray's arm. "I'm gonna wait in the car, Boz. That's all, okay? That's all."

"Oh? Oh, sure. I guess you're right." Murray hurries after him, trips, grabs Cody's arm and steadies himself. "You know, sometimes I think you don't like Nina much, Cody, and I'm wondering if there's something I'm missing. Do you think she's acting suspiciously, maybe?"

Arrested on suspicion of grievous bodily harm, Cody thinks irrationally. Me or her? He has no answer for that, and he has no answer for Murray either. "I like Nina fine," he says anyhow.

"I guess it's hard when Nick has a girlfriend and you don't," Murray chatters on. "You spend so much time together, and now when he's sharing his time with Nina as well as you it's -- "

Sharing. Cody climbs in the Jimmy, resolutely not looking across at Nick, who has his arm around Nina and looks more animated than he has all day. Cody blinks, and tries again at not looking, with more success this time. Murray's still talking, but Cody isn't listening anymore.

He's never been good at sharing. Right from kindergarten, he guarded his things jealously. His stuffed bear. His Mickey Mouse ears. His fountain-pen. His ruck. His boat. His partner.

Back off. You can't have him. He's forgotten to not-look again only now he's glaring, and Murray's hand's on his arm.

"You don't like her," Murray says quietly, "and I think you maybe want to talk to Nick about that. Because if he's serious about her, well, she's gong to be part of our lives, isn't she? And it's his choice, of course it is, but if it's going to come down to choosing, then I think he needs to know that. Before it's too late."

"Choosing?" Cody says, and it comes out strangled. "What do you mean?"

"We're his business partners, Cody. If we can't get on with his wife, where does that leave him?"

Wife. Cody closes his eyes. Murray saying it makes it all too real. "Do you think he's that serious?"

"I think he thinks he is, and that amounts to the same thing." Murray shrugs. "Haven't you noticed? Come on, Cody, even when he was dating Peggy he spent most of his nights at home. Now he's gone four nights a week or more."

"He doesn't smile anymore! She's not making him happy!" Cody closes his mouth with a snap, on more denials Murray doesn't need to hear.

But Murray, bless him, only squeezes Cody's forearm. "Just talk to him, Cody. He needs to know."

***

Nick's been dating Nina six weeks, and Cody can't remember the last time he spent twenty-four hours in Nick's company. Something he'd always taken for granted -- it's been rare, the last twelve years, that they've been apart longer than a few hours at a time. He's gotten so used to it, having Nick within reach, within call, that now it's like an amputation.

Worse is walking on eggshells in Nick's presence. Despite Murray's advice, Cody can't do it -- can't front up to the best friend he's ever had and tell him, flat out, that this girl, this woman, won't do. It's not so much raining on Nick's parade as pissing on his dreams, and as much as Nina's wrong-wrong-wrong, Cody can't be that guy.

His dreams have always been safe with Nick, and the least he can do in return is believe, for Nick. Hope as hard as Nick. Pray for Nick.

Pray for himself and beg for forgiveness.

There's little else, really. Nina's wrong, it's a given, and Nick's leaving him, inch by agonizing inch, but short of a calamity, a nuclear winter maybe, or something simpler, an earthquake to catapult California beneath the waves, Cody can't see a solution. Apocalypse might bring Nick to his senses but anything less, and Cody has no idea which way that cat would jump.

Mimi, neglected down the pier, is a case in point. It's four or more weeks since Nick's flown her, and the last time he took a four week break, he'd been so concussed he had to sit down to pee.

Cody still remembers laughing at his friend over that, holding him up in the shower, washing vomit off the bathroom floor. Bathing his face in the night, holding his hand to keep him grounded. A barrel of laughs all around.

Nothing they hadn't done a hundred times before.

But maybe never again. If Nick's Nina's, now, then next time he's hurt, next time he's sick… Cody understands, all at once, why Nick gets so angry anytime Cody plays up an injury for feminine attention. Because Cody belongs to Nick, and if Cody's hurt, broken, sick then that's Nick's job, Nick's privilege. Not a moment for the lady of the hour.

But if Nick's not his, now, then he's not Nick's anymore either, and that's a cold, sick feeling right down his center, right into parts of him he didn't know could hurt. "I didn't agree to this," he wants to complain, wants somewhere to negotiate, some wiggle room.

But there isn't any, of course. Nick's picket fence is right around the corner, fresh paint gleaming. There's one for each of them, that's how they've always told it. Cody just never understood that Nick's might come first, that he could be left alone, still waiting. He'd always somehow figured Nick would be his support, be everything he needed, until he found his own perfect match.

Unfair, of course, and that wasn't Cody's intention. But he'd had no idea it could hurt like this, or that he'd feel so alone, so small. So forgotten.

"I know it's your birthday, big guy, but Nina's folks are in town. Kind of a big deal, you know… meeting her dad. I'll take you out for a beer Saturday, all right?"

It's the first time in years, since Nick's cargo days, that Nick's made a date with him. And it's the first time ever that Nick's stood him up, come Saturday happy hour. He hasn't seen Nick all week, has no idea how the dad-meeting went, can't bring himself to care. He cares that Murray's making lame excuses beside him, he cares that Max is bitching him out for a joint tab dating back to happy carefree days when he had a partner, damn it, a partner and a friend.

By the time Nick shows up, Cody's had too many beers and not enough food, and he's halfway between heartbroken and furious. He wants to forgive, he's ready to forgive -- he's ready, God save him, to look past anything for one sweet evening with Nick, and maybe Nick will even stay in his own bunk tonight. But then Nina sashays in, following Nick's smile, clasping his arm, turning him around before he's even made goddamn eye contact with Cody, and it's finished, over, burned out and spoiled before it even began.

"Happy fucking birthday to me," he snarls on his way out, and even Murray doesn't try to stop him.

***

They're working a case, this week, and things are uncomfortable. Nick calls Cody out on missing the party -- some fucking party, Cody thinks -- and Cody pleads a headache, a migraine, infectious fucking hepatitis. "Thanks for coming though, man. And thank Nina for me, I didn't think it woulda been her scene."

"Are you kidding? She wouldn't have missed it for the world."

Cody gives him a look, and Nick looks right back, maybe confused, maybe defiant. Cody doesn't know anymore. Their sign language is gone, their familiar telepathy a thing of the past, but luckily this is only some half-assed teens ripping off deliveries to the mall. They don't even need their guns.

It's wrapped up neat and dropped in Quinlan's lap, and once they would have gone to Straightaway's, had a beer, then come home and watched the sunset. Content, complete, together.

Today, Cody's surprised when they get back to the boat and Nick's still with them. He checks his watch. "Doesn't Nina finish at five?"

"I still live here," Nick shoots back, and it's the first time Nick's shown his teeth. Cody has no idea if that's good news or bad, just that he can't listen to Murray's hurried reassurances.

"Yeah, well, maybe it's time to move," he says, cold, staring hard. Murray gasps and Cody waits, waits for Nick to look away, to ask for more time. To touch him, please God, and somehow make it all okay again.

Instead, Nick's face floods with relief, and Cody feels the bottom fall out of his world. That's what this was about, that's why Nick's here, it's not for Cody, was never for Cody.

"Would you mind?" Nick says, hesitant, uncertain at last. "I mean, Nina wants -- I spend all my time there anyhow, now. But I don't want to leave you guys in the lurch, you know?"

The lurch, Cody recognizes dumbly, is this special layer of hell where he's taken up residence. How fucking nice that it has a name. Don't go, don't leave me, you called me partner and said you'd stand by me. Don't I get a say in this?

"Financially we'll be fine," Murray says hesitantly, obviously realizing Cody can't form words right now. "I don't know, I guess you two need to talk this over, right?"

"I don't think there's anything to say," Cody says, dispassionately understanding that the part of him that's talking now is the part his mother always wanted to see passing the bar in Connecticut. The other parts, the real parts, are somewhere back in-country, hauling Nick's ass out of six feet of steaming swamp. Cody'd go back there, now, a million times, if he could only somehow undo this day, this week, this month. Don't leave me, please don't leave me. What am I gonna do without you?

"Of course you wanna live with Nina now. This whole thing, it was always only temporary, after all. And now you've got it made."

Nick winces a little at that. "Cody… I know this has gotta be hard, man."

"What, hard for me to watch my best buddy move in with the lady of his dreams? You're kidding me, right?"

***

Nick gone makes little difference, which is a heartbreak of its own. Cody knows he's gotten short-tempered, knows how easy it would be to crawl into a bottle. How easy it would be to walk away from everyone and everything. He could march right back to the army but if he's learned one thing, it's that he's nobody's peacetime soldier. Jump a boat for Mexico and hire on as a mercenary. Eat his fucking gun.

It scares him how little he cares.

Is his life really so bound up in Nick that without Nick's attention, he's worthless?

Who is he kidding? Nick's attention saved his life in '72, his reason in '74. And since then, Nick's belief in him has buoyed him up, driven him forward, given him something, someone to be. He's the man he is because Nick believes in him, Nick needs him, and if Nick doesn't need him anymore, then who is he really? And why the fuck does it matter anyhow?

It doesn't, is the simple short answer. He's never mattered to anyone like he matters to Nick, and if he doesn't anymore -- well. "I'm just not strong enough to do this," he confides to Murray, one late night. "I don't think I can be a detective anymore."

"Something safer?" Murray hazards, with reason, because today was fraught. There was gunfire and grenades, and apparently Nick still knows how to fly Mimi, and there's seven bad guys who won't be in need of a trial. Nick got winged, but Nina's taking care of that. She gets to do that now.

"Safer?" Cody sups his beer and thinks of Mexican jungle, drug smugglers, loot. It's something, anyhow, and maybe it could touch him, make him feel again.

Maybe it can't, but nothing ventured, nothing gained.

"What if I signed the Riptide over to you? Say a one-year lease? You could do your programming, maybe some computer security work. Or if you and Nick want to run the agency without me, I wouldn't mind."

"Where are you going to go, Cody?"

Cody looks away. "Somewhere quiet, Boz. I think I need a break."

***

Cody doesn't tell Nick anything. As busy as Nick is, bound up in his new life, he'll still see straight through an outright lie. Or if he doesn't, Cody thinks it might be the end, the tipping point, and he's not ready to go there.

Not now, not ever.

They go out for beers, now, every couple of weeks. Him and Nick and Nina and Murray, a couple of girls. It's okay. The pain is duller now, soul-deep and constant, but something Cody can live with. He smashed up a leg on a ridge in 'Nam, and it took him months to learn the limitations, learn the ways around, make it work as good as it ever had.

It's the same principle. One day it'll be as good as ever.

Only it won't, of course, because there's no-one now. No-one in the night when he wakes from a nightmare, no-one in the morning to put a smile on his face, give him a reason to get out of bed. No hand on his shoulder when he can't go another step, giving him a second wind.

That's the part that will never be the same.

Cody slips away a couple of days before the fourth of July. Nick has plans of course, and the holiday's a tough one, always, what with the fireworks and parties. It'll be days before Nick knows he's gone.

He lets Murray think he's starting with a visit to his mom, even has the little guy drop him at the airport in time for a flight east. But instead he takes a cab further up the coast and boards a vessel whose name doesn't matter, whose captain takes cash. They've made contacts over the years, not all of them in law enforcement, and Cody's cashing in some favors now.

It isn't easy, and it isn't legal, even though he's in it on the side of the angels. The FBI are thrilled with the intel he's sending north, but he's on his own -- no protection, no status. He's a criminal, as black as the rest of the drug smugglers, and if he's taken he'll do hard time, no question.

If the other side figure out he's a leak, on the other hand, he'll die. Slowly, painfully.

It's one way of finding out if you're alive. Cody's not real sure of that. He's living on adrenaline, fear and coffee (and ashamed as he is to admit it, he's sampled the product on his worst days). Another thing they'd shoot him for, but the locals are wary of him. They call him crazy, loco, and give him a wide berth most of the time.

He likes it that way.

It's better than California. He has a small hut on the edge of the village. No power but he has a primus stove, and there's a well-stocked store where he runs a tab. Everything the modern drug smuggler could need.

No fridge so no beer, and he's taking it easy on the tequila. He's not ready to self-destruct, not yet, and drunkenness in this double life is an unnecessary risk. So, perhaps, is the whore he bedded on Saturday night, but the isolation may kill him before anything else, and she needed the cash.

He needed something too, even though it was Nick's name he screamed, deep inside her. Nick he cried for when he came, Nick he begged for, head resting on her pillowy breasts. "I need you, I need you, I can't help it. Please don't, please, I'll do anything. I'll do anything."

She didn't need English to kiss his eyes, soothe the sharp agony to something he could bear. It was enough to push it away for another day, another week, until he couldn't carry it any more.

He isn't going back. Somewhere around the third month, he understands that. He isn't a detective without Nick, and he certainly isn't a peacetime citizen of the USA without Nick. But he is a passable drug smuggler and a better informant, and now, with an ass (a stubborn beast named Dooley for obvious reasons) and a speedboat (named Pepita) of his own, there's enough to do to keep him busy. To keep him alive.

Monday, he and Dooley set out for the hills, laden with packages. Money, mainly, although sometimes it's guns. A convoluted, secret way, with code words and hides and altogether more people than Cody is comfortable with, and back they come, loaded with cocaine for the American market.

The journey takes three or four days, depending on banditos and threats. Thus far, Cody had lost no consignments, having been either incredibly lucky or incredibly adroit (and ruthless with his weapon). He isn't entirely sure which applies.

On Friday, he loads up Pepita and chugs out of the small, hidden harbor to a rendezvous point well clear of the shipping lanes. Drops down the plastic wrapped packages, anchored to the buoy, pulls up the payment, chugs back to shore. Lobster pots, to anyone who asks, and certainly Pepita is festooned with them.

Monday morning, Dooley's loaded and picking his slow way up their favored track. They're an hour into the journey and heading for the steepest part when a sound, a click, metal on metal, sends Cody over a bank. Seeking cover too late as a bullet sings through his hair. A nasty crease, nothing worse, but it's knocked him silly, or nearly so, and he's slow, too slow. A second bullet takes him in the shoulder before he finds a tiny bush and hunkers in, shaken, bleeding. There's blood in his eyes, his nose, his mouth, dulling everything, making him faint, or maybe that's the strange numb coldness in his shoulder. Maybe it's his ass, braying loudly from somewhere out of sight which probably means the banditos are trying to lead it away.

Nick, Nick, Nick… His mantra always, and he finds himself listening for the Hueys, listening for the pickup that will never come, not now. Because this isn't Vietnam, this is Lurch, the Seventh Circle of Hell, the place where everything ends. Cody understands that now.

Cody makes himself small, letting himself down slow. He's hit worse than he first thought, and he can feel himself getting shocky. Two hours from home, there's a chance, but he doesn't know if he wants it.

"C'mon, son. You're hit but I don't think it's fatal. Let's get you to the medics, okay?"

Cody struggles to open his eyes. For some reason, he's hallucinating an American angel dressed like Daniel Boone without the hat. He giggles a little. "Mexican angel… oughtta speak Spanish."

"I daresay, but unfortunately for you, I ain't no angel." The angel flashes a badge, and Cody gives up trying. If this is Quinlan in disguise, he's never gonna let him live it down. "Dan Cutter, FBI."

"Dan Cutter. You're my contact," Cody says, and tries to sit up. It's the last thing he remembers.

***

He wakes up in hospital, and everyone's speaking English. That's the first clue, that and the bustle, the size. No longer in Mexico.

His shoulder aches and so does his head, but there's something in his system keeping him floating, and Cody's fine with that. The American angel's in the room, reading a fat manila folder, and there's a uniformed officer at the door. He's under guard, and deep-deep-deep up shit creek.

"What went down?" he creaks out, and Cutter puts down his folder and comes to the bed.

"We took out the supply chain up there at the weekend. We were waiting for you as the last piece but we didn't count on those banditos getting you first. And what you said when I picked you up… I gather it's your communications we have to thank for the success of our operation."

Cody blinks. "Mine?"

"If you're the enterprising guy who's been my penpal the last few months, yeah."

Cody grins. "Penpal. I like that. Glad I could help."

"We'll talk more when you're stronger. Tomorrow, maybe. You're under arrest right now, but you're not charged yet, and if I were you, I wouldn't kick up about that, if you get my drift."

Cody's not planning on kicking about anything. He grins again, sketches a wave with his good hand. "See you tomorrow."

"What you did was risky as shit, but we appreciate it. I think I can keep your ass out of a sling, but no promises, okay?"

"Yes sir," Cody mutters, and closes his eyes.

"We've contacted your next of kin, by the way. Although you won't be allowed to see anyone until we have your statement."

Cody doesn't bother opening his eyes. Nick's his next of kin on everything now, even his army paperwork. Nick will come, probably, and hopefully Nina won't. Cody wonders how much he's been told.

***

"Drug trafficking? What the fuck?" Nick barely waits for the guard to get out of the room before he's pacing, demanding in a low controlled voice, glaring at Cody in fury, in horror, in flat out pain. Cody can read it all in his face, and he closes his eyes against it.

He's already exhausted from spilling his guts to Cutter earlier in the day, signing sheafs and sheafs of paper that nearly double the size of the manila folder. There's no promises and no freedom, not yet, but Cutter gave him a nod, and Cody thinks it might be okay.

He isn't ready to care, yet.

"It's not what you think," he says tiredly, wishing Nick would stop. Wishing, just for a moment, for his buddy to come to the bed and take his hand, look in his eyes. He's hurt Nick, he knows it, but after all, Nick went first.

"I've been looking for you for three months, you asshole. Three lousy months all over the goddamn country, and you been down there what? Making a fortune and pissing on everything that matters?"

"You looked for me?" Cody opens his eyes at that.

"Of course I goddamn looked for you. Maybe Murray buys your B.S., I dunno, but that fairy tale you spun him of a quiet life, needing a break -- it stunk to me. Scared the shit out of me." Nick gestures at the bed, turns his back.

Sorry, Cody thinks but doesn't say. There isn't anything to say, nothing to make it right, anyway.

"Goddamn it, Cody. They're gonna throw the book at you, and then what? What if they try you in Mexico and lock you up down there? Jesus, guy, this is serious shit."

Nick comes to the bed then and Cody gives up scrambling for words, for reassurances that might not be true. Instead he reaches out, gripping Nick's shirt, pulling him near. Nick came, Nick's here, and even though he's angry, it's still the most alive Cody's been in months.

Nick resists for a moment then gives in, one hand against Cody's cheek, the other clasping Cody's hand. "We had it all, we'd won," he says raggedly. "And now I'm gonna lose you, and how the hell am I supposed to get through that?"

Cody laughs, he can't help himself. "I hear drug trafficking's profitable, this time of year."

"You bastard." Nick pulls away, paces the room, glares at Cody. "This is a joke to you, is that it? What the fuck is going on in your head anyhow? We were partners and you dumped me, disappeared, and now -- now this. I can't even -- "

"I can't either, Nick. That's why I went." Cody's dizzy, the pain in his shoulder ramping up, and he can't explain, not now. Maybe not ever. Gee, Nick, you love your girlfriend more than me and that's something I can't get past.

"I don't understand." Nick shakes his head, but he comes back to the bed, and Cody catches his sleeve with the last of his strength. For a moment, Nick stares down at Cody's hand, then suddenly he seems to get it, and pulls up a chair. "I'm gonna wait and be angry with you next week," he says, soft all at once, fingers finding their way into Cody's hair. "Okay? We're not done with this."

Cody breathes out, frightened, desperate to hold on but he can't, he's lost the right, lost Nick, lost everything. "Okay," he says but it's a sob, the first of a flood, and there's nothing he can do now to stop it.

Nick holds him like Nina's never been born, doesn't let go until the nurse throws him out and by then Cody's barely conscious anyhow.

***

He isn't charged. His information held good, Cutter comes through and by the end of the week, the guard's a thing of the past. Cutter warns him against returning to Mexico. "We cleaned house, but there's long memories down there, and if you're alive and free when everyone else involved is dead or in prison, you won't last five minutes, son."

It makes sense, and Cody doesn't want to go back anyhow. Nick's been with him every day for the hour they'll allow, and now he's no longer a criminal, Murray will be allowed to visit as well. Maybe there's still something for him, here, maybe he can negotiate a Saturday afternoon date with Nick, just the two of them.

Maybe, with a little courage, he can let Nick know what's been in his head, because after all, hurting Nick was never the goal. The opposite, in fact.

He's allowed home Monday, still very sore and with his left arm immobilized. Nick and Murray are all solicitation, and when he's finally in his bunk, propped on pillows, supplied with juice and coffee and magazines, he looks at the two worried, relieved, expectant faces and says, "Sorry."

"So what, you were working for the FBI?" Nick's anger is still present but dialled back, and Cody gets it. He's angry Cody went off alone, without backup, into danger. It's against the rules, against everything they've always been.

"Yeah," Cody says, because that's how it went down at the end.

"Why?" Nick asks, moving closer, and although Murray's still in the room, there's no-one else. Nick's holding Cody's eyes, looking at him like he hasn't in forever, and Cody reaches out, needing more.

Nick drops to his knees beside Cody's bunk, folds Cody's hand in his own, looks right in Cody's eyes. Lets Cody see, and Cody can't stop the tears that roll out of his eyes, because Nick's been terrified, paralyzed with it, shaken to his core by Cody's disappearance.

Of course he has, and if Cody had stopped to think for one second, one lousy second, he'd have known it. Nina's important, but Nick's his partner.

"I fucked up," Cody says through the tears. "Nick, I didn't think."

"You made it, that's what matters. Moron." Nick leans in, runs gentle fingers through his hair. "Rest now, okay?"

Cody hesitates. "Stay. Please?"

Nick smiles, nods, squeezes his hand. "I might be slow on the uptake sometimes," he says cryptically, "but this time, I got it. Take it easy, buddy. I'm gonna be right here."

True to his word, Nick barely leaves Cody side. Strength and support in the bathroom, warm close presence in the night, joking, gentle best-friend-he's-ever-had by day. Cody needs it, all of it, and does his best to let Nick know, this time around.

"You keep thanking me," Nick says softly, sinking to the bunk at Cody's side. "Like you're expecting me to run out on you or something."

"I just want you to know," Cody says, looking at the blanket. "I think I used to take too much for granted."

Nick swears, half under his breath and wraps an arm around Cody. "Listen, I gotta ask you something. Was this a one-time thing, or are you a g-man now? When you're fixed up, I mean."

"I was never a g-man," Cody replies, leaning in. "Unofficial. What they call a source or a snitch, I guess."

Nick digests that. "So you're in the clear? We can go back to the agency?" He hesitates. "If you want to, I mean."

"I'm in the clear. We can go back, as long as you want to." Cody sighs, sits back, bites the bullet. "I figured Nina woulda made you quit by now, buddy."

Nick flinches. "You're right. She did. She figured out a great career for me selling electronics in some hardware store downtown, signed me up for school at night so's I could be manager in a year."

"Selling electronics? Who does she think you are, Murray?"

Nick gives a short laugh. "I dunno, but she never could figure out why I wouldn't go for it. 'Now Cody's gone, there's no need to stay with that stupid agency. You can have a real job, with career opportunities.'"

"Now Cody's gone…"

"I know, I know. I'm sorry, okay? I never knew she hated you. I never realized what she was doing until you went, until Murray let on how hard you'd been taking it all. I wish you'd told me, man. I wish you'd shaken some sense into me right at the start."

"Murray told me to talk to you. But it was your chance, you thought you had it made. I couldn't be the one to rip that out from under you, buddy. And what if you hadn't listened? What if you chose her?"

Nick looks him square in the eye. "Maybe I wouldn't have wanted to listen. Maybe I'd have gotten mad. But I want you to understand one thing, Cody. If it comes to choosing, I'm done, you know? You're my partner. It's that simple."

Cody wants to cry again. He's still Nick's after all, after everything. And that's everything, his center, his heart, his home.

"I thought you knew that." Nick bites his lips, looking cut-up himself. "But you didn't, huh? That's my fault. After everything we've been through, man, you got the right, you know? You've earned it. You hate my car? I'll sell it. You hate my girl? She's history. You know?"

"Oh, Nick…" Cody sits forward again, reaches out, and Nick moves closer, taking hold. Hugging Cody gently against his chest, one hand petting Cody's injured shoulder. Cody buries his head against Nick's neck, taking refuge, hiding. Sheltering.

"Don't do that again," Nick says, barely above a whisper. "It was like that time over there when you were MIA and they posted me to Ho Chi Minh. Nothing I could do to find you, and everything I tried dead-ended…"

Cody gulps, hard, and forgets about fighting tears. "A bullet in the shoulder's better than a shattered leg."

"Three months is a hell of a long time," Nick shoots back, "and jury's out on the bullet, man."

Cody nods against Nick's neck and lifts his head. "Something I been meaning to tell you, buddy."

Nick draws back, eyes wet, looking a little apprehensive, a little hopeful. "What's that?"

"I've always hated your chopper, you know? So how about -- "

"Nice try. Close but no cigar." Nick's grin's everything Cody wants, everything he's missed, and it's all he can do not to cry again. "Mimi's family."

***

Tuesday night, and they're home from a long, boring day. Lawyer work again, and they need the cash as much as they ever did.

Anyhow, boring's okay right now. Cody's shoulder's nearly good as new, but his head and his heart aren't quite in the game, and he knows Nick's feeling the same.

Nick's sitting in the corner of the bench seat, feet up on the seat, holding a one-sided argument with the TV news-reader. It's getting kind of heated, and Cody reaches back, grabs Nick thigh, squeezes gently.

Nick breaks off, and slides an arm across Cody's chest. Cody's beside him, leaning back into him, his back against Nick's shoulder. Another inch and he'd be in Nick's lap. "Probably something better on," Cody suggests. "You'll wake Murray up."

"Probably," Nick agrees, and doesn't change the channel, or let Cody go, but he does lower the TV volume. Murray's downstairs, maybe already asleep -- he's been working nights on a new game. "You're not watching this?"

"Nope," Cody confirms, leaning back further, letting Nick take more of his weight.

"Comfortable?" Nick inquires mildly, squeezing gently, and Cody grins. He's clingy right now, he knows it -- Nick's his reassurance, his safety net, and Nick seems to get it. They've always been tight, always been physical with each other, but since being back, Cody's only really comfortable if he's touching Nick.

"Getting there," Cody replies, tilting his head to let Nick see his grin.

"Shoulder still sore?" Nick wilfully misunderstands, grinning back -- it's what he does when Cody tries apologizing for the imperative he feels to be close, to touch. Deflects, jokes, and just holds on, lifeline, best friend, partner. Everything.

"Barely. I took some painkillers around one."

"Okay." Nick stands and clicks off the TV. "C'mon, man."

"Where are we going?" Cody uncurls gingerly and climbs to his feet, not as limber as he used to be. The old injury in his leg is bitching at him more and more these days, probably because of all the rest. He's lost fitness, lost muscle tone, and it makes him feel old.

"We are going downstairs, and you are gonna take a hot shower. Then I'm gonna rub you down with that fancy oil Murray invented last week."

"You don't have to do that." Cody feels his face heating, embarrassed by how much he wants exactly what Nick's describing. "My shoulder's okay now."

"Stop complaining and strip," Nick says, steering him down the stairs and into the head. "C'mon, it's gotta be hot enough to raise your body temperature, isn't that what Murray said?"

"Yeah." Cody strips, watching as Nick turns on the shower. Wondering if Nick's gonna strip himself. Even the idea send his blood rushing south and he leave his jeans on until the last moment, finally sliding them off and diving behind the curtain.

"Don't be embarrassed. It shows you're feeling better."

Cody, safely hidden in the showerbox, leans his head against the wall and allows the water to run over his back and down his leg. It's hot, hotter than he'd normally have it, and it's having an effect on both injuries. He tries, really hard, to will some kind of effect on his errant hard-on.

It shows I'm a fuck-up, buddy. I don't wanna share you, not now, not with Nina, not with anyone. "Does it gotta be this hot?"

"Stop whining, it's not becoming. C'mon, you want me to come in there and wash your back, or what?"

Cody emphatically doesn't want that, and says so. The banter helps, as he'd planned, gets him back on their familiar, safe track. Fixes the problem, at least until he's face-down on his bed, laying on a fluffy towel, more covering his shoulders and legs.

"Where'd you find these towels?" Cody murmurs, wriggling against their plush softness. They're nothing like his and Nick's regular bathroom accessories.

"When me'n Nina moved in together, she made me buy all new towels. So when I left, I brought 'em with me." Nick leans down, close, and Cody can feel hot breath on his shoulder. He wonders what Nick's doing. "I kinda like them."

"Me too." Cody's stuck, breathless as Nick straddles his thighs. He can feel Nick's nakedness, his body-heat, the hint of velvet as Nick's balls brush his ass. He's felt it before, they've done this before, but something's very different now.

Murray's oil's warm on his shoulder, nearly as warm as Nick's touch, and Cody distracts himself, trying to remember all the ingredients. Murray's taking a class on herbs and essential oils, and the Riptide's been fragrant with unusual scents the last couple of weeks.

"Smells better than his aftershave," Nick mutters, starting to work on Cody's shoulder. "What's in it? Langalanga and cocoa beans?"

Cody laughs at that. "Cocoa butter's the base, he said it would help to prevent scarring. And it's ylang ylang, not langalanga."

"Whatever. Don't figure it'd run an engine, anyhow. But if it keeps your pistons running smooth, I'm all for it."

Cody doesn't even try to answer that. The painful niggles in his shoulder are melting away, driven off by Nick's fingers or Murray's oil, or just the simple fact of Nick tending to him. That makes him nervous, so nervous -- how little he'll accept, how much he needs. "I'd do it again," he says suddenly, and tries to sit up. "D'you get that? Not to hurt you or -- or anything, but because I can't. I just can't."

Nick holds him down gently, palm on his shoulder. "Easy, Cody. Take it easy. Just let me do this, okay? It is okay, right? You're not freaking out?"

Cody shudders, nods. He is freaking out, but it's at the idea of Nick meeting another girl, leaving him again. Not at whatever Nick's doing now, so Cody figures he's accurate enough.

"You won't do it again," Nick says, quiet, intense, fingers kneading their way across Cody's newly healed flesh. "You know why? Because I'm not gonna let you get so far from me again. You're my partner, and that matters, and there's nothing else for me, you know?" He covers Cody's shoulder with a towel, shifts his weight, and for a second Cody thinks it's over. Panic rises -- Nick's laid him bare, opened him up, and he's not ready to be alone with himself.

"It's okay." Nick pulls the towel off Cody's legs, leans over him. "What is it, pal? You don't want this?"

"Stay with me," Cody manages, although he can hardly take a full breath. "Nick, I -- I can't."

"Easy. Easy, Cody, I'm here." Nick's beside him, half on top of him, covering him with his body. "Okay? I'm not going anyplace."

"Sorry," Cody forces out, although it's relief smothering him now -- relief and embarrassment. But Nick's body over his expunges all the fear, wipes it out as if it had never been. He can breathe again.

Nick sits up again, but before the fear returns he's talking, explaining, hands running gently over Cody's ass and down his leg. "I noticed your leg's been bothering you lately. Let's see if Murray's oil helps it too, okay? You okay with that?"

Cody's okay with anything that means Nick will keep touching him. Even when Nick rolls him on his side for easier access. The bone was smashed just below his knee, but there was muscle damage right up into his groin, and Nick knows all that. Cody realizes that belatedly as Nick starts on his thigh, smoothing the oil all over.

It's something else, and Cody squirms away, trying to roll back onto his belly, trying to squash his rapidly-filling dick against the blanket.

"Hey. Easy." Nick stops, hands still resting on Cody's thigh. "It's okay, you know? You don't have to fight it."

Cody hides his face. He should be able to laugh this off, but it's not a joke, it's so much more than a simple combination of abstinence and stimulation. It's Nick, touching him with his own specialized brand of gentle intimacy, and if Cody allows this, allows himself to feel this, then what happens next?

How is he supposed to turn the feeling off in daylight, on the pier, at Straightaway's, when Nick touches him and it's his everything now?

Nick moves, lays the towel back over him, and Cody's heart freezes with terror. Nick can't stop now, can't leave him alone right now.

"C'mon, relax. Trust me. Told you I wasn't going anyplace, remember?" Nick stretches on the bunk behind Cody, rests his hand on Cody's towel-covered hip, rubs gently. "Not gonna do anything you don't want, okay?"

"If I didn't want it, it wouldn't be a problem," Cody blurts, words set free now Nick can't see his face.

"That right?" There's amusement in Nick's voice and he moves forward a little, pressing against Cody's ass.

Nick's hard as a rock and Cody can't help his gasp, can't help the way his hips rock back, seeking more. Can't help his own straining erection.

"Seems to me we both got the same problem," Nick says softly, lips brushing Cody's neck with every word. "So I thought that meant we had a solution, you know?"

Cody squeezes his eyes shut, fighting the images Nick's words are starting in his brain. Losing Nick to Nina nearly destroyed him. Having Nick just might finish the job, especially if it's a one-time thing. "I tried to be happy for you and Nina, I really did. But she wanted all of you, everything, and I get that, I do. You know why I get that, Nick?"

Nick slides his arms around Cody. "It's okay, all that's over. Cody -- "

Cody cuts him off. He has to get this out, try and make Nick understand. Now, before he loses his nerve. "I get it because that's the same thing I want. And I thought I had it, I didn't even know, but it turned out that in my head, you were mine. But then she took you away so easily, I had to let you go, understand I wasn't yours, I'd never been yours." He breathes deep, enormously comforted that Nick's still holding him now. "I'm scared of your 'solution', buddy, because if we do that, I don't think I'll be able to let you go next time, d'you get that?"

"There isn't gonna be a next time," Nick says, holding Cody tight. "You think this was a party for me, huh? Knowing you were putting yourself in danger out there somewhere, an' I couldn't find you… there's no girl can trump that, you know? There's nothing. You're my guy, Cody Allen, you always have been, and I ain't letting you disappear on me again."

"It wasn't supposed to be blackmail." Cody turns over, filled in equal parts with warmth and guilt.

"It's the simple truth," Nick says, and kisses him.

The warmth in Cody swells, explodes, roars through his veins, through his soul, fills him up, drowns him, saves him. He's floating, grounded only where he's touching Nick, kissing him like he's water, air. Everything he needs.

"Don't ever leave me again," Nick says, "you're mine, always, promise me, Cody. Promise me."

"Yes," Cody says, "yes," and he's never meant anything more in his whole life.

***

A tough case, this one. They've been on point for more than a week, short on sleep, their daytimes filled with research and computers, their nighttimes a mess of gunfire, car chases and interminable stakeouts.

But it's done now, the bad guys hauled away, new tape installed on Murray's glasses, and the Roboz only needs minor repairs.

Nick and Cody have gotten off pretty easy -- Cody's strained his bad leg, and Nick's bruised and aching from rolling off a moving car. It's Cody's least favorite move, and he says so. Several times.

"Yeah, well, I know," Nick agrees at last. He's barely said a word as Cody hauled him down to their stateroom, submitted to being undressed, and now he's sitting on the edge of his bunk in just his shorts.

Bruising is starting across his back, down his ribs, and Cody's touching the places, gentle, possessive, horrified. "It scares me when you put yourself in danger," Cody says at last, without heat, calmer now that Nick's acknowledging his concern.

Nick glances at him, then away and Cody winces. Nick's forgiven him for the whole Mexican-drug-runner thing, but he hasn't forgotten, and the unspoken comparison is loud in Cody's brain.

"It's not the same," he says defensively.

"No, you're right. There was zero chance of me getting tortured to death and buried in an unmarked grave so's that you would never, never know for sure what had happened to me. Am I right?"

"Shit," Cody says, thinking But I wasn't and I can handle myself better than that and not saying either. They don't make it better, he ripped Nick's heart out as surely as Nick shredded his first.

"I'm sorry." Nick sighs, reaches out for him. "Don't worry about me, I can handle myself. You know that."

"Yeah, okay, I get it." Cody acknowledges defeat, grinning ruefully at the glint in Nick's eye that says he knows exactly what's in Cody's head. "I don't mind risking myself," he murmurs, dropping to the bunk at Nick's side.

"I'll make you a bargain. Next time you wanna risk yourself, you jump on a car, okay? Hell, I'll even drive it, just for you. How's that?"

"I said I get it." Cody flops back on the bed, not wanting to do this now. He's sore, Nick's sore, the adrenaline's a distant memory and he wants to be allowed off the hook.

Nick looks at him a moment, nods. "Okay. How 'bout the part where you tackled that guy on the stairs and nearly broke your leg again, huh? You like that comparison better?"

Cody groans and closes his eyes. He knows, rationally, that he and Nick think the same, act the same -- whatever it takes, they lay it on the line. Every time. It's just always been easier to do than to be the one watching.

"I know, okay? I do." Nick undoes Cody's belt, his fly, and drags his jeans off. "Your leg okay?"

"Yeah. Kinda stiff."

Nick strokes his thigh, tracing the bruising, finding the strain unerringly. "Here's my bargain," he says, clearly not quite ready to leave it alone yet. "The real one, this time. I can handle any crazy stunts you dream up, you know? Hell, I seen you do the tango on chopper struts while the fucking bird's in a nosedive and we're being shelled, an' every time you came out laughing. You don't have to tell me you can handle yourself, big guy, you know?"

Cody doesn't remember laughing in any of those situations, but he opens his eyes anyhow. Nick's the hero to his sidekick act, always has been -- hot pilot with all the ideas and most of the skill, the one who pulls Cody out when things go pear-shaped. "You got me through," he says jerkily. "You wouldn't let me fall, you wouldn't let me get hit."

Nick looks away. Cody can see the adam's apple working in his throat. "That's what I'm talking about," he says at last. "We're a team. The craziest pair of fuckers God ever put breath into, isn't that what Pitbull used to call us?"

Cody grins. It's true, their rep was something else, but so were their results and they're still here to talk about it, which is an achievement in itself.

"So that's my bargain. We stick together. Crazy stunts allowed, s'long as we got each other to pick up the pieces. You in?"

"You know I am." Cody reaches for Nick, pulls him down close, soreness forgotten. It's a good bargain, a great one, even if it's not a promise that Nick will stay off moving vehicles. He's still a dab hand on a chopper strut himself, if it comes to that, and who knows when he'll need that skill next. "Y'ever want to do something safer?"

Nick shifts on top of him. He's hard through his shorts and Cody is too -- Nick grins when he feels it and Cody grins back.

"Safer?" Nick says, and claims his mouth hard. "Like what, maybe harbor tours and water-skiing lessons?"

Cody slides his hands over Nick's back and presses his hips up, groaning softly into the feeling. This is safe, this is what he's always wanted. As much as he hates Nick being in danger, they've tried doing it low-key and it leaves them both on edge and wired. Adrenaline's a way of life, and Nick's his partner in it.

Cody closes his eyes as Nick unbuttons his shirt, accepting the brief space as Nick moves away and obediently wriggling out of shirt and shorts as Nick tugs peremptorily. Then Nick's back, nude too, close, touching him, holding him. It's everything, and Cody grips him tight, holds him, needs him.

He'll follow Nick anywhere, Vietnam, California, doesn't matter -- it's his curse, or maybe his salvation. Just as long as Nick leads. "Car-jacking and money-laundering in Bolivia," he says speculatively, opening his eyes.

Nick laughs out at that. "You're not getting rid of me even with something as safe and boring as that, man."

It's Cody's turn to laugh, but he sobers when Nick leans in close, whispers in his ear. "Wherever you go, whatever you do, I'll never let you go again."

It's something to rely on -- something Cody's needed for more than a decade. And now it's his explicitly, he's Nick's, Nick says so. Nick's hand on him is consummation, possession and supplication all at once, and Cody can never get enough.

"Gonna make you forget all about Bolivia, big guy. You ready?"

Never. Always. It's never the same, always bigger than he can bear -- he can't ever be ready for Nick. Even as it completes him, them, as he owns himself as always Nick's, Nick as always his. Adrenaline junkies maybe, but they are never so alive as now.

"As ready as you are, pal."