Fic: Too Heavy For Me Part Four
Part Three
Pete turned up right on time to help Patrick get settled into his new apartment. It was already furnished and several boxes of Patrick’s belongings had arrived. Pete got to work unpacking them while Patrick opened the curtains and looked around.
“It’s nice,” Patrick said, once he’d finished looking through the other rooms. Pete had to agree. It was of a similar size to his own apartment but with one bedroom rather than two, and Patrick didn’t have to share it with anyone else. Patrick shut the front door and turned the lock, then tested the door to see if it would open. He put the chain on and then unlocked and opened the door to see how much give was in the chain. Pete tried not to watch too openly. No wonder Patrick had been so delighted to get out of the hospital, where people came and went at all hours. There were certainly no locks on the doors there.
Patrick helped him put away the last of his clothes, not that there was much left to do, and then he took out his guitar. Pete started making sandwiches for lunch, and Patrick started fiddling with the guitar strings again. This time Pete couldn’t really figure out what he was doing; he wasn’t tuning the strings to the standard pitch as far as he could tell. He tightened the lowest string as much as he could and alternated between humming the Simpsons theme and Greensleeves.
“What are you doing?” Pete asked when he couldn’t take it anymore.
Instead of replying, Patrick balanced the guitar in his lap, bracing the neck against the crook of his left elbow, and played a chord with his right hand. He played half a dozen more chords on the open strings, and then experimented with a few others.
“So you can still strum with your right hand,” Pete said.
Patrick nodded. “But I can’t play every chord this way,” he said, trying out a couple of chords that didn’t sound quite right. “I think if I were learning to play for the first time, that wouldn’t bother me, but...”
“You want to be able to play like you could before,” Pete said quietly, and Patrick nodded over the guitar, his shoulders hunched. “It would bother me too.”
Patrick got to work on the tuning keys again, returning the guitar to the original tuning. “Back to the drawing board,” he said.
“Is it really hard, fretting with your right hand?”
“It’s... different. I think I’ll get used to it, though. I’ll have to.”
Pete took one last look at the room, knowing that he had work he needed to do with the other Sentinels but not wanting to leave. He could come back, though. Now Patrick was in the same apartment complex as Pete, they could hang out together more. If Patrick wanted to.
“I’ll come back this evening, help you out with dinner,” Pete said.
“You don’t have to,” Patrick said at once.
“Oh, sure I do,” said Pete. “It’s part of my job.”
“Oh, right. Well, okay then,” said Patrick, and he smiled, but there was something off about it. Pete worried that he might have said something wrong, but there was no time to dwell on it.
***
There was an email from Mikey. Mikey insisted he wasn’t much of a bass player, but Pete knew that wasn’t true - he’d heard the songs, and anyway Mikey knew plenty of musicians, starting with the rest of his band. But Mikey said he’d talked to Frank and Ray who hadn’t really had any suggestions for Patrick, although they’d promised to keep thinking about it.
“Did you confess your undying love?” Jon teased gently once Pete had sent his reply. Ever since he’d figured out Pete’s crush on Mikey he’d been bugging Pete to make a move.
“No,” said Pete. “And stop saying shit like that. I’m not going to tell him.” He was going to get over his crush. Somehow.
“You’re missing out,” said Jon.
“I’m never dating anybody, ever again,” Pete declared dramatically.
“Seriously?” Jon asked, his tone suggesting that he didn’t really believe it. Pete wasn’t even sure he believed himself. It just seemed like the thing to say.
“Yeah,” said Pete. “If I don’t date him I can’t fuck it up. Safest way.”
“That’s stupid.”
“Your face is stupid,” Pete retorted, because that was as much maturity as Jon deserved.
“I don’t get you,” Jon said, more seriously. “What are you afraid of?”
“Nothing,” Pete snapped. “I’m just trying to stop making incredibly bad choices, if that’s alright with you. I would have thought that was a good thing.”
“Cutting yourself off from people is not a good choice,” Jon said. “Not everyone is out to get you.”
Pete rolled his eyes. What he wanted to say was ‘Stop being so dramatic’, but what came out of his mouth was, “Shows how much you know.” And then Jon looked sad and Pete felt stupid, because that wasn’t true. He knew it wasn’t true. Who was being dramatic now?
“Hah,” Pete said, weakly. “Well. That’s. No, never mind.” He got up to leave, but Jon stopped him.
“You can tell me about it if you want,” he said.
“I don’t.”
Jon did him the kindness of not pointing out that that was clearly untrue. Not with his words, anyway, his face made his point loud and clear.
“I was a bad kid,” Pete said. He was probably going to regret telling Jon this. He used to have better self control, but now - first the pills, now this. Couldn’t seem to help himself. “You know, I cut classes, smoked. Smoked weed. Got into fights at school. After I learned I was a Guide, I was worse. Kind of angry, I guess.” Jon nodded. “My parents didn’t know what to do with me.” Pete looked down and tugged at the cuffs of his shirt. It hurt more to talk about this than he would have thought, even after all this time. “So they sent me away to this - um. Sort of a bootcamp thing. Not quite prison, and not quite school, but...”
Jon nodded again. He didn’t look very surprised, so maybe the other Guides had been gossiping about him. Pete couldn’t seem to make himself care. “You had to earn points, by following all the rules. Or if you tattled on other kids breaking the rules. Everyone was watching you all the time, to see you slip up so they could tell someone. And for so many points you’d be given levels, and for each level you got more privileges. You had to get a certain number of points to finish the program. But if you screwed up, they’d take points away. Every time you did something wrong, every mistake meant another day you were stuck there. Or week, or month. Whatever. If you messed up bad enough, they might take away all your points and make you start over at the beginning. Happened to me three times.”
“Fuck,” said Jon. “How did you get out?”
“Well, they can’t keep you against your will once you turn eighteen, so on my birthday I told them I was leaving. They put me in a car and drove me to the nearest G-TAC centre, and made me sign myself over.” Pete paused, thinking back on that day. “I could have refused, of course. My number hadn’t come up yet, I could have just left, but I wasn’t sure my parents would let me come home without finishing the program and I wasn’t sure where else I could go. And I knew eventually I’d probably end up at G-TAC anyway, so arguing about it just didn’t seem worth it.”
Jon nodded. “So you couldn’t trust anyone, and every mistake was a catastrophe,” he said.
“I’m not...” Pete sighed. He hadn’t told Jon the story so he could analyse him. “Everyone takes care of themselves first,” he said. “I don’t want to be convinced that it’s ‘worth it’, to ‘let someone in’ or whatever. It’s not. I’m doing fine. Just let me get on with it.”
Jon looked like he had a lot to say. Pete was pretty sure he actually, literally, bit his tongue. “Okay,” he said at last, with a nod. It looked kind of painful for him.
***
A week or so later, Pete was halfway through a particularly annoying day where everything had seemed to go wrong. He was hurrying back to the apartment to change out of his vomit-splattered shirt when he heard someone yelling his name.
“Pete! Hey, Pete!”
Pete looked towards the voice and saw someone waving at him. He peered at the figure, because he thought he recognised them but it didn’t make sense. Pete crossed the road to reach the other person.
“Holy shit. Mikey?”
It really was Mikey. Mikey and his brother Gerard who Pete had never really met but had seen once or twice. Mikey and Gerard standing here, on a sidewalk at Walter Reed.
“What the hell are you doing here?” Pete asked.
“Hey,” Mikey said, grinning. “We found you! Oh, my God. Gerard and I had a meeting with Susan,” he waved towards Gerard, who waved at Pete. “And we thought on our way back we’d come by and see you. We weren’t really expecting it to be so big. I sort of figured we’d just turn up and, like, find you in the foyer or something. We’ve been wandering around for nearly an hour.”
Pete couldn’t help but laugh when he heard that. “You dork,” he said affectionately. Mikey smiled and stuck out his tongue, his nose wrinkling up and making his glasses move. Pete was touched, because whatever Mikey said about being in the area, Pete knew that to get here from their meeting with the congresswoman they’d have to have driven at least an hour out of their way.
“Thanks for coming,” he said.
Mikey moved in like he was going for a hug, then hesitated. “Yeah, you might not want to do that right now,” Pete suggested, and Mikey laughed. Pete tried not to feel too disappointed, because a hug would have been pretty nice.
He’d been very careful while Trent was alive, not wanting the Sentinel to smell the scent of another Guide on him. He’d got used to keeping his distance, but that didn’t matter now. Of course he smelled of other Guides; he lived with three.
Mikey grabbed his hand and squeezed it instead, and then Gerard held out his hand for a handshake and said, “It’s good to finally meet you.”
If Pete had been cautious about being around Mikey, he’d been twice as wary of Gerard. A Sentinel could pick up another Sentinel’s scent days later. “You too,” he said, taking Gerard’s hand.
“I guess we can’t keep you from your work for too long,” Mikey said with a hint of reluctance.
“Maybe,” Pete said. “I am supposed to get half an hour for lunch, and I need to change. Um, you want to come up with me?”
He led Mikey and Gerard into the apartment complex and stopped by Jon’s room on the way. Jon answered the door with a cup of coffee in one hand, and Pete couldn’t help but notice the way Mikey and Gerard’s eyes were drawn to it like magnets.
“Hey,” said Jon.
“Jon,” Pete said. “Oh my God. Um. My friends have come to visit.” He turned a little bit so Jon could see Mikey and Gerard behind him.
“Hey,” Jon repeated, lifting his coffee cup in salute. Pete could tell he was kind of surprised from the way his eyebrows lifted, but Jon was a pretty laid back kind of guy. “I’m Jon.”
“Yeah, um, this is Gerard and Mikey...”
“Ohhh,” Jon said, while Pete tried to hold in the urge to kick him in the shin.
“Jon, can you please, please do something for me? I’m supposed to sit with Mr Stillman while he has dialysis in thirty minutes, and...”
“Say no more,” Jon said, smiling. “I can do that.”
“Thanks. I owe you, like, a dozen by now, probably.”
“Go have lunch, Pete.”
Pete led Mikey and Gerard up to the apartment and changed his shirt. Gerard seemed much more comfortable once Pete had dropped the stained shirt in his room and shut the door. Mikey ambushed him as soon as he came out of the bedroom and administered the hug he’d held back from giving downstairs, refusing to let go until Pete could hardly breathe.
Pete offered them both coffee and tried to think what he could give them for lunch. He usually made himself a sandwich, but there was nothing to put on it except cheese and wilted lettuce, and Pete was slightly embarrassed to offer something so paltry. Hoping for the best, he cooked a pot of ramen.
“This is nice,” Mikey said generously, looking around the room. Pete followed his gaze, trying to imagine what the apartment looked like to someone who didn’t live there. Without the other three Guides crowding up the space, he supposed it wasn’t so bad.
“It’s alright,” said Pete. “I can’t believe you’re actually here.”
“We wanted it to be a surprise,” Mikey said. “Did it work?”
“Like you wouldn’t believe. I nearly had a heart attack when I saw you standing there.” Mikey laughed, and Pete added, “How was your meeting with Susan?”
“Oh, fine.”
A thought struck Pete. “Hey, is it true they’re trying to shut down G-TAC dorms, get Guides into individual housing?”
“Uh, not that I’ve heard. Our meeting with Susan was about, well - about coming up with some regulations to handle abusive Sentinels.” Mikey wouldn’t quite meet his eyes. Pete wondered if Mikey and Gerard were pursuing that agenda for his benefit. Probably not.
“I thought you guys were staying out of the politics stuff now,” Pete said.
“We’re being discreet. Susan’s doing all the public stuff, she’s just asking us for suggestions. It’s kind of boring, to be honest.”
“Oh.” Pete nodded. “Well - are you still doing the music?”
Mikey grinned and pulled a walkman out of the pocket of his hoodie.
Sometime in between songs, Gerard said he was going out for a smoke and left the apartment. Pete felt himself relax almost imperceptibly once the Sentinel was gone. It was silly; he knew Gerard was alright, but he couldn’t let his guard down around him. Mikey played the last song on the tape and put the walkman away when it was over.
“Are you doing okay, Pete?” Mikey asked quietly. Pete had heard that question a lot of times - too many, really, since Trent’s death - but this was the first time he felt like giving an honest answer. He did the safest thing, and kept his mouth shut.
Mikey bumped their shoulders together. “I was so pissed off when you said they’d come and picked you up a day early. I didn’t think I’d get to see you again.”
“Yeah,” said Pete. “I was pretty mad about that too.”
He went quiet then, and Mikey waited a minute or two before he hesitantly said, “Do you want to talk about it?”
Pete wished he could say no, but that would have been a lie. “He was hit by a car,” he said, because he hadn’t even managed to tell Mikey the barest details of what had happened. “Went into a zone in the middle of the street, and just...”
“I’m sorry,” Mikey said, a hint of question in his voice, like he wasn’t sure he should say it. Like he was asking Pete’s permission to be sorry.
“I should have done something,” Pete said.
“You did everything you could,” Mikey said, and it was so precisely wrong that Pete could only shake his head. “It wasn’t your fault.”
“I could have pushed him out of the way,” Pete forced out. “I chose not to.”
“You couldn’t have had time.”
“I did!” Pete snapped, and hot tears burned his eyes. He was crying because Mikey didn’t want to hear what a terrible person he was. That was pretty fucking stupid. “I saw the car coming, I should have saved him, but I didn’t.”
“You had no obligation to put yourself at risk to save him. It was him or you.”
“No, it wasn’t,” Pete retorted. He was working himself up into an impressively foul mood, and it wasn’t until Mikey grabbed his arms and shook them that he realised his friend was just as pissed off.
“He was killing you,” Mikey said fiercely, “and I don’t care that he’s dead. I don’t care what you did. I just don’t.”
Pete was too startled to speak for a few seconds. “It wasn’t that bad,” he managed at last, but it was such a weak lie that Mikey didn’t even bother to respond to it. “What am I supposed to do?” Pete wondered. “Maybe you don’t care that I just let him die, but I can’t... I can’t trust myself. I chose Trent, and then I.... What am I going to do next, huh?”
Mikey had a hunted look on his face, like he knew he didn’t have an answer and was refusing to admit it. “Everything’s going to be okay,” he said, like he had every intention of making it so through sheer force of will. It was nice, but not exactly reassuring. Mikey didn’t actually have superpowers. Pete was on his own.
“Yeah,” Pete agreed. “It’ll be okay. I’m fine.” That got him an incredulous look, but what did Mikey want from him? To be fine for real, probably, and not just say that he was. But Pete couldn’t do that.
Mikey hugged him again before he left. This time, Pete was the one reluctant to let go, but he tried not to show it. He didn’t want to worry Mikey anymore.
The day seemed a little bit colder once Mikey was gone.
***
It had been a long time since Pete had slept in a room by himself. Even after Trent’s death, he’d imagined that he could still feel the Sentinel’s presence. Then there was Edward - he had a way of filling up space. But he’d come around that evening and collected most of his possessions, and now he was with Julia so they could begin the bonding process.
Pete had told Sharon and Linda that he was going to enjoy it while it lasted. A new Guide would be along soon enough, and in the meantime he could stay up as late and snore as loudly as he wanted. He could write lyrics for hours without anyone wanting to know what he was doing. He could have as many nightmares as he liked. (He would have settled for none, but that didn’t seem to be an option.) At least no one would wake up and start worrying about him in the middle of the night.
Pete had one pill left, and he told himself that he should save it for a night when he didn’t have the room to himself, but it was too hard to fall asleep without it. The room was too quiet. His breathing was too loud. Even after he took the pill, he didn’t sleep all that restfully.
The next day would have been long even with a good night’s sleep. He hadn’t thought that a couple more Sentinels would be that many to deal with, but it left him with almost no time to think. That was kind of good, actually. He ate meals on the run and learned to fill in his paperwork with his right hand and hold a Sentinel’s hand with the other.
He saw Edward and Julia that evening. He looked blissfully happy. They both did. It looked like they might work out. Pete felt something tighten in his chest, a feeling he couldn’t identify. Envy. Worry. A bit of both, maybe.
That night he was out of pills. He was tired from the night before, but he still tossed and turned for at least two hours before he finally drifted off to sleep. He woke up a few times from vague, nonsensical dreams that he forgot as soon as he awoke. He finally went into a deeper sleep sometime before dawn and dreamed that he was taking a test he hadn’t studied for. Such an ordinary, unremarkable dream, but when he looked at the test paper he realised it was a list of all his flaws, and he couldn’t remember them all. He was going to fail, and that would be another one for the list, but it was already so long...
When Pete woke up from that dream, he gave up on the whole sleep idea and got out of bed. It was almost morning anyway. He made a pot of coffee, extra strong, and swept the kitchen floor since he didn’t want to wake Linda and Sharon by running the shower.
Jon was due to leave that morning, and busy as he was, Pete made sure to stop by his room to say goodbye before he did anything else.
Jon’s bags were stacked by the door. He was straightening the cushions on the couch. Without his belongings scattered around, the apartment looked barren, and so clean it seemed almost sterile.
“Hey,” said Pete, trying to sound upbeat.
Jon grinned at him. “Hey, Pete. Does it look okay?” He gestured to the apartment, and Pete held in a snort because there was nothing out of place.
“Whoever moves in here had better keep it just like this,” Pete joked. “Not mess it up with their, you know. Food. And clothes.”
Jon smiled, although it was a pretty weak joke. Pete didn’t really feel up to being actually funny.
“I’d better get downstairs,” said Jon. “The taxi will be here to take me to the airport.”
“I’ll help you carry everything,” Pete offered. There wasn’t too much for one person to carry, but Pete was pretty sure Jon wasn’t supposed to be putting too much weight on his leg, so he tried to take the heaviest-looking things. The look Jon gave him suggested that he knew what Pete was doing.
“Good luck with everything,” Pete said as they walked. “I hope this Ross guy is alright.” That made him feel worse, because what if he wasn’t? Pete would probably never know, either way. He realised they’d never actually exchanged email addresses, and it didn’t matter anyway because he wasn’t going to be able to send any more emails. He’d already explained that to Mikey, but he hadn’t had time to check if Mikey had replied and now he’d never know. He tried to shake the selfish thoughts out of his head.
“I’m going to be fine,” said Jon. Pete nodded. “You, too.” Pete nodded again, less surely this time. They reached the taxi, and Jon loaded the bags into the trunk.
“Listen,” said Jon, “you should talk to Sharon and Linda more. Edward, too. They want...”
Pete blinked, and waited. Jon frowned. “They want you to be okay,” he finished at last. “And... yeah. So, just... remember that, okay?”
Pete nodded again, mostly because he hoped it would make Jon stop looking at him like that. He started to put his arms up, and then second guessed himself. Were they friends who hugged? Or not? But Jon seemed to have no such reservations and hugged him tight for at least a minute.
And then, far too suddenly, he was gone.
***
Julia was the one to tell G-TAC about the bonding, Pete learned when he talked to Edward later that day. It was what he’d expected; if G-TAC was going to be unhappy about the news, well, they wouldn’t take their displeasure out on a Sentinel. So the first time Pete learned how Nagel and Ridley had taken the news was when they turned up with a new Guide.
He was younger than Pete, younger than Linda even, and waved at them from the door like he didn’t care that Nagel could see him.
“This is Luis,” Nagel said without ceremony, shoving the kid through the door. “For God’s sake, try to hang onto this one for a while, huh? I’m sick of fixing up your messes.” He glared around the room and they all avoided his gaze. “Timesheets!” he barked. “Well? We trekked all the way out here for nothing, the least you could do is hand over your paperwork.”
They all jumped into action; over his shoulder, Pete could see Luis dividing his glances between the two caseworkers and studying the apartment. He brought his timesheets to Ridley who accepted them with a stiff nod. He seemed unhappy, but whether it was because of the unscheduled trip he’d had to make, or for some other reason, Pete couldn’t say.
Ridley and Nagel left, and Pete showed Luis to the bedroom. He pointed out the closet and started to explain which side the shirts should go on, and that they all had to face the same way, and Luis said, “Oh, sure, just like in training. No problem.”
Pete nodded sharply and made to leave the room, but he stopped when Luis asked, “The caseworker guy said the Guide who was here before me bonded? Is that right? To one of the patients, he said.”
“Yeah,” Pete answered. “That’s right.”
“Does that happen a lot? They seemed kind of pissed off by it, so I thought maybe not, but...”
Something about Luis’s tone rubbed Pete the wrong way. He seemed eager, almost. Far too keen and enthusiastic to suit Pete. “No,” he said. “It’s not usual, from what I’ve heard. Most of the Sentinels don’t stay for all that long. The ones who do, they’ve got more on their mind than bonding, most of the time.”
Luis seemed to deflate a little at this, but he said, “Yeah, that makes sense.” He was obviously disappointed, which made Pete feel guilty, maybe because, despite what he’d said, he had managed to build up a sort of friendship with Patrick, hadn’t he? He wasn’t being totally honest with Luis. But when he looked at the kid’s open, hopeful face, he couldn’t make himself say anything else.
Over dinner, they talked about how to divide up the Sentinels now there were four of them again. It was something Pete hadn’t considered, and in the moment he had to scramble to decide who to hand off. He told Luis he could take care of Evan, and avoided Linda’s gaze. The Sentinels she’d passed to him when he’d first arrived had all been perfectly nice. He was sure she’d do the same for Luis, and he knew she had a few assholes to deal with too. He just wasn’t that good a person.
What was she trying to protect Luis for anyway? It wouldn’t do him much good a few months or a year from now, when his assignment here ended and they sent him off to care for a Sentinel by himself. Pete hardened his heart. Luis would be fine.
***
Pete had felt guilty enough about Evan that he’d also given Luis Terri as well, who’d never been any trouble at all. He showed Luis where to find his Sentinels and gave him a few tips for dealing with Evan, and hustled off to Patrick’s room as soon as he could.
Patrick had already made coffee when Pete arrived, and he offered Pete a cup with a proud grin. Pete accepted in the vain hope that coffee might make up for lack of sleep, and said, “What can I get you for breakfast?”
“I’m pretty sure I can pour a bowl of cereal for myself,” Patrick said wryly. “Come on, Pete. I know you’re only supposed to help me if I need it. Otherwise you wouldn’t have time to sleep.”
Pete hadn’t really been expecting to be called out on the fact that he was giving Patrick special treatment - had been for weeks now, if he was to be honest. He flushed and bit his lip, trying to think of a way to deflect the suggestion Patrick was making.
“I just thought you might want something a bit better than cold cereal,” he said as casually as he could. “But if not, then hey, that’s your business.”
Patrick gave him a look as though to say that he wasn’t fooled, and pulled a bowl out of a cupboard. “Your friend Jon came to talk to me, the day before he left,” he said, as he was pouring the cereal in.
“What?” Pete said, startled. “He what? Why?”
“He said he’d just been reassigned, and he said you’d been using his computer to email some friends.”
Pete’s breath caught as he started to panic. Why had Jon said that? What was Patrick going to do about it? It wasn’t like using the internet was explicitly against the rules, but Pete knew from experience that that wouldn’t stop G-TAC from making an issue of it.
The initial spike of panic subsided and Pete realised that Patrick hadn’t stopped talking. He tried to focus on the Sentinel’s face and figure out what he was saying, but Patrick went quiet and the only impression Pete was left with was that he’d just been asked a question.
“Huh?” Pete replied eloquently.
“I said, you can use mine. I mean, since Jon’s gone, do you want to use my computer? He said he’d email you.”
“No, thanks,” Pete said tersely. No, no no no. He wasn’t going to fall for that. It would be like giving the fox the keys to the henhouse, or some other phrase his grandmother used to say.
“Well, your choice,” Patrick said, although he sounded - disappointed? “But if you change your mind, the offer stands.”
“Thanks, though,” Pete repeated quickly, wishing now that he’d phrased his refusal a bit more delicately. He didn’t want to upset Patrick. He should have just made an excuse for why he couldn’t just now, and then hopefully Patrick would have forgotten about it, but now the damage was done.
“Pete, um...” Patrick said, and his tone suggested that he was broaching some new topic, and one that he wasn’t eager to bring up. “I hope that everything’s okay?”
“Of course it is. Why wouldn’t it be?”
“Well, Jon mentioned that you were, um, having a hard time with some, uh, stuff.”
Jon again. If Pete saw him again, which he wouldn’t, he’d be pretty tempted to punch the other man in the face.
“And you’ve really been there for me since I got here, so I want you to know that - if you need to talk or whatever...”
Everyone wanted him to talk. What for? What good would it do? Oh, this was payback, wasn’t it, for all the times he’d tried to cheer Patrick up. Poetic justice.
He smiled, although he was sure it looked more like a grimace, and said, “I’m fine, but thanks anyway. And I’m running late now, so... I’ll be back this evening.”
It was probably only because of what Patrick had said that Pete noticed the way Linda and Sharon kept looking at him. Constant anxious and concerned glances that they seemed to think he couldn’t see. Maybe he wouldn’t have noticed them if Patrick’s questions hadn’t made him more self-conscious than usual.
“What?” he demanded irritably the fifth time or so he caught them at it.
Linda said, “Nothing,” but Sharon, being Sharon, said, “Jon said we needed to keep an eye on you, so that’s what we’re doing.”
“Sharon,” Linda hissed, “I don’t think we were supposed to tell him that.”
Pete groaned loudly and said, “Not you too! I’m fine.” Sharon and Linda looked doubtful, and Pete huffed indignantly. Linda opened her mouth, probably to say something kind and supportive, and Pete knew he was being a dick, but he walked out of the apartment without a word.
He ended up at Patrick’s door, of course. “Hey. Hey! Feel like dinner?” he asked, and Patrick let him in. Pete diced chicken for a stirfry while Patrick painstakingly sliced vegetables, and if he was still going by the time Pete had the chicken cooked, neither of them said anything about it.
“Do you really not mind if I use the computer?” Pete asked suspiciously, taking advantage of Patrick’s preoccupation to ask while his guard was down.
“Of course not,” Patrick said, glaring at a carrot. “Why are these stupid things so round?”
“Are you sure? I don’t think I’m supposed to, you know,” said Pete.
“Uh-huh.”
Of course, Pete’s clever ploy wasn’t going to work if Patrick wasn’t actually listening at all. “G-TAC would probably be hugely pissed off if they found out,” he said. “I’d be in trouble. Maybe you’d be in trouble too.” Not fucking likely, Sentinels were untouchable as far as G-TAC was concerned. But something seemed to penetrate Patrick’s head, anyway, because he looked at Pete and frowned, seeming lost for words.
“Pete-” Patrick began, then stopped, licked his lips, and said, “I don’t-” He stopped again and shook his head. “If you’re worried I’ll rat you out or something, well, I won’t. I don’t care what you use the computer for. I’m not trying to - to spy on you, or whatever you think. Maybe it’s breaking a rule or something, but I don’t really care. It’s up to you. Don’t use it, if you don’t want.” He moved to chop the last piece of carrot, and the knife twisted, sending half the carrot flying across the room. “Fuck.” Patrick dropped the knife in the sink and pushed the chopping board over to Pete before going to retrieve the stray vegetable.
Once the vegetables were cooking, Pete looked over to the computer desk in the corner and Patrick waved at him.
“Go on,” he said. “I can keep an eye on this.” And when Pete hesitated and was about to decline again, Patrick put his hand to Pete’s shoulder and turned him towards the desk, gently pushing him that way. Not a shove, not at all; in fact all the scrutiny Pete had been under made him suspect that Patrick was being overly careful with him. “Go,” Patrick said, and finally Pete let himself do as Patrick said.
There was an email from Mikey, like he’d thought there would be, but there were two others as well. He opened the most recent one.
Hey Pete, this is Ray. You know, Mikey’s friend. We were talking about your friend Patrick - oh, I don’t really know of anything that could help him, I’m sorry - but Mikey said we should maybe get in touch, so he gave me your email address. So, you know, email me. If you want. We can talk about whatever. Anyway I have to go, Frank and I are seeing a movie tonight, but you can call anytime. And then there was a phone number, and the email ended.
Pete frowned at the screen and opened the next email, which was from Jon.
Hi Pete,
I guess it’s possible that you’re slightly annoyed with me right now. Which I understand. But I didn’t like the idea of leaving you without anyone to talk to, and Mikey was worried about you as well. So, I’d say I’m sorry, but... it’s more that I’m sorry for not being sorry. So yeah.
I’m settled in at Fort Lewis. The weather here stinks. I hope you’re doing okay. Let me know how Edward and Julia are getting on? And everyone else?
Don’t be a stranger,
Jon
Pete narrowed his eyes at the email from Mikey, and now that he was looking he noticed that the subject line read: ‘Admit it you would have done the same thing.’
Pete,
I hate the idea that you might think I betrayed your trust, but what you told me on the weekend frightened me. No, not that thing. The other stuff. When you said you couldn’t trust yourself and you weren’t sure what you were going to do. I’d never forgive myself if I ignored something like that and then... well. Anyway.
I didn’t tell Jon what you told me, okay? I didn’t tell him anything he hadn’t already guessed for himself. He wants to help you, and he seems, you know, decent and stuff. Maybe if you don’t want to talk to me you’ll talk to him instead.
Jon said he was going to get some of the other Guides over there to keep an eye on you too. I said you probably wouldn’t want a lot of people hovering around, and he said that’s what Guides do when one of us is going through something bad. I guess I haven’t been around enough other Guides to... anyway that’s not important. I’m trusting Jon to find Guides who can be trusted, so, well, he better not fuck that up.
I asked Ray to get in touch with you too. I know I don’t... I can’t really understand everything you’re going through, but if you want to talk to Ray about it, he’ll listen. And stuff. We don’t want to bother you or crowd you, the ball’s in your court Pete, but we’re all here. I hope there’s one of us you can talk to if you need to.
Mikey
Pete read the email twice and wondered how much of a basket case he’d seemed to make Mikey so worried about him. How screwed up must he appear to everyone around him, to have them all so worried? Was he really as fucked up as all that?
He probably was, Pete decided after thinking about it for a few minutes. He always had been really, but he’d actually got worse since Trent’s death, which made no sense at all. It wasn’t just that he felt guilty about letting Trent die, although he did. It wasn’t just that he felt scared and miserable all the time, because that was nothing new. It was that he couldn’t control himself anymore.
Couldn’t sleep through the night. Couldn’t hear a loud sudden noise without jumping out of his skin. Some days he was pretty sure he only managed to get out of bed because he knew he had no choice. He needed the damn pills just to get through the night, through the day, but they were all gone and he couldn’t get more. And he was worrying everyone around him, because they wanted to help but there was nothing they could do.
He couldn’t just continue to fake being okay any more. Couldn’t tell Mikey or anyone else how bad things actually were, either. They’d panic, probably go to his caseworker behind his back. They wouldn’t want to, but what else could they do? And then it would all be out of his control. Pete had to move first.
Ridley wasn’t so bad, anyway. Not for a G-TAC caseworker. He might listen, might try to help. Pete twisted the hem of his shirt and realised his palms were sweaty, and his heart was racing. He didn’t want to talk to Ridley, but he had to. And it would probably be okay.
Over in the kitchen, he heard bowls clattering, and Patrick called out, “Hey, Pete, you want some of this?”
Pete wiped his hands on his pants and got up to help. He spent the whole meal unusually quiet, and after they’d washed up he went back to send a quick reply to Jon.
I can’t say I didn’t freak out a bit when I realised you’d talked to Patrick, but so far so good. You don’t have to worry about me, though, I’m fine. Mikey’s just a worrywart.
We don’t get to see much of Edward now, of course, but whenever I run into him he always seems blissfully happy. The lucky bastard. Nothing much has changed here otherwise.
I hope you’re okay up there in Washington state. Hope that Ross guy isn’t too much of a dick. Or at least is nice to look at, lol.
Pete
He thought about replying to Mikey, but after five minutes of staring at the screen and not writing a single word, he gave up.
Part Five
Pete turned up right on time to help Patrick get settled into his new apartment. It was already furnished and several boxes of Patrick’s belongings had arrived. Pete got to work unpacking them while Patrick opened the curtains and looked around.
“It’s nice,” Patrick said, once he’d finished looking through the other rooms. Pete had to agree. It was of a similar size to his own apartment but with one bedroom rather than two, and Patrick didn’t have to share it with anyone else. Patrick shut the front door and turned the lock, then tested the door to see if it would open. He put the chain on and then unlocked and opened the door to see how much give was in the chain. Pete tried not to watch too openly. No wonder Patrick had been so delighted to get out of the hospital, where people came and went at all hours. There were certainly no locks on the doors there.
Patrick helped him put away the last of his clothes, not that there was much left to do, and then he took out his guitar. Pete started making sandwiches for lunch, and Patrick started fiddling with the guitar strings again. This time Pete couldn’t really figure out what he was doing; he wasn’t tuning the strings to the standard pitch as far as he could tell. He tightened the lowest string as much as he could and alternated between humming the Simpsons theme and Greensleeves.
“What are you doing?” Pete asked when he couldn’t take it anymore.
Instead of replying, Patrick balanced the guitar in his lap, bracing the neck against the crook of his left elbow, and played a chord with his right hand. He played half a dozen more chords on the open strings, and then experimented with a few others.
“So you can still strum with your right hand,” Pete said.
Patrick nodded. “But I can’t play every chord this way,” he said, trying out a couple of chords that didn’t sound quite right. “I think if I were learning to play for the first time, that wouldn’t bother me, but...”
“You want to be able to play like you could before,” Pete said quietly, and Patrick nodded over the guitar, his shoulders hunched. “It would bother me too.”
Patrick got to work on the tuning keys again, returning the guitar to the original tuning. “Back to the drawing board,” he said.
“Is it really hard, fretting with your right hand?”
“It’s... different. I think I’ll get used to it, though. I’ll have to.”
Pete took one last look at the room, knowing that he had work he needed to do with the other Sentinels but not wanting to leave. He could come back, though. Now Patrick was in the same apartment complex as Pete, they could hang out together more. If Patrick wanted to.
“I’ll come back this evening, help you out with dinner,” Pete said.
“You don’t have to,” Patrick said at once.
“Oh, sure I do,” said Pete. “It’s part of my job.”
“Oh, right. Well, okay then,” said Patrick, and he smiled, but there was something off about it. Pete worried that he might have said something wrong, but there was no time to dwell on it.
***
There was an email from Mikey. Mikey insisted he wasn’t much of a bass player, but Pete knew that wasn’t true - he’d heard the songs, and anyway Mikey knew plenty of musicians, starting with the rest of his band. But Mikey said he’d talked to Frank and Ray who hadn’t really had any suggestions for Patrick, although they’d promised to keep thinking about it.
“Did you confess your undying love?” Jon teased gently once Pete had sent his reply. Ever since he’d figured out Pete’s crush on Mikey he’d been bugging Pete to make a move.
“No,” said Pete. “And stop saying shit like that. I’m not going to tell him.” He was going to get over his crush. Somehow.
“You’re missing out,” said Jon.
“I’m never dating anybody, ever again,” Pete declared dramatically.
“Seriously?” Jon asked, his tone suggesting that he didn’t really believe it. Pete wasn’t even sure he believed himself. It just seemed like the thing to say.
“Yeah,” said Pete. “If I don’t date him I can’t fuck it up. Safest way.”
“That’s stupid.”
“Your face is stupid,” Pete retorted, because that was as much maturity as Jon deserved.
“I don’t get you,” Jon said, more seriously. “What are you afraid of?”
“Nothing,” Pete snapped. “I’m just trying to stop making incredibly bad choices, if that’s alright with you. I would have thought that was a good thing.”
“Cutting yourself off from people is not a good choice,” Jon said. “Not everyone is out to get you.”
Pete rolled his eyes. What he wanted to say was ‘Stop being so dramatic’, but what came out of his mouth was, “Shows how much you know.” And then Jon looked sad and Pete felt stupid, because that wasn’t true. He knew it wasn’t true. Who was being dramatic now?
“Hah,” Pete said, weakly. “Well. That’s. No, never mind.” He got up to leave, but Jon stopped him.
“You can tell me about it if you want,” he said.
“I don’t.”
Jon did him the kindness of not pointing out that that was clearly untrue. Not with his words, anyway, his face made his point loud and clear.
“I was a bad kid,” Pete said. He was probably going to regret telling Jon this. He used to have better self control, but now - first the pills, now this. Couldn’t seem to help himself. “You know, I cut classes, smoked. Smoked weed. Got into fights at school. After I learned I was a Guide, I was worse. Kind of angry, I guess.” Jon nodded. “My parents didn’t know what to do with me.” Pete looked down and tugged at the cuffs of his shirt. It hurt more to talk about this than he would have thought, even after all this time. “So they sent me away to this - um. Sort of a bootcamp thing. Not quite prison, and not quite school, but...”
Jon nodded again. He didn’t look very surprised, so maybe the other Guides had been gossiping about him. Pete couldn’t seem to make himself care. “You had to earn points, by following all the rules. Or if you tattled on other kids breaking the rules. Everyone was watching you all the time, to see you slip up so they could tell someone. And for so many points you’d be given levels, and for each level you got more privileges. You had to get a certain number of points to finish the program. But if you screwed up, they’d take points away. Every time you did something wrong, every mistake meant another day you were stuck there. Or week, or month. Whatever. If you messed up bad enough, they might take away all your points and make you start over at the beginning. Happened to me three times.”
“Fuck,” said Jon. “How did you get out?”
“Well, they can’t keep you against your will once you turn eighteen, so on my birthday I told them I was leaving. They put me in a car and drove me to the nearest G-TAC centre, and made me sign myself over.” Pete paused, thinking back on that day. “I could have refused, of course. My number hadn’t come up yet, I could have just left, but I wasn’t sure my parents would let me come home without finishing the program and I wasn’t sure where else I could go. And I knew eventually I’d probably end up at G-TAC anyway, so arguing about it just didn’t seem worth it.”
Jon nodded. “So you couldn’t trust anyone, and every mistake was a catastrophe,” he said.
“I’m not...” Pete sighed. He hadn’t told Jon the story so he could analyse him. “Everyone takes care of themselves first,” he said. “I don’t want to be convinced that it’s ‘worth it’, to ‘let someone in’ or whatever. It’s not. I’m doing fine. Just let me get on with it.”
Jon looked like he had a lot to say. Pete was pretty sure he actually, literally, bit his tongue. “Okay,” he said at last, with a nod. It looked kind of painful for him.
***
A week or so later, Pete was halfway through a particularly annoying day where everything had seemed to go wrong. He was hurrying back to the apartment to change out of his vomit-splattered shirt when he heard someone yelling his name.
“Pete! Hey, Pete!”
Pete looked towards the voice and saw someone waving at him. He peered at the figure, because he thought he recognised them but it didn’t make sense. Pete crossed the road to reach the other person.
“Holy shit. Mikey?”
It really was Mikey. Mikey and his brother Gerard who Pete had never really met but had seen once or twice. Mikey and Gerard standing here, on a sidewalk at Walter Reed.
“What the hell are you doing here?” Pete asked.
“Hey,” Mikey said, grinning. “We found you! Oh, my God. Gerard and I had a meeting with Susan,” he waved towards Gerard, who waved at Pete. “And we thought on our way back we’d come by and see you. We weren’t really expecting it to be so big. I sort of figured we’d just turn up and, like, find you in the foyer or something. We’ve been wandering around for nearly an hour.”
Pete couldn’t help but laugh when he heard that. “You dork,” he said affectionately. Mikey smiled and stuck out his tongue, his nose wrinkling up and making his glasses move. Pete was touched, because whatever Mikey said about being in the area, Pete knew that to get here from their meeting with the congresswoman they’d have to have driven at least an hour out of their way.
“Thanks for coming,” he said.
Mikey moved in like he was going for a hug, then hesitated. “Yeah, you might not want to do that right now,” Pete suggested, and Mikey laughed. Pete tried not to feel too disappointed, because a hug would have been pretty nice.
He’d been very careful while Trent was alive, not wanting the Sentinel to smell the scent of another Guide on him. He’d got used to keeping his distance, but that didn’t matter now. Of course he smelled of other Guides; he lived with three.
Mikey grabbed his hand and squeezed it instead, and then Gerard held out his hand for a handshake and said, “It’s good to finally meet you.”
If Pete had been cautious about being around Mikey, he’d been twice as wary of Gerard. A Sentinel could pick up another Sentinel’s scent days later. “You too,” he said, taking Gerard’s hand.
“I guess we can’t keep you from your work for too long,” Mikey said with a hint of reluctance.
“Maybe,” Pete said. “I am supposed to get half an hour for lunch, and I need to change. Um, you want to come up with me?”
He led Mikey and Gerard into the apartment complex and stopped by Jon’s room on the way. Jon answered the door with a cup of coffee in one hand, and Pete couldn’t help but notice the way Mikey and Gerard’s eyes were drawn to it like magnets.
“Hey,” said Jon.
“Jon,” Pete said. “Oh my God. Um. My friends have come to visit.” He turned a little bit so Jon could see Mikey and Gerard behind him.
“Hey,” Jon repeated, lifting his coffee cup in salute. Pete could tell he was kind of surprised from the way his eyebrows lifted, but Jon was a pretty laid back kind of guy. “I’m Jon.”
“Yeah, um, this is Gerard and Mikey...”
“Ohhh,” Jon said, while Pete tried to hold in the urge to kick him in the shin.
“Jon, can you please, please do something for me? I’m supposed to sit with Mr Stillman while he has dialysis in thirty minutes, and...”
“Say no more,” Jon said, smiling. “I can do that.”
“Thanks. I owe you, like, a dozen by now, probably.”
“Go have lunch, Pete.”
Pete led Mikey and Gerard up to the apartment and changed his shirt. Gerard seemed much more comfortable once Pete had dropped the stained shirt in his room and shut the door. Mikey ambushed him as soon as he came out of the bedroom and administered the hug he’d held back from giving downstairs, refusing to let go until Pete could hardly breathe.
Pete offered them both coffee and tried to think what he could give them for lunch. He usually made himself a sandwich, but there was nothing to put on it except cheese and wilted lettuce, and Pete was slightly embarrassed to offer something so paltry. Hoping for the best, he cooked a pot of ramen.
“This is nice,” Mikey said generously, looking around the room. Pete followed his gaze, trying to imagine what the apartment looked like to someone who didn’t live there. Without the other three Guides crowding up the space, he supposed it wasn’t so bad.
“It’s alright,” said Pete. “I can’t believe you’re actually here.”
“We wanted it to be a surprise,” Mikey said. “Did it work?”
“Like you wouldn’t believe. I nearly had a heart attack when I saw you standing there.” Mikey laughed, and Pete added, “How was your meeting with Susan?”
“Oh, fine.”
A thought struck Pete. “Hey, is it true they’re trying to shut down G-TAC dorms, get Guides into individual housing?”
“Uh, not that I’ve heard. Our meeting with Susan was about, well - about coming up with some regulations to handle abusive Sentinels.” Mikey wouldn’t quite meet his eyes. Pete wondered if Mikey and Gerard were pursuing that agenda for his benefit. Probably not.
“I thought you guys were staying out of the politics stuff now,” Pete said.
“We’re being discreet. Susan’s doing all the public stuff, she’s just asking us for suggestions. It’s kind of boring, to be honest.”
“Oh.” Pete nodded. “Well - are you still doing the music?”
Mikey grinned and pulled a walkman out of the pocket of his hoodie.
Sometime in between songs, Gerard said he was going out for a smoke and left the apartment. Pete felt himself relax almost imperceptibly once the Sentinel was gone. It was silly; he knew Gerard was alright, but he couldn’t let his guard down around him. Mikey played the last song on the tape and put the walkman away when it was over.
“Are you doing okay, Pete?” Mikey asked quietly. Pete had heard that question a lot of times - too many, really, since Trent’s death - but this was the first time he felt like giving an honest answer. He did the safest thing, and kept his mouth shut.
Mikey bumped their shoulders together. “I was so pissed off when you said they’d come and picked you up a day early. I didn’t think I’d get to see you again.”
“Yeah,” said Pete. “I was pretty mad about that too.”
He went quiet then, and Mikey waited a minute or two before he hesitantly said, “Do you want to talk about it?”
Pete wished he could say no, but that would have been a lie. “He was hit by a car,” he said, because he hadn’t even managed to tell Mikey the barest details of what had happened. “Went into a zone in the middle of the street, and just...”
“I’m sorry,” Mikey said, a hint of question in his voice, like he wasn’t sure he should say it. Like he was asking Pete’s permission to be sorry.
“I should have done something,” Pete said.
“You did everything you could,” Mikey said, and it was so precisely wrong that Pete could only shake his head. “It wasn’t your fault.”
“I could have pushed him out of the way,” Pete forced out. “I chose not to.”
“You couldn’t have had time.”
“I did!” Pete snapped, and hot tears burned his eyes. He was crying because Mikey didn’t want to hear what a terrible person he was. That was pretty fucking stupid. “I saw the car coming, I should have saved him, but I didn’t.”
“You had no obligation to put yourself at risk to save him. It was him or you.”
“No, it wasn’t,” Pete retorted. He was working himself up into an impressively foul mood, and it wasn’t until Mikey grabbed his arms and shook them that he realised his friend was just as pissed off.
“He was killing you,” Mikey said fiercely, “and I don’t care that he’s dead. I don’t care what you did. I just don’t.”
Pete was too startled to speak for a few seconds. “It wasn’t that bad,” he managed at last, but it was such a weak lie that Mikey didn’t even bother to respond to it. “What am I supposed to do?” Pete wondered. “Maybe you don’t care that I just let him die, but I can’t... I can’t trust myself. I chose Trent, and then I.... What am I going to do next, huh?”
Mikey had a hunted look on his face, like he knew he didn’t have an answer and was refusing to admit it. “Everything’s going to be okay,” he said, like he had every intention of making it so through sheer force of will. It was nice, but not exactly reassuring. Mikey didn’t actually have superpowers. Pete was on his own.
“Yeah,” Pete agreed. “It’ll be okay. I’m fine.” That got him an incredulous look, but what did Mikey want from him? To be fine for real, probably, and not just say that he was. But Pete couldn’t do that.
Mikey hugged him again before he left. This time, Pete was the one reluctant to let go, but he tried not to show it. He didn’t want to worry Mikey anymore.
The day seemed a little bit colder once Mikey was gone.
***
It had been a long time since Pete had slept in a room by himself. Even after Trent’s death, he’d imagined that he could still feel the Sentinel’s presence. Then there was Edward - he had a way of filling up space. But he’d come around that evening and collected most of his possessions, and now he was with Julia so they could begin the bonding process.
Pete had told Sharon and Linda that he was going to enjoy it while it lasted. A new Guide would be along soon enough, and in the meantime he could stay up as late and snore as loudly as he wanted. He could write lyrics for hours without anyone wanting to know what he was doing. He could have as many nightmares as he liked. (He would have settled for none, but that didn’t seem to be an option.) At least no one would wake up and start worrying about him in the middle of the night.
Pete had one pill left, and he told himself that he should save it for a night when he didn’t have the room to himself, but it was too hard to fall asleep without it. The room was too quiet. His breathing was too loud. Even after he took the pill, he didn’t sleep all that restfully.
The next day would have been long even with a good night’s sleep. He hadn’t thought that a couple more Sentinels would be that many to deal with, but it left him with almost no time to think. That was kind of good, actually. He ate meals on the run and learned to fill in his paperwork with his right hand and hold a Sentinel’s hand with the other.
He saw Edward and Julia that evening. He looked blissfully happy. They both did. It looked like they might work out. Pete felt something tighten in his chest, a feeling he couldn’t identify. Envy. Worry. A bit of both, maybe.
That night he was out of pills. He was tired from the night before, but he still tossed and turned for at least two hours before he finally drifted off to sleep. He woke up a few times from vague, nonsensical dreams that he forgot as soon as he awoke. He finally went into a deeper sleep sometime before dawn and dreamed that he was taking a test he hadn’t studied for. Such an ordinary, unremarkable dream, but when he looked at the test paper he realised it was a list of all his flaws, and he couldn’t remember them all. He was going to fail, and that would be another one for the list, but it was already so long...
When Pete woke up from that dream, he gave up on the whole sleep idea and got out of bed. It was almost morning anyway. He made a pot of coffee, extra strong, and swept the kitchen floor since he didn’t want to wake Linda and Sharon by running the shower.
Jon was due to leave that morning, and busy as he was, Pete made sure to stop by his room to say goodbye before he did anything else.
Jon’s bags were stacked by the door. He was straightening the cushions on the couch. Without his belongings scattered around, the apartment looked barren, and so clean it seemed almost sterile.
“Hey,” said Pete, trying to sound upbeat.
Jon grinned at him. “Hey, Pete. Does it look okay?” He gestured to the apartment, and Pete held in a snort because there was nothing out of place.
“Whoever moves in here had better keep it just like this,” Pete joked. “Not mess it up with their, you know. Food. And clothes.”
Jon smiled, although it was a pretty weak joke. Pete didn’t really feel up to being actually funny.
“I’d better get downstairs,” said Jon. “The taxi will be here to take me to the airport.”
“I’ll help you carry everything,” Pete offered. There wasn’t too much for one person to carry, but Pete was pretty sure Jon wasn’t supposed to be putting too much weight on his leg, so he tried to take the heaviest-looking things. The look Jon gave him suggested that he knew what Pete was doing.
“Good luck with everything,” Pete said as they walked. “I hope this Ross guy is alright.” That made him feel worse, because what if he wasn’t? Pete would probably never know, either way. He realised they’d never actually exchanged email addresses, and it didn’t matter anyway because he wasn’t going to be able to send any more emails. He’d already explained that to Mikey, but he hadn’t had time to check if Mikey had replied and now he’d never know. He tried to shake the selfish thoughts out of his head.
“I’m going to be fine,” said Jon. Pete nodded. “You, too.” Pete nodded again, less surely this time. They reached the taxi, and Jon loaded the bags into the trunk.
“Listen,” said Jon, “you should talk to Sharon and Linda more. Edward, too. They want...”
Pete blinked, and waited. Jon frowned. “They want you to be okay,” he finished at last. “And... yeah. So, just... remember that, okay?”
Pete nodded again, mostly because he hoped it would make Jon stop looking at him like that. He started to put his arms up, and then second guessed himself. Were they friends who hugged? Or not? But Jon seemed to have no such reservations and hugged him tight for at least a minute.
And then, far too suddenly, he was gone.
***
Julia was the one to tell G-TAC about the bonding, Pete learned when he talked to Edward later that day. It was what he’d expected; if G-TAC was going to be unhappy about the news, well, they wouldn’t take their displeasure out on a Sentinel. So the first time Pete learned how Nagel and Ridley had taken the news was when they turned up with a new Guide.
He was younger than Pete, younger than Linda even, and waved at them from the door like he didn’t care that Nagel could see him.
“This is Luis,” Nagel said without ceremony, shoving the kid through the door. “For God’s sake, try to hang onto this one for a while, huh? I’m sick of fixing up your messes.” He glared around the room and they all avoided his gaze. “Timesheets!” he barked. “Well? We trekked all the way out here for nothing, the least you could do is hand over your paperwork.”
They all jumped into action; over his shoulder, Pete could see Luis dividing his glances between the two caseworkers and studying the apartment. He brought his timesheets to Ridley who accepted them with a stiff nod. He seemed unhappy, but whether it was because of the unscheduled trip he’d had to make, or for some other reason, Pete couldn’t say.
Ridley and Nagel left, and Pete showed Luis to the bedroom. He pointed out the closet and started to explain which side the shirts should go on, and that they all had to face the same way, and Luis said, “Oh, sure, just like in training. No problem.”
Pete nodded sharply and made to leave the room, but he stopped when Luis asked, “The caseworker guy said the Guide who was here before me bonded? Is that right? To one of the patients, he said.”
“Yeah,” Pete answered. “That’s right.”
“Does that happen a lot? They seemed kind of pissed off by it, so I thought maybe not, but...”
Something about Luis’s tone rubbed Pete the wrong way. He seemed eager, almost. Far too keen and enthusiastic to suit Pete. “No,” he said. “It’s not usual, from what I’ve heard. Most of the Sentinels don’t stay for all that long. The ones who do, they’ve got more on their mind than bonding, most of the time.”
Luis seemed to deflate a little at this, but he said, “Yeah, that makes sense.” He was obviously disappointed, which made Pete feel guilty, maybe because, despite what he’d said, he had managed to build up a sort of friendship with Patrick, hadn’t he? He wasn’t being totally honest with Luis. But when he looked at the kid’s open, hopeful face, he couldn’t make himself say anything else.
Over dinner, they talked about how to divide up the Sentinels now there were four of them again. It was something Pete hadn’t considered, and in the moment he had to scramble to decide who to hand off. He told Luis he could take care of Evan, and avoided Linda’s gaze. The Sentinels she’d passed to him when he’d first arrived had all been perfectly nice. He was sure she’d do the same for Luis, and he knew she had a few assholes to deal with too. He just wasn’t that good a person.
What was she trying to protect Luis for anyway? It wouldn’t do him much good a few months or a year from now, when his assignment here ended and they sent him off to care for a Sentinel by himself. Pete hardened his heart. Luis would be fine.
***
Pete had felt guilty enough about Evan that he’d also given Luis Terri as well, who’d never been any trouble at all. He showed Luis where to find his Sentinels and gave him a few tips for dealing with Evan, and hustled off to Patrick’s room as soon as he could.
Patrick had already made coffee when Pete arrived, and he offered Pete a cup with a proud grin. Pete accepted in the vain hope that coffee might make up for lack of sleep, and said, “What can I get you for breakfast?”
“I’m pretty sure I can pour a bowl of cereal for myself,” Patrick said wryly. “Come on, Pete. I know you’re only supposed to help me if I need it. Otherwise you wouldn’t have time to sleep.”
Pete hadn’t really been expecting to be called out on the fact that he was giving Patrick special treatment - had been for weeks now, if he was to be honest. He flushed and bit his lip, trying to think of a way to deflect the suggestion Patrick was making.
“I just thought you might want something a bit better than cold cereal,” he said as casually as he could. “But if not, then hey, that’s your business.”
Patrick gave him a look as though to say that he wasn’t fooled, and pulled a bowl out of a cupboard. “Your friend Jon came to talk to me, the day before he left,” he said, as he was pouring the cereal in.
“What?” Pete said, startled. “He what? Why?”
“He said he’d just been reassigned, and he said you’d been using his computer to email some friends.”
Pete’s breath caught as he started to panic. Why had Jon said that? What was Patrick going to do about it? It wasn’t like using the internet was explicitly against the rules, but Pete knew from experience that that wouldn’t stop G-TAC from making an issue of it.
The initial spike of panic subsided and Pete realised that Patrick hadn’t stopped talking. He tried to focus on the Sentinel’s face and figure out what he was saying, but Patrick went quiet and the only impression Pete was left with was that he’d just been asked a question.
“Huh?” Pete replied eloquently.
“I said, you can use mine. I mean, since Jon’s gone, do you want to use my computer? He said he’d email you.”
“No, thanks,” Pete said tersely. No, no no no. He wasn’t going to fall for that. It would be like giving the fox the keys to the henhouse, or some other phrase his grandmother used to say.
“Well, your choice,” Patrick said, although he sounded - disappointed? “But if you change your mind, the offer stands.”
“Thanks, though,” Pete repeated quickly, wishing now that he’d phrased his refusal a bit more delicately. He didn’t want to upset Patrick. He should have just made an excuse for why he couldn’t just now, and then hopefully Patrick would have forgotten about it, but now the damage was done.
“Pete, um...” Patrick said, and his tone suggested that he was broaching some new topic, and one that he wasn’t eager to bring up. “I hope that everything’s okay?”
“Of course it is. Why wouldn’t it be?”
“Well, Jon mentioned that you were, um, having a hard time with some, uh, stuff.”
Jon again. If Pete saw him again, which he wouldn’t, he’d be pretty tempted to punch the other man in the face.
“And you’ve really been there for me since I got here, so I want you to know that - if you need to talk or whatever...”
Everyone wanted him to talk. What for? What good would it do? Oh, this was payback, wasn’t it, for all the times he’d tried to cheer Patrick up. Poetic justice.
He smiled, although he was sure it looked more like a grimace, and said, “I’m fine, but thanks anyway. And I’m running late now, so... I’ll be back this evening.”
It was probably only because of what Patrick had said that Pete noticed the way Linda and Sharon kept looking at him. Constant anxious and concerned glances that they seemed to think he couldn’t see. Maybe he wouldn’t have noticed them if Patrick’s questions hadn’t made him more self-conscious than usual.
“What?” he demanded irritably the fifth time or so he caught them at it.
Linda said, “Nothing,” but Sharon, being Sharon, said, “Jon said we needed to keep an eye on you, so that’s what we’re doing.”
“Sharon,” Linda hissed, “I don’t think we were supposed to tell him that.”
Pete groaned loudly and said, “Not you too! I’m fine.” Sharon and Linda looked doubtful, and Pete huffed indignantly. Linda opened her mouth, probably to say something kind and supportive, and Pete knew he was being a dick, but he walked out of the apartment without a word.
He ended up at Patrick’s door, of course. “Hey. Hey! Feel like dinner?” he asked, and Patrick let him in. Pete diced chicken for a stirfry while Patrick painstakingly sliced vegetables, and if he was still going by the time Pete had the chicken cooked, neither of them said anything about it.
“Do you really not mind if I use the computer?” Pete asked suspiciously, taking advantage of Patrick’s preoccupation to ask while his guard was down.
“Of course not,” Patrick said, glaring at a carrot. “Why are these stupid things so round?”
“Are you sure? I don’t think I’m supposed to, you know,” said Pete.
“Uh-huh.”
Of course, Pete’s clever ploy wasn’t going to work if Patrick wasn’t actually listening at all. “G-TAC would probably be hugely pissed off if they found out,” he said. “I’d be in trouble. Maybe you’d be in trouble too.” Not fucking likely, Sentinels were untouchable as far as G-TAC was concerned. But something seemed to penetrate Patrick’s head, anyway, because he looked at Pete and frowned, seeming lost for words.
“Pete-” Patrick began, then stopped, licked his lips, and said, “I don’t-” He stopped again and shook his head. “If you’re worried I’ll rat you out or something, well, I won’t. I don’t care what you use the computer for. I’m not trying to - to spy on you, or whatever you think. Maybe it’s breaking a rule or something, but I don’t really care. It’s up to you. Don’t use it, if you don’t want.” He moved to chop the last piece of carrot, and the knife twisted, sending half the carrot flying across the room. “Fuck.” Patrick dropped the knife in the sink and pushed the chopping board over to Pete before going to retrieve the stray vegetable.
Once the vegetables were cooking, Pete looked over to the computer desk in the corner and Patrick waved at him.
“Go on,” he said. “I can keep an eye on this.” And when Pete hesitated and was about to decline again, Patrick put his hand to Pete’s shoulder and turned him towards the desk, gently pushing him that way. Not a shove, not at all; in fact all the scrutiny Pete had been under made him suspect that Patrick was being overly careful with him. “Go,” Patrick said, and finally Pete let himself do as Patrick said.
There was an email from Mikey, like he’d thought there would be, but there were two others as well. He opened the most recent one.
Hey Pete, this is Ray. You know, Mikey’s friend. We were talking about your friend Patrick - oh, I don’t really know of anything that could help him, I’m sorry - but Mikey said we should maybe get in touch, so he gave me your email address. So, you know, email me. If you want. We can talk about whatever. Anyway I have to go, Frank and I are seeing a movie tonight, but you can call anytime. And then there was a phone number, and the email ended.
Pete frowned at the screen and opened the next email, which was from Jon.
Hi Pete,
I guess it’s possible that you’re slightly annoyed with me right now. Which I understand. But I didn’t like the idea of leaving you without anyone to talk to, and Mikey was worried about you as well. So, I’d say I’m sorry, but... it’s more that I’m sorry for not being sorry. So yeah.
I’m settled in at Fort Lewis. The weather here stinks. I hope you’re doing okay. Let me know how Edward and Julia are getting on? And everyone else?
Don’t be a stranger,
Jon
Pete narrowed his eyes at the email from Mikey, and now that he was looking he noticed that the subject line read: ‘Admit it you would have done the same thing.’
Pete,
I hate the idea that you might think I betrayed your trust, but what you told me on the weekend frightened me. No, not that thing. The other stuff. When you said you couldn’t trust yourself and you weren’t sure what you were going to do. I’d never forgive myself if I ignored something like that and then... well. Anyway.
I didn’t tell Jon what you told me, okay? I didn’t tell him anything he hadn’t already guessed for himself. He wants to help you, and he seems, you know, decent and stuff. Maybe if you don’t want to talk to me you’ll talk to him instead.
Jon said he was going to get some of the other Guides over there to keep an eye on you too. I said you probably wouldn’t want a lot of people hovering around, and he said that’s what Guides do when one of us is going through something bad. I guess I haven’t been around enough other Guides to... anyway that’s not important. I’m trusting Jon to find Guides who can be trusted, so, well, he better not fuck that up.
I asked Ray to get in touch with you too. I know I don’t... I can’t really understand everything you’re going through, but if you want to talk to Ray about it, he’ll listen. And stuff. We don’t want to bother you or crowd you, the ball’s in your court Pete, but we’re all here. I hope there’s one of us you can talk to if you need to.
Mikey
Pete read the email twice and wondered how much of a basket case he’d seemed to make Mikey so worried about him. How screwed up must he appear to everyone around him, to have them all so worried? Was he really as fucked up as all that?
He probably was, Pete decided after thinking about it for a few minutes. He always had been really, but he’d actually got worse since Trent’s death, which made no sense at all. It wasn’t just that he felt guilty about letting Trent die, although he did. It wasn’t just that he felt scared and miserable all the time, because that was nothing new. It was that he couldn’t control himself anymore.
Couldn’t sleep through the night. Couldn’t hear a loud sudden noise without jumping out of his skin. Some days he was pretty sure he only managed to get out of bed because he knew he had no choice. He needed the damn pills just to get through the night, through the day, but they were all gone and he couldn’t get more. And he was worrying everyone around him, because they wanted to help but there was nothing they could do.
He couldn’t just continue to fake being okay any more. Couldn’t tell Mikey or anyone else how bad things actually were, either. They’d panic, probably go to his caseworker behind his back. They wouldn’t want to, but what else could they do? And then it would all be out of his control. Pete had to move first.
Ridley wasn’t so bad, anyway. Not for a G-TAC caseworker. He might listen, might try to help. Pete twisted the hem of his shirt and realised his palms were sweaty, and his heart was racing. He didn’t want to talk to Ridley, but he had to. And it would probably be okay.
Over in the kitchen, he heard bowls clattering, and Patrick called out, “Hey, Pete, you want some of this?”
Pete wiped his hands on his pants and got up to help. He spent the whole meal unusually quiet, and after they’d washed up he went back to send a quick reply to Jon.
I can’t say I didn’t freak out a bit when I realised you’d talked to Patrick, but so far so good. You don’t have to worry about me, though, I’m fine. Mikey’s just a worrywart.
We don’t get to see much of Edward now, of course, but whenever I run into him he always seems blissfully happy. The lucky bastard. Nothing much has changed here otherwise.
I hope you’re okay up there in Washington state. Hope that Ross guy isn’t too much of a dick. Or at least is nice to look at, lol.
Pete
He thought about replying to Mikey, but after five minutes of staring at the screen and not writing a single word, he gave up.
Part Five